The following day, Jorund took Audun aside when he came in for breakfast, and said in a hushed voice, ‘We’re leaving for Norway tomorrow morning, which means the raid will be tonight. Are you with us?’
‘Of course!’ Audun replied, though the news had set in motion a sick feeling of butterflies in his stomach. ‘What time do we start?’
‘Tell the lads to assemble here at midnight.’
By the time the raiders gathered at the Forge, it was completely dark. They wore dark clothes, with their padded stickball jackets on top or underneath. Beneath their leather helmets, their faces were smeared with black mud. Each man carried a weapon. They all knew what they had to do. Helgi and Embla had the task of silencing the dogs. Jorund, Audun, Alf, Karl, Sam, and Kormak would go in and recover the stolen weapons.
There was an atmosphere of nervous excitement as they got ready to leave. Embla was stirring the bucket of raw meat with a stick. The meat had been marinading all day in her special preparation. The others saddled up the horses. There were two teams of ponies: six pack horses and six riding-horses for the raiders. Helgi was taking Kol. He had fixed a sling to Kol’s saddle, which would hold a shield and a strong wooden staff, and had belted on Skeggi’s sword and Footbiter and made sure Embla had a knife of her own. He wasn’t taking any chances.
‘I see you’ve brought your sword,’ Sam remarked casually to Audun.
Audun was beginning to wish he hadn’t. He wasn’t used to the feel of wearing the sword, which dangled from his belt in its new casing and banged against the side of his leg as he walked.
‘What’ve you brought?’ he asked Sam.
Sam swept aside his cloak to show him an axe stuffed in his belt. ‘Wish I had a sword though.’
‘With any luck, we won’t have to use them,’ replied Audun.
‘Do you think it’ll come to a fight?’ Sam asked Jorund, with studied carelessness.
‘This is a lightning raid,’ said Jorund. ‘The object is to get in and out of there quickly, without any fuss. We make no noise, keep low, and hurry.’
Jorund sounded as though he knew what he was doing, thought Audun. At least he wasn’t looking for a confrontation. Audun was glad that Jorund was in command and that all he had to do was follow him. He had no special responsibility, which was probably just as well on his first mission.
If all went well, they would get the stuff down to the ship without anyone trying to stop them. But it only took one mistake to rouse Eric’s household from their beds and bring them rushing out to beat off the incursion.
Audun felt a little sick as he imagined everything that could go wrong. He did not know how he would react if they ran into the Ericssons or their men. Would he stand and fight, or run? He had fled from Thorgrim’s axe once before. If he lost his nerve again, he would be branded a coward and his friends would despise him for letting them down. But what would Solveig think of him if he fought her cousin? It was a situation he desperately wanted to avoid. Hedin had opted out of the raid for precisely the same reason. That privilege did not extend to Audun, who was not Halfdan’s nephew and Solveig’s betrothed. But even if it had, he wouldn’t have dreamt of excusing himself from the raid for selfish reasons.
The group left the house on foot, leading the horses. The night was utterly dark, with no moon or stars visible, though not as cold as the previous few nights had been, because of the heavy cloud cover. They carried lanterns part of the way but extinguished them as soon as they were past the lava. It was so dark that they got quite close before Audun was able to make out the low pitched roofs of Thorstead. His nervousness increased. By morning—if he was still alive—he would know the outcome. They would either be on their way to Norway, victorious, or they would be defeated and disgraced. Audun realized he was shivering. Never before had he taken such a gamble.
Before they reached the perimeter wall, Helgi and Embla split off from the group and went to the front gate. Their plan was to lure the dogs to the front of the farm, so the raiders could enter round the back.
They did not have long to wait before they saw the dark profile of a large, muscular animal pass between two buildings. It prowled silently across the gap and vanished into the shadows on the other side.
‘How are we going to keep them quiet? They’ll go crazy as soon as they smell the meat,’ Embla said in a whisper.
‘Give me the bucket,’ said Helgi.
He took the meat bucket and slipped inside the gate. It wasn’t long before the dog reappeared. It stopped about twenty yards away up the track and stared directly at them; they saw its eyes burn yellow in the darkness. A low growl rumbled in its throat. Helgi took a slab of meat from the bucket and raised his arm slowly, careful to avoid a sudden gesture that the dog might perceive as a threat, and tossed it as far as he could towards the animal. It fell a long way short, but the dog padded over to it, sniffed it, and snapped it up. A second dog appeared, attracted by the smell of the meat. Helgi threw another piece, but hadn’t counted on the first dog wanting second helpings. There was a scuffling noise as they fought over the scraps. Three more ravenous dogs ran over, alerted by the sounds of competition, and thrust themselves into the scrum. Helgi tossed another handful of the soft, dripping flesh and all five dogs fell on it at once, biting and snapping.
Helgi and Embla waited breathlessly for the knock-out potion to take effect.
The dogs had eaten everything Helgi had thrown them but were still alert and casting round for more, so he tossed several more pieces which were quickly devoured. Helgi watched the first dog, whose behaviour was different from the rest. It was trying to reach the meat but could not get there fast enough. It took a few uncertain steps and shook its head impatiently. Its eyes were dull and cloudy, with no inner light. It stood swaying from side to side, then dropped and rolled over.
‘It’s working!’ whispered Embla excitedly.
Helgi turned to look at her. ‘You mean you weren’t sure it would?’
She grinned and shrugged. ‘Generally I treat people—not dogs.’
Moments later, the second dog swung its head from left to right, tottered forward on weak and uncoordinated legs, and fell limp on its side.
‘They’re dropping like flies!’ said Helgi.
‘But there are only five dogs here—there should be six,’ Embla pointed out.
It was then that the sixth dog made its appearance: an enormous wolf-like creature with tufts of matted hair hanging from its tail and haunches. Helgi scraped around inside the bucket. There was only one small morsel left. He slung it at the dog anyway.
By now four of the other five dogs lay asleep and the fifth was having trouble holding its head up. Its eyelids twitched, its legs gave way, and it sank to the ground.
But the sixth dog, a huge, wild-looking brute with pale, shining eyes, a black muzzle, and hanging jowls, showed no signs of drowsiness. The meat had only whetted its appetite. It licked the ground where the scrap had lain, then raised its head and sniffed the air. Its tongue was distended, its jaws dripping with saliva. Perhaps it scented the bucket for it turned its head towards Helgi and growled in blind fury, as if it knew it had been given short measures.
Helgi stood motionless with his back to the gate, some twenty yards from the dog. There was only one thing he could do now, and he did it instinctively, without thinking. He stared at the dog as if transfixed, with his head slightly tilted to one side.
The dog crouched, eyes blazing, hair bristling and ears laid back, its long, yellow teeth bared in a snarl. The deep-pitched rumbling in its throat grew louder. Suddenly it sprang forward and bounded towards the gate where Helgi was standing. Embla expected Helgi to leap back over the gate, but he stayed where he was, his eyes fixed on the animal.
The beast leapt with its front paws extended, and hit Helgi on the chest, throwing him backwards. Embla gave a stifled cry. Helgi landed on his back with the dog on top of him. The empty bucket skittered away. Embla saw Helgi struggling with the dog, almost hidden beneath its broad shaggy back; the dog’s enormous forepaws on his chest, pinning him down, its muzzle buried in his throat. She seized her knife and pushed through the gate with some half-formed idea of plunging it into the beast’s hairy back—when suddenly Helgi thrust his head out from under the dog. He was giggling and obviously not in the danger she had supposed him to be. She saw now that the dog was licking his face, his ears were pricked up and his tail wagging with enthusiasm.
‘Are you all right?’
Helgi looked at her as if he wasn’t quite sure, but then nodded. He squirmed underneath the animal, trying to push the weight off him and fight free of its hot, stinking breath, the wet muzzle rubbing his face, the globs of saliva, and forced himself up on his elbow.
