Knights of the Hawk (55 page)

‘Do you have any better suggestions?’ Magnus asked.

I gave a sigh. ‘Go outside and keep watch,’ I told Godric. ‘If you see anyone approaching, come and let us know straightaway.’

‘Yes, lord,’ the boy said, and scurried back out into the open. Daylight flooded in briefly before we were plunged back into lantern-light as he closed the heavy door behind him.

I snatched up the whittling-knife that rested on the stool and passed it to Ælfhelm. ‘Will this work?’

He took it, turning the stubby blade over so that it caught the light. ‘We can try it,’ he said, kneeling down in front of the lock, and with his free hand gave a click of his fingers. ‘I need light. Bring me that lantern.’

I did so, holding it up so that its faint light shone inside the keyhole, while he peered at whatever levers and springs were housed within. I wondered that he could see anything at all, but after a short while he lifted the curved blade, which was just narrow enough, and slid it into the lock. His brow furrowed, listening carefully for the sound of the mechanism, he turned it first in one direction, then in the other, muttering curses to himself.

‘Faster,’ I hissed in between glances towards the door. ‘If this is going to take all morning—’

‘Don’t hurry me,’ the huscarl said. ‘Give me time.’

‘We don’t have time,’ I muttered, but he didn’t seem to hear me. His eyes narrowed in concentration as, using both hands to steady the handle, he turned the blade upwards, then widened again as a hint of a smile appeared at the corners of his mouth. He twisted again—

There was a click, so faint as to be almost imperceptible. Ælfhelm’s smile broadened. Beaming from ear to ear, he looked up, first at his lord and then at me.

‘And to think you doubted me.’ He withdrew the blade and gave the door a gentle push. It swung open into darkness.

I went first, holding the lantern high so as to light up the chamber beyond. ‘Oswynn?’

I tried not to speak too loudly for fear of being overheard, but my mind was running with a thousand thoughts, sweat was running from my brow and the breath caught in my chest. A dank smell hung in the air, as if a fire hadn’t been lit in some while. The hearth had been recently swept and fresh rushes had been laid. A tall ewer stood in the middle of the floor, next to an iron pisspot that needed to be emptied, for as I took another step inside I caught a whiff of its contents. Benches ran down each wall, and on each one were heaped crumpled blankets. I cast the lantern’s light down their length, until at the far end I found, huddled together, their eyes wide and white-glistening in the candlelight, three women who, had they not been trembling in fear, I would probably have called pretty.

Oswynn was not among them.

Before we could speak with them and try to find out where she was, however, I heard the sound of feet descending the timber steps that led down to the outer door. Godric had come to tell us that the guard was on his way back, I thought. I turned back into the guardroom as the door opened and frigid air flooded in.

The figure who ducked beneath the lintel wasn’t Godric. Round of stomach, he had long, fair hair that trailed from beneath a woollen cap, with a moustache and beard to match. In one hand he held a whetstone and, in the other, a lump of cheese from which he was just about to take a bite when he saw us. And froze.

His jaw hung agape in surprise and confusion, and I saw the half-chewed remains of his last mouthful. He stood there, blinking, for what felt like an hour but could only have been a heartbeart, his expression slowly hardening.

‘
Hverir eruth er?
’ he barked. ‘
Hvat gerith er?
’

I glanced at Magnus, who was the only one among us who spoke their tongue, but it seemed he had no reply to whatever it was the Dane had said. That was when the round-bellied one noticed the door to the other chamber lying open. Whether he quite realised we were foemen or not, he saw that we meant trouble. Suddenly alert, he reached for the sword belted to his waist. He took a deep breath as if about to call out, and I knew that if he did our plans would be dashed like a ship against a cliff-face, and we would all be dead men. I started forward, reaching for my hilt, hoping to run him through—

I never had the chance. Before I had even got within five paces of him, he stopped mid-movement. His eyes glazed over abruptly and rolled back in his head. The faintest of gasps escaped his lips as his sword-hilt slipped from his limp fingers and tumbled with a dull clang to the hard floor, and then he too collapsed forwards, landing in a crumpled, bloodied heap, revealing the knife in the back of his neck.

In the doorway stood the one who had killed him. Godric. As if it could possibly have been anyone else.

