Viking Gold (54 page)

Koll came to a standstill,
his gaze drifting out to sea. “So that’s who poisoned my Thora,” he said
quietly. It wasn’t the reaction Redknee had expected. There was no cry of
anguish, nor protestations of revenge. Just sad acceptance.

“
There
you are!”

Redknee turned to see Magnus
running to catch them. The steersman smiled when he saw Koll. “We all thought
you were dead,” he said.

Koll grunted distractedly.

“I was just telling Koll
about Harold,” Redknee explained.

Magnus nodded. “Can you
believe it?”

Koll shook his head and
resumed walking, his face set hard against the sea-breeze. “I do find it hard
to believe Harold slit Karl’s throat and poisoned our food.”

“Of course, he denied the
killings,” Redknee said.

Magnus snorted. “He would.
But then, people are hard to read.” They’d almost reached the longhouse. Magnus
hurried ahead and threw wide the door. The smell of stale wood smoke filled the
air. He called over his shoulder: “I’m happier reading the waves.”

“A man after my own
thinking,” Koll said, laying Silver on the floor and slipping a skin of mead
from his cloak.

“So Ragnar just let you leave
– knowing you were planning on starting a new trade route with
Iceland
?” Koll
asked, laying down his axe and standing clear of the tall pine from which
they’d just hacked out a wedge near the base.

Redknee nodded. They’d been
out in the forest since early morning and the sun was almost full in the sky.
Three long pine trunks lay nearby, waiting to have their branches cleared. Toki
and Magnus were working together a little way off, Koll had instigated a
competition to see which team could fell and clear the most trees by
noon
. Judging by the
infrequent shouts of excitement from where Toki and Magnus worked, Redknee
thought he and Koll had a good chance of coming out on top. It was important –
Koll’s last skin of new-island mead was at stake.

Koll pushed the trunk of the
tall pine and shouted “Timber!”

Redknee fancied he heard
cursing through the trees.

“What I don’t understand,”
Koll shouted above the noise of the pine crashing to the ground, “is why he let
you live at all.”

“I won’t take that comment
personally,” Redknee said. “I believe Sinead begged for my life. I don’t think
there’s any more to it.”

“Seems unlikely that would
influence a man like Ragnar,” Koll said, starting to clear the larger branches
from the pine trunk with a small stone-headed hatchet. Redknee smiled – it was
a Flint People piece.

He jumped up beside Koll,
adding his own muscle to the job. “I think,” Redknee said between axe strokes,
“that Ragnar knew Uncle Sven had Sinead all along … I think he knew she lived
at the monastery, and when he heard Sven had been back and taken slaves he
wanted to know if his daughter was among them. I think it was one insult too
many.”

“Aye,” Koll said, pausing to
wipe the sweat from his brow. “That’s as may be, but money and power are more
important to a man like Ragnar than family – especially a bastard daughter he’s
only just met.”

They
left the Promised Land on the spring equinox. They would have left sooner, but
for the need to wait for the right winds.
Wavedancer
had required a few
minor repairs to her hull, but she looked as good as new when she greeted the
sea that bright morning.

Once they had the sail up and
were underway, Redknee moved to the stern. He wanted to watch as the Promised
Land, with its green hills, long sandy beaches and sheer cliffs, disappeared
out of view. There was something sad about leaving – about returning home. It
was as if everything that happened, since they set sail from the Northlands
almost half a year ago, had been a dream.

If he
closed his eyes, he could almost believe Ragnar’s attack on his village had
never happened. Any moment his mother would call him in from the training yard;
Uncle Sven laughing as he tried to carry his sword, spear and shield together.

“We don’t call you Redknee
for nothing,” his uncle would say. “You’re the clumsiest Northman I’ve ever
seen.”

How he’d hated the teasing then.
He knew now that it was all in jest. That the real world, outside his village,
was so much tougher than his family had ever been. And it was Ragnar who had
brought that hard, cruel world rushing in. How he wished he’d taken his revenge
– and to hell with Sinead and
her
new-found family.

They
arrived at
Greenland
a mere ten days later. Redknee was glad to see
Thorvald settling in well to his responsibilities without Gisela looking over his
shoulder. Thorvald was glad to see them too, laying on a feast of spring lamb
and herring. Although most of his wealth was lost when Ragnar destroyed the
tunnels, the boy king still bought almost all their cargo. He had plans to
build the greatest palace ever seen this far north, one filled with light and
air, in contrast to the dark earthen warren where he’d grown up. And, he told
Redknee, he would have need for a lot more timber … if Redknee could supply it.

The journey from
Greenland
to
Iceland
with
the last of the timber was harder. Huge waves, as tall as the mast, threatened
to overwhelm them. Only Magnus’s skill with the helm, and Toki’s quick lowering
of the sail ensured they stayed afloat.

When they arrived in
Reykjavik
harbour, wet and battered, they were amazed by the change in scene since they’d
left. Redknee had expected to find a busy hub, desperate for timber to rebuild
their shattered town. Instead, they found a wasteland, barely populated and
still smouldering from the volcano’s fire. He sought out Ivar, who they’d left
sheltering, with most of
Reykjavik
’s unfortunate inhabitants, on an island just outside
the harbour. Redknee was unsure what he would tell Ivar about his daughter. He
still thought Astrid had murdered Hawk. But as for the others … Karl, Thora and
the Bjornsson twins, he couldn’t be sure. Ivar had been good to Redknee, he
deserved more than supposition when it came to news of his only daughter.

Redknee needn’t have worried,
for Ivar was nowhere to be seen. The poor wretches who were trying to rebuild
Reykjavik
said
they thought he’d gone back home, to the
Sheep
Islands
, others thought he’d died, drowned, when
Mount
Hekla
had
erupted for a second time.

