Viking Raiders (4 page)

“Thor's hammer, give me strength! I thought I said be careful with the helmets!” Erik cursed. Chuckling, he added, “But I suppose that was a pretty impressive show.”

“So we can come?” Tom asked hopefully.

Erik looked down at Tom and shook his head. “No, I'm afraid it's just too dangerous.”

“Look, Mr Red, we're kind of desperate,” Isis said, talking quickly. “There's an angry Egyptian god with a face like a dog and breath to match, who wants us to find a hidden amulet. If we can't go with you, we won't be able to find it and I'll never get into the Afterlife.” She finally stopped to catch her breath.

Erik stared at her. Then he burst into laughter. “You spin a good yarn, little girl!” he said. “Go on then. Get on board before I change my mind. At least you two will liven up the long journey.”

Isis grinned at Tom. “Where are we going?” she asked Erik.

Erik gazed out across the horizon. He pointed his finger west, across the sea. “To England, of course! The land of green fields, churches stuffed with gold, and home to a load of wimpy peasants.” Then he punched his palm with a fist as big as a bowling ball. “We're going to grind them into flour for our bread!”

Erik turned and marched to the longship, his red hair and animal-skin cloak flapping in the wind.

Isis grabbed Tom's arm. “Why can't we go somewhere nice and warm?” she moaned. “This is the second time we've ended up going to that cold mud puddle!”

Tom shook her hand away. “Hey! That's my home you're talking about. I can't wait to see England through a Viking's eyes! This will be so cool.”

Then Tom remembered what he'd read about how the Vikings had battled their way down the length of the country, murdering anything that breathed and destroying any town that stood in their path. He gulped, but it wasn't as if they had a choice. The riddle said they needed to board the longship if they wanted to find the amulet. “Come on,” he said. “Our adventure begins here.”

Erik introduced his men as the children stepped into the boat. “Bjørn the Bone-crusher!” Erik shouted. “Say hello to my new crew members.”

Bjørn bowed to the three of them. “Be healthy! May your jug be always full of mead,” he said in greeting. He tugged at his blond plaits and his stern face cracked into a smile.

Erik moved on to the next man. Tom's neck was beginning to ache from looking up at the tall men. It was the same routine with each one.

“Grisly Gunnar!” Erik bellowed.

Grisly Gunnar slammed down a fist on to Tom's shoulder. “Be healthy!” he boomed. “May your sword be always red with the blood of the English.”

“Er… thanks,” Tom said, hoping that Grisly Gunnar never found out that he was English.

Just as Erik was about to go through the same routine with yet another man, Isis clapped her hands together like an impatient school teacher. “Hello, long-haired giants,” she shouted at the top of her voice. “I'm Isis, he's called Tom, and this is my cat, Cleo. Nice to meet you. And yes, let's allbe healthy! But can we just get on the boat and go now?”

On board the longship, benches ran from one side of the hull to another. The vessel rocked unsteadily as the bulky Vikings sat down. Tom tripped over their long legs as he and Isis looked for seats. The Vikings were all squashed together and there didn't seem to be any spaces left.

“Oh, great! Where are
we
going to sit?” Isis said.

“Come over here,” a young man said, patting the tiniest of spaces at his side.

The man was taller than Tom and lankier than the other Vikings. He had white-blond hair that, like the others, he wore in long, fat plaits. His blue eyes were a little close together, but he looked friendly enough.

Tom and Isis squeezed on to the bench next to him.

“Be healthy! I'm Magnus,” the young Viking said, offering Tom his hand.

Tom's fingers were almost crushed by Magnus's iron grip. He forced a smile through the pain. “Nice to meet—”

“And I'm Geir.” A rich, rumbling voice interrupted Tom. He turned to his left and found himself looking into the lined face of a grey-haired man. He was much older than the other crew members.

“If you get seasick, be sure you don't do it on me,” Geir said. His deep-set eyes sparkled playfully. “I'm wearing my best beaver skins.”

Isis leaned forward and grinned at Geir. “If he
does
get seasick, I'm definitely pushing him in your direction.” She stroked Cleo, who was sitting on her lap. “I'm wearing my best cat.”

