Viking Gold (21 page)

He watched as the chestnut
snapped at the grey’s ears; blood spurted across the smaller horse’s flanks
onto the ground. The crowd roared. Harold was at the front, urging the chestnut
on, his face delirious with pleasure. Redknee sensed something different about
Harold.

The cross in the mud. What a
clean cut his dagger had made. That ivory handle was Harold’s pride and joy, he
was always cleaning it. But now, it looked dirty, black.
The dagger.
That was it!

He turned and pushed through
the crowd after Sinead. She had been right about Brother Alfred’s innocence
after all.

“Redknee!” He heard someone
call his name.

He looked round to see Ivar
waving to him from the door of the longhouse. Damn. He had to find Sinead
quick.

“Come here, lad,” Ivar
shouted. “I’ve something for you.”

Redknee sighed and crossed
the yard. Sinead and Brother Alfred would have to wait. Ivar beckoned him
inside the longhouse, which was eerily quiet with all the men outside watching
the horse fight.

“Remember I told you that
your mother lived with us for a few months before you were born?”

Redknee nodded.

“Well, she was a very skilled
craftswoman. She made many beautiful gifts for us.” Ivar had crossed the room
and was looking inside a big linen chest. He brought out a yellowed square of
cloth and held it to the light. “I think this is it,” he said squinting. “Yes,
superb workmanship.” He looked up at Redknee. “Come here lad, and see for
yourself.”

Redknee went over to him and
took the cloth. True enough, the embroidery was exquisite. A border of white
snowdrops encircled a rather self-satisfied looking unicorn. Above the unicorn
were five ivy leaves picked out in gold thread. It looked exactly like the page
from the
Codex
that had so beguiled Redknee just days before.

He couldn’t believe it. His
brain struggled to digest its import. After a long moment, he glanced up at Ivar
who looked pleased with himself, and a bit drunk.

“This embroidery,” Redknee
said, his voice shaking with incredulity. “It was made by my mother before I
was born?”

Ivar nodded. “She finished it
while she was, you know, expecting you.”

Redknee stared at the cloth
again. It was fine, soft linen, perfect for covering a small table, or adorning
the cradle of a newborn. If his mother had sewn this design, it meant she must
have seen the
Codex
– been familiar with the image of the unicorn. And
if she’d spent the time embroidering this image, there must have been a reason.
It must have been important to her.

However he looked at it, this
scrap of cloth was proof of his family’s connection to the
Codex
. And it
began before he was born.  

“Thanks,” he said to Ivar.
“This means more to me than you can know.”

He turned and ran from the
longhouse. Sven claimed the
Codex
had been given to him only last month,
by an old merchant in Kaupangen. Claimed that it was the first time he’d seen
it. Redknee now knew he had lied.
But why?
He had to find his uncle and
make him speak the truth.

He
found Sinead at a jewellery stall. Some of the local merchants, sensing an
opportunity, had brought their wares out for the visitors. Sinead picked a soapstone
cross and tied it round her neck.

“The green complements your
eyes,” the stallholder said.

Redknee came upon her quickly
and he saw a flash of embarrassment on her face.

“Have you seen my uncle?” he
asked. “I must speak to him.”

Sinead hurriedly untied the
pendant. “No,” she said. “I was just going to visit Brother Alfred. Will you
come with me?”

Damn. He wanted to speak to
his uncle right now.

“Please,” Sinead said. “He’s
innocent and he needs our help. Time is running out.”

Redknee sighed. His uncle
could wait. “Where are they keeping him?” he asked.

“He’s in the barn with Toki.
Does this mean you’ll come?”

“It’s no favour,” Redknee
said. “I’ve seen something that could save his life and make mine a lot
easier.”

“Well then,” Sinead said
smiling. “There’s no time to lose.”

They pushed through the
crowd, past four burly men carrying away the grey’s broken corpse. Magnus and
Olaf were collecting their winnings. Magnus waved as they passed, both he and
Olaf were splattered with blood. Not for the first time, Redknee shuddered at
the fine line between life and death.