‘You seem to be making a habit of this,’ I said drily.

‘Of what, lord?’ Godric asked.

I bent down to drag the Dane’s corpse away from the doorway, lest anyone walking by should see it, although of course we could do nothing about the blood pooling amidst the woodchips.

‘Help me move him,’ I said to Ælfhelm, who was closest to me. ‘If you take his legs, I’ll take his shoulders,’ I added, before answering the boy’s question: ‘Of striking down your opponents from behind. You know that sooner or later you’re going to have to learn how to kill them from the front as well, don’t you?’

‘At least I did kill him, lord,’ he replied. ‘Now you owe me again.’

I glanced up. ‘For what?’

‘For saving our lives.’

I supposed that was only fair. ‘I’m sure I’ll have the chance to repay the favour before long. Now, close that door,’ I said, and tossed him the ring of keys that I’d removed from the foeman’s belt. ‘Lock it, too. I don’t want his friends stumbling upon us.’

Godric didn’t need telling twice, but did as instructed, while the huscarl and I hauled the Dane’s corpulent frame through to the second chamber. No sooner had the women set eyes upon the dead guard, than they began shrieking, loud enough to wake the dead. It was a good thing that the door was indeed closed. As it was, I could only hope that no one heard.

‘Keep them quiet,’ I told Godric and Magnus as we laid the potbellied one down on one of the benches and then covered him over with some of the coarse blankets.

The women quickly shut up as the others approached, but I didn’t want them to fear us. We needed their help, just as we had needed the help of the water-carriers. Ælfhelm fetched the lantern, and brought it in so that we might have some light.

‘Tell them we don’t mean them any harm,’ I said to Magnus. ‘Tell them we’re looking for someone.’

‘Who are you?’ the middle one of the three women asked after I’d finished speaking. Dark-haired and generously endowed both in chest and in the hips, which I supposed must be how Haakon liked them, she regarded us uneasily. ‘What do you want with us?’

I stared dumbly at her. For some reason I’d assumed that, Oswynn excepted, we would find only Danish and Irish girls, since they were the most often captured and traded in these parts. She had spoken, though, as I had, in English.

‘We’re here to kill Haakon,’ Magnus said. ‘We want nothing from you, we swear upon our lives.’

Her eyes held an expression I couldn’t read, although it was somewhere between shock and joy, and closer to shock. ‘You’re going to kill him?’ she asked. She had a voice like a summer’s breeze, I thought: warm and soft and light.

‘If we can,’ I answered.

‘The four of you, alone?’

‘We have friends on their way,’ I said. ‘There’s no time to explain everything. What do they call you?’

‘Eanflæd,’ she replied.

A pretty name, I thought, for a girl who, even though I was in the middle of searching for another, I admitted was attractive.

‘Tell me, Eanflæd, do you know of an English girl by the name of Oswynn? Do you know where I can find her?’

‘Oswynn?’ she repeated, and my heart stood still. ‘Y-yes, I know her.’

‘Where is she?’

‘Haakon took her, last night.’

‘Took her where?’

She looked at me as if I were stupid, and I suppose I was, but only because love had made me that way. ‘Where do you think?’ she asked. ‘To his chamber. After the feast was over, he called for her—’

I held up a hand to stop her from going on. How we were going to get inside Haakon’s hall, when there were two of his household warriors posted at the entrance and undoubtedly countless more inside, I didn’t know. Soon, of course, they would spot
Wyvern
and
Nihtegesa
approaching, and I was counting on exploiting the resulting confusion to allow us to do what we had come here for. But what if something went wrong, or the waters were too rough or the wind gusting too strongly? What if Haakon didn’t react in the way that we hoped to the threat to his ships? How then would we be able to find Oswynn, let alone get out of Jarnborg?

All these thoughts were running through my mind when the knocking began. At once I stopped still. There were men outside, shouting in words I didn’t understand, pounding on the oak door.

A shiver ran through me. Some of the dead man’s friends must have heard the women’s screams, and had come to find out what was happening.

‘Quiet,’ I hissed, pointing at Eanflæd. ‘Not a sound.’

She nodded and then whispered in the ears of the other two, in whatever language it was they spoke. There was no other way out of this place. I swore violently, under my breath.

‘I could talk to them,’ Magnus offered.

