‘Pull!’
The soldiers and slaves strained on the cable, yanking the boat round and dragging it into the slack water below the ledge.
‘Now we’ll try one of the galleys,’ said Wayland.
Eight of the Russians rowed the galley to the bank. All of them tried to get out, but the Vikings pushed four of them back in. ‘We can’t take all of you in the boats,’ Wulfstan shouted. They secured the galley as before and Wulfstan carried the bow line back to Wayland. ‘The galley’s ten times heavier than the boat,’ he said. ‘We won’t be able to hold it once the current catches it. Start pulling before it hits the pool, otherwise it will smash into the cliff.’
Wayland and Syth paddled back to the ledge. The light was draining fast and the faces of the child slaves shone in the dusk like white flowers. From the ledge the figures on the bank were vague shadows. Wayland signalled and Wulfstan released the galley. It gathered momentum, the rope sizzling through the men’s hands. ‘Let go!’ Wulfstan yelled.
The galley leaped forward and buried itself bow deep before rearing up and careering towards the cliff. The Russian crew clung to the thwarts, screaming in terror. It was only ten yards short of colliding when the gang straining on the ledge managed to bring its bow round. The galley listed, pinned by the current, then the towers slowly hauled it out of the cauldron. One of the Russians on the shore was yelling, clutching a hand burned to the bone by the rope.
Both parties had the feel of things by now and letting the second galley down should have been straightforward. Everything went well until Wulfstan shouted the order to give it slack. One of the Russians hung on a moment too long and the galley’s surge yanked him into the water. If he’d kept hold of the rope he might have survived. Instead he let go and thrashed for the shore. He was almost within touching distance but the current caught him and carried him down and past the ship. The Russians on board didn’t see him and even if they had there was nothing they could have done to save him. He whirled towards the cliff, beating at the water, and then he went into one of the whirlpools and disappeared as if something huge had dragged him down by the legs. Everyone stared at the water, expecting him to bob up again. He never did. The river had swallowed him entire.
There was no time to lament his loss. It was all but dark as Wayland and Syth made their next run. Vallon turned to Wulfstan. ‘Whoever goes last won’t have anyone to slow their descent.’
Wulfstan’s teeth glinted. ‘My Vikings will do it for another pound of silver.’
‘Done.’
There were six in Vallon’s boat, including three Russians. He took a two-handed grip on a thwart and they were off, the current hissing past the stern. The movement grew jerky and the line vibrated under the strain. Then the pit of his stomach emptied and they were rushing down the spillway. The Vikings had released too soon and the boat raced across the pool towards the climbing wave. A fluke of timing saved them. Just as Vallon thought that the swell would upend them, the bulge collapsed, pushing them back. He felt the bow line dragging them round. The boat heeled and shipped water. Then it rolled back on an even keel and they were in the lee of the ledge.
Wayland helped him out. ‘Are you all right?’
‘Fine,’ he said. He passed a hand across his face. ‘Fine.’
He remembered little of the Vikings’ descent except that they sang as they went down into the torrent and that Wulfstan, stepping coolly onto the ledge, said, ‘I’ll take those two pounds of silver now if it ain’t too much trouble.’
Between the rapids the river flowed as smoothly as watered silk. Stars stippled the sky and a pale aura showed over the eastern clifftops, where the moon would soon show itself.
Richard leaned into his stroke. ‘I’m glad you rejected Drogo’s cruel suggestion.’
‘I would have left the slaves if Wulfstan hadn’t come up with his plan. The Cumans wouldn’t have killed them. They would have taken them for slaves. Better the nomads as masters than perverts in Constantinople.’
Richard looked over his shoulder at the pallid figures. ‘Such a fragile cargo. It grieves me to think of what’s in store for them.’
They rowed on through the dark, the current speaking in hollow gurgles. The moon appeared, close to its zenith. Its coppery light outlined the rims of the gorge, shadowing outcrops and crevices deep enough to conceal an army of ambushers.
Hero watched the heights. ‘Do you think the Cumans are tracking us?’
