Glendalough Fair (9 page)

All men are heroes at home;

Though you have but two goats and your best room’s rope-thatched,

Still it’s better than begging.

Hávamál

The ships of Thorgrim’s fleet,
Fox
and
Blood Hawk
and
Sea Hammer
, with a couple hundred warriors aboard, were underway two days after the chief men had decided to join with Kevin on the raid on Glendalough. It was another two days after that that they spotted Kjartan’s ship,
Dragon
.

They had sailed from Vík-ló and made their way down the coast to the mouth of the River Avoca, which would lead them on their winding course inland to Glendalough, or as close as they could get with their shallow draft vessels. The winds were light and fluky, and though they were able to sail part of the time, most of the voyage was accomplished with oars and grumbling.

They were still three miles from the river mouth when Starri rose from his usual spot aft and climbed up the shrouds to the masthead. He settled himself there, his legs wrapped around the heavy rigging, looking as comfortable as a man standing in a mead hall. He scanned the horizon and Thorgrim waited to hear what he had to say, but he said nothing, so Thorgrim turned his eyes back to the approaching shore.

It was ten minutes after that that Starri called down from aloft.

“Night Wolf!” he said, his voice loud but calm.

“Yes?”

“I see smoke. Not a great deal. A few trails of it.”

Thorgrim turned to Agnarr, who was at the tiller. “There’s a fishing village at the mouth of the river,” Agnarr said. “Just some pathetic little dung hill. Might be cooking fires, or a smith, maybe.”

“Very well,” Thorgrim said. “We’ll know soon enough.” He looked astern. The others ships were following in line like carts rolling down a road.

“There,” Agnarr said. “There is the mouth of the river.”

Thorgrim nodded. He could see it now, the low cut in the coastline. He could see the ragged boundary in the sea where the fresh water and the silt it carried from the land met the cold, salty ocean.

The shoreline grew closer with each steady pull of the oars and the mouth of the river opened like welcoming arms. The northern bank and the village Agnarr had described were still hidden from view. Agnarr pushed the tiller over a bit and
Sea Hammer
swung her bow away from the land.

“Mud banks are shifty here,” Agnarr said. “Looks like we’re at about a half tide. I’ll steer for the center of the river, safer that way.”

Thorgrim nodded. “Starri!” he called out and when Starri, still clinging to the masthead, acknowledged the hail Thorgrim said, “Keep a sharp eye out for mud banks and the like. I would just as soon not go aground.”

Starri waved to indicate he understood and Thorgrim turned his eyes back to the land. What had earlier appeared to be an unbroken stretch of shoreline was now opening up to reveal the mouth of a wide river with muddy banks north and south and green meadows and bursts of trees rolling away inland.

“You men who are not rowing, get your armor on and take up your shields,” Thorgrim ordered. He could still see only part way up the river; whatever might be lurking around the bend was hidden from view. He was not going to be caught with leggings around his ankles.

Fore and aft men shrugged into mail or leather shirts, settled helmets on their heads. Harald, standing near the bow, buckled his sword belt around his mail. From the belt hung Oak Cleaver, the lovely Frankish blade that had been worn by Harald’s grandfather, Ornolf the Restless.

Segan, Thorgrim’s slave, appeared at his side holding Thorgrim’s mail and helmet and Iron-tooth. Segan had spent a good deal of the voyage heaving over the rail, first to windward until he had been shown, none to gently, that leeward was the preferred side for puking. But he was looking much better now as
Sea Hammer
stood into the calm, inshore water.

Thorgrim donned his mail and Segan buckled the belt around him. “Starri,” Thorgrim called out, keeping his voice as low as he could, “do you see anything up river? Any ships?”

There was a pause as Starri swept the shore, “Yes, Night Wolf!” he said, then paused again and added, “Perhaps. Perhaps a ship, perhaps a tree….”

They were closing fast now, the oars biting deep into the calm, in-shore water, the motion of the ship settling out until it was nothing but forward momentum. Thorgrim glanced aloft to see that Starri was not daydreaming, but the man seemed to be straining to see what awaited them ashore.

“Night Wolf!” Starri called again. “A ship, to be certain! I can see the masthead. Not moving…anchored or tied up I would think!”

Thorgrim nodded. One ship. If it was indeed only one ship it was no threat to them.

Agnarr steered for the wide center of the river, the place where the keel was least likely to find the mud, and the northern shore seemed to peel back like a hide coming off a fresh kill. Thorgrim could see the mast of the ship now, the light-colored wood of a pine tree, stripped of its bark, shaped and oiled.

“I see no other ships than the one,” Starri called down. “She’s tied to some sort of dock.” He paused, and when he spoke again Thorgrim could hear the edge of excitement in his voice. “Night Wolf!” he called, louder now. “By the gods, it’s Kjartan’s ship! It’s
Dragon
!”

Starri was right. Thorgrim could see that.

Agnarr pushed the tiller over and
Sea Hammer
turned more westerly, lining up with the mouth of the river, and as he did the edge of the village came into view, the first of the thatched huts, a wharf made up of weathered pilings and rough-hewn boards. They were still a hundred or so perches away, but he could see that the ship tied to the wharf was indeed
Dragon
.

There were men aboard the ship, the full complement of her crew, or so it seemed from a distance. Shields were mounted on the river side of the ship. No one seemed to be making ready for a fight.

“Put us alongside
Dragon
,” Thorgrim said to Agnarr, and Agnarr nodded and pushed the tiller over just a bit. Thorgrim turned to the men amidships, dressed in mail and bearing weapons and shields.