‘And say what?’ I countered. Would the Danes be so dim-witted as to mistake his voice for that of their pot-bellied friend? Even if they did, how was he to explain why the door was locked, or the reason for the screaming?

Outside, the pounding grew more insistent, the shouts louder and angrier. They couldn’t yet know there were four of us, or guess who we were, or why we were here. All of those things they would soon work out, however, as soon as they came through that door, saw our barricade, realised that they didn’t recognise our faces and that we didn’t speak their tongue. When that happened, we could abandon all hope of leaving this place alive.

Every man’s luck ran out eventually. There were few truths greater than that. We had done well to make it this far, but I ought to have known this could only end badly. Now we would pay the price for our recklessness.

Yet I would not give up easily. Not without a fight.

‘Barricade the door,’ I said. ‘Bring that cooking-pot across, and anything else we can use.’

The inner of the two doorways could only be locked from the outside, which meant we had no choice but to make our stand in the small guard-chamber. While Magnus and Ælfhelm together manoeuvred the iron cauldron across the floor, Godric and I set the heavy bar in place across the door, so that even if they did manage to unlock it, they would still have to break it down.

‘What can we do?’ Eanflæd called from the other room.

‘Nothing,’ I said, ‘except pray for our sakes that they don’t get in.’

I helped Magnus and Aelfhelm overturn the cauldron on to its rim so that it would be more difficult for our foes to tip over, and then we set about piling whatever other obstacles we could find against the door. Some of the benches were fixed to the walls, but some were not, and we dragged those that we could in front of the doorway so that anyone coming through would with any luck trip and make it easier for us to kill them.

There was a jangle of metal as the enemy tried the lock. I heard it click, and heard, too, their cries of success, short-lived as they were as the foemen found the door barred against them. The oak rattled against the stout bar, and through the gap between the door and its frame I heard them shouting. How many were out there, it was impossible to say, but from the noise I reckoned there had to be at least half a dozen already, and such a commotion would only attract more. What they thought was happening in here, I could only guess. Maybe they thought that their friend the wood-whittler had allowed his lusts to get the better of him and had decided to have his way with his lord’s most prized bed-slaves.

In the other room, one of the women began shrieking again, and I cursed.

‘Keep her quiet,’ I called through to Eanflæd, although by then it was already too late.

Sooner or later the enemy would break through and slaughter us. They had to, for they were many and we were few. Nonetheless, if this was my day to die, then I was determined to take as many as I could with me to my grave.

Swords drawn, we stood facing the door, watching it shudder. I imagined a horde of flaxen-haired Danes lining up outside, each waiting for his turn to test his shoulder against the timbers. Then, without warning, the pounding ceased. I glanced at the others, raising a hand so that they knew not to speak. But the respite was only brief. The silence was broken by the unmistakable sound of an axe-blade biting into wood. Again the door shook. It wouldn’t be long.

‘I didn’t think I’d ever go to my death fighting shoulder to shoulder with a Norman,’ Magnus said to me in what was barely more than a whisper. ‘But you have been a steadfast ally, and for that I thank you.’

‘And you,’ I replied solemnly, without looking at him, without glancing either to left or to right. My gaze was fixed firmly on the door as I waited for the timbers to give way and for the first of our foemen to burst through. ‘May God grant our sword-arms strength.’

Neither Ælfhelm nor Godric spoke. Possibly they were both lost in prayer or thought, rehearsing in their minds what they would do when the enemy came upon us, imagining how they would strike and how they would spill Danish blood. Or possibly they simply realised, as I did, that there was nothing more to say.

All I could think about were the things I regretted. Not being able to see Oswynn one last time. Not taking my vengeance upon Haakon for what he had done. Bringing Godric with me on this expedition. For all that recent weeks had changed him, he was still not much more than a boy, eager and full of promise. Now that promise was to be snuffed out because of me.

Beneath my helmet my brow was running with sweat. It trickled off my brow, stinging my eyes. The dim lantern-light played across the surface of my blade and lit up the turquoise stone decorating the pommel, and I felt the cord wrapped around the hilt digging into my palm as I gripped it tight. Like Rollant defending to the last the pass against the pagan hordes of King Marsilius, so I too would go bravely to my death. This was my stand, my Rencesvals, I thought bitterly.