There was a
splash!
and a
clunk!
as Erik hauled the anchor over the side of the boat.

“Take up your oars!” he cried.

The men who were seated along the gunwale grabbed the long oars and started to rock back and forth in perfect time with one another. “Heave! Heave! Heave!” they chanted.

Creaking, the longship pulled away from the riverbank, and they sailed downstream towards the open sea.

“So, Magnus,” Tom began, feeling like he ought to strike up some chit-chat with the stranger whose knee he was practically sitting on. “Are you excited to be on this voyage?”

Magnus beamed. “I certainly am. I'm as excited as a wolf howling at the moon.”

“That excited, eh?” Isis asked.

“I can't wait to get to England,” Magnus said. His smile drooped and his face sagged, as though the happiness had leaked out of him. “I can't stay at home, you see. My oldest brother, Arne, inherited all our family land. He and I don't get on, and he told me I would have to work as his servant. There's no way I'm going to do that!”

Tom frowned. “Are you really going to make enough money out of this expedition to live on?”

Magnus's eyes suddenly grew wide. His mouth curled back up into a smile.

“Why, yes! We're going looting, aren't we, lads?” he cried, punching the air. “To England! Where the streets are paved with gold. And the paths will run red with blood. HOORAH!”

The men sitting nearby all joined in, nodding their heads ferociously.

“OK!” Tom said, punching the air with what he hoped passed for enthusiasm. He didn't like the thought of hurting anyone. But he couldn't risk the Vikings finding that out, or that he was English.

With hardly any wind, and the water as smooth as glass, the longship cut through the river with barely a ripple. But Cleo had started to scratch and whine on Isis's lap.

“What's wrong, Fluffpot?” Isis asked.

Cleo spat.

“Oh! I know what's the matter with her,” Isis said, clasping her hand to her head. “She absolutely hates water.”

Suddenly, Cleo shot along the length of the ship and scampered up to the very top of the mast. “MEOOOOW!” She clung on to the wooden pole, trembling and meowing.

“Poor thing,” Isis said. “She sounds so frightened. Come back down, kitty!”

Erik started to chuckle. He stroked his bushy red beard and erupted into a gale of hearty laughter.

“Looks like we've got ourselves a new look out, lads!” he said, pointing to Cleo.

The river grew wider and wider. Waves started to lap against the longship, making it rock from side to side. Soon, the waves grew taller, and crashed against the boat's hull.

“We're on the open sea, boys!” Erik shouted. He stood with his thick tree-trunk legs planted wide apart. Tom marvelled at his balance.

“Now, brace yourselves!” Erik continued “It's going to be a long journey. It will probably be dangerous too. But that doesn't matter, because we Vikings were born to sail, weren't we, lads?”

The men started to whistle and clap.

“Kings of the sea!” Magnus shouted.

Erik wagged his finger at him. “That's right! And don't forget, once we get to England, all the gold and jewels and furs are ours for the taking. Enough for all of us!” He clasped his hand into a large, greedy-looking fist.

The longship's crew exploded into deafening whoops.

Geir stood up and waved his helmet in the air. “Those English can't fight,” he shouted in his hoarse voice. “They're a bunch of WEEDS!”

Isis started to chuckle.

Tom poked her in the arm. “I managed to defeat you!” he whispered.

“And we will pluck those weeds!” Erik bellowed. He grabbed hold of one of the men's plaits and yanked it upwards, as if to demonstrate his weeding skills. Amazingly, the man didn't even flinch! “All we have to do is step ashore—”

“And grab the lot!” Bjørn cried, jumping up and down with such vigour that he tripped and crashed headlong into the row of men in front.

As the longship headed further out to sea, an icy wind battered the crew.

Tom pulled his fur cloak tightly round him, snuggling into its warmth. “I'm glad we've got these,” he said.

Isis's teeth chattered. “H-h-how do you n-n-northern n-nincompoops m-manage in this terrible weather?”

Tom grinned. “We're made of strong stuff. Not like you softies from the south.”

“V-v-very f-funny.”

Night fell and the stars twinkled in the black sky. Four of the Vikings pulled a leather canopy across the top of the boat. Tom looked up, feeling sad he could no longer see the glow of the moon.