After supper Ulf guided them to the byre. Vallon fell unconscious to the ruminations of cattle and the soft clucking of poultry. At some incalculable hour, he was woken by one of the brothers whispering in the doorway. He heard Wayland step over the sleeping figures and go out with his bow, the dog padding at his heels. Vallon shrugged and went back to sleep.
He spent the morning keeping watch, while Raul helped Hakon repair the stone wall. Hero stayed indoors giving Richard a writing lesson. Wayland and Ulf returned in the late morning with a brace of blackcock they’d shot at their lekking ground and a brown hare the dog had coursed and killed. They swung them on to the polished slate and everyone gathered round to admire the still life.
That night they dined on civet of game spiced with juniper and wild thyme. The brothers brought out a barrel of ale and the mood turned festive. The girl sat on Raul’s knee and watched him make a coin vanish from his hand and reappear behind his ear. No matter how many times he performed the trick, she wanted to see it again.
‘We should be observing the Lent fast,’ Richard said.
Raul drained his cup and banged it down. ‘I’ve done enough penance these last few days to purge my soul for a lifetime.’
Vallon rapped on the table. All eyes turned to him. Raul set the girl down.
‘There’s not much to say. We’ve left ourselves so open to the mercy of events that I can’t predict what tomorrow will bring, let alone next week. Our first goal is to reach a moneylender. I won’t tell you where he conducts his business in case any of you are captured. If we negotiate that hurdle, I intend leading a voyage to Norway in search of gyrfalcons. The falcons will be carried through Rus to Anatolia. We might make a profit on the enterprise. If we do, each of you will receive a share. Don’t get too excited, Raul. If there’s one thing I’m sure of, it’s that not everyone who begins the journey will end it. That’s all you need to know for now.’
Hero sunk his head. Wayland stared ahead as though thinking about something else. Raul grinned and raised his cup. ‘Fortune or a grave!’
‘A grave is the most likely outcome. Riders will be carrying our descriptions to every garrison in the north.’ Vallon’s eyes panned around the company. ‘Let’s face it, we’re not difficult to recognise. Ulf has offered to guide us tomorrow. In a day or two we’ll reach more populated country. If necessary, we’ll travel at night. Once we reach the lowlands and have to follow highways, we’ll split up. Wayland and Raul will scout ahead and search for refuges where we can eat and sleep. Richard and Hero will travel with me. We’ll meet up each evening.’
In the dead of night Vallon was still awake, his mind as restless as the mice rustling in the straw around him. Hero couldn’t sleep either. A blood-curdling shriek brought him upright with a gasp. A ghostly white shape wafted off the beam above and flitted through a slit in the gable. Hero crossed himself.
‘Only an owl,’ Vallon said.
‘A bird of ill omen.’
‘You’d better tell me what’s gnawing you.’
‘Sir, do you really intend to command an expedition to Norway?’
‘I thought that was it.’
‘Forgive me, sir. It’s just that, after all we’ve been through, to undertake a new and even more dangerous journey seems perverse.’
‘Not as perverse as all that. When our paths first crossed, I was on my way to Constantinople. That’s still my destination. The falcons will lead me there by a different route.’
‘But Rus is so dangerous. Cosmas told me that it’s descended into anarchy. Then there are the nomads on the southern steppe. Do you know what they did to a Russian prince who fell into their hands?’
‘Killed him — slowly, I imagine.’
‘And then turned his skull into a drinking cup.’
‘Hero, I’m still subject to arrest in France. I’d rather face a few savages than risk a third crossing of my homeland.’
‘There’s no need to return through France.’
Vallon had an inkling of what was coming. ‘Oh?’
‘You don’t owe anything to Olbec’s family. Quite the reverse. We travelled all that way on Walter’s behalf, and how did they reward us? Not only did Drogo try to kill us, but Olbec was ready to see us depart without a penny.’
‘You’re saying that I should steal the money intended for the expedition.’
‘It would be no more than just payment for the services you’ve rendered.’
‘So you think I should leave Walter to rot.’
‘Your very words, sir, when you discovered that he’d lied about his family’s wealth.’
‘I’d have lied if I’d been in his position.’
‘With respect, I don’t believe you would.’
Vallon rounded on him. ‘You know nothing about life’s harsh turns. You don’t know what it’s like to be a prisoner. You don’t know how it feels to see the weeks turning into months, not knowing if you’ll ever see home again.’
‘You, sir? A prisoner.’
Vallon fell back. ‘Fortunes of war. Now go to sleep. It will be light soon and we’ve got a long day ahead.’
Hero settled in the straw. Vallon knew what was troubling him. They’d been travelling for nearly half a year, yet the real journey had hardly begun.
‘You must miss home.’
‘Not as much as I miss the medical school. What about you, sir? Tonight is the first time I’ve heard you speak about home.’
‘I don’t have a home. I’m an outlaw.’
‘Yes, I know. But before that.’
‘There’s no before.’
Vallon stared through the darkness, remembering a sad song about an exiled knight turning for one last look at home and seeing open doors and gates without locks, windows without faces, the hall stripped of cloaks and mantles, the mews and stables empty, the horses gone, the falcons flown away.
He sighed. There was no going back. No matter how far he travelled, the road would always be leading him away.
‘Sir, you sound heavy of heart.’
‘Indigestion. I supped too well.’
Time passed. Vallon may even have dozed. ‘Do you remember your master’s last words?’
‘About you being sent to show me the way?’
Vallon lifted himself on to one elbow. ‘Did he really say that?’
‘He said it, sir.’
Vallon subsided again. ‘It wasn’t that. It was what he said before — something about the mystery of the rivers.’
‘Rivers with no known beginnings or endings. There was a river in Asia that he’d always wanted to follow — a river that leads into a fabulous land. Actually, sir, I’ve been meaning to confess something that-’
But Vallon was lost in his own thoughts. ‘I’ve been thinking about it. There’s no mystery about rivers. They’re born in the mountains, issuing from a spring as a baby emerges from the womb. They begin life boisterous, dashing about with ceaseless energy but no purpose. Gradually they become deeper and steadier. They grow broad and stately and proud. Next they turn sluggish and become confused, sometimes wandering off into backwaters. Finally, they lose their strength and merge into the sea.’
IX
Four days later the hills petered out. From the last outlier, Vallon, Hero and Richard stood looking south over a great forest still clad in its winter coat. Strands of smoke rose in places from the canopy.