“We’ll go alongside Kjartan’s ship,” he called. “Stand ready for what might come. We’ll greet them with handshakes or crossed swords, whichever they wish.” He saw heads nodding, hands refreshing their grips on swords and battle axes.

More houses were visible now, squat and round with conical thatched roofs. They could see a few pigs and goats moving slowly around deserted yards sectioned off with wattle fences. There were no people in the village, no one that Thorgrim could see, but that was hardly a surprise with a longship tied to the wharf. The only odd thing was the animals. Villagers fleeing a raid would have brought their animals if they could. Kjartan must have hit them before they knew he was there.

The tide was flooding and it carried them into the estuary until they had land on either side, the river mouth twenty perches wide. But all eyes were on
Dragon
and Kjartan’s men and the village beyond, the wispy column of smoke, the animals wandering in their desultory way. They could see doors and gates hanging open.

“I see where the smoke is coming from!” Starri called out. “A building behind the others. Burned down. Not much left that I can see. A pile of charred wood. Still smoking.”

There was a haunted quality to the place, like a graveyard, and it seemed to affect all the men aboard
Sea Hammer
. They were mostly quiet as they watched the village come into view, and when they spoke they spoke in hushed tones.

Agnarr pushed the tiller over. Thorgrim called for the rowers to ease their stroke. He ran his eyes over
Dragon
. He felt the fighting madness creeping up on him. His men forward were ready as well, ready to leap over the sheer strake and come down on Kjartan’s men like furies from the sea. But Kjartan’s men were seated, or lolling around, not arraying themselves for a fight.

Thorgrim looked astern. Bersi’s ship
Blood Hawk
was about one hundred feet behind and following them toward the shore, and behind that
Fox
was also turning in
Sea Hammer
’s wake. He looked back toward the village. With the lift of the current
Sea Hammer
was closing fast with
Dragon
.

“Give a pull and ship your oars,” Thorgrim called and the men on the sea chests gave one last stroke and then slid the oars inboard with a practiced ease and laid them fore and aft. With the last bit of way on the ship Agnarr steered straight for
Dragon
’s larboard side, then pushed the tiller hard over to swing the bow away and bring the ships parallel to one another.

“Thorgrim Night Wolf!”

Thorgrim heard the familiar voice over the gap of water between the ships. Kjartan Longtooth, standing on
Dragon
’s afterdeck. He wore mail but no helmet and carried no shield. His sword was still sheathed, and the friendly tone to his words had a false sound to it. Thorgrim said nothing.

“You men!” Kjartan called to the men on
Dragon
’s deck. “Stand ready to throw those lines to our friends. Get fenders over the side, there, get ready to make Thorgrim’s ship fast.” Men from
Dragon
’s crew stood at their ship’s bow and stern with lines in their hands, ready to throw them to the men aboard
Sea Hammer
. Others wrestled heavy fenders made of plaited rope over the side where the two ships would come together.

Thorgrim looked back at Agnarr and nodded. Agnarr pushed the tiller over, bringing
Sea Hammer
easily alongside
Dragon
. She came to a near-stop in the stream and fore and aft the ropes flew the short distance between the ships. A moment later Thorgrim’s ship was tied fast to Kjartan’s, as
Blood Hawk
came on to raft up to
Sea Hammer
’s larboard side.

Thorgrim ignored the business of tying the ship up, ignored Bersi’s approach on the water side. He walked forward, eyes on the village, ignoring Kjartan as well, though Kjartan on
Dragon
’s deck was following him forward. Thorgrim stopped amidships where only the rope fender separated
Sea Hammer
from
Dragon
, and without breaking stride stepped aboard Kjartan’s ship.

“Welcome aboard, Thorgrim, welcome aboard!” Kjartan said, speaking a bit quicker than one might naturally speak. “Good to see you again!” His voice dropped to a more conspiratorial tone and he continued. “I regret having to sneak off in the night like I did. Truth is, my men heard of this Glendalough raid and they were frantic to be at it. Never seen a ship’s company so eager. I swear by the gods if I had not agreed to go with them, then and there, they would have just taken the ship on their own and no doubt have wrecked it by now. It was not until we reached the river here I convinced them to stop until you and Bersi had a chance to catch up with us.”

Thorgrim nodded. Kjartan was lying, of course, and not even trying that hard to sound convincing.
Does he take me for a fool?
Thorgrim wondered.
Or does he think I’m not the worth the effort it would take to convince me?

It didn’t matter. They would get to the truth of the thing in the end.

He ran his eyes over the abandoned hovels on shore. There was nothing moving in the weird, silent village that Thorgrim could see. He turned and looked fore and aft along
Dragon
’s deck. The men of
Dragon
stared at him, a dull look in their eyes. A haunted look.

“What’s going on here?” Thorgrim asked, nodding toward the village. “You and your men sacked it?”

“No, no,” Kjartan said. “Someone came before us. Half a day before us, I would guess. Tore through it like a pack of wolves.”

Thorgrim grunted. He turned toward
Sea Hammer
. His men were lining the side, waiting for word to come aboard
Dragon
. He could see Starri fidgeting. He knew the man was hoping for a fight with Kjartan and his crew, and he would be disappointed. There did not seem to be much fight in them.

“You men,” he called to
Sea Hammer
’s company, “come with me.” He pushed his way past Kjartan, crossed
Dragon
’s deck and stepped up onto the wharf. Kjartan was at his heels and he heard the rest of his men following behind. He saw
Blood Hawk
settling against
Sea Hammer’
s larboard side and then he turned his back to the river and looked toward the town.

Thorgrim turned to Kjartan. “You found no one in the village?” he asked.

“No one living,” Kjartan said. “Plenty of the dead.”