Knights of the Hawk (51 page)

‘So they rarely meet Haakon or his men?’

I waited, trying my hardest to remain patient while Eithne attempted first to make herself understood and then in turn to understand the answers they gave.

‘The only time they ever speak to them is when they come to collect each month’s tribute,’ she said. ‘Most days a party comes down from the fort to collect water from the spring, although no one dares disturb them.’

‘What spring?’ I asked.

Eithne translated for me, and after a few moments both husband and wife pointed towards a copse that stood on a rise some distance to the north, which I reckoned could be little more than half a mile from Jarnborg’s gates, if that.

‘Amidst those trees,’ Eithne said. ‘They come twice every day, perhaps an hour or so after first light, while the fog still lingers, and again at dusk, and lately a third time as well, around midday.’

‘Always at the same times?’

Eithne nodded. ‘It seems so.’

‘How many?’

Again she conferred with the couple, and again I waited for the answer to come back.

‘Three slave-girls, usually, sometimes four, with pails that they carry on poles across their shoulders, together with the same number of guards to stop them from running away.’

‘Danish girls?’ I asked.

Eithne shook her head. ‘Irish, Aife thinks. He brings them back when he returns from his travels, from places across the water. She believes they are badly beaten, since she’s sometimes heard them crying.’

From Dyflin, I’d wager, like Eithne herself. Was it possible that the girls were kinswomen of hers?

And suddenly the beginnings of an idea began to form in my mind. Clearly there was no ready supply of water on the promontory, save for what they could harvest from the rain. But whatever army Haakon was hiding behind those palisades would need plenty, not just to drink and to brew into ale, but to wash and to cook with as well.

‘How old are these girls?’ I asked.

‘What?’ Eithne asked, confused.

I was in no mood to explain at that moment. ‘Just ask them.’

After some discussion between the cowherd and his wife, the answer came back that, although they couldn’t say whether it was always the same ones who came, they tended to be young, somewhere between twelve and eighteen summers, by their reckoning. Around Eithne’s age, in other words.

‘What are you thinking, lord?’ she asked.

I only smiled in what I trusted was an enigmatic fashion, waved my thanks to Tadc and Aife and beckoned for the others to follow as I set off back in the direction of camp. I didn’t want to say, not just yet. Not until I’d had the chance to consider exactly how this might work.

Even so, a shiver of exhilaration ran through me. Exhilaration at the thought of the battle to come. Exhilaration because I sensed that vengeance, justice and honour were at hand.

Because I knew how we would get inside Jarnborg.

‘There has to be another way,’ said Wace, shaking his head, once I’d begun to tell them all of my plan. ‘A simpler way.’

The day was growing old, and dark clouds once more hung over us, threatening rain at any moment. We were gathered by the campfire, sharing bread and passing around flagons of ale: Magnus and Ælfhelm, Eudo and Wace, Aubert and myself.

‘Is there no other way in or out of Jarnborg?’ Eudo asked Magnus, who had been scouting the surrounding land that afternoon.

‘None,’ Ælfhelm growled.

‘We ventured as close as we dared to its walls,’ Magnus offered more helpfully. ‘We spied what looked like a doorway on the north-western side, with a path leading down to a sandy cove where they could unload supplies, but it’s been blocked up, while the cliff-face below it has crumbled away, and most of the path with it. The approach might still be climbable, for someone with sufficient knowledge and experience, but not in mail and with a shield strapped to one’s back. The only other way in or out that we could see remains through the gatehouse.’

‘You’re certain of that, are you?’ Wace asked, regarding him dubiously.

‘As certain as I can be,’ Magnus replied. ‘Would you rather go scouting those slopes yourself?’

To that Wace made no reply.

‘If we’re to have any chance of victory, we need to bring him out from behind the protection of his palisades,’ I said. ‘As I see it, there’s only one certain way of doing that.’

‘Attacking his ships,’ Eudo murmured.

I nodded. ‘What are Danes known for, if not their love of their boats? Without them Haakon can’t very well go raiding in the spring, can he? So if we make an attack on them, I’ll wager that he’ll come running to defend them.’

‘They’re well guarded,’ Magnus said. ‘He already has forty-one sword- and spear-Danes posted there. We counted them.’

