That was how it seemed to me, anyway. But the decision was not mine alone to make. Magnus was chewing his lip, his face drawn as if contemplating.
‘Well?’ asked Bald-head.
‘If you’ll join us,’ Magnus said after a moment’s pause, ‘then, yes, we’ll share that wealth with you.’
He glanced at me to make sure that I was in agreement, and I nodded. The bald one went to confer with Aubert, Oylard and his fellow boatmen. Again there was grumbling, and again voices were raised, but at the end of it the shipmaster came forward.
‘Have you decided?’ I asked.
Aubert smiled. ‘We’ve come this far, haven’t we? It seems to me we might as well venture a little further. If Robert has anything to say about it later, well — ’ he shrugged and gestured towards Wace and Eudo ‘- I can always claim that they forced me to come north against my will, can’t I?’
‘If you do, those will be the last words ever to come out of your mouth,’ Eudo warned.
His expression suggested he was only half joking, but Aubert laughed all the same.
‘So,’ the shipmaster said. ‘Where do we find this Haakon?’
After that day’s calm, the wind picked up again on the next. A fierce storm blew in that made it impossible to sail, but we came upon a village close by the shore whose folk proved friendly enough, once they realised that we weren’t interested in robbing them. There we put what coin and goods we had to good use, exchanging them for a barrel of salted pork to replace one we’d lost overboard whilst riding out the squall several days before, as well as two more of ale in place of some that the seawater had spoiled. Our purchases made, we waited for the gale to subside, for the rain to cease lashing down, and for the skies to lighten once more.
I thought of old Snorri, and hoped Hrithdyr was safe in port rather than having to weather out this storm on the open seas that lay between here and Ysland. Assuming that they had made it without harm through the Suthreyjar, that was, although if there was anyone who would know which passages were safe to take and which islands to avoid, it was probably him.
‘He wouldn’t have lived as long as he has, doing what he does, if he didn’t know how to take care of himself,’ Magnus assured me. ‘He’ll be all right. If he’s sensible he’ll have sought out a travelling companion or two for the voyage. At this time of year the sea wolves are beginning to slumber, but nonetheless you’ll often find traders will band together for protection.’
‘As we have,’ I said.
‘True, but no one’s likely to attack us, are they?’
‘Why not?’
‘You’ll find easy spoils aboard a trader, but on a longship all you’ll find are warriors. You never see wolves preying upon their own kind, do you? Why should they waste their time fighting each other when there are more than enough pickings to allow them all to grow fat?’
That made sense, although even so I found myself more than a little nervous when the next morning, after the sea-mist had lifted, our two ships left the shores of Yrland behind us, for I knew we were venturing further north than I or any Norman had ever been before, into waters unknown even to Aubert.
I only prayed this latest undertaking did not prove to be a mistake on my part. The Danes were renowned across Christendom for being hard men to kill, and if the stories about him held any grain of truth, we were pitting ourselves against one of the fiercest and most ruthless of them all.
Winter was almost upon us. Even hours after the sun had lifted above the hills off our steerboard side, my breath misted before my face, while the wind bit through my cloak, working its chill through my flesh and deep into my very bones. This was the time of year when most sensible folk were slaughtering what animals they couldn’t afford to keep fed through the winter, mending holes in their warm clothes and caps, and huddling down close by their hearths.
But we were not most folk.
The further north we sailed, the steeper and darker grew the islands that rose like jagged mountains out of the sea, the more thickly wooded they became, and the fewer signs we saw of anyone living there. No wisps of smoke rose towards the slate-grey skies; no sheep grazed upon the hillsides; no fishermen’s hovels stood above the shoreline. These were sparse, barren lands, where the inhabitants of the one village we did come across were subject to no king that they knew of, whether English or Scots or Irish or Danish. Indeed, if any lord at all held sway in these parts, they had not heard of him. They tended their chickens and their few goats, and sometimes sold their goods to passing merchants and other travellers, though not often, and for the most part those were the only souls they saw outside of their own valley. But when Eithne and Magnus, who both happened to speak their language or something very like it, mentioned to them the name of Haakon Thorolfsson, and asked if he had been heard of recently, they all made the sign of the cross and began babbling at once.
‘He came to these parts only a week ago, they say,’ Eithne told me. ‘They all started running as soon as they saw the crimson sails of his ship appearing from the mist, but it turned out he hadn’t come with any intention of raiding.’
These people had precious little that was worth stealing, so that was no great surprise. ‘What did he want?’
‘He was looking for men who could hold a spear. He offered to give two sheep and five geese to every man who would go with him for the winter, although naturally they were all suspicious of him, and so none accepted.’
‘Why would he be looking to hire spearmen?’ Magnus wondered aloud. ‘He can’t be planning on going foraging at this time of year, surely?’
‘Maybe he’s looking to bolster his defences,’ I said.
‘But why?’ The Englishman hesitated. ‘Unless-’
‘Unless he knows we’re coming,’ I finished for him.
And I could explain, too, how he knew. Only one person who wasn’t a part of our expedition was aware that we were seeking out Jarl Haakon, and why. I wondered how much he’d been paid for his information, and felt embarrassed at having only the other evening been concerned for him out there on the wild and open ocean. Now I hoped that he choked on his next meal.