Sinead averted her gaze and
hugged Silver close. He curled his lips and growled at the smell of the blood.

“Shh, little one,” she said, then
turned to Redknee, a look of disgust in her eyes. “How can men be so cruel?”
she asked.

A man led another horse past
them, towards the big chestnut killer. Redknee shrugged. “They’re worse to
people. At least they don’t subject horses to
blood eagle
.”

Sinead shook her head and
started walking towards the barn. “When I became a Christian I thought I was
entering a kinder world. But one day, when I was at the monastery, I heard the
local Bishop condemn an old woman to death.  She was burned as a witch;
the villagers claimed she’d summoned the devil to blight their crops.”

“Maybe she did. Brother
Alfred believes this Christian devil is powerful.”

She sighed. “It was no
coincidence the old woman owned rich land next to the Bishop’s farm.” She
paused beside the barn door. “This Promised Land your uncle seeks …”

“Yes?” Redknee asked.

Her voice hardened. “I go
there not as a slave, but as an equal.”

“My uncle has already
promised you freedom, if we find it.”

She smiled. “I should know
better than to trust a Northman. Now,” she said, motioning to Silver to wait
outside, then pushing the barn door open. “Tell me what you know.”

Someone
was already visiting the prisoners in the barn. Whoever he was, he didn’t see
them enter.

“Who is it?” Sinead
whispered.

“Shhh,” Redknee said, holding
a finger to his mouth. He peered through the darkness. The man stood at the far
end of the barn with the prisoners, the hood of his cloak masking his face.
Brother Alfred and Toki sat tied back to back against an oak pillar.

“I can’t see. Let’s wait there,”
Redknee said, pointing towards an empty stall. They crouched down in the wet
hay and waited, putting the stink of manure from their minds.

The visitor spoke. “I know
you understand the book. Tell me what it means or you’ll feel my boot in your
face.” His voice was so low as to be unrecognisable.

“Bless you,” Brother Alfred
said. “For you know only violence.”

“Don’t try me, monk,” the man
said, and began pacing up and down the barn, cursing under his breath. “Look, I
know you’re lying. You’ll be dead by sunset tomorrow, unless you tell me. Come
on …
talk
. Are you protecting someone?”

Brother Alfred stayed silent
this time. Presumably afraid of a boot in his face.

“Is it the Irish girl?” the visitor
asked. “I know there’s a traitor. There must be, Ragnar’s attack was too much
of a coincidence. It could be her. You’re close to her, you would know. And by
Odin’s eye I’ve never liked Christians.”

No answer.

The visitor sighed. “I see
I’m wasting my time. I’m going to go. Give you time to think. But I’ll be back
soon. If you have any sense, any at all, you’ll make the right choice. Just
think … we could do this together. You and me. Split the treasure between us.
Forget the rest of those fools. I’ll leave you now, but when I return, I expect
you’ll crow like a cockerel on the first day of spring.”

Redknee and Sinead huddled in
the shadows as the visitor swept past them. The barn door opened and Redknee
caught a glimpse of the visitor in the moonlight. He didn’t need a second look
to recognise the battleaxe at his belt.

It was Uncle Sven.

Redknee
and Sinead sat in the dark for some time, afraid to move in case the visitor
returned. He didn’t think Sinead had recognised his uncle, and he wasn’t about
to tell her. Besides, she had some answering of her own to do.

“Do you think I’m a traitor?”
she asked, so quietly he almost thought he hadn’t heard.

“Someone does,” he replied.

“Do you?”

“Honestly?” he said. “I don’t
know. I’m not even sure I know what the word means anymore.”

“Right. Well I’m not. Just
because I’m different, it doesn’t mean I can’t be trusted.”

“I agree,” Redknee said.

“Do you think it’s safe for
us to move now?”

