The Wolf Sea o-2

by Robert Low

  Are you?' I countered.

  `No! I am a good Christian,' he said indignantly. 'I believe in God.' Nearby, Brother John nodded appreciatively. Encouraged, the Goat Boy added: 'But you believe in lots of false gods, Brother John says.'

  'Fere libenter homines id quod volunt credunt,' I said and Brother John coughed and grinned, though the Goat Boy did not understand.

  `Men are nearly always willing to believe what they wish,' I translated. I did not know who had first said it, but he had a Norse head on his shoulders. The Goat Boy was none the wiser. Anyway,' I added, 'once the Greeks had lots of gods, too.'

  `The monks in Larnaca said we lived in fear of them until we saw the light,' the boy said sombrely.

  Brother John chuckled. 'The truth is, young John, that those gods feared us, envied us, for they could not die. Without the threat of death, how can you feel the joy of life?'

  Unlike our gods,' I added, 'who know they will all die one day, to make a greater life for all afterwards.

  That's why All-Father Odin is so grim.'

  The Goat Boy looked from me to Brother John and back. `But isn't that what the church teaches us about Christ, Brother John?'

  `Just so,' Brother John agreed and the Goat Boy's brow wrinkled with confusion, until Finn slid over in a scrabble of stones and shoved goat cheese and bread at him.

  `Give it up, biarki,' he growled, scowling at the pair of us. `Talking about gods just makes your head hurt.'

  They sidled away together and Brother John laughed softly again. 'I don't think we enlightened that little bear,' he offered, then looked at me sideways. 'All the same, I thought you had found God, young Orm.'

  I have heard many rumours,' I replied flatly, 'but I have never met the man.'

  Brother John pursed his lips. 'You are growing darker,' he said seriously. 'And your dreams are blacker still. Careful you do not fall into the Abyss, Orm, for you will be lost there.'

  I was saved a reply by the return of Hedin Flayer and Halfred Hookeye, who had been scouting over the other side of the ridge, looking at the huddle of houses that was Kato Lefkara.

  `There are armed men there,' Hedin reported, 'maybe fifty, with shields and spears and blades, too, but no armour and only black turbans on their heads. But they have bows, Bear Slayer, and can pick us off as we cross the open ground.'

  `Horsemen?'

  Hookeye shook his head. 'Nor any sign. The ones who fought us did not come here.'

  I did not think they would. They would have ridden straight to Farouk, to tell him what had happened and now he would be riding here, for some of those riders would have heard me say this was our destination.

  I looked at the darkening sky.

  `There are people there, too,' Hedin said, sucking shreds of goat to try and soften it enough to chew.

  Of course there are. It is a village,' Finn growled, but Hedin shook his head.

  `Children and women, with cloths covering their faces. That's not Greek, is it?'

  No, it was a Serkland thing. Of course this Farouk wasn't a simple robber, he was one of the lords who had been told by the Miklagard Emperor to quit Cyprus and had decided to stay and fight, and had all his people with him. Now he had a town and a couple of villages and was a real threat.

  `We will hit them at last light,' I said, `so that they will find it hard to use their bows. All we have to do is get to the church and find this thing Balantes wants. Then we get out and away.'

  Are we stealing it then?' Hookeye asked and even some of his own oarmates chuckled.

  `That's what we do, you arse,' answered Hedin Flayer, punching him on the arm.

  I left them to chew on it, for I had another problem — what to do with the badly wounded. One was already shaking with wound-fever and the other was hamstrung, would never walk properly again, though he could still sit a horse.

  The fevered one was an old oarmate called Ofeig, the one who had stepped on the raven claw, I realised.

  Such a simple little wound, a nithing cut that had come to this in half a day, no more. There was, then, some poison there and I made a mental note to warn the men who scattered them to take more care, then felt ashamed for reeling with future plans while a good man lay dying.

  Brother John sat with him, placing damp cloths on his forehead and muttering his healing chants, crossing himself and clasping his hands. 'I pray to Earth and High Heaven, the sun and St Mary and Lord God himself, that he grant me medicinal hands and healing tongue to heal Ofeig of the shivering disease.

