pawed the ground. In a moment it would charge.
Wayland flared up and screamed. The aurochs snorted and swung in its length and galloped away. Wayland vaulted the tree and screamed again. Ahead of him he heard thudding hooves and branches snapping. Behind him Syth loosed a shrill cry.
Without waiting for her to catch up, he darted after the aurochs. He could track their progress from the sound of tearing vegetation. They were well ahead of him, fleeing in an unstoppable panic, and he chased them with the guilty exhilaration of a man who’s started an avalanche.
Gleb returned to the bank and this time six of his men accompanied him. The rest lounged around their fire, but Vallon could tell from their postures that they were waiting for the signal to attack. Gleb stopped about twenty yards away. ‘Come. We’re ready to eat. It’s not much — a stew of pork. Kvas.’
‘I told you. We already ate.’
Gleb’s face flickered annoyance. ‘It’s the custom in my country for strangers who meet on the road to break bread together.’
‘Just say the word,’ Drogo said.
Vallon jerked his head. ‘Keep your weapons hidden for now. Get everyone into the boats.’
Gleb cupped a hand to his ear. ‘Hey, brother, didn’t you hear me? Isn’t the company of Russians good enough for you?’
Vallon played out the pretence. ‘I’m worried that something’s happened to my missing men.’
Gleb went along with the fiction. ‘Ten of them, you said. Enough to protect each other. So forget them and share our meal. By the time we’ve finished, they might have returned. Who knows?’
‘Now I think of it, there must have been a misunderstanding. They’re probably waiting for us downriver.’ A glance to the rear showed that everyone was in the boats. ‘We’d better make haste to join them. I’m sorry to refuse your hospitality.’
Gleb stared at the ground and when he raised his face it had grown sad. ‘But there is a problem. You’ve strayed onto Polotsk territory. Do you have permits to travel through Prince Vseslav’s land?’
Vallon played for time. ‘I carry a safe conduct from Lord Vasili of Novgorod.’
‘Lord Vasili’s letters don’t entitle you to be in this place. I’m surprised he didn’t provide you with a guide.’ He said something in Russian that made his men snigger. He composed his own features into seriousness. ‘The law is clear. A caravan that enters Vseslav’s territory without authorisation is liable to arrest, its goods subject to seizure.’
‘Let’s cut the play-acting,’ Vallon said. ‘It was Vasili who sent you.’
Gleb grinned. ‘And you don’t have ten men hidden in the forest. By Oleg’s count, there are only two, and one of them is a girl.’ He shook his head in mock sorrow. ‘You should have listened to Lord Vasili and sold him the falcons. I’m saving you a wasted journey. You’d never have got past the rapids and the nomads.’
He motioned with his hand and his men rose like a company released from a trance and drew their swords and strung their arrows and advanced.
Vallon drew his own sword and heard steel rasp behind him. ‘I’ll tell you one thing. You won’t live to profit by your treachery.’
‘Get in the boat!’ Drogo shouted.
It was too late. The Russians were only thirty yards away and would catch the boats before they reached deep water.
‘There’s no need to fight,’ said Gleb. ‘Give me the falcons and I’ll let you go on your way.’
Vallon backed to the water’s edge. ‘Hero, be ready to throw the falcons into the river.’
Gleb halted the advance. ‘Don’t be foolish. The falcons are the only thing that can save you.’
Vallon stepped into the river. ‘Cast off.’
As Gleb raised his hand to launch the attack, the dogs began to yelp and tug against their leashes. A horse whickered and tossed its head. Gleb glanced over his shoulder, then looked back at Vallon.
‘The falcons.’
‘Do I look like a fool?’
A shout from one of the Russians cut off Gleb’s answer. The horses had begun to whinny and tread, their ears pinned back and the whites of their eyes showing. The dogs howled and bit each other as they fought to break loose. A deep lowing came from the forest.
‘What in the …?’
Out of the trees streamed a bawling herd of aurochs led by a giant black bull that seemed to fly over the ground. They poured down the meadow, hell-bent on reaching the ford. Gleb shared a last astounded look with Vallon, then shouted an order and sprinted towards the squealing horses.
‘Get rowing!’
Vallon’s boat was clear of the bank when he reached it. Richard and Hero dragged him aboard and he turned to see the aurochs halfway down the meadow and the Russians still struggling to free their terrified horses. Some of them realised that they wouldn’t do it in time and began legging it to safety. Others managed to untie their plunging steeds but found it impossible to mount them. Two men subdued Gleb’s horse long enough for him to climb into the saddle. By then the aurochs were nearly upon them. One Russian stood in their path waving his arms in a doomed attempt to turn the tide. They flattened him like a skittle. Gleb’s horse spun and reared. He whacked it and sawed at the reins, one foot out of the stirrup. The black bull took horse and rider square on, one horn spearing Gleb’s thigh to his mount. It hoisted them clear of the ground and tossed them aside as if they weighed no more than dolls. Vallon saw a man give up on his horse only to dash into the path of a cow that swept him aside and left him lying with his limbs the wrong way round. A half-grown bull stotted down the meadow in a crazy prance and stove in a man’s face with a kick from its hind hooves. Bedlam. Aurochs bellowing, horses screaming, men yelling, dogs yelping.
The old bull hit the river at full gallop, parting the water in two great waves that fanned up like wings. Most of the herd followed his path, but some plunged perilously close to the boats, drenching their occupants with spray.
‘Row for the opposite shore,’ Vallon yelled.
‘What about Wayland?’
‘Don’t you worry about him. He’s the one who whipped up the storm.’
By the time the rowers had settled into a rhythm, some of the Russians had caught up their horses and were riding in pursuit, shooting arrows at a gallop. A few pounded ahead and dismounted at the end of the meadow so they could take surer aim as the boats passed. Every stroke carried the boats further across the river and by the time they drew level with the archers, the lofted arrows dropped short. From here the forest came down to the river and hindered pursuit. Gradually the yells grew faint with distance.
‘Stop rowing,’ Vallon ordered. ‘Blow the horn.’
Three times the notes blared out before the voyagers saw two figures flitting down to the bank. Vallon brought the boat in close and Wayland and Syth waded out and boarded while it was still moving. Their clothes were muddy and torn, their skin scratched by briars and blistered by nettles. They sat side by side, fighting for breath.
‘Where the hell have you been? Why didn’t you come when we blew the first signal?’
‘I didn’t hear it,’ Wayland panted.
‘Didn’t hear it? What were you up to?’
Syth choked off laughter with her fist. Vallon and Hero exchanged looks, only their eyes moving, then simultaneously they reached the same conclusion and stared off as if some distant event had seized their attention.
XL
Vallon scourged them on like galley slaves, the women as well as the men. They lay up overnight in a side- creek and were back at their oars before they’d properly woken. Only the Vikings could sustain the effort. Rowing
