‘We must protect the ship at all costs,’ said a voice beside him. ‘Lose it and we’re dead.’
Vallon glanced at Drogo’s shadowed form. ‘Ship or no ship, none of us will escape if we’re constantly looking over our shoulders in fear of each other.’
‘Agreed. A river of blood separates us, but I’ll delay making that crossing until we’ve dealt with the Vikings.’
‘You accept my command?’
Drogo hesitated. ‘If I agree with your decisions, I’ll back them.’
‘Not Helgi, though. He’ll try to thwart me at every turn.’
‘Issue your orders through me.’
Vallon’s eyes rested on Drogo before stealing downriver again. ‘What would your strategy be?’
‘Safeguard the ship but engage the Vikings on land. We have five horses where they have none. That’s worth a dozen men.’
It had been a long time since Vallon had talked tactics with a fellow professional. ‘We’ll leave the swordsmen on board and post archers on the banks. I don’t think the Vikings will press home an attack tonight. They’re weary and must be feeling star-crossed after losing men and seeing two prizes sink.’
Wayland came rowing back. ‘That’s all the women and old folk landed.’
‘Supplies next. When you’ve finished, muster the Icelandic bowmen and station yourselves at the edge of the forest.’
Raul and Garrick had rigged a derrick to hoist the horses out of the hold. Helgi and his men herded their own mounts over the side.
Vallon turned back to Drogo. ‘Are your ribs mended?’
‘I’ll fight if called upon.’
‘On the right side, I trust.’
Every man on board watched the bend downriver. Swirls of water welled up mysteriously and subsided back into blackness. The tide had ebbed, leaving Shearwater high and dry. Deep in the forest an owl gave a funereal hoot. Weapons chinked. Mosquitoes whined. Somewhere out in the river a big fish jumped.
‘What’s keeping them?’ Fulk muttered.
‘They’ll struggle against this current,’ said Drogo. ‘They might have stopped for the night.’
‘They won’t call a halt until they find us,’ said Vallon. ‘They’re searching every bolthole. Having forced us into a dead end, they’ll make sure we don’t escape.’
A mosquito bit his cheek. He raised his hand to swat it, then stopped, arrested by the eerie illumination unfolding in the northern sky. Down from the top of the heavens scrolled a gossamer curtain of pale green, its shifting drapes fringed with bands of purple. The folds undulated with a kind of beckoning motion, fading and returning.
‘What in God’s name is that?’
‘The northern aurora,’ said Hero. ‘The Icelanders say it’s the flames of Vulcan’s forge reflected in the sky.’
In this unearthly glow the longship made its entrance, stealing around the bend with its sail reflecting the ghostly fire, pinpoints of light winking at its oars. It drew nearer and someone shouted as he caught sight of Shearwater. The Vikings rowed closer, then held station, feathering their oars. Laughter and jeers carried across the water when the Vikings realised that the knarr was stranded. The pirate chief stood at the dragon prow and bellowed a lengthy challenge or ultimatum that made the Icelanders gabble with dread.
‘They know him by reputation,’ said Raul. ‘His name’s Thorfinn Wolfbreath, a pagan feared for his cruelty all along the Norwegian coast. He eats the livers of his opponents. Eats them raw on the battlefield to feed his valour.’
The warlord shouted again.
‘What’s he saying?’
‘Surrender the ship, our trade goods and our women, and he’ll leave us to God’s mercy. If we resist, he’ll cut the blood eagle on every man he takes alive.’
‘Blood eagle?’
‘A cruel torture. I saw it performed on a thief in Gotland. They tied him face down, hacked away his ribs close to the spine, then reached into his chest and pulled his lungs out through the back. The Icelanders say he’s a berserker, a warrior who can’t be defeated by mortal means. Swords can’t bite him and he can walk through fire without being burned. He can blunt a weapon just by looking at it.’
Vallon snorted.
‘You and me know it’s bollocks,’ said Raul. ‘But that’s what the Icelanders believe. If Thorfinn attacks us now, half of them will jump over the side.’
‘Remind him of your sting.’ Vallon turned. ‘Wayland, give them a volley.’