‘You just want to play, don’t you?’ he said breathlessly. The dog backed off a little, panting and grinning, tail wagging furiously, and licked his hand. Helgi gently stroked his ears. Then the dog rolled over and let him tickle his belly.
Embla could not believe her eyes. A moment before, the dog had been intent on tearing out Helgi’s throat. Now they were the best of friends. The dog seemed to have forgotten what it was supposed to be doing or suddenly changed its mind.
‘You gave me such a fright!’ she said in a loud, cross whisper. ‘I thought he was going to maul you to death. Why didn’t you get out of there?’
‘I knew he wouldn’t hurt me.’
‘How? How did you know?’
Helgi shrugged his shoulders and turned back to the dog. The dog was watching him intently, as if waiting for a cue. Helgi made no obvious signal, but he must have given him one, because the dog suddenly sat up and begged. Helgi rewarded him with a big show of affection, ruffling his head and rubbing his lower back.
Embla hung over the gate and watched them in fascination. The dog was almost certainly intoxicated, but that didn’t explain the strange interaction between them. They both remained quiet for a time. Helgi looked away. The dog’s eyes were rivetted on Helgi. Suddenly he rolled over on his back and played dead. Helgi praised him again and scratched his chest between the forelegs. The dog wriggled about happily on the ground, enjoying the attention he was receiving. The next moment, the dog jumped up, stood on his hind legs, and offered Helgi his paw. He was grinning from ear to ear. Helgi laughed and took his paw and kissed it. He seemed to be able to tell the dog what to do just by looking at him or by teasing him – making him wait and pretending to ignore him.
‘How are you doing that?’ Embla hissed.
Helgi glanced up and met her eye. ‘What?’
‘Making him perform those tricks.’
‘I’m not doing anything. He’s just a talented dog.’
Embla giggled. ‘Go on, you can tell me.’
‘He just likes me, that’s all.’
‘You must have some idea how you do it.’
Helgi shook his head. He couldn’t possibly tell her how he did it. He felt funny talking about it.
‘You never tell me anything,’ Embla grumbled.
Helgi was sorry to disappoint her, but he really didn’t want to go into it, and besides, he was genuinely baffled by her question. It was as if she’d said to him, ‘Helgi, you can walk. Tell me how you do it,’ or ‘Helgi, what did you have to do just now, to speak those words?’ Most people would consider such questions stupid, because walking and talking were just things they did without stopping to think about how they did them. Helgi’s ability to charm animals was much the same. He didn’t know how he was able to do it. It was just something he could do, and had been doing ever since he could remember. The trouble was, he didn’t know anyone else who could do it, so he had always been careful not to say too much about it.
‘All right,’ he said, suddenly reckless. ‘If you must know, I’m pulling on an invisible leash.’
‘Liar,’ said Embla.
Helgi shrugged. It was a lie, but he didn’t know how else to describe it.
‘Why don’t you go and give the others the signal?’ he said, without looking at her.
Embla sighed crossly, but got down from the gate and went anyway.
The dog was resting his paws on his lap and gazing at him with friendly, intelligent eyes; Helgi smiled back at him and fondled his bony head. He felt elated, just as he always did when he achieved a perfect understanding with another creature. It gave him enormous pleasure when an animal responded warmly to him and wanted to be his friend.
A glance or a touch of the hand was all it took. If the animal received the message he sent out, a connection would form between them, as if they were tied by a strong, invisible thread. If he needed to summon a reindeer or a horse after it had been released, or entice it into the corral or the stable with the promise of salt or fodder or a smoky fire to ward off bloodsucking insects, he could send a message out along the thread. The more contact was made, the stronger the thread became, until he imagined it as a braided rope.
Once he had ‘roped’ the animal, any sudden burst of feeling on his part, such as fear or enthusiasm, sent a ripple through the threads, and infected the animal as well. It seemed to Helgi that he communicated his feelings rather than words, but that the feeling often carried an idea which could be translated into words or pictures or any terms the animal understood. Most animals comprehended him instantly, and more often than not they would adopt the alien thought as their own idea, and act upon it.
Kol seized on all his ideas without having to be told, and sometimes took them one step further than Helgi would have dared. If Kol ever asked him, ‘Why do I have to carry these saddlebags?’ he only had to answer, ‘Because you’re stronger then me, of course!’ and Kol would accept that and even feel flattered.
Helgi felt sorry that it had to be so. People used animals for work, and thought they had nothing to learn from them. Yet there was more depth of wisdom in an animal’s eyes, more power and sensitivity in their bodies, and they were more capable of love and trust than most people he had known. Being in their presence often filled him with emotion, a feeling so intense that it had to be released. He felt robbed, incomplete, as if he was mourning for something he had lost or never known. When he bound himself to another animal, so they were a greater, unified being, it was almost as if he had forged a connection to a buried or forgotten part of himself.
He recalled the moment when Kol had first come to him. He had stood in the rain, not looking at Kol, just waiting: then felt the soft vibration of Kol’s hoof-fall as he picked his way towards him and the warm breath on his face as Kol sniffed him, and the deep, overwhelming happiness that flooded him as he embraced Kol’s neck.
And now he had managed to disarm one of Eric’s sentinels in a matter of moments, the time it took to run the twenty yards or so to the gate. He was only a farm dog, to be sure, but his whole purpose in life had been to guard the boundaries of his territory and defend it against intruders. Planting the idea that he should give them a friendly welcome had required a complete reversal of loyalties on the dog’s part, and the fact that he had tasted blood hadn’t made it any easier.
Not that getting round a domestic dog was in itself a remarkable feat. If he had stopped all six dogs at once, or subdued a wild beast that had really wanted to kill him—now that would have been something to be proud of.
* * *
While Helgi and Embla were taking care of Eric’s guard dogs at the front of the farm, Audun and his companions, who had gone round the back, sat huddled behind the low stone wall that surrounded the hay meadow, waiting for the signal to go. It was full night, with no hint yet of approaching dawn. They had left the small troop of packhorses and their six riding-horses tethered to a stunted willow beside the stream. The ponies stood at rest, their soft snorty breathing and the gentle sounds they made as they shifted their weight from one leg to the other only just audible above the murmur of the water. Audun was glad they were behaving well. All their lives and the success of the expedition depended on keeping absolute silence. He felt his heart thudding against his chest. He kept thinking about his previous sally into Eric’s hay meadow. He could hardly believe he had volunteered to cross the same one hundred yards or so of open ground again! But hopefully he wouldn’t have to contend with any savage dogs this time …
He caught a glimpse of movement in the darkness and gave an involuntary start of surprise. The others flinched at the same instant and their hands flew to their weapons. When they saw it was Embla, they grinned in relief, their teeth gleaming strangely white in their dirt-smeared faces.
Embla gave them the thumbs up. The men piled over the wall at once and set off across the field at a crouching run. Moments later they dived into the cover of the wall on the other side. The whole team had crossed the strange knobbly ground without incident. So far, so good. Audun shifted his position to peer over the top of the wall at their next objective. A dozen yards of open space stretched between them and the first outhouse. There was nobody in sight.
When they were ready to move, Jorund gave the signal and they were on their feet again. They hopped over the wall, crossed the edge of the yard, and ran lightly along the rear of the buildings, trying to muffle the crunch of their boots upon the gravelly ground. Their eyes scanned the darkness, like hawks. They slipped into the gap between the storehouse and a long building that looked like a stable, halted, and listened. It was deathly quiet, though the pounding of Audun’s heart sounded loud in his ears. He swallowed hard. This last stretch was the most dangerous because the door to the storeroom could be easily seen from the main residence.
Jorund risked a quick look round the corner of the wall. There were two men with spears stationed right outside the farmhouse door. He ducked back and informed the others with a hand signal: two fingers pressed together.
