She Wolf

by Dan Smith

  ‘But if I build a pyre, the smoke will attract attention,’ Ylva said. ‘So I’ll break the ground and bury her. And when she’s buried, we’ll track the three-fingered man. When we find him, I’ll kill him.’

  Geri put his chin on his paws. He licked his lips and sighed. Why?

  ‘Because that’s the way things work. It’s what the gods expect.’

  4

  Young Wolf

  Ylva faced the door and watched the shadows thrown from the firepit. She tried to stay awake but eventually her eyes closed to a troubled half-sleep of broken dreams. There was no way to know how long she slept, but it was still dark when Geri’s growling woke her.

  There was a second of confusion as she remembered where she was, then she jumped to her feet with the bow in one hand, an arrow in the other.

  Geri was standing alert by the table, with his eyes fixed on the door, and his ears pricked forward.

  ‘What is it?’ Ylva asked. ‘What did you hear?’ She stood as still as a stone, and tilted her head to concentrate. The wind clawed at the walls of the hut. Trees wept and groaned in the forest. But when the wind dropped for a moment, it was just long enough for a soft sound to fill the emptiness.

  Thump. Thump. Thump.

  ‘What is that?’

  Thump. Thump. Thump.

  The slow and muffled thump of hooves on the snow-covered track.

  Geri looked back at Ylva. Someone’s coming.

  With that terrifying thought, Ylva grabbed Geri by the scruff of his neck and dragged him across the hut. Jumping over the trader’s body and backing away to the far corner behind the counter, she pulled two spare arrows from the quiver. She placed them within easy reach on the countertop, then put a third to the string of the bow.

  ‘Stay out of sight,’ she whispered to Geri.

  The wind moaned like the dead rising from their graves. Heavy snowflakes pattered against the roof. Ylva’s heart quickened. There was a mutter of a voice in the storm, and a moment later, the door rattled.

  ‘Hey!’

  The door rattled again, and a second later, an eye appeared at a gap in the shuttered window. The woman raised her voice and banged a fist on the wall.

  Geri’s muscles tightened and he lifted his lips to bare his teeth. He growled, long and deep, until Ylva hushed him and crouched lower, moving into the darkest shadows to keep out of sight. Holding the bow drawn and ready to shoot, she tried to give Geri a reassuring smile, but the shutter smashed inwards with an alarming crash. Ylva flinched as splinters and snow showered into the hut.

  Before there was time to blink, a hand came through the broken shutter, reaching across to feel for the drop-bar. There was a thud as the heavy piece of wood fell to the floor, and the hand withdrew.

  When the door swung open a single figure stood on the porch. The woman’s mop of wiry black and grey hair, and the thick scarf pulled over her mouth gave her the look of a mean old bear that had lumbered out of the forest. Light from the fire glinted in her dark eyes. She carried a bag over one shoulder, and a short sword in her right hand.

  The wind blew around her, bringing snow into the hut.

  Ylva told Geri to stay where he was. She stood straight and drew the bow. ‘Stop right there or I’ll kill you.’ She spoke the words loud and clear. She didn’t let her voice waver.

  The woman paused on the threshold and squinted into the darkness beyond the firepit.

  ‘I mean it.’ Ylva remained behind the counter but took a step forward out of the shadows so the woman could see the arrow aimed at her heart.

  ‘Oh.’ The woman leant her sword against the wall and raised her hands to show they were empty. She pulled her scarf away from her mouth as she glanced around the room, then looked at Ylva and softened her expression. ‘A child? Please. Don’t kill me. I’m sorry if I scared you.’

  It was strange, the way the woman spoke. She used the same words Ylva would use, but they sounded different in her mouth. It reminded Ylva that she was foreign in this land.

  ‘Really, child, don’t be afraid,’ said the woman. ‘I’m not here to hurt you. I just want to get out of the cold, find somewhere warm.’

  ‘I’m not afraid.’ Ylva lowered her chin, trying to sound older than she was. ‘And I’m not a child. If you try to come in here, I’ll shoot you dead.’ She flicked her gaze down to look at Geri crouched by her feet, then back up at the woman again.

  ‘Huh, well, I’m afraid,’ the woman said. ‘I’m afraid of what’s here in the dark, and what’s out there in the forest. I’m afraid of freezing to death, too, because if I stay out here any longer, my blood’s going to turn to ice, and I really don’t want that.’

