Hawk Quest

by Robert Lyndon

  ‘They’re with Wayland.’

  ‘How many?’

  ‘Two.’

  ‘Not enough. We won’t get clear on foot.’ Vallon made for the stable at a dead run. ‘Raul, give me a hand. Hero, watch the street.’

  Hero was dimly aware of shutters opening and householders crying out in alarm. He kept seeing the pleading stare of the dying soldier on the stair. Someone touched his arm. Wayland had materialised out of the dark. He gestured with his chin at the guard lying near the entrance.

  ‘There are more inside. It’s a charnel house.’ Hero’s stomach heaved.

  Vallon and Raul ran two saddled horses out of the stable. Lights were beginning to spark on the castle ramparts. A bugle blew.

  ‘They’re coming,’ Vallon said. He helped Hero on to one of the mules, then mounted his horse. ‘Ride like the devil.’

  They galloped clear of the town, Vallon dragging Hero’s mule by its reins. They reached a river and forded it, the water cold to their knees. On the other side Vallon pulled up. The city cast a shadow in the night, three columns of lights crawling out from its base.

  ‘It isn’t just Drogo now,’ said Vallon. ‘The Normans won’t leave a rock unturned until they’ve caught us. They’ll be watching all the ports. We’ll have to turn west, lie up in a forest.’

  ‘We found the ship.’

  ‘You found it! Where?’

  ‘Wayland will tell you.’

  ‘It’s damaged,’ the falconer muttered.

  Vallon’s jaw dropped. ‘He spoke. Am I dreaming? Is this a night of miracles?’ He grasped Wayland’s arm. ‘Damaged, you say. How badly? How long to make it seaworthy?’

  ‘I don’t know. Days, Snorri said.’

  ‘We don’t have days,’ Raul said. ‘Drogo will find out about the ship from the moneylender.’

  Vallon thought about it. ‘Aaron won’t admit to knowing about the ship, and even Drogo will think twice about harming one of the King’s money-spinners.’ He turned back to Wayland. ‘Where’s the ship berthed?’

  ‘It’s not in a harbour. It’s hidden in the marshes.’

  One of the torchlit columns was bobbing in their direction. ‘Better get moving,’ Raul said.

  ‘Ride on,’ Vallon said. He heeled his horse alongside Hero. The moon emerged from the clouds, lighting one side of his blood-spattered face. He spread his arms in an embrace, but Hero beat them away.

  ‘We had to kill the soldiers,’ Vallon told him. ‘If we hadn’t, all three of us would be dead. We wouldn’t have suffered clean deaths. Before they hanged us they would have broken us on the rack. They would have wound ropes around our temples until our eyes sprang from their sockets and our brains leaked from our ears.’

  ‘This isn’t why I came back,’ Hero shouted.

  ‘And that’s why I sent you away.’

  Tears and snot ran down Hero’s face. ‘I was going to be a doctor. I was going to save lives.’

  Vallon shook him. ‘You have. You saved mine. You saved Raul’s. You saved yourself.’ He wrenched at his reins. ‘Now shut up and ride.’

  XIII

  Sunset was gilding the reed tops as Snorri ferried the last of the fugitives to the island. Euphoria had given way to gloom. It seemed to Vallon that they’d reached a dead end rather than a sanctuary. All their hopes rested on a crippled ship and a man of barely human form. Even if the ship was salvageable, Vallon couldn’t see how they could float it out of the marsh. And if they did manage to reach the sea, they still had to find a crew. Wherever Vallon looked, he saw problems. No shelter except for a rotting lean-to. No wood for fuel, no fresh water except what little they’d brought with them. And, having left the horses and mules hobbled behind Snorri’s shack, they had only the punt for transport.

  While Raul and Richard stripped the ship of its camouflage, Snorri scuttled about showing off its features.

  The knarr was a sturdy workhorse, fifty feet from stem to stern and more than thirteen across the beam. Amidships was a hold with space for fifteen tons of cargo and two small half-decks at each end that could be used for shelter and cooking in foul weather. Stored upside down across the hold was the ship’s boat, about fifteen feet long. Thirteen overlapping strakes made up each side of Shearwater’s hull. In the topmost strake below the gunwale were eight oar ports — two on each side of the fore and aft decks. Snorri showed Vallon the side-rudder he’d removed from its fittings on the starboard quarter. He showed him the pine mast he’d set aside on trestles. Most of the damage was confined to the starboard hull, where timbers had been stove in over a length of about twelve feet. To row the knarr to its resting place, Snorri had lowered its draught by offloading tons of stone ballast at the mouth of the creek.

