Viking Gold (14 page)

Ivar and the other farmers
mustered quickly, meeting the attackers blow for blow. Not one to be left out
of a fight, Sven was fast to wade in, crunching flesh and bone beneath his axe.

“Should we help?” Olvir
asked.

 “We’re unarmed …”
Redknee said through gritted teeth. “We should stay where we are.”

Olvir picked up a stone.
“I’ll never be a warrior,” he said, pulling back his arm to throw it.

“No!” Redknee said, catching
him. He took the stone from between Olvir’s fingers and chucked it away. “I’ve
another idea.” He grabbed Olvir’s wrist and pulled him towards the bloodied
water. “If you know this island so well, you’ll know where Ragnar has left his
ship.”

They
came upon Ragnar’s camp in a secluded bay as the first streaks of dawn stained
the sky. High, jagged rocks protected the bay on three sides, affording only a
narrow opening to the sea. The black ship was anchored in the shallows. Without
Olvir, Redknee would never have found such a perfect hiding spot.

“I’m afraid,” Olvir whispered
as they snuck ashore under cover of a rocky outcrop.

“I was afraid once too …”
Redknee said, sliding his eating knife from his belt, “… still am. But just
think of it like looking for one of your lost lambs. You might come across a
wolf, but it’s still got to be done.”

“But there’s so many of
them.”

“It’s easier if you don’t
think … hang on, what do you mean?”

Olvir stabbed a dirty finger
in the direction of the camp.

Redknee paused to take a
proper look. He’d been so busy staying quiet as he docked the rowing boat and
crept ashore that he hadn’t surveyed the camp. About twenty men lay in fur
sleeping bags round a fire.

“How did they get back so
quickly?”

Olvir shrugged. “Maybe they
were never at
Whale
Bay
.”

“That wasn’t Ragnar who
attacked us?”

“Ivar has a running feud with
the jarl of a nearby island. They’re always fighting over the whale harvest.
They used to split the haul. But the other jarl said he should get more because
it was harder to raise sheep on his piddling rock. Said his family would
starve.”

“What’s Ragnar been up to
while we’ve been playing at fishermen?” Redknee asked worriedly.

Olvir shrugged. “What about
your plan?”

“Its not going to work now,
is it?”

“How should I know? You never
told me what it was.”

Damn right, Redknee thought. Competent
navigator, maybe, but Olvir was no strategist. “By Thor’s hammer, you’re even
more annoying than the girl.”

“What? I found this place for
you. It’s not my fault I can’t stand blood.”

Redknee bit his tongue before
he said anything he’d regret. One wrong move and they’d have the whole of
Ragnar’s mini army on them. He eyed Olvir as he cowered behind a lump of
granite. Maybe the boy just needed a chance … someone to give him confidence …
someone to believe in him.

“You know …,” Redknee said
gently. “It’s not the sight of blood that makes you faint.”

“It is.”

Redknee shook his head.
“That’s just what you’ve been told.”

“I’m thinking about blood
now, and it’s making me queasy.” To emphasise this point, Olvir swayed a bit
and reached out to support himself against the rock.

“Don’t be daft,” Redknee
said. “If you tell yourself you’ll be fine, then you will be.”

Olvir looked thoughtful. “So
… you’re saying if I try and forget about blood and guts and gore … and all
that stuff …”

Redknee nodded.

“… then I won’t faint… and
I’ll be a great warrior!”

Redknee hesitated. “I
wouldn’t say it will happen at once—”

“Alright!” Olvir’s eyes shone
with excitement. “I’m ready to take on Ragnar and his men single … sorry,
double-handed.”

Redknee sighed. “We should
bide our time … wait for the right moment.”

“But look, they’re leaving.”

Redknee looked over at the
camp. Olvir was right. The men were standing, rolling up their sleeping bags
and getting their weapons together. He watched as they began marching towards
the hills, leaving the black ship guarded by a sleepy looking Mord and Toki
who’d already resumed their places by the fire. Now was indeed the time to
strike. He’d show his uncle he was good for more than guarding a stupid book.

“Where are they going?” Olvir
asked.

Redknee shrugged. “I don’t
know.”

“What about your plan then?”

“Oh. It’s quite simple. All
we need are some sheep. Think you can find me a few of those?”

Olvir nodded. “If there’s one
thing I know about, it’s sheep.”

“What’s
that infernal bleating? Toki rubbed his eyes and sat up.

“It’s just some herd
passing,” Mord said. “Go back to sleep.”

“I fancy some mutton,” Toki
said, staggering to his feet. “You coming?”

“Can’t you kill a lamb on
your own?”

“If I do, I won’t share it.”

“One of these days I’m going
to have you beaten for insolence,” Mord said, sighing. He put down the piece of
bone he’d been carving and picked up his sword. “Not sure I should leave the
girl,” he said, glancing to where Sinead slept near the fire, her hands tied
behind her back.

“Bah, she’ll be fine … get
it?”

“What?” Mord frowned.

“Never mind,” Toki said,
leading the way towards the dunes and the bleating. “Anyone would think you’re
sweet on that girl.”

“Don’t be stupid … I need
her, that’s all.”

“That’s what they all say.”

Redknee
watched as first Toki, then Mord, disappeared behind a grass-fringed dune and
out of hearing. It was time to make his move. He looked to where Sinead lay on
the sand; someone had given her a rolled up tunic to prop her head, and her
chest rose and fell in the slow rhythm of sleep. Waking her would risk alerting
Mord and Toki. Besides, she seemed to be doing just fine on her own.

He scuttled across the sand
on all fours like a crab. The black ship sat high in the water, buoyed by the
gentle swoosh-swoosh of surf. Jet eyes stared down at him from the snake
figurehead, all-seeing, like Odin’s ravens. He shuddered. Still, as precious
stones, they might be worth good coin. He would remove them with his knife
later.