  ‘Find somewhere else.’

  ‘There is nowhere else. And you’re making me nervous pointing that thing at me, so I’d prefer you to point it somewhere else.’

  ‘I know how to shoot and I know how to shoot fast,’ Ylva said. ‘Don’t think I won’t do it. I’ll kill you as easily as I’d kill a rat.’

  ‘I don’t doubt it,’ the woman replied with a half-smile. ‘I can see the wolf in you.’ She held Ylva’s gaze for a moment, then shifted her eyes to take in the state of the room. She let out a long deep sigh as she looked at Ylva once more. ‘It’s getting colder out here, and there’s things I’d rather not run into. I really need to come inside.’

  ‘So you can try to kill me?’

  ‘Why would I do that?’

  ‘Because you’re a Saxon and—’

  ‘You’re a Dane?’ The woman took a deep breath and puffed her cheeks as she let it out. ‘Well, I don’t care much about Vikings and Saxons and all that. People are people as far as I’m concerned, and every one of them deserves to be left in peace to live the life they want. And right now I’d very much like to come inside, and I’d rather do it without getting hurt. Will you promise not to put an arrow in me?’

  Ylva didn’t reply.

  ‘Maybe we need an introduction,’ the woman said. ‘My name is Cathryn. I get by trading this and that, getting into trouble from time to time. How about you, young wolf? Do you have a name?’

  Ylva kept the bowstring drawn back. ‘I don’t care to share it with you.’

  Cathryn raised her eyebrows and nodded. ‘Huh, well, I see. But I have to call you something. You’re a fierce creature; how about Young Wolf?’

  Ylva said nothing.

  ‘Young Wolf it is then. Introductions made. And now we’re not strangers any more, I think it would be proper for you to invite me inside to warm myself by the fire.’ She smiled. ‘Maybe even share some of what’s cooking in that pot.’

  Geri leapt up to put his front paws on the counter beside Ylva and look over at the wild woman. He was no longer agitated. He had stopped growling, his muscles were relaxed, and his breathing was normal.

  ‘You think she’s friendly?’ Ylva whispered to him. ‘That we should let her in?’

  She has kind eyes. I like the look of her.

  ‘You like the look of her?’ Ylva stared into the woman’s eyes, searching for the kindness Geri saw. ‘You’re sure?’ Perhaps he was right; maybe this woman wasn’t a threat. Even so, they would have to be wary of her. ‘All right.’ She raised her voice. ‘You can come in.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Cathryn looked puzzled by Ylva’s behaviour, but gave a small nod. ‘And thank you for not killing me.’ She dropped her bag beside Ylva’s satchel. ‘Now I don’t want you getting worked up any more than you already are,’ Cathryn said. ‘But you should know I’m not alone.’

  When she said it, a dark-skinned, dark-haired boy stepped out from behind her and showed himself. He was a few inches taller than Ylva, lean and dressed in a leather tunic and breeches. He wore a fur cloak over his shoulders, and fur-bound leather boots on his feet. A smooth, thick scar curved around his throat, as if he were wearing a necklace. He carried a bow in his left hand.

  ‘This is Bron,’ Cathryn said. ‘He doesn’t talk much, but what he lacks in talking he makes up for i
n scowling.’ And with that, she used the heel of her boot to kick the door closed behind her.

  5

  A Long Way from Home

  ‘It’s treacherous out there.’ Cathryn ran a hand through her thick curls, then rubbed life back into her face. ‘Huh.’ She wiped her eyes and looked around the room. ‘Uh-huh.’

  Once she had taken it all in, her gaze fell on Ylva, who was still half-hidden behind the counter. ‘How old are you, child? My guess is a few years younger than Bron.’ She gestured at the boy. ‘Thirteen? You look about thirteen to me.’ As she spoke, she put the drop-bar across the door and did her best to close the broken shutter, dampening the howl of the wind. ‘And you’re a Dane – in a part of Northumbria still controlled by Saxons. I’d say you’re a long way from home.’

  The boy had the presence of an animal coiled and waiting to strike; he remained by the door, watching Ylva with dark and suspicious eyes. He held his bow loose in his hand.

  ‘What are you doing this far north, child? Are you lost?’ Cathryn finished with the shutter and faced Ylva as she waited for an answer. When Ylva didn’t give one, Cathryn shrugged. ‘And who’s that lying by your feet? Is he the owner of this hut? You want to tell me what happened to him?’