‘Lure ‘em over,’ whispered Karl. ‘Bark like a dog. The rest of you, get ready to spring.’
They got into position, flattening themselves against the wall, three on each side with Jorund and Karl foremost in line. Jorund grinned round at the others, then raised his head and uttered a full-throated howl.
They waited, motionless and breathless. The guards were listening too; Audun pictured to himself the effect that unearthly howl must have had on them: their tense, rigid bodies, the looks of uncertainty on their faces.
For several moments all was silent. Then Jorund gave a loud rumbling growl and barked twice. Opposite him, Sam’s face split into a broad grin.
‘Wretched animal,’ they heard one of the guards say. ‘Go and shut him up.’
‘No, let’s both go,’ said the other, who sounded nervous.
They heard the guards approaching from the left, with hesitant steps. Audun was really feeling the tension now. He visualized them crossing the yard and passing the front of the storehouse. The moment they turned the corner, they would see them.
At the moment the guards entered the gap between the two buildings, Jorund’s foot shot out in a well-timed kick that slammed into the belly of the man on the left, knocking all the wind out of him, while Karl dealt the man on the right a swift, strong overhead chop to the back of the neck, with the side of his hand. The men didn’t even cry out. They crumpled to the ground and lay still. The others moved in fast, tying their hands and feet and gagging them. They dumped the guards, who were still unconscious, around the back of the storehouse and went back to reconnoitre the yard.
The coast was clear. Jorund signalled the fact to Audun, who passed the word to the others and gestured to them to follow him. One by one, they emerged from their hiding place and crept along the front of the building. The doorposts stood out halfway along the length of the wall.
Audun had hoped the Ericssons would have gone to bed or passed out under the table by now, but lights were still burning inside the farmhouse. As he watched, the farmhouse door suddenly opened and a man stood silhouetted against the light. A broad bar of light stretched across the yard, and the noise of laughter and loud conversation flooded out. The raiders flattened their backs against the wall and froze. Audun felt his heart stop beating.
The man—they could tell by his outline that it was Thorgrim—was clutching the doorframe with both hands and staring at them in speechless disbelief. Audun tensed his jaw, waiting for a scream of rage to go up, but Thorgrim stepped outside the building quite calmly. For a moment, Audun had the crazy idea that he was coming over to greet them, but suddenly Thorgrim clutched his stomach, doubled over, and retched loudly. There was a faint spattering sound. He took a few lurching steps away from the door before he groaned and heaved again. This time a whole torrent gushed from his mouth. Audun’s face wrinkled in disgust. He tried to catch Jorund’s eye but Jorund would not look at him. They waited for Thorgrim to stop but it went on and on. Every time they thought he had finished, he puked again. Along the line, Sam and Kormak began to shake with suppressed laughter. Audun could feel hysteria welling up inside him too. It was unbearably funny: Thorgrim too sick and too blind drunk to see there was a raid going on right under his nose. Audun could imagine how stupid they would look, if he were suddenly to sober up and see them there: a row of grinning idiots, lined up against the wall, frozen in the act of breaking into the storehouse.
Thorgrim straightened up and wiped his watery eyes and mouth. Audun felt his eyes pass over them twice. Perhaps he had caught a hazy glimpse of something but he gazed at them without recognition, seeing their shadowy forms only as part of the structure of the wall. He staggered back inside and the door slammed shut, cutting off the light and voices.
There was no sound from the raiders, save for a collective release of breath.
From a distance, the storehouse door had appeared to be locked and barred, but on closer inspection they found that the lock was open, the transverse bar had been slid aside, and the door was slightly ajar. Audun’s heart leapt. He offered up a silent thank-you to Solveig and was about to reach for the handle when Jorund stopped him. He gave him a warning look which said: Someone could be in there right now!
It was too dark to see in through the crack in the door. They listened for sounds, but none came from inside the building. Jorund drew his sword and stood to one side of the door. He motioned to Audun and Sam to take the other side. Keeping his weapon forward, Jorund reached for the latch and swung the door wide open. It creaked horribly on its hinges. Audun held his weapon at the ready, fully expecting someone to jump out on them.
But no one did.
The open door let in just enough light to show them the way across the floor. They moved cautiously inside, looking behind every box, in case someone was hiding there. It was quite possible that Eric had posted a night-watchman or laid some kind of trap … but the building turned out to be empty of people.
There was no shortage of movable goods though, piled perilously high, and in some places almost touching the ceiling. Audun made a mental note of the position of the stacks of boxes before Alf pulled the door to behind them, shutting off what little light they had. It was almost pitch dark but they dared not strike a light in case it was seen from the farmhouse. They inched forward carefully, feeling their way among the walls and columns of crates. It would be easy to knock something over in the dark.
‘Which are ours?’ Audun whispered. It wouldn’t be right to take what didn’t belong to them, and Halfdan would be unhappy if anything was left behind.
‘Let’s start here,’ said Jorund. ‘The long box in the middle looks familiar.’
Audun’s groping hand touched rough wood; running his fingers up and down the boxes, he reckoned it must be a stack of five.
‘Help me get the top one down.’ They muscled the heavy box off the top of the stack and Jorund pulled off the lid. ‘That’s ours.’ He handed the box to Alf. The ringmail inside was wrapped in cloth, but something clinked whenever Alf moved it. Fortunately the noise was not too loud. Jorund prised the lid off the next box down and felt inside. ‘Furs,’ he muttered, delivering the box into Kormak’s arms. Audun took charge of the long wooden case. ‘What’s in it?’ he asked. ‘Spears,’ replied Jorund. ‘Try not to rattle ‘em around too much.’
There was a clatter as something fell over and rolled across the floor. The noise made everyone start.
‘Watch it!’ hissed Jorund. ‘Everybody just keep still!’
Audun and his friends stood by helplessly while Jorund and Karl searched for the rest of the boxes. After prising off a number of lids and feeling around in the darkness, they came across two more, but it took a long time to find the remaining three. With nothing to do but wait, the others grew increasingly nervous. Audun expected Eric’s men to walk in on them at any moment.
The last three were eventually discovered under some sacking by the back wall. Now they had accounted for all eight boxes, and were about to carry them outside when Jorund suddenly froze, as if a noise had alarmed him. He put down his box, motioned to the others to do the same, and darted behind a wall of crates towards the back of the storehouse. The others joined him and ducked low behind the crates and listened, holding their breath. They heard the measured thud of heavy footsteps. It sounded as if two men were approaching. They stopped outside. Someone tried the door. It creaked open, a gust of night air blew in, and lantern light flooded the building. The raiders, dazzled by the light, crouched low behind the boxes, trying to make themselves as small as possible.
‘Unlocked,’ muttered a deep voice. ‘Careless.’
‘Will a small cask do?’ asked the other.
‘Nah, it’s the whole barrel he wants.’
‘He’s had more than enough already, if you ask me.’
They heard the sound of a heavy object being dragged across the floor, and a grunt as the men tipped it onto its side. So far, Audun had not dared to look out, but now he peeped through a gap between the boxes. The broad back of one of Eric’s servants filled almost his whole view.
Audun touched Jorund lightly on the arm and looked at him as if to say, ‘Shall we leap out on them?’, but Jorund shook his head.
They could hear the servant rolling the barrel towards the door, which the other man held open for him.
‘Bolt it,’ growled the bass voice.
The door closed and they were plunged into darkness once more. There was a sharp scraping noise as the bar was shoved into place, then the sound of retreating footsteps and the muffled rumble of the barrel being rolled across the yard. A distant door slammed, then all was silent.
Audun and his friends stood in the darkness, wide-eyed and utterly speechless. Then moans of fury and exasperation broke out on all sides.
‘Now what? We’re locked in!’
‘We should’ve jumped them!’
Jorund was already at the door, pushing hard against it with his shoulder. ‘It won’t budge. Lend us your axe, Sam.’
