by Martin Lake
It had rained a few days earlier and the river flowed more swiftly than before. They followed it for a mile north and south, searching for any sign of them. As well as the river, there were countless ponds where a person might drown.
In the end Leif slumped to the ground in despair. It was hopeless.
Sigurd stared at his brother for a long while, then stepped towards him. He placed a hand upon his shoulder. ‘If they’re anywhere nearby they’d have heard our cries,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry.’
Leif looked up at him, unable to give an answer. He could not say what he knew in his heart. They were gone.
Leif followed his friends back to the camp without being aware of his steps. His mind pulsed with the single thought, where, where, where? No answer came.
Deor came towards them the moment they arrived. His face was woeful.
‘No sign here,’ he said. ‘Ivar has sent some horsemen to the east and rounded up some villagers nearby to see if they know anything.’
‘And do they?’
He shook his head.
Leif waited the rest of the day in a silent, sick, despair. Things had been getting better, he thought, and now this. He found myself cursing Loki and then glancing around nervously in case he was hearkening. Would the god ever relent, ever allow him more than a glimpse of joy?
Most of the men that Ivar sent out returned by nightfall, none of them with any news. Two score, it seemed, had been sent further, led by Asgrim. Ivar would not say where.
The next day Leif resumed the search, even though he knew it was hopeless. Higbald went with him despite Leif telling him not to. They went on horse and ranged down the river for a dozen miles until they found its source. But they found no trace of Aebbe and bitterly, they turned back towards Thetford.
‘Why is that man smirking at us?’ Higbald asked as they approached the camp.
‘What man?’
Higbald nodded towards a young man squatting in front of a tent. It was one of Eohric’s friends.
‘He’s a bastard,’ Leif said. ‘And he’s enjoying my grief.’
He pushed on though Higbald tarried, staring at the man a few moments longer. He looked troubled when he caught up although Leif could not summon the strength to ask why.
‘Eohric’s behind this,’ Nerienda said the following day.
‘That can’t be,’ Sigurd said. ‘He daren’t risk angering Ivar. And besides, he’s made his peace with Leif.’
Nerienda snorted. ‘Don’t be such a fool. Eohric makes too great as show of friendship for my liking. You can daunt a mad dog but you can’t tame it.’
‘What makes you think he’s got anything to do with it?’ Leif asked. His voice sounded weary even to his own ears.
‘Bed talk,’ Nerienda said. ‘My shrewdest girl, Burghild, said that one of Eohric’s creatures boasted that he’d sold Aebbe. He clammed up when she asked him more.’
‘Sold her?’ His heart began to race. ‘Who to?’
‘He wouldn’t say.’ She sat down beside Leif and took his hand. Tears began to course down his cheeks.
Asgrim returned two days later. His face was bleak. Leif followed him as he went towards Ivar’s hall but he brushed aside his every question.
Ivar and his jarls were in the middle of a meal when they entered.
Ivar placed his meat down. ‘Any news?’
Asgrim glanced at Leif before answering. ‘Yes. As you ordered, we went to King Edmund to see if he’d heard any news. He had that, right enough. He said that Aebbe had been sold to him by a Dane. And that she was now his concubine.’
Leif felt the ground tip beneath him and only just kept his feet.
‘Did you see her?’ Ivar asked. ‘Did you see Leif’s woman?’
Asgrim shook his head. ‘But I saw the child. He was playing with some other boys.’ He turned to Leif. ‘He was unharmed, Leif. I promise you that.’
‘Then what?’ demanded Ivar.
‘I offered to buy her back,’ Asgrim said. ‘At double the price Edmund paid.’
‘And…’
Asgrim licked his lips anxiously and took a deep breath. ‘He said she was too good in bed to part with. At any price.’
He glanced at Leif and then returned his gaze to Ivar.
‘Do you think he means it?’ Halfdan asked. ‘At any price?’
‘He has no need of more wealth,’ Asgrim said. ‘Spiting us gives him greater satisfaction.’
Ivar’s eyes narrowed and he turned to Leif. ‘How much will you give to get your woman and child back?’
‘Ten times what Edmund paid,’ Leif said.
‘And I will match it.’ He turned to Asgrim. ‘Return to the bastard and bring Leif’s family back.’
