unhappiness. He remembered the rows between his parents and his relief when they made up. He rolled over. ‘It’s not you that puts me out of heart. It’s thinking of what we have to go through.’
‘It’s not only that,’ she said. ‘You’re worried that you’re stuck with me for ever and ever.’ She snuggled close, her breath warm on his cheek. ‘I might get sick of you first.’
Wayland bolted awake. Syth and the dog came tearing out of the sallows.
‘Old Horny’s in the river!’
Wayland grabbed his bow. ‘Old Horny?’
‘Black with horns and cloven feet, big as a house.’
Her eyes were huge and the dog seemed to have been seized by a fit, jaws gnashing, flanks trembling. Excitement not terror. He peered towards the river. Grey trees were beginning to gather out of the dawn. He heard water purling through a shoal.
‘Stay here.’
He strung an arrow and worked towards the bank. Glancing back, he saw Syth creeping behind him with one hand clenched between her teeth. He gestured at her to go back.
She shook her head emphatically.
Wayland reached the edge of the thicket. Twenty yards from the bank stood a diabolical misshape backlit by the paling sky. He’d never seen such a monster. Several different creatures seemed to have gone into its making. Its dewlapped head had a trunk-like snout, jackass ears and a crown of antlers six feet across. A bull’s humped shoulders sloped down to a puny crupper tipped with an apology of a tail. All supported on knobbly legs that looked too spindly to bear its weight. It looked up, masticating slowly. Water dribbled from its muzzle. It breathed a soft snort and lowered its head again. Wayland wormed back to Syth.
‘It’s not the devil,’ he whispered.
‘What is it then?’
‘Some kind of deer.’
‘Old Horny can take any form he chooses. Once when I was in the fen, I saw a flittermouse that-’
Wayland pressed a hand over her mouth and opened his eyes wide in warning.
She nodded and he took his hand away. He raised his bow. Syth clutched at him.
‘You’re not going to kill it.’
‘We’ve nearly finished the horsemeat. A beast that big will feed us for a week. Stay here and don’t make a sound.’
The beast hadn’t moved. There was no wind to carry their scent and the current jostling down the shoal must have smothered their voices. The beast was standing almost head-on to him. Wayland waited for it to present its flank. He could make out the gleam of its eyes. It shifted its position and sighed. A melancholy misfit oppressed by its solitude. Wayland sighted behind the withers. Only a shot to the heart would bring down an animal that size.
He knew he’d hit his mark from the hollow sound the arrow made as it struck. The beast grunted and plunged forward, its hooves throwing up spray. The dog hurled itself into the water.
‘Leave it, fool!’
Wayland drew another arrow and set off along the bank in pursuit. The beast was galloping towards a spit choked with willows and birches. It had almost reached it when it stumbled and sank down on its front knees. The dog whimpered and paddled faster. The beast groaned and regained its feet. It staggered forward and then stopped again, legs splayed, head drooping. Deaf to Wayland’s commands, the dog surged up and sank its jaws into a hind leg, aiming for the hamstring. Spray exploded and the dog went sailing through the air to land fifteen feet away.
‘I told you!’
The beast swung its head towards him. Gouts of blood poured from its mouth. It gave a sorrowing grunt and then it settled on its hindquarters and flopped over.
There was a ringing in Wayland’s ears. The dog swam up to the carcass, apparently uninjured. He puffed out his cheeks and turned. Syth was standing a few feet away, staring in awe. He drew his knife.
‘I’d better check that it’s dead.’
It lay on its side, blood darkening the water around it. He looked into its eye and saw his reflection, growing duller with each passing moment.
The dog was watching him with a sheepish expression. He kicked out at it. ‘You’re lucky it didn’t break your back.’
He dragged the beast into the shallows and tethered it by a line to a tree. Syth walked around it, studying it from all angles, but she wouldn’t come within touching distance.
‘Run back to camp and tell Raul to bring the boat.’
She turned and bounded away, her limbs whirling in the way that always made him smile.
‘Better make that two boats.’
She ran on the spot and then darted off, the dog racing after her. Wayland looked again at the beast and his smile died. He ran a hand through his hair.
The new-risen sun lay like a chalice in a hollow on the horizon. He lay down with his hands behind his head. Above him, birch leaves winked like gold coins. He felt like a murderer.
The sun was shining in his eyes when he woke. He rose yawning and peered towards the Viking camp. The sounds of labour had stopped. The Vikings had dragged the longship out of the water to continue their repairs, and from here it was hidden by the curve of the bay.
He was about to turn away when a jerky movement caught his attention. Up over the trees fringing the bay rose a pale spar. Wayland grimaced. A mast swinging upright.
A creature in the forest gave a pained scream. The cry came again, from further off. He scanned the trees behind him. There were bears and wolves in the forest. He’d seen their spoor.
When he looked across the river again, the dragon ship was gliding out into the bay, its new timbers in bald contrast to the rest of the hull. Oars stroked and then rested. Even if it wasn’t fit to take to the open sea, the Vikings could use it to block the company’s escape. The oars dipped again and the longship reversed back into its lair. After a while the hammering and tapping started up again.
Wayland looked upriver and saw the two boats approaching. When Raul saw the beast he pushed his hat high up his scalded brow.
‘How many arrows did it take?’
‘One. Do you know what it is?’
‘Elk. I’ve seen them on the Baltic coast. Good eating. Smoked, it will keep us fed until we reach Norway.’ He noticed the grouse at the base of the tree. ‘And you’ve got grub for the falcons.’
‘It isn’t enough.’
‘Kill some more tonight.’
Wayland shook his head. ‘The Vikings have repaired the longship. They’ve even made a new mast.’
Raul scanned the enemy shore. ‘A mast ain’t no use without a sail.’
‘It doesn’t matter. They still control the river.’
The company slept on
‘Before you board, some rules. First, all food goes into a common store.’
Voices rose in dissent and a few individuals clutched their bundles to their chests.
‘It’s up to you. Keep your own food, go your own way. Richard’s in charge of the stores and will make sure everybody receives fair shares. You can appoint one of your own people to help him.’
The grumbles subsided.
‘No Icelander is allowed to carry arms on the ship without my permission. Hand over your weapons as you board. They’ll be kept ready for immediate use, but if any man takes up a sword without my say-so, I’ll treat it as
