Garrick’s face swam into focus. ‘Sorry to disturb you. We’ve spotted two more ships from the convoy.’
Vallon pinched the bridge of his nose and thrust himself up. Garrick supported him by the elbow. He pulled loose. ‘I’m not a cripple.’
He sighted on the ships. They were about a league off, drifting together with sails lowered. Helgi had set course towards them.
‘What do you reckon?’ said Raul.
‘Take us closer.’
They drew within half a mile of the ships. Helgi’s vessel had already run up on them.
‘Looks like one of them’s lost its rudder,’ Raul said.
‘Bring us within hailing distance.’
Raul manoeuvred
Shearwater
to within earshot of the convoy. Wayland and Garrick lowered the sail.
Shearwater
rocked on the groundswell. Vallon spotted Caitlin looking dishevelled and not at all regal. And there stood Drogo decidedly green about the gills, with another familiar Norman face beside him.
‘I forget his name,’ said Vallon.
Raul looked at him oddly. ‘Fulk, Captain. You broke his wrist the night you arrived at the castle.’
‘So I did. Find out where we are.’
Raul pointed at the distant coast. ‘What land is that?’
Someone shouted an answer that made Raul whistle. ‘We’re more than a day’s sail east of North Cape. The storm’s driven us right round the top of Norway.’
Helgi and some of his men had rowed to the crippled ship and were in discussion with its master. Raul established a dialogue with the other Iceland skipper.
‘They ain’t got a spare rudder,’ he reported. ‘They’re going to tow the ship to a haven.’
Vallon searched the vague coastline. ‘Does the land have a name?’
‘The captain called it Bjarmaland. Nothing there but wild men and beasts. I’ve heard of the place. It’s north of Rus.’
Vallon eyed the sea behind them. ‘It’s going to be a long haul to the Baltic.’
Raul pulled at his beard. One of his eyes had grown a blain like a polyp. ‘We’ll have to land, too. Water’s running low and Wayland’s nearly out of food for the falcons.’
‘What do you know about the route down the Norway coast?’
‘It ain’t easy. We have to follow a passage between a chain of skerries and the mainland, rip currents and whirlpools all the way. There’s one place where the ocean pours into the vast pit of the abyss and sucks ships down to hell. The Maelstrom they call it.’
‘Perhaps we can persuade one of the Icelanders to pilot us.’
‘Another ship!’ Syth cried.
The straggler was more than a league to the south, its sail just breaking the horizon. They watched it grow larger.
‘She’s damaged, too,’ said Raul. ‘She’s crabbing. And see how low she sits.’
Wayland grabbed a shroud and sprang onto the gunwale. He pulled himself as high as he could and peered from beneath his hand.
Vallon saw him frown. ‘Anything wrong?’
‘It isn’t an Iceland ship.’
‘What is it then?’
Wayland looked down. ‘It’s a drakkar. A dragon ship.’
Raul slapped his thigh. ‘Why didn’t I spot it myself?’ He faced Vallon’s puzzled stare. ‘A Viking longship, Captain. A warship. That’s why her hull’s so low. She’s built long and lean for speed. There ain’t nothing wrong with her steering. She’s aiming to get leeside of us before attacking.’
No one on the Icelandic ships had recognised the danger. Helgi and the captain of the damaged ship were locked in argument. Helgi’s ship had a spare rudder and he wasn’t prepared to part with it.
‘You’d better warn them,’ said Vallon.
Raul’s news prompted a moment’s stillness, then the Icelanders scuttled like panicked rats. A woman threw back her head in a despairing wail.
The longship had drawn close enough for Vallon to see the dragon head carved on its stempost. Figures swarmed and the ship’s hull bristled.
‘Taken to their oars,’ Raul said. ‘Must know we’ve recognised them.’
‘How many men will she be carrying?’
‘At least thirty. They’re pirates or slavers and I say we don’t wait around to find out which.’
‘You said they’re faster than us.’
‘Faster under sail, faster under oar. The sooner we get going, the better our chances.’
Vallon gnawed on his lip. ‘Bring us alongside.’
‘Captain, I know longships and the kind of man that sails on them.’
‘I won’t ask a second time.’
Raul’s mouth crimped. He marched off flinging out orders. Helgi’s vessel had come alongside the rudderless ship and was sawing against its hull. The crew and passengers were abandoning the cripple. Men bundled its sail onto Helgi’s ship and slashed the rigging. Others threw bales and other items of cargo across. Helgi oversaw the transfer of passengers. When Raul hailed him, he flapped his arm in a dismissive wave that made Vallon’s blood seethe.