‘No,’ said Wayland. ‘They can’t follow the crest because the edge is too broken. The only way they can keep track is to watch from headlands. They don’t know that we saw them so they won’t be too cautious. I’ve been keeping a lookout and I haven’t seen any riders.’
Vallon nodded. ‘If there were only four of them, at least two would have ridden south to raise a force. The pair left behind weren’t expecting us to run the rapids tonight, so when they saw us leave, they would have had to warn the others.’
Wulfstan rose on tiptoe and scanned ahead. ‘Approaching the next rapid.’
They lifted their oars and heard a faint seething. For a long time the noise didn’t increase and sometimes it fell away to almost nothing. Strange and foreboding. Then without warning the hissing swelled to a sullen roar.
They turned to face it.
‘There it is,’ said Wulfstan.
Vallon made out a ragged streak in the dark. The river sucked and slurped. Ridges of water sped past the boat. The uproar deepened to a heavy rumble that boomed off the canyon walls.
‘The Echoer,’ said Hero.
‘Back water,’ Wulfstan ordered. ‘Wait until both galleys are through.’
The first galley entered the rapid, showing its stern like a diving duck before yawing down the rip of foam. It came through safely. The second followed, also without mishap.
Wulfstan sniffed and spat. ‘Piece of piss.’
Richard uttered an hysterical laugh.
They slid into the mouth and a snarling flood seized them. They jostled through tumbling crests, pitching in three planes at once. A wave slapped Vallon in the face.
‘Rock ahead!’ Wulfstan yelled.
‘Which way do we steer?’
‘Left! No! Right!’
Their efforts were puny compared to the power of the flood. Vallon saw waves gnashing at the boulder. They were going to hit it. He braced for the impact. The shock knocked him off the thwart, but the boat had struck only a glancing blow. Then the tail of the rapid was below them and they glided out into calm water.
The river slowed almost to a standstill. The moon hung halfway across the gorge. They rowed through a chain of islands towards the sound of thunder and when they passed the last one they saw spray misting the air in mid-channel.
‘This is the big one,’ Hero said. ‘The Insatiable. It runs for half a mile.’
‘We’ll lose the line if we wait for the galleys to get through,’ Wulfstan shouted. ‘Give the second one a good lead before following.’
The rapid was so long and steep that the first galley had dropped from sight when they slid towards the funnel. Vallon saw Syth slip a hand into Wayland’s. Hero took one hand off his oar and laid it on Richard’s. Vallon had seen similar gestures performed many times before battle and he delivered his war-cry.
‘Be strong of heart! Whatever happens, we’ll still be together. If not here, in the hereafter.’
‘Here or in the hereafter!’ the company shouted, and paddled into the cataract.
The boat dipped with a heavy slop. Snarling white teeth leaped at them. They jounced over steps with a force that drove grunts from their bodies. Shock after shock hit them. Incredibly, Wulfstan kept his position standing in the bow, bellowing instructions they could hardly hear. Spray dashed over them. They dropped into a trough between ledges and an eddy seized them, holding them almost stationary and swinging them round. The boat they were towing overtook them and began to pull them clear stern first.
Wayland punched Vallon. ‘The ot
her boat’s going to hit us!’
Vallon saw it pitching towards them. No room for it to pass. Wulfstan reacted in a flash, drawing a knife and slashing the towrope. The spare boat bounded away over the crests, carrying with it the skiff and one of the horses. Their own terrified horse flailed at the planks with its hooves. They were going backwards. They scrambled round to face the right way and as they did so the spare boat veered off from the main channel and cannoned down between rocks. It struck a boulder with the sharp crack of something terminally broken. A bursting wave hid it from sight and when the spray cleared it was gone. They could see the apex of the rapid now and the galleys in the pool beyond. The hull was half-awash, the second boat only yards behind them. More shocks and confusion, a squealing as they grazed a rock, and then with one last smack they popped out of the rapid like a cork shot from a bottle.
XLIII
They found the wreckage of the spare boat not far downriver. The horse was still tied in its stall, dead by drowning and massive concussions. Further on they recovered the skiff. Somehow it had broken free and its buoyancy had preserved it intact, allowing it to skim the waves like a leaf. They tied it to the stern and went on. The moon sank towards the western rim. After the turmoil of the rapids, the silent drift downriver worked on Vallon’s mind. He couldn’t shake off the sensation that they were being watched. ‘What time is it?’
