Raven: Blood Eye (45 page)

Next morning, we arrived before the timber walls of Ealdorman Ealdred's small fortress, having travelled through the night. I hated watching Cynethryth walk through the gates alone, for I feared what Mauger might do, if he still lived, to prevent her from telling Ealdred the truth about Weohstan's death. But she assured me that even if Mauger had made it back to his lord after the fight in the forest, he would not dare harm her here, despite her having ridden to warn me of the Wessexmen's ambush. Nor could Cynethryth believe that her father would hurt her. I promised to wait until she returned with news of how things stood within the walls, and though she was probably right, I whispered a prayer to Loki the maker of mischief that she would be back soon and unharmed. I did not pray to Óðin, because I was unsure how I stood in the Far-Wanderer's eyes for having fled from the Wolfpack when all was against them. With the prayer barely past my lips, I put my rolled-up cloak beneath my head and fell asleep in a ditch beside a thick hedgerow of hawthorn and hazel.

'Wake up, Raven.' Cynethryth's voice was low and urgent. She was back before my dreams had taken shape. 'Wake up. Ealdred is at the coast already. He waits for a good wind to take him across the sea. And he has his silver with him.' She was holding a linen sack.

'My jarl's silver,' I said groggily. She nodded, coming into focus as I knuckled my eyes. 'Ealdred's a fool, taking his fortune on to a boat. A boat he has never sailed before. Rán's white-haired daughters will smell the silver and spill it into the sea and him with it.' I rubbed my aching neck.

'The Lord God will turn your tongue black for saying such things and it will fall out one day and you will be left mute,' she chided, frowning. 'Food,' she added, following my eyes to the sack in her hand. I nodded, my belly rumbling. 'Godgifu the cook said Ealdred intends to sell the gospel book of Saint Jerome to the great Emperor Charlemagne.'

'Charlemagne? Are you sure?'

'We have to hurry, Raven!' She pulled at my brynja.

'So Ealdred was never going to give the book to King Egbert?' I asked. Egbert was king of Wessex back then, after Beorhtric, though he had yet to become Bretwalda, ruler of all Britain.

'I don't know. I don't think the king knows anything about it,' Cynethryth replied, handing me my shield.

'That makes sense,' I said, slinging the shield across my back and picking up my helmet. 'King Egbert would not have had Sigurd's Norsemen roaming his land. Of course he wouldn't. How would it look to his people? To his churchmen?'

'And our people went along with it because Ealdred told them it was their king's wish,' Cynethryth said, putting the puzzle together. 'They had no choice.'

'Ealdred plays a dangerous game,' I said. 'He's a scheming bastard, I'll say that for him.'

Charlemagne was a legendary warrior by then, the most powerful Christian alive, but for the Pope. Though some said even Pope Leo bent the knee to Charlemagne. If God wouldn't listen, you prayed to Charlemagne. That's what the Christians said. Still do and the man's been dust for years.

'I hope the wind blows his piss back into his face,' I said, meaning Ealdred and feeling the breeze across my eyes and wondering if even that would side with the ealdorman to carry him out of my reach. Cynethryth handed me a hunk of bread and cheese and some salted meat and we set off, bypassing Ealdred's fortress to get to him before the wind changed.

Also in Cynethryth's sack were peas, leeks, turnips and two small onions, and this food kept our strength up on the two-day journey to the southern Wessex coast. But it was a different kind of hunger that stirred in my guts when I eventually smelled the sea, long before its wild sound filled my ears or its grey vastness crammed my eyes.

'You miss it, don't you?' Cynethryth asked as I stopped to test the wind's direction by throwing a handful of grass into the air. I nodded, inhaling the salty air. The wind still blew from the south and this was good because it meant Ealdred could not have sailed yet. Sigurd could have taken
Serpent
against the wind, but Ealdred was not Sigurd, and I hoped he would not dare risk the ship's being thrown back against the coast. Of course, he could have rowed her instead. It would be backbreaking work against the waves, but it would take him away. But then, Ealdred did not know he had anything to fear, and so we had to believe he would wait for a good wind.

'I have come to love the sea,' I said, thinking of the Fellowship, of Sigurd and Svein and Olaf. 'The sea can tell you much about yourself, but the knowledge does not come easily. First you must trust your life to her.' I grimaced. 'Being out there in a storm is terrifying, Cynethryth,' I said.

She frowned. 'My mother used to fear the sea. She said it was hungry for men's souls and that's why so many drown trying to master her.' She gave a humourless smile. 'Sounds like something a heathen would say, doesn't it?'

I nodded. 'But your mother gave birth to you, Cynethryth, and you are as brave as anyone I have known.' She dragged her teeth across her bottom lip and the ache to kiss her was so strong that I looked away. 'I think fear can kill you in its own way,' I said quietly. I removed my helmet to mop my brow. 'Fear keeps a man by his hearth and sees him grow old before his time. Fear makes a man betray his friends when it seems the gods have abandoned him,' I said, thinking of Glum. 'Did you ever look into Jarl Sigurd's eyes? Right into the dark holes at their centre? Or Bjorn's or Bjarni's or Olaf's?' She shrugged. 'The sea lives within them, Cynethryth. They are wild as the sea is wild, but they are free. No man commands the waves.'

'My mother would not have liked you, Raven,' Cynethryth said. 'She would not have let me walk with you to the market, let alone this.'

'Your father will like me even less,' I said with a grin. But Cynethryth was not smiling.

'I no longer recognize my life,' she said. 'Everything has changed. I am alone.'

'No, Cynethryth, you are not alone.' I felt my cheeks fill with warmth and for a few moments there was just the low roar of the sea and the decaying screech of far off gulls. We watched a great black cormorant head out to sea, its wingbeats strong and even.

