The iron lance cc-1

by Stephen Lawhead

  Before Murdo could think what to say, there came the sound of a dog – half-growling, half-whining-as if the animal were being mistreated. 'Jotun!' whispered Murdo.

  At that moment, a tall, fair-haired man entered the yard, pulling the resisting hound with a rope. He was dressed in leather breecs, tall boots of soft leather, and a tunic of undyed wool; he carried a stick in his hand, and every time Jotun tried to pull away, he struck the dog sharply on the back.

  'You there!' shouted Murdo stepping away from the door. 'Stop that!'

  The man spun towards the sound, took in Murdo at a glance, and said, 'Who are you to tell me what to do?'

  'Let the dog loose,' Murdo said.

  In response to this, the man, without moving, raised his voice and shouted at the house. 'Bjorn! Kali! Come here!'

  A moment later, two men emerged from the house. Like the first, they were dressed in leather breecs and tunics; one was fair-haired, and the other dark, but both were tall and armed with swords and knives, the blades of which were thrust through their wide brown belts.

  Hin took one look at the swords and backed towards the barn, ready to flee.

  The two men regarded the newcomers impassively, but before either of them could speak, Murdo demanded, 'Who are you, and what is your business here?'

  The dark-haired intruder answered. 'Keep a respectful tongue, boy,' he said quietly. 'What is your name?'

  'I am Lord Ranulf's son,' Murdo replied, his voice loud in defiance. 'It is his land you are trespassing, and his hound you are beating.' Gesturing behind him at the barn door, he added, 'And it is Lord Ranulf's men you are murdering.'

  'Bjorn! Do not let him -' the man with the stick began.

  'Quiet, Arn,' the dark-haired man muttered, and stood eyeing Murdo cautiously.

  'These lands belong to Prince Sigurd now,' the intruder told him, taking a slow step forward. 'We have taken them in the prince's name.'

  'Jarl Erlend will hear of this!' Murdo charged. 'If you do not leave at once, I will go to the jarl and tell him what you have done. He will send his house carles against you.'

  'No,' the one called Bjorn said, taking another step closer, 'I do not think he will do as you say. Hear now, King Magnus has taken possession of Orkneyjar unto himself and he has given the rule of the islands to his son.'

  'Liar!' cried Murdo, anger rising within him like a tight-balled fist. 'Jarl Erlend would raise the war host against anyone who tried to steal these lands.'

  The two fair-haired Norsemen laughed, but their dark-haired comrade gazed solemnly at the boy before him. 'I am telling you the truth,' he said. 'The jarl gave up without a fight. He and his worthless brother Paul have been taken hostage to the king's court in Norway. Prince Sigurd rules here now, and he has given the lands hereabouts to our lord.'

  Murdo could not believe what he was hearing. How was it possible such momentous events should take place without his knowing?

  'You are lying,' Murdo declared again. 'Who is this lord of yours?'

  'Our lord is Orin Broad-Foot, advisor to Prince Sigurd,' Bjorn told him, taking another slow step nearer. 'He has gone to Kirkjuvagr to establish his claim of possession to Dyrness and its holdings. But he has commanded me to make an offer of peace with any who should come after.'

  'What offer?' demanded Murdo, suspicion making his voice shrill. 'The same offer you gave \imV He pointed to poor dead Fossi nailed to the door.

  'Aye, he had his chance, but took it into his head to fight,' the dark-haired intruder replied. 'Do not make the same mistake. Swear fealty to King Magnus, and you will live.'

  'And if we should refuse?' sneered Murdo.

  'Then, like the man on yonder door, you will die,' Bjorn answered indifferently. 'Now, it does not have to be that way. Lord Orin needs workers; vassals are no good to him dead.'

  Stung by the cruel injustice of the demand, Murdo could not speak. To become vassals on the land they rightly owned and ruled-the thing was unthinkable.

  'It is the land he wants, not blood, boy,' Bjorn said. 'Just you come with us, and we will see you are treated right.'

  'We mean you no harm,' insisted Arn, holding tight to Jotun's collar. 'Come along peaceful and quiet now. We will go see Lord Orin and you can talk to him about it.'

  'To the devil with you all,' growled Murdo.