Sam felt his way around the boxes, and hastened to the door but Jorund suddenly stopped him with a sharp ‘Shh!’ They stood rigid, listening intently. From outside came the sound of light feet hurrying closer, and a faint jingle of keys. A gleam of light appeared beneath the door. Jorund stepped back and drew his sword. The bolt was drawn and the door slowly opened, grating on its hinges. Jorund raised his sword, ready to strike.
A lantern, held high, threw its glancing light on the face of a young woman. Peering through the doorway, she gave a violent start when she saw, standing just inside, the dark shadow of a man with a raised weapon. She clutched at her breast, staring at his blackened and unrecognizable face with terrified eyes. For a moment, Jorund stood frozen to the spot, almost as startled as she was. Then he lowered his sword and sheathed it without a word. Audun came forward, pushing past Jorund and Sam in his eagerness to get to her.
‘Solveig!’ he burst out, recollecting too late that he was supposed to keep quiet.
Every time he saw her, her beauty almost struck him to the ground, and now the shock of their unexpected meeting, after so many months, went through him like a bolt of lightning.
‘Hush! Not so loud!’ Solveig whispered, pressing her finger to her lips.
‘We weren’t expecting to see you!’ he whispered back, indescribably agitated at seeing her again.
‘Well, that’s funny, because I was expecting you,’ Solveig replied in a low voice, lifting her long, white linen dress a little as she stepped inside and smoothing her hair. ‘Why else do you think I volunteered to lock up? I wanted to check you’d been and gone.’
Audun stared at her with astonished joy. ‘I—I’m sorry we frightened you,’ he said, putting out his hand and timidly touching her arm.
‘Frightened me? I wasn’t frightened, just surprised. I didn’t expect you to be still here. Most people would’ve grabbed the boxes and run, not barricaded themselves in!’
Audun laughed and felt his face go hot with embarrassment. ‘Oh, the door! That wouldn’t have held us for long—we were just about to break it down.’
‘Of course you were,’ said Solveig, widening her eyes in mock admiration. ‘And rouse the whole household with the noise! What a brilliant idea, Audun. You should be proud of yourself.’
Audun suddenly felt about three feet tall. He didn’t mind her making fun of him when they were on their own, but it was a different matter with his friends all around him. Glancing at Sam and Jorund, he saw that they too were crimson-faced with fury and embarrassment, but whether they were more annoyed about being rescued and ridiculed by a woman or being denied the fun of busting out of Eric’s storehouse, he couldn’t be sure.
‘You certainly saved us a good deal of trouble,’ Audun conceded, ‘but we’d have fought our way out if we’d found ourselves surrounded—no question about it. We’ve already knocked out the guards. If you don’t believe us, take a look behind the storehouse.’
Solveig looked at him with a cool, mocking light in her eyes. ‘Oh, I believe you. And I’m sure you boys would have put up a good fight. Jorund looked so disappointed when he saw it was me and he wasn’t going to get a chance to use his sword on my kinsmen after all.’
She smiled tauntingly at Jorund, who flushed dark red and turned away, muttering angrily that he might still use his sword—the night wasn’t over yet.
Solveig reverted to Audun and said in a voice that sounded cold and a little disdainful, ‘Well, Audun, I hope you and your friends have found what you were looking for, because now I must ask you to leave.’
Jorund looked about him and gestured impatiently to the men to take their boxes. Solveig stood by the door, her face cold and composed, her body tall and dignified like a statue, and watched them depart one by one into the night, clutching the crates to their chests. Audun waited till last, hoping to say a few words to Solveig, though he was almost too frightened to approach her. She seemed so angry. He was afraid he had lost all his credit with her.
When he came to the door, he said, ‘It was good of you to run such risks to help us. We’re all deeply grateful. I know I had no right to ask you … no right at all … but now we’re able to leave on our expedition, thanks to you. Solveig, you can’t imagine how happy I am to see you again. It’s been a long time, and so much has happened …’ He paused, his eye distracted by the gleam of her bare neck in the lamplight, below her thick silver braid, which was coiled up into a careless knot. He had never seen her so beautiful. He wanted to go on talking simply to delay the moment when he had to leave, but he could not think of a word to say. Her beauty and her nearness to him and the danger they were in and the fact that it was the first time he had seen her in many months, and might be the last, and that they were alone together had driven every coherent thought out of his head. His heart was drumming against the box he held in his arms. A kind of terror was growing on him and a frustrated, painful excitement, and he searched her face for signs of the same, but all he saw was a stern and unsmiling expression. She had not spoken one kind word to him so far. Suddenly, he feared the worst: that she was going to tell him he had blown his chance, and it was all over between them.
‘You’re going to marry him, aren’t you?’ he blurted out.
There was an uncomfortable silence. Solveig pressed her lips together and her foot tapped a nervous, impatient little rhythm beneath her gown. ‘Now is not the time for a prolonged conversation about that. I don’t wish to discuss it, nor to listen to any recriminations from you.’
‘I wouldn’t dream of reproaching you or arguing with you about it,’ Audun protested, looking distressed. ‘I know it’s none of my business. If you’re happy, that’s all that matters.’
Solveig’s eyes were fixed on the ground, but suddenly she raised her head and asked him, with a bitter, sad little smile, ‘Do I look happy to you?’
Her sudden change in tone caught Audun by surprise. He gazed long and intently at her face in the flickering lantern light, and in her despairing look he seemed to find some hope for himself. Lowering the box to the ground, he said, ‘No … no, you look thoroughly miserable. What are you going to do about it?’
‘Nothing.’ Her voice sounded weary and resigned.
‘Nothing?’
Fixing her eyes on the opposite wall, and not looking at him, Solveig began to justify herself in a calm, precise, reasoning voice, as though she had gone over all the arguments in her head many times before. ‘Hedin is an excellent match. He’s handsome, brave, highly accomplished. He comes from a good family and he has plenty of wealth. He’s the most likely man here in the west to become a chieftain if he sets his mind to it. Most women would consider themselves lucky to have him as a husband. My family are urging it strongly because an alliance with him would be an advantage to them, and it’s hard to go against them. I could not give him an outright refusal. If he can get a chieftaincy, I will certainly marry him.’
‘But you don’t love him.’
Solveig gave a small shrug. ‘Perhaps I will come to love him in time.’
‘Then there’s nothing more to be said,’ muttered Audun, looking away. He stared at the ground in gloomy dejection. ‘Unless,’—he shot her a hopeful glance—‘Unless you’re looking to me for help. I’ve told you before that I’d do anything to make you happy.’
Solveig shook her head. ‘I can’t ask you to do anything for me. It wouldn’t be right or fair or proper.’
Audun threw up his hand in an impatient gesture. ‘I don’t know why you keep confiding your unhappiness to me if you don’t want my help!’
‘Please, Audun, just listen to what I have to say, and then I want you to go.’ She moved closer and said in the same calm, precise, reasoning voice that she had used when speaking of Hedin, ‘You know it’s impossible for us to be together. There are too many obstacles in the way. So please, don’t speak of it. You’re a good man and I think your prestige will be greatly enhanced by this journey. But most people would say you’re getting above yourself if you think you could ever marry a chieftain’s daughter.’
Audun tried to think of a good reply. He knew he was in no position to demand that she break off her engagement to Hedin and marry him instead, and it would be disrespectful to her to pretend that he was. But he could not relinquish her altogether.
‘I’m not asking to marry you, Solveig,’ he said, ‘I only want to serve you.’
‘I can’t think what you mean by that,’ said Solveig, the colour suddenly rising in her face. ‘There’s no possibility of us continuing to meet like this … in secret, if that’s what you mean.’
‘No – I wasn’t suggesting … ’ Audun blushed in confusion. If she’d wanted to carry on meeting him in secret, he wouldn’t have said no. But the risk of discovery was too great. He had a vague plan that once he had made enough money, he would return and offer to take her away from all this, but he didn’t think he should mention it just yet. Unhappy though she was, Solveig did not appear to want to change her situation.