Moving quickly, he dislodged
the anchor, gave the ugly iron-clad bow a mighty push and scrambled on board.
Olvir’s diversion wouldn’t give him long. With some effort, he raised the big
square sail, but the morning was calm and it sagged wearily against the mast. 

He
eyed the oars. He could never row such a large ship out of the bay on his own.
He glanced towards the dunes. What was keeping Olvir?

A scuffling sound came from
the other side of the hull. Olvir’s call was the
churr-churr-chirruc
of
the reed warbler. He heard the clank of metal against wood, the soft thud of
leather boots scrabbling to find purchase against smooth, sea-polished planks,
but no birdcall. He drew his knife. It would give scant protection against a
sword, but he had nothing else. A hand reached over the rail and groped about
for something solid to hold. He rushed forward and stamped on it.

“Argh! Why did you go and do
that?” Sinead’s pain-twisted face popped above the gunwale.

Redknee stood speechless.

“Well?” she said, pursing her
lips into a thin line, “don’t just stand there like an overgrown turnip. Help
me up.”

“Why should I? You betrayed
me. You went with Mord of your own free will. You only want to come back
because I’ve got the book.”

“I’ll scream.”

“No, you won’t.” He shot
forward, pulled her onto the deck and pressed his hand over her mouth. She
twisted like a feral cat, but he held her tight. “I’ll let you go if you
promise to behave.”

She shook her head.

“Fine,” he said. “Then I’ll
push you over the side. It’s quite a drop.”

Her eyes widened, she tried
to stamp on his toes and bite his fingers, but he clamped her jaw shut and
hardened his grip. She kept on wriggling, but when her face went pink, he
released his hand for a moment allowing her to gasp for air.

“You need me as much as I
need you,’she said between breaths.

“How?”

“To read your damn treasure
book.”

“Don’t actually. We’ve got a
monk.”

Something flickered in her
eyes. Redknee wasn’t sure what. Jealousy? He tightened his hand over her mouth
and whispered into her ear. “Now,” he said. “Do you vow to stay quiet?”

She nodded slowly and he
released his grip.

“I don’t know why you want to
come with me anyway. Uncle Sven will have you whipped for giving Mord the
book.”

“And wouldn’t you like that?”
she asked, anger flashing in her eyes. “But you’re wrong, because I know
something about the
Codex
Sven doesn’t.”

“Well, I hope for your sake
you’re right. Otherwise you can wipe that stupid grin off your face.”

“It has to do with King Hakon
– he’s dying.”

“What do I care about King
Hakon’s health?”

“You should, it’s why he
wants the book.”

“So? I’m fed up with talk
about this book. I’m with Olaf. I think we should go home.”

Sinead smirked. “Just shows
how little you know. I also heard Ragnar mention your father.”

“What did he say – tell me!”

“Got you interested now,” she
said, a smile tugging on her lips. “Take me to Sven and I’ll tell you what I
know about Erik Kodranson and the
Codex Hibernia
.” Then she turned from
him, sashayed across the deck, picked up an oar, slid it through one of the
ports in the side of the hull and sat down, ready to row.

Redknee sighed. “We need to
wait for Olvir.”

“The scraggy blond boy with
the sheep?”

“How—”

“You’ll be waiting some
time.”

“Did they get him?” he asked,
panic in his voice.

“He’s run away.”

“Never . . .”

“The boy’s a coward … now,
are we going?”

“I already said—”

“If we don’t go, Mord and
Toki will be back. Wasn’t this your plan?”

“Yes… but I thought I could
sail it.”

“In these conditions?” She
tilted her face towards the rising sun, the rose-hued dawn illuminating her
pale cheeks.

He shook his head. She was
really annoying him. He wished she’d stayed put. If he’d wanted her help, he
would’ve wakened her. Why’d she have to be so damn … contrary? And now this
story about his father; he could swear she was toying with him.

He sighed. “You sure Olvir’s
gone?”

She nodded vigorously.

Shoulders sagging with
defeat, he picked up an oar and slid it through the oarport opposite Sinead.

“Pull when I say. It’s important
we go together.”

“Aye, captain!” She winked at
him then stared forward, a look of mock seriousness on her face.

He gave the order and they
pulled together, dipping their oars into the water just enough to move them
away from the beach.

“The wind will pick up once
we leave the bay,” he said, glancing over to the spot between the dunes where
he’d last seen Mord and Toki. They would be back soon. It wouldn’t take them
long to realise the sheep were a diversion. He willed the black ship to move
faster – but it crept on slowly under their scant power, carried as much by the
ebbing tide as their effort – while his heart raced like a startled deer.
Nothing but a great burst of wind would give them the speed they needed.
Eventually they drew level with the high rocks marking the exit to the bay.

“We’re nearly there,” Sinead
said.

“Just keep rowing!”

Before she could answer, a
figure dropped from the rocks above onto the deck with a heavy thud. Redknee
leapt to his feet as Toki staggered upright. Blood seeped from a gash in the
giant’s right arm and he was wheezing, breathless. Redknee eyed him warily. He
seemed to have lost his sword.

Redknee grabbed his oar and
held it across his chest. “Run,” he said to Sinead. She nodded, hurrying
towards the stern.

“Naughty pup,” Toki said,
wagging his finger. “Didn’t your mother tell you stealing is wrong?”

“Ragnar
killed
my
mother,” Redknee said, charging.

As Toki ran forward to meet
him, a second figure dropped onto the deck. The movement distracted Toki, and
as he turned his head, Redknee smacked the flat of the oar into his skull.
Redknee wheeled round, ready to fight the second man. It was only when the
newcomer started tearing into Toki that he realised it was Olvir.