Viking Gold (46 page)

Redknee heard the breath rush
from his lungs. He hadn’t even realised he’d been tense.

Hiawatha smiled as his
daughter translated, but Redknee knew from his eyes that he’d understood
perfectly.

“Please,” Running Deer said,
turning back to Redknee, “continue with your story.”

“We come from a land of mountains
far from here. Our enemy destroyed our village and we sailed across the sea to
find a new home. We do not want to fight you. We seek an empty land where we
can be the first settlers.” Redknee went on to tell Hiawatha of Ragnar, of
their journey, of Sven’s death and of their camp by the lagoon. All the while
Hiawatha nodded as Running Deer translated.

He’d debated whether to tell
them about Saint Brendan’s treasure and the
Codex
. But the decision was
made for him when Running Deer pointed to Sinead’s bag.

“My father wants to know what
you carry so carefully.”

Redknee lifted out the
Codex
and placed it in front of Hiawatha, showing him how to turn the pages. Hiawatha
nodded in understanding, so Redknee pointed to the text. “The markings tell a
story about a monk –
a holy man
– who came here many years ago. We used
his tale as our guide – to help us find this beautiful island.”

When they came to the page
with the giant pine tree, Hiawatha’s eyes lit up and he began tapping his
finger on the drawing.

“Do you know this tree?”
Redknee asked, his excitement rising. “Do you know where it is?”

Running Deer leaned in to
take a closer look at the picture for herself. “It could be the White Pine. It’s
three days walk north—”

Hiawatha cut her off. She
blushed and bowed her head in silence. Clearly she must have spoken out of
turn. Hiawatha turned to Thinking Owl and began prodding him in the side. His
son shook his head. They appeared to be disagreeing about whatever Hiawatha had
asked him to do. After a few moments of this, Thinking Owl gave in. He rose and
disappeared down the longhouse, re-appearing a moment later with a rectangular
strip of beads in his hand.

Running Deer took the beads
from her brother and placed them beside the
Codex
. “These are wampum,” she
said, glancing awkwardly at her father. He nodded for her to proceed. “They are
made from shells. This belt tells the story of my father, but it is not yet
finished.”

Redknee ran his fingers over
the woven beads. “Do the colours have different meanings?”

“The white shells mean purity
of mind, as in forgiveness or understanding. The purple shells represent all
the possibilities a person has in their lifetime, which we believe are as
numerous as the stars in the night sky.”

“Hiawatha wants to
commemorate his great victory over the Bear People,” Hawk interjected dryly.

Redknee frowned. “But, I
thought—”

“That’s right. He hasn’t
defeated them yet. He’s preparing.”

Running Deer looked
uncomfortable as she translated Hawk’s words for her father, but the older man
laughed and clapped his hands together. He clearly liked his son-in-law, though
his tongue was sharp.  

Redknee asked Running Deer if
the Bear People's war party would attack the village.

She smiled. “Don’t worry. We have
many warriors. We’ll be safe.”

Crouching
Bear dragged the youth across the snow to the centre of the village. He was
only a year or two older than Redknee. The gathered women and children spat at
him, some threw stones. Blood trickled from a gash in his forehead and a purple
smear darkened his cheekbone. Crouching Bear tossed him in front of Hiawatha
and smiled. 

“He’s a Bear People spy,”
Running Deer whispered into Redknee’s ear. “My brother caught him prowling
outside the village.”

The youth knelt, shivering in
the snow. His head was bare, shaved clean, save for a knot of straight black
hair that hung down his back in a braid. A band of red paint encircled his
eyes.

“Is he alone?” Redknee asked.

Running Deer nodded. “Though
he confessed there is a war-party less than a day away.”

The women and children fell
silent as Hiawatha studied the youth’s face. Even under the chief’s heavy
stare, defiance shone brightly from his eyes. Satisfied, Hiawatha issued a
command to Crouching Bear and retreated into the warmth of the longhouse. 

