Raven: Blood Eye (47 page)

'After what you did to them, Floki, they won't be too quick to follow us,' I said, hoping it was true.

'I was good, wasn't I?' he said with a boyish smile. It was the first time I had seen that smile.

'You made them piss in their breeches.' I slapped the wet mail at his shoulder. Cynethryth was shaking now. 'You're cold,' I said, putting a hand on her back. 'Can I?' She nodded and so I rubbed her back roughly and then her arms, trying to put some warmth back into her limbs.

'We need to get back to dry land,' Floki said, 'before sunrise.' He was right, because with the dawn the Wessexmen would see us and then they would come in boats. Besides which, it was quite likely that come high tide our little island would sink beneath the sea and we would be carried off or drowned.

So we gathered our strength. When we were ready we slid off the tooth of rock back into the cold sea. We half swam, half waded a little way towards the shore and then, keeping the sound of the breaking surf on our right, followed the silhouetted coastline until we had rounded a small bluff and could no longer hear the Wessexmen or see their torches. Then we dragged ourselves through the foam and on to the shingle and headed up the salt marsh to the higher ground where we hoped to find shelter.

'There?' Cynethryth asked, pointing to a dune covered with marram grass which reminded me of Penda's spiky hair.

'Good enough,' Floki said. We climbed the dune and found its most sheltered side where, with shivering hands, we dug a hollow. There was still a breeze but we were happy for it because it would dry out our clothes and there we waited in the dark, cold and wet and hungry and wretched, but alive.

'He's drying out, too,' Floki said, nodding at a cormorant a spear's length from our hiding place. The huge black bird sat watching us from amongst the marram and I had not even seen it. 'We'll stay here and get some sleep. Then we'll see what tomorrow brings.' Then Floki stood and drew his sword so that the sea air would dry it. 'I'll wake you in a few hours, Raven,' he said, stealing off.

'Where are you going?' I hissed, drawing my own sword and laying it in the grass beside me.

'I'm going to keep an eye on those English turds,' he said.

And on Sigurd's hoard, I thought.

When the sun rose I was still wet, for I had slept in my mail in case the English found us. Cynethryth lay with her head on my thigh and I was glad when she stirred awake, because the muscle in my leg felt as dead as a rock.

'Where's your friend?' she asked, sitting up and checking the scabs on her legs.

'I don't know,' I said, standing. Black Floki had not woken me for my watch in the night. I climbed to the top of the dune to look east towards the Wessexmen's camp. But another group of low mounds obscured the salt marsh beach and so I ran back down and grabbed my sword and Cynethryth's hand. 'Come on,' I said, pulling her across the dune.

There was no sign of the English. Their tents were still there but their horses were not. The dead were gone too.
Serpent
still lay at her mooring.

'Thank Óðin they didn't burn her,' I said, breathing deeply and drinking in the sight of Sigurd's dragon lolling on the calm sea.

'But that likely means they'll be back,' Cynethryth said. 'They will have gone back to Ealdred's hall to raise a levy.' She was right. The English knew two men could not handle a ship like
Serpent
and they would come with spears to finish us.

'Raven!' a voice called up to me. 'It's a beautiful morning, isn't it?' I looked down to see Floki dragging an iron-bound chest across the shingle towards
Serpent
. 'Are you going to help me or not?'

'Jarl Sigurd's silver?' I called, already moving towards him. 'But we can't take
Serpent
out alone.'

'Look to the west, red-eye!' he yelled, standing and placing his hand on his hips.

I looked west but could see nothing and so I ran to higher ground and looked out again. And then I saw them. Warriors. Helmeted and shield-bearing, and one held aloft a red banner which sagged against a spear shaft.

'It's Sigurd!' I shouted. 'Floki, you cunning bastard, it's Sigurd!'

'Of course it's Sigurd!' he yelled up to me, the smile on his face clear even from that distance. 'Freyja's tits, who else would it be, lad?'

I ran to Cynethryth then and took her into my arms and swung her round, yelling with joy. Because my jarl had come.

'I told you to go and raise children!' Sigurd boomed, coming down the grassy dune on to the salt marsh. With him came his Sword-Norse, their eyes shining as they hungrily breathed in the sea air.

'Leave off the lad, Sigurd,' Olaf said, a great smile breaking his bushy beard. 'There'll be plenty of time for that after we've made ourselves rich.' Olaf grabbed my head and pulled me against him, planting a great kiss on my head. 'Good of you to look after
Serpent
for us, Raven,' he said, kneading my skull with his knuckles.

'You've Black Floki to thank for that, Uncle. I've had my hands full looking after myself.' I laughed.

'Laughter, the balm for the soul,' said a voice from within the knot of warriors.

'Father Egfrith?' I said, but I knew it could not be Egfrith because the monk was dead. But then the Norsemen parted, as men would from a wet dog that is about to shake, and there he was, leaning on a broken spear shaft, his head bound in bloodstained linen. 'I saw Glum kill you,' I said, astonished. Some of the men touched amulets and sword hilts to ward off evil. Cynethryth ran and threw her arms round the little man and he winced at her touch.

'There there, my girl,' he said, sniffing loudly. He looked at me. 'The good Lord has preserved me, Raven, in spite of that bast—' he made the sign of the cross, 'in spite of that animal Glum's attentions.' He pushed Cynethryth away. 'There there, child,' he said again, 'it's all right. God is with us and all will be well.'

'You saw him dead?' Bjarni asked me, staring at the monk and scratching his blond head.

I shrugged. 'He looked dead,' I said. 'There was a lot of blood.'

Bjarni batted those words away as though blood had nothing to do with it, and I knew what he was thinking, what they were all thinking, and that was that the monk must have some power. Or else his god did.