The bolt struck with a meaty thud. A flight of arrows whispered through the dark. Thorfinn laughed. Another volley of arrows swept overhead and a yelp of pain told Vallon that one of them had made a lucky hit. Thorfinn shouted. The longship began to fall back with the tide.
‘Wayland, follow them and mark where they put in. Keep watch on them. Take someone to report back.’
Footsteps ran into the dark. The aurora was fading. Faint pulses of the elusive light showed the longship drifting downriver. Slowly it disappeared around the bend.
‘They won’t be back tonight,’ said Drogo. ‘We’d better establish a camp.’
‘We’ll divide what’s left of the night into two watches, leaving six men on board for each shift. The rest might as well get some hot food into their bellies.’
Vallon posted pickets around the camp. He doubted that Thorfinn would mount a night assault across unfamiliar terrain. But then, he told Drogo, if he were in the Vikings’ place, he would do what was least expected.
Drogo shook his head. ‘They’ll recruit themselves before attacking.’
They were sitting beside a crackling fire, devouring steaks cut from the horse Garrick had killed.
Vallon wiped his greasy fingers, placed his hands on his knees and levered himself up. ‘I need to consult Hero.’
He found him helping to pitch shelters. ‘Have you calculated our position?’
‘I’ve taken a dozen sightings. Even the most optimistic puts us six hundred miles north of our starting point. That means a journey of a thousand miles before we reach the Baltic. We don’t have enough food. Our own supplies won’t last another week and the Icelanders have none to spare. One of the sailing masters told me that we won’t be able to buy or barter fresh supplies within two weeks’ sail.’
‘There’ll be game to hunt, fish to catch. The forest must be full of berries.’
Vallon became aware of Richard. He was sitting next to Hero with his knees drawn up to his chin.
Vallon dropped to a crouch. ‘Don’t worry about Drogo.’
Richard hugged his knees tighter.
Vallon took his arm. ‘Would you have had me condemn the Icelanders to death? I couldn’t take them and leave Drogo.’
‘Why not? It’s no more than he would have done to me.’
‘Why would he want to harm you?’
It all came spilling out. ‘He blames me for the death of our mother. And what warps his mind even more is the fact that Lady Margaret has no affection for him. She has no love for anyone apart from her precious Walter. As a child, I saw how she spurned Drogo when he tried to court her attention. I never even tried. I learned early on that cuffs and insults were all I’d receive from that lot. I thought I’d escaped them, found friends who cared for me. Yet though I’ve travelled to the end of the world, it seems that I can’t shake Drogo off.’
‘We do care for you. We’re your family now. Hero and Wayland and all the other steadfast souls who’ve shared our voyage. I won’t let Drogo harm you, I promise.’
Vallon rose and made his way to the fire, stepping around slumbering bodies. He stretched out, burdened with worries. No sooner had he laid his head down than Raul was shaking him awake.
‘Syth’s back.’
Vallon blundered up. The fire had died to coals and clouds fogged the moon. He’d slept for longer than he’d intended. Syth crouched panting by the fire. He hunkered down beside her. ‘Did you find their lair?’
She accepted a piece of meat from Raul and sank her teeth into it. �
�They’re in a bay below the crook in the river. On this side, less than two miles from here.’
Vallon glanced towards the river. Mist lapped against the shore. He checked the position of the moon, then turned to Drogo. ‘We’d better take a look before it grows light.’
Syth gave some of the meat to the dog. It stretched its jaws wide and closed its teeth on the offering with a grip that wouldn’t have pricked a bubble, then it growled at the men and slunk off. ‘You’ll need the dog to find Wayland and avoid the Vikings. Four of them landed and hurried back this way. They’re watching us.’
Helgi insisted on accompanying the patrol. Vallon took Garrick along to relieve Wayland. The dog led them into the forest by a roundabout route, baring its teeth at a rise over to their left to indicate where the Viking spies had posted themselves. Even with the clouded moon to light the way, the party found it tough going across fallen trees and rank heather and boggy hollows.
Helgi stumbled into a hole. ‘The girl said two miles. We must have come twice that distance.’
