The Wolf Coats cheered as the wind caught the banner and it unfurled. The black raven spread its wings as if it were about to take flight. They all clapped Ayvind on the back and shoulders. Bodvar wrapped the skald in a huge bear hug.
‘How did you get it?’ Skar asked.
‘Well, now, it wasn’t easy,’ Ayvind said, sucking in breath through his teeth. ‘Jarl Siward’s men recovered it when Einar fell. It was being kept on his ship for you to take on your next task. I managed to sneak aboard, get it and sneak back off again. I’ve been sweating ever since, I can assure you that, in case they found out it had gone. But I was gambling that no one would look until they planned to start the next raid. That gamble paid off.’
‘Hakon will punish you for this,’ Ulrich said. ‘Why risk your life for us?’
Ayvind rubbed his chin as if thinking. Then he said, ‘I meant it when I said I wanted to see real adventure. Yours is not yet over. I’ll see this through to the end.’
‘You’ve done us a great service here. It was very brave of you,’ Einar said.
Ayvind grinned, basking in the gratitude and adulation surrounding him. ‘Is there any chance of finally opening that wine skin, then?’ he said, pointing to the single container of wine that had been in the barrels taken from Cathair Aile, and which Ulrich had kept resolutely stoppered throughout the voyage.
‘All right,’ Ulrich said. ‘You may as well have a drink. You might just have saved our heads.’
He tossed the wine skin to Ayvind and there was another burst of cheering. Grinning, the skald pulled out the stopper and began gulping down a long draft.
‘Wait,’ Affreca said. She stepped forward, reaching to the banner. ‘Let me see that.’
To Einar’s surprise. Ayvind dropped the wine skin, leaving a trail of ruby liquid dribbling from his lips as he snatched the banner away from Affreca’s grasp.
‘What’s the matter?’ Skar said.
Ayvind looked confused. He took a step backwards. The Wolf Coats all rose to their feet.
‘It’s her,’ Ayvind said, waving a finger at Affreca. ‘A woman must not touch the banner. So Odin said in the legend. It will dispel the magic.’
‘I’ve never heard that part of the legend,’ Skar said.
‘You forget the banner belonged to my clan,’ Affreca said. ‘It’s been borne through many battles down the centuries. It was torn several times. Who do you think repaired it? The women of the Ui Imair of Dublin, that’s who. My grandmother and great-grandmother and their mothers before them. All women. How did they repair it without touching it?’
Ayvind gave a little whimper.
Affreca stepped towards him. Her eyes narrowed.
‘Now I remember it,’ she said, ‘at the battle of Ard Macha, an Irish spear went right through the banner. It tore a great hole so big it could not be sewn closed so my great-grandmother embroidered a little dragon over the gap. Show me that embroidery now. I won’t touch it. You hold it up.’
‘No. I won’t,’ Ayvind said. His mouth turned down and it looked like he was going to cry.
‘Why not?’ Ulrich said.
‘She lies,’ Ayvind shouted, pointing at Affreca. ‘There is no embroidery. Women cannot touch the banner. Perhaps it’s her. She’s the witch who’s been destroying your luck, Ulrich. Think about that.’
‘There’s no embroidery because the banner is a fake,’ Affreca said in a cold, flat voice. ‘I thought that when I first saw it flying on the ship before the raid on Cathair Aile but now I can get a good look at it close up, I’m sure.’
Ayvind began to back away, holding the banner before him as if it was a shield. The Wolf Coats gathered round him in a semicircle. Einar was reminded of how he had once seen farm dogs surrounding a child. It was as if they could smell his fear.
‘Ayvind,’ Ulrich said. His voice was low but menacing, not unlike the growl of one of those dogs Einar had fought in Cathair Aile. ‘What’s going on?’
The skald did not answer but instead took another step backwards. His heel bumped into the side of the ship and he stopped. He had nowhere else to go. Beyond the ship was nothing but miles of empty, rolling ocean as far as the eye could see.
‘Why do you want us to bring a fake banner to my king?’ Ulrich said.
Ayvind looked from face to face. He saw nothing but angry eyes and suspicion surrounding him. Then his frightened expression changed to one of fierce triumph. His hand dropped to his belt and he ripped his sword from its sheath.