  ‘I didn’t kill him,’ Ylva said.

  ‘That’s not what I asked. But since you mentioned it, he doesn’t look like he’s asleep down there, so I’m guessing someone did kill him. And if it wasn’t you, then who was it?’ She rubbed her hands together and went to the shape hidden under the blanket on the floor. ‘And who’s this?’ She bent down and took hold of one corner.

  ‘Don’t touch that,’ Ylva warned.

  ‘I have to see.’ Cathryn lifted the blanket just enough to glimpse underneath. ‘You know her?’

  Ylva nodded once.

  ‘This is your mother and—?’

  ‘Yes, so don’t touch.’

  Cathryn sighed and lowered the corner of the blanket. ‘I’m sorry.’ She went to the pot over the fire and filled three clay bowls with soup before taking them to the table. With her foot, she pushed out a chair and pointed at it. ‘Bron, come and sit down. You’re scaring the poor child.’

  The boy made a strange gesture with his right hand. He held a fist close to his hip and opened it suddenly as if he were throwing something aside. He kept his eyes on Ylva while he did it, and she stared right back at him.

  ‘He’s as wary of you as you are of him,’ Cathryn said. ‘And that’s his way of saying “no”. He doesn’t speak much so he uses his hands.’ She turned to Bron. ‘Sit. Can’t you see she’s not going to hurt anyone?’

  ‘Don’t be too sure of that.’ Ylva scowled. ‘I’m even more dangerous than I look.’

  ‘Oh really?’ Cathryn said. ‘Even more dangerous? Then I’ll have to be careful what I say. Bron, sit down.’

  Without taking his eyes off Ylva, the boy sighed and stalked across to the table where he took the chair Cathryn had pushed out for him. He leant the bow beside him and sat so he could watch Ylva from the corner of his eye.

  Cathryn sipped the soup and coughed. ‘Ugh, that’s disgusting. Did you make this?’

  ‘No. Why is his skin so dark?’ Ylva asked.

  Cathryn wiped her mouth with her hand. ‘You mean Bron?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Cathryn grimaced as she tried the soup again. ‘His ancestors lived in a place where it never snows and the sun shines from dawn to dusk. A place where everyone has dark skin.’

  ‘I’ve never heard of such a place.’

  ‘That doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist. It’s a long way south of here, across the sea.’

  ‘And why do you speak so strange? Do all Saxons speak like this?’

  ‘So many questions,’ Cathryn replied. ‘Yes, all Saxons speak like this. Now you tell me something – what are you doing alone in a hut with dead people? What happened here?’

  Ylva glanced at Geri beside her, his front paws still on the counter, and Geri looked back at her. Tell them, he seemed to say, and Ylva wondered why he trusted the woman. But he had always been a much better judge of character than she was.

  Tell them.

  ‘All right.’ She nodded to him and turned her attention back to Cathryn. ‘It was a man and a woman. I was outside. Mother came in to make a trade and . . .’ Ylva’s gaze settled on the blanket in the middle of the floor and her words caught in her throat.

  ‘Huh.’ Cathryn nodded without looking around. ‘Just to trade? Nothing more than that? Are you sure she didn’t come in here for another reason?’

  ‘What other reason?’ Ylva put a hand to her neck and touched her scarf.

  ‘Don’t get angry, child, I’m only asking if you could think of anything. It’s just that if I was out there in the cold with my child and I had nothing to my name, no silver in my pocket, and I saw a warm hut with food inside, and I had a knife in my hand . . . I don’t think anyone would blame a mother for trying to protect her child.’

  ‘Who said we had nothing to our name? Mother had silver to trade. Lots of it. Why would I lie? Are you calling me a liar?’

  Cathryn held up a hand. ‘I’m calling you nothing of the sort. I can see you’re an honest girl. Honest and dangerous.’

  ‘Yes I am.’

  Cathryn slurped her soup. ‘So . . . you were telling me what happened.’

  ‘Mother did have a knife as it happens – a good one – and silver to trade for blankets and a hot meal, so she—’ Ylva bit the inside of her cheek and took a deep breath. ‘Mother told me to wait outside while she went in. But then the man and woman came on horses.’

  ‘A man and a woman?’ Cathryn paused with her soup bowl touching her lips. ‘On horseback?’

  ‘Vikings. They went inside and . . . and when they came out . . .’ Ylva bit her cheek hard enough to draw blood. This was not the time for crying.