‘That won’t be enough to fend off two boatloads of battle-hungry warriors,’ I replied. ‘For that he’ll need to send the larger part of his host down from Jarnborg.’

‘Which he’ll do as soon as he guesses what we’re up to,’ Aubert said. ‘And from atop that promontory, he’ll be able to see us coming from miles away. Even before we’ve entered the bay, he’ll have gathered enough spearmen to make a landing all but impossible.’

‘So long as we can scare him into coming out from his fortress, nothing else matters,’ I said. ‘The point is not to bring him to battle, at least not at first.’

Aubert frowned. ‘If the point isn’t to bring him to battle, then what is?’

‘To distract him.’

‘Distract him from what?’ Wace asked.

I grinned. ‘From the second prong of our attack.’ And I told them of my plan to slip unnoticed, together with a handful of men, inside Jarnborg.

‘You’ll never manage this,’ Wace said when I’d finished. ‘This is reckless beyond belief.’

Reckless it was, certainly. I’d be the first to admit that much. Nor could I remember having ever devised a more elaborate plan than this. Not one that had worked, anyway. But if there was ever any strategy that guaranteed success without involving some measure of danger, I was yet to hear of it.

Eudo stared at me in disbelief. ‘And what would be the purpose of this? To capture it?’

I shook my head, aware that I was grinning like a fool.

‘What, then?’

‘To burn it.’

I would do to his hall what he had done to the fastness at Dunholm three winters ago. Or try, at least, knowing that if it worked, it would surely shatter the spirit of Haakon and his host. For if what Magnus had told me was right, everything he held dear was contained within those walls. It was his home, where his treasure hoard was kept, and it was his pride, too.

And I would be the one to destroy it.

Eudo gave a chuckle as a grin spread across his face. Like me, he had always possessed something of a rash streak, and revelled in causing chaos where he could. Of the rest, only Wace did not look entirely convinced, and I supposed that was only to be expected. He had ever been the most level-headed of all my friends.

‘This can’t work,’ he told me. ‘You’re a fool if you think it can. How long do you think you can survive inside the enemy camp? You don’t look like a Dane, nor do you speak even a word of their tongue. How will you even get past the sentries on the gate?’

‘I’ll take with me someone who does,’ I replied, ‘and make sure to keep my own mouth shut. I’m not asking any of you to come with me, not if you don’t want. I’ll do my part, providing that you do yours. Speak now if you have anything better in mind. Otherwise this, as I see it, is our best chance of victory.’

Wace breathed a tired sigh. ‘I won’t even try to sway you, Tancred, not this time. But you must understand that if anything goes wrong and Haakon’s men discover you, you’re all dead men. You and whatever band of fools you can convince to accompany you.’

‘I know that,’ I replied tersely. ‘Don’t think I don’t.’

I glanced at Eudo and Magnus, willing them to challenge me, but neither uttered a word. How long we remained there in silence, I couldn’t say, but it felt like an eternity. For the first time doubt began to creep into my mind. Perhaps Wace was right. What if Haakon refused to be drawn out? What if he had enough spears at his disposal to defend his ships and his stronghold both?

‘How many men would you need for this?’ Magnus asked after a while.

‘Six or seven at most,’ I answered. ‘The smaller the party, the better.’

He seemed to consider this for a moment. ‘Very well,’ he said at last. ‘I’ll join you.’

‘Lord—’ Ælfhelm protested.

But Magnus’s eyes were gleaming with the prospect of adventure, and he ignored his countryman. ‘You said yourself that you’ll need someone who speaks Danish. If this is our one chance to destroy Haakon, then we might as well give it our all. If nothing else, at least we’ll die knowing that we did everything we could. There is honour in that.’

There was indeed. I grinned back at him and held out my hand. He clasped it firmly, and so it was settled. Our destinies were bound, and we would go to Jarnborg, Haakon’s stronghold, the iron fortress, together.

Fate can lead a man upon many strange and unexpected paths, and I confess that this was one of the strangest I’d ever embarked upon. Before me was someone who not so long ago I’d have counted among my enemies, whom I wouldn’t have hesitated in killing, and no doubt the feeling was mutual. However, just as a storm will scatter ships to the wind and carry them far from their intended courses, so fate had carried us both far from the places we called home and into this alliance, with circumstance and common cause the only things binding us. Now as sword-brothers we were going to war.