  From back and from breast, from body and from limb, from eyes and from ears, from wherever evil can enter him. .

  It wasn't about to make a hacksilver of difference. Finn knelt on the other side and Ofeig opened his eyes and grinned weakly, while the sweat oozed from him like water from a ripe cheese.

  I had expected a prettier Valkyrie,' he said, knowing well what was coming.

  Finn nodded soberly. No Valkyries were pretty, we knew. They came riding wolves to heave the chosen dead away, savage and merciless — but there was a time for gentle lying.

  `There is one waiting,' he said in a voice as soft as any new lamb. 'She has hair the colour of red-gold, breasts like pillows, eyes only for you and wonders what is taking you so long.'

  His great, calloused hand closed over the brow of Ofeig, who stiffened — then a fresh spasm of shivering took him.

  `Fair journey, Ofeig,' said Finn and his other hand stroked the razor edge across Ofeig's throat, then held him down, the blood spreading slowly over his chest, bubbling in spurts like a hot spring as he choked and died, congealing like thick gruel.

  After a while, Finn straightened, wiping first his hands, then the blade — the one I had given him, that he had called the Priest — on Ofeig's breeks. He looked at me over the dead eyes. 'Next time, you do it,' he said and I was ashamed, remembering how Einar had done it when he lived. It was a jarl-task right enough.

  `You can piss off coming for me,' growled Sumarlidi, the one with the cut hamstring, hauling himself to a sitting posture and jerking out his scramseax. 'I have one good leg left and after that I can still crawl.'

  `Then crawl to your horse and get on it,' I snapped at him, and get ready to ride hard.'

  `Hop to it,' added Finn and wheezed with laughter.

  We huddled just under the brow of the ridge, so that if I raised my head only a little, I could see the silhouette of buildings, the dominating dome of the church of the Archangel Michael and the yellow glow of lights and fires, which only made the chill of the night wind colder and the dark blacker than ever.

  When the leprous moon started to cast a shadow in between the shrouds of dark cloud, I gave a signal and the men rose up to a crouch and started to filter down the hill, scuttling like beetles. The scuff and clink of them made me wince, certain someone would hear it, but no alarm was sounded, and then we were crossing the first of the rickety fences, into the garden plots behind some houses.

  Finn turned to grin at me and I saw he had his Roman nail in his teeth, one of the metal spikes he had used to mark out the holmgang, which he gnawed like a dog with a bone. His teeth ground down on it, preventing him from bursting into full-throated roar until I gave the signal. Slaver dripped from it as I nodded.

  He spat the nail into his hand and threw back his head, howling like a mad wolf. The cry went up from all our throats, then we lurched forward into the houses.

  I trotted forward, heading for the church, hearing the panicked screams and shrieks as the Oathsworn ripped through the village. I passed some huts and houses, heard doors crack under axes, the thump of booted feet and screams. A robed figure skidded round the side of a building, slammed into a mud wall, looking back over his shoulder. Then he turned, saw me and ran back the way he had come, straight into a skewering spear.

  A woman screamed and, through the door, I saw her flung to the ground, two men frantically fumbling down their breeches and I cursed. It would be the Danes, who hadn't tasted that sweetness in five years
. I should have planned for that.

  I trotted across the square, saw Finn and yelled to him. Sighvat burst out of a building, saw me and ran across, laughing. Hookeye appeared, an arrow nocked and his bow straining. He grinned in a wolfish way and looked like he had been caught with his hand in my purse for a moment, then shrugged. The four of us headed for the dark entrance to the church, a narrow way only one man wide.

  It was far too late, for the smart ones had already gone in and barred the door and the church had been designed as a refuge. The narrow entrance was a passage, which sloped down, then up to a stout door, making a ram impossible to use. On the roof above, I saw holes and barely jumped aside as a spearhead thrust down, then back, like the tongue of a snake.

  Keeping to the sides, we slid up, studied the door, then slithered our backs down the wall to the entrance and out. I wandered to the middle of the village square, to a well surrounded by a series of water troughs, stopped and sat down, resting my shield on my knees and my sword on one shoulder, listening to the shrieks and screams, seeing the figures flit like dark bats. Then there was the bright flare of flame and a roof collapsed.