Crouching Bear grabbed the
youth by his hair, pulled him towards a tree stump and forced him to kneel. He
held the youth’s head in place with one hand and pointed to Redknee with the
other.

“What does he want?” Redknee
asked, reluctant to approach the executioner’s block.

Hawk joined Redknee. “He
wants to try your sword. They don’t have iron here. Their axes and spears are
headed with stone.”

Crouching Bear jabbed his
finger in Redknee’s direction again.

Redknee approached the tree
stump slowly. A tear trickled down the youth’s cheek, smearing a trail of red
paint in its wake. Redknee drew
Flame Weaver
. At least his death would
be quick. 

But
the eyes of the crowd were not on the captive. Even Crouching Bear was distracted.
Redknee turned to follow his gaze. A small, white-haired man shuffled towards
them, testing the ground before him with a stick.

“Who’s that?” Redknee asked.

“It’s Deganawida,” Running
Deer said. “He is a sort of holy man – like your monk. His name means ‘
Two
rivers flowing together.’
He travels between villages, sharing wisdom.”

Redknee looked again at the
old man. Despite the cold, his feet were bare and caked in mud, but he didn’t
seem to notice. “What does he want?”

Hawk answered first. “He
wants to prevent the youth being killed.”

Running Deer eyed her husband
sharply. “Actually, he wants us to join his great peace. My father will
not
be
pleased.”

Someone must have notified
Hiawatha because he stormed out of the longhouse and glared angrily at Deganawida.
The old man had gone over to where the youth lay sprawled across the tree
stump. When he saw Hiawatha appear, he raised his eyes skywards and began
chanting. Hiawatha stood awkwardly for a moment. Then he turned to Crouching
Bear, issued a new order, and disappeared back inside. 

“What’s happening?” Redknee
asked.

“I’m not sure,” Running Deer
said, watching with concern as her brother forced the youth’s mouth open. On
seeing this, Deganawida stood back and lowered his chanting until it was barely
audible.

Crouching Bear reached into
the youth’s mouth, pulled out his tongue, and, with one sharp upward flick of
his knife, severed it clean.

Despite
Hiawatha’s confidence in his warriors, Redknee could feel the villagers become increasingly
on edge as they readied for the attack. He pulled
Flame Weaver
from its
scabbard and ran his finger along the blade. The steel glimmered in the cold
winter light.

Koll grinned. “Best steel in
the world, that.”

Redknee nodded and surveyed the
village defences from his position on the ramparts. Men, maybe forty or more,
armed with bows and arrows, lined the wall. Below, in the village, Sinead and
Astrid were helping the women boil pitchers of water. The children, too young
to fully realise the coming danger, excitedly gathered brushwood for their
fires.

Koll whetted the edge of his
axe with a stone. “He’s a shrewd one, that Hiawatha,” he said. “I bet he wanted
us to fight the Bear People with him all along. Been watching our camp. Knew
about our steel weapons. Wants to see us use them. That whole rescue thing was
just a way to put us in his debt—”

Redknee shook his head. “He
said he knew nothing about the footprints—”

“Getting cynical in your old
age, Koll?” Toki approached along the rampart. He carried something small in
the palm of his hand, hidden from view. Silver followed the movement of Toki’s
hand with interest.

“Only since I met you,” Koll
replied.

Further along the rampart,
Olvir looked worried. Redknee went over to him. “Don’t worry,” he said quietly.
“You’re the best archer here.”

Olvir bit his bottom lip. “My
fear of blood has returned. I feel sick.”

Redknee placed a hand on
Olvir’s shoulder. There was nothing to say. Sensing his distress, Silver sidled
over and pressed his body against Olvir’s legs. Olvir reached down and rubbed
the pup behind the ears.

“Look at him,” he said, “only
a pup, yet he fears nothing. He’ll make you a good fighting dog in time.”

