‘Oh,’ she cried. ‘The dog’s hurt.’
The dog licked her once, its attention fixed on the empty street behind them. The storm growled far to the north. She looked up at Wayland.
‘It’s not right that he doesn’t have a name.’
‘You choose one.’
‘Really?’
‘Really.’
XX
Lachlan’s ship had left harbour by the time the company was up. They went on with their business. Vallon hired a pilot to steer them to Orkney, overriding Snorri’s furious protests. It was the governor who’d insisted that they engage a navigator familiar with the treacherous currents around the islands. David was the pilot’s name — a dark and melancholy Pict who spoke English and Norse, having plied his trade at every port between Lowestoft and the Faroes. The governor also gave them introductions to local traders. By the third day following the dogfight, the hold was half full with their purchases. As well as timber, Shearwater was carrying malt, salt, a ton of pig iron and dozens of clay cooking vessels.
That evening the governor’s French-speaking secretary called at the lodgings and asked for a private audience. Vallon took him up to his room and closed the door. The emissary refused the offer of refreshments and remained standing.
‘This afternoon,’ he said, ‘information arrived from the king’s seat in Edinburgh concerning a gang of outlaws who, having wreaked havoc in England, fled by ship to Scotland. Since the King wishes to maintain cordial relations with his neighbour, he’s sent orders to his governors that they detain all arrivals from the south. If there’s any suspicion that they match the description of the felons, they’re to be transported to the capital for interrogation, pending their despatch into Norman custody.’
Vallon crossed to the casement and looked down at the empty quayside. ‘What do they look like?’
‘Their leader is a Frankish mercenary who commands a crew drawn from several countries. There’s even a Norman traitor with them. And a savage dog of uncommon size.’
Vallon turned. ‘Not easily overlooked.’
‘No. It so happens that the governor was called away on business before the letters arrived and therefore wasn’t able to give the matter his immediate attention. He won’t be back until morning when, of course, he’ll attend to the King’s commands with all the urgency that they deserve.’
Vallon clicked his tongue. ‘What a pity I won’t be able to say farewell to his Excellency and thank him for all his kindness. You see, we’ve concluded our dealings here and will be sailing tonight. Only our personal effects have to be loaded.’
The secretary nodded and went to the door. He paused with one hand on the latch. ‘The weather is set fair from the south. Two days’ sailing should carry you beyond the King’s writ. If I were you, I wouldn’t land before then.’
They exchanged bows and the secretary left. Vallon waited at the window until his footsteps died away on the cobbles, then hurried to the top of the stairs. ‘Raul! Wayland! All of you! Look lively! We’re sailing tonight!’
When the governor’s men-at-arms marched down the quay early next morning, they found the hostel deserted and Shearwater’s berth empty. Fingers fanned against the rising sun, the commander of the militia could just make out a fleck of sail bearing north.
Back at sea, the company spent the day re-establishing routines. A week ashore had restored their vigour and put them in good heart for the journey ahead. They were handy at their duties now, willing team members who were also confident enough to act on their own initiative. Watching Garrick lash the end of a shroud around a cleat, Vallon found it hard to believe that less than a month ago he’d never set foot on a ship. All in all, Vallon was content. April had given way to the lingering twilights of May. Shearwater was covering eighty miles a day. By this time tomorrow they’d be beyond Drogo’s reach.
Only one cloud darkened the outlook. Everyone was aware of it, but no one drew attention to it until the next evening, when Hero and Richard approached Vallon as he stood at the bow in an ocean reverie. They were nervous, neither wanting to be the first to speak. Richard held a bundle of documents. Vallon invited them to sit.
‘I see you’ve spent the day bringing our accounts up to date. How do they stand?’
‘After all our expenses, we’re left with little more than sixty pounds. I can itemise the outgoings if you want.’
‘No need,’ said Vallon. Sixty pounds was less than he’d expected. ‘How much do you think our cargo will fetch in Iceland?’
‘I’m sure we’ll make a profit in kind.’