‘All I meant was, I wish you would take me more seriously. Halfdan does—he’s given me all sorts of responsibilities. He’s prepared to put me to the test. I know I might seem an unlikely champion, but with the thought of you to spur me on, and the support of my friends …’
‘Those same friends who were with you when you got locked in,’ said Solveig doubtfully.
‘I know—it was stupid—we should’ve knocked the servants out or tied them up or something. But this was only our first raid. We’ll do better next time.’
‘I don’t know, Audun. I’ve seen nothing so far that convinces me you know what you’re doing. All I’ve seen is you and your friends messing about. And now you’re asking me to trust you and hope that everything will come out all right in the end!’
‘Solveig, listen to me. Most people would say I’ve acted very cautiously up till now. I’ve done everything I could to avoid fighting Thorgrim because I didn’t want to put you in a difficult position.’
‘Yes, but isn’t that the whole problem?’ said Solveig, raising her voice to a loud whisper. ‘I’d rather not risk having us live so close to one another any more. I think it would be better for both of us if you went abroad and started a new life. That’s why I helped you tonight – because I want you to go away.’
‘I don’t think that’s the only reason you helped me,’ Audun replied sullenly. After a pause, he added, ‘Well, I am going abroad, but I’ll tell you this: I’m not afraid of your kinsmen, and I’m certainly not leaving the country on account of them.’
He was silent for a while, pondering the problem.
‘Perhaps your family will look on me differently when I return rich and famous.’
‘No matter how wealthy you are, they’ll still say you’re the son of an impoverished fisherman, and you’re an arrogant man if you think you could ever match Hedin.’
‘Well, maybe I am arrogant,’ Audun replied, as though he hadn’t noticed the cruelty of her words, and actually agreed with her, though inside he was angry with her relations and angry with Solveig for caring what they thought. ‘But I can’t help asking myself, why do you always confide your troubles to me?’ he said, looking at her suddenly. ‘And why shouldn’t I have the advantage over Hedin, since I know you don’t love him? Maybe that’s what gives me confidence.’
Solveig shook her head, but her mouth curved into a faint smile.
‘I don’t understand why you won’t give me a chance,’ Audun went on, in a soft, persuasive voice. ‘What have you got to lose? If I die, you marry him. If I make a name for myself before the three years is up, I’ll come back and you can decide whether I’m worthy to ask for your hand. A chance, that’s all I’m asking for.’
‘A chance,’ Solveig murmured.
‘Yes. All I want is your blessing.’
‘You’re pressing me very hard, Audun.’ She sighed, then lowered her eyes and tried to say something, but stopped. Audun frowned and waited. At last she looked at him reproachfully and said, with an almost painful effort, as though he were wringing the words out of her, ‘You know I want you to succeed more than anything. I don’t need to tell you that, because you know it already.’
‘Well, no,’ Audun replied slowly, staring at her in surprise, ‘I didn’t know that. Not at all—not for certain.’
Solveig blushed and looked deeply uncomfortable. ‘I should never have told you. I don’t know why I did—I don’t think any good will come of it. But it’s too late to unsay it now.’
‘No, no, it’s good that you told me—it means everything to me!’ Audun caught hold of her hand and gazed joyfully into her eyes. I can’t believe it, he thought. I’m the one she wants. She’s told me so herself. How strange and wonderful this is. I must be dreaming, this can’t be happening to me.
The door creaked suddenly; they both jumped in fright and Solveig pulled her hand out of his as if it had been burnt. Audun drew his sword, reached for the handle of the door, and pushed it. The door swung outwards, slowly, creaking on its hinges, but there was no one there.
‘It’s nothing, just the wind,’ he said, but Solveig looked terribly afraid. ‘I must go back to the house before they suspect anything. I’ve been gone far too long.’
Audun put the sword away and picked up the box. Solveig stepped back against the wall to allow him room to pass through the doorway. He went out sideways, because the box was so long, and she followed him out, closing the door behind her. Audun rested one end of the box on the ground and held the lantern for her while she slid the bar into place and fitted the key in the lock. The cold night air did nothing to clear the excitement in his head and the feverish tingling in his body. He knew he ought to go at once, for her sake, but found it quite impossible to leave her. As for his own safety, and the recovery of Halfdan’s weapons, he gave no thought to that at all.
‘So, this is it,’ he said heavily, wondering whether she would allow him to kiss her goodbye. Solveig glanced up at him, nervous fingers fumbling with the key. She looked so on edge that Audun was beginning to think that if he’d walked away right now, without saying another word, she wouldn’t have minded.
‘Will you be all right?’ he asked her. ‘Eric will go crazy when he finds the stuff missing.’
‘Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine,’ she replied firmly. She slipped the little circlet of keys over her thin, tapering hand and onto her wrist.
‘But I don’t like leaving you to deal with this mess …’
‘Please, Audun, you must go.’ She threw a nervous glance over her shoulder at the farmhouse. ‘I don’t like this deceit. It frightens me. I don’t know how it will end.’
‘But Sol—’
‘Hush! Go now, or they will discover us!’
‘But Solveig,’ Audun repeated in a trembling voice, with a pleading look, ‘I’m leaving tomorrow. This could be the last time … Perhaps this is the end. Perhaps we’re saying goodbye forever.’
Solveig hesitated, glancing first at him and then at the farmhouse, flustered and evidently undecided, but his words must have made an impression on her, because suddenly she left the door and came up close to him and slipped her hand through his arm.
‘This campaign of Halfdan’s,’ she said, trying to keep her voice casual, ‘is it really as hard as people are saying it will be?’
‘It’s quite possible none of us will be coming back,’ said Audun, looking at her gravely. Solveig nodded as if she understood. There was not a trace of happiness in her face. Audun wondered if she would cry for him, just as she had at the autumn games. ‘It’s hard for me to leave,’ he went on, ‘not knowing when I’ll see you again. But I’m glad to be going because it gives me a chance to make something of myself—and to serve you. I don’t mind if things get tough. I’d willingly go through fire and flood for your sake.’
Solveig’s expression softened and Audun knew then that his little speech had moved her, and her last doubts had melted away. She drew closer, so close that their faces were only inches apart, and he was about to put his arms around her when she touched the dried mud on his cheek with her fingertip and giggled softly.
‘Look at your face!’ she whispered. ‘You look just like a savage.’
Audun spat on his hands and hastily rubbed his cheeks. ‘Better?’ he asked her with a wide-eyed, anxious look.
Solveig shook her head and burst into giggles. ‘Worse, if anything!’
‘Never mind, kiss me anyway,’ he said, feeling his stomach dip and hardly able to believe that he was speaking these words aloud. ‘On the lips, not the cheek.’
Solveig flashed him a teasing smile, blue eyes sparkling under her long lashes. ‘Come back later when you’ve made yourself presentable and I might consider it.’
‘Oh, come here,’ Audun growled, feeling his blood surge, and he grabbed hold of her. Solveig let out a stifled scream of laughter as he pulled her roughly towards him, but did not offer any resistance or turn away. He kissed her long and hard on her smiling lips, and after a moment he felt her mouth soften and respond to his. When they drew apart, her eyes were shining and a look of guilty happiness lit up her whole face.
‘Who would you rather kiss—me with a mucky face, or him?’
‘You,’ she said in a breathless voice.
Audun kissed her again, holding her body flat against his, feeling her hand moving slowly over his back, and his fingers tangle in her silver hair as he cradled her head. He breathed in the warm scent of her skin, mingled with the fresh night air, and tasted her mouth as their kiss deepened, dark and salty like blood. He wanted it to last for ever and to lose himself in it, because he had never known such happiness, and because he knew what Solveig would say when they broke apart.
