Blood Eye(111)

'You miss it, don't you?' Cynethryth asked as I stopped to test the wind's direction by throwing a handful of grass into the air. I nodded, inhaling the salty air. The wind still blew from the south and this was good because it meant Ealdred could not have sailed yet. Sigurd could have taken Serpent against the wind, but Ealdred was not Sigurd, and I hoped he would not dare risk the ship's being thrown back against the coast. Of course, he could have rowed her instead. It would be backbreaking work against the waves, but it would take him away. But then, Ealdred did not know he had anything to fear, and so we had to believe he would wait for a good wind.





'I have come to love the sea,' I said, thinking of the Fellowship, of Sigurd and Svein and Olaf. 'The sea can tell you much about yourself, but the knowledge does not come easily. First you must trust your life to her.' I grimaced. 'Being out there in a storm is terrifying, Cynethryth,' I said.





She frowned. 'My mother used to fear the sea. She said it was hungry for men's souls and that's why so many drown trying to master her.' She gave a humourless smile. 'Sounds like something a heathen would say, doesn't it?'





I nodded. 'But your mother gave birth to you, Cynethryth, and you are as brave as anyone I have known.' She dragged her teeth across her bottom lip and the ache to kiss her was so strong that I looked away. 'I think fear can kill you in its own way,' I said quietly. I removed my helmet to mop my brow. 'Fear keeps a man by his hearth and sees him grow old before his time. Fear makes a man betray his friends when it seems the gods have abandoned him,' I said, thinking of Glum. 'Did you ever look into Jarl Sigurd's eyes? Right into the dark holes at their centre? Or Bjorn's or Bjarni's or Olaf's?' She shrugged. 'The sea lives within them, Cynethryth. They are wild as the sea is wild, but they are free. No man commands the waves.'





'My mother would not have liked you, Raven,' Cynethryth said. 'She would not have let me walk with you to the market, let alone this.'





'Your father will like me even less,' I said with a grin. But Cynethryth was not smiling.





'I no longer recognize my life,' she said. 'Everything has changed. I am alone.'





'No, Cynethryth, you are not alone.' I felt my cheeks fill with warmth and for a few moments there was just the low roar of the sea and the decaying screech of far off gulls. We watched a great black cormorant head out to sea, its wingbeats strong and even.





'The wind has dropped,' Cynethryth said suddenly, and she was right. 'We must hurry.' I looked out to sea and saw a distant island of grey rock and knew that the longships sat further to the east, where we had moored them those many weeks ago. I knew also that our luck had run out. The wind had suddenly changed, coming from the west now and whipping the scent of yellow horned poppies off the far hills towards us. We stuck to the higher ground, tracking eastwards in the hope of rounding the bluff to see Serpent and Fjord-Elk rocking below us on the rising tide. What would we do then? What patterns were the Norns of fate weaving for us?





I took my war gear from the flour sack and put on the mail brynja, helmet and sword, re-clothing myself as a warrior of renown. Perhaps I was the last of the Wolfpack. Perhaps Sigurd and the others were already feasting at Óðin's table in Valhöll, waiting for me to join them in preparation for Ragnarök, the final battle of the gods. I shivered at the touch of the cool iron, finding its weight comforting though thinking it strange what courage forged iron and steel can give a man, even when in his heart he knows it will not be enough.





'Horses! Listen, Raven!' Cynethryth said above the noise of the surf. 'Hide! Quickly!' With my helmet on I heard nothing, but looked around, thinking there must be a ledge out of sight below the chalk cliff edge. But it was too late. Riders galloped over the rise before us, trampling the thick grass.





'Your father's men?' I asked, then recognized the banner tied to a rider's spear. A leaping stag on a green cloth. 'You don't need to answer that,' I murmured, gripping my sword's hilt and resisting the urge to unsling the round shield.





'Leave it to me. Don't kill them,' she warned, and I was flattered, because there were twelve of them.





The horsemen reined in before us, yanking back on their mounts' necks to stop them, and I noticed that the animals were still fresh, meaning that Ealdred was probably close.





'Lady Cynethryth?' one of the warriors asked, leaning across his saddle to get a better look at the girl. They all wore leather armour, but all had swords at their waists.





'Where is my father, Hunwald?' Cynethryth demanded, throwing back her hood.





'The ealdorman is putting out to sea in the Norseman's ship, my lady,' he said, thumbing behind him. 'What in God's name are you doing here?'