Much to Toki and Magnus’s
annoyance Redknee offered the last of their timber to these wretches for free.

“But we’ve risked our lives
for this wood,” Magnus said. “We can’t just give it away.”

“These people have nothing,”
Redknee said. “Thorvald gave us a lot of coin – a full case – for the wood he
bought. We can afford to be a little charitable.”

Brother Alfred grinned. “I
see you are becoming a Christian.”

“It’s nothing,” Redknee said,
shrugging, for in truth, he felt no affection for the ways of the Church.

Eventually, the others agreed
to give away the timber, and they decided to spend the evening celebrating
having rid themselves of their cargo. They found a small stone tavern on the
edge of town. Being one of the few places to have survived the volcano, it was
packed. A mixture of stale sweat and hops filled the air.

Koll took a deep breath.
“When you can’t find mead,” he said smiling, “ale’s the next best thing.”

They found five seats near
the back and ordered. Silver slipped under the table and settled on top of
Redknee’s feet. His injuries attracted the sympathy of the serving wench who
surreptitiously slipped him a morsel of her master’s best ham.

It was a long night, replete
with dancing, games of dice and stories of bygone times. None were as rich as
their tale of the journey to the Promised Land and the fierce warriors they met
there. Even the sea-wizened merchants who claimed to have been as far as the
exotic desert city of
Baghdad
, listened in wonder as Koll, helped by Toki and
Redknee, told the tale of their voyage.

As the night drew to a close,
Toki pulled Redknee aside. “Aren’t you upset about Sinead?” he asked.

“Why should I be?”

Toki shook his head. “Just
thought you had your eye on that little one, that’s all.” 

“She’s going to be married
well … to Prince Halfdan. I can’t compete.”

“Didn’t his last wife die in a
riding accident?” Koll cut in.

Toki shrugged. “I didn’t know
that.”

“Yes,” Koll said
emphatically. “She did.’ He turned to Redknee. ‘Before I came to your uncle’s
village, I used to work in a smithy near Prince Halfdan’s fort. He’s not that
young – maybe five and thirty. And there were rumours.”

“What kind of rumours?”
Redknee asked.

“Well … the horse that threw
his wife. Some say he startled it deliberately.”

Too
tired to make it back to
Wavedancer,
Redknee fell asleep in a space
beneath the eaves. He’d had to pay the landlord extra for the peace. But it was
worth it, he thought as he dozed off, Silver at his side. Brother Alfred had
left the tavern early to sleep on
Wavedancer
. Redknee wasn’t sure where
Toki and Magnus had gone, but Koll was sleeping downstairs with the chest of
coin. It would be safe.

Redknee
awoke to the sounds of a busy household: the milling of corn; squawking
chickens; children playing. For a moment he thought he was back home in his
uncle’s longhouse by the side of Oster Fjord. Then everything came flooding
back. He rose and went downstairs. Koll was out in the yard washing his face in
a bucket of water.

“Morning,” Redknee grunted.
“Are the others awake?”

“No idea,” Koll said as Toki
staggered, blinking, into the daylight.

“Anyone seen Magnus?” Toki
asked.

Koll shook his head. “Thought
he was with you.”

Redknee’s stomach sank. “Koll
… do you still have the chest … with Thorvald’s coin?”

“Yes …” Koll said. “I hid it
beneath the floorboards—”

They went to check where Koll
had hidden the money. Koll stamped his foot to find the loose board.

“Here it is,” he said,
kneeling.

Redknee stared into the hole.
It was empty.

Koll’s face fell. “I don’t
understand.”

Redknee ran to the door. “If
we go now,” he said, we might still catch him.”

“But no one saw where I hid
it.”

“You were right, Koll,”
Redknee said, banging his fist on the doorframe, “Ragnar didn’t allow me …
any
of us
… to go so easily. He sent his spy.”

Koll scratched his head. “I
thought Harold was his spy?”

“Harold was Mord’s spy. Of
course Ragnar wouldn’t leave his information-gathering to little more than a
child,” Redknee said. “I should have realised there would be someone else –
someone under his direct authority. Magnus went with Uncle Sven to Kaupangen;
he must have met Ragnar then.”

“Do you think he killed Hawk
… and the others?” Koll asked.

Redknee shook his head. “I
still think Astrid killed Hawk. That it was always her intention. But if I’m
right, she got the wolfsbane from Magnus.”

“Then you think he killed
Thora …”

Redknee nodded. “Yes, I do,”
he said gently.

“Well then, by Thor’s hammer
– what are we waiting for?”

Redknee,
Koll and Toki hurried to the docks, but they were too late. A
knar
had already
left for the Northlands that morning with a new crew member on board matching
Magnus’s description.

Sailing
Wavedancer
with just four men would be a struggle, so they asked around
the docks if anyone wanted free passage to the Northlands. Three burly
Icelanders took up their offer.

The mood on board
Wavedancer
the day they sailed from
Reykjavik
was low. They’d discussed returning to the Promised
Land for more timber, but the three Northmen were in consensus – they’d had
enough and just wanted to go home. Brother Alfred, too, was keen to return to
Winchester
and
tell the leaders of his church about the new land and strange people he’d
found. He believed there might be an abbacy in it for him, which he explained
to Redknee, was a bit like being a jarl for holy men.

Their plan was to press on
for home, avoiding a stay on the
Sheep
Islands
. They had plenty of food and water for the seven men
and Silver.

The weather held for four days
but on the fifth day ugly black clouds gathered on the horizon. On the sixth
day, the skies broke, sending hard, lashing rain. The sea rose until the waves
towered above the mast, then crashed with terrifying power across the deck.
This time, lowering the sail made little difference and the storm tossed poor
Wavedancer
about as if she were a child’s toy.