Viking Gold

by V. Campbell

  Redknee watched through a crack in the door as Thora prepared a hot poultice for Harold’s back. He was in a bad way. He had not coped well with the lashing and had developed a fever. Redknee suspected it was a fever of pride. Olaf, worried his son wouldn’t last the night, maintained a vigil at his bedside.

  Thora left the longhouse. As she passed Redknee, he whispered, “Will Harold live?”

  Thora glanced behind her, into the half-lit room. “I hope so. If he dies, you will have made an enemy of Olaf for life.”

  “Aye,” Redknee said, “and if Harold lives, I fear I will have made two.”

  Thora nodded and left. Redknee turned to follow her, he needed to find Sinead, reassure himself she wasn’t the traitor, when he heard Olaf start to speak.

  “You did well, son,” he said, stroking Harold’s damp brow. “Took the lashings like a man, just as I knew you would.”

  “I tried my best, father,” Harold mumbled. “Did I do good?”

  Olaf nodded and took his son’s hand in his. “Yes,” he said. “You did just as I told you.”

  At that moment, Bleyõra sidled up to Redknee and began purring at the door. Olaf and Harold both looked up. Redknee pressed his body flat against the wall and edged away.

  Redknee learned from Koll that Brother Alfred had gone into the foothills of the volcano to thank his God for his release and Sinead had gone with him. He wanted to speak to her before his uncle did; reassure himself she wasn’t the traitor. He thought of the gash in Karl’s throat. Could a woman, nay, one little more than a girl, really do that? Uncle Sven seemed to think so – if the conditions were right. Karl had been drunk, that was true. Whoever killed him had caught him while he was off guard. Maybe, under those circumstances, a woman really could kill a full-grown man.

  But Sinead?

  He shook his head. She’d helped him out of the fire at Ivar’s longhouse. Hadn’t she? A little voice at the back of his head told him she’d been looking for the book – saving him was only an afterthought.

  No. He wouldn’t believe it. No matter what his uncle thought, Sinead was his friend. Surely he could trust her. Couldn’t he?

  Chapter 16

  As he walked up the lower slopes of Mount Hekla, Redknee cursed whatever madness had driven Brother Alfred to thank his God in such a place. What greenery there had once been was long dead – the skeletons of water-starved shrubs and grasses littered the edges of the path. The brittle black earth burned hot beneath his feet. It was like walking on the embers of a dying fire. Above him, flares of hot orange lit the night sky. He wrapped his cloak round his head, fearful a stray flash would fry him alive.

  Silver whimpered.

  “You’re right, little one,” Redknee said, “venturing up here is exactly what my uncle would call downright foolish.”

  Redknee found them praying. Two small figures kneeling before a wooden cross. Silver bounded forwards, licking Sinead’s face until she opened her eyes and gave him a hug.

  “Karl the Woodcutter has been found dead,” Redknee said. “His throat cut.”

  Brother Alfred shook his head. “Well, don’t look at me. I was tied up in the barn.”

  “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. You see, my uncle thinks there’s a traitor among us. Someone who is working for Ragnar. My uncle thinks this person murdered Karl.”

  “That is most terrible,” Brother Alfred said, frowning. “I will pray for Karl’s soul, certainly I will, even though he was a pagan. But I fail to see how this connects to me.”

  “Sinead and I, before we spoke to you in the barn, we overheard,” he glanced awkwardly at Sinead. She nodded for him to continue. “We overheard my uncle asking if you knew who the traitor was. You didn’t answer. But if you do know, no matter who you were protecting, you must tell me now because my uncle thinks it is Sinead.”

  Sinead let out an involuntary gasp. “It was your uncle in the barn?” she said, covering her mouth with her hand.

  Redknee nodded.

  “Oh, I will hang for this if the real murderer cannot be found!”

  “Stay calm,” Redknee said, placing his hand on her shoulder. “I believe you didn’t do it. Brother Alfred can repay the service you have done him.”

  Brother Alfred shook his head. His face had turned pale.

