“I understand. It’s highly unusual for a crime of this kind to have no witnesses at all, Eyvind. Your brother, placed as he is among the remnants of those men who sailed to High Island, might be in a position to gather information for you.”
“It must be quick, I think. Who knows how soon spring will be here? But I don’t want to put Eirik at any risk. Getting home safe to his woman and children in Rogaland is his first wish.”
“Then I will simply lay things before him as best I can and leave the choice in his own hands,” Tadhg said quietly.
“I am grateful. You’re a man of great courage. But you should take care. There are some on this island who have little respect for what you represent. I think even a priest must guard his speech and watch his step now.”
“We are all God’s children, whatever our beliefs,” said the brother. “He holds us in his hand. If we can protect these innocent people from farther losses, we are bound to do so. I frowned once to see those matching scars, yours and his; it disquieted me to learn of the bond between you. But that very link may be our most potent weapon. If it gives you the power to alter Somerled’s course, to turn him from his dark pathway, then you may yet make all good. Be brave, warrior. Hold fast to the truth.”
“That was what she said,” Eyvind whispered. “We can make things bright and good again.”
“If she can hold on to that hope,” said Tadhg, “after such terrible losses, then it should not be so difficult for us. Now I must be off; Brother Lorcan does tend to fret when people are late. Farewell, Eyvind. I hope we may meet again in better times.”
“Farewell, and thank you. You should find Eirik staying with a man called Thord, a big fellow with a scar on his face. The cottage is at the eastern end of the settlement, by the water. Tell him to be careful.”
“I will. Go with God, Eyvind.”
Eyvind walked on as fast as he could, cursing his weakness. Once, before Ramsbeck, he could have covered this whole distance easily between sunup and midday. Now he would be lucky if he reached Somerled’s hall before darkness fell. His mind was on Eirik, and the good times back home in Hammarsby: the snow fights, the long solitary walks under the dark pines, the exhilaration of speeding across the wide expanse of the ice-hardened river. Then there were those long evenings by the fire, warm together in the light of seal-oil lamps while the snow fell outside, blanketing the longhouse in quiet: the women’s fingers fashioning things of beauty with needle and fine wool, Karl carving a tiny walrus from soapstone, and Bjarni frowning over his pattern board. He could imagine Eirik telling some tale of battles won, watched by dark-haired Oksana and her small, blue-eyed sons. Eyvind felt a wave of cold pass over him. Eirik must go home, he had folk waiting for him there. He should not have asked Tadhg to find Eirik. When the Golden Dragon sailed again for Rogaland, his brother must be on board, fit and well. They owed that to Ingi, and to all who waited, counting the days until their men came home again. It was strange, Eyvind thought, feeling the deep aching of his legs as he climbed a rise between dark, looming rocks—it was quite strange that he could no longer see himself anywhere in this vision. For one reason or another, it seemed to him that he would not be going back.
By the time he reached the outer perimeter of the settlement, his legs felt as if they scarcely belonged to him, and his sight was blurred by the throbbing in his head. The place was surprisingly quiet; only a few torches burned in the creeping dusk, and there was no movement of folk. The sentries challenged him; he stepped forward into the light, helm safely under his arm this time, and saw terror blanch their faces and cause their swords to shake in their hands before he summoned words of reassurance.
“Easy, lads,” he said. “I’m no ghost, but flesh and blood: the same man who shared your voyage from Rogaland last spring and sat with you at table many a night. I’ve been away. Sick. Now I am returned and I must see Somerled without delay. Will you let me pass?”
“Eyvind!” The man’s tone suggested there might still be some doubt. “You’re alive!”
“Most certainly.” Eyvind slapped the fellow on the shoulder, and felt the ache in every muscle of his arm. It was just as well he had not been called upon to draw sword or brandish axe, for he doubted he’d the strength to lift either right now. “Feel this? I am no specter, but a living man.”