‘Now go,’ she gasped when she was finally able to speak, pushing him gently away.
Audun took one long, final look at her, then picked up the box and ran.
He ran because he felt like running—he was so light that he didn’t even feel the weight of the box—and hardly conscious of where he was or what he was doing. It was only after he had gone a little way that it occurred to him he had kept the others waiting a long time, and ignored Jorund’s orders, and taken a terrible risk staying behind. He had kissed her twice, on the lips, right outside the farmhouse, putting her in as much danger as himself! That was the effect she had on him. Whenever she was there, he behaved like a madman. He just couldn’t help it. The whole meaning of his life centred on her. When he was with her, nothing else mattered.
Tucking the box under one arm, he vaulted over the low wall and struck out across the hayfield, stumbling every now and then because he was unable to see beneath the load in his arms and the troughs and hummocks in the ground frequently caught him by surprise. A little frightened now at his defection from the group, he ran full pelt to catch up with the others. He was afraid they might have gone without him. By the time he had carried the box across the hayfield, he was sweating and breathing hard, his hands were smarting, and his arms knotted with cramp, but he didn’t give the pain much thought. He just hoped his pack-horse would still be waiting outside.
When he reached the edge of the field, he saw his friends were still there. He deposited the box over the wall and uncurled his stiff hands, which were covered in painful red creases. Everyone’s eyes were on him as he hopped over the wall. They were all ready to leave. The horses had already been loaded, the larger boxes strapped onto the saddles and the smaller ones slung from the hooks and pegs that ran along the sides of the seats.
A flash of annoyance crossed Jorund’s face when he saw him. ‘What took you so long? No, don’t tell me, I don’t want to know. Just hurry up, and let’s be off!’ he said in a sharp, furious whisper, which left Audun in no doubt that he would have yelled at him at the top of his voice if there hadn’t been a pressing need for quiet.
Audun could see why he was angry—it was just before first light and they wouldn’t have the cover of night much longer. At the same time he felt a little sorry for Jorund. The poor fellow could never have been in love, otherwise he would have known that opportunities to be alone with one’s mistress should never be passed up.
He mumbled an apology and staggered over with the box to the one pony whose saddle was still empty.
Sam and Kormak beetled over at once to find out what he’d been up to.
‘You’re looking incredibly pleased with yourself,’ observed Sam.
‘Took your time, didn’t you?’ said Kormak, grinning at Audun in a leery way. ‘Jorund was getting worried. He was convinced Eric had laid a trap for you with “that interfering woman” as the bait. He wanted to go back and haul you out of there, but we told him to give you a bit longer.’
‘Thanks,’ said Audun, smiling at his inquisitive friends. ‘Give us a hand with this box.’
They heaved the box onto the upper side of the pack saddle, which resembled a rack, and began to secure the load with ropes and straps.
‘Well?’
‘Well what?’ Audun busied himself tying a knot in one of the straps.
‘Did you shag her?’ whispered Kormak, staring at him avidly.
‘Straight and to the point,’ said Audun, frowning at him. ‘No, Kormak, I’ve always acted respectfully towards her and anyone who says otherwise is going to get his bastard teeth knocked down his bastard throat.’
‘All right, man, we believe you!’ said Kormak, chuckling and raising his hands in mock-surrender. ‘If only because a nice girl like her wouldn’t let a fellow like you touch her with a ten-foot pole.’
‘Nah, there’s something he’s not telling us,’ said Sam.
A huge smile spread slowly over Audun’s face. He could now truthfully boast that Solveig would rather kiss him than Hedin. But he thought it better not to say too much about it, even to his friends. If people talked, there would be a scandal and Hedin would discover her betrayal …
‘We talked, that’s all,’ he said.
Kormak tutted in disappointment. ‘What a waste of an opportunity.’
‘Even if that was all you did, you’ve had it once Hedin finds out you’ve had a secret meeting with her,’ said Sam. ‘If he thinks there’s the slightest possibility of dishonour to himself, he won’t be slow to get back at you.’
Audun was pleasantly surprised to find he didn’t feel too worried. ‘I’m not afraid of him in the slightest,’ he thought. ‘Now that I know she loves me and not him, I feel as if he has no power to hurt me at all.’
‘Hedin is the last person I’d wish to fight,’ he said aloud, ‘but if he accuses me of behaving dishonourably towards her, I shan’t hold back. And no one’s going to stop me talking to Solveig—there’s no dishonour in that.’
The box was firmly tied on now, but every time the horse moved, the saddle shifted and the load slid sideways. ‘Move the box further your way,’ he told Sam. ‘It has to be balanced, with the weight even on both sides.’
‘She’s a good-looking girl, but too proud and stuck up for my taste.’ said Sam. ‘It’s an awkward shape, this box, it’s way too long.’
‘No, it’s heavier at one end than the other, that’s what’s making it slip.’
They tried tightening the breast-collar and the back-cinch which held the loaded saddle in place, and readjusting the pack several times, Eventually, Audun decided the arrangement would have to do. Dawn was coming up fast and it already was light enough to see well. The sooner they could get away from Thorstead, the happier he would be.
Helgi and Embla who were waiting at the front gate saw them gallop past. Jorund and Karl led the pack train out in front. The others drove the laden horses before them across the flat slope of the valley. They were heading straight for the sea. The boxes that hung from saddlehooks bounded about on the horses’ sides. It seemed to Helgi that the clatter of box lids and thunderous noise of hooves would rouse Eric’s whole household from their beds.
‘Let’s get out of here,’ he said. He seized Kol by the bridle, and they ran after the others.
As soon as the guard-dog saw Helgi leaving, he set up a loud, sorrowful howl.
Halfway across the valley, Audun noticed that the packbox was slipping and becoming lopsided. Suddenly, one side came unhooked and the box slid off the horse’s back. It bounced along the ground and the lid flew open, scattering spears all over the grass. The horse came to a halt, her hind leg entangled in the trailing straps. Cursing to himself, Audun drew up beside her and jumped down. The rest of the ponies rushed on, followed by Alf, Sam, and Kormak, and arrived in some disorder at the edge of the cliff.
Helgi and Embla caught up with Audun and helped him gather up the spears.
‘Not far now,’ Audun told Helgi. ‘You take one end, I’ll take the other.’
They ran with the box the rest of the way, while Embla followed, leading Kol and the packhorse. Carrying the crate between them, Audun and Helgi descended the cliff by some rugged stairs, and came down to a scrap of beach, bound in on one side by a long line of high cliffs. This was where Eric kept his fishing boats, but Helgi barely gave the boatshed a glance. He was more struck by the view across the bay, where the Swan rested at anchor, and the sun was emerging from the horizon, streaking the water with red and gold gashes and inflaming the sky with a vivid light that reminded him of raw salmon flesh.
They dumped the box on the shore. The other horses had already been unloaded. Alf was hefting boxes over to the rowing boat and Sam and Kormak piled them high on board, while Jorund held the boat by the nose in the breaking surf. Audun felt a warm glow of triumph. Now all they had to do was ferry the stuff across to the Swan where Halfdan would be waiting.
Karl rounded up the horses and Helgi helped him lead them back up to the top of the cliff. They strung the horses together by the muzzles in groups of three. Jorund, Karl, Alf, and Audun took a bunch of strings each and set off back to the Forge, leading the horses and talking excitedly about the night’s adventures.
Helgi went back down to the beach, where he found Embla waving off the boat. It was so full that there was only room for one person to row, so Kormak sat in state on top of the pile of boxes, while his brother pulled at the oars. They watched the little boat cross the blazing trail the sun had left on the sea, and creep away over the water.
‘That went better than I expected,’ said Embla.
Helgi agreed. Suddenly weary after their sleepness night, they climbed the rough steps that led up from the beach and collected Kol who was grazing on the clifftop. There was a chill in the early morning air and they were both shivering with cold and tiredness, and looking forward to breakfast.
