Wolfsangel

Adisla stood.

‘I’m afraid it’s a bit more complicated than that,’ she said. ‘I will not marry you, but I’ll stay here and protect you for the night, so you’ll come to no harm until the great harm that awaits you on the full moon. And I shall sing to you.’

And Adisla did sing, not in the discordant way she had used to torment her captors, but as she could, clear and high, a song about a farmer’s boy who risked his life for the love of a princess, and was killed by her brothers as he slept next to his beloved.

‘Do your people allow women to sing such things?’ said the wolfman when she was finished.

‘No,’ said Adisla, ‘but there are none here to hear it. And I am not an enchantress, as you are not a sorcerer.’ She looked down at the cup in her hands. ‘There’s no one here to bewitch anyway, even if we were.’ And then she sat with him and watched the moon climb in the sky.

18

The Raid

Vali woke with a jolt as if on a beaching ship. At first he wondered where he was and then he remembered — Forkbeard’s hall. He had a thick tongue and a thicker head. He needed desperately to puke. He looked around him. Everywhere people were slumped at the benches, some with drinks still in their hands. He wanted to piss, to be sick, to do everything to get rid of the tight humming feeling in his head.

‘Ale, boss?’ said Bragi, proffering him a horn. The man was still awake, still drinking, despite the fact that everyone around him had collapsed.

‘I’ll take my next one in Valhalla,’ said Vali. Just looking at the drink made him want to be ill. He staggered outside the hall and down to the moorings, where he did what he had to do.

It was hot. The sun was high and felt like it was boiling his head. He had to get cooler so he waded deep into the water and then just lay back. The cold seemed to restore him and by the time he came out of the sea he felt better. He looked around. No one. He went to the well, drew up the bucket and poured it over himself, drinking as he did so. He glanced over to the wolfman. Someone had spread a cloth over him to protect him from the sun. Who would have done that? There was someone sleeping on the ground behind him, almost completely wrapped up in a cloak. Vali’s eyes were full of sleep and moisture, and he could neither make them focus nor force his befouled brain think about anything beyond his thirst.

He took another drink and looked out to sea. On the horizon he saw a smudge of grey in the sky. At first he didn’t recognise it for what it was. He rubbed his eyes. He was hungry and thought he’d return to the hall to see if there were any leftovers from the night before.

And then it dawned on him. That smudge was smoke. It was the fire on a ship. Longships carried rock ballast for stability, and it was possible to cook on top of it. Someone, just over the horizon, was cooking something. Why cook so close to land? Merchants could be in the village in no time, where they could ingratiate themselves with their hosts by buying food, along with the ale to wash it down. Then he remembered the raid on the abbey. Berserks cooked before they went into battle, stewing up their herbs and their frenzying mushrooms.

‘Don’t be silly,’ he told himself.

Then the truth of the situation struck him like a fist. Of course! It was an attack.

Forkbeard had gone to the regional assembly, taking sixty of his best fighting men with him. If any enemy had discovered that then they would know the Rygir village was virtually undefended. Who was left? Farmers, old warriors, women and children. What better time to attack?

It all fell into place. That was why Vali had been called away. His mother hadn’t wanted him there when the raid took place. Why hadn’t his mother sent aid? Because Authun was mad but still in command. She could buy grain, marry her daughters and send for her son, but the White Wolf’s warriors moved only for him while he was alive. Without Authun to lead the Horda, she couldn’t act to help friends or strike enemies. And hadn’t Vali’s sister Dalla married the Dane Ingwar? That had happened because the Horda were powerless — they needed marriage alliances to protect them. As long as no one knew of Authun’s illness the Danish kings would gladly offer their sons — they thought they were buying protection. In fact, they had been deceived into offering it. But why hadn’t Yrsa sent word to Forkbeard? Because she feared Vali would not marry his daughter. His message saying that he would refuse to marry Ragna had reached the Horda court. If Yrsa could not be sure that Vali would go through with the marriage then she might fear the treaty with the Rygir would fail. The queen wanted to keep her neighbours occupied with another enemy. So why had the Rygir been left unwarned? Because, in a moment of stupidity, Vali had said he would not do his duty. He had visited this calamity on the Rygir and he felt ashamed for it.

Vali ran into the hall.

‘Get up, get up! The enemy is here. Get up, get up!’ he shouted.

There were still some coals burning in the fire. He scooped several onto a bread plate, gathered some straw from the floor and ran out to the beacon, which seemed to take an age to light.

‘Hurry up, hurry up! Get your arms and shields, we’ve got a fight on!’

Bragi strolled out like a man surveying his land on a fine morning.‘What, lord?’

‘Look, the horizon — smoke. It’s warships, I know it.’

‘That or a trader cooking up some mackerel,’ said Bragi. He was calm.

‘He’s either coming here, in which case he’d eat here, or he’s going past, in which case he’d never risk alerting our ships. When have you seen smoke like that before?’

‘Not here, but-’

‘Who am I?’

‘Vali, prince of the sword-Horda,’ said Bragi.

‘Whose son am I?’

‘Authun, lord of battle.’

‘Then respect me and call to arms. Call to arms!’

Bragi shrugged but took a horn from his belt. One of the endearing things about the old warrior was that he was almost permanently dressed for a fight. He even carried his helmet with him much of the time, though he drew the line at wearing his byrnie. He had been known to take his shield if he wasn’t going far, however.

Bragi blew three blasts on his horn, then walked into the hall and started rousing the men. At first few believed him and thought it a prank but, urged on by Vali, they stumbled outside and saw the beacon burning. That was never lit as a joke. Up on the hill another one answered it. Behind that, they knew, would be others, calling the men of the farms down to defend the shore.

Vali looked at what he had. Forty men, or rather boys and grandfathers, some still half drunk. He shouted and kicked at them to arm themselves. Hungover and red-faced, they opened chests in the hall, taking out weapons, padded jackets, a couple of byrnies and helmets. Shields and spears were found in a separate storeroom. Men stumbled and tripped as they pulled on their gear, clattered into each other as they reached for the weapons.

‘Sails!’ shouted Bragi from outside. Despite being clearly very drunk, the old man had his byrnie on and had taken up two spears, one stout and long, the other shorter and thinner, for throwing.

Vali didn’t bother putting on a byrnie, though he had a right to one. He grabbed a seax, a shield and a helmet, and gave them all to Bragi.

‘Shield wall at the top of the hill, the Hogsback, on the cart track at the side of the copse,’ he said. ‘They won’t get round the back of us through the wood, not in a hurry anyway. Have these for me there behind it. Put five archers in the woods and tell them not to fire until I give the order. Nothing as the enemy advance. Nothing, do you understand?’

‘Yes, lord, but will they come to the top of the hill? Surely they’ll plunder here and be gone.’

‘They have berserks aboard. They’ll come,’ said Vali. ‘I’ll ensure it. Our only chance is to fight them there. Get to the hill and set your wall, though be ready to receive me — I’ll be coming through it at speed.’

Bragi had been amazed when Vali appeared with the wolfman. He was even more amazed at the transformation in him now.

Hogni and Orri appeared from the hall.