  Finn growled and I wearily nodded. He trotted off, dragging Hookeye with him, who seemed inclined to stay near me, yelling at them to put the fire out or he would tear their arms off and beat out the flames with the wet ends.

  It's a fortress, that gods-cursed Christ dome,' Sighvat said. `We'll have to burn them out.'

  `No,' I said. 'Same problem as last time. . what we want is in there and will burn with them.'

  `We can burn the door, same as last time,' he answered and rose, cupped water in his hands and splashed his face. Shaking himself like a dog, he wandered off, looking to drag a few others into fetching dry wood and anything that would burn.

  Two figures, laughing and yelling, chased a shrieking woman from a house and Sighvat polearmed one of them to the ground; he was Arnfinn, an old hand, I saw. His friend skidded to a halt, confused.

  I need you pair,' he said and Arnfinn's companion, seeing the woman shrieking round a corner and gone, snarled at Sighvat for the loss.

  `Who made you a chief?' he growled, hefting a bloody axe.

  `He did,' said Sighvat amiably, jerking a thumb at me. I waved. 'And this did,' he added, slamming the flat of his blade into the man's mouth. He went over spitting teeth and blood. Arnfinn got to his feet and grinned, shamed now at behaving like a raw beginner.

  `Didn't expect that when you said to grab the woman, eh, Lambi?' he chuckled, hauling the bloody-mouthed man to his feet. 'What is it that you are wanting us for, Sighvat?'

  While Sighvat explained, I heard hoofs and nearly wet myself, then I saw Brother John and the Goat Boy leading in the horses, the wounded Sumarlidi waving a spear while holding a shield and trying to keep his balance, for he was no good rider.

  `Help me down, help me down,' he snarled. 'It's too far off the ground up here.'

  Brother John and I dragged him down and the Goat Boy gawped at what was going on round him.

  `You should have kept him away from sights like this,' grumbled Sumarlidi to Brother John as he dragged himself to the edge of the well. That leg of his, I saw, was ruined completely, a useless thing that might as well not be there at all, for it served no purpose for him now and was a dead weight he'd drag about for the rest of his life.

  I think he is well used to them already,' Brother John declared. Tede pes et cuspide cuspis, arma sonant armis, vir petiturque viro — it is the way of things round here, I am thinking.'

  If I knew what it meant, I would know more,' answered Sumarlidi. There was a pause as the burning house fell in with a roar and a cloud of flying embers. Finn yelled and cuffed left and right.

  It means people are always fighting in these lands,' I told Sumarlidi. 'How's the leg?'

  Useless,' he grunted and eyed me warily. 'But stay a blade length from me, Bear Slayer — I want no Valkyrie visits just yet.'

  `Nor am I planning any such thing,' I snapped, angry with him now Was I some butcher here?

  `You'll beg for the Priest before long, One Leg,' growled Finn, coming up in time to hear the last of this exchange. His face was smeared with soot.

  It took an hour to sort out the chaos and collect a sorry, panting bunch, two of whom were already drunk, three dripping blood and one with claw marks down the side of his face.

  I had her skirts up,' he was telling the man next to him, and getting no protests. Then I thought to see what I was getting, so I took the cover from her face. She went crazed at that, kicking and bucking and screaming. Clawed my face. Best hump I've had. .'

  `Stow it,' ordered Finn and the man's mouth closed with a click.

  I told them what I thought and laid it on thick as a slab of week-old porridge. I warned them that if anyone disobeyed me again I would let them walk their entrails round the pole.

  I was beginning to enjoy Starkad's vision now, for it was a good one and much better than the hoary old blood-eagle. Old beards like these would laugh at that threat, since it was more boast than fact, though there was a nut of truth in it, for Hedin Flayer hinted he had his name for having done it once, raiding the Liv lands along the Baltic. Or so he said. Others said it was because his craft was hunting wolves for the pelts, which I thought more likely.

  At the end of my rant, they shuffled off silently, knowing that they had made a mistake, for only a handful of the robed Saracens were dead and, though the rest had fled, a good two handfuls were locked up in the domed church and it would be a harder fight now to get them out.