It was then that they heard the ringing thud of hoofs and saw three men on horseback galloping madly towards them from the direction of Thorstead. The man out in front leading the charge was wearing a magnificent dark-blue cloak that flew out behind him like a billowing sail.
‘Thorgrim,’ observed Embla. ‘And he’s dressed to kill.’
‘Yes, that’s a expensive-looking cloak.’
‘No, I mean he intends to kill you, Helgi. He’s wearing the dark colours of an assassin.’
‘The large axe in his hand would suggest that too.’
‘Come on, Helgi, let’s go!’
Helgi got on his horse but had no intention of fleeing. His courage was up and he was determined to stand his ground.
‘I’m going to settle this for good,’ he said. ‘There’s no point running back home; Kol wouldn’t be able to outstrip them with both of us on his back. They’d only catch us up at the lava field. Keep back, Embla—leave this to me and Kol.’
Embla gave a small nod and voiced no objection, though her white face, her rigid jaw, and shining, terrified eyes betrayed exactly what she thought of Helgi’s proposal.
Helgi positioned himself in the middle of the field, drew the long staff out of its sling, held Kol’s reins in the other hand, and awaited the arrival of his enemies. He was in an exalted mood. Kol was only a short horse, but sitting astride him, with a stout weapon in his hand, Helgi felt immeasurably superior to the Ericssons and physically bigger as well, as if he had been raised high above their heads. He and Kol were ready to engage all three Ericssons in combat—whether they came at them one by one, or attacked all at once like the cowards they were.
Helgi was confident that they could stand the encounter. When they fought together, Kol became more than a small horse and he became more than a boy.
Thorgrim and his brothers reined up before them several feet away. Thorgrim eyed up the distance, casually swinging Ogress in his hand.
‘Pity the handle of my axe isn’t long enough to reach your head, Easterner,’ he snarled.
Helgi gave him a look of unbridled contempt. ‘I know I’ve done things to offend you, Thorgrim, but I’m not going to apologise. You deserved it. We’re leaving the district tomorrow for good and I promise you won’t have to see us again. So are you going to let us go on our way in peace, or do you want us to settle our differences once and for all?’
‘The way things stand we can’t let you get away. Nobody insults the Ericssons and gets away with it.’
‘Then what about a duel? I’ll fight Thorstein and we’ll see who has the greater strength and luck.’
‘Thorstein’s not taking up your offer. You’d only pull a dirty trick like last time. You’re a devious little troll and you don’t deserve fair treatment.’
Without warning—without uttering a sound, Thorgrim drew back his arm and threw the axe at him. It hurtled through the air, the blade flashing as it spun, but Helgi swung the staff and deflected it so it landed head down, embedded in the grass.
Kol, who seemed to know what to do by instinct, charged at the left edge of the group and Helgi swung his heavy stick at the youngest Ericsson, determined to put at least one of them out of the fight. The attack was so unexpected that Thorstein did not have time to field the blow, which landed on his side, knocking him right off his horse. He fell on his head, and lay on the ground, stunned but not visibly hurt. ‘One down,’ said Helgi, rolling his shoulder which had been jarred by the stroke. Kol cantered on a little way before turning and heading back towards the group.
Thorbrand, the middle Ericsson, spurred his horse and rushed to meet Helgi, bent forward, holding his spear like a lance. With the bridle in his left hand, Helgi brandished the stick, ready to smash the spearshaft as soon as Thorbrand got close. He gripped Kol’s sides with his knees, bracing himself for the impact. When Thorbrand was almost upon them, Kol shied to one side, out of reach. Helgi struck out with the staff and nearly lost his balance. He grabbed wildly at Kol’s neck, letting go of the stick in his panic.
Kol wheeled around, and Helgi saw Thorbrand turn as well and position himself to attack from the other side. Thorbrand charged again, holding the spear low. This time Helgi had no weapon with which to ward off the attack and had to throw himself off Kol’s back to avoid the spearpoint. He landed on his side; he felt as if all the breath had been knocked out him and a burst of pain filled his left shoulder.
Embla drew in her breath sharply when she saw him fall.
‘Stop, stop it all of you!’ she shouted, anxious to put an end to the fight now that it was no longer going Helgi’s way.
Thorbrand dismounted and ran at Helgi with the spear. Helgi rolled away and scrambled to his feet and drew Footbiter. Kol, who was beside Helgi, whinnied in alarm at seeing him in danger. As soon as Thorbrand came within range, he reared up and lashed out with his hooves. His front hoof caught Thorbrand in the ribs and sent him staggering backwards. But the kick appeared to have inflicted little damage, for Thorbrand recovered quickly. With a roar of rage, he thrust at Kol with his spear, but Kol stood up on his hind legs so the spear passed under his hooves. He would not let Thorbrand get anywhere near Helgi, but jumped from one side to the other, marking him closely and holding him at bay.
Thorbrand was enraged to find himself in the inglorious position of duelling a farm animal. He lunged at Kol again and again and grew red in the face with frustration and shame. Kol fought back gamely, with shrill battle-squeals, dancing on his hind legs, parrying with his hooves and making vicious counter-strikes. It soon became clear that Thorbrand had seriously underestimated his opponent; indeed, it took all of his skill to defend himself. Kol pressed him hard and gradually forced him to yield ground. Bruised on both shoulder and thigh, Thorbrand grew increasingly pale, but fought on doggedly, determined not to surrender or cry for help.
When he saw that the pony was holding his brother in check, Thorgrim swore in disgust and said he would deal with Helgi himself. He alighted from his horse and advanced on Helgi with a drawn sword in his hand, fully bent on his destruction.
Embla, seeing Helgi in such great danger, could not stand by any longer. She pulled her knife from her brooch chain and ran over to defend him, but Thorgrim caught her, pinned her arms tightly, and wrenched the knife out of her grasp. Embla struggled and stamped her heel hard on Thorgrim’s foot, making him wince in pain. Then suddenly she froze and went limp. Thorgrim had pulled her head back by the hair and was holding the knife against her bare neck, his face contorted by a jeering smile.
Helgi’s eyes were locked on Thorgrim and Thorgrim watched him narrowly. The only sound was Embla’s frightened sobbing.
‘Let her go, Thorgrim,’ said Helgi in a warning voice.
‘First call off that bewitched animal and thow your weapon over here.’
Helgi had no doubt that Thorgrim would hurt Embla if only to spite him. He tossed Footbiter over to Thorgrim. ‘Kol’s got a mind of his own—I’m not his master. I can’t stop him—he’s having too much fun.’
As if to prove his point, Kol ran at Thorbrand with bared teeth and nipped him in the backside. Thorbrand howled with pain and leapt away, rubbing his bottom with both hands. Kol whinnied in amusement, and went for the other buttock. Thorbrand took to his heels and fled and Kol romped merrily after him.
Helgi wondered what Kol would do to him when he caught up, but there was no time to watch the fun.
He turned back to Thorgrim. ‘Now let her go!’
Thorgrim pushed Embla away. He kicked Footbiter well out of Helgi’s reach, and slowly advanced upon Helgi, his face twisted in savage triumph. He began to laugh softly as he raised the sword over his head to strike Helgi down, and his laughter had an edge of madness. Embla screamed and covered her mouth with her hands.
For the second time in his life Helgi was convinced he was going to die. He had no shield with which to guard himself. His one remaining weapon, Skeggi’s sword, looked too fragile to withstand the shock of a violent blow, but he was desperate and had no choice.
He drew the sword and held it shakily out in front of him with both hands. Thorgrim gave a scornful laugh when he saw its brittle rusty edges, and drew himself up to cleave the weaker blade in two, but Helgi felt the sword come to life, flashing with swirling and pulsing lights and shapes, exerting a tremendous drag on his arm. If he gave into it, the sword would pull his spirit free. His body would fall unconscious to the ground and Thorgrim would no doubt sneer, thinking he had fainted in terror. But Helgi would have the last laugh, when his invisible self plunged the blade’s ghostly counterpart into Thorgrim’s back.
