Viking Gold (20 page)

“By Odin’s eye,” Ulfsson
shouted. “That’s not ale – it’s piss!”

The stranger wiped the
foul-smelling liquid from his face, drew back his fist and punched Ulfsson
square on the nose. Ulfsson staggered back into a table of drunken sailors. The
biggest of them leapt to his feet and took a swing at Astrid’s suitor. A moment
later men from two other tables joined in. Soon the whole bar had erupted.
Astrid and Redknee stood with their backs to the wall as stools and tables flew
about in front of them. There was no way they could make it through the mêlée
to the door without being floored, or killed.

Redknee felt a sharp tug on
the hem of his tunic. He looked down to see the small boy who had found
Ulfsson. The boy motioned for them to follow him. He led them out through a
back door. When they reached the front of the longhouse, the fighting had
spilled outside. Ulfsson lay on the ground, his head split open. Redknee stared
at his body in horror. He might have been a deluded liar, but there was so much
Redknee had wanted to ask him.

“We’re
here,” Astrid said, sliding off her horse and looping its reins over a jagged
black rock.

Redknee blinked. He’d never
seen anything like it before. Steam rose in great white clouds from a lake of
the palest milky blue.

“Come on,” Astrid said,
slipping her tabard over her head. “Don’t tell me you can’t swim.”

Redknee dismounted and kicked
off his boots. The sharp rocks cut into his feet.

Astrid was already at the
water’s edge wearing only her under-dress. “Turn round,” she said.

“What?” Redknee asked,
confused.

“You can’t expect me to
disrobe with you watching.”

Redknee blushed and turned
his back. How long should he give her? He bit his lip. If he turned round too
soon …

“Alright,” Astrid shouted.

He spun round. She was
submerged up to her neck. Her pale hair dark with water. Disappointment coursed
through him. He rebuked himself. What had he expected?

“Aren’t you coming in?”
Astrid’s voice interrupted his thoughts.

He quickly shrugged off his
tunic and threw it over a rock. But when he reached down to untie his breeches,
he froze, suddenly unsure what to do. Should he keep them on? He glanced up at
Astrid. She was swimming further into the lake, her back to the shore.

Damn. It was his decision.

Leaving
his breeches on, he hopped over the sharp rocks and submerged himself slowly
beneath the warm waters. Every muscle in his body relaxed. Astrid had been
right; this was a truly wonderful place.

She had swum almost to the
centre of the small lake and he started to swim after her. She was treading
water when he reached her.

“You decided to join me after
all,” she said.

“Why are we here?” he
asked.  

She
raised an eyebrow.

“I’m being serious. Why did
you bring me to meet Ulfsson? What does your husband’s voyage, and the
ramblings of a mad man, have to do with me?”

She dipped her head below the
surface and rose with water spouting from her mouth. “Kiss me,” she said.

She was playing games. It
felt dangerous.

Good dangerous, or bad
dangerous?
He didn’t know. She looked
up at him with her clear, blue eyes and, before he could change his mind, he was
leaning forward.

Astrid giggled. “Follow me,”
she said, turning and diving beneath the surface.

Taking a deep breath, he
plunged after her, kicking as hard as he could. Astrid’s dark shape snaked
through the milky waters. Eventually she surfaced, and Redknee followed, his
lungs gasping for air. She laughed, water streaming down her face. “You swim
well,” she said.

He looked round nervously.
She’d led him out deeper still. Past a small island made of the brittle black
stone that seemed to cover
Iceland
. “What do you want?” he asked.

She circled him slowly, her
skin glistening in the strange light. “Why do you think I want anything in
particular?” she asked.

He shrugged. “I don’t, I just
thought …”

“I’m going to tell you a
story,” she said, winding her hair into a knot on top of her head. Myriad
droplets streamed across her neck and shoulders. He looked away. “Do I
displease you?” she asked.

He shook his head. His tongue
felt weak, like soggy bread. He doubted his ability to speak.

“I needed you to hear Ulfsson’s
tale so you didn’t think me mad. It’s a shame he was killed in that brawl. He
could have been useful to us.” She tilted her head thoughtfully to one side.
“No matter, we shall do without him - back to my story. Not long after I was
married to Gunnar, a ship arrived here in
Reykjavik
, carrying a band of Norse warriors much like yourself.
They came seeking a great treasure. A treasure said to be worth more than all
the gold in
Byzantium
. They knew this treasure existed because, they said,
it was spoken of in a famous book – a book written by monks. They also had a
scribe with them, a hermit monk, I think. He’d studied this book well. He said
it spoke of the treasure being hidden in a vast land to the west. He called it
the Promised Land.

“Naturally, my husband’s
interest was aroused. He asked if he could join them on their quest. They said
any strong, honest man was welcome to throw his lot in with theirs. He sailed
with them on midsummer, taking two ships and more than seventy of our best men
with him. That was two years ago.”

Redknee listened to her tale
in silence. The book she spoke of had to be the
Codex Hibernia
. But was
it too much of a coincidence?

“You look pale, like you’ve
seen a ghost.”

“These men, these Norse
warriors that came to
Reykjavik
; was one of them called Erik Kodranson? Their leader
perhaps?”

Astrid shook her head. “I
don’t remember that name. But there were quite a number of them. Why do you
ask?”

“I think,” Redknee said, his
voice growing hoarse. “I think one of them was my father.”

“They say my husband is dead.
But I don’t believe it,” Astrid said. “I will help you find your father if you
will help me find my husband.”

“How can I do that?” Redknee
asked.

“I want to go west with you.
Will you take me?”

“I’m afraid it’s not up to
me. You would have to ask my uncle. He isn’t keen on having women on the ship.”

“Pah! My mother went with you
– and there’s that slave girl. And the coarse one, the wife of your
blacksmith.”

