Blood Eye(34)

'I wouldn't be you come judgement day, that's all I'm saying,' Ealdred muttered as he dismounted smoothly and handed the reins to a slave. 'Wait here. I will announce your arrival.' He disappeared into the hall, an imposing cob-walled structure with a high-pitched roof of new thatch. Sigurd turned to his men and put two fingers to his eyes, a warning to stay vigilant. A group of boys with wooden swords stood a short way off, watching us excitedly, whilst the men and women went about their tasks, but more slowly now, moving carefully and deliberately. And there was fear in their eyes. You are right to be afraid, I thought. I have seen these men slaughter such as you. I have seen them burn houses like yours. I have seen them make the Blood Eagle.





I patted Ealdred's horse's flank and the beast skittered and whinnied, tossing its head and almost breaking free of the retainer's grip. 'Horses can smell the sea on a man, Raven,' Olaf said, looking at the animal with its rolling eyes and the poor groom who was cursing and fighting with the beast. 'They fear it as we fear Hel herself and her flea-bitten beast.' Half black and half flesh-coloured, grim Hel guards the underworld and those damned souls killed by sickness or old age. 'Keep your swords tucked up in their beds, lads,' Olaf warned, 'and lower your axe, Eyjolf, bloody thing's like a cunny-hungry cock!' The men's laughter broke the tension for a moment, then Sigurd pulled them taut again.





'Look like the wicked, blood-loving whoresons you are, lads,' he said, rinsing his hands in the rain barrel by the hall's entrance. 'If the Englishman betrays us, we fight our way to the sea.' The men nodded and the gang of boys began to fight each other, showing off their prowess to these strangers, these blue-eyed men from the north who carried great war axes, spears and round painted shields.





I was tempted to run then, to tell Ealdred about the raid on Abbotsend and escape. But I knew if I did the Norsemen would kill Ealhstan, and even if they did not, I could not leave him. And if I ran, where would I go? Ealdred's people were strangers to me. They would likely fear my blood-eye as Ealhstan's people had.





As ritual demanded, the Norsemen left their weapons outside the hall where, Ealdred assured Sigurd, his grooms and servants would take excellent care of them. 'I have heard the Norsemen's reputation for the love of their weapons,' the ealdorman said respectfully. 'You have my word they will be safe, but they must stay outside.'





Sigurd agreed, but insisted on leaving five men, including Svein the Red, outside the hall to guard their arms. Small knots of Englishmen were gathering, watching us and arranging cloaks, tunics and brooches, and I wondered if they would join us.





'You see our reputation is well deserved,' Sigurd said with a wry grin to one of Ealdred's retainers. 'We love our swords more than our women. You can trust a good sword, even a beautiful one,' he grinned, 'but a woman? Never.'





The man seemed unsure for a moment before giving a shallow bow. 'You are my lord's guest,' he said, 'it shall be as you say. I will have mead brought to those who remain out here.'





'Come inside, Sigurd.' Ealdred stood at his hall's threshold. 'The sea air makes a man thirsty, don't you think? I have just the remedy.' Bjarni farted loudly, then shoved me forward and I entered Ealdred's hall.





The interior was ill lit with foul-smelling, flickering candles. A draught blew the hearth smoke in all directions and some of us coughed, having just come from clean air. Smoke-blackened tapestries swung slightly in the gusts, keeping out the worst of the wind gathering strength outside. Two huge hangings showing Christ's crucifixion curtained off the far end of the hall.





'See their skinny god?' Bjarni said, pointing at the tapestries. 'He looks like a sparrow strung up to smoke.' He shook his head. 'These Christians are strange.'





'Here is my prayer to the White Christ,' Osten said, then gave a loud belch. 'I hope their food is better than their choice of god,' he added, nudging Thormod who smacked his lips hungrily. Njal kicked Sigtrygg excitedly as a pretty slave girl fed more wood into the hearth above which a cauldron simmered, giving off steam which smelled of carrots and onions. The girl pretended not to notice us, but as she turned to the table to begin cutting strips of meat for the pot, I saw an impish smile touch her lips.





'Did you see that, Sigtrygg?' Njal said, puffing up his chest. 'She likes the look of old Njal.'





'I saw nothing,' Sigtrygg said with a shrug, 'but don't worry, my friend, I'll let you cling to your dreams seeing as they're all you have.' But Njal was too busy eyeing the girl to take offence.





'Sit down,' Ealdred said, gesturing to the long oak table and mead benches running almost the length of the hall. The Englishmen I had seen outside were entering now, their scabbards empty but their eyes full of mistrust. 'Tell me of your travels,' he went on cheerfully. 'We had a merchant from far-off Frankia here some months ago, but he spoke no English and I wouldn't have trusted a garlic-reeking word from his mouth anyhow. How long have you been at sea, Sigurd the Lucky?' A hint of mischief touched his face beneath the drooping moustache.