  Bjorn, having narrowed the distance between himself and his prey, leaped forward with an agility that surprised Murdo. But the younger man was the quicker, and Murdo ducked, driving his shoulder into the intruder's stomach as he lunged. To Murdo's amazement, the dark-haired man was lifted off his feet and thrown backward. 'Get him!' he screamed at his comrades, who stood looking on in flat-footed wonder.

  The one called Kali ran at Murdo and made a clumsy grab, which the young man easily eluded. Murdo dodged aside and made to run between Kali and the fallen warrior, but Bjorn kicked out as he darted past, sweeping Murdo's legs from under him. Murdo landed on his side in the dirt, and Kali was on him instantly.

  Hard hands seized him and he was jerked roughly to his feet. Bjorn rose up before him, drew back his arm and struck Murdo on the face with the back of his hand. Murdo's teeth rattled with the force of the blow and red-and-black fireballs spun before his eyes. His legs lost strength and he slumped to his knees.

  Bjorn, cursing the boy's audacity, raised his arm to strike again. Kali, gripping his arms, hauled him upright, and Murdo braced himself for the blow. The hand started forward, but faltered halfway to the mark as Jotun, seeing his master in trouble, pulled free from his captor's grasp. Arn darted after him, but the great wolfhound took two bounds, leapt, and seized the offending arm in his teeth.

  Murdo heard a shriek of pain as Bjorn was yanked sideways and down. Kali, in his haste to help his companion, abandoned his charge and shoved Murdo aside; he drew his sword and ran to where the hound was doing his best to wrest the dark-haired intruder's arm from his shoulder.

  'Jotun!' shouted Murdo, desperate to draw the dog away before Kali could strike. 'Here, Jotun!' But the fair-haired warrior stepped in and the sword, clutched tight in both hands, swung up over his head.

  Then, even as the sword descended, Kali was struck from behind and thrown forward, losing his balance. The blow fell awry, striking the big dog a glancing stroke on the shoulder.

  Murdo sensed a rush of motion towards him. Suddenly Hin was there, lifting him to his feet. 'Run, Master Murdo! Run!'

  His ears still ringing from the blow to his face, Murdo shook his head to clear it. 'This way!' he said, dashing for the barn. 'Jotun, come!'

  The hound obeyed and all three ran for the gap in the door, leaving the three intruders stumbling in momentary confusion. Bjorn quickly came to his senses, however; clutching his bleeding arm he shouted for Kali and Arn to give chase. Then, turning towards the house, Bjorn bellowed for help.

  Murdo glanced back over his shoulder as they disappeared into the darkened interior of the barn, and his heart sank to see four more Norsemen emerge from the house. Without a quiver of hesitation Murdo made for the far wall of the huge barn, dodging around the grain wagons and carefully stacked bundles of straw.

  He reached the back wall and crouched down, searching for a small door-little more than a flap of wood hinged with leather -cut in the back wall of the barn some time in the past to allow pigs to get in out of the rain. It was unused now, but Murdo remembered it, and thought that if they could reach it before the warriors saw them, they might gain a few precious moments to make their escape. He ran along the wall for a few paces, found the door, and pushed it open.

  'This way,' he said, shoving Hin through ahead of him.

  Murdo ducked through next and held the flap for Jotun. Shouts from inside the barn told him their secret would soon be discovered. 'Run for the boat,' said Hin, breathless with fear.

  'No,' Murdo warned, 'they would see us and follow us to the bay. Even if we outran them, we would never cast off in time.'

  'What, then?' whispered Hin desperately.
>
  'This way.' Murdo dashed for the corner of the barn, reached it, and slid around to the other side. He then ran along the side of the barn to the yard. As he expected, all the warriors had joined the pursuit and were now inside the barn. He and Hin darted across the yard to the side of the house and disappeared around the corner, Jotun following at their heels.

  'Listen, to me now,' Murdo said. 'The old barrow-south of the bay-do you know it?'

  Hin nodded. 'I know it, yes. I think so.'

  'Make for it. You can hide there and they will never find you.'

  'Inside the grave mound?'

  'There is nothing to fear,' Murdo told him, thinking of the hunting game he and his brothers had played for years. 'I have done it a hundred times.' He slapped Hin on the shoulder to awaken his courage. 'Go now. Take Jotun with you and wait for me. I will meet you there.'

