Viking Gold (19 page)

Eventually he said, “I left
my dirty clothes on the floor.” He knew he’d said the wrong thing as soon as
the words left his mouth.

“Oh,” she said, her mouth
puckering with distaste. “I’ll get one of the slaves to wash them.” She sat up
then, and the moment was broken.

“Aren’t you worried about the
volcano?” he asked.

“Oh … that!
Mount
Hekla
is
always blowing off. We don’t bother about it at all. The bile from her guts
feeds our crops. Makes them grow strong. Frey treats our farmers well – gifting
us the earth’s own gold. As long as we keep him happy, that is.”

“You’re lucky. In my
experience, Frey is a fickle god, difficult to please. The crops were dying in
my village, yet Frey did nothing. We must have offended him, but we don’t know
why.”

 Astrid tilted her head
thoughtfully. “Here, we are careful to always keep Frey …” she paused, seeking
the right word, “…
satisfied
.”

The
door opened and a blade of yellow light severed the gloom. Ivar and Matilda stomped
in followed by Uncle Sven and Sinead.

Matilda went straight to the
fire and started turning her meaty arms over the cinders like roasting hogs.
“This is no good,” she scolded her daughter. “You must have a proper fire.”

Astrid rolled her eyes and turned
away from her mother to where Ivar and Sven had settled themselves at the
wooden table that ran the length of the room. “There is mead in that pitcher,”
she said, pointing to a big jug sitting on the table.

“Thanks,” Ivar said, and
began pouring. “Would you like some, darling?” he asked Matilda.

Matilda grunted.

“We’ll have food soon, dear,”
Ivar said. “I know you’re starving.”

Redknee noticed Sinead
hanging back in the doorway.

Astrid spotted her too and
scowled. “What’s that slave doing here?” she demanded.  

Sinead turned the colour of
raw beetroot.

Redknee shifted awkwardly on
the edge of the bed. Suddenly he didn’t want Sinead here, talking about the
stupid monk, spoiling things for him.

“Oh, her?” he said
carelessly. “She can sleep in the barn—”

Uncle Sven cut him off. “This
is Sinead. Our house-slave. We take her everywhere.”

Astrid pursed her lips.
“Well, it’s most irregular to have a slave sleeping in the jarl’s house. My
husband will not be pleased.” She held out a basket of bread. “The slave will
have to make herself useful. She can start by serving this.”

Sinead looked at Uncle Sven.
He nodded and she scurried forward, head bowed, and proceeded to offer the
basket round the small group. As she passed Matilda, Redknee saw the older woman
stick a fat ankle under Sinead’s feet. She stumbled, jarring her knee. Ashamed,
he avoided Sinead’s eye when she served him.

“We won’t impose on your
hospitality for long,” Uncle Sven said, biting down on a chunk of black bread.
“We’ll be away in a couple of days.”

“Where are you going?” Astrid
asked. “Your son told me you offended Frey.”

Sven flushed. “
My nephew,”
he corrected.

Redknee blushed too. He
supposed he did have the same colouring as his uncle. It wasn’t a difficult
mistake to make.

“You are right about one
thing, Astrid,” Sven continued. “We must have offended Frey because the rains
didn’t come this spring and the wheat turned to dust before mid-summer.” Sven
went on to explain about Ragnar’s attack and the promises made in the
Codex
.
“So,” he said finally, “we’re going to find Saint Brendan’s treasure, and, we
hope, a new place to live.”

“How exciting,” Astrid said.
“My husband is on a voyage of discovery too. He’s gone to a beautiful island to
the west called
Greenland
. Have you heard of it?”

Sven shook his head.

“
Crystal
waterfalls feed valleys overflowing with golden corn, and animals so fat they
can’t walk. The sun bathes the fields in honey and the rain falls soft as a
baby’s feet. It’s a renowned paradise.” Astrid’s face glowed with excitement as
she described
Greenland
.

