Viking Gold (43 page)

“The abbot cried for them to
wait – he feared he and his servants would be killed if they waited for the next
longship of Northmen to descend. Sigurd called over his shoulder that they
could come,
if
they could keep up.

“The brothers escaped the
island just as their friend rounded the headland. Their men were bitter about
the lack of ‘real’ treasure, as they put it, and the brothers knew they would
have to find a buyer for the book, and quickly. Einnear volunteered to take it
to the great market town of Kaupangen to see if he could sell it. True to his
word, Sigurd did not kill the abbot or those of his servants who had made it
onto their longship. Instead, he allowed Einnear to take them to Kaupangen to
be sold as slaves.”

“Double-crossing liar,”
Sinead said, jumping from her seat.

“How so?” Toki shot back.
“His promise was merely to allow them to live.”

“It’s true,” Redknee
whispered to her.

Sinead harrumphed and sat
down.

Toki continued. “When Einnear
returned from Kaupangen, he said no one would buy it, as they could not read
the Irish runes.”

“Pigfarts,” Koll said.
“That’s a pigfart of a story.”

“Yes,” Harold said grinding
his eating knife into a piece of venison. “Nothing’s happened. Where’s the
betrayal?”

“They betrayed their friend,”
Sinead said.

Toki smiled. “That’s just the
background. I’m getting to the good bit
now
.”

“I need more food,” Koll said,
rising and stumbling towards the table. “Who are these brothers anyway? This
book they found – it’s not the
Codex
, is it?”

“It matters not.” Toki said.
“The point of the story lies elsewhere.”

Olaf shifted uneasily, one
hand on the hilt of his dagger. “Come now Toki,” he said, “you’ve gone far
enough with this nonsense.”

Toki shook his head. “This is
a good story. They need to hear it. Now,” he cleared his throat,“ it so
happened that, in a way, the abbot’s prophecy came true. Einnear became
obsessed with the book. Just like the monks before him, he would stay up late
every night pouring over the strange Irish runes, neglecting his duties as
jarl. One day Einnear said he wanted to take the book to
Dublin
. Sigurd
was hesitant. Einnear had a new wife and responsibilities at home. Besides, the
old monk could have been lying. But Einnear was determined. Early in the
summer, he left his wife in his brother’s keeping and sailed for
Dublin
.”

“Did Einnear learn about the
book in
Dublin
?” Sinead asked.

Toki frowned. “I’m coming to
that. On his return from
Dublin
, Einnear called in on his old friend to make a peace
offering. Einnear was surprised to see his new wife and brother there. He
greeted Sigurd warmly and told him he had learned the book was written, not in Irish
runes, as first thought, but in Latin, and that it did recount a monk’s voyage
to the Promised Land in great detail.”

“You
are
basing this
on the
Codex
,” Sinead said, disappointment deadening her voice.

“Wait,” Toki said, “we’re getting
to the crux.”

Olaf stood. “I think you
should finish it here.”

Toki stared at him.
“Nervous?” he asked. “You needn’t be.”

Redknee thought Olaf was
going to pounce on Toki. Then, as suddenly as he had stood, he turned and
headed for the door.

Toki shrugged and continued.
“Sigurd considered what his brother had said about the book containing
directions to the Promised Land. Desire grew in him as he listened to his
brother’s talk of going to find it. As I said, Sigurd had never felt jealous of
Einnear before—”

Koll snorted.

Toki’s eyes twinkled in the
firelight. “
As I said.
But now he realised his brother had everything he
didn’t – a beautiful wife, men to lead, and the key to this vast treasure.”

“What did Sigurd do?” Magnus
asked, leaning forward.

A gust of icy air filled the
hall. Everyone turned to see Olaf had opened the door. “You’ll regret it,
Toki,” Olaf said. “Sometimes it’s best to leave things as they are.” Then he
disappeared into the night, slamming the door behind him.

“What did he mean?” Redknee
asked, suddenly concerned. “What will you regret?”