  'Meet me?' wondered Hin worriedly. 'But where are you going?'

  'I must lead them a false trail or they will go directly to the bay,' Murdo explained. 'Go now. I will join you at the barrow, and we will take the cliff trail to the bay. Hurry! before they see you.'

  Hin, shaking with fear, spoke a command to the hound and, putting his hand to the dog's heavy collar, started off across the field behind the house at a run. Murdo waited until he was well away, then crept back along the side of the house and peered around the corner. The yard was empty, so he started across-as if he meant to escape down the track leading to the house.

  He reached the entrance to the yard and heard Bjorn's voice cry out behind him. Without so much as a backward glance, Murdo started off, smiling to himself. The chase was on.

  TEN

  The old grave mound had been raised by the first inhabitants of Dyrness in times past remembering. It was a single long chamber marked out and roofed over with great slabs of stone and covered with earth. Its low entrance opened onto the sea, and from any distance its shallow hump appeared as nothing more than a hillock of grassy turf.

  There was an old tale that the People of the Otter had built the mound as a tomb for their revered dead; there might have been something in this, so far as Murdo knew, for some men near Orphir had once found skulls and leg bones, beads, and carved stones in a similar mound; even so, he had never found anything but bits of shell and a few otter teeth, and he had been inside many times.

  By the time he reached the tumulus, Murdo was out of breath. He had led the intruders a furious chase, allowing them tantalizing glimpses of him as he drew them further and further away from the coast, before losing them in the bracken of the valley. He then doubled back to the hill and, when he was certain he was not followed any longer, raced along the cliff track to the barrow.

  'Hin,' he called softly, kneeling at the small dark entrance. 'Jotun.'

  He waited a moment. When he did not receive any reply, he called again. Again, there was no answer, so Murdo knelt down and, cursing Hin's stupidity, wormed his way into the mound. The interior was cool and still as any cavern. He knew, before opening his mouth to call for the third and last time, that Hin was not there.

  He backed out and climbed to the top of the mound and lay down on his stomach, scanning the fields between the cliff-top and the house. There was no sign of Hin, nor was there any sign of Lord Orin's men.

  The devil take him, thought Murdo angrily, as he slid down the rounded rump of the mound. He had little choice now but to make for the cove and hope that Hin, having grown tired of waiting, had ignored his instructions and gone there instead.

  Murdo struck off along the coast track, adopting a peculiar low trot which, though uncomfortable, would keep him out of sight from the house and surrounding fields. Upon reaching the bay a short while later, he looked down to the strand below, saw the boat, Peder, and his mother standing nearby-but neither Hin nor Jotun were anywhere to be seen.

  He scrambled down the stepped path. 'Where is Hin?' he called as soon as his feet touched the sand.

  'He went with you and has not returned,' his mother replied, hurrying to meet him. 'Why? What has happened, Murdo?'

  'Intruders have taken the house,' he informed her. 'They killed Fossi -'

  'No!'

  'Yes – killed with the sword. The intruders chased us, but we got away,' Murdo explained. 'I told Hin to wait for me at the barrow. I was just there, but could not find him.'

  'Why would they kill Fossi?' asked Niamh, struggling to keep her voice steady as the shock of his words struck her.

  'I will explain it later.' With that he turned and started away again. 'Stay here.'

  'Murdo, no!' she cried, even as she marvelled at her son's courage.

  'I am going to find Hin,' he shouted behind him. 'Help Peder make ready to sail. Put to sea as soon as you see us on the cliff.'

  Murdo reached the tumulus and, once again, called for Hin. Receiving no reply, he edged around the side of the mound and looked back towards the bu. As his eyes swept the expanse of empty fields, he heard a shout in the distance, looked in the direction of the sound and saw Hin running to meet him, Jotun loping easily at his side.

  Stepping quickly from behind the mound, Murdo put his hands to his mouth and urged them to hurry. Even as his shout hung in the air, the intruders appeared-four big men, armed with spears.

  They were gaining on Hin, but Murdo reckoned he would reach the cove before the intruders could catch him. 'Run!' he cried. 'They are onto you, man! Run for your life!'

  Hin put his head down and ran the harder. Seeing his master, Jotun, too, increased his pace. Murdo thought to run back to help ready the boat for their escape, but could not tear himself away from the chase before him. He could not help Hin by staying; neither could he leave. 'Faster!' he cried.

