Blood Eye(7)

'But the trade went well,' I said, watching Griffin absently crush the louse with a thumbnail.





His eyebrows arched. 'Aye, it went well,' he admitted. Then he shook his head, his eyes rolling. 'Burghild wants two of those big brooches, the bronze ones with the amber inset.'





'But the necklace?' I asked, remembering how proud he had been of his purchase earlier that day.





'She says it's no good having the necklace without the brooches to go with it,' Griffin grumbled. Then he caught my eye and we both laughed, waking a dark-haired heathen who managed a curse before closing his eyes again. I must have slept for a time myself then, for I was woken by the clunk of the latch and a creak of the hall door's iron hinges. The murmur of those still awake mixed with men's snores and I watched as old Ealhstan shuffled in, unnoticed by all but a few until the door's hinges gave one last creaking complaint. Ealhstan grimaced. Griffin jerked awake, spilling mead from the cup still in his hand.





'Nearly dropped off, lad. Where's he been?' he asked, nodding towards Ealhstan. 'Carving crosses for the pagans?' Then his eyes closed again and his head fell with a bang against the wall. Carefully, I took the cup from Griffin's hand and placed it on the ground out of harm's way as Ealhstan picked his way through the crowd over snoring, farting men.





'I'll go for the rod at dawn, old man,' I whispered, thinking Ealhstan had come to make sure I would be awake in time to catch his breakfast. But he batted the words away, frowning, and knelt with a wince. When he was happy that Griffin was asleep and that no one else was watching he stared at me, his thin face in shadow, his wispy white hair glowing in the firelight. 'What's going on?' I asked, and he put a bony finger to my lips. Then he took my hand and pressed something into it. I looked down to see a sprig of fern in my palm. I shrugged, divining no meaning from it. Ealhstan motioned that I should smell the leaves, so I rubbed the sprig between my fingers and sniffed. It smelled rank, like rotten parsnips, and I knew it was not fern, but hemlock. I have seen pigs and sheep die from eating hemlock; first they become excited, then their breathing slows and their legs and ears grow cold to the touch. They die swollen and stinking.





I dropped the leaves, spat on my fingers and rubbed my hands on my tunic. Ealhstan puffed up his cheeks and made the sign of the cross.





'Wulfweard?' I whispered.





He nodded, spotted Griffin's mead cup and picked it up, then pretended to sprinkle something into it. His eyes were slits below thick white brows. He turned and looked at Sigurd who was leaning against the west wall beside his great round shield, iron helmet and wicked, heavy spear.





I tugged Ealhstan's shoulder. 'Wulfweard means to poison Jarl Sigurd?' I hissed. 'You saw him gather hemlock?'





The carpenter spun back round, glancing at nearby heathens to make sure none had heard or understood. Then he glared at me and I nodded slowly, acknowledging the reproof. 'He's mad,' I muttered.





Ealhstan grimaced as though he agreed with me. Then he gestured to the hall's door and stood, motioning that I should follow him. Making sure not to wake the sleeping men around me, I got to my feet and followed Ealhstan silently out of the hall, casually loosening my belt as though I intended to relieve myself outside.





The night was dark and moonless. Two dogs were fighting over a fleshy bone. Someone's goose had escaped its pen and now sat on Siward the blacksmith's thatch, spreading its wings and honking proudly. Other than that, the village was asleep. I thought I could hear the surf breaking on the southern shore beyond the black hills. Then Ealhstan reached into the pouch at his waist and held something towards me without taking his eyes from mine. That's when I saw Alwunn, the girl I had lain with at the Easter feast. She stood in the eaves' shadow, wringing her plump hands and staring at Ealhstan. From the state of her knotted blond hair, I guessed the old man must have dragged her from her bed, and I felt a twinge in my stomach at seeing her.





'What's going on, Ealhstan?' I asked, looking at the small, bone-handled knife he had given me. A leather thong ran through a hole in the hilt. Ealhstan beckoned Alwunn irritably and she stepped from the shadows, giving a thin smile with her fat lips. She cleared her throat and glanced at Ealhstan once more for approval. He nodded and gave a grunt.





'Hello, Osric,' Alwunn said in a small voice. Her eyes widened and she touched her hair, suddenly embarrassed. She licked a hand and pressed it against an unruly hank, without success.





'What are you doing here, Alwunn?' I asked, aware of warmth kindling in my loins. 'Are you in your nightclothes?' She shifted awkwardly and I frowned at Ealhstan, who twirled his hand impatiently.