Blood Eye(73)
Eventually, I slept. And my dreams were filled with death.
CHAPTER TWELVE
THEY SAY THE DARKEST HOUR OF THE NIGHT COMES BEFORE THE dawn. That is when Glum came for me. I woke with a blade at my throat and might have struggled but for the knife Thorgils held beneath Cynethryth's chin. Thorleik stood a little way off in the shadows guarding Weohstan and Father Egfrith, and before I could knuckle the sleep and ale from my eyes my hands were tied and I was stepping over snoring men, a blade pushing me on. I looked towards the mound, thinking the men up there must surely hear us moving through the trees. Then I shivered, remembering. Glum and his kinsmen had offered to take the dawn watch. The dogs had planned their treachery well.
'Make a sound and I'll leave your corpse for the wolves,' Glum hissed, ramming his sword's hilt between my shoulders. Then he spun me round and ripped the bone-handled knife from my belt, the knife that was my only link to my dark past, and threw it into the brambles on the forest floor. Weohstan, Cynethryth, and Father Egfrith were stumbling on ahead as Glum's men hurried to distance us from the Wolfpack. Branches and thorns attacked from the darkness, ripping our faces and hands, but Glum knew he had crossed a line from which there was no return. He had split the Fellowship and betrayed his jarl, and Sigurd would kill him if they met again. Sigurd had already taken Glum's arm. Now he would send the man's soul screaming to the afterlife.
'Shhh!' Thorgils hissed, pulling Weohstan down to the forest litter. The rest of us crouched. A horse whinnied and nickered softly. A gentle breeze rattled the leaves above us, carrying the chink of arms and the creak of leather. A heartbeat later, the sound of breaking twigs filled the dark, dank stillness as the forest was disturbed. But the riders were not coming towards us. They were heading west towards the Wolfpack. They were heading for the Norsemen who slept, trusting their sword-brothers to warn them of an enemy's approach. Only those Norse were no longer on the earth mound, looking out into the night. They were instead pushing southwards with their English prisoners and the book of Saint Jerome.
My brynja, helmet, sword and shield lay back where I had left them by the fire and I felt helpless in just a tunic, leather jerkin, cloak and trousers, but thankful at least that I had fallen asleep with my boots on. I felt for the All-Father amulet at my throat, seeking its comfort, then shivered again as the first sun rays idled through the forest canopy, gilding the leaves, then touching the damp earth and warming my cheek. I was waiting for the forest to burst, to ignite with the roar of battle as Sigurd's men woke with King Coenwulf's riders amongst them. But then I realized that we had come a long way already and if we heard anything, it would be no more than a distant moan. I offered a prayer to Óðin god of war and Týr who loves battle that my friends still lived, that Svein and Floki and Olaf and Sigurd even now stood over the English dead, drinking the last of Coenwulf's ale in victory.
'You are a worm, Glum,' I said, spitting at his feet. He turned and slammed his fist into my face. I grinned at him, blood spilling from my split lip. 'He doesn't know I'm going to take his other arm and stick it up his arse,' I said in English.
'Not if I get to him first,' Weohstan barked as Thorgils shoved him on, threatening in Norse to feed his tongue to the crows.
'Where are they taking us, Raven?' the monk whimpered in a small voice, but I did not know where, so said nothing, and the only answer the little man got was a dig in the back from Thorleik's spear butt.
It was a warm day now and the forest had thinned so that I could see the sun above the budding boughs, a pale gold disc in a white sky. Sweat ran from my forehead, stinging my cut lip, but Glum gave us no water and we could only watch enviously as the Norsemen gulped from a full skin. Cynethryth was as white as the sky. Her golden hair was lank and the hem of her skirt was tatty and full of thorns.
'Let the girl drink, Glum,' I said, 'or do you fear her as you fear me?' They were foolish words and I knew it. Even onearmed, Glum was a fierce warrior and of course he did not fear me.
'You are only alive because you speak their tongue,' he said, nodding at Weohstan, 'and you may be useful to me.' But perhaps a part of him was wary of my blood-eye and perhaps he still wondered at his jarl's interest in me, for he hesitated, then took the skin from Thorleik and held it to Cynethryth's lips, allowing her to drink. Weohstan must have guessed what I said because he nodded his thanks as the girl quenched her thirst.
'Now, ask the monk if we're nearing his land, Raven,' Glum said, taking the water from Cynethryth and shoving the stopper back in. 'Give me a reason to keep you alive.' The forest broke here, giving way to patches of rough grazing land watched over by copses of elm and ash, and I wondered if we had crossed back into Wessex.