‘Ask him what he plans to do.’
Raul bellowed across the gap. Two people on different ships called out together, jabbing in the direction of the longship.
‘They’re going to cut and run.’
Vallon watched the twinkling rhythm of the longship’s oars. ‘The Vikings won’t be satisfied with an empty hulk. Tell him we can resist them if we stand together.’
Raul trumpeted the proposal and strained for the answer. He drew back, sniffed and spat. ‘Anything you say, he’ll do the opposite. We got to get going.’
Vallon saw light gleam on rusty mail. ‘Drogo!’
The Norman turned and stared across the swell.
‘Between us we can muster enough fighting men to repel them. You know how deadly Wayland and Raul are with their bows. We’ll kill half a dozen Vikings before they can board. Tell Helgi.’
The Icelander was helping an elderly couple off the ship. Hands reached up to receive them. They were the last evacuees. Helgi sprang to his own ship, drew his sword and cut the crippled vessel loose. His crew hoisted sail and the ship gathered way.
Vallon spat with contempt. ‘Picks fights with strangers, then flees from pirates who’d gang-rape his sister in front of him before cutting out his heart.’ Vallon wiped his mouth. ‘All right. Get us under way.’
The two Iceland ships were steering north-east, sailing close-hauled, Helgi’s ship drawing ahead.
‘Why aren’t they sailing downwind?’ Vallon asked.
‘Makes sense,’ said Raul. ‘Longships have shallow draughts for raiding up rivers. Their keels don’t bite as deep as ours and they make more leeway sailing across the wind. That’s our only advantage.’
Vallon watched the abandoned knarr drifting in their wake. As the longship closed on it, all the oars rose to the vertical, then dipped and disappeared. The longship glided up to its prey.
‘How many rowers?’ Vallon asked Wayland.
‘Sixteen each side.’
The Vikings swarmed aboard the knarr. Vallon hadn’t given any thought to the time and he was surprised to see how late it was. The longship and its victim diminished in their wake. Dusk was beginning to encroach when the two outlines separated.
‘They’re coming after us,’ said Raul.
‘They won’t catch us before dark.’
Raul eyed the weather vane. ‘Wind’s shifting to the north. The Vikings know we’re making for the coast. They’ll aim to get ahead of us and lie in wait.’
‘Any ideas?’
‘Wait until dark, let the Vikings sail past and then lie up on the weather side. By morning they could be twenty miles downwind of us. Too far to claw back. That’ll give us plenty of sea room to find a safe haven.’
‘They might have thought of that.’
‘They might.’
‘The sky’s clearing and the moon’s waxing full. We don’t want the Vikings to find us drifting. Hold your course.’
‘Aye, Captain.’
Vallon gave a yawn that threatened to dislocate his jaw. ‘Wake me if … ’ He sketched a tired wave.
He tottered to his pallet, lay down and felt for his sword. His eyes fluttered and closed.
He woke batting away a hand. Someone was shaking him. He swung himself up into a sitting position and stretched his eyes wide.
‘It’s gone midnight,’ Wayland said. ‘Raul said to wake you if there was any change.’
Vallon blinked up. Everything had been transformed. The falcon on Wayland’s fist seemed irradiated by white fire. The dog sat beside its
master with its eyes burning pale and its hoary shape shadowed in deepest black on the deck. Vallon hoisted himself up. A full moon ringed by a halo cast a gaseous light over the ocean. Small clouds like puffs of smoke drifted low across the horizon, brightening as they crossed the moon’s path. The sea had gelled into a huge plane of crumpled silver. Over to port a sail shone.
‘Helgi’s ship,’ said Wayland.
Vallon spied another sail far away down their glittering wake.
‘That’s the other Iceland ship.’
Vallon probed every quarter. ‘The Vikings?’
‘No sign.’
A flight of meteorites glided overhead and disappeared one by one into the furthest reaches of space. The falcon swivelled her head and preened. She roused and ran her beak down her flight feathers. Vallon stroked her breast.
‘How quickly you’ve tamed her.’
‘Not my doing. She’s naturally gentle.’
‘How are the other falcons faring?’
‘They’re healthy enough so far. They don’t suffer from seasickness as men do. My main worry is running out of food.’
‘We’ll land as soon as we’ve shaken off the Vikings.’
‘What will we do if they attack us?’
‘We’ll make it go hard for them. How are you off for arrows?’