‘I’ll go with you,’ Leif said.
Ivar stared at him for a while and then nodded. ‘Just don’t make things worse,’ he said. ‘Swallow your wrath and pay him the money. And Sigurd, you go as well and help Asgrim keep an eye on him.’
KING EDMUND’S TAUNTS
It was a long day’s ride to get to Edmund. He was at his hall in the port of Gipswic, a busy, wealthy town with scores of large potteries and a quayside crammed with ships. Leif and his friends arrived there in the late afternoon.
‘Let me do the talking,’ Asgrim cautioned as they approached the hall. Sigurd agreed immediately, Leif a moment later. He doubted he’d be able to keep silent although he realised it would be best if he did.
Edmund and his chief men were at their evening meal as the Vikings approached.
Oswald inclined his head in welcome, the young adviser, Hwita, gave them a mocking glance. Edmund did not look up from his meat.
‘You have returned, heathen,’ Hwita said to Asgrim. ‘What is the reason this time?’
‘I come on the same mission,’ Asgrim answered. ‘I seek to buy back the woman and child that were sold to your king.’
‘I gave you my answer,’ Edmund said. He belched and tore another slice from the mutton chop he was eating.
‘And why is this Skald here?’ Hwita said. ‘He was silver-tongued enough in the past. Why so silent now?’
Leif went to answer but Asgrim gripped him by the arm. ‘He is the husband of the woman and father of the child.’
‘She may once have been his woman,’ Edmund said. ‘She’s mine now.’
He put down his meat and picked up his wine-cup, swilling it in the air and staring at Leif above the rim. ‘I can see why you want her back,’ he said. ‘She’s a good fuck.’ He licked his lips appreciatively.
Leif stepped forward angrily but the grip on his arm tightened.
‘Oh look,’ Hwita said, ‘the Dane is indignant. Be careful, my King, he may seek to chastise you.’ His voice was full of a sneering contempt.
‘I seek only what is mine, Edmund,’ Leif said, heedless of Asgrim’s warning glance. ‘And I will pay you twenty times what you paid for them.’
Oswald’s eyes widened in surprise. ‘Twenty times? You must value them highly, young man?’
‘She is my wife and the boy is my son. Would you not value your loved ones as much as I do?’
‘We might,’ Hwita interjected. ‘But we are Christians. You heathens are little better than the beasts in the field.’
‘We do not buy another man’s wife,’ Leif said.
Hwita gave a hollow laugh. ‘You jest. You bastards steal any woman you think of value. Wasn’t your so-called wife taken as a slave? She was an innocent girl before you took and corrupted her.’ He gave a mocking smile. ‘And don’t let’s forget that it was one of your friends who sold her to us.’
‘Who was it?’ Sigurd cried, forgetting his promise to remain silent.
‘Guthrum,’ Hwita said. ‘One of Ivar’s captains.’
Leif stared at him in horror. Guthrum? Who had acted like a friend and wished him to be his Skald. Guthrum? Leif groaned. He was every bit as vile as his brother.
‘It matters not who sold the woman and child,’ Asgrim said quickly.
&nb
sp; His voice restored Leif to the moment. I’ll plan what to do about Guthrum later, he thought. Right now, I need to concentrate on getting them back.
‘I agree with your friend,’ Edmund said, ‘it matters not who sold her. All that does is that she was sold and now belongs to me.’
He picked up his meat and gestured towards the door. ‘I have no need of more of your treasure, heathens. Be gone from my hall while I am still in good humour.’
He went to take another bite of his meat and then paused. ‘I tell you what,’ he said to Leif. ‘I shall give you back your son, as token of my good will. I have no need of him.’
‘I want my wife as well.’
Edmund shook his head and returned to his meat.
‘Be satisfied with your son,’ Oswald said. He looked thoughtful. ‘Be sensible and leave now.’
Asgrim glanced at Leif and then back to Oswald. ‘So be it,’ he said. ‘Produce the boy.’
They waited until one of Edmund’s women entered, leading Nefi by the hand. He screamed in delight when he saw his father and leapt into his arms. Leif hugged him for a moment, passed him to Sigurd and took three swift steps towards Edmund.