“Maybe so, but you seem far from yourself, Wolfskin,” observed the other fellow, an older man who had been one of Ulf’s household guards. “You’re nothing but skin and bone. Best be off indoors and stir the women to find you a bit of roast meat and a pot or two of ale. Then you’ll want to be away again, no doubt.”
The first man nodded. “You got here just in time. That’ll please the king well.”
Eyvind’s head was fuzzy; he didn’t seem to be understanding. “King?” he echoed.
“Not yet, maybe, but he will be by morning.”
Through the pounding of his head, Eyvind struggled to comprehend. “What do you mean?” he asked. “Who?”
The younger guard raised his brows. “Where’ve you been?” he queried in amazement. “Somerled Horse-Master, of course, King of Hrossey. I’ll tell you something, that fellow may seem hard at times, but there’s a man who knows how to make up his mind quickly and step forward without hesitation. A true leader, he is.”
There was a shadow in Eyvind’s thoughts, though he still struggled to piece together the full meaning of the man’s words. “I must see Somerled,” he said, “now, straightaway. I must talk to him, and persuade him—”
“He’s not here,” said the older guard. “They left a while back. Best go in, have a bite to eat before you head off again. Long walk. Not so hard for your kind, I suppose.” And when Eyvind only gaped at him, he added, “Dawn attack, that’s the plan. He’ll welcome you with open arms, lad. How can they fail, with the hero of Ramsbeck leading them forward?”
Somewhere within Eyvind’s mind the pieces of the puzzle locked together, and gave him an answer that turned him cold with horror. “You’re saying he plans to attack Engus tonight? That he has already gone to the Whaleback?”
The two guards nodded. “Just our luck,” observed one, “to score sentry duty. Still, someone has to keep an eye on the womenfolk. There might be a few more of them by tomorrow; some of those island girls aren’t half bad, though they’re on the scrawny side. I wouldn’t say no, given the chance.”
“You’ve time to get there, Wolfskin,” said the other. “Low tide’s just before dawn; that’s when he’ll move in.”
Now Eyvind’s heart was thumping like a deep warning drum. Miraculously his head cleared and his mind began to work fast, faster than it had ever done before. “Who is here?” he demanded. “Thord? My brother?”
The sentries shook their heads. “Still in Hafnarvagr, the two of them. Somerled never called them in.”
No help to be had there. Very well, he must cast wider. “What about Lady Margaret?”
“Gone away. Somerled sent her off to stay on one of the farms, with her woman and a couple of guards. Safer, he reckoned.”
There was no time to ponder the oddity of that. It seemed to Eyvind quite obvious that the safest place was the settlement itself; besides, did not Margaret have a role to play as a leader of this community? Never mind that. She wasn’t here; there was nobody else he might approach for help.
“I must go,” he muttered more to himself than to the guards. “I must be there before he advances on the Whaleback. It seems Somerled does not know these folk are in mourning. King Engus’s sister died today: a royal princess. Tonight the king’s people will be gathered for the solemn ritual of farewell. To attack at such a time is against all the rules of right engagement; truce in time of funeral rites is understood and respected even between the bitterest of enemies. Besides, didn’t Somerled say he would await King Engus’s reply before he attacked? Wasn’t that supposed to be the first day of spring?”
The older guard’s eyes narrowed. “Where have you been?” he asked sharply. “
Who have you been speaking to?”
“Maybe we should take you in to answer some questions,” said the other. “Somerled doesn’t like that kind of talk.”
Eyvind’s hand moved to where Biter was slung on his back; his fingers curled around the handle. “Have you forgotten everything you learned among Ulf’s fighting men?” he asked quietly. “Have you forgotten the very principles of combat? These folk will be weary, distressed, ill equipped to put up even a rudimentary defense. To mount an attack at such a time is an act of barbarism; it would be like mowing down a group of children.”
“New place, new rules,” grunted the older guard.
“You’re not in Rogaland now, Wolfskin,” growled the other. “Best be off with you before we decide to lock you up for the night. Go find food and shelter. Living wild so long has addled your wits, I think. Go on.” His eyes flicked nervously to the axe, and back to Eyvind’s face.
