Blood Eye(26)

'I will take Floki, Osten, Ingolf, Olaf and Osric,' Sigurd said. 'No shields, helmets, mail or axes.' Some of the Norsemen began to complain at this. They prized their arms above all else, especially their mail, and hated being without them. But they knew they could not wear their brynjas and remain inconspicuous.





'Let me come, Sigurd,' Svein the Red pleaded, the ghost of disappointment in his huge, open face. 'I can carry twice what Floki can.'





'There's no better load a man can carry than common sense, Svein,' Olaf teased. Svein's huge shoulders slumped. 'Óðin's words, lad, not mine,' Olaf added defensively. 'You should be with the ships in case the English come,' he said. 'We'll need your axe if they do.' Svein stood a little taller then and Osten slapped the giant's shoulder in consolation.





Sigurd smiled. 'You would attract too much attention, Svein. The English have never seen muscles like yours. This land is so mild that weaklings thrive in it. Stay here, my friend,' he said, and Svein shot a proud grin at Black Floki, who rolled his eyes.





Sigurd turned to those he had chosen and I looked at the men who came forward. They were the ones of average looks and would have the best chance of blending in, except for Floki. To look at him was to see pure mischief. Sigurd put a hand on my shoulder. 'It would be better if you wore a patch, Osric,' he said.





I put a hand to my blood-eye. 'I'll keep it closed, lord,' I said.





Sigurd shook his head. 'Cover it.'





Olaf put his hands on his hips. 'And you, Sigurd?' he asked. 'What will you do to look like an Englishman?' Sigurd's brow furrowed. He looked every bit a warrior and a Norseman too. And he knew it.





'I'll go, Sigurd,' Glum said. Fjord-Elk's shipmaster stepped forward, loosening his plaits, and then shook out his dark salt-encrusted hair. 'I could pass for an Englishman. I just need Svein to stamp on my face so it's not so pretty.'





'Ha! At home I have a pig who is prettier than you, Glum,' Black Floki scoffed.





'That is no way to speak about your wife, Floki,' Halfdan said with a grin.





Sigurd raised a hand. 'All right Glum, you go instead of me.' He pointed to me, adding, 'But the lad does the talking. The rest of you keep your filthy mouths shut. And no fighting.'





'Who, us?' Glum said, leaning back in feigned dismay.





Some of the men wanted to remain among the trees where they could see the village and thus come to our aid if things went badly, but the risk of their being seen was too great and so the six of us went on alone, having agreed to meet Sigurd and the rest back at the ships when we had bought the provisions we needed. A light rain began to fall, turning the sky's colour from unpolished iron to soot black, but we were glad of it because men are less vigilant when trying to keep dry. A low rumble rolled across the clouds and Glum shared a furtive grin with the others.





'Thór's with us, lads,' he growled, touching his sword's grip as we marched on. I looked down at my own clothing and realized I would have to hide the pagan knife Ealhstan had found round my neck, and so I took it off my belt and tied it round my neck once more, tucking it out of sight. Then I glanced at the others for anything that might give us away as outlanders. Our tunics and cloaks were indistinguishable from English ones, but the Norsemen's brooches, buckles and clasps were not. In bronze, silver or gold they took the forms of fluid curves and intertwined beasts, and were clearly pagan things.





'Your combs,' I said to Osten, Ingolf and Floki who all had them hung round their necks on leather thongs. 'Tuck them inside your tunics. The English don't usually wear them like that.' They also covered their sword's hilts with their cloaks and ruffled their hair, believing that if Englishmen did not wear hair combs, they must care little about their appearance.





'It suits you, Osric,' Ingolf said, pointing to the strip of linen I had tied round my head to cover my blood-eye. 'It'll give you a better chance with the girls, mark my words.'





I narrowed my other eye. 'I can still see into your black heart, Ingolf,' I said. He gave a gap-toothed grin, but a moment later I saw him touch the silver amulet of Thór's hammer Mjöllnir at his neck and I smiled.





'There's our meat,' Glum said hungrily, pointing to an open-fronted house at the summit of the east hill. It sat beyond the wooden stake palisade that protected the heart of the settlement. We stood in a clearing littered with the stumps of felled trees from where I could see the white carcasses of animals hanging from beams. There were birds strung up by their legs, flapping their wings vainly. Through the rain the breeze brought with it the smell of the place and after being at sea it was strange now to breathe in the stink of cattle and human waste, wood smoke and food. Glum tapped me on the shoulder and handed me a leather scrip bulging with silver coin. 'We'll wait here, Osric,' he said. 'When you've bought the meat we'll come and get it. Remember, they must think you are a slave running errands for your master.'