‘I’ve got a full quiver.’ Wayland paused. ‘It’s Syth I’m worried about – if I’m killed, I mean. I know what the Vikings will do to her.’
‘Don’t believe everything Raul tells you.’
‘It’s true, though. You know it is. Syth and I have talked about it. She has a knife, but I’m not sure she’ll be able to use it if the time comes.’
‘Nobody’s going to harm her.’
‘But if the worst happens …’
What could Vallon say? That there were grimmer fates for a young woman than being captured by sea pirates? That if Wayland was dead, it didn’t matter to him what happened to Syth?
‘If it’s in my power, I’ll make sure she doesn’t fall into the Vikings’ hands.’
‘Thank you.’
*
Vallon stood watch until the moon grew wan and the stars that had guided them lay low in the east. The rest of the company rose and stood beating their arms across their chests and blowing into their hands. A cold breeze from the north-west had carried them back to within sight of land. Helgi’s ship ploughed a furrow a couple of miles ahead. The other vessel had dropped further behind. No sign of the longship.
Garrick brought him a breakfast of bread and a bowl of purplish gloop. Vallon examined it at arm’s length.
‘It’s dulse, sir.’
‘Dulse.’
‘Seaweed, sir. The Icelanders eat it in winter to keep scurvy at bay.’
Vallon spooned up a tiny portion, closed his eyes and tasted. His mouth puckered. He spat it out and slid the mess over the side.
‘We’ve been at sea for less than two weeks. Don’t tell me we’ve run out of proper food.’
‘I can fetch you an egg, sir.’
Vallon brightened. ‘A fresh egg?’
‘Afraid not. They’ve been preserved in ash since last year.’
Vallon grimaced. He’d seen Icelanders sucking the green and watery contents of such eggs. ‘Leave it. The bread will suffice.’
Garrick leaned his hands on the gunwale and surveyed the ocean. ‘Looks like we’ve lost them.’
‘I’m not so sure.’
Garrick nodded towards the laggard in their wake. ‘If they do show up, they’ll get that one first.’
The breeze carried them closer to the coast. Vallon watched it reveal itself. Undulating barrens tinged with the colours of autumn. No mountains or trees. Helgi was heading for the mouth of a large river. The sun reached its zenith. Both Iceland ships were still visible when one of Vallon’s sweeps picked up something behind the laggard.
‘Wayland.’
Wayland hurried up.
‘Is that another sail?’
Wayland looked long and hard. ‘Yes.’
Vallon glowered at Helgi’s ship. Someone on board must have spotted the longship, but the knarr continued making for the rivermouth. ‘Look at that. Thinks only of himself.’
‘Can’t blame him,’ said Raul. ‘He wouldn’t be able to reach the knarr before the longship catches it.’
‘They’re his countrymen. He should have been escorting them. All he cares about is himself and his precious sister.’ Vallon narrowed his eyes, estimating distances. ‘If we take to the oars, we might be able to reach the Icelanders first.’
‘No, we won’t. The Vikings can row three times as fast as we can, and they’ve got the wind behind them. Captain, leaving the Icelanders don’t sit comfortable with me neither, but we got no choice.’
Vallon cast another glance at Helgi’s ship. ‘Heave to. We’ll give the Icelanders a chance to catch up.’
Raul gave a distraught hop. ‘Captain—’
‘Heave to.’
Shearwater
lost way. The company waited.
It was a strange sort of day, the wind coming in gusts that blew alternately warm and cold. They must be at the confluence of currents. The Iceland ship slowly gained on them, but the longship was making the faster headway.
Garrick crossed himself. ‘There are women and children on board. God help them.’
‘Isn’t there anything we can do?’ Hero murmured.
‘No, there ain’t,’ Raul snapped. ‘We’re putting ourselves in peril for nothing.’
Half a mile from their prey the Vikings took to their oars. The sea foamed at the blades and gnashed around the longship’s bow. The monks fell to their knees, entreating God to intervene. Vallon checked the angle of the sun. He glanced at his ring, saw that the gem had darkened and dismissed its warning. There was hardly a cloud in the sky and it wasn’t the first time that the jewel had predicted falsely. The breeze carried faint cries from the Icelandic ship.
Richard covered his face. ‘I can’t bear to watch.’
The longship surged up to the knarr and the Vikings leaped aboard. A brief melee and then across the sea drifted the blaring of a war horn.
‘Permission to get underway, Captain.’
Two figures toppled from the knarr. Another followed. ‘What’s that about?’