The description bore some
resemblance to the descriptions of the Promised Land in the
Codex
. But
Redknee decided to stay silent.

Matilda stirred beside the
fire. “Enough of that crazy talk, daughter. Your husband’s not coming back.”

Astrid jumped to her feet,
spilling her food on the floor. “That’s a lie!” she said, tears pricking her
eyes. “Gunnar
is
coming back for me. And he’s going to make me Queen of
Greenland.” With this, Astrid turned and ran out of the house.

Redknee jumped to his feet,
ready to go after her.

“I wouldn’t do that, lad.”
Ivar said. “Our daughter’s always been a bit weepy. She’ll be back soon
enough.”

Redknee hovered, unsure what
to do. Uncle Sven motioned for him to sit down. Reluctantly, he sank back onto
the bed, watching dumbly as Sinead picked the spilled food off the floor.

“We’ll execute Brother Alfred
tomorrow,” Matilda said, picking seeds from her teeth. “By
blood eagle
,
I should think.”

Everyone
nodded; everyone except Sinead who had become absolutely still.

Blood eagle
was the most horrific method of death known.

Astrid
returned that afternoon in a better mood. “I want to go to the
hot springs
,”
she said to Redknee. “They’re just outside
Reykjavik
. Won’t you come with me? Be my protector?”

Uncertain, Redknee looked to
his uncle.

“Don’t look at me, lad.” he
said. “I’ll be spending the afternoon buying supplies and making repairs to
Wavedancer
.
The pup can keep me company. I don’t need you here.”

The
road to the
hot springs
wound round the side of the volcano. Ash peppered the
sky. Redknee tied his scarf over his face to block out the stench of sulphur.
The soil here was black. His old nag nearly unseated him each time she stopped
to chew on the stunted shrubs that clung to the desolate slopes.

“Give her a good kick the
next time she does that,” Astrid grinned down at him from her sleek grey mare.

Redknee grunted. They rode on
in silence. Why had she chosen him to accompany her? Couldn’t be for protection.
There were plenty of bigger, stronger men. Besides, she had her own guards. Why
not bring one of them? He opened his mouth to ask, when Astrid turned her horse
into the yard of a neat looking longhouse and dismounted.

“I thought we were going to
the
hot springs
,” Redknee said.

Astrid smiled. “We are. But I
wanted to bring you here first.”

Redknee glanced round.
Several horses were tied to a bridle post, their masters obviously inside.
“What is this place?”

“It’s a tavern.”

His uncle had warned him
about taverns. He hadn’t been allowed inside the taverns the time they went to
Hedeby. “Dens of liars and pickpockets,” Uncle Sven had said. Then he’d left
Redknee outside while he went in to complete his business.

“What’s wrong?” Astrid asked.
“Never been inside a tavern before?”

“Of course I have,” Redknee
mumbled.

Warm air, carrying with it
the smell of good ale, roast meat and sweaty bodies greeted them as they
entered the tavern. “Let’s find a table,” Astrid called above the noise. They
pushed past several groups of men before they found a small table at the back
of the room. Redknee noticed more than one set of eyes turning to stare. Apart
from the serving maids, Astrid was the only woman.

“Is this a good idea?”
Redknee asked in a low voice. “I mean, is it safe for —”

“Oh, don’t be such an old
goose. I’ve been here before. Most of these men know who I am.”

Redknee relaxed. He didn’t
fancy fighting off any of these brutes. A girl with straggly hair and broken
teeth came over.

Astrid put a coin on the
table. “Two ales, wench.  And be quick about it.”

The girl put the coin in her
pocket without saying anything and left. She returned a few moments later with
two wooden tankards filled to the brim, handing Astrid’s to her carefully, and
plonking Redknee’s on the table.

Redknee took a careful sip.
He hadn’t had ale before.

“How does it taste?” Astrid
asked.

“Good – sweet.”

Astrid’s ale sat untouched in
front of her.

