by V. Campbell
Chapter 8
They came upon Ragnar’s camp in a secluded bay as the first streaks of dawn stained the sky. High, jagged rocks protected the bay on three sides, affording only a narrow opening to the sea. The black ship was anchored in the shallows. Without Olvir, Redknee would never have found such a perfect hiding spot.
“I’m afraid,” Olvir whispered as they snuck ashore under cover of a rocky outcrop.
“I was afraid once too …” Redknee said, sliding his eating knife from his belt, “… still am. But just think of it like looking for one of your lost lambs. You might come across a wolf, but it’s still got to be done.”
“But there’s so many of them.”
“It’s easier if you don’t think … hang on, what do you mean?”
Olvir stabbed a dirty finger in the direction of the camp.
Redknee paused to take a proper look. He’d been so busy staying quiet as he docked the rowing boat and crept ashore that he hadn’t surveyed the camp. About twenty men lay in fur sleeping bags round a fire.
“How did they get back so quickly?”
Olvir shrugged. “Maybe they were never at Whale Bay.”
“That wasn’t Ragnar who attacked us?”
“Ivar has a running feud with the jarl of a nearby island. They’re always fighting over the whale harvest. They used to split the haul. But the other jarl said he should get more because it was harder to raise sheep on his piddling rock. Said his family would starve.”
“What’s Ragnar been up to while we’ve been playing at fishermen?” Redknee asked worriedly.
Olvir shrugged. “What about your plan?”
“Its not going to work now, is it?”
“How should I know? You never told me what it was.”
Damn right, Redknee thought. Competent navigator, maybe, but Olvir was no strategist. “By Thor’s hammer, you’re even more annoying than the girl.”
“What? I found this place for you. It’s not my fault I can’t stand blood.”
Redknee bit his tongue before he said anything he’d regret. One wrong move and they’d have the whole of Ragnar’s mini army on them. He eyed Olvir as he cowered behind a lump of granite. Maybe the boy just needed a chance … someone to give him confidence … someone to believe in him.
“You know …,” Redknee said gently. “It’s not the sight of blood that makes you faint.”
“It is.”
Redknee shook his head. “That’s just what you’ve been told.”
“I’m thinking about blood now, and it’s making me queasy.” To emphasise this point, Olvir swayed a bit and reached out to support himself against the rock.
“Don’t be daft,” Redknee said. “If you tell yourself you’ll be fine, then you will be.”
Olvir looked thoughtful. “So … you’re saying if I try and forget about blood and guts and gore … and all that stuff …”
Redknee nodded.
“… then I won’t faint… and I’ll be a great warrior!”
Redknee hesitated. “I wouldn’t say it will happen at once—”
“Alright!” Olvir’s eyes shone with excitement. “I’m ready to take on Ragnar and his men single … sorry, double-handed.”
Redknee sighed. “We should bide our time … wait for the right moment.”
“But look, they’re leaving.”
Redknee looked over at the camp. Olvir was right. The men were standing, rolling up their sleeping bags and getting their weapons together. He watched as they began marching towards the hills, leaving the black ship guarded by a sleepy looking Mord and Toki who’d already resumed their places by the fire. Now was indeed the time to strike. He’d show his uncle he was good for more than guarding a stupid book.
“Where are they going?” Olvir asked.
Redknee shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“What about your plan then?”
“Oh. It’s quite simple. All we need are some sheep. Think you can find me a few of those?”
Olvir nodded. “If there’s one thing I know about, it’s sheep.”
“What’s that infernal bleating? Toki rubbed his eyes and sat up.
“It’s just some herd passing,” Mord said. “Go back to sleep.”
“I fancy some mutton,” Toki said, staggering to his feet. “You coming?”
“Can’t you kill a lamb on your own?”
“If I do, I won’t share it.”