  All this Snorri explained in a mixture of mangled English and mutilated French.

  ‘Where did you learn your French?’ Vallon asked.

  Snorri rubbed thumb and forefinger together. ‘In Norwich market. Normans be me best customers.’

  Vallon and Raul’s eyes met.

  Richard and Wayland drifted away as the light began to fail. Vallon made another inspection and stood back, chin in hand. The ship was sounder than he’d first thought.

  Snorri fawned in front of him. ‘What d’ye think, cap’n?’

  ‘Where will you find the timber and other materials?’

  ‘Norwich, cap’n. Ain’t nowhere nearer for what we need.’

  ‘How long to make it seaworthy?’

  ‘Three weeks iffen ye want her nice and shipshape.’

  ‘You’ve got five days.’

  Vallon didn’t wait for Snorri’s response. He paced off the distance between the ship and the river. Ninety yards. He looked back along the mud-filled channel.

  ‘It will take us a month to dig it out.’

  ‘I been ponderin’ that meself. I knows a few sturdy fellas who’d be happy to work for a good day rate.’

  ‘Will they keep their mouths shut?’

  ‘Oh yes, cap’n. Marsh folk be tight as clams.’

  ‘We need a couple of boats to get about. And I want the horses brought here.’

  ‘You leave it to Snorri, cap’n.’ He bared his atrocious teeth. ‘We ain’t discussed fees and other particulars.’

  Vallon studied the ship again. ‘Let’s cost the repairs.’

  When he joined the rest of the company, a bloated spring moon was floating free of the marsh. Geese passed in relays across its face, crying like hounds. Snorri hovered at the fringe of the firelight, rubbing his hands.

  ‘Well, gentlemens, mebbes it’s time ye told Snorri what haven ye’re bound for.’

  ‘Sit down,’ said Vallon.

  Snorri lowered himself to the ground, grinning cautiously.

  ‘The Normans are hunting us,’ Vallon said.

  ‘I knew ye were wrong’uns the moment I set eyes on that Wayland. I ain’t got no more affection for Normans than what you have, but it ain’t what ye’re running from that pesters me. It’s where ye’re going.’

  ‘Iceland. A trading expedition. We’re after falcons.’

  Snorri’s grin remained intact. The others stopped eating and looked at each other. Snorri jumped up. ‘I ain’t going to Iceland.’

  Vallon patted the bullion chest. ‘We’ll pay you well.’ He scooped up a handful of coins and poured them back. ‘A fee or a share of the profits. Your choice.’

  Snorri’s tongue flickered. ‘What goods are ye trading?’

  ‘Whatever finds a ready market. You’d know more about that than me.’

  ‘Ye can’t go wrong with timber. There ain’t no forests in Iceland.’

  ‘Apart from falcons, what goods do they have in exchange?’

  ‘Woollens and down, whalemeat and cod. And they ship walrus ivory and white bearskins from the Greenland settlements.’

  ‘Snorri, it sounds to me like this voyage could set you up for life.’

  Snorri’s lips rolled back. ‘What’s my share?’

  ‘One-fifth.’ />
  ‘One-fifth,’ Snorri repeated. ‘One-fifth.’ He dropped to his haunches. ‘Where ye taking ’em?’

  Vallon accepted a shank of smoke-blackened mutton from Raul. ‘We’ll be trading as we go. Timber to Iceland, ivory to Rus.’

  ‘Rus!’

  Vallon wrenched at the tough meat. ‘Further than that. The falcons are bound for Anatolia.’

  ‘Where’s that?’

  ‘East of Constantinople.’

  Snorri bobbed back up. ‘East of Miklagard! That ain’t a possibility.’

  Vallon shrugged. ‘That’s our problem. Carry us as far as Norway and your job’s done.’

  Snorri looked cornered. ‘I got to sleep on it.’

  Vallon stood and put an arm around his shoulders. ‘I need your answer tonight. Tomorrow, I want you to go to Norwich and buy the materials. Why don’t you take a stroll and mull things over?’

  Snorri backed into the dark. They could hear him conducting a debate with himself.

  ‘I thought we were sailing for Norway,’ Richard said.

