Blood Eye(101)

'And leave you here in the White Christ's land?' he said. I shrugged. 'I've told you, Raven. Just as Floki's life thread is woven into mine, mine is woven into yours.' He stopped again and this time his brow furrowed and his jaw clenched beneath the golden beard. 'I will always come for you,' he said, 'so long as my blood still streams through my body.' Then his face softened. 'You've done well, lad. By Óðin, you've done well. The men were worried about you, you know.' He smiled. 'Even old Asgot, I think.'





'And Aslak?' I asked.





'You broke his nose, Raven. Norsemen can be as vain as women.' He frowned. 'But I think he has forgiven you.'





'He should,' I said. 'Asgot set the bone straight for him. Mine's crooked now. Like a warped strake.' I turned, showing Sigurd my profile.





He laughed. 'So it is, Raven. So it is.' He stepped towards me, concentration suddenly etched on his face. 'Want me to have a go at straightening it?' he asked, studying my nose. 'I'm sure I can do it.'





I leapt back, my hand clutching my sword's hilt. 'With respect, lord, I'd rather fight you here and now,' I said. Sigurd laughed even more.





We found the watchtower abandoned. Inside, chicken and fish bones littered the ground and a heap of white ash sat smouldering in a ring of stones. Birch and green bracken had been piled against the wall so that it could be burned to dirty the sky with yellow smoke, and a plump ale skin leant against a log, though we did not drink from it in case it had been poisoned and left for us.





'The skinny brat was there,' Sigurd said, standing at the edge of the bluff, looking down on the fortress and the figures beyond its southern gate. 'The ealdorman's girl.'





'Cynethryth?' I said, my stomach churning.





'Aye, Ealdred's flat-chested daughter. Don't think she cares much for me.' He chuckled and for a moment he did not look like a killer at all.





'You can hardly blame her, after everything.'





Sigurd pursed his lips and shrugged. 'I don't see why she's so sour. You returned her to her father, didn't you?' He gestured to Caer Dyffryn. 'And we persuaded those filth-smeared whoresons to spit out her brother. The girl ought to show her appreciation, lad.' He winked mischievously. 'I've seen more meat on a flea-comb, but I'm sure she can't be as frail as she looks.' I scowled and Sigurd held up his hands. 'I'm teasing, Raven,' he said. 'You're a serious one, aren't you? The girl spoke to me. Must have burned her tongue, me being a savage heathen, but she seemed keen that I should come and find you before you got yourself into too much trouble.'





I leant my shield against the stone wall, unplugged the ale skin and sniffed the contents. 'I'm honoured that you came for me, lord,' I said.





'I want my ships back,' Sigurd said, 'and I want the rest of the silver that's owed me. The Englishman gave his word,' he spat, 'for what it's worth. I'd get what's due if I crossed this King Offa's wall and helped you get his precious son back.' He looked down into Caer Dyffryn. 'I've half a mind to ransom the lad. I'd sooner trust a dog not to chase a hare than trust the ealdorman. What kind of man sends thirty farmers and a crew of outlanders to fight for his son's life?'





'Some of them are good fighters, lord,' I said again, gesturing to the Wessexmen below.





Sigurd huffed. 'Ealdred is a snake.'





Regretfully, I tipped out the ale, watching as the foam sank into the hard ground. Sigurd bent and snatched up a handful of grass, which he dropped over the edge and watched as the breeze carried it away. I grinned, forgetting the cuts and bruises that nagged my body. 'You have more schemes than Loki himself,' I said, shaking my head. For I suddenly understood what Sigurd had in mind for the Welsh.





It was dusk when I blew into the bundle of dry grass and twigs, nurturing the embers that glowed delicately within. I was thinking I would have to strike the flint again when a burst of flame licked out, followed by a puff of yellow smoke that made me cough.





'Put it in here, Raven, before you burn off your first beard,' Svein the Red said, bending by the huge pile of wood at the edge of the bluff near the watchtower. It had taken us a long time to carry the timber up the hill and I was bone tired when I thrust the kindling into the grass-filled cavity. Svein and I stood back as the fire slowly took hold, whilst the other men waited in battle order in the valley below, their helmets and spear tips reflecting the last weak light of the day.





'Only Sigurd could have come up with this plan,' Svein said, picking up the ale skin I had discarded earlier. He looked miserable when he discovered it was empty, and threw it aside, reaching down the neck of his brynja to produce a stale crust from inside his tunic. He began to chew absently.