by C. R. May
“Sigtun, on the other hand is a far busier place. Although ships can get closer to Uppsala, the land becomes increasingly marshy the nearer you get and the river winds its way so much that, in practice, travellers are far better off disembarking at Sigtun and hiring a horse for the last part of their journey. From the waterfront the town rises in a series of terraces to a large burial mound from the old days. The Swedes claim that Sigtun was the home of Woden in the past and that this is his barrow. The stables are near the dock, on the far left hand side of the first terrace. From there the road leads directly away to Uppsala.”
Gunnar glanced at Beowulf for confirmation that he had finished his address.
Beowulf smiled and nodded his thanks as Gunnar rejoined his companions.
“Thank you, Gunnar. If I think of anything else I will share it with you all before we leave. If you think of anything, ask myself or Heardred. We will split into our groups now. I will take the first watch with Heardred. Sighere and Tatwine will relieve us.”
Sighere and Tatwine nodded, glumly.
“It’s a privilege of rank.” He smiled.
After the exertions of the day the evening drinking was subdued. Men sat in groups close to the fires, hunched against the cold which had crept upon them with the coming of darkness. Very soon the only sounds to be heard were those of sleeping men.
Beowulf awoke to the smell of cooking. He tried to guess what was being prepared but found it difficult, enveloped as he was by the same cloak he had worn continuously for over a week. It definitely was not porridge he decided.
Thank the gods, give me meat!
It was no good, he knew. He would have to rise to find out what was available. His body and clothes smelled far too strongly to distinguish between the smell of the food and himself. Flinging back his cloak he blinked in the bright morning sunshine.
Bright morning sunshine! How long had he been asleep?
“Ah, there you are kinsman!”
Heardred stood before him, water dripping from his naked body. Turning he called out to the men.
“It’s all right. He’s not dead after all!”
The men laughed and smiled as he rose, shakily from the ground.
“Here, have a hunk of pork.”
Heardred tossed the pork to Beowulf who tore hungrily at it, savouring the life restoring warmth which seeped through his body with every bite.
“I have been for a swim. I suggest you do too, you smelly bastard, otherwise the Swedes will smell you coming from a mile away!”
Beowulf sniffed at his sleeve. He had to concede that he had a point. He had brought a change of clothing with him but in his haste he had left them on the Griffon. Thankfully the day was warm and he could refresh himself with a swim before he washed and dried his clothes on the rocks. He stripped off and joined his cousin, and it seemed, most of the other men in the freezing waters of the lake.
Later that morning a boat manned by two men approached the shore. As they came nearer one of the men called over to ask if they wished to buy some fish from them. Heardred came and stood beside Beowulf.
“What do you think kinsman?”
Beowulf rubbed his beard as he deliberated.
“We can’t just send them away. They will be telling everyone they meet that there is a shipload of warriors hidden beyond the point. We have to let them come ashore.”
Heardred nodded.
“I agree. I could do with some fresh fish anyway.”
Beowulf beckoned the men ashore. The boat slid onto the beach with a gentle crunch as several of the Geat warriors held the bows. Leaping from the wale the fisherman stumbled and fell sprawling onto the shingle.
“It’s not my lucky day, lord!” he smiled stupidly as he rose to his feet.
“How was your catch?”
“We have had a good day so far, lord. There are enough fish on board for each of your men to have a couple each if they would like.”
“We’ll take them all, unload them on the beach.”
Beowulf tossed the delighted man a large silver coin.
“That is a good price, lord, you have my thanks!”
He kissed the coin and placed it inside the purse which hung from his waist.
“You are far from home, lord, what brings you to Swede Land?”
Beowulf noticed the rest of his men tense slightly at the question. The fisherman had noticed it too and he could see that the man had instantly regretted his innocent question.
“We are Wuffings. We are carrying tribute to King Ongentheow. We took a wrong turn last night and found ourselves here. Perhaps you could accompany us and guide us to Sigtun. I would pay you well for your trouble.”
“Ah, Wuffings, I thought that I recognised the accent. I am sorry, lord, but we are just local fishermen we don’t know the way all the way up there. I will tell one of the river men to come out to you when I get back if that is acceptable to you?”
“Of course, I would be grateful.”
“I’ll get straight back then, lord. I will have them here this afternoon.”
The fisherman turned and walked self consciously back towards his boat. He was clearly walking with all the confidence of a sheep which had found itself in the middle of a wolf pack.
“He knows.”
Heardred had stepped beside Beowulf.
“I know.”
“Do you want me to do it?”
“Take care of the one on the boat. Tell Finn to kill this one. Let’s see if he can kill his own kind.”
Heardred slipped his seax from its scabbard and motioned to Finn. A look was all that Finn needed to understand what was expected of him. Taking up his sword he approached the man.
“I used to be a fisherman!”
The man turned his head with a nervous smile as the blade flashed. Moments later his head, still smiling, lay at his feet. Slowly his legs buckled and his headless torso slumped down to join it on the shingle.