  ‘Change of plan. It’s April now. The trading fleet from Iceland won’t reach Norway until late summer. There’s no certainty that it will be carrying gyrfalcons, let alone white ones. Even if it did, we’d have to pay a fortune for them. We have the whole summer ahead of us. We can sail to Iceland at our leisure. Wayland can harvest the falcons at their nests or trap the choicest specimens. They won’t cost us a penny.’

  Wayland nodded.

  ‘Another consideration. Drogo knows what purpose is driving us. Our crimes are serious enough to have been brought to the King’s notice. England must have diplomatic relations with Norway. I don’t want to spend the next four months worrying about being arrested. In Iceland we’ll be beyond the Normans’ reach.’

  ‘Makes sense,’ Raul said.

  ‘I don’t want to sail anywhere with Snorri,’ Richard said. ‘He has habits so foul it makes me sick just to think of them.’

  ‘Hush,’ said Wayland. ‘Here he comes.’

  Snorri planted himself in front of Vallon. ‘Cap’n, I been thinkin’ about it all ways round and I ain’t voyaging to Iceland. Six years I been cast away, every day dreaming of home. I’ll tell ye what I’ll do. I’ll take ye to the Orkney Isles for twenty pounds. Those are Norwegian islands, cap’n, lying a titty bit off Scotland’s north coast. Ye can charter an Iceland-bound ship there.’

  ‘How many days’ sailing?’

  ‘Depends on the wind. A week at least, and the same again afore ye reach the Iceland shore.’

  ‘Twenty pounds for a week’s passage? You’re already getting twelve to repair the ship. I’ll pay you another five.’

  ‘No, no. She’s my ship and I set the fare.’

  ‘You’ll not find any other passengers for that broken-down old scow.’

  ‘Aye, and ye’ll not find another ship. Ye’re in no position to bargain.’

  ‘I’m not bargaining. Your ship is our only way out and I won’t let your money-grubbing stand in our way.’

  ‘Knock him on the head and drop him in the bog,’ said Raul.

  ‘Hold ye hard. I didn’t say I ain’t open to negotiation. What do ye say to fifteen pound?’

  Vallon didn’t answer.

  ‘Twelve?’

  ‘Seven, and I’ll throw in the crew’s wages. That’s my last word.’

  Snorri’s face writhed. ‘’Tis a hard bargain ye drive. How many of ye be sailors?’

  Only Raul raised a hand.

  ‘Is that all? There ain’t no deep-water sailors hereabouts.’

  ‘You’re the ship’s master. Finding a crew’s your job.’

  ‘Mebbe I could take on a few men up Humberside. It’s the getting yonder that vexes me.’

  ‘We’ll manage. Wayland’s strong and clever with his hands. I’m not too proud to dirty mine. We’ll find tasks for Richard and Hero.’

  Snorri shuffled his feet. He rubbed his palms. ‘Well, gentlemens, seeing as it’s an early start, I think I’ll lay me head down.’ He went off to his shelter.

  ‘There’s a bounty on us,’ Richard said. ‘Do you trust him?’

  ‘No, but I think his treachery will take longer in the hatching. Raul, go with him as far as the coast and stand lookout. You and Wayland will take turns keeping watch.’

  With the onset of night, it had grown chilly. A keen easterly rattled the reeds. Raul placed another piece of driftwood on the fire. The company watched the flames flatten and twist in the wind. Hero gave a shiver that had nothing to do with the cold.

  ‘Someone walk over your grave?’

  ‘I was thinking about the voyage. Days and days out of sight of land.’

  Raul gnawed on a bone. ‘It ain’t too bad once you get over the puking.’

  Vallon stirred the fire with a stick. Sparks flew down the wind. ‘Where did you do your sailing?’

  ‘On a Baltic slaver.’

  ‘Did you ever land in Rus?’

  ‘We raided the coast a few times. It’s a heathen race dwells on that shore. Skin you alive if they get a chance.’

  Richard straightened up in indignation. ‘Heathens or not, slaving’s an unholy occupation.’

  Raul looked up from under half-lidded eyes. ‘Maybe, but it pays well.’ He waved the bone in Vallon’s direction. ‘Speaking of which, you ain’t said what wages we’re drawing.’

  ‘We’ll have to husband the money if we’re going to charter another ship and buy trade goods.’ Vallon saw Raul’s face cloud. ‘Whatever profit we make, you and Wayland will receive a tenth.’

  Raul choked on his food. ‘You’re saying you’ll give me and Wayland a tenth.’