“Aren’t you drinking yours?”
he asked.

“Later, I have to find
someone first.” Astrid stood and waved to a small boy sitting near them on the
floor. The boy hurried over. He was barefoot and dressed in rags. Astrid
whispered something in his ear. The boy looked doubtful. “There’s a coin in it
for you,” she said, loud enough for Redknee to hear.

The boy nodded and scurried
away.

“What was that about?”
Redknee asked.

“He’s going to find the man
I’m looking for.”

“You don’t know him?” Redknee
asked, surprised. “We’re meeting a stranger?”

“Not exactly, it’s someone I
used to know. But before we meet him … before
you
meet him, I need to
know I can trust you. So can I? Trust you, that is.”

Redknee stared into his
tankard. “I suppose you can. Though it depends what you mean. I won’t have to
do anything, will I?”

Astrid laughed. “So gallant!”

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

“No,” Astrid said. “You won’t
have
to do anything. But I think you’ll be interested – really
interested in what Ulfsson has to say.”

The small boy returned and
held his hand out for the coin.

“Where is he?” Astrid asked.

The boy jabbed a dirty finger
over his shoulder. Behind him, in the shadows cast by the whale oil lamps, was
the outline of a tall, thin man with long dark hair. Astrid gave the boy the
coin and shooed him away.

The man stepped into the
light. Although he was tall and well built, his face was hollow and his skin
hung loose on his bones. He looked haunted. 

“Please,” Astrid said,
pushing her ale across the table. “Sit down. Drink.” There was a spare stool at
their table and the man took it. Astrid continued. “This is Redknee,” she said.
“He’s a friend of mine. He can be trusted.”

The man nodded, but his eyes
kept darting round the room, as if afraid others might be listening.

Astrid went on. “I want you
to tell him what you told me. I want you to tell him why my husband might still
be alive, and why it’s worth my while looking for him.”

Redknee stood. “You don’t
need to tell me this. I believe you. It’s your mother who needs convincing.”

“Sit down,” Astrid said.
“You’re being a fool. This will interest you. I promise.” Reluctantly, he did
as she asked.

Ulfsson spoke quietly. “It
began two years ago. Astrid’s husband here, Jarl Gunnar – we called him Gunnar
the Sailor – heard tales of a land far to the west where there was treasure to
be had, and easy living. He got a couple of ships together and enough men to
sail them; promised us all great riches if we found this place.
Greenland
, he
called it.”

Redknee
sat up. This bore a close resemblance to the stories in the
Codex
. “Did
you?” he asked, excitement in his voice. “Did you find this
Greenland
?”

Ulfsson slumped in his seat.
“We found no land matching that description. We did find a vast island, rich in
soil and rain, but populated by fearless warriors who can vanish and re-appear
at will.”

Redknee let out a snort.

“What?” Ulfsson asked. “You
doubt me?”

“Vanish and re-appear at
will,” Redknee said incredulously. “You expect us to believe you?”

Ulfsson shrugged and
continued. “We left
Reykjavik
on a fine spring morning with two ships and more than
seventy men.
Fighting men
. Of those seventy, only myself and Jarl Gunnar
remain.”

“Really? And how is that?”
Redknee asked.

“I was lucky. I caught a
fever. The others left me to die. But I recovered and made my escape on one of our
abandoned longships.”

“And what of Jarl Gunnar?”
Redknee asked.

“That’s easy,” Ulfsson said.
“
He
went native.”

The men at the next table had
stopped playing their game of dice. One of them stood and came over. He put his
hand on Astrid’s shoulder. “That husband of yours not coming back?” he asked.

Astrid frowned and tried to
remove his hand, but he just tightened his grip and leaned in so that his
wine-stained lips nearly touched hers. Astrid tried to twist her head away, but
he only leaned in further. Ulfsson chose this moment to taste his ale. A moment
later, he was on his feet, yellow liquid shooting from his mouth, spraying the leery
stranger in the face.