‘That’s the problem,’ Hero said. ‘The Icelanders don’t deal in specie. We won’t be able to sell for silver until we reach Norway or Rus. Before then, we might have emptied our exchequer. We’ll have to hire a ship for the crossing to Iceland, and then charter another vessel to take us south. Raul thinks we’ll be lucky to find a captain willing to take us on either voyage for less than thirty pounds. There’s our money gone on transport alone.’
Syth was cooking on the stern deck and savoury smells reached Vallon. ‘I know you wouldn’t have brought the problem to me if you hadn’t thought of a solution.’
Hero glanced at Richard. ‘We were sure you’d anticipated it yourself when you took on David.’
Vallon pretended not to understand. ‘I hired David to pilot us only as far as Orkney.’
Another look passed between the youths. ‘He’d be willing to stay until we reach the Faroes,’ Hero said. ‘With David navigating, we can give Orkney a miss.’
Vallon dropped his pretence. ‘You’re suggesting we steal Snorri’s ship.’
Richard’s birthmark coloured. ‘Unless we hang on to Shearwater, we’ll run out of money before completing our journey.’
‘Where does that leave Snorri?’
Hero moved closer. ‘Put him ashore with what’s due to him. Pay him compensation if you wish. Twenty pounds would give him a comfortable start back in Norway.’
Vallon looked out to sea. They’d rounded the cape marking the northernmost point of the Scottish king’s dominion, and now they were beginning the long western passage towards Suther land and Caithness. ‘Our next landing will be in Norwegian territory. Drop Snorri among his own kind and he’d swear a suit against us for theft. Since Iceland is tied to Norway by blood and trade, he’d be able to pursue his case against us even there.’
Hero and Richard didn’t answer.
‘You think I should kill him.’
Richard ducked his head and blinked as if he had something in his eye. Hero spoke in an urgent whisper. ‘Wayland and Raul are sure that Snorri intends to double-cross us. When we were in harbour, Raul saw him talking to a Norwegian crew who sailed to Orkney a few days before we left. Raul says that the way the men looked him over made him feel like a goose ready for plucking.’
Vallon conned the ship. Snorri was at the tiller. Raul stood behind him whipping a rope’s end, one eye on the conference at the bow.
‘If we were to murder him, the crime would poison our enterprise. How would your consciences bear it? And David wouldn’t serve with men who’d killed the ship’s master.’
‘I don’t want anyone’s death on my conscience,’ said Richard. ‘We just thought you should hear our concerns.’
‘I share them and I think I have the remedy. It will be expensive, though. Wipe the guilty look off your faces and tell Snorri I want a word.’
Watching the Norwegian come forward, Vallon wondered if he had any inkling that his life hung in the balance. His manner had grown more confident, less ingratiating since they’d left St Andrews.
Vallon assumed a pleasant aspect and made small talk about the fine weather and sailing prospects, before getting down to business. ‘Do you still intend to end our partnership once we reach Orkney?’
‘Aye, my heart is set on returning home.’
‘Suppose I increased my original offer — one-third of everything we gain by trade. Generous terms by any measure.’
‘I can take on cargo of me own in Orkney. It’s the beginning of the sailing season. Ye’ll have no trouble finding a fresh charter in Kirkwall. I’ll find ye one meself.’
‘How much will it cost?’
‘Twenty pound.’
‘And another twenty to Norway.’
‘Aye. Thereabouts.’
Vallon mused on the sums. ‘I’ll tell you what. I’ll give you forty pounds to buy Shearwater outright. That’s in addition to the sum we already owe you. It will almost empty our chest of silver, but it will give us freedom of action. With fifty pounds in ready money, you’ll be able to buy a ship as good as Shearwater with silver to spare.’
Snorri had begun shaking his head before Vallon had finished. ‘I ain’t selling Shearwater fer any price.’
Vallon made his final throw. ‘All right. You won’t have to part with her. Agree to join us on the voyage and you’ll get the forty pounds — plus one-third of the profits, plus your ship back once we reach Rus. If that seems too good to be true, I’m happy to have the contract notarised in a court of your choosing. What do you say?’
Watching Snorri make his calculations, Vallon thought he’d hooked him. He wondered if he’d been too generous.