  “I wish I could help you, child,” he said, looking at Sinead. “I truly do. But I don’t know what your friend is talking about. You see, it wasn’t me Sven Kodranson was questioning in the barn, but the other prisoner. The big pagan one with teeth like coals, Toki, I think his name is.”

  As Redknee digested this new information, a burning rock flew from the mouth of the volcano landing with a hiss close to where they stood. Silver leapt sideways with a yelp.

  “We can’t stay here,” Redknee said, tugging Sinead’s sleeve as a second flaming rock crashed into the earth, this one shattering in a spray of orange sparks. He turned to Brother Alfred. “We must go now.”

  Brother Alfred shrugged him off. “You go and see to this Toki, I have not finished the litany. God has kept me safe today. He will continue to keep me safe while I pray.”

  Another rock landed next to them, the dry grass at their feet crackled before erupting in flames. Brother Alfred looked surprised but remained kneeling.

  “Sinead?” Redknee grabbed her hand as the grass fire began to spread. “Don’t be foolish. Come with me now.”

  As Sinead hesitated, a rock struck her head, knocking her to the ground. Like a ravenous beast, the fire closed round her, trapping her in its jaws. Redknee pulled his cloak over his head, leapt through the flames and lifted her across his shoulder. The fire was already hot, and getting hotter. Sweat trickled down his spine as he looked for an opening. There were no gaps.

  “You have to jump!” Brother Alfred had stopped his praying. About bloody time, Redknee thought.

  Taking a deep breath and closing his eyes, he ran at the flames as fast as he could. Heat scoured his body, then cool air hit his lungs; he fell to the ground and rolled in the mud. He came to a stop. Sinead’s dress was singed at the edges, but she was otherwise unharmed. He shook her gently while Silver and Brother Alfred looked on.

  As Sinead stirred, her hand shot to the cut on her forehead. Blood smeared her fingertips. “What happened?” she asked groggily.

  “A flying rock from the volcano hit you. But I think you won.”

  A smile flashed across Sinead’s face, but it was short-lived. The fire had gathered pace now, fed by a hundred smaller blazes and a new burst of flying rocks. Redknee pulled her to her feet. She staggered a few steps before collapsing against him.

  “Come on,” he said, tugging hard. “We have to race the fire. Think you’re up to it?”

  She nodded cautiously. Silver yapped encouragement.

  Redknee turned to Brother Alfred. “Your God has given up for the day,” he said.

  The little monk winced, but he followed Redknee all the same.

  The four of them tore down the mountain pursued by a twisting knot of flame. By the time they reached Reykjavik, the volcano’s caldera had burst and sheets of scalding ash were falling thick and fast. The longhouses nearest the mountain were ablaze. A group of men were trying to douse the flames. Redknee ran up to a young man carrying a wooden pail and tried to tell him it was pointless, that they must leave. The young man shrugged him off. It was the swineherd from the first day on the island.

  The town was in chaos. People running everywhere. Some huddled under blankets, trying to avoid the falling ash. Others just stood there, staring at the sky. He held his scarf over his mouth. They would all suffocate if they didn’t get out fast. He turned to Sinead. Her eyes were wide with fear.

  “We must get to Wavedancer,” he said. “And quick, there won’t be enough boats for everyone.”

  Astrid stood outside her longhouse, her silk dress smeared black. She was with a group of her warriors. They stood in a circle round a young woman. The woman’s hair had been shaved off s
o her head looked strangely deformed. One of the men pushed the woman to her knees and held her still.

  Astrid stepped into the middle of the circle and raised her hands aloft. The breeze whipped her golden hair about her face as she turned to face Mount Hekla.

  “Frey, god of farming, protector of Iceland, as a sign of our loyalty, we give you this sacrifice.”

  Sinead gasped. “They’re going to kill her!”

  Suddenly Redknee knew what Astrid meant by keeping Frey satisfied.

  “Oh dear, oh dear,” Brother Alfred said, “this won’t do.” He knelt and started to pray.

  “Stand up, you fool,” Redknee said. “You’re as bad as them. We need action, not more praying.”