“Thora,” Redknee provided.

“If you say so, come on.”
Astrid said, smiling again. “It’ll be fun. We’d be a team. And who knows, we
might even find this treasure for ourselves!”

“I’ll ask my uncle,” Redknee
said. “But I can’t promise—”

“Oh, by Thor’s hammer, I’ve seen
the way your uncle treats you. Like a son. He’ll grant you this request. Now,
come on, I’ll race you to the shore.”

As Redknee followed her
retreating figure, he wondered just what, exactly, he had promised to do.

Astrid
laid on a magnificent feast for them in her longhouse that night. Having had
his fill of meat and preposterous stories, Redknee had escaped outside with
Silver. He was planning which direction to take his walk: along the beach or
into the town, when Sinead caught up with him.

“You disappeared this
afternoon,” she said. Her cheeks were flushed, and her auburn curls were
escaping from beneath her linen cap.

“I was with Astrid.”

“Oh
, right.
”

“Why do you ask?”

“I wanted to speak to you
about Brother Alfred. I can’t believe they’re going to execute him by
blood
eagle
,” she said, her voice shaking.

Redknee had never seen anyone
actually killed this way. But he knew the method. First, they opened the
victim’s back and cut the ribs away from the spine with a sharp sword, fanning them
out so they resembled the blood-stained wings of an eagle. Then they fished out
the lungs and placed them on the victim’s chest for the birds to eat while the
still conscious victim watched in horror. It usually took several hours for the
man to die.

It was a torture of last
resort – reserved for those guilty of the worst crimes. It surprised him they
were going to use this most heinous of devices for Brother Alfred. The fire
hadn’t even killed anyone.

“It’s harsh. But it’s not my
problem,” Redknee said. “Aren’t they giving him the benefit of a trial at the
All-thing tomorrow?”

“Matilda is baying for his
blood. Do you really think he’ll get a fair hearing?”

“I don’t know Sinead? What’s
fair? Was it fair that you helped Mord slaughter my village
?
”

She blanched. “You know I
gave Mord the book
to
stop
the killing.”

“I’ve been thinking. How did
you know where the
Codex
was hidden?”

“I looked for it – like I
said I would. Found it hidden beneath the old loom in the weaving hut. Most
likely your uncle, being a man, didn’t know the women used that space to keep
spare scraps of fabric. There are lots of things us women know that pass you
men-folk by.”

A group of drunken men
spilled out of the longhouse. Olaf, Magnus and the Bjornsson twins were among
them. They disappeared between the buildings, returning moments later with a
mangy chestnut stallion.

“They’re too drunk to ride,”
Sinead said.

Redknee shrugged. “If they
want to break their necks, I’m not going to stop them.”

The drunks formed a circle.

“You’d better stand back!”
Magnus shouted cheerily. “That is, if you value your skulls in one piece.”

Redknee and Sinead moved away
as Olaf led the stallion into the ring. Scars criss-crossed its mud-spattered
coat. Seeing the small crowd, the horse snorted, drew back its lips and sunk
its teeth into Olaf’s hand.

“By Odin’s eye!” he cursed,
smashing his fist into the soft, pink tip of its nose. The horse staggered, its
hooves skidding in the mud. It took a couple of juddery steps to regain its
balance. But as soon as it did, Olaf dragged it back to the middle of the
circle. Olaf’s blow had angered the creature; rage glittered in its eyes as it
pawed the ground.

“What’s happening?” Sinead
asked.

“Don’t know,” Redknee said as
one of Astrid’s men led a grey stallion, a hand or so smaller, towards the
chestnut. “I think they’re going to make the horses fight.”

The grey’s eyes shone with
fear as it whinnied and tried to back away. But its handler dragged it by its
mane until it cowered before the big chestnut. The crowd had swollen to more
than forty. Voices clamoured for attention as one of Astrid’s men took bets.
       

“Talking about the book,”
Redknee shouted above the noise. “Have you been able to get a look at it? See
if what Brother Alfred said about the Promised Land is true?”

Sinead shook her head. “Your
uncle has kept it locked away on
Wavedancer
, guarded by the Bjornsson
twins. I don’t know how I’m supposed to get a look at it when you’re flouncing
about with that snooty cow. I need your help.”

“I’m sure my uncle will ask
you to read from the
Codex
soon. Besides,” Redknee said, pulling Sinead
to one side so they were standing on the fringes of the crowd, “I was making
good use of my time. I found out valuable information from Astrid. Two years ago
a ship of Northmen came here searching for the Promised Land. They even spoke
of a book. Astrid’s husband left with them.”

“So?” Sinead said. “We know
Ragnar wants this treasure, why not others?”

“Because I think one of those
men could have been my father.”

A
weary sort of sympathy flashed across Sinead’s face.

“
Oh Redknee
,” she
sighed. At that same moment, a hush came over the crowd. All bets had been
placed. Harold rushed out, made a line in the mud with his dagger, and
retreated. A whip cracked through the air and both horses reared, their
powerful front legs clattering together mid-air.

Sinead looked away. “I can’t
watch this.” She turned to go then paused, laying a hand on Redknee’s sleeve.
“I know you want to believe your father is still alive,” she said softly. “And
I know I fed that desire when I told you Ragnar spoke of a connection between
your father and the book – that he’d owned it at some point. I regret that now.
It was just idle talk. Even if there was some link, your father is dead, Redknee.
He’s been dead to you for years.” Then she disappeared into the crowd, taking
Silver with her.

Redknee stayed a few moments
longer. Perhaps Sinead was right. Certainly, if his father
was
alive,
he’d abandoned his mother to raise a baby on her own, hardly the act of a hero.
He pushed the thought from his mind. That he would find his father had been his
mother’s dying wish. A wish he would honour.