  ‘You sure they were Vikings?’

  Ylva focused on turning her despair into rage. ‘Of course. I know what Viking raiders look like. The way they were dressed, their weapons. They had shields with wolf skulls on them.’

  ‘Wolf skulls? And when did they leave? Was it long ago?’

  ‘Before dark.’

  Cathryn looked across the table at Bron and they shared a concerned glance before she turned to Ylva. ‘You didn’t tell me why you’re so far north. Ivar the Boneless took Eoforwic last month and most of the kingdom to the south now belongs to Vikings, but not here. We don’t see many Danes in this area except the odd raiding party like the one that . . .’ Her words trailed away as her eyes went to the shape on the floor. Her voice softened. ‘A day’s ride south of here we saw a burnt longship on the beach. There were bodies and . . . is that something to do with you?’

  ‘I don’t want to answer any more questions,’ Ylva said.

  ‘I understand.’ Cathryn forced a smile. ‘So why don’t you come and sit down? The soup tastes like horse dung and slugs, but at least it’s hot. It’ll make you feel better.’

  ‘Nothing will make me feel better. And I don’t know you, so I don’t trust you. Mother taught me not to trust anyone on the road. Survival always comes first.’

  ‘Sounds like she was a wise woman,’ Cathryn said. ‘I might have liked her. But did she remember to tell you that sometimes you have to trust someone? That one day your survival might depend on it?’

  ‘I trusted her.’

  ‘But she’s gone, so who will you trust now?’

  ‘Myself,’ Ylva said without hesitation. ‘And the gods.’

  ‘The gods? Really?’

  ‘They’re testing me,’ Ylva said.

  ‘Ah, I see. A test. Yes, that’s the kind of thing your gods do, isn’t it?’

  ‘Because they want to make us strong. People say you Saxons only have one god, and that he’s soft and weak. Is that true?’

  ‘Sometimes softness is strength, child.’

  Ylva looked confused. ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘You’ve never
seen a blade of grass bend to the wind?’ Cathryn asked.

  ‘Grass and gods are different. You can’t compare them.’

  Cathryn smiled. ‘You might be right. But have you considered that Bron and I might be part of the test you speak of? I mean, we’re definitely not leaving, so we must have a part to play.’ Cathryn sucked at her soup bowl again. ‘And you can’t stay behind the counter all night. I promise we don’t want to hurt you, so you might as well join us here, close to the fire. The worst thing that’ll happen is that your mouth will be assaulted by the taste of this disgusting soup.’

  Ylva was sure she could stay behind the counter all night if she wanted to, but Geri had other ideas. The way his deep-brown eyes were fixed on her, his head tilted to one side, she knew what he would say if he could speak.

  It’s cold back here. I don’t like it. We should be by the fire, where it’s warm.

  ‘We’re staying where we are,’ Ylva whispered. ‘I don’t trust them.’

  But maybe she’s right; maybe she is part of the test. And it’s warmer over there. And there’s hot food.

  ‘No.’ Ylva shook her head.

  I don’t want to be alone.

  ‘All right.’ Ylva grabbed the arrows and stepped away from the counter. ‘But don’t take your eyes off them.’ She came towards the fire but didn’t sit at the table with the strangers. She moved to the other table and pulled out a chair to sit facing them. Pleased to be back in the warmest part of the hut, Geri settled on the floor at Ylva’s feet. He yawned, licked his lips, then rested his chin on his paws and closed his eyes.

  Ylva wasn’t quite so trusting. She placed the bow on the tabletop and laid both hands on it, ready to use it at a moment’s notice. She watched the strangers through the fine strands of hair that fell across her face.

  ‘You really know how to use that?’ Cathryn pointed at the weapon.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And would you recognize the people who did this terrible thing to you?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Huh.’ Cathryn rubbed the tiredness from her eyes. ‘You know . . . what happened to you is a horrible thing. If something like that happened to me, and I had a weapon like that, I’d feel as if it was begging to be used. If I was a Dane, with your gods, I might even tell myself it was destiny.’ She looked up at the ceiling. ‘That the gods had put the weapon in my hands.’ She lowered her eyes to watch Ylva once more. ‘Knowing what little I know of you, fierce child, I’d say you’re planning to hunt the people who killed your mother. You want to make them pay for what they did because that’s the Viking way, isn’t it? You want revenge.’