‘Around midnight,’ said Wayland.
‘That early?’
The moon dropped below the cliffs, leaving only a scatter of stars to show the way. The boats bunched behind the galleys to keep them in sight. More islands ghosted past and the moon glided back, shining up the canyon like a cat’s eye.
‘We’ve turned west,’ said Hero. ‘This is the long calm reach.’
‘How many more rapids?’
‘Four.’
‘Richard, do we have any mead left?’
‘Half a barrel.’
‘Break it out. A pint a man.’
The crews ran the next three rapids slightly drunk. The moon disappeared again and they took the third rapid almost blind. Only the Serpent lay ahead. They threaded a channel between islands in pitch dark. From ahead came a crash and frightened cries.
‘What have you hit?’ Hero shouted.
‘A ledge,’ Kolzac answered.
The company crept alongside the stricken galley. ‘Are you holed?’
‘By God’s mercy, no. We’re stuck, though. You’ll have to pull us off.’
The slaves transferred to the other galley and the rowers hauled the stranded ship off stern first. The pilots proceeded down the channel with infinite caution, using poles to check for sunken rocks. The reverberations of the Serpent reached them and when they cleared the end of the island they could see its puckered lip in the darkness ahead.
Kolzak turned and shouted.
‘He’s not going to risk it at night,’ said Hero.
‘We have to do it in the dark,’ Vallon insisted. ‘If it’s light enough to run the rapid, it’s light enough for the Cumans to see us.’
‘Dawn’s some way off,’ Hero said. ‘Time enough to send a boat to look for a way through.’
‘We don’t even know there is an ambush,’ Richard added.
Vallon calmed down and took stock. ‘Ask the pilots how far to the ford.’
‘Six versts,’ Hero reported. ‘A couple of miles.’
Vallon looked up at the walls. ‘Tell the pilots to land at a spot hidden from any watchers above. Choose a place that offers a way up to the plateau.’
The pilots rowed for the right bank, landing in a deep bight overhung by cliffs on both sides. Between them a gully climbed to the plateau.
Everyone except the slaves disembarked.
‘Take one of the pilots and some men and investigate the rapid,’ Vallon told Wulfstan. ‘Hug the shore in case of lookouts.’ He turned to Wayland. ‘You know what I’m going to ask of you.’
‘You want me to scout towards the ford.’
‘It’s less than a day since the Cumans spotted us. They might not have had time to round up enough warriors for an ambush. No point risking the rapid unnecessarily.’
Wayland was gone before Syth could object.
Wulfstan and Igor returned to report that the Serpent descended in a slithering ribbon of foam that twisted over six ledges, with only one safe line. Not impossible, but no one in his right mind would risk it at night unless a greater danger threatened.
Vallon was asleep with his arm around Syth when Wayland came stumbling out from the gully. He caught his breath. Syth threw herself at him. He held her to his chest and spoke over her head. ‘They’re gathered in force. A hundred at least and more riding in. They hold both sides of the river.’
‘Christ! Does that mean they have boats?’
‘Not proper boats. They’re floating across on hide bladders.’
‘What are our chances of getting through?’
‘Not good.’
‘Even if we catch them unawares?’
Wayland shook his head. ‘We won’t. They’ve posted three lookouts on the cliffs this side of the Wolf’s Throat. Less than a mile from here. From where they’re sitting they can see the Serpent. It’s lucky we didn’t try running it.’
‘Any archers at the Wolf’s Throat?’
‘Not yet. It’s too dark for accurate shooting.’
Vallon looked up at the stars. ‘How long until dawn?’
‘If we want to get past the ford in the dark, we’ll have to leave soon.’
Vallon eyed the gully. ‘Can we get horses up there?’
‘Yes, with a struggle.’
Vallon brought his hands together and composed them against his lips. The rest of the company waited.
‘Killing the lookouts would improve our chances,’ Drogo said.