His companion, too far away to have heard the conversation, let out a cry and fell backwards against the rear of the boat. Realising that he would be next he seemed about to go for the oars but realised that he would have no chance of launching the boat.
Heardred had already risen, dripping, into the forward scuppers and was making his way towards him. Just before he reached him, Beowulf saw the moment when the man accepted his fate as all hope drained from him.
They unloaded the fish and placed the bodies in the boat, weighted down by rocks. Once they were certain that all was secure they moved the boat into deeper water and hacked holes into the bottom of the hull. It quickly sank from view, taking its unfortunate owners with it.
Heardred rejoined Beowulf.
“That was a pity. You gave them their chance though, they should have taken it.”
Beowulf nodded.
“Someone cook the fish, it came with a heavy price. And stow the ale. There will be no more until we are on our way home.”
He sighed wearily.
The man had been right when he had stumbled.
It had been not been his lucky day.
They left the bay as the sun passed its zenith. With gentle, steady, strokes the now fully rested crew coasted down, rejoined the main course of the River Malaren, and turned their prow north, deeper into the heart of the enemy, the fiend.
Just as Beowulf had anticipated the river was busy with boats moving in both directions at this time of the day. They would hide in plain sight. The more boats there were around them the less conspicuous they would appear.
The air was warm and still and the crew rowed steadily or dozed amidships. After the first hour they came to the town of Telje. Here the river narrowed abruptly and the citizens eyed them warily as they passed. Several small boys kept pace with them as they ran along the riverside, eager to catch a glimpse of a dracca and its hardened crew. A duty collector waved happily to them as they passed. No duties were paid by the king's warriors, which was clearly what they were. He might not seem so relaxed if he
knew which king they served, Beowulf reflected with a smile.
They had not enjoyed killing the fishermen earlier in the day but they had all seen their share of death over the years to realise that there is often no sense in it. They had all seen men die needlessly, sometimes even comically, to realise that there was little that a man could do to escape the fate which has been reserved for him by the gods.
Five miles past Telje the river opened onto the waters of the lake. Ahead of them lay a broad expanse of water studded by islands of all shapes and sizes.
“Follow the other boats to the right hand side of that big island dead ahead, lord. When we reach the end we will need to turn sharply to the right and then enter the bay on our left. That leads up to the river which will take us up to Sigtun.”
Gunnar was taking a well earned rest from steering duties, having reluctantly handed the tiller over to Heardred as they reached the end of the River Malaren. To regain control from the former seaman Heardred had eventually been forced to remind him.
“It is my ship after all!”
They entered the river and moved north. Beowulf was pleased, they had made excellent time, if anything they were a bit too early. They could hardly beach the ship close to Sigtun at this hour, it would arouse suspicions. No crew would rather spend the evening camped on the riverside while the delights of a town lay so close by but they were already within five miles of their objective. Then he remembered Botulf and his elk ship.
“Heardred, beach the ship in that small bay, I have an idea.”
Heardred pulled the tiller to his chest and guided the Raven into the bay.
“Make sure that you beach her with the steer board facing the river traffic, I want everyone to see what has disabled us.”
Heardred approached the bank before, with a sharp push on the tiller he expertly swept the Raven onto the muddy bank.
“I want two men to remove the steer board and look as though they are repairing it, any volunteers?”
Two men stepped forward.
“Strip off your tops and make it look as though two workers have been sent out from the shipyard to make repairs.”
Beowulf turned and addressed the rest of the crew.
“Let’s get the awning erected midships and arm ourselves. The majority of us will have to stay out of sight until it grows dark. After we have armed I want Gunnar to explain what we can expect to see as we approach Sigtun.”
As the volunteers busied themselves, apparently affecting repairs to the steering gear, Beowulf joined the others in preparing himself for the following day’s attack. Taking out his chest from beneath the steering platform he removed his mail byrnie and slipped it on over his fine woollen under shirt. Gunnar helped as he attached the front and back pieces of his blood red leather battle shirt on top of this, holding it in place as Beowulf secured it by the gold and garnet clasps at each shoulder. As Gunnar laced up the sides he slipped his metal wrist guard in place over his right arm and attached greaves to his lower legs. For the first time he attached his Roman gladius, ‘Pluto’, to his belt, admiring the gold and ivory handle as he did so. He would collect his sword, grim helm and shield just prior to landing in the town.
“Gunnar, would you like to describe the town while we can all still see you,” he called.
The evening had come on while they had been busy arming themselves and it was now almost dark enough for the men working on the steering board to cease their pretence.
“Make sure that you fix that up properly and arm yourselves while you can still see. Well done, you worked really hard there doing nothing,” he grinned.
Once they were all collected together Gunnar rose and stood beside Beowulf and Heardred. The men were quiet but appeared grimly determined Beowulf noted with satisfaction. Gunnar cleared his throat and began.
