'I am thinking you would,' Sigurd said, showing his teeth.
'I shall baptize you, Jarl Sigurd, and you will become one with the true faith,' Egfrith said firmly. He pointed a finger at me. 'And you will be next, Raven.'
'You mean to stay with us, Father?' I asked, glancing at Sigurd.
'My lord Ealdred has lost his mind, God have mercy on his soul,' Egfrith said. 'His wits have addled.' He looked up at me and pointed again, this time accusingly. 'The gospel book of Saint Jerome belongs here in an English house of prayer,' he spat angrily. 'It is no bauble! Such a thing is not for barter like a swine at market. Not even if the buyer is Charlemagne, God praise his hatred of heathens.' He raised his palms, closed his eyes and crossed himself, and I think he knew he had said too much, for if he intended to retrieve the Christ book, the last thing he ought to do was let us heathens know its value in silver. 'I will show Sigurd the most holy light, Raven. It will warm his ice-encrusted, maggot-ridden soul.' His eyes flicked to Sigurd, but the jarl appeared to take no offence. 'We shall all know the rewards of Paradise if the good Lord wills it. Perhaps even you, Raven,' he said as though he were offering me the world.
I shook my head. 'Not me, monk, but I'll be there when you baptize old Asgot.' I turned to see the godi wading out to Serpent, his arms raised to the blue sky. 'I wouldn't miss that for Svein's weight in coin.' Sigurd seemed amused by it all. 'Are you letting him ride Serpent with us?' I asked. I could not believe the jarl would take a useless Christ slave aboard his longship. I was horrified. 'Lord?'
Sigurd pursed his lips, then nodded. I bit my lip. Egfrith shot me a triumphant look and I shook my head and looked towards the shore. Cynethryth was staring out to sea, twining her hair into one thick braid, and the sight of her twisted a knot of pain in my chest, for I realized I would soon be gone, crossing the grey sea with the Fellowship. I would not see her again.
Later, Sigurd told me of the fight in the forest against Ealdred's men. His charge, as ferocious as a winter storm at sea, had surprised and shattered the English. It had cleaved them as a man drives a maul into an oak timber to split it along the grain.
'That whoreson Mauger didn't stay to the end. He does not know how to lead men.' Sigurd spat the words as though they were poison. 'Bjarni saw him mount up and ride as though his arse was on fire. The English fought bravely but they had no war leader and we cut them down, Raven, until their corpses lay thick as litter across the forest floor. The rest fled into the trees. It was a great victory.' He gripped the sword hilt at his hip. 'The gods were watching. I could feel them.'
The Wolfpack emerged ragged and bloodied but victorious. In all, seven Norsemen and all but one of the Wessexmen who had stood with them died that day and many others suffered grievous wounds which old Asgot was hard pressed to treat.
'Many good men now sit at the All-Father's mead bench, Raven,' Sigurd said, his fierce blue eyes threatening to fill with tears.
'They will shake the dust from the rafters, lord. Óðin will be proud to have them.' I did not know what else to say.
The Fellowship was one again; thirty-seven Sword-Norse oathsworn to Jarl Sigurd. The morning was clear and bright and the Norsemen busied themselves checking Serpent's hull, sail and oars. 'I'm happy that your friend chose to come with us,' Sigurd said, smiling and pointing at Penda who stood a little way off, running a whetstone along his sword's battered edge. 'I think he likes silver as much as he likes slaughter.' The jarl shook his head. 'A strange Englishman, that one. Fights like a demon. Perhaps his father was a Norseman, hey?'
'He's a vicious bastard, lord,' I said with a smile.
'Aren't we all?' Sigurd ran a hand through his golden hair. Then his eyebrows arched mischievously and he batted one of my dark plaits, the one with the raven's wing still entwined in it. 'Freyja's tits, lad! You look like Black Floki, but even meaner,' he said.
I glanced at Floki who was goading Svein the Red. 'No one looks as mean as Floki,' I said, loosening my aching neck and shoulders. 'I'm sorry I did not cut Ealdred's head from his neck, lord.' I looked out to sea and the glittering lip of the world. 'He has the Christ book and it will make him rich.'
'And he has Fjord-Elk,' Sigurd growled. Then he gripped my shoulder and watched as Svein the Red walked up Serpent's boarding plank with a sack of food over each shoulder. We had found several such sacks amongst the shelters on the beach. I considered telling Sigurd about the cross Ealdred had put at Fjord-Elk's prow, but thought better of it.
'It's time we rode Rán's daughters again, Raven,' he said, his eyes blazing hungrily. 'Will you bring the girl?' I had not dared to hope Sigurd would take a woman aboard Serpent, but then again, he was taking a monk. What did I know?