The Viking’s Touch(47)

 ‘I am come to speak with my sister. Pray go and tell her so.’

 ‘Lady Anwyn is not here.’

 ‘Don’t prevaricate with me. Fetch her at once.’

 ‘I said she isn’t here.’

 ‘Then where the devil is she?’

 He listened in silent and incredulous wrath as Wulfgar gave him the basic substance of what had happened.

 ‘And now you say this Ingvar holds her and my nephew captive?’

 ‘That’s right.’

 ‘If she had allowed herself to be guided by me, this could not have happened,’ said Osric. ‘I would have had her safely married by now, as she should be. I am come to conduct her to her new bridegroom.’

 With an effort Wulfgar controlled himself. ‘The fault was not Lady Anwyn’s; it was mine for not foreseeing the extent of Ingvar’s treachery.’

 ‘You are a loyal fellow. My sister is headstrong and I know it all too well. However, whatever her folly, she is still my sister and I will not permit her to be dishonoured by such a lowly marriage as this. It would disgrace our entire family.’

 Wulfgar put his hands behind his back where they could do no harm. ‘My men and I were about to mount a rescue when you arrived, my lord.’

 ‘You have a plan?’

 ‘Aye.’ Wulfgar glanced towards the host outside the gate. ‘It would not be hindered by the addition of more men.’

 Osric nodded. ‘Very well. What do you want us to do?’





Chapter Twenty-Four

A wagon, driven by two men in dirty peasant garb, stopped outside the gate of the fortress of Beranhold. Its arrival was greeted by a ringing challenge from one of the two guards above.

 ‘Identify yourselves.’

 ‘Ethelwine and Elwy, bringing Lord Ingvar’s mead and ale from the village,’ said the driver.

 The guard glanced at the barrels and then at the two men. ‘Lord Ingvar never said anything about a delivery.’

 ‘It’s for the feast.’

 ‘The feast has already started, Lackwit. You’re too late.’

 That was undeniably true for the sound of raucous laughter drifted towards them on the quiet air.

 ‘Not our fault,’ replied the driver. ‘We had to change a wheel.’

 His companion nodded. ‘That’s right.’

 ‘Well, it makes no odds,’ said the guard. ‘Lord Ingvar doesn’t need you or your ale.’

 The driver smirked. ‘Got enough good cheer, has he?’

 ‘I reckon he has. Anyway, what’s that to you?’

 ‘It’s nothing to me.’

 The guard’s lip curled. ‘Right, so you can clear off then.’

 ‘Please yourself.’ The driver gathered up the reins. ‘If they should run out of ale up there, though, you’ll let Lord Ingvar know we came?’ He paused. ‘Only I don’t fancy being on the receiving end of his temper, see?’

 The guard frowned. Then, as the wagon began to move off, he called out again.

 ‘Wait! Maybe they will need the extra after all.’

 The driver sighed. ‘Make up your mind, will you? We’ve got better things to do than sit about here all night.’

 ‘Aye,’ growled his companion. ‘I’m supposed to be meeting a girl.’

 The guard glared at them. ‘All right. All right. Bring it through.’

 There followed the sounds of heavy footsteps on timber steps and the locking bar being lifted. Then the gate swung slowly open. The wagon drove through and came to a halt on the far side. The driver jerked his head towards the load behind him.

 ‘Where do you want it?’

 ‘Over there, by the storehouse.’ The guard looked at his companion. ‘Stay here. I’ll be back presently.’

 The other nodded and turned away. The wagon lurched on again with its lone escort walking alongside. At his command it came to a halt by the building in question. The two men got down.

 ‘Do you want this stuff put inside, or what?’ asked the driver.

 ‘No, leave it here. It’ll be easier to get at if they need it in the hall.’

 ‘Whatever you say.’

 The two men went to the rear of the vehicle and began to lift the barrels down. The guard watched for a while, frowning.

 ‘Come on, you toe rags, hurry it up, will you? I have to get back to my post.’

 The driver looked huffy. ‘We’d be a sight quicker if you lent a hand.’

 His companion nodded. ‘Aye. Then I could meet my girl.’