“Nothing. Ignore him. Do you
want to hear the rest of this or not?” Everyone nodded, so Toki went on.
“Sigurd waited until the three of them: Einnear, their friend Rurik, and
himself were up late discussing how to raise the funds for their quest. A lot
of mead had been drunk. Rurik was going to help by supplying another ship: on a
dangerous voyage, two longships are better than one. Now, Sigurd did not want
to share the treasure with anyone. Not his brother, and especially not Rurik.
Einnear’s wife, Inge, was still up, pouring their mead. Sigurd saw the way
Rurik looked at her. For Inge was a comely woman, untouched by hardships of
childbirth or the ravages of illness. Suddenly Sigurd saw a way to get exactly
what he wanted.

“When Rurik went outside to
relieve himself, Sigurd leaned over to his brother and whispered in his ear.
Quietly, so Inge, who had then gone to bed, wouldn’t hear.”

“What did he say?” Redknee
asked.

“He asked Einnear if he’d seen
how Rurik looked at his wife. Einnear shook his head. He had not. Sigurd
contorted his face into a pained expression. “I hate to have to tell you this,
my dear brother,” he said, “but we cannot allow Rurik to come with us to the
Promised Land, for only yesterday I saw him lying with Inge in the long grass
behind the weaving hut.”

“No!” Sinead’s hand darted
over her mouth.

Toki laughed. “Just the
response Sigurd was hoping for from his brother. And indeed, Einnear jumped from
his seat by the fire and ran outside. He saw Rurik in the yard, feeding one of
his favourite dogs. Einnear charged at him, dagger drawn. For a moment, Rurik
stared, confused, at the image of Einnear running towards him. When he realised
it was no joke, that Einnear wasn’t going to stop, he moved quickly, grabbing
an axe wedged in a nearby tree stump.”

“Who won?” Redknee asked.

“Well, it wasn’t really a
fair fight. For although Einnear had the advantage of surprise, Rurik was the
better armed, and frankly, the superior warrior. Einnear had let himself go to
seed, reading the monk’s book late into the night, neglecting his training.”

“Was Einnear killed?” Harold
asked, delight warping his face. “Was it bloody?”

“His anger carried him some
of the way. He cut a slice down the side of Rurik’s face. Almost took his eye.
But anger must be channelled, or it works against you. Rurik stayed calm. Got
in a good few swings. Clipped Einnear’s thigh. Took a chunk from his forearm.
Terrified at Rurik’s superior skill, a quickly sobered Einnear decided to
retreat. It was as he ran away, that Rurik threw his axe into the air. It
shattered Einnear’s left shoulder.”

Sinead looked as if she was
going to be sick. Redknee gave her hand a squeeze. She felt warm. “Did Sigurd
help his brother?” he asked.

“In a way.  Sigurd
couldn’t quite bring himself to be the cause of his brother’s death. Frightened
Rurik really would kill Einnear, Sigurd carried him to a cave high in the
mountains where he tended Einnear’s wounds.”

“What about his wife?” Astrid
asked. “Wives don’t just forget about their husbands.”

“Ah, yes. Penelope’s famed
loyalty for Odysseus. I’m afraid this maiden wasn’t as honourable. Sigurd told
her Rurik had attacked Einnear in a fit of revenge, but with one crucial difference
from the real events – that Einnear was dead.”

“And she believed him?”
Sinead asked.

Toki smiled. “Why wouldn’t
she? Though perhaps she grew to have her doubts.”

Sinead shrugged. “What
happened next then?”

Redknee sighed. “Sigurd
assumed Einnear’s position as jarl … and found the treasure for himself?”

Toki nodded. “The first,
certainly.”

Sinead frowned. “And what
about Einnear? Did he live?”

“No one knows.”

Later,
when the fire had near spluttered out, and most were half-asleep, Olaf burst
through the door. Icy air leached the hall of warmth.

“Has anyone been out?” he
shouted, striding across the floor.

“No,” Redknee said. “We’ve
all been together since you left.”

