Blood Eye(74)

'You'll give the book to Lord Ealdred in return for the silver he promised Sigurd,' I said to Glum. I knew that only the promise of great riches could have bought these men's betrayal, but I still wanted to hear it from Glum's own mouth.





'Sigurd owes me, boy,' he said, holding up his leather-bound stump. 'Bastard owes me.'





'Then where, Glum? You think Ealdred will let you stay in his land? Blood-letting heathens like you? So where will you go? You don't have the men to row Fjord-Elk back across the sea.'





'I'll buy men,' Glum said, sweeping the stub through the air, 'or pay for passage on another ship. I don't care which.'





'Sigurd will follow you to the world's edge,' I said, dragging my bound arms across my sweaty face. 'The gods favour him.' I looked at Thorleik and Thorgils, hoping at least to plant the seed of doubt in their minds. 'He will find you. All of you. You know it.'





'He'll find a hundred warriors eager to greet him,' Glum snarled, nodding at his kinsmen to bolster their resolve, 'a hundred Sword-Norse who call me jarl. I'll have the silver to buy them,' he grimaced, 'and they will find me a more generous lord than Sigurd the Lucky.' He spat the last words. 'Ha! He's probably dead anyway, belly-speared in his sleep by some Mercian whelp. Now ask the monk where we are.'





I glared at him. 'You believe Sigurd the kind of man to die in his sleep, Glum? You think that's what the Norns have woven for him?'





He hit me again and it hurt. Then he stretched his neck awkwardly. 'Ask the monk where we are, Raven,' he said, scratching at his beard, 'and perhaps I'll make you rich enough to lead your own war band.'





I turned to Egfrith who was watching us intently, his face pale with exertion and fear as he mumbled prayers to his god.





'Where are we, Father?' I asked, deciding to make myself more useful to Glum alive than dead. I nodded to the monk that he should answer truthfully for all our sakes.





He continued his murmuring for a moment, then sniffed loudly, dragging his sleeve beneath his long nose. 'Tomorrow we'll cross the Severn again,' he said, raising his bushy eyebrows, 'then it won't be long before we come across Lord Ealdred's scouts. Or rather they come across us. If the Welsh don't find us first.' He sniffed again.





I translated Egfrith's words and Glum nodded. 'Who are these Welsh?' he asked casually.





'They are heathens, Glum,' I said, and he nodded approvingly, 'but that won't stop them hurling their spears at us. They are raiders from the west. They steal cattle and they kill Englishmen.'





'I like the sound of these Welshmen,' Glum said, smiling at Thorleik. Then the Norseman stepped forward and cut through the rope binding the monk's hands.





'Thank the good Lord!' Egfrith exclaimed, rubbing his chafed wrists. Glum turned and looked into my eyes, then swung back round, slicing his sword into the monk's head. Egfrith's legs collapsed and he dropped like a stone. Cynethryth screamed and I saw that her face was spattered with his blood.





'This Christ slave's blood is shed in your honour, Óðin,' Glum said, closing his eyes and turning his face to the sky, the sword dripping. I recognized relief in his face because he no longer feared the spells Egfrith might have cast at him. Cynethryth was trembling. Weohstan grimaced and made the sign of the cross with his tied hands. 'Thorgils, get the book,' Glum commanded. He moved to wipe the gore-slick blade on Egfrith's habit, then thought better of it, sheathing the sword unclean. Then he pulled his sleek beard through his fist and examined his hand. The palm was red with Egfrith's blood and he seemed surprised. 'What are you waiting for, man?' he barked at Thorgils. 'The book! Don't piss yourself, the priest can't use his magic on you now.' He bent and wiped his bloodied hand on a dark crown of curled dock leaves.





But Thorgils still hesitated, his blue eyes shrouded beneath a heavy brow. 'Make the Englishman carry the book,' he said, looking up at Weohstan. 'Or her,' he said, turning to Cynethryth, suspicion narrowing his eyes.





'When did your balls fall off, Thorgils?' Glum asked, then he stepped forward and picked up the leather sack containing the book. He roughly slung the sack across Cynethryth's shoulder and smeared the remaining blood from his hand across the tunic over her breasts. 'If anything happens to it,' he said, drawing his knife and holding it to the girl's stomach, 'I'll slit you open like a fish.' I was proud of the girl then because although she could not understand him, I saw baleful hate in those green eyes, and I knew she would have plunged the knife into his heart if she could.





The flies were gathering on Egfrith's face as we set off again leaving him for the creatures of the forest, and I wondered what the Christian god would do to us for killing one of his servants. Then we turned to a sound that can chill a man to his bones. It is a forlorn sound, though I have come to love it. 'Aaarrck! Kaah! Kaah!' A great raven sidled and hopped on to the monk's face where it croaked again three times. The Norsemen grinned like wolves as Óðin's black corpse-reaper accepted their offering.