'Dead or not, here he is,' Bjorn said, 'with a head like a mashed swede.'

Egfrith seemed to be enjoying the attention. He made the sign of the cross over Cynethryth's chest, then closed his eyes and began to mumble in prayer.

'Glum must have cut half his brain out,' Arnvid said, pointing his spear at the monk. 'Little bastard's madder than old Asgot.'

'Watch your tongue, Arnvid, or I'll cut it out while you're next asleep and feed it to the snails!' Asgot called, crossing the shingle towards
Serpent
.

'You should be dead, monk,' I said, still staring in disbelief, for I had seen Glum's sword crack his head.

Egfrith suddenly stopped his mumbling and turned to me.

'Should I? You think so?' he said, gingerly touching the bloodstained linen and staring at me. 'Then could it be any clearer that the Lord on high has chosen me to do His work? I will teach these heathens the mysteries of the true faith.' His little eyes were darting like tadpoles. 'I had not thought such a thing possible, but there it is. Perhaps there
is
hope for you creatures after all.' He shrugged. 'Perhaps I needed the sorest of tests to learn it.' I felt myself grimace. 'Did you know all of Wessex is celebrating?' he said. 'Even now men and women give thanks to God and light beacons on the high ground.
The
heathens have gone,
they told me,
back to the sea. Back to
the depths of Hell to minister for the Dark One.
But I knew different, Raven. I knew you had not gone yet.' He wagged a finger at me. 'I knew I would find you here on the shore. I felt the Lord's breath on my face and I knew I would not be too late.'

Unable to understand his words, the Norsemen suddenly seemed bored of the monk and disbanded to continue their preparations for leaving. Cynethryth touched Egfrith's shoulder affectionately, then turned and walked down to the sea.

'Is he working his magic on you, Raven?' Sigurd said, coming to stand beside me and planting his spear's butt in the shingle. A slight grin touched his lips, but beneath his breeze-stirred golden hair his eyes were slits of suspicion as they probed the monk.

'If he tries anything slippery I'll finish what Glum started,' I said in English for Egfrith's benefit.

'I am thinking you would,' Sigurd said, showing his teeth.

'I shall baptize you, Jarl Sigurd, and you will become one with the true faith,' Egfrith said firmly. He pointed a finger at me. 'And you will be next, Raven.'

'You mean to stay with us, Father?' I asked, glancing at Sigurd.

'My lord Ealdred has lost his mind, God have mercy on his soul,' Egfrith said. 'His wits have addled.' He looked up at me and pointed again, this time accusingly. 'The gospel book of Saint Jerome belongs here in an English house of prayer,' he spat angrily. 'It is no bauble! Such a thing is not for barter like a swine at market. Not even if the buyer
is
Charlemagne, God praise his hatred of heathens.' He raised his palms, closed his eyes and crossed himself, and I think he knew he had said too much, for if he intended to retrieve the Christ book, the last thing he ought to do was let us heathens know its value in silver. 'I will show Sigurd the most holy light, Raven. It will warm his ice-encrusted, maggot-ridden soul.' His eyes flicked to Sigurd, but the jarl appeared to take no offence. 'We shall all know the rewards of Paradise if the good Lord wills it. Perhaps even you, Raven,' he said as though he were offering me the world.

I shook my head. 'Not me, monk, but I'll be there when you baptize old Asgot.' I turned to see the godi wading out to
Serpent
, his arms raised to the blue sky. 'I wouldn't miss that for Svein's weight in coin.' Sigurd seemed amused by it all. 'Are you letting him ride
Serpent
with us?' I asked. I could not believe the jarl would take a useless Christ slave aboard his longship. I was horrified. 'Lord?'

Sigurd pursed his lips, then nodded. I bit my lip. Egfrith shot me a triumphant look and I shook my head and looked towards the shore. Cynethryth was staring out to sea, twining her hair into one thick braid, and the sight of her twisted a knot of pain in my chest, for I realized I would soon be gone, crossing the grey sea with the Fellowship. I would not see her again.

Later, Sigurd told me of the fight in the forest against Ealdred's men. His charge, as ferocious as a winter storm at sea, had surprised and shattered the English. It had cleaved them as a man drives a maul into an oak timber to split it along the grain.

'That whoreson Mauger didn't stay to the end. He does not know how to lead men.' Sigurd spat the words as though they were poison. 'Bjarni saw him mount up and ride as though his arse was on fire. The English fought bravely but they had no war leader and we cut them down, Raven, until their corpses lay thick as litter across the forest floor. The rest fled into the trees. It was a great victory.' He gripped the sword hilt at his hip. 'The gods were watching. I could feel them.'

The Wolfpack emerged ragged and bloodied but victorious. In all, seven Norsemen and all but one of the Wessexmen who had stood with them died that day and many others suffered grievous wounds which old Asgot was hard pressed to treat.

'Many good men now sit at the All-Father's mead bench, Raven,' Sigurd said, his fierce blue eyes threatening to fill with tears.

'They will shake the dust from the rafters, lord. Óðin will be proud to have them.' I did not know what else to say.

The Fellowship was one again; thirty-seven Sword-Norse oathsworn to Jarl Sigurd. The morning was clear and bright and the Norsemen busied themselves checking
Serpent
's hull, sail and oars. 'I'm happy that your friend chose to come with us,' Sigurd said, smiling and pointing at Penda who stood a little way off, running a whetstone along his sword's battered edge. 'I think he likes silver as much as he likes slaughter.' The jarl shook his head. 'A strange Englishman, that one. Fights like a demon. Perhaps his father was a Norseman, hey?'