Snorri sneered. ‘Ye’re desperate, ain’t ye? Not so high and mighty now.’ He stamped his foot. ‘I say no to yer offer. Mebbe I’d’ve looked more kindly on it if ye hadn’t used me so ill, shown me more respect, kept yer word about the girl.’
‘Perhaps there’s another reason.’ Vallon raised up. ‘When we first met, I suspected that you planned to betray us. I hoped that time would sweeten your intentions, but it begins to look as if my fears were justified.’
The brand on Snorri’s forehead turned livid. He shook his good arm at Vallon. ‘I know what ye’re hatching. Ye mean to rob me of me ship. Well, ye won’t get away with it. I’ve sent messages to Orkney. If Shearwater arrives without me, ye’ll be arrested for piracy and manslaughter. However far ye run, the law will catch ye.’
‘It won’t be me who breaks our agreement,’ said Vallon. ‘Once you’ve brought us safe to Orkney and helped find us another ship, your obligation is discharged and I’ll pay you your due.’
‘Ye’d better.’ Snorri shuffled his feet, aware that Vallon hadn’t finished.
Vallon stared past him. ‘But if I come by proof that you don’t intend keeping your side of the bargain … ’ He smiled — the expression conveying the very opposite of a smile.
Another concern — at least for Wayland and Syth — was the dog. Its injuries were worse than had first appeared. On the third day it refused food and lay stretched on its side, breathing fast. Next morning its head was badly swollen, its eyes half shut and oozing matter. Hero prescribed a liquid diet and poultices of warm seawater. Vallon had little affection for the beast and privately wished it good riddance. Syth was distraught and spent all her free time nursing it, applying brine-soaked cloths to its head. When it showed no improvement, she dissolved a block of salt in boiling water. She let the solution cool just enough to be able to dip a hand in it, then Wayland held the dog down while she wrapped the hot cloth around the dog’s muzzle. The dog thrashed so violently that it dragged both minders along the deck. When the poultice cooled, Syth renewed it. She must have applied the cloth a dozen times before one of the puncture wounds in its muzzle burst and erupted a gout of pus together with one of Dormarth’s broken canines. Syth ran around showing off the tooth on the stained bandage as if it were a piece of the true cross.
A little later the dog rose as unsteadily as a newborn foal and licked at a bowl of bran moistened with broth. When they beached on the Caithness coast next evening, it was fully recovered and galloped splashing along the surf-line, putting wave after wave of gulls to flight. Syth ran behind it with her arms outstretched and Wayland jogged along wearing an embarrassed grin.
They tucked up overnight in the mouth of a river called Berriedale. David said that if the wind stayed in their favour, they would reach Wick next day and be in Orkney two days later. Vallon decided not to stop at Wick and ordered the crew to fill the water barrels. Waking early, he saw Wayland walking into camp with a deer slung over his shoulders. He’d risen before dawn and shot the buck in a wood upstream. The company gorged on venison and lingered late in the haven, wandering up the riverbank and bathing in amber-coloured pools under the leaning oaks. It was as if they knew that this was the last time they’d set foot on British shores.
Noon had passed before they struck out again, coasting under rugged cliffs where wild doves burst forth on clapping wings and veered overhead before diving back to their crags. Sooty birds no bigger than swallows flitted in Shearwater’s wake, pattering their feet across the surface as if too feeble to stay aloft.
‘Mother Carey’s chickens,’ said Raul. He saw that the phrase meant nothing to Vallon. ‘Mother Carey’s the queen of the sea. Sits on the bottom combing her long green hair with the rib bones of drowned mariners.’ Raul nodded towards the pilot who stood in the bow gazing at the headlands stepping away to the north. ‘David had three sons and the sea took them all every one. Two in a storm, the other in a fishing accident. Never found but one body and the crabs had done nothing to improve his appearance.’
Vallon didn’t answer. Raul steered him around so that Snorri couldn’t see their faces. ‘Captain, we got to act soon. Just slip me the nod. I’ll do it tonight. No one will see. In the morning Snorri will be gone and by nightfall everyone will have forgotten him.’
‘I’m not going to discount a man’s life on nothing more than suspicion.’