‘Not so loud,’ Vallon whispered. ‘The Vikings will have posted sentries. The dog’s leading us around them.’
He sighted on the declining moon. A lifting of the dark showed east where he thought west should be. The dog was sitting down in front of him. It turned and looked at him, then rose and trotted on.
Vallon caught his first glimpse of the river since leaving camp. Then it had been to his left. Now it was below him to the right. The dog must be leading them back upriver. They hurried on and climbed a hill. Below was the river again and a bay swathed in mist. The dog had disappeared and so had the moon. Vallon smelled wood smoke. He turned in a circle.
‘Over here.’
Wayland lay couched under a spruce tree, completely hidden by branches that draped across the ground like a skirt. Vallon and the others pushed in beside him. Garrick handed him food and a leather water bottle. Wayland gulped thirstily.
‘Are they in the bay?’
Wayland nodded, still drinking. He put the bottle down and gasped. ‘There are sentries on the next ridge. I thought it wise to hide downriver where they wouldn’t think to look.’ He lifted the bottle and drank again.
Now the lie of the land made sense to Vallon.
‘How many of them are left?’ Drogo demanded.
Vallon saw Wayland’s eyes turn in his direction. ‘You can answer,’ he said. ‘For the moment, we’re allies.’
‘It was too dark to count them,’ said Wayland. He touched Vallon’s sleeve. ‘Sir, I’m anxious about the falcons. I didn’t feed them yesterday and they’ll go hungry again if I don’t find food today. I know the peril we’re in, but you mustn’t lose sight of what brought us north. If we escape the pirates but the falcons starve, I won’t count it a triumph.’
‘There’s plenty of fresh horseflesh.’
‘I don’t know if falcons can stomach such coarse fare.’
Dawn was stealing over the forest. Vallon wriggled closer. ‘I can’t spare you or your dog to go hunting. You’re our eyes and ears. We have to float Shearwater and make her sound before the day is out. If the Vikings make a move and Garrick has to get news to us, it’s vital that he doesn’t blunder into one of their lookouts. Leave the dog with him and return with us. Use the day to tend your falcons and rest. I want you back here tonight.’
They waited. The sky brightened. Wayland fell asleep. His dog’s forelegs twitched in a dream.
A thin stylus of smoke rose from the vapours hiding the bay. Vallon heard occasional voices and mechanical sounds. A weak yellow sun began to lift clear of the forest and the mist on the river dispersed, revealing the longship moored at the head of the bay. Inside, roped together at the stern, were the surviving Icelanders from the captured knarr — six men and two women. The Vikings had taken down the torn sail and eleven of them sat mending its edges, squatting like a convention of tailors. Two more were chopping firewood and another was stirring a cooking pot slung from a trivet. One of them sat on his own with a bloodstained bandage around his arm. Their chieftain went among them with a curious loping gait. He wore a wolfskin cape over a short-sleeved leather jerkin that exposed massive arms covered with tattoos from wrist to elbow. He was even bigger than Vallon remembered, standing a head above the next tallest man in his company.
Sixteen Vikings in the camp, four upriver, and probably as many again on guard around the camp. Vallon tallied with his fingers and came up with a total of twenty-four — five more than his own motley force.
The cook called out and the pirates laid down their work and wandered over to the fire.
‘They’re not in any hurry,’ said Drogo.
‘They’ll repair their sail before coming after us,’ said Vallon.
‘They don’t need it if they attack before evening. Thorfinn must know that we can’t float Shearwater before the next high tide.’
‘We’d see an assault from the river before they could press it home. I think they’ll come by land and fall on us from several directions.’
‘A night attack?’
Vallon tried to put himself in Thorfinn’s place. ‘My guess is that they’ll hit us at first light tomorrow.’
‘That gives us time to fortify the camp.’
A vague plan was beginning to take shape in Vallon’s mind. ‘We won’t be waiting for them at the camp.’
On their way back the sky dissolved into smudgy grey clouds. A wandering drizzle fell. Raul greeted Vallon with a long face.
‘Come and see for yourself.’