“One of these days I’m going to have you beaten for insolence,” Mord said, sighing. He put down the piece of bone he’d been carving and picked up his sword. “Not sure I should leave the girl,” he said, glancing to where Sinead slept near the fire, her hands tied behind her back.
“Bah, she’ll be fine … get it?”
“What?” Mord frowned.
“Never mind,” Toki said, leading the way towards the dunes and the bleating. “Anyone would think you’re sweet on that girl.”
“Don’t be stupid … I need her, that’s all.”
“That’s what they all say.”
Redknee watched as first Toki, then Mord, disappeared behind a grass-fringed dune and out of hearing. It was time to make his move. He looked to where Sinead lay on the sand; someone had given her a rolled up tunic to prop her head, and her chest rose and fell in the slow rhythm of sleep. Waking her would risk alerting Mord and Toki. Besides, she seemed to be doing just fine on her own.
He scuttled across the sand on all fours like a crab. The black ship sat high in the water, buoyed by the gentle swoosh-swoosh of surf. Jet eyes stared down at him from the snake figurehead, all-seeing, like Odin’s ravens. He shuddered. Still, as precious stones, they might be worth good coin. He would remove them with his knife later.
Moving quickly, he dislodged the anchor, gave the ugly iron-clad bow a mighty push and scrambled on board. Olvir’s diversion wouldn’t give him long. With some effort, he raised the big square sail, but the morning was calm and it sagged wearily against the mast.
He eyed the oars. He could never row such a large ship out of the bay on his own. He glanced towards the dunes. What was keeping Olvir?
A scuffling sound came from the other side of the hull. Olvir’s call was the churr-churr-chirruc of the reed warbler. He heard the clank of metal against wood, the soft thud of leather boots scrabbling to find purchase against smooth, sea-polished planks, but no birdcall. He drew his knife. It would give scant protection against a sword, but he had nothing else. A hand reached over the rail and groped about for something solid to hold. He rushed forward and stamped on it.
“Argh! Why did you go and do that?” Sinead’s pain-twisted face popped above the gunwale.
Redknee stood speechless.
“Well?” she said, pursing her lips into a thin line, “don’t just stand there like an overgrown turnip. Help me up.”
“Why should I? You betrayed me. You went with Mord of your own free will. You only want to come back because I’ve got the book.”
“I’ll scream.”
“No, you won’t.” He shot forward, pulled her onto the deck and pressed his hand over her mouth. She twisted like a feral cat, but he held her tight. “I’ll let you go if you promise to behave.”
She shook her head.
“Fine,” he said. “Then I’ll push you over the side. It’s quite a drop.”
Her eyes widened, she tried to stamp on his toes and bite his fingers, but he clamped her jaw shut and hardened his grip. She kept on wriggling, but when her face went pink, he released his hand for a moment allowing her to gasp for air.
“You need me as much as I need you,’she said between breaths.
“How?”
“To read your damn treasure book.”
“Don’t actually. We’ve got a monk.”
Something flickered in her eyes. Redknee wasn’t sure what. Jealousy? He tightened his hand over her mouth and whispered into her ear. “Now,” he said. “Do you vow to stay quiet?”
She nodded slowly and he released his grip.
“I don’t know why you want to come with me anyway. Uncle Sven will have you whipped for giving Mord the book.”
“And wouldn’t you like that?” she asked, anger flashing in her eyes. “But you’re wrong, because I know something about the Codex Sven doesn’t.”
“Well, I hope for your sake you’re right. Otherwise you can wipe that stupid grin off your face.”
“It has to do with King Hakon – he’s dying.”
“What do I care about King Hakon’s health?”
“You should, it’s why he wants the book.”
“So? I’m fed up with talk about this book. I’m with Olaf. I think we should go home.”
Sinead smirked. “Just shows how little you know. I also heard Ragnar mention your father.”
“What did he say – tell me!”
“Got you interested now,” she said, a smile tugging on her lips. “Take me to Sven and I’ll tell you what I know about Erik Kodranson and the Codex Hibernia.” Then she turned from him, sashayed across the deck, picked up an oar, slid it through one of the ports in the side of the hull and sat down, ready to row.