‘Captain, you know it’s stronger than that.’
‘We have to take on supplies in Orkney and we’ll be arrested if we land without Snorri. Do nothing without my orders.’ Vallon pushed past Raul to show that the discussion was ended.
Two days later, with the sun spearing through clouds, they launched across the strait between the mainland and the Orkney Isles. The sea kicked up into peaks. Random bits of the archipelago showed over the waves for a moment then sank from sight as Shearwater dipped into the next trough. David had timed the crossing to avoid the tides that poured through the passage. Even so, Shearwater lurched and skidded in the crosscurrents and overfalls. They skirted a whirlpool that David said was whipped up by a sea-witch grinding salt for the world’s oceans on a giant quern. A long island slid by to the east. Drab moorland broken by green pastures dotted with the occasional turf house. Stunted trees bent by the wind. Two boys bareback on a horse raced them to the ness at the end of the island and sat waving until they were gone from sight.
Shearwater sailed between headlands into a wide sea basin ringed by more islands. The largest filled the northern horizon. ‘Horse Island,’ Raul said. ‘Kirkwall lies on the other side. David says it’ll take us the rest of the day to work our way around.’
Vallon was dazed by the glare off the waves, the constant joggling. ‘I’m going to snatch some sleep.’
He curled up like a dog and drifted off to the cries of gulls. He woke muzzy-headed to find Shearwater threading a channel between two islands. A school of porpoises drilled through the waves. David and Raul stood at the bow, bright coronas forming behind them each time Shearwater took a crest. Vallon drank from a dipper and made his way forward.
Raul nodded at the island to port. ‘Nearly there. We’ve come round Horse Island. Kirkwall’s tucked down a bay the other end of this channel. Remember, Captain, once we land, Snorri will be the one calling the shots.’
‘We won’t enter harbour. Ask David to find an anchorage close to the port — an uninhabited island would be ideal.’
Vallon kept an eye on Snorri while Raul quizzed David.
Raul came back. ‘There’s a scrap of land a couple of miles north of the harbour. They used to put thieves and witches on it. Nothing there now except sheep.’
Vallon went to break the news to Snorri. ‘David knows an island where we can anchor overnight. I’m not putting into Ki
rkwall until I know what sort of reception we can expect. You can go ashore if you wish.’
‘Ye must think I’m a saphead. Soon as I step off, ye’ll make a run for it.’
‘Snorri, if I wanted to steal your ship, I wouldn’t have waited until we were under the eyes of your countrymen. Besides, David’s leaving us. We’d never find our way to Iceland without a pilot.’
A figure appeared atop a cliff on Horse Island. Vallon saw him turn and signal inland.
‘Thieves Holm,’ Raul called.
It was only a few acres of rough grass rising a few feet above high tide. As they neared it, the town of Kirkwall came into view at the head of a bay to the south. Vallon saw a church and a scattering of farms, a few ships moored in the harbour. Raul and Wayland began lowering the sail. Seals dragged themselves into the sea and a flock of feral sheep that had been feeding on seaweed stotted away. David dropped anchor and the company rowed ashore. Vallon stepped on to land to find that his feet wouldn’t work properly, groping at air instead of finding ground. He flopped down. The rest of the company gathered around him, leaving only Snorri on board.
Vallon watched him watching them. ‘Raul, I want David to go ashore with Snorri and follow him. See who he meets and whether he tries to find us a ship.’ Vallon felt inside his tunic and produced a purse. ‘That’s twice the fee we agreed.’
‘Sailboat heading out from Kirkwall,’ said Wayland.
Vallon watched it draw nearer. ‘Nine men on board. Too many to be fishermen.’
‘David reckons it’s the harbourmaster,’ Raul said.
‘Everyone back to the ship.’
‘What if they try to seize us?’ said Raul.
‘I think they’d have come in a bigger vessel. Have your weapons ready, but don’t show them unless I give the word.’
The boat crabbed across a back-eddy. All of its occupants were armed. In the bow stood an iron-jawed man with side-whiskers. David hailed him and he gaped in recognition.
Hawk Quest Page 28