Vallon shook his head. ‘By the time we’ve dragged the horses up and dealt with the lookouts and made our way back, it will be daylight.’ He looked at Wayland. ‘Describe the ambush site.’
‘Where the gorge ends, the plateau slopes down to the river. The ford’s at the bottom of the slope, on a bend. We won’t see it from the river until we’re nearly level with it.’
‘Are the Cumans concentrated at the ford?’
‘Yes.’
‘No outlying forces?’
‘Only the lookouts.’
‘Is there anywhere below the ford where a boat could land?’
Wayland hesitated. ‘The bank’s so low that a boat could put in almost anywhere.’
Vallon walked to the edge of the river. When he turned, a dozen anxious faces confronted him. ‘We don’t have much time, so either you accept my plan or we get into the boats and start rowing.’ He paused, his tactics still taking shape. ‘Here it is. I’ll take five riders. Drogo, Fulk, Tostig, Olaf and Wulfstan. We lead the horses up the gully. When we reach the top, the convoy starts out. We kill the lookouts and shadow the ships until they’re almost at the ford. As they come through we attack the Cumans from the rear.’
Drogo laughed.
Vallon ignored him. ‘In the dark they won’t know what’s hit them. We sow panic and confusion for as long as it takes the convoy to row past. Then we ride downriver and Wayland takes us off. We’ll lose the horses, but that can’t be helped.’
Drogo took a step towards him. ‘You’re not serious. Six against a hundred?’
‘There’ll be more than a hundred by the time we attack.’
Wayland had been translating for the Vikings and Icelanders. Wulfstan hitched up his belt and spat. ‘I’d rather die wielding a sword than sit in a boat while a hundred archers use me for target practice.’ He squinted at Vallon. ‘Mind, it’ll cost another pound of silver and a few cups of mead. Payable up front.’
Vallon laughed. ‘It’s a deal.’
Caitlin pushed Tostig and Olaf forward. ‘They’ll ride with you.’ She planted herself in front of Drogo and harangued him in Norse.
He looked at Vallon. ‘What’s she sa
ying?’
Vallon shrugged. ‘You swore to protect her. She wants to know how you’ll do that with a paddle in the middle of a river.’
Drogo’s jaw worked. ‘Me and Fulk want the pick of the horses. Most of them are fit only for the knacker’s yard.’
Every able-bodied person helped push and drag the horses up to the crest. Vallon was sweating when they reached it. He sent everybody back down except Wayland. It was a relief to be out of the gorge, away from the rank river smell that reminded him of his dungeon. He breathed in the odour of dewy earth. A fleet of white clouds sailed down the sea of night. Everything below the horizon was black except for a fire burning out on the steppe. Impossible to tell if it was a mile off or half a day’s ride away.
Wayland pointed to a headland leaning over the river like a wave poised to break. ‘That’s where the lookouts are, to the left of the highest point.’
Vallon marked the spot. ‘Shoot an arrow when the boats leave. We won’t be able to keep them in sight, so blow the horn just before you reach the ford. That will be the signal for us to attack, so time it well. If you don’t find us waiting on the riverbank, keep going.’
Wayland grimaced. ‘You don’t mean-’
‘Yes, I do. If we’re not there, we’re dead. Hero will decide whether to continue with the expedition. Follow his command as faithfully as you’ve followed mine.’
Wayland swallowed. ‘Yes, sir.’
‘Now make haste.’
Wayland disappeared down the gully. The raiders waited, watching the stars dip towards the horizon. The world slept in the unbroken sleep that comes before dawn.
Something fizzled past them. Vallon glimpsed or imagined he glimpsed an arrow towing a white ribbon. He peered into the gorge. The Serpent showed as a pale smear in the black gulf. The first galley nosed out of the inlet.
‘They’re on their way. Mount up.’
Vallon nudged his horse forward and led them away from the river. It was like treading a black curtain. What light there was deluded rather than defined. ‘What’s that?’ whispered Drogo, pointing at an expectant shape on a hummock. It looked like a horseman waiting to meet them, but when they crept close, they found they were aiming their weapons at a bush.
Hawk Quest Page 61