Shearwater rested bow up on the shoal, the rocks that had stranded her poking above the current. Vallon climbed aboard. They’d offloaded the cargo and a substantial amount of ballast. Raul had fixed a temporary patch of tarred sailcloth over the gash.
‘I expected worse,’ Vallon said.
‘Look at the rib and crossbeam behind the hole.’
Vallon saw that the collision had jarred the heavy oak members out of position, ripping out the trenails that attached them to the strakes.
‘We can’t put to sea in that condition,’ Raul said. ‘We’d fold up in the first big wave.’
‘How long to repair it?’
‘Two, three days.’
Vallon surveyed the camp. It looked vulnerable by daylight, overlooked on both sides by tree-covered bluffs. The riverbanks were grey mud spiked with dead branches. The rain showed no sign of letting up and the Icelanders sat staring bleakly out from under rickety awnings piled with their chattels. Vallon remembered Hero’s warning about the shortage of food. He pushed the worry aside. Deal with the Vikings first. That provoked a fresh concern. Under clear skies and a moon, the pirates probably wouldn’t risk attacking from the river. But if this murk lasted into the night, they could creep right up to the bank without being spotted. They might attack by land and by ship. The camp would be empty, but Shearwater would be there for the taking.
‘I want the ship moved to another mooring after dark. Can you patch her in time?’
‘We’ll try our hardest. We’ll have to beach her to let in new planks. If the Vikings come while she’s out of the water …’
‘Garrick’s watching them. He’ll give us plenty of warning.’
‘Captain, I don’t know what you’re planning, but I don’t see how we can defeat them. There are too many. Even if we killed half of them, they’d still have their ship. All they have to do is wait downriver until we try to break out.’
‘I know,’ said Vallon. ‘If only we could destroy the longship … ’ He broke off. ‘Why not?’
Raul’s head whipped round. ‘You don’t mean it.’
‘They won’t be expecting it.’
‘Because they know it would be suicide.’
‘Not if you attack while most of them are marching on our camp.’
‘Me?’
‘I’d do it myself if I wasn’t needed elsewhere.’ Vallon glanced at the cloud-heavy horizons. ‘Everything depends on the weather. We’ll hold a council afte
r sunset.’
He ordered the Icelanders to throw up defensive positions that he had no intention of using. While they were chopping down trees and sharpening stakes, the tide reached full. With so much weight removed, Raul and his team floated Shearwater off the shoal without much effort. They harnessed four horses to the stem, dragged her onto the foreshore and set about repairing the hole. Vallon went in search of Wayland. The falconer lay sleeping on a bed of pine needles beside the caged hawks. Syth told Vallon through yawns that the falcons had eaten the horseflesh and showed no ill effects.
Next he sought out Hero. He found him talking to Father Hilbert. Vallon asked for a word and led Hero away a little distance.
‘Do you know the secret of Greek Fire?’
Hero smiled as if he’d been expecting the question. ‘Only the Byzantine rulers and a few senior engineers are trusted with the formula. I can guess some of the ingredients. Naphtha for one. Pitch. Sulphur. But as for the constituent that makes it light spontaneously and burn on water … Does this have something to do with the Viking ship?’
‘Yes, it does. A ship isn’t as simple to fire as you might think. I need a substance that burns greedily and isn’t easily quenched.’
Hero looked towards the stores. ‘We have plenty of whale oil and sulphur, plus some turpentine. I could experiment with them.’
Vallon glanced at the surrounding heights. ‘Be careful not to give away your intentions. The enemy is watching.’
Returning to check on progress at the ship, Vallon met Caitlin and her maids leading two horses laden with firewood. He nodded to her. She flinched and hurried on, throwing a quick look over her shoulder. Seeing him still watching her, she stamped one foot and went on at an even faster pace.
‘Madam. One moment if you please.’
She stopped.
He strolled forward. ‘You’d be captive or dead if I hadn’t rescued you. A word of acknowledgement wouldn’t go amiss.’
Slowly she turned. ‘I cannot understand your language.’
‘You understood me well enough to save me from your brother’s cowardly treachery. I suppose I owe you thanks for that.’
Hawk Quest Page 41