Redknee nodded, but he didn’t
want the pup anywhere near the fighting. He was still too small. Redknee
pointed to where Sinead was helping the women light a fire and told Silver to
go join her.  Sinead laughed as Silver leapt into her arms. Redknee
smiled. They would keep each other safe.

Redknee went back over to
Koll and Toki.

“Look at this,” Toki said,
holding up the flint arrowhead he’d been hiding in the palm of his hand.”

“Shouldn’t be a problem with
our steel weapons,” Koll said.

Toki shook his head and
stared over the wall, into the dark of the forest. “After Hawk’s tale I’m not
so sure … I think it’s no bad thing we’re here to see off these Bear People.
The experience might come in useful later … if we ever have to face them on our
own.”

Although his reasons were
different, Redknee agreed with Toki. For his part, he couldn’t stand to see
another village destroyed.

Lights
flickered in the forest, between the trees, teasing, terrifying. The Flint
People fought hard, but eventually, the Bear People, through sheer force of
numbers, and the use of long ladders, had breached their defences. Fire
engulfed the village, and Hiawatha had ordered the warriors out into the
darkness to face their enemy head-on.

Not long after, Redknee had
become separated from the others.

He wiped blood from his cheek
and looked at the boy lying on the ground. His first win. He raised
Flame
Weaver
. It hovered mid-air. Uncertain.

“You haven’t killed before?”

Redknee looked up to see Hawk
standing beside him. He shook his head and dug his foot into the boy’s chest.

“Make it a quick one to the
gullet,” Hawk said.

He raised his arms above his
head and this time let gravity propel his sword, blade down,
towards the
boy’s throat. Damp brown eyes stared through a mask of sweat and war paint.
Redknee froze, the blade tip a hair’s breadth from the kill.

He couldn’t do it. By
Odin’s all seeing eye, this was no time to lose courage.

A steel flash caught the
moonlight. The boy’s skull burst open. Redknee stood,
Flame Weaver
motionless in his hand as blood and brains drenched his face. He spat a piece
of bone from his mouth. Koll jerked his axe free and placed a hand on Redknee’s
shoulder.

“Never, never, never, look in
their eyes,” he said. “and,” smirking, “always close your mouth.”

“The Kanienkehaka say a
prayer for the souls of those they kill,” Hawk said.

Koll spat. “No time. There’s
more Bear People heading this way. Besides, the lad was a warrior. He’ll go to
Valhalla
, never
mind me trying to make myself feel better.”

A terrible cry pierced the
forest. Then, suddenly, a mass of painted warriors emerged from between the
trees. Redknee looked round. The three of them were on their own.

“Stick close to me,” Koll
said to Redknee.

He didn’t argue.

Still screaming, and beating
on their war drums, the Bear People spread out, encircling them.

“If they rush us, we’re
dead,” Hawk said, waving his sword about as if it were a torch.

Redknee watched as the
warriors began to ease closer. “There must be at least twenty of them.”

Koll grinned. “I took out
twelve Saxons on my own once. Think you two can manage four each?”

“Toki was right about you.
You’re all bluster,” Hawk said.

“We’ll see who’s hot air!”
Koll said, charging at the nearest warrior.

The warrior sped forward to
meet Koll, tomahawk raised high. Koll feinted and, at the last moment, ducked, sending
the warrior tumbling headfirst onto the grass. A second, younger, brave emerged
from the circle carrying a spear. He thrust it at Koll’s stomach, but the big
Viking was quicker than he looked, dodging each jab before leaping into the air
and slamming his axe down on the youth’s neck.

From
the corner of his eye, Redknee saw an archer take aim at Koll.
Coward
,
he thought, rushing to cut the man down. But he was too late. The arrow sliced
through the night air, lodging in Koll’s shoulder. The blacksmith dropped to
his knees with a bellow. Redknee cried out. He would
not
lose his
friend. He spun round, blind with anger.
Flame Weaver
light in his palm,
twitching for blood.