I only hoped I was not making a grievous mistake.

And so it was agreed. Magnus and I would stay behind to lead the raid on Jarnborg itself, while the others, led by Wace and Eudo and Ælfhelm, would mount the feint on Haakon’s ships. The next morning, then, we parted ways. We would make it look as though we had heeded the Dane’s warning after all, decided against trying to fight him, and thus quit the island.

‘As soon as the fog starts to lift tomorrow morning and it becomes safe to sail, that’s when you’ll need to begin your approach,’ I told Eudo and Wace. We stood on the beach above the tideline while
Wyvern
’s crew pushed her out on to the water. ‘By that time we’ll either be inside Jarnborg, or we’ll all be dead. Haakon’s men always come to the spring in the morning, an hour or so after first light, or so we’ve been told, anyway.’

‘I hope your information is sound,’ Wace said. ‘For your sake, not ours.’

I hoped so too. Only now, as we were about to embark upon this strategy, did I realise what a fragile thing it was, and how much we were relying on matters beyond our control: on the trustworthiness of the information given us; on the water-carriers coming to the spring at the right time; on Haakon doing exactly what we expected of him.

‘Remember,’ I said, ‘don’t commit yourselves to battle unless it’s clear that the numbers are in your favour. I don’t want any more Norman blood spilt than is necessary. Enough good men have wasted their lives because of me in the past couple of years.’

‘So tell us again,’ said a confused-looking Eudo. ‘If we’re not going to fight Haakon’s forces, then what? Are we simply to lie in wait off the shore?’

‘That’s right,’ I said. ‘Wait until you see the flames licking above Jarnborg’s palisade. In the confusion that follows, with any luck our enemy will be distracted. That’s the moment when you strike.’

‘Luck is the right word,’ Wace said bitterly. ‘We’ll need some, if this plan of yours is to bear any fruit.’

Was that not true, though, of every struggle that had ever been fought? No strategy could account for every possible course of events, nor make order out of the turmoil of the mêlée, nor allow for the courage of the few or the timid hearts of the many. So much in battle was a question of luck, and every warrior needed good fortune, no matter whether he was a fresh-faced youth standing in the shield-wall for the first time, or a knight who had spent more than half his life travelling the sword-path. The poets who write the songs that pass into legend would have it differently, of course, but every man who lives his life by the sword knows it well.

Yet I still believed that the best warriors were those who made the most of their luck, who grasped in both hands the opportunities given them, who saw their enemies’ weaknesses and how they might be turned to their advantage. That was why I refused to believe that our cause was as desperate as it might seem.

‘What about the Englishman?’ Eudo asked, nodding his head towards Magnus, who was embracing his huscarls down by the water’s edge.
Wyvern
and
Nihtegesa
were already afloat, bobbing in the swell as they lay at anchor. The sea-mist had cleared to reveal skies heavy with the promise of rain to come, and I only hoped that another storm was not on its way. ‘Do you really trust him?’

‘Only about as far as I could throw him,’ I answered. ‘But he wants the same thing as we do. Until we achieve it, there’s no reason why we can’t depend on him.’

Wace didn’t look convinced. ‘What did Haakon mean yesterday when he called Magnus the son of Harold?’

‘Did he say that?’ I said, doing my best to feign surprise, although the looks they gave me suggested I hadn’t succeeded.

‘Don’t play games with us,’ Wace said in a warning tone. ‘You know something. He didn’t mean
the
Harold, surely?’

I met his stare, but realised it was pointless to try to keep the truth from them any longer.

‘Is he, or is he not, the son of the usurper?’ Wace asked.

‘So he claims.’

‘You knew?’ asked Eudo, while Wace simply turned away, cursing under his breath. ‘Why didn’t you tell us?’

‘Why do you think? If you’d found out he was Harold’s son, would you have come this far, or would you have taken
Wyvern
back to England?’

He didn’t answer, but they knew as well as I did what they would have done.

‘I don’t believe this,’ Wace said. ‘It’s one thing to be fighting shoulder to shoulder with Englishmen, but I never thought I’d find myself sharing bread and ale with the usurper’s own blood.’