Olaf stopped. Sweat trickled
down his brow despite the cold. “Footprints,” he said, “hundreds of them in the
snow.”

Redknee
listened carefully, certain they were being followed. Last night’s snow was
slowly melting and the going on the hillside was soft … quiet. Yet Redknee
fancied he heard every sound – every bird, every insect, every drop of melt
water.

… the crack of footsteps
.

Surrendering to his fears, he
spun round. Stared past Koll’s bewildered face to the tangle of bare branches
beyond. Silver’s ears pricked up. Redknee followed the pup’s gaze, but still,
he saw nothing. He gave Silver a quick pat on the head and trudged on.

After the discovery of the
footprints in the snow there had been arguments about what to do. Olaf wanted
everyone to stay at the longhouse where he thought they were safest. Such an obvious
trail, he said, was likely a trap. The others, Redknee included, wanted to
search the forest. Without a finished wall, they were sitting ducks. Their
visitors hadn’t attacked this time, but it was likely they’d be back. Redknee
insisted they had to know who, or what, they were dealing with.

Eventually it was decided
that Olaf and Magnus would stay at
Svensbyan
to finish the wall with the
help of Brother Alfred, Harold and the girls.

Redknee,
together with Toki, Olvir and Koll were nominated to form a scouting party.
They had set out early that morning, following the footprints as the sun rose.
The thaw, however, meant the footsteps were disappearing fast.

They marched on in silence.
With Silver at his side, Redknee allowed his mind to wander. Toki’s story about
Sigurd and Einnear bothered him. It was clearly a thinly veiled attempt to tell
of how Sven and Erik found the
Codex
. Had Toki been there? Why had Olaf
walked out halfway through? Redknee shook his head. He couldn’t believe Sven
had incited Ragnar to kill his own brother. Wouldn’t believe it. That’s why
Olaf had become so angry – he didn’t believe a word of it either. But Toki’s
story suggested Erik might still be alive.
Could it be true?
Was that
the origin of his mother’s dying request? Could Sven … could his mother … have
known Erik was alive all along? And if Sven had lied about Erik not being his
father …

He resolved to ask Toki about
it as soon as he got the chance.

They
arrived at a mighty river as the sun reached its summit. The last of the snow
petered out at the water’s edge. Redknee strained to see if there were
footprints on the far side of the river, but there was even less snow there.
Only a few daubs of white shone among the brown of dead and dying leaves. The
opposite bank rose sharply to form a ridge beyond which all Redknee could see
was the tops of yet more bare trees. The river marked the end of their trail.

“We’ll rest here,” Toki said.

“When did he become jarl?” Koll
whispered in Redknee’s ear.

Redknee moved a half-step
away from his friend and addressed Toki. “It’s too dangerous. I think we’re
being followed.”

“I’ve seen no-one,” Toki
replied. “And that river forms a barrier between us and whoever might be on the
other side of that bluff.”

Redknee shook his head. “I
feel it in my gut.”

Toki smirked. “Let’s hope
that’s all you feel in your gut today,” he said, turning from Redknee and
unrolling his sleeping fur on an area of dry grass.

Redknee went over to where Koll
was unfurling his own bedroll in the lee of a big rock. The smithy’s usually
smiling face was set in a frown. “What’s wrong?” Redknee asked.

Koll’s eyes flicked over to
Toki. “I don’t trust him. He’s Ragnar’s man, remember. And he tried to
challenge you that day in the forest.” 

“He saved my life in
Iceland
.”

“Only after you saved his.”

Realising
he couldn’t convince Koll, Redknee bedded down a few paces away and tried to
sleep. The mid-day sun pierced his lids. Unable to settle, he raised himself
onto his elbows and looked round. Toki was asleep under a nearby bush. Olvir
sat about twenty paces away, on watch. He turned back to Koll.

“You awake?” he whispered.

“
The best mead
,” Koll
muttered, “
is all about the bees …”

Redknee
lay down and closed his eyes. Koll was already dreaming.

“You spoke?”