Redknee sighed. “We need to wait for Olvir.”
“The scraggy blond boy with the sheep?”
“How—”
“You’ll be waiting some time.”
“Did they get him?” he asked, panic in his voice.
“He’s run away.”
“Never . . .”
“The boy’s a coward … now, are we going?”
“I already said—”
“If we don’t go, Mord and Toki will be back. Wasn’t this your plan?”
“Yes… but I thought I could sail it.”
“In these conditions?” She tilted her face towards the rising sun, the rose-hued dawn illuminating her pale cheeks.
He shook his head. She was really annoying him. He wished she’d stayed put. If he’d wanted her help, he would’ve wakened her. Why’d she have to be so damn … contrary? And now this story about his father; he could swear she was toying with him.
He sighed. “You sure Olvir’s gone?”
She nodded vigorously.
Shoulders sagging with defeat, he picked up an oar and slid it through the oarport opposite Sinead.
“Pull when I say. It’s important we go together.”
“Aye, captain!” She winked at him then stared forward, a look of mock seriousness on her face.
He gave the order and they pulled together, dipping their oars into the water just enough to move them away from the beach.
“The wind will pick up once we leave the bay,” he said, glancing over to the spot between the dunes where he’d last seen Mord and Toki. They would be back soon. It wouldn’t take them long to realise the sheep were a diversion. He willed the black ship to move faster – but it crept on slowly under their scant power, carried as much by the ebbing tide as their effort – while his heart raced like a startled deer. Nothing but a great burst of wind would give them the speed they needed. Eventually they drew level with the high rocks marking the exit to the bay.
“We’re nearly there,” Sinead said.
“Just keep rowing!”
Before she could answer, a figure dropped from the rocks above onto the deck with a heavy thud. Redknee leapt to his feet as Toki staggered upright. Blood seeped from a gash in the giant’s right arm and he was wheezing, breathless. Redknee eyed him warily. He seemed to have lost his sword.
Redknee grabbed his oar and held it across his chest. “Run,” he said to Sinead. She nodded, hurrying towards the stern.
“Naughty pup,” Toki said, wagging his finger. “Didn’t your mother tell you stealing is wrong?”
“Ragnar killed my mother,” Redknee said, charging.
As Toki ran forward to meet him, a second figure dropped onto the deck. The movement distracted Toki, and as he turned his head, Redknee smacked the flat of the oar into his skull. Redknee wheeled round, ready to fight the second man. It was only when the newcomer started tearing into Toki that he realised it was Olvir.
“You came back!”
“Yes … but I could do with help here …”
Toki had fallen to his knees but he was still fighting, lashing out with his fists every time Olvir got close. Redknee shot between them, bringing his oar sharp across the giant’s face. This time Toki collapsed flat onto the deck, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth, the fight smashed out of him.
Redknee turned to Sinead. “Quick, bring some rope.”
They bound Toki’s hands and feet then tied him to the mast. His head slumped onto his chest, saliva dripping down his chin.
“Is he breathing?” she asked, pressing her hand against his forehead.
“Why’d you care?” Redknee asked.
“It’s just … he looked after me.”
In answer, Toki groaned and coughed up yellow bile.
“You’re capable of looking after yourself,” Redknee said, going back to get his oar. He turned the length of ash in his hand and slid it through the oarport. “You said Olvir ran away.”
Sinead flushed scarlet. “I thought he had.”
“No way!” Olvir grinned. “Led this oaf and his friend on a merry dance, didn’t I? Said I knew my way round this island like the back of my hand. Well, I got them to follow the sheep, just like you wanted. Fools were so intent on filling their bellies they didn’t notice the ravine. This one here was lucky – he managed to land on a small ledge. But the one with the shiny mail coat went flying right over the side. Probably gull food now.”