Food and shelter; somewhere in the back of his mind Eyvind knew he was hungry. He could not remember when he had eaten last. Somewhere inside him was a profound longing to lay his aching body down on a comfortable pallet and surrender to dreamless sleep until morning.
“I won’t stop,” he told them. “As you said, Somerled needs me. Best head off now.” Quickly, before they could change their minds about letting him go, before they could discover how little strength he really had, he strode away into the darkness. He managed to walk like a Wolfskin, straight, fast, confident, until the guards were well behind him and out of sight. After that, the pretense that he was himself again became too hard. Perhaps he should have stopped and rested first. But there was no time.
Eyvind staggered onward. After a while, the cool light of a half moon aided him, and he followed sheep tracks and stone dykes, trying to keep his course northwestward, back the way he had come. He tried to rehearse what he would say, but his mind was in a small circle of its own now, a pattern that said over and over, Let Nessa be safe. Let me be there in time.
He stumbled on, falling, picking himself up, falling again. Once, when he caught his foot on a rock and sprawled headlong, he simply lay there in the dark, face down on the hard earth, wondering how he could ever be strong enough to do what must be done. Nessa was strong, and she was only a slip of a thing, insubstantial as a lovely shadow. Brother Tadhg was strong, yet he was a small, weedy fellow plainly ill suited to tests and trials. That should mean something. Rona was strong, too; she was old and frail, yet she had made that decision to go away into danger and free him for this mission. She had sheltered him at great risk. He thought of them and felt the earth beneath him, holding him safe. There was something small and hard under his chest, pressing against him: Nessa’s gift, the mystery of being encompassed in the space of a cupped hand. Eyvind rose shakily to his feet. He looked across the moonlit folds of land and up into the great starry expanse of sky, and then he began to walk again.
The distance seemed endless. At some point there was a small stream-let fringed by grasses and ferns; he stopped to drink, and tried to judge how far he had come, and how much time had passed, but he was too weary to calculate either. The best he could do was keep moving forward, and hope.
It was still dark when he stumbled over the bodies of Engus’s sentries, each slain quickly and, he suspected, silently, so they could not alert others. The moonlight shone on their tunics of bold red and blue and green, on their dark eyes open in surprise and the blood staining the earth beneath them. The killing had a Wolfskin’s mark on it, efficient, professional. There would have been no running to raise the alarm, no signaling the isolated settlement on the Whaleback with smoke or flame, with flag or banner or shouts of warning. By now, perhaps, Engus’s folk were sleeping, worn out by prayers and tears, little dreaming what horror the dawn might bring. Eyvind had passed the western margin of the big loch, and now, not so far off, he could hear the great, deep roar of the sea. He forced his feet to move more quickly, knowing he must be close to the headland that jutted out toward the Whaleback, knowing somewhere near at hand Somerled and his forces must be waiting for first light. He was no longer tired, though every corner of his body seemed to have its own particular kind of pain. Something was keeping him awake, something was keeping him moving, the same thing that made his thoughts swarm and seethe in his head. Let him listen to me, he told himself. Just let him listen.
He heard them just before they moved in, one on each side and one looming up before him, quick as some wild predators. There was just time to say, “Friend—” before a hand was clapped over his mouth, and his arms were improbably twisted behind his back. Pain scythed through his shoulders; he could guess who had grabbed him. Once, he would have heard them earlier; once, he would have put up a good fight against any man foolish enough to try to attack him thus. Now he could barely stay on his feet. The moon had hidden behind a cloud; he hoped they would not kill him as they had those others, before they saw who he was.
“What’s this?” hissed Grim’s voice in his ear, and the vicelike hold was abruptly released. It was, perhaps, the sheer size of the captive that had revealed his identity. “Eyvind?” The tone was of incredulous joy.
“Great Thor!” Erlend removed his large hand from Eyvind’s mouth and gripped him by the shoulders instead, his touch now speaking welcome, not capture. “It is you!” He was holding his voice low; the darkness and the hush told of a covert camp, the preparation for dawn’s surprise attack. “By all the gods, they told us you were a walking corpse, a thing of light and shadow to be seen only in visions! This is wondrous!”