'The wind has dropped,' Cynethryth said suddenly, and she was right. 'We must hurry.' I looked out to sea and saw a distant island of grey rock and knew that the longships sat further to the east, where we had moored them those many weeks ago. I knew also that our luck had run out. The wind had suddenly changed, coming from the west now and whipping the scent of yellow horned poppies off the far hills towards us. We stuck to the higher ground, tracking eastwards in the hope of rounding the bluff to see
Serpent
and
Fjord-Elk
rocking below us on the rising tide. What would we do then? What patterns were the Norns of fate weaving for us?

I took my war gear from the flour sack and put on the mail brynja, helmet and sword, re-clothing myself as a warrior of renown. Perhaps I was the last of the Wolfpack. Perhaps Sigurd and the others were already feasting at Óðin's table in Valhöll, waiting for me to join them in preparation for Ragnarök, the final battle of the gods. I shivered at the touch of the cool iron, finding its weight comforting though thinking it strange what courage forged iron and steel can give a man, even when in his heart he knows it will not be enough.

'Horses! Listen, Raven!' Cynethryth said above the noise of the surf. 'Hide! Quickly!' With my helmet on I heard nothing, but looked around, thinking there must be a ledge out of sight below the chalk cliff edge. But it was too late. Riders galloped over the rise before us, trampling the thick grass.

'Your father's men?' I asked, then recognized the banner tied to a rider's spear. A leaping stag on a green cloth. 'You don't need to answer that,' I murmured, gripping my sword's hilt and resisting the urge to unsling the round shield.

'Leave it to me. Don't kill them,' she warned, and I was flattered, because there were twelve of them.

The horsemen reined in before us, yanking back on their mounts' necks to stop them, and I noticed that the animals were still fresh, meaning that Ealdred was probably close.

'Lady Cynethryth?' one of the warriors asked, leaning across his saddle to get a better look at the girl. They all wore leather armour, but all had swords at their waists.

'Where is my father, Hunwald?' Cynethryth demanded, throwing back her hood.

'The ealdorman is putting out to sea in the Norseman's ship, my lady,' he said, thumbing behind him. 'What in God's name are you doing here?'

'I must speak with Ealdred,' she said. 'Take me to him.'

Hunwald looked at me, taking in my arms and my bloodeye. 'You are the heathen,' he said, drawing his sword. The other men bristled, then kicked their mounts to surround me.

'You will not touch him!' Cynethryth yelled as they dismounted and drew their swords or levelled their spears at me.

'Stay back, Lady Cynethryth. We have orders to kill any Norsemen we find in Wessex,' the warrior said flatly. He was a young man with a sand-coloured beard, but he was powerfully built.

'Don't be a fool, Hunwald,' Cynethryth snapped. 'This man has helped me. He saved me from those bastard Norsemen.' Hunwald was taken aback by her tone, though a couple of the others were smirking. 'Now, take me to my father before it's too late.'

Hunwald shook his head. 'He must be disarmed,' he said, planting his feet ready for my attack. Cynethryth turned to me and nodded and I reluctantly handed my sword and long knife over to one of the warriors. Then, having no other choice, we mounted, each behind a Wessexman, and rode down to the beach.

My heart sank as I saw
Fjord-Elk
under sail heading out of the bay, her benches manned by Englishmen and her dragon-headed prow gone, replaced by a wooden cross which rose on the waves to greet the southern sky. We rode down a worn path to the shingle beach where the breaking foam bubbled before sinking among the stones, and there we dismounted. There was no sign of Black Floki and for a moment I wondered if he had made a bargain with Ealdred and was even now at
Fjord-
Elk
's bow, looking out to sea, his journey chest brimming with silver.

Hunwald raised his hands to his mouth and called out to the vessel.
Serpent
, Sigurd's favourite ship, sat forlornly at anchor, watching her sister ship sail away while she remained fettered and bound to the land of her enemies. Hunwald called again and from that distance I recognized Ealdorman Ealdred when he came to the stern and stood there gripping the top strake and looking back to the beach. Beside him was the hulking figure of Mauger. If Ealdred caught Hunwald's words in the wind, or recognized his daughter, he made no sign of it as he stood swaying with the ship's rise and dip.

'It's no use,' Hunwald said, shaking his head. 'They cannot hear us and we cannot hear them.'

'We don't need to hear them,' one of the other warriors said. 'Look at Mauger.'

Ealdred had turned his back and was now lost amongst the shapes of other men, but Mauger still stood at the slender, curving stern. At first it was hard to be sure what sign he was making over and over again, but then it became clear. One arm was raised, the hand pointing at us. In his other hand he gripped something. A knife. He was drawing the blade across his throat.

'WE'LL KILL THE NORSE SCUM, BUT NOT THE GIRL. THAT'S THE END
of it,' Hunwald said, raising a hand to quiet another warrior. The Wessexmen stood amongst several ox-hide shelters on the grassy salt marsh beyond the high tide line, and they were arguing about what Mauger had been telling them to do. Cynethryth and I sat back to back on the weed-strewn shingle, our hands and legs bound, and I cursed myself for handing over my sword. The Wessexmen had overpowered me without breaking a sweat, though one was nursing a split lip.

'I agree with Cearl,' another warrior said. 'Mauger meant both of them.' He mimicked Mauger's throat-slitting gesture. 'That's why Ealdred turned his back, see? He wants done with it. The Lord rain a pot of piss on me if I'm wrong.'

'If you're so sure, Hereric, then you put your sword in Cynethryth,' another man said, waving his arm wildly. 'I'm not having my balls cut off and rammed down my throat for murdering the ealdorman's daughter.'