‘Ha!’ Ayvind shouted. ‘Get back, you bastards.’
Now it was the Wolf Coats who took a step back, hands raised.
‘Not so tough now, eh?’ Ayvind said, grinning. ‘Now I seem to be the only person on board with a weapon.’
Fifty
Einar looked on in shock. Ayvind was right. The rest of them had all been stripped of their weapons in Cathair Aile.
‘What are you going to do?’ Ulrich said. ‘Kill all ten of us? Sail the ship yourself?’
‘If I have to, yes,’ Ayvind said. ‘Don’t tempt me. Skipper?’ He shouted to Roan who still stood at the steering oar. ‘We have a change of plan. Set a course for Nidros.’
‘Now why would you want to go to northern Norway?’ Ulrich said. ‘Unless you want to meet with the rebel jarls up there? Is that it? Does this all have something to do with Jarl Sigurd? Maybe Olaf Haraldsson?’
Ayvind laughed. ‘Don’t you realise what’s happening even now, Ulrich? You’re supposed to be so clever, but we’ve played you like a fidla every step of the way.’
‘Who’s this we?’ Ulrich said.
‘Can’t you guess?’ Ayvind said. He held the sword blade level, point directed at Ulrich.
Bodvar, on Ulrich’s right, took a step forward. Ayvind saw the move and swept the blade in his direction.
‘Back!’ he snarled. Bodvar retreated. Ayvind returned the sword to pointing at Ulrich.
‘Do I have to carve it out in runes for you, Ulrich?’ Ayvind said. ‘You’ve been a mere pawn in the game my master is playing.’
Ulrich, seemingly oblivious to the sword point that hovered a finger’s breadth away from his face, scratched his chin as if thinking.
‘Let’s see,’ he said. ‘The only reason I can think of that someone would want King Eirik to get a fake banner would be if that person wanted to deceive him in some way.’
‘Very good,’ Ayvind said. The broad grin on his face suggested he was enjoying himself. ‘Maybe you’re not as stupid as you look after all. My lord Hakon has the real banner. Didn’t you wonder where he and more than half of Aethelstan’s fleet had gone?’
‘Let me guess,’ Ulrich said, his face darkening. ‘Nidros?’
Ayvind’s grin got wider. ‘Nidros. Eirik has lost the support of the jarls in the north. Some in the south too. They asked Hakon to return and replace him as rightful king. He is a son of Harold just like Eirik.’
‘Are you trying to tell me that boy dreamed all this up?’ Ulrich said. ‘He may be Harald Fairhair’s son but he’s only fifteen winters old!’
‘Aethelstan!’ Skar said. ‘He’s behind this. He has to be. The whole invasion of Scotland. It’s—’
‘A distraction?’ Ayvind nodded. ‘In part. More a case of Aethelstan killing two birds with one stone. He has just cause to go to war with Constantine but it also provides a great cover for Hakon to slip across the North Sea. Eirik suspects nothing. If someone had reported ships sailing north, he would assume they are part of the attack on Scotland. By now it’s too late. Hakon will be in Nidros, raising the real Raven Banner. The people will flock to his cause.’
‘And Aethelstan will have his own lapdog on the throne of Norway,’ Ulrich said.
‘You despicable traitor, Ayvind,’ Einar said, his upper lip curled.
‘Me?’ Ayvind said. ‘You’ve played a big part in all this, Einar. Back in Jorvik after the girl’s first ridiculous attempt to steal the banner, Aethelstan ordered me to find out more about you, where you were s
taying and the like. He knew then his enemies were seeking the banner.’
‘So you weren’t really trying to help me out when you turned up at my inn?’ Gorm said.
‘Do you think a royal skald like me would really stoop to performing in a stinking hovel like that?’ Ayvind said. He sniffed. ‘We could not believe our luck when who walks in the door next but a crew of Eirik Bloody Axe’s Úlfhéðnar, looking for Einar, the girl and the banner. Aethelstan and Hakon sent me to make sure you found your way back to where the banner was.’
‘But we could have been killed at Cathair Aile,’ Einar said. ‘What use would that have been?’
‘Could have? The plan was that you would be killed,’ Ayvind said. ‘That’s why they let Gizur, Narfi and Bjorn escape during the battle. They were allowed to steal a ship and sailed back to Norway.’