“Yes. The longer we leave it,
the sooner he’s coming back. And I don’t think we should be found here.”

They crawled over to the
prisoners. Brother Alfred had a burst lip and black eye. Sinead swooped down on
him and began dabbing at his cuts with the edge of her apron. “Oh, what have
they done to you?” she said, tears springing to her eyes.

In contrast, Toki looked
well, the wounds from his fight with Redknee and Olvir nearly healed. His lips
curled into a grin at the sight of Sinead’s ministrations. “Is it my turn
next?” he asked, a mischievous glint in his eye. “A man could get used to that
kind of treatment.”

“Be quiet,” Redknee said,
kicking dust in Toki’s face. “I don’t know what you’re smiling about. You’ll be
next.”

Toki grinned, flashing a row
of coal black teeth. “If you say so,
Master
.”

Redknee ignored him and knelt
beside Brother Alfred. “I’ve information that will save your life.”

“Brother Alfred looked
piously towards the roof. “My life is but God’s to save,” he said, then
refocussed on Redknee. “But I’m listening to what you’ve got to say.”

“Courage deserted you, little
monk?” Toki asked. “Where’s your God now?”

“I’ve already told you to be
quiet,” Redknee said. He turned back to Brother Alfred. “You didn’t cause the
fire at Ivar’s farm. But you knew who did, and yet you said nothing. Why?”

The monk looked thoughtful
for a moment. “I wanted the person responsible to come forward on his own.”

“I know him, and he won’t,”
Redknee said. “But worse than that, this person you’ve protected – he’s
dangerous. I think he could do it again.”

“You really know who did it?”
Sinead asked.

“I should’ve realised
earlier,” Redknee said. “The first clue should have been the events of that
night. Harold’s behaviour was strange. But that wasn’t enough in itself. His
precious dagger gave him away; the one with the ivory handle. When he brought
it out to cut the centre mark at the start of the horse fight, I saw the hilt
was black, like it had been dropped in a fire.”

Brother Alfred nodded
solemnly. “I came across the boy sharpening his dagger in the grain store. I told
him, one spark in that place and the whole farm would go up in flames. But he
didn’t listen to me. It was like he was under a spell. He was talking to
someone who wasn’t there, a girl I think. Yes, that’s right, the name he said,
over and over, was Aud.”

“Aud was his sister,” Redknee
said.

Sinead let out a long, low
whistle. “We have to tell someone.”

“Who would believe you?”
Brother Alfred asked. “Everyone is convinced I’m to blame.”

“We can’t confront Harold on
our own,” Sinead said. “He’d deny it. We have to go straight to your uncle.
Ivar’s judgment is clouded by Matilda’s anger.”

Toki snorted. “You think Sven
Kodranson will treat the monk fairly?”

“Stop listening,” Redknee
snapped. “This is no concern of yours.” But he feared Toki uttered the truth.

He spoke to Sinead in a low
voice. “I don’t think we can go to my uncle on this one. It wasn’t his farm,
it’s not his decision. He won’t want to tread on Ivar’s toes.”

“Then
what
?” Sinead
asked.

“We confront Harold
ourselves. But first, we need to get a promise from Brother Alfred.”

“What can you mean?” the
little monk asked. 

“Tell him, Sinead.”

“I don’t understand,” she
said.

Redknee stood. “It’s quite
simple really. Sinead thinks you’re not actually reading from the
Codex
.
So, if we do this to help you, we want your word that you will read from the
book truthfully.”

Brother Alfred nodded
furiously. “Yes …
yes
… ” he said. “I give my word.”

Before
he lost his nerve, Redknee dragged Sinead from the barn. Outside, the
festivities were still in full swing. Silver hadn’t waited as asked. The daft
pup was probably trying to catch gulls on the beach. They had no time to look
for him. The crowd had grown bored of the horse fighting and were shouting at
two youths wrestling. Olvir called to them as they pushed through the
revellers.