“Mord is dead?” Sinead asked.
“Don’t know,” Olvir said. “But he won’t be bothering us for a while, that’s for certain.”
“I knew you could do it,” Redknee said, slapping Olvir on the back. Silently, he wondered what he’d unleashed in the boy.
Their captive remained unconscious while they sailed back to Ivar’s farm.
“What shall we do with him?” Sinead asked as they neared the entrance to the bay, Ivar’s farm almost in sight.
Redknee shrugged.
“Sven won’t kill him … will he?” She looked at the big lump slouched against the mast and bit her lip. “I mean …” she said, smoothing her face into a mask of indifference, “it’ll just cause reprisals.”
“By Thor’s hammer, why should you give a goat what happens to that outsized ogre?” Redknee asked, trimming the sail to catch the shifting wind. “You’d do better to concern yourself with your own position.”
“It’s just …” her voice trailed off as a movement on the cliffs grabbed her attention. “Look,” she said, pointing, “someone’s waving at us.”
Redknee squinted into the distance. Harold was running towards them, leaping around like a frog on hot coals, arms flailing wildly in the air.
“What’s he doing?” Olvir shouted from his position as lookout up on the prow.
“Damned if I know,” Redknee said warily. “But I’m in no mood for his stupid tricks.” He decided to ignore Harold’s flailing, focusing instead on steering a true course. Hopefully Harold would get the message.
“He looks desperate,” Sinead said. “Like he wants to warn us.” She stood on the rail and waved to him.
“—What are you doing?” Redknee said, grabbing her flapping skirts and hauling her onto the deck. “Are you crazy?” he demanded. “You could’ve fallen … do you want to get yourself killed?”
She laughed in his face, a hollow, hysterical hack. “You didn’t seem to care when you threatened to drop me over the side.”
Heat flooded his cheeks. “We were inshore—”
She shoved past him, lurched for the tiller, jamming it hard and sending the ship careering towards the rocks.
“You’ll ground us!” he said, pushing her out the way as the ironclad keel scraped noisily over a granite outcrop. Then he swung them out to sea so violently the ship tilted onto its side, sending loose barrels flying about the deck before he was able to stea
dy their course.
“How dare you manhandle me like that!” Sinead said. “You don’t know it’s a trick. So you want to show your uncle how grown up you are – you’ve done well, stealing this ship. But unless you listen to others, you’ll put us all in danger.”
Anger boiled in his veins. He wasn’t going to let Harold spoil his success. Wouldn’t give the little turd the chance, no matter what Sinead said, or how much she riled him. For once the glory was all his, and he was going to take it … giving Olvir his due, of course.
“Hey, you two,” Olvir said. “Stop bickering. You’re like an old married couple.” He motioned to Harold. “This lunatic, is he a friend of yours? Because he really wants us to go over. What’s the worst that can happen? There’s three of us and only one of him.”
Redknee sighed. He didn’t like to admit it, but Olvir’s logic made some sense. Feeling outnumbered, he took hold of the tiller and reluctantly steered them as close to the rocks as he dared.
Harold shimmied down the cliffs until he was almost at sea level, cupped his hands over his mouth and yelled into the wind.
“Sail to the next bay. Don’t go to the farm.”
“Why?” Sinead called back.
“Ragnar is there!”
Sinead turned to Redknee, a look of “I told you so” on her face.
“He’s lying.” Redknee tried to sound unconcerned.
Olvir strained to see past the headland and into the bay.
“What’s happened?” he asked, “while I’ve been playing at raiders with you?”
“Nothing’s happened,” Redknee said, ignoring Harold’s warning and setting them on course for the farm. “I’ll bet he wants us to take the black ship to a quiet bay so he can wrestle her from us and claim this success as his.”
They slid round the headland and for the first time the full sweep of the bay came into sight. Olvir gave a cry of horror. In the distance, flames ripped into the sky where Ivar’s farm had stood.