  Murdo glanced across the cliff-top towards the hidden cove, torn between going and staying. He looked back to the chase just in time to see Hin stumble and fall headlong to the ground. 'Get up!' cried Murdo, dashing towards his fallen friend.

  Hin regained his feet in an instant, and started running again. The wild whoops of the pursuers pierced the air, and Murdo, crying encouragement, raced empty-handed to the rescue.

  He had taken but a dozen steps, however, when the hapless Hin, risking a look behind him, tangled his feet and went down again. He sprang up and ran on-but not as fast as before, his gait laboured. One of the foremost pursuers, seeing a chance, put back his arm and, with a mighty heave, loosed his spear into the air. The shaft landed only a few paces behind the struggling Hin.

  Murdo cursed the brute's cowardly heart, and shouted for Hin to hurry. The second spear was in the air before Murdo drew breath again. He watched the deadly thing arc and fall beside his friend. Hin ran on.

  'Hin! Jotun!' cried Murdo. He could see Hin's face now, and knew he was injured. 'Come, you both! The boat is waiting!'

  Murdo did not see the third spear thrown-merely the cruel glint of the blade in the air as it dropped, and then Hin's face as he felt it strike home. The force of the blow carried him forward a few steps before he fell.

  Murdo halted and stood gazing in horror at the spearshaft protruding from Hin's back. Jotun, too, sensing the terrible distress of the human with him, turned and began pulling at the wooden shaft as if he would draw it with his teeth.

  Hin made to rise. He pushed himself up on stiff arms and looked to Murdo. White-faced, eyes wide and bulging, the unlucky youth opened his mouth to call out, but collapsed as the foemen rushed upon him.

  Murdo spun away and did not look back-not even when he heard the cheers of the victors. The world became a blur around him-grass, rocks, sea, sky – everything melted and merged, and Murdo ran as he had never run in all his life, rage and fear lending speed to his flight. He ran, tears in his eyes and a curse between his teeth. Upon reaching the cove, he flung himself headlong down the cliff-side, shouting, 'Go! Go! Go!'

  The boat was in the water a few dozen paces from the shore. Peder had already turned the vessel; the prow was pointing seaward.

  'Go!' Murdo shouted, a
nd saw the oars strike the water. 'Row!'

  The invaders gained the top of the promontory and started down the narrow trail. Murdo leapt the last few steps, and fell sprawling on elbows and knees in the deep sand.

  He heard his mother scream, and he scrambled forward, crab-like, hands and feet churning. In the same instant, a spear struck the sand in the very place he had landed. Half-rolling, half-running, he struggled on, the soft sand dragging at his feet.

  'Row!' cried Murdo. 'Row, Peder!'

  Behind him, Orin's men, having sighted the boat and its passengers, loosed wild whoops and flew down the cliff-side trail.

  Murdo gained the water's edge and splashed to his knees in two bounds, then lunged into a dive and came up swimming, all the time shouting 'Row, Peder! Row!'

  The boat had increased its distance from the shore, and was moving more quickly now as Peder's swift sure oar-strokes carried it forward. For an awful moment, Murdo thought he would not be able to swim fast enough to catch it. Tired from his run, he could already feel the strength ebbing from his arms and legs. His lungs burned and he felt himself sinking lower in the water.

  Closing his eyes, Murdo swam until he thought his heart would burst. He heard a voice call out to him, and felt something hard strike him and wrap him in stiff coils. He opened his eyes to see that his mother had thrown a rope. He grabbed it and felt himself drawn through the water.

  Three heartbeats later, he bumped against the side of the boat, reached up a hand and somehow grasped the rail. Then his mother's hands were on him, hauling him up from the sea; he kicked his legs and was dragged over the rail. He slid into the bottom of the boat and lay gasping and panting like a landed salmon.

  His mother, bending over him, brushed the water from his face and searched him with her eyes. 'I-I,' he wheezed, 'I am-not hurt.'

  There came a raw cry from the beach and Niamh turned towards the sound. Murdo, pushing himself up, leaned against the side of the boat and looked back at the beach to see a dark mass streaking across the sand towards the water.

  'Jotun!' cried Murdo.