I yelped from fear and pain. He had not let go of the stool, and for a moment we wrestled together, each trying to tug the stool from the other. My initial surge of energy was ebbing rapidly. I would either drop the stool or be forced backward within range of Stupid Face guarding the door.
I shouted again for help, and the cry had scarcely left my throat when there was a great splintering and smashing of wood. The man with his back against the door was propelled head first into the room as someone shoulder-charged the door from the passageway outside, carrying away its hinges.
Ohthere. He burst in, carrying the same heavy stick that he had used to fend off the dogs from the bear cage. He wielded it as a cudgel. Before Stupid Face could recover his balance, Ohthere drove the blunt end of the stick hard into his stomach. The man doubled up with a grunt. Ohthere then stepped across to where I was fending off Pudding Head and brought his stick down with a resounding crack on the hand that held the knife. I made the mistake of letting go the stool, and Pudding Face had the wit to swing it at Ohthere, who failed to duck in time. The edge of the stool caught him on the side of his head and he staggered back. Taking advantage of the moment, both attackers turned and bolted for the door.
I was too exhausted to do more than take jagged gasps of breath and press my hand against my wounded side, feeling blood.
‘How badly are you hurt?’ asked Ohthere.
‘Nothing fatal,’ I managed to answer. Then, dizzy and in shock, I staggered to the stool that lay on the floor, righted it, and sat down. ‘Who were they? They were trying to kill me . . .’
Ohthere was rubbing the side of his head. ‘I’ve no idea. But they’ll have made themselves scarce by now.’
‘Should we report the incident?’
‘There’s no one to report to. The only law in Kaupang is the one you take into your own hands. If you can track them down, you could take revenge. But if they are the jarl’s men, it’s a waste of time. They’ll have his protection.’
I noticed that Ohthere’s clothes were soaking wet. ‘It was lucky you came by, despite the rain. Otherwise I’d have been done for.’
He gave a dismissive shrug. ‘A little damp won’t stop me from calling on Redwald to arrange the final payment for the bears. I heard shouts and recognized your voice.’
‘I got a good look at the two men. Perhaps Redwald knows where to track them down,’ I said.
I got up from the stool and hobbled out of the building, leaning on Ohthere’s arm. The rainstorm had eased as rapidly as it had started. The last few raindrops were flicking down, and the ground outside was muddy slop. Just before we reached the door to Redwald’s office, I turned to Ohthere. ‘Could you find Osric for me? He’s good at dealing with wounds.’
‘Of course. I left him at my place, with Walo.’
While Ohthere squelched off, I paused for a moment to gather my thoughts: Northmen rarely killed those whom they believed to have magical powers. They feared retribution from the Otherworld. If there was a different motive for the attack, someone must have known that I was by myself, sheltering from the rainstorm. Immediately Redwald sprang to mind. The shipmaster, I recalled, had identified to me the same two brutes when they were on guard outside the jeweller’s shop. Redwald’s office was just a few steps away. He could have spoken with the two would-be assassins in the adjacent drinking den to tell them that the moment was right. Redwald already had his hands on what remained of our silver hoard aboard his ship. If he killed me, all that would remain would be to dispose of Osric, perhaps on the voyage back to Dorestad. With us out of the way Redwald could also claim his commission from Carolus’s mews master for bringing back the gyrfalcons, and probably get a reward for obtaining the ice bears as well.
I limped into the shipmaster’s office, alert to his reaction when he saw that I was alive.
Redwald was seated alone at his changing table, leaning forward and concentrating, and he ignored my arrival. He was placing matching weights into the two pans of his moneyer’s weighing scales to check the balance. When he looked up and saw blood on my shirt, he made a sucking sound through his teeth.
‘What happened to you?’ he asked as I sank down on a bench facing him.
I told him of the unprovoked assault and described the two men. ‘I think they were previously guards for the dealer in precious stones, the man who had his premises a little way along the street.’
I watched him closely for signs of guilt but he only tugged at an earlobe as he considered his reply. ‘You could well be right.’
‘Do you know anything about the dealer?’