  Redknee charged forward as the warrior holding the girl drew his dagger. He didn’t see Redknee’s fist. The blow, delivered square on the chin, sent the man flying into the mud. As he hit the ground with a squelch, Redknee heard twenty swords drawn in unison. He froze. He hadn’t exactly thought of an exit strategy.

  “What are you doing?” Astrid asked, her voice high and panicky. “We must pacify Frey or the whole island will be devoured by his wrath.”

  “You think slaughtering this girl will help?” Redknee asked.

  “The sacrifice of a slave has always worked in the past. What else would you suggest? Dousing the lava with buckets of water?”

  Redknee shook his head. “We must leave,” he said.

  Astrid laughed. “There aren’t enough boats for even half the people of Reykjavik.”

  Sinead stepped forward. “We’re wasting time. We must go.”

  “Listen to the slave girl,” Astrid said, “before I sacrifice her instead.”

  “This is stupid,” Redknee said. “There’s space on Wavedancer for you, your men, and many more besides.”

  Astrid shook her head. “We will stay and make the sacrifice. It will pacify Frey. Anyone who leaves, I shall regard as a traitor.”

  “You’re sentencing these people to death if you force them to remain,” Redknee said.

  One of Astrid’s men stepped forward, his face white. “If there’s a space for us,” he said trembling, “we should take it. Save our sacrifice for when we really need Frey’s protection.”

  Suddenly the rest of the men were agreeing.

  Redknee sighed with relief. He wasn’t going to be cut to pieces just yet.

  Most of the longhouses were on fire now. Astrid looked around her and then at the cowering slave girl. A scowl of disappointment marred Astrid’s pretty features. “Very well, then,” she said. “To the beach!”

  The warriors began running through the town towards the harbour. Redknee pulled the slave girl to her feet. She had no more than thirteen summers to her pitiful frame. “You’re free to go,” he said.

  The girl stared at him with terror in her eyes. She seemed not to comprehend. Then Sinead spoke to her in a strange, lilting tongue. The girl nodded and started running towards the beach. Redknee stared at Sinead.

  “She speaks the Irish,” Sinead said, shrugging.

  Redknee turned to Brother Alfred. “You must take Sinead and Silver to Wavedancer.”

  “Oh, yes,” Brother Alfred said, springing to life. He took Sinead by the elbow and began leading her towards the beach.

  “Are you coming too?” she called over her shoulder.

  “I’ll be right behind you. There’s one thing I must do first.” He turned and started across the yard towards the barn. Silver followed him.

  “No – you go with Sinead.” He spoke sternly.

  The pup glanced towards Brother Alfred’s retreating figure.

  Redknee sighed. “I need you to look after her.”

  Silver hesitated, gold eyes wide, before darting off, quickly catching up with the mis-matched pair.

  The barn sat on a small hill behind the longhouses. The fire had not reached it yet, if he was quick, he could make it there and back in time.

  The barn was hot and dark inside. Redknee peered through the smoke. He heard a cough. Toki was still in there. He kept his head low where the smoke was thinnest and found Toki tied to the pillar where he’d left him the night before.

  “Waste of time,” The big man said when he saw Redknee.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Coming back to kill me.”

  “Don’t worry. You’re not so lucky. I’m here to speak to you.”

  “Really? You mean I have my uses. What’s in it for me?”

  “If I like what you say, I’ll release you. If I believe what you say, I might let you come on Wavedancer.”

  “So sure your uncle hasn’t already left.”

  Redknee shrugged. “You should trust me. I’m the only chance you’ve got.”

  “All right. What do you want to know?”

  “I heard my uncle questioning you last night.”

  Toki nodded slowly. “Coward gave me this.” He tilted his head so Redknee could see his bloody lip.

  Redknee winced. He didn’t like to think of his uncle dealing out brutality. “So you didn’t answer his questions?”

  Toki shook his head. “Matter of fact, I thought you were Sven, back to put an end to me.”

  “Why would my uncle want to kill you? Apart from you being one of Ragnar’s lackeys.”