Einar remembered standing above the gate of Cathair Aile, seeing the figures running towards the harbour.
‘They left before the rest of the fleet came,’ he said. ‘They wouldn’t have known Hakon’s ships didn’t arrive at Cathair Aile but sailed on out to sea.’
‘And Gizur, Narfi and Bjorn took the news to Eirik that Hakon is busy attacking Scotland,’ Ayvind said. ‘When you survived, Aethelstan and Siward realised they could use you further. One more trick to play on Eirik. I would go with you again, lead you by the nose, and give a fake banner to Eirik. When Hakon lets everyone know that Eirik does not have the real Raven Banner and he does, what man will be prepared to follow Bloody Axe? That won’t happen now thanks to this nosey bitch, but I think we’ve done enough anyway.’
Einar’s mind raced through everything since Ayvind had jumped into the sea beside him at the skerries off Ireland. The skald was right. They had been fools to trust him. Most of all himself. It was so out of character for the Ayvind he had known to do such a thing. Then there was the time in Edin Burh. Ayvind had disappeared when they went to be baptised. He must have gone to tell Hakon they were there. Again in Cathair Aile, he had been nowhere to be found since the start of the battle until they had seen him running to join Roan’s ship as it left the harbour. How had he been so blind?
‘Did our friendship mean nothing?’ Einar said. His voice was hoarse.
‘Friendship?’ Ayvind raised his eyebrows. Then his eyes looked sad. ‘Perhaps, if you hadn’t been so good a poet, it might have counted for something. But I was your teacher, Einar. I’m a famous skald who has performed at the courts of kings and jarls all over the world. Yet you are better than me. Do you know what that feels like? Of course not. Because you’ve never met anyone you weren’t better than. But it was something I could not abide.’
‘So now what?’ Ulrich said.
‘We sail for Nidros and meet with Hakon and the jarls of the north,’ Ayvind said.
‘You think we’ll just let you do that?’ Ulrich said.
For a long moment there was silence as Ayvind glared at Ulrich.
‘Your men will do what they’re told to when their leader is dead,’ Ayvind said.
He lunged forward, driving the sword at Ulrich’s face. He moved fast, but Ulrich had spent most of the last twenty winters of his life either practising to avoid such blows or avoiding them for real. Ayvind had spent the same time chanting poetry and drinking. Ulrich stepped sideways and the blade shot past his head, missing Ulrich’s ear by a hair’s breadth but doing no damage.
The other Wolf Coats surged forwards. Ayvind cried out and swept his sword to the right in a panic. Gorm was coming at him, hands outstretched. The end of the skald’s blade caught Gorm just behind his right ear. It sheared through his neck, opening a fearsome slash right across his throat. Bright blood erupted from the wound, spraying over Einar, Ayvind and Skar. Gorm’s mouth worked frantically without producing a sound as he crashed down to his knees then pitched forwards onto his face, his life blood gushing across the deck in a dark torrent.
Bodvar grabbed Ayvind’s sword hand and twisted the hilt. There was the loud cracking of bones as Bodvar wrenched the weapon from his grasp. Ayvind gasped with pain. Skar laid his right hand on Ayvind’s right shoulder and his left at the skald’s waist. Then he lifted Ayvind and pitched him backwards over the side.
The skald’s cry was cut short by the huge splash as he hit the water and went under. He came up again but by that time the ship had already moved on and Ayvind was in its wake.
‘Help me,’ he cried, waving one hand in the air as he beat with his other arm and legs to keep his head above the water.
‘You can fucking walk the rest of the way to Nidros, Ayvind,’ Ulrich shouted from the ship. He turned around and looked at Einar.
‘It seems this crew has need of new poet,’ he said. ‘Congratulations. You’ve got the job.’
Einar looked around. There was nothing but grey water as far as the eye could see. No land, no ships and nothing Ayvind could hope for salvation from. Somewhere deep below, Rán was pulling open the neck of her net. He swallowed at the thought of the cold, lonely death that would be Ayvind’s fate.
He crouched beside Gorm but the innkeeper was already dead. His face both an odd expression that seemed to be a mixture of frustration and rage, frozen now forever on his features by death. Shaking his head, Einar closed his friend’s eyes and stood up. He tried to ignore the plaintive cries from the sea that were now fading into the distance behind the ship.