Old Snorri, who had deceived us with his friendly manner, had betrayed us to our enemy.
Haakon knew, then, that Magnus was coming for him, and that was why he was looking to purchase the services of fighting men, to help guard the walls of his stronghold. But I hadn’t revealed my real name to the trader, so Haakon couldn’t yet know that accompanying Harold’s son was the knight Tancred, nor that he brought with him a second shipload of warriors, allies from England. He remained ignorant of exactly how many we numbered, and that was one advantage we still held over him.
Events in England had been moving apace in the short time that I’d been away. During those days as we crept up the coast of northern Britain, Wace and Eudo related how King Guillaume had accepted the submission of the principal leaders of the Elyg rebels, granting forgiveness and receiving them at court. No sooner had they dismissed their armies and sent all their followers home in time for the ploughing season, however, than he cast them all in chains and confined them to the castle dungeon at Cantebrigia until he decided what to do with them.
‘He did that?’ I asked, having joined my countrymen on Wyvern. I found it difficult to believe that the king, who was not usually one to break a pledge, and indeed prided himself on that reputation, would go back on his word, and in so blatant a fashion.
‘That’s what we’ve been hearing,’ Eudo said. He turned to Godric. ‘It means there’ll be no earldom for your uncle. All Morcar’s estates and those of his vassals have been confiscated.’
Godric grunted. His lips were set firm, his expression unfeeling. ‘It’s no more than he deserves.’
Wace grinned and clapped a hand on his shoulder. ‘It’s lucky that you’re with Tancred now, isn’t it, whelp?’
‘Otherwise you’d be rotting away along with Morcar in whatever dank prison the king finds for him,’ Eudo added.
<
br /> Godric said nothing, and I wondered if he wasn’t perhaps feeling a little guilty at having evaded such a fate, at having turned his back upon his uncle, who had, after all, sheltered him for so many years. Yet he had nothing to feel ashamed of. Morcar had broken promise after promise, first to the king and then to the rebels, committing one betrayal after another, playing both sides to his advantage. In hindsight he’d been foolish to think that the king would act any more honourably towards him. He had brought about his own ruin.
‘They’re still looking for Hereward, you know,’ Wace said.
‘Still?’ I asked. ‘They haven’t given up?’
‘The king is convinced he’s out there somewhere, hiding, plotting. Several bodies were pulled from the marsh in the week or so after the battle, we’re told, one of which was supposedly about the same size and build as Hereward, but his flesh was too bloated and his skin was peeling away, so no one could tell for sure. Most people seem to think he’s fled England altogether. In the meantime the king’s keeping up the search, and will probably do so all winter.’
King Guillaume was well known for his bullheadedness, as we had seen for ourselves during the campaign in the fenlands. If he had decided that Hereward remained alive and a threat, then he would do everything he could to hunt him down, even if that meant scorching the Fens to draw him out, in the same way that he’d ravaged the north during his campaign last winter.
News wasn’t the only thing they’d brought from England, either. ‘We have something else for you,’ Eudo said.
Beckoning me to follow him, he made his way to the hatch that led to the hold space beneath the steering platform, from which, with my help, he hauled out a small chest about half as long as a man was high, with iron handles mounted on either end.
‘What’s this?’ I asked. ‘A gift?’
He didn’t answer, but untied the leather thong that was attached to his belt and held out the key that had been hanging from it. Not quite sure what to expect, I took it from him, eyeing him suspiciously, then knelt down, placed it in the lock, twisted until I felt it click, then lifted open the lid-
To find my packs, just as I had left them at Heia, as well as a sword in its scabbard, wrapped in a bundle of white cloth. And not just any sword. Its hilt was decorated with a single turquoise stone, set into the centre of the disc pommel.
A turquoise stone that I recognised at once.
‘We both reckoned that if you were to go back to face Robert, it would be better if you didn’t arrive looking like a flea-ridden beggar, but had your blade and all your other belongings,’ Eudo said with a grin.
I was too surprised and overjoyed even to think, let alone find the words to thank him. Laughing in delight, I lifted the scabbard, still shrouded in its cloth, out from the chest, laying it on the deck beside me, and drew the blade from the sheath. The steel had been recently polished so that, even in the small light of that dull day, it gleamed like silver.
‘Open out the cloth,’ Wace said, having come to join us.
‘What?’ I asked. ‘Why?’
‘Unfurl it, and you’ll see.’
Carefully I unwound the thick bolt of linen from around the scabbard, wondering if perhaps there was something else wrapped inside, although I couldn’t think what. It only took me a moment to realise what I was holding, as I glimpsed first a wing and then the head with its short, curved beak, the bird emblazoned in black upon a white field, in flight with talons extended as if stooping for the kill. The hawk of Earnford — and of Commines, too, for it had also been the symbol of our former lord. When the time had come for me to choose a banner of my own, I’d adopted the device as a mark of respect, thinking that I would thereby serve his memory in the same way that I had served the man himself.
‘I almost forgot,’ I heard Eudo call, as he disappeared back into the hold space. ‘There’s one more thing.’