‘I want my wife back,’ he cried.
Edmund raised his finger and the next thing Leif knew he was thrown to the floor. A burly warrior kicked him in the guts and another one joined in, striking his chest, arms and face. He rolled into a ball to try to protect himself but they were determined and accomplished. The pain was terrible.
Out of the corner of his eye Leif glimpsed the old adviser, Oswald, remonstrating with the king but to no avail.
‘Enough,’ Edmund said, eventually. ‘He’s lost one eye and one wife. Leave him his miserable life.’
His words were the last thing Leif knew as he lost consciousness.
He came too with his face crushed against the neck of his horse. He glanced around wildly. The position of the sun indicated that they were heading west, back to Thetford. There was no sign of Aebbe although Nefi was asleep in Sigurd’s arms, wrapped in a cloak. Leif groaned and fell into a troubled sleep.
They rode for a few hours until the last daylight faded. They made camp in a sparse little wood, shivering in a cold, northerly wind. Leif was too weak and distressed to do anything other than sit blankly with his back to a tree. Nefi kept asking for his mama and Sigurd told him she was ill and would return in a week or so.
‘You shouldn’t lie to him,’ Asgrim said when the boy had finally fallen asleep. ‘He will be disappointed and will ever doubt your word in the future.’
‘We will get Aebbe back,’ Sigurd said, sharply. ‘We won’t let her languish as an Englishman’s plaything.’
Asgrim did not reply beyond giving a non-committal grunt. Leif gave a wan smile of thanks to Sigurd.
‘But in the meanwhile,’ Sigurd continued, ‘we have to think what to do about Guthrum.’
‘I never imagined he would do that,’ Leif said bleakly. ‘I thought he was my friend.’
‘He and his brother were spawned from the same foul nest,’ Asgrim said. His throat retched, he hawked up a thick wad of phlegm and spat it on the ground. ‘But he’s a jarl and you’re not. There’s nothing you can do. You have no proof.’
‘The king’s adviser told us it was Guthrum who sold her.’
‘And you think his word will count against Guthrum’s?’ Asgrim asked, astonished.
Leif shook his head, wearily. ‘You’re right. I’ll never be able to prove it. But I swear I’ll have my revenge.’
They arrived at Thetford shortly after noon. Leif was exhausted and every bone and joint in his body throbbed as if on fire. Nerienda welcomed them with cries of joy, taking Nefi from them and hugging him tight.
She gave Leif a questioning look, but Sigurd shook his head in warning. ‘She’s alive,’ he whispered, ‘but the English King has taken her to his bed and will not let her go.’
‘Then there’s hope, perhaps,’ she said. ‘Men grow tired of women.’
‘But if he does he’ll just sell her to some slaver,’ Asgrim said. His hand went to his mouth, realising that Leif could hear.
Leif closed his eyes. His friends were right. There was now no chance of getting Aebbe back. He would never see her again.
‘I won’t have false hope,’ he said, finally. ‘Will you care for Nefi?’ he asked Nerienda.
‘Of course.’ She paused and when she spoke her voice was so low Leif could barely hear it. ‘Who did this?’
‘Guthrum,’ he answered. ‘Guthrum sold them.’
‘Then he’ll rot in hell,’ she said.
‘I hope so. I doubt I’ll get recompense on this earth.’
NEWS OF EDMUND
Leif’s friends counselled him to avoid Guthrum, indeed avoid everyone as much as possible.
‘Angry words fan flames of revenge’ Deor said. ‘And they will burn you.’
‘I’m no fool,’ Leif said, testily. ‘Guthrum’s word is stronger than mine.’ He rubbed his aching shoulder. ‘Or the word of any Englishman, even that of a king.’
He closed his eyes. He may have given up any thought of revenge on Guthrum but ever since he’d returned he’d conjured up ways of harming Edmund and his advisers. He knew these ideas were naive and fanciful but they gnawed at his soul nonetheless. He would never see Edmund again and, therefore, he would never see Aebbe. He had lost daughter and now wife. The days ahead looked bleak and drear.
Then, in the middle of November, came alarming news. Edmund was heading north with an army of three thousand men.