‘Lucky for us you knew about that embroidery,’ Ulrich said to Affreca.
‘What embroidery?’ Affreca said, a smile playing on her lips.
‘You made that up?’ Einar said.
‘I suspected there was something fake about it,’ Affreca said. ‘But I didn’t know. I saw it as a child and it sent an odd chill through me. I didn’t get the same feeling when I saw it again. But I couldn’t prove it, so I made that up to see what he said. Ayvind didn’t know I was bluffing.’
Ulrich threw back his head and laughed. He patted Affreca on the shoulder.
‘Like I said, Skar,’ he turned to his Prow Man. ‘This one has potential. Now come on. Hakon has joined the rebels. King Eirik needs us more than ever.’
Fifty-One
Norway
Einar stood at the prow of Roan’s ship as they sailed up the narrow strait of the Karm Sound. In places the sea became narrow as a river. The countryside slid past on both sides. The snow was melting, exposing withered brown grass beneath. Here and there were settlements. Smoke drifted up into the grey sky from the fires inside the long houses.
Einar had never set foot in Norway yet there was much that was familiar to him. The houses were built exactly like those at home in Iceland. The people they saw too, were dressed almost the same, though in much brighter colours. Hair and beards were cut the same way.
‘What are you gawping at, lad?’ Skar said as he joined Einar at the prow.
‘I was always told that the coast of Norway was cleaved by narrow fjords that ran between cliffs as high as mountains,’ Einar said. He waved his hand at the low rolling hills dotted with the remains of the snow that lined the sound on both sides. ‘This looks a little like Scotland.’
‘It gets that way north of here,’ Skar said. ‘That coast to the west of us is really a huge island, Karm. This strait goes all the way up to Haugasund, then opens to the sea. Where we are now is the bottom of the whale road they call Norðr Vegr, the North Way.’
‘Northwards and netherwards,’ Einar said, feeling a little shiver go down his spine as he quoted the words of the old lore. ‘They say that is where the kingdom of Hel lies. But I’ve heard of this place. It’s also said that when the bridge to Asgard becomes too hot after a thunder storm, Thor wades up this channel on his way to make judgements at Yggdrasil.’
Ulrich appeared beside Skar.
‘So typical of that red-bearded lout,’ he said with a tut. ‘He wades up the sea when there’s perfectly good land to walk on. Doesn’t he cause the thunder in the first place?’
Roan’s ship sailed on up the strait, headi
ng ever further northward. As time went by Einar noticed they were passing a steady line of ships all heading south. The further north they got, the more frequent the ships going the other way became. Some were longships, some were knarrs like the one he was on; all were fully laden.
‘We seem to be going the opposite way to everyone else,’ he said.
‘Aye,’ Ulrich said, rubbing his chin. ‘There is something going on. I don’t know what.’
After some time, they came to a point where a peninsula jutted out from the western shore. It was the royal seat at Avaldsnes.
A jumble of boathouses and a dry dock lined the shore of the harbour while stone quays reached long fingers out into the cold waters of the sound. A forest of masts rose from the longships, knarrs and other vessels that thronged the quays or sat beached in the shallows. Beyond the harbour the promontory of the ness itself rose to a mound in the middle and on this the feasting hall of the king stood like a great whale rising up from the sea. At first Einar was surprised that there was no palisade or ditch around the royal residence, then realised that the ness it sat on provided protection enough. It was almost an island, surrounded on all sides by water except for one narrow strip of land which was the only way onto it. Apart from the natural harbour all other shores were rocky and offered no place to land a ship. He could see why for generations kings had made Avaldsnes their home.
‘We can be sure King Eirik is here,’ Ulrich said. ‘Otherwise there wouldn’t be so many ships in harbour.’
The harbour and quays thronged with men. They carried barrels, weapons and chests to the ships. It was not unlike the scene they had sailed away from in Cathair Aile.
‘I think we got here just in time,’ Skar said. ‘It looks like they’re preparing for a voyage.’
‘Everywhere we go people seem to be leaving,’ Bodvar said.
‘Eirik’s not the only one here,’ Bodvar added, pointing towards a longship docked in the harbour. Its sail was still unfurled and bore the emblem of a red raven.
The Raven Banner Page 27
