Lovable Viking's Arc

Chapter 5 of 5

They landed the gold at first light and piled it on the shore. Chests of silver. Loose coin in heaps. The crew stood around it and did not laugh now. Marcus watched their eyes. Gold like this had no lock and no wall. It sat in the open where any man could scoop a fistful and run. He saw Benjamin count a chest twice, then glance at the man beside him. That look was the danger. A hoard without a home would turn brother against brother by nightfall. "We split it now," one man said. "Even shares. Before it grows legs." "No," Marcus said. "Split it wet on a beach and half of you will be dead of it by morning. We store it first. All of it. In one place, under one lock." Benjamin frowned. "What place? We have no keep." "We do," Marcus said. He pointed inland, past the rocks, to the grand stone hall where his crew wintered. Timber braces. Carved gables. Iron doors thick as a man's arm. "My hall. One door. One key. Every coin behind it, and every man knows his share is safe." Franklin spat. "Your hall means your hand on the key. We're to trust you count fair?" His red beard bristled. He had once raised an axe at Marcus. Now he stood his ground with words instead of steel, which was its own kind of progress. Marcus did not flinch. "You'll count it yourself, Franklin. You and Benjamin both. Tally every chest before it goes through the door. Then the door locks, and no man opens it alone. Not me. Not you." Franklin studied him. The other men waited. Marcus knew this moment held them, not fear now, but the promise of a fair share kept safe. "Fair," Franklin said at last. He hefted a chest onto his shoulder. "Then let's carry." They hauled the gold up the slope through the morning. When the last chest passed the iron doors, Vivian met them in the hall. His wife wore her blue dress and jewels that caught the torchlight, but her face was set hard. She held out her hand for the key. "You'll not sleep guarding this," she told Marcus. "I will hold it. No man here will fight a woman for a door, and none of them can call it theft if it sits with your wife." Marcus looked at her, then at the crew. Not one of them would raise a hand to her. His rule made sure of that. He pressed the iron key into her palm. The gold went behind stone. Franklin and Benjamin sealed the tally with their marks. The crew walked out calm, each man knowing his share waited safe. But as Marcus stood in the empty hall, a rider came hard down the coast road. He carried a warlord's banner, and he was not alone.