  “’Cause of what I know.”

  “Go on.”

  “You Erik Kodranson’s boy?”

  Redknee nodded.

  “I knew your father.”

  “You lie.”

  “It’s true. I knew both your parents. I grew up with your mother as a guest in her father’s house. She was a good friend.”

  “And yet you attacked me – and my mother too.”

  Toki shook his head. “If I’d wanted to kill you, or your mother, I would have succeeded. My time with Ragnar was done.”

  “You let me capture you? On purpose?”

  Toki shrugged.

  Redknee eyed Toki with disbelief. He didn’t know what to think. “I don’t know,” he said, “your story could be a trick to get me to trust you.”

  “Lad, you ask the wrong questions. You can’t afford not to trust me. Did you know your mother almost married Ragnar?”

  “That’s a lie.”

  Toki laughed. “Oh, your uncle never mentioned that? And neither he would. You see, he was in love with your mother too.”

  “Stop it … stop these lies. Just tell me why Sven was questioning you about the book. What is it you know?”

  “I’m telling you – if you’ll listen.”

  “Get on with it then.”

  “Your uncle was jealous of your father,” Toki said, coughing. The smoke was getting thicker. “I suppose he told you your father was a pathetic warrior. You don’t need to answer. The look on your face says it all. Well, it’s true he wasn’t much of a fighter. But that doesn’t mean he wasn’t brave. Before you were born, your father, Sven and Ragnar raided an Irish monastery. They stole many great treasures from it, not least a precious book, the only one of its kind in the world.”

  “The Codex Hibernia?”

  Toki nodded. “Your father became obsessed with the book – with decoding its secrets. But there was a falling out – that’s when your father fought Ragnar. Afterwards, Ragnar ran away with the loot and set himself up as a warlord, buying in mercenaries to enforce his rule. He didn’t get the book though – Sven, the canny old fox, must have taken it for himself in the commotion.”

  “Damn,” Redknee said. “I knew the book was linked to my father. But why was my uncle questioning you about it?”

  “Back then, I was your father’s closest friend. Your uncle believes your father, in his obsession, decoded the exact location of the treasure. Sven thinks your father told me where this was.”

  “Did he?”

  Toki laughed. “I wish. Do you think I would be serving that maniac Ragnar as the hired help if I knew the secret to riches beyond imagination? I don’t think so.”

  “Do you know if my f
ather yet lives?”

  Toki shook his head. “I don’t know. I never saw him again after his fight with Ragnar.”

  “You saw the fight?” Redknee asked, surprised. “Is it true my father was mortally wounded?”

  A rafter crashed from the roof, setting fire to the straw at Toki’s feet. “Come on,” Toki said. “I’ll answer anything you want once we get out of here. I’ve kept my side of the bargain. Now untie me before we’re both killed.”

  Chapter 17

  The beach heaved with people trying to squeeze onto the few remaining vessels. A dozen rowing boats and a couple of larger fishing crafts groaned beneath many times their normal load. Yet still the panicked islanders piled on.

  Wavedancer had broken her moorings and was wedged in the shallow waters near the beach. Koll and Uncle Sven were trying to push her free as yet more people clambered onboard. She looked fit to topple.

  “By Thor’s hammer,” Redknee said to Toki as they arrived on the scene. “They’ll sink Wavedancer. We’ve got to help my uncle push her free.”

  Redknee and Toki hurried across the beach. Sinead and Brother Alfred were among the mass of people wallowing in the shallows. Brother Alfred was trying to raise Sinead high enough to grab an oarport, while a man on the deck tried to stamp on her head. Olvir was a little further off. He couldn’t see Silver anywhere.

  “Forget that,” Toki said. “It’s every man for himself.” He stretched his long legs, charging at the pack of bodies, bounded across their backs and onto the deck before anyone could stop him.

  So much for gratitude, Redknee was on his own. He splashed into the water and jammed his shoulder under the hull next to Koll. He pushed with all his might, but the weight of all the people had crushed the keel into the sand. She was stuck fast.