  ‘Each. Since you’re sharing the risks, you deserve a fair share of the rewards.’

  Raul pulled an astonished face at Wayland.

  ‘How come you gave it up?’ the falconer asked him.

  ‘Gave what up?’

  ‘Slaving.’

  Raul tossed the bone into the fire. ‘I was shipwrecked. That’s how come.’

  Snorri left at dawn, saying he’d be back within three days. Vallon and Hero began cutting withies and rushes for lean-to’s, while Wayland started scything the reeds along the channel. Mid-morning, four fen men rowed to the island towing two boats loaded with water kegs and firewood. The men climbed out carrying spades, billhooks and mattocks. They grinned shyly, not quite meeting anyone’s eye, and seemed undismayed by the backbreaking task Vallon set them.

  At noon Wayland took one of the spare boats and set off through the marsh to relieve Raul. He found the German whittling a knife handle in the marram grass by the creek.

  Wayland shared out bread and cheese. Raul peeled an onion and ate it as if it were an apple. The first swallows were back, cutting tangents across the water. A column of cormorants straggled north against a cloudbank massed on the horizon. The wind blew fresh from the east but the clouds never came any nearer.

  ‘Iceland,’ Raul said. ‘Long way to go for a few falcons.’

  ‘White ones that only kings and emperors are allowed to fly.’

  ‘I’ll believe it when I see one.’

  Raul raised his crossbow and took casual aim at a seal basking in the shallows. Wayland put a hand on the bow. Raul lowered the weapon. ‘If you make it to Miklagard, what will you do with your share?’

  Wayland shrugged. Wealth meant nothing to him. In the forest his family had lived as well as any lord. Everything they needed could be had for free or obtained by barter.

  ‘You could do worse than join the Varangians, like Vallon.’

  ‘Varangians?’

  ‘Imperial guard. Used to be all Vikings, but since the Normans invaded, a lot of Englishmen have taken service with them. Not just common folk. There’s thanes and even an earl or two. Once you’ve served your time, the emperor gives you a decent holding of land.’

  ‘Is that what you intend to do?’

  ‘Not me. I’ve done enough warring. I’ve got it all worked out. I’m going
to open a tavern, take a wife — maybe a slave girl from Rus. I’ll buy my family out of bondage and set them up with land and herring boats.’

  ‘How many close kin do you have?’

  ‘Father died in the flood that took our farm. Mother lived only a few months longer. When I left home, I had three younger brothers and three older sisters. That was eight years ago, so I suppose a few will have gone to their graves. I can’t wait to see their faces when I show up. What a feast I’ll throw.’

  Wayland had heard Raul’s fantasies before and knew he’d piss them away.

  ‘You ain’t never told me about your own family.’

  ‘Some other time,’ Wayland said. He looked down the empty curve of coastline. He could make out the sails of two fishing boats heading in for Lynn.

  ‘There’s just one thing bothers me,’ Raul said.

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘The captain. It would be a week’s work to know what he’s thinking, but I can tell you he ain’t on this frolic for the profits. If he was, he wouldn’t be so generous to the likes of you and me. Most commanders I served under, you were lucky to see any silver except what you got by plunder.’

  ‘So what’s your complaint?’

  ‘If I’m going to follow a man God knows where, I like to know why he’s going there.’

  A flock of waders alighted at the waterline. They ran forward in little spurts, their legs flickering like the spokes of a wheel.

  ‘You must have noticed how Vallon don’t sleep easy,’ Raul said. ‘Tossing and turning like a goblin was riding on his shoulders.’

  ‘I don’t sleep easy thinking about what the Normans would do to us.’

  ‘That’s another thing. Vallon’s an outlaw twice over — in France as well as England. I heard Hero telling Richard about it.’

  ‘What was his crime?’

  ‘Don’t know, but it must have been grievous to drive him this far from home.’

  The waders sprang into the air with piping cries. Wayland watched them fly off.

  Raul stood and shouldered his crossbow. ‘All I’m saying is, the goblin that’s riding Vallon is steering all of us.’

  Wayland made his way down the strand. A V-shaped ripple heading for shore caught his attention. An otter landed, shook its fur into spikes and sat up, clasping a fish. Wayland approached to within twenty feet before it saw him and dived back. He picked up the fish — an ugly, lop-sided creature that reminded him of Snorri. The otter surfaced and watched him, only its black eyes and whiskery muzzle showing. Wayland lobbed the fish but the otter was gone before it hit the water.