 The guard swore softly, but he came to join them nevertheless. As he turned away to reach for a barrel, a large hand closed over his mouth and jerked him backwards. He made a brief muffled choking sound and his eyes widened as Thrand’s blade plunged into his side. Asulf leaned closer and murmured confidentially in the dying man’s ear, ‘You didn’t ought to have called him a toe rag.’

 Thrand smiled grimly and, catching the body before it could fall, dragged it into the shadow by the wall. Then he pulled the knife free and wiped it carefully on the guard’s tunic. Meanwhile, Asulf turned and tapped on the side of the nearest barrel. The lid tilted and was drawn downwards. Wulfgar grabbed the rim of the cask and hauled himself out. Moments later the three of them were joined by Beorn and half-a-dozen others. Wulfgar drew his sword and watched the others follow suit.

 ‘Thrand, Asulf, take the wagon back to the gate and deal with the other guard. Then open for Hermund and the others. The rest of you come with me.’

 They moved like ghosts, flitting from shadow to shadow, checking each building that they came to. However, all were in darkness. They saw no one save a few servants scurrying from the kitchen house to the hall from whence the sound of feasting and laughter continued unabated.

 ‘Quiet, isn’t it?’ murmured Thrand.

 ‘Ingvar thinks us long gone,’ replied Wulfgar. ‘And while he holds Lady Anwyn and Eyvind he believes that he has a stranglehold on Drakensburgh.’

 ‘I can’t wait for the chance to get a stranglehold on Grymar Big Mouth.’

 ‘All in good time. First we must find Eyvind.’

 As each successive area of search drew a blank, Wulfgar’s concern increased and he began to fear that Ingvar might have Eyvind in the hall. If so, the chances of getting the boy out alive were minimal. A hand on his arm drew his attention back and he realised that Beorn was pointing towards an area of open ground ahead. Through the deepening twilight he saw the wooden cage. It looked like the kind of structure that might hold a large animal of some sort. At first glance it appeared to be empty, but then he descried the small form in one corner. Hope leapt.

 ‘Eyvind.’

 Leaving the others to keep watch, he sprinted across to the cage. The child was asleep, exhausted after the trials of the day. Wulfgar’s brow darkened; this was another score to be settled with Ingvar. In the meantime he had to get the boy to safety. However, his heart sank when he reached the door; the latter was fastened with a thick chain and a great iron padlock. Wulfgar tested it, but the hasp didn’t budge. He gritted his teeth. It needed no seer to tell him who had the key or that it would require a battle axe to smash that lock. The only other possibility was to try and force the links of the chain, but he had nothing with which to do it. It was a major setback and one he knew he should have envisaged. He sighed, and with a last glance at the sleeping child, returned to his companions to convey the news. They heard him in stony silence. Then Frodi reached for the pouch on his belt and began to rummage through the contents, finally bringing forth the object he had been seeking.

 ‘Don’t worry, my lord. We’ll have the boy out of there soon enough.’

 The others exchanged bemused glances, but no one argued. The two men returned to the cage and, under Wulfgar’s curious gaze, his companion turned his attention to the lock. Inserting the thin length of metal into the keyhole, he began to manipulate it. For a little while nothing happened. Then there was an audible click. Frodi grinned and seconds later the hasp was undone. Wulfgar let out the breath he had been holding.

 ‘I owe you one, Frodi,’ he murmured.

 He sheathed his sword and loosed the chain, dragging the door open. Moments later he was with Eyvind. Feeling the hand over his mouth, the child started awake and began to struggle but, as he recognised the voice in his ear, gradually grew still, his eyes widening in joyful disbelief. Slowly the hand on his mouth withdrew.

 ‘Have no fear, Eyvind.’

 ‘Father?’

 ‘Did I not promise to come back for you?’

 ‘I knew you would.’

 Wulfgar held him close, relief flooding his veins. Then he bore Eyvind from the cage and, with Frodi, retraced his steps to join the others. The men grinned to see them.

 ‘Get Eyvind out of here,’ said Wulfgar.

 The child clung to him. ‘I want to stay with you.’

 ‘I’m going to fetch your mother so that we can all go home, but I can’t do that unless you go with the others now.’ He smiled. ‘Will you trust me?’