Draca. Geoffrey Gudgion

      From the saga of King Guthrum

      King Guthrum gathered a great army and harried in the Westlands, the folk fleeing before him wherever he went, for it was known that he had all men killed that stood before him. Then King Alfred came against him with an army of the West Saxons and there was straightaway a great strife both hard and long, but the end of it was that neither side had the victory.

      After the battle King Guthrum withdrew to Jarvic^[1] and gave his son Jarl Harald charge over a mighty force of longships . He commanded Harald to sail straightway to the South and to fall upon the great harbour of the West Saxons at Fyrsig , where all the longships of his fleet might safely lie. Furthermore Jarl Harald was not to harry the lands in between, lest the news of his army fly to Alfred like fire in dry grass, but was to fall upon Alfred by surprise from the South while Jarl Guthrum came against him from the North.

      Now Harald Guthrumsson was a great warrior and had good opportunity of choosing himself the foremost in strength or boldness, and many mighty men followed him and offered their sons to be his bodyguard and berserks. In Harald ’ s dragonhead ship, the stem men were the best chosen, for they bore the jarl ’ s standard, and the berserks took their place in the part which went from the stem back to the bailing place. Fearless were these men, strong as bears and mad like wolves. They bit their shields, and filled their foes with terror, and neither fire nor steel would deal with them.

      Thus sailed Harald Guthrumsson with one hundred and twenty ships and half the army of King Guthrum .

      I: JACK

      As the sounds of his father ’ s car receded, Jack stared at the carrier bag that his father had dumped beside the carving, dropping it with as little respect as a bag of shopping. Grandpa wasn ’ t the first person Jack had known who ’ d died, but he was the first one that he ’ d loved. He ’ d never before had that jolt at the sight of a cardboard brick that was all that was left of a person. In Afghanistan he ’ d had to go through the personal effects of a dead m arine , sending home treasures and tokens of endearment that, despite his efforts, would spill a fine, red, desert dust when the box was opened. It was desperately sad, but it didn ’ t touch him personally in the same way. There was even a guilty sense of relief that he was still alive and it wasn ’ t his effects that were being sent home. It had been close, though. The day that m arine died, Jack had dug a bullet out of his own body armour.

      And when m arines died, they were blown away from unreality. They did not belong to the place that had destroyed them.

      But Grandpa had belonged to this place. This place had belonged to him. The familiar scene of boats on the water should be different without him. Jack half expected to find a razor cut across the view like a slice across a sail ; s ome rip that had opened, pulled Grandpa through and sealed itself behind him. There was just an ugly purple cube inside a bag as a sign that he ’ d gone, the way a suicide might leave a pile of folded clothes on a beach. Two bricks ’ weight of granules instead of a note.

      Charlotte, coming through the kitchen behind him, didn ’ t belong here. Jack decided he partly belonged; upstairs the small bedroom with the single bed still displayed Grandpa ’ s cherished fragments of his childhood.

      Charlotte ’ s hand touched his shoulder, balancing herself as she swung her leg over the bench. Even in his hung-over state, the flash of her thigh was distracting.

      ‘ Hey, chum. ’ She put a fresh mug on the table.

      ‘ Hey, Lottie. ’ ‘ Charlotte ’ had always seemed too formal a name, unless he was ticked off with her.

      ‘ Thanks. For sticking up for me, I mean. ’

      ‘ I didn ’ t want to give him the satisfaction of being right. ’

      The flow of her movement checked and she settled more cautiously onto the bench, staying silent while she emptied the last of the coffee into her mug. As she replaced the pot , she stretched to squeeze his hand. ‘ Poor Jack. I really thought it could work. You and me. ’

      ‘ So did I. ’ He paused. In front of them, the trees on Witt Point appeared motionless in the heat, but their reflections in the water were hazed by wavelets, and ripples ran through the reeds in the shallows. There would be enough wind to sail, out in the harbour.

      ‘ Why did you marry me, Lottie? ’

      She thought for perhaps two breaths before answering. ‘ Do you remember how we were always laughing together, before you were wounded? Those golden months between Afghanistan and the last, bloody deployment? You were the best male friend I ’ d ever had. The closest I ’ d been to loving a man. ’

      ‘ Were? ’

      ‘ Are. Even after all the crappy times since you came back. ’

      ‘ We did have a lot of fun, didn ’ t we? ’ He smiled, until he realised he ’ d used the past tense. Talking was easy in this place, side by side, staring at the view rather than each other.

      ‘ I think I was a bit in awe, as well, even before the honours list came out. We all were. And we were so perfect, the handsome hero and the g eneral ’ s daughter, the must-have couple for any gathering. Maybe I got lost in our own mystique. ’

      Jack