He emerged a moment later holding a shield, which like my banner bore the symbol of the hawk, although rather more crudely depicted, since whereas I’d entrusted the task of making the banner to the women of Earnford, I’d insisted on painting all my shields myself, and had spent long hours working under the sun and by the light of the hearth-fire daubing white and black on to the hide that faced the limewood boards until they appeared how I wanted them, or close enough to the image I held in my head as to satisfy me. Some laughed when they saw my efforts, reckoning that my hawks looked more like magpies or moorhens, but I didn’t care.
For a shield is not only a knight’s protection, it is also his pride, and any warrior who values his life knows to pay as much attention to his shield as to his mail and his blades. That said, even the sturdiest of them rarely lasts long in the hands of one who lives his life by the sword, and this one had seen happier days. The boss was scuffed and dented, and there were grimy marks upon the paintwork, which might have been mud or blood or a combination of both. How much longer this one would last until the iron rim cracked and the limewood began to splinter, I couldn’t say with any certainty, but none of that mattered right now. Eudo held it out to me and I took it gratefully, passing the long guige strap over my head and then working my forearm through the brases, adjusting the buckles with my other hand until it felt secure.
And all the while I could not stop smiling. I might have been landless and lordless, lacking so much as a horse to ride and a hall to call my home, with hardly a penny left in my coin-purse and so few friends that I could have probably counted them on my two hands alone, yet in that moment I felt rich beyond imagination. For those friends that I did have were worth more to me than all those other things put together. On my behalf they had taken risks that other men would baulk at. After everything that I’d done, they were still prepared to fight by my side.
And that thought alone was enough to give me confidence that we could do this. That somehow, I did not know how, but somehow, we would prevail.
Twenty-four
The last thing we wanted to do was to rush in, in the hope of gaining the advantage of surprise, only to find ourselves caught in a snare. Thus we proceeded cautiously, with lookouts posted at all times at bow and at stern.
More than a week after leaving Dyflin, we found ourselves entering a narrow strait between two islands: one of gently sloping hills that Magnus called Ile; and another that he called Dure, which was steeper, with slate-grey peaks that rose like the burial mounds of giants, dwarfing us and our tiny craft. There was, Magnus had told us, a shorter route we could have chosen, to the east of the steeper island, which he had used once before and where there was less chance of being spotted, but those were treacherous waters. A vicious whirlpool churned off the northernmost point of Dure, around which waves had been known to rise to the height of ten men, enough to overwhelm even the sturdiest vessel and cause it to founder and sink.
‘Some believe that on the sea floor dwells a sea serpent whose jaws are large enough to swallow even a forty-bencher whole,’ he said solemnly, and I wasn’t sure whether he meant that was what he believed. ‘Others say it’s the washtub of an ancient hag-spirit, who comes down at night to clean her filthy, lice-ridden robes in its waters, although no one has ever seen her.’
Whether either of those stories was true or not, since Magnus was our guide and he knew these waters better than anyone else among us, I thought it wise to take his advice. Even for those who knew the currents well, he said, that was a dangerous channel, for the winds and the tides could conspire to dash unlucky travellers upon the rock-bound shore, on the sharp skerries that rose out of the water, and the dark shoals that lay just beneath the surface.
Instead, then, we took the safer, longer route, although as we neared the strait that joined the two passages, we glimpsed one of those whirlpools from afar, and saw those immense waves of which Magnus had spoken, rearing up like wild sea stallions that charged at one another before erupting in clashes of white-glistening spume, as if the sea were at war with itself. Even from several leagues away the roar of that m
aelstrom was loud enough to make many men cross themselves against the evil of that place.
No evil befell us, however, nor did we spy any other ships approaching, and so that same afternoon under grim skies Aubert steered Wyvern to the north-east, following Nihtegesa. With a gusting breeze at our backs, we sailed into a wide sea-lake, bounded on both shores by dark-towering mountains the likes of which I had never before seen, whose peaks were lost amidst the clouds. And in the middle of that sound, stretching along the length of the fjord, rose a long, low finger of land, its crags and grassy slopes dotted with wind-stunted, bare-branched trees. From the other ship, one of the Englishmen waved to attract our attention, pointing towards that island as his crew reefed her sail and the oarsmen slackened their pace.
‘That’s it,’ Magnus called to us, once Aubert had brought us level with Nihtegesa, and even above the gusting wind I could hear his excitement. ‘That’s Haakon’s isle.’
‘What now?’ I shouted back.
‘We find shelter!’ He spread his arms wide and gestured upwards to the darkening heavens. The upper slopes of the mountains had suddenly become lost amidst the swelling cloud, and with every moment the wind was increasing in strength, turning white the tips of the waves that ran up the fjord, a sure sign of worse weather on the way. Perhaps that was the reason why we hadn’t spied any other vessel out, not even a coracle or fishing boat, although it still concerned me that the waters were so quiet. I wasn’t alone in that opinion, either, as Magnus told me after we had steered our ships into a bay on the fjord’s northern shore that offered a good natural harbour. There, with the light fading, we dropped anchor to ride out the coming squall, and conferred on our best course of action.
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