“About two miles ahead of us you will see where the river divides into two. We will take the left hand channel and after about a mile the river opens up again into a wide bay. Two miles ahead of us we will see the lights of Sigtun. At the time of night that we will be approaching the town there will probably only be the lights from the dock area visible but that will be enough. The watchmen light braziers there every night for warmth, and light to discourage thieves. Sigtun sits on a headland between the river and another blind bay which leads off to the right. Once we are in the bay it should be a simple matter to aim directly at the lights of the waterfront. There are no islands or other obstacles in our path. That is it really. The layout of the town I went over yesterday. It should be quite straightforward.”
“Thank you, Gunnar. Straightforward is good. Has anyone got any last questions?”
Beowulf looked once again at the crowd of grim faces before him.
“No? Good.”
“Let’s try to get some rest. Move into your groups so that there is no delay when we leave the ship. My group, going to Uppsala, will be on the front benches followed by those with Sighere and then Tatwine. I will wake you all when it is time. May the Allfather walk with you all…”
Beowulf turned to his cousin.
“Heardred would you like to add anything?”
Heardred smiled and stepped forward.
“We were sent here to the Swedish beast’s lair to ‘burn his black heart out’. Well, our numbers are now too small for that but I think that with the quality of men I see before me we can promise to at least give him a bad attack of indigestion!”
Beowulf was pleased to see the men smile. He was thankful that his cousin had a more light hearted quality to his speeches than he seemed to manage. He was aware that he was sometimes too serious but it was his nature. Together though, they complemented one another well.
“It is time…It is time” Beowulf, Heardred, Sighere and Tatwine moved amongst their men gently shaking them awake. They had collected on the steering platform a short time before and toasted success with a cup of ale.
“Another, better, privilege of rank!” he had smiled at them from the gloom.
The few men that had managed to fall into a fitful sleep were instantly awake at the first touch of their hand. Automatically they reached for their weapons and moved to their positions. A few of them reached inside their tunics to retrieve pieces of meat which they had saved for the morning. Most, Beowulf noticed, felt unable to stomach food.
He smiled as he caught the tail end of a conversation between the warriors of his comitatus.
“Well, if you are not going to eat it, can I have it?”
“Cola, you are worse than a dog!”
“At least he doesn’t sit in the middle of the room licking himself.”
“Only because he can’t reach!”
Attaching his sword scabbard to the baldric which hung from his right shoulder he placed his grim helm onto his head and fastened it securely. Stowing his shield safely in the bows he took up his position and called the order to shove off from the shore.
With a push from the oars the Raven moved away from the bank and glided to mid channel. The outline of the main river channel stood out in slightly darker relief to the surrounding land. The night was not the blackest he had ever seen but it was not far off he decided. A little more light would have been helpful but at least the darkness would help to conceal them. Was it a happy coincidence that Heardred had decided to call his ship Raven and have it painted completely black or was it once again the work of the gods?
They would soon know.
As soon as they lined up on the river channel the lights of Sigtun were clearly visible, just as Gunnar had promised. It could not have been better. The lights not only guided them directly to their objective but also served to ensure that the way ahead was free from any obstructions. Very soon they were emerging from the narrows into the wide bay which lay before the town. It was a further two miles to the waterfront and the men kept up an easy, steady pace, conserving their energy for the final run in. In no time they were half way across the bay.
“Lord!”
He s
tarted as a hand was laid upon his shoulder. Surprised, he turned and was confronted by one of Tatwine’s men from the rear of the ship.
“What is it?”
“We think that we can see shapes to our rear.”
Beowulf looked at the man uncomprehendingly. He had been moments away from ordering the final increase in speed as they ran in to the town and now some idiot was muttering about shapes.
“What do you mean shapes?” he hissed.
“Large, dark, shapes lord. We think that there are ships behind us.”
Beowulf’s mind raced. What could it mean? Could they be merchants, did they travel at night? He nodded his thanks to the warrior.
“Tell Tatwine to keep his eye on them. There is not much we can do now if they are hostile, we are committed to the attack. Good luck.”
Beowulf sensed rather than saw Tatwine’s man nod his head and hasten back to the rear.
Shit, push on. Hard and Fast!
The waterfront lights were very close now. He retrieved his shield from the bows and drew his sword. Moving to the prow of the ship he was about to take up his position in the place of honour when he stopped.
Ahead of him the waterfront had suddenly sprung to life. As he looked on, aghast, a line of torches cascaded down the slope to the lower terrace and snaked their way out to left and right. Soon the whole area was a mass of flame beneath which shone the telltale reflections made by scores, no hundreds, of mail clad men.
“Lights to our rear!”
Beowulf spun around. He watched in horror as, one by one, lights flickered into life like so many stars in the early evening sky. Heardred moved to his side.
“You know that you said that you had a plan to protect our coast, make the men rich and fulfil our original mission. It looks as though you may have to settle for two of the three.”
Once he had recovered from the initial surprise he knew what he had to do. He turned to Heardred and clasped him affectionately by the shoulders.
“I am carrying on, as we discussed. Are you still with me kinsman?”