  So we sat in the square while men scuttled in the narrow doorway, braving the spears to stack wood and start burning through the door, while I fretted about Farouk and his horsemen. I posted watchers and sent Hookeye and Hedin out into the darkness to listen, but there was nothing to do but wait, while the smoke billowed out of the narrow church door-passage.

  Now that there was time for it, the men were reluctant to go plundering and humping, fearing the arrival of more Sarakenoi — though Sumarlidi pestered them to go and find a woman for him, since he wasn't so nimble on his feet. After long minutes of his whining, two men went off and dragged back a whimpering woman, whom he perched on the edge of the trough and grunted over while the Goat Boy watched with interest. No one else cared.

  Eventually, Sighvat reported that the fire was out, had done some damage, but the defenders had soaked the door and were even pouring wine down through the murder holes in the roof to try and soak the place.

  `Which means they have used all the water,' Brother John pointed out.

  `Which means they are not planning on a long stay,' I finished for him. 'Farouk and his horsemen are expected.'

  That sprang the crew into action, for they knew that a second encounter with those would be a hard fight not in our favour. They would use bows this time, standing off and snicking us one by one, like loose threads off the cuff of a tunic.

  That passageway was a tricky opening, for it allowed only one at a time, though it widened at the actual door to three. The wood was charred, but still solid, so we piled in and formed shields over our heads to keep off the stabbing spears from above. Under this crept Finn and others armed with axes to chop at the door.

  It was sweaty, noisy work, fetid with the stink of men afraid and, after half an hour, Finn gave a bellow of triumph, for the upper left corner had splintered into a small hole. Frenzied, he hacked and hacked, spraying wood chips everywhere, while the men behind closed up, down on one knee under the roof of shields and ready to spring forward.

  Without warning, a spear thrust through the hole, fast as an eye blinking. Finn was on a downstroke, which was Odin luck for him, for the weapon scored across his shoulder and into the throat of the man behind, who gurgled out a scream and fell backwards.

  There was chaos then, for the felled man screamed and kicked and had to be dragged out. In the end, everyone abandoned the work and staggered out into the chill night air, gasping and spitting. The man -<
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  Lambi, the one whose teeth had been dunted by Sighvat's sword, I saw — was already dead, leaking a slow pulse of blood, which finally stopped.

  We all looked at one another and no one spoke their thoughts, which were darker than the night.

  `What we need is a battering ram,' I said.

  `With a bend in the middle,' Finn pointed out wryly.

  `We could use your tozzle,' Sighvat pointed out to Finn, who chuckled harshly.

  `Too few men around to carry that,' he answered, but his eyes had no laugh in them when he looked back at that narrow doorway.

  Then the Goat Boy came up, his eyes wide, pointing behind him while he fixed me with his dark-cat gaze.

  One Leg has gone in the well,' he declared.

  Odin's arse — could this night get any worse?

  `The Norns weave in threes, Trader,' Finn said wearily when I yelled this out. Everyone trooped across to the well, where Brother John was holding the shivering woman by one wrist and peering into the dark of it.

  `She pushed him off,' Brother John explained, 'while he was trying to. . never mind. But he fell in and hasn't made a sound since.'

  Finn shrugged and grabbed the bucket rope, took up the slack and his eyes widened when he felt resistance. He got three others to help and, slowly, the bucket was inched up until Sumarlidi's legs flopped over the edge and they hauled him out.

  His neck was broken and his wide-eyed face still looked surprised about it. Nearby, the Arab woman huddled, moaning softly.

  `There's no more for him, then,' sighed Brother John sadly and Finn agreed with a sound deep in his throat, part sympathy, part disgust.

  A straw death, right enough,' he said and shivered.

  I saw it differently, through the ring of that jarl torc. It seemed to me that if you fastened a good steel helm on him, he would make a battering ram with a bend in the middle.

  Sumarlidi was better use in death than he had been in life, but by the time the door was broken open, even his mother would have missed him at his own corpse-washing. The helmet was rimmed into the flesh of his brow, so that it was never coming off, so we burned him with it jammed down to his eyebrows and Finn killed the Arab woman and put her at his feet, in the hope that this in some way made up for the death he had died.