Thorgrim had turned his back on Embla and the staff that Helgi had dropped lay near her feet. She snatched it from the ground and charged at Thorgrim, swinging the stick back over her shoulder. Before Helgi could free himself, he saw Embla bearing down on Thorgrim from behind, stick raised high. Her shadow must have fallen over Thorgrim, for he looked up just as she brought her cudgel down. The wood cracked across the top of his skull with a dreadful thud. Thorgrim dropped to the ground like a stone. Embla stood over him, holding the stick in her hand.
She swayed slightly and the stick fell from her hand and hit the ground with a hollow thump. Helgi bounded forward and caught her arm, thinking she was about to faint or throw up.
‘Are you all right?’
Embla nodded, pale and shocked. She stared at the body, as if hardly able to believe what she had done. Suddenly she looked distraught.
‘I haven’t killed him, have I?’ she whispered.
Thorgrim lay on his side with one arm bent under him. His face was composed as if he were asleep. No blood was coming from the bruise that Embla had inflicted on the top of his head. Helgi dropped down on his heels and felt for the pulse in his neck.
‘He’s alive,’ he said, jumping up.
Embla let out a long, trembling breath. ‘You should get a proper sword, Helgi,’ she said, in a shaky voice.
‘You’re right. This one’s a piece of junk.’ Helgi slid the sword away. ‘Thanks … thanks for what you did. You saved my life! When Thorgrim held that knife to your throat …’ He swore softly to himself. ‘I never imagined he’d go that far. You could have been killed!’
He touched the thin red line that the knife had imprinted on her neck. Embla smiled at him faintly and tears came into her eyes. For a long moment neither of them spoke.
Then Kol came trotting back, his ears proudly erect, and presented himself to Helgi, whinnying softly and nudging him gently with his head. ‘Well done, Kol,’ murmured Helgi. He hugged the pony’s neck and buried his face in Kol’s shaggy mane.
Thorgrim stirred on the ground. He was already starting to come round. The bruise on the top of his head had swollen into a purple lump almost as big as a chicken’s egg. It was an impressive-looking battle wound but not one that Thorgrim would care to boast about.
‘Come on, let’s go,’ said Helgi, snatching up his scramasax. He was in a highly excited state as a result of their victory over the Ericssons. He fitted the staff back into its sling, then sprang on to Kol’s back and helped Embla up behind him. ‘Hold onto me,’ he told her. Embla put her arms lightly around his waist. She was trembling from head to foot—he could feel the tremors running through her, even though they were barely touching—and that excited him even more.
Helgi turned Kol’s head towards the Manor and they set off across the headland at a fast trot. He quickly urged the horse to a gallop. As their speed increased and the ground rose, he felt Embla’s grasp tighten around his middle. When they got to the lava, Helgi brought Kol to a slow walk, but once they were past it, he gave rein to the horse again, and felt Embla lean into him as they dashed down into the valley with the wind in their faces.
When they arrived at the Manor, pink-cheeked and breathless from the ride and the excitement, they found Hedin sitting alone in the hall. Although he had refused to take part in the raid on the Eric’s farm, he had clearly stayed up all night. He leapt up when they came in.
‘Have they finished loading the ship?’
Helgi told his cousin everything that had happened in an excited tumble of words.
‘Embla gave it everything she had. Wham!’ he said, imitating her action. ‘And he just dropped to the ground. You should’ve seen her—it was unbelievable!’ He grinned at Embla and began to giggle. ‘You really should’ve been there, Hedin. Thorgrim had this massive purple lump on the top of his head—it just grew and grew! He’ll have trouble hiding that under his hat!’
‘Don’t joke about it,’ said Embla, giving him a reproving look. She had stopped trembling but still looked white and shaken.
‘I’m not joking! I don’t know why I’m laughing—it certainly wasn’t funny.’ Helgi made an effort to control himself. Then his mouth twitched and he burst into giggles again. ‘You should have seen Kol duelling with Thorbrand. Now that would have been funny, if Thorgrim hadn’t been holding a knife to Embla’s throat at the time. I was so afraid, I really thought he would hurt her—it was terrible!’
Hedin looked disgusted. ‘I never thought he would stoop so low. To put a young lady through such a terrifying ordeal.’
‘Oh, I’m all right,’ said Embla, but Hedin steered her by the elbow to a bench and made her sit down. He poured her a generous measure of ale from a pitcher that stood on the table. Then he poured a hornful for Helgi and one for himself. Helgi sat down beside Embla and Hedin sat opposite them.
Helgi rested his elbow on the table and propped the side of his cheek on his fist. In this position he could glance sideways at Embla without turning his head. After what had happened, he could well believe that the everyday Embla and the stern, beautiful dis with the fiery hair were one and the same creature. He scrutinized her face discreetly, hoping to catch a glimpse of the dis, but she was veiled from sight.
‘What went wrong then? I suppose Audun and Jorund bungled the raid,’ said Hedin.
‘No, far from it! They got everything down to the ship. But as soon as I left the farm, the dog started howling and woke everyone up. Thorgrim must have discovered the stuff was missing. He set off in pursuit and we were the first people he saw. He just went for us.’
Hedin’s face became thoughtful. ‘I was expecting reprisals, but I didn’t think he would act so soon. I thought he’d wait until I was no longer around …’
Helgi realized his cousin was remembering the time when Thorgrim had threatened him with a spear, just outside the mound. On that occasion, Hedin’s sudden appearance had been enough to prevent Thorgrim from attacking him.
‘But Hedin, you weren’t around,’ he pointed out. ‘Maybe Thorgrim’s less afraid of you now that you’re going to marry his cousin.’
He spoke without sneering or bitterness, but Hedin took it as a gibe, as indeed it was intended to be.
‘I’ve made it perfectly clear all along that I dislike your feud with the Ericssons,’ Hedin replied coldly. ‘I have obligations to Solveig and her family, as well as to you and your father. You can’t expect me to—’
‘I haven’t come here to beg for help, if that’s what you’re thinking!’ Helgi retorted. ‘We’re only here because Embla was upset and this was the first place we came to—’
‘It’s all right, cuz, I’m glad you came here,’ said Hedin. His voice was soothing now, his manner solicitous. ‘You’re in a tricky situation. Thorgrim knows that you’re leaving later today. This will be his last chance to get back at you. It worries me that we’re leaving you behind, quite friendless. I doubt whether Grimnir will be much of a deterrent—he doesn’t look like a fighter to me.’
‘It’ll take Thorgrim a day or two to recover from that knock on the head,’ said Helgi.
‘Even so, you should stay on your guard after we’ve gone. I’ll ask my father to give you an armed escort. They’ll see you as far as Jon’s house.’
‘Will Arnor mind lending us his men? What if we get into a fight?’
‘Arnor would say, as I do, that he’s under an obligation to provide you with as much support as he can.’
Helgi thanked his cousin profusely. He felt much happier now that the adults were taking a hand. Arnor’s men would shield them from the risk of ambush, and if they were there, Grimnir would have fewer opportunities to corner him on the journey, and make strange threats or overtures.
Embla was biting her lip and watching Hedin anxiously. She had not spoken for a while—she had let Helgi do the talking—but now she said in a small, timid voice, ‘Hedin, please don’t tell Arnor about Thorgrim’s attack on me. I don’t want him to stop me going with Helgi.’
Hedin smiled at her in a way that seemed to say he found it amusing to see her running after his cousin and wasn’t going to spoil the fun by interfering.
‘Arnor doesn’t have to know everything, I suppose,’ he said.
The Adventures of Helgi the Viking 