To Leif’s surprise he was summoned to a meeting of the war chiefs. Ivar took him to one side and told him that he must remember who said what in the forthcoming debate. He looked unusually concerned.
Ivar took his seat and Leif placed a stool next to Kolga so that he could easily hear all that was said.
‘We should make the fortifications stronger,’ Jarl Sidrac urged. ‘Only a fool would attack a position as strong as this. I hear no suggestion that Edmund is a fool.’
‘I agree with Sidrac,’ Jarl Frene said. ‘We defended Nottingham against the Mercians and Saxons. Defending Thetford against Edmund’s rabble will prove easy in comparison.’
‘Unless he starves us out,’ said Kolga. ‘There are over a thousand warriors here and even more camp-followers. We’ll grow famished unless we can leave the camp to plunder more supplies.’
‘I agree with Kolga,’ Halfdan said. ‘Edmund will seek to starve us into submission. I have no stomach for that.’
‘Then what would you do, brother?’ Ivar asked quietly.
‘Lay an ambush for him when he’s on the march.’
‘I agree,’ said Ubbe. ‘We can move faster than they can. We’ll strike them before they even realise we’ve left camp.’
‘Ambush them? Strike them?’ said Ivar. ‘Which would you have us do, brothers? For we surely cannot do both at the same time.’
‘And we don’t know where they are,’ Guthrum said. ‘Asgrim and Leif saw Edmund in Gipswic four weeks ago but all we know is that he’s left the town. He could be anywhere and he could be coming from any direction.’
He said Leif’s name casually, as if he felt no guilt at having wronged him. He was as full of guile as he was of malice.
‘Guthrum’s right,’ Ivar said. ‘We’d be wise to send out scouts to find where Edmund is.’
‘My men and I could do that,’ Guthrum said.
Leif frowned. Surely Guthrum meant to betray them to Edmund? He pummelled his mind to think how to counter his plan. No ideas came.
‘My brother is called Ubbe the Swift for good reason,’ Ivar said to Guthrum. ‘He will have found Edmund, returned here and bedded two women by the time your men have saddled horses.’
There was loud laughter which Guthrum joined in.
As if to prove Ivar’s words Ubbe leapt to his feet and headed for the door.
‘Come back as soon as you spot them,’ Ivar called. ‘Don’t attack and don’t let
them see you.’
‘The best place to start is on the track we took along the river Gipping,’ Leif said.
‘Go with him, Leif,’ Ivar said. ‘Show him the way. And seek out a good place for an ambush. In the meanwhile, Sidrac, strengthen the defences. We must protect the women and children while the warriors are away.’
Leif guessed why he had ordered Sidrac to do this. It was not merely to protect the women and children. It was to make sure the army had somewhere to fall back to if they lost the battle.
Sigurd and Asgrim wanted to go with Leif but he told them to stay to keep watch on Nefi. He feared that Guthrum might seek to harm him while he was gone.
‘Then take Thorvald with you,’ Sigurd said. ‘I’d sleep better if I knew a good friend was beside you.’
Leif did not reply but hurried out of the hall.
‘Hurry up, man,’ Ubbe cried. He was already in the saddle and his men, used to his impetuous ways, were climbing onto their steeds.
Sigurd tightened the girth on Leif’s horse and helped him mount. He groaned as he settled into the saddle. He was still stiff from his beating and the last thing he relished was a long, break-neck ride on horseback. But Ubbe was already leading the way out of the camp and he kicked his horse savagely to try and catch up with him. He glanced back and saw Thorvald feverishly struggling to ready his horse.
Ubbe slowed the pace a little to allow Leif to reach him. ‘I’ll need my men to spread out soon,’ he said, ‘so I’ll order them to split up. But you’re to stay with me.’
No sooner had he said this than Thorvald galloped up.
‘Can my man ride with me?’ Leif asked.
Ubbe nodded.
They had been riding an hour and were moving at an easy canter when Ubbe slowed to a trot.
‘There’s several tracks ahead, Leif,’ he said. ‘Which one should we take?’
Leif pointed out the route they had taken the week before and Ubbe ordered half a dozen of his men to ride in pairs along the other tracks. It appeared that as well as his famous speed, he had a good grasp of tactics. And he could read the landscape like a shipmaster read the sea.
