knew what he meant; it was like crawling through a tunnel and feeling the weight of the rock press on you. After the dream, the whole world seemed skittish and hair-raising with strangeness.
The one camel and the last mule were packed, the latter uneasy with the smell of blood from its late partner, whose wrapped head Kvasir swung over his shoulder, though I thought at the time it would be poor eating. We filed down from the Church of Aaron's Tomb and, at the foot of the hill, the men assembled.
I looked at them, stepping back a little in my head, that ability Einar had prized so much.
They were built like huge oxen, with muscled shoulders and broad chests, giants in a land of small men.
They had a wild tangle of bleached hair, beards that hung halfway to their chests and faces and forearms reddened by the sun. Their boots flapped, their tunics were ragged and almost all the same colour now, and their shields were scarred and battered — but they held axes and spears with sweat-oiled shafts and sharpened edges, their ring-coats were carefully rolled and stowed and helmets swung from tunic belts on firm leather fastenings.
They were grim as an edge, with eyes like pale stone in the blue dark before morning.
I knew what to say. I pointed south, beyond the dusty, moon-washed fields and the huddled town and told them how that was the way home. I reminded them of what Starkad had done to us and to our comrades.
I reminded them of the reward for disposing of the dead-eating brigands and hinted that even more plunder might be had there. I reminded them we were here to fulfil our oath to our oarmates, even if most of us had never seen them.
After all that, into the silence of their indifference, I spoke with Einar's voice. 'We are sworn one to another,' I said.
`There are other
There were heyas and some sharp intakes at this, for this was strong stuff; that particular insult, to accuse a man of behaving like a woman every ninth night, was so bad it was forbidden by law in Iceland and other parts. I had heard it from old Wryneck once, who had died at Atil's howe, and thanked him for it now.
Our fame will be brighter still after this,' I said. 'In winter halls from now until Ragnarok, they will sing of Botolf's hair, Finn Horsehead and the mighty Godi, the gold-browed wit of Kleggi.'
And Kvasir One Eye's shame pole,' Kvasir said into the pause I took. He unwrapped the mule head and stuck it on the spear with the runemarked shaft, then drove the whole thing into a cleft in the rocks, turning the head to point towards Jerusalem. I said nothing, for only something momentous would have forced Kvasir to interrupt his jarl in mid-speech.
I set up this shame pole and turn this shame against Jorsaland and the guardian spirits who inhabit this land, so that they shall go astray, unable to detect or discover their dwellings, showering discord on this land until every person in it comes to the true gods of the Aesir and Vanir.'
He raised both hands and spread them. 'I say further and now that, though I was prime-signed a Christ- follower by Brother John, it was a mistake on my part, for if the Christ-god refuses even to save his own priests, what use is he to me? I say here that I am of the gods of the Aesir and the Vanir, and that I will honour the Disir, my hearth-gods, from now until my end and will not be turned from them again.
Now I promise that I owe them many sacrifice-deaths in payment for my lapse and shall fulfil my bargain.'
This was powerful stuff and, taken with all else, ran a stir through the rest of the Oathsworn, like a breeze ruffling dust. Shoulders went back, heads came up, hands went to hilts and, like a pack of wolves scenting blood, they growled in the backs of their throats.
They wanted riches, fame and the favour of the gods — as we all did — and I knew I had them with me then, though the way of it left me sickening. This jarl business was, in the end, like sucking silver — it seems as if something so prized would be sweeter, but it is always just a foul taste of metal in the mouth.
The same taste as blood.
We moved off into the darkness and on to the unknown, Oathsworn still.
15
Out of dust thick as gruel the rabble army spilled down the road, all rags and weathered, wary looks, darting this way and that, looking for fruit or roots, flowers and dung chips. The flies followed them, heavy with blood.
They washed up to us, broke like water round a stone and then milled in a confusion of fear, backing out of swinging range. Those dull-eyed children who had the energy to try and beg from us were grabbed by their sunken-eyed mothers and dragged back. They had fled their homes and the peace they had known and their god, it seemed, had turned his back on them.
About two hundred or so,' Gardi said, sitting down to inspect the ruin of his bare feet. He had run in from scouting and where he had stood was spotted with fresh blood.
`Where from?'
Gardi jerked his head in the general direction of south and shrugged. 'About half a day away, no more. It seems this Black-hearted One attacked and they fled.'
Two hundred villagers, about a third of them men. These brigands were growing in number and boldness if they could attack a village of that size and win.
A figure pushed through the throng, which was beginning to sink down and wail like a pack of anxious cats. He walked with a staff, his robes were ragged and stained with dust, his beard matted and he stopped in front of us and looked at us with mournful olive eyes in a long, sunken-cheeked face. Then he bowed and greeted us in Arabic and looked surprised when a half-dozen sun-blasted foreigners with faces like slapped arses gave the formal response.
He gabbled out a fresh stream, of which I understood something about us finishing them off, for they had no weapons and it was the will of Allah. The Goat Boy nodded and smiled and soothed him with soft hand movements.
`He thinks we are part of the brigands, though he has hope since we have not yet fallen on them and killed them all,' said the Goat Boy. 'His name is Ahmad, which means Most Praiseworthy, and he is the leader of these people, who are all from the town of Tekoa, which lies under the Cliff of Ziz.'
`Talkative, isn't he?' growled Kvasir.
`Shifting himself,' noted Finn, then squinted at me. 'What do you think, Trader?'
What I thought was that we were short of water and food and far too far away from where the sun sparkled on water and gulls chuckled for the joy of it. What I thought was that two men had been left with the monks on Aaron's hill, with faces the colour of straw and their lives leaking in stinking dribbles down their legs. What I thought was that they were the first of many.
That's what I thought. What I said was to the Goat Boy, to ask this village elder about Martin and Starkad and any other sightings of wild
The Goat Boy gabbled and then Ahmad gabbled and the Goat Boy grew excited and the gabbling got faster until, suddenly, the Goat Boy whirled to me, his thin, brown body trembling, his arms waving like leather thongs in a breeze.
`There is a Roman church in Ahmad's village, an old ruin,' he told us. 'A Christ monk is there, not a Greek one, but one like those from the Church of Aaron. And there were other
`Well,' said Finn at the end of all this. He ruffled dust from the Goat Boy's beaming head and, dropping his pack, began undoing leather thongs so that the mail shirt unrolled with a soft shink of sound. 'Time for battle-gear,