“Where have you been?” Holgar asked sharply. “Where have you come from?”
“I have to speak to Somerled. Now, straightaway. It’s urgent.”
“Shh, keep your voice down,” Grim whispered. “Come on then, he’s not far off. Now that’s a man will be even gladder to see you than we are. He thought the islanders had accounted for you that day at Ramsbeck, and dragged your body away to feed the carrion.”
“We’re sure of victory now,” Erlend said, grinning fiercely. “Thor’s hammer, I can hardly wait. My blood boils in anticipation, my heart beats as it did on the longship’s prow, with Danes in sight across the whale’s way. Four of us together in the vanguard; four of us screaming Thor’s name and wielding bright weapons together! I’ve a great thirst on me for blood, lads.”
“It’s been a long time coming,” grunted Grim. “That was an endless winter. Spring will be glorious; we’ll wipe out this scum and set our own names on the land as we should have long since. Our own names: our own king.”
“Somerled,” Eyvind said. “Take me to Somerled. Now.” He saw the three of them exchange glances; it seemed to him he could see more with each moment that passed, as if dawn were not so far off. Gods, had it taken him all night to walk here? An infant could have done it quicker. Why were they frowning? Had he said something wrong, had he shown some sign of weakness? He held his head high, his back as straight as he could; he willed his legs to carry him on.
Somerled had made his headquarters in one of the fishermen’s cottages near the point. There were no lamps lit, but the sky was perceptibly lighter now. Armed men waited in total silence all around the cottage, and Eyvind could see them deployed along the shore, keeping down behind crumbling stone wall or low scrubby bush, invisible to any sentry who might be patrolling the shores of the Whaleback. A forest of spears, a wall of swords, a deadly rain of arrows. Odin’s bones, nearly every Norseman able to draw arms must be here save Thord and Eirik, who had strangely not been called. This force would surely outnumber anything Engus could maintain in the small settlement on the Whaleback by three to one. Let her be safe.
He went in silently, unannounced. “Somerled?”
In the shadows within the hut Somerled’s white face jerked around toward him, Somerled’s dark eyes widened, and then, something Eyvind had never seen before, Somerled’s features were transformed by a dazzling, joyful smile.
“Eyvind! Thor be praised!” Somerled to
ok two steps forward and threw his arms around his friend in a strong, brief embrace. “They told me you were slain; then they said you were a ghost. I cannot believe this! It is surely a miracle that you are here now, at precisely the time when we most have need of you. Where have you been? You’re a mere shadow of yourself, old friend. What have they done to you? Come, sit here awhile. We still have a little time left.”
“Somerled—” Eyvind’s voice shook. He took another breath. “Somerled, I have some information for you, it’s important. I will answer your questions later. I must give you some news. This invasion cannot go ahead; you must call your men back.”
There was a little silence.
“What?” asked Somerled quietly.
“There’s been a death on the Whaleback: the king’s sister. These people are in mourning, conducting her funeral rites this very night. You can’t attack now, Somerled. Everyone knows there must be truce at such times. You must withdraw and leave these folk in peace to bid their kinswoman her farewells.”
There was a longer silence.
“Where have you been, Eyvind?” There was an edge to Somerled’s tone now; his eyes had narrowed.
“I–I can’t remember. I can’t remember anything since Ramsbeck.”
“Then how did you come by this information?”
“I heard it as I journeyed here: a couple of fellows traveling by the wayside.”
“Really. You never were very good at subterfuge, were you? Much more the smiting axe and piercing sword type of man. Never mind. I am so pleased to see you alive and by my side, I’m prepared to forgive much, even an ill-considered attempt to protect those who are our sworn enemies. Your news is no news to me, Eyvind. I’m already aware of this death. Indeed, I have chosen my time quite deliberately, knowing it gives me great strategic advantage.”
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