Bjarki sniggered, hovering by the door and the irritated guard shoved him back, so that he staggered and almost fell; one hand flew to the dagger at his belt and the guard, ringmailed and helmed and armed with a great stave of spear looked inquiringly at him, then laughed when Bjarki saw what he was about to do and took his hand away.
‘You are not as welcome here as you make it seem, little bear,’ Finn said with a dry laugh. One of the men who had followed Styrbjorn into the room, bald-headed and stubbled on a sharp chin, spat at him then, which narrowed Finn’s eyes.
‘Your welcome is worse,’ Stubble-Chin said. ‘This Styrbjorn killed Pall, which is red murder. No matter what happens, he will swing in a cage for it.’
‘Which one are you?’ asked Crowbone. ‘Freystein? I did not ever hear the name of the fourth man.’
‘I am Freystein,’ said the second man and jerked a thumb at the bald-headed one. ‘He is Thorstein, Pall’s brother.’
‘Ah,’ said Finn knowingly. ‘Same litter — I thought I saw it, but was not sure. All rats look the same to me.’
The door opened again and the Saxlander guards straightened a little as Kasperick came in, lifting the trailing hem of his robe from the floor of the place. He surveyed the scene with a satisfied smile and moved to the table where our possessions had been left, lifting Crowbone’s sword admiringly.
‘A fine and cunning weapon,’ he said, drawing it out and swinging it once or twice. ‘A little light, but perfect for a boy.’
Then he drew mine, which was Jarl Brand’s and he smiled like a cream-fed cat over that one. Then there was Styrbjorn’s; the silk wrapping was gone. When he drew The Godi, Finn growled, hackled like a hound on a boar scent.
‘Four swords of price,’ he declared. ‘Not a bad day — you three can take the rest of their possessions as reward. Get out.’
Bjarki and the others blinked and Bjarki looked as if he would argue, but the two huge guards leaned forward a little and the three of them left, summoning up as much swagger as they could, which was not much.
‘They expected more,’ I said, ‘for whispering in your ear about the Mazur girl.’
Kasperick waved a languid hand. ‘They are little yaps, from that large dog Pallig Tokeson. One day, we will deal with Pallig, but his little pups are useful and of small account to me when they have barked. To each other, too, I am thinking — the death of Pall will not concern them much, save that they can now split the reward I gave them into thirds instead of fourths.’
He settled his rump on the edge of the table and looked us over.
‘You will send word to release the Mazur girl,’ he declared. ‘In return, I will release all of you — except the one they call Styrbjorn, for he is guilty of murder.’
‘Styrbjorn? What does one of Pallig’s little yappers matter to you?’ I countered and he nodded, a nasty smile on his face.
‘Nothing,’ he agreed, ‘save that justice must be seen to be done — anyway, I have gone to all the trouble of lighting a brazier and started heating up instruments. I will not have all my enjoyment removed.’
The threat was plain enough and he saw it had hit home as he slid his arse off the table.
‘You have until first light to think,’ he added flatly. Then he swept out, followed by the two guards; the door banged shut behind them, leaving us alone in the fetid half-dark.
‘One who sees a friend roasting on a spit tells all he knows,’ Red Njal noted. ‘My granny said so and it remains true.’
‘Spit-luck for us, then, that Styrbjorn is a few wrist-clasps short of a friend to any of us,’ Finn answered and prodded the luckless subject with one toe. Styrbjorn groaned and Red Njal bent briefly to look at him.
‘Lump like a gull’s egg and a bruise, nothing much more,’ he growled, straightening. Finn took the pisspot and emptied the contents on Styrbjorn, who surfaced, wheezing and blowing.
‘Better?’ Finn inquired as Styrbjorn blinked into the Now of it all. The enormity of where he was crashed on him like creaming surf and he subsided.
‘I thought it was a dream,’ he groaned.
‘If it is,’ Red Njal told him, ‘dream me out of it.’
‘No dream,’ I told him harshly. ‘What did you do to Pall?’
Styrbjorn shifted, rolled over and sat up slowly, like a sobering drunk after a feast. He touched the lump on his forehead and winced.
‘Pall made straight for his three friends,’ Styrbjorn explained. ‘We just looked for the cheapest, noisiest drinking place in the settlement and, sure enough, there they were, having already poured Pallig’s poison in the ear of this Kasperick about us. Pall told them of the value of the Mazur girl, said we should tell Kasperick and he would surely reward us.’
‘I said he was a rat and that releasing him was a bad idea. And you went with them,’ Finn growled meaningfully. Styrbjorn held his head and groaned.
‘Aye, well, I was not all that welcome there, since they blamed me for much that had happened, especially the one called Bjarki — silly name for a grown man, is it not?’
No-one argued with that, so he sat up a little more and then began sniffing suspiciously at the damp on him.
‘The other three went off, saying that Pall and me should watch the ship — what did you just pour on me, Finn Horsehead?’
‘Healing balm,’ I said, wanting him to keep to the sharp of his tale. ‘What happened then?’
He blinked and made himself more comfortable, closing his eyes. I remembered a time when I had taken a dunt to the head and almost felt sorry for him. Almost.
‘Then we waited in the rain for a while,’ Styrbjorn went on after a moment. ‘We saw the crew coming back, not all at once, but in ones and twos and seeming to be easy and light about it until they were aboard. Pall said the ship was getting ready to leave, which was clear to any sailing man; he said he was off to warn Bjarki that the prize was slipping away.’
He paused and frowned, then sniffed again.
‘This is piss,’ he declared accusingly.
‘What happened?’ I snarled and he raised an eyebrow at me, then shrugged, which act made him wince. This time I felt no sympathy.
‘I thought it best not to let him,’ he said. ‘So I slit his throat and dropped him in the river.’
‘Heya,’ growled Finn admiringly and Styrbjorn smiled. I looked at the youth with some new and grudging respect; he had decided to save us and killed a man without so much as a blink — yet it was a throat-cut in the dark.
I was thinking that was what kept Styrbjorn from being the hero-king he wanted to be. He could kill, right enough, but would rather be sleekit about it than face a man in a fair fight; even his saving of me was a stab to my enemy’s back.
Nor had he been sleekit enough about the killing of Pall, either, since he got caught.
‘Aye,’ he agreed wryly when I pointed this last fact out to him. ‘I was making for the ship, for it was now the safest place for me to be after dropping the little turd in the water, when Bjarki and the others turned up with some armed men. They grabbed me and Bjarki asked where Pall was, so the whole matter came out in the open soon after.’
He paused, defiantly.
‘If it had not been for them being so bothered with me,’ he added, ‘the ship might not have pulled safely away at all.’
I let him think it, even if I doubted it to be true. Not that any of that helped us here, as I whispered to Finn, drawing him a little apart from the others.
‘Aye,’ he answered, then grinned. ‘Though there may yet be a way out of this cage. Best if we wait for dark. Best also if I keep it to myself, just in case this Kasperick grows impatient for spit-roasts and questioning.’
The thought that he had a plan when I did not was nagging enough, but the idea that he did not want to share it made matters worse. As the faint light from the barred squares in the wall faded we sat in silence; I did not know what the others were thinking, but home swam up in the maelstrom of my thoughts.
