lookout. You and Wayland will take turns keeping watch.’
With the onset of night, it had grown chilly. A keen easterly rattled the reeds. Raul placed another piece of driftwood on the fire. The company watched the flames flatten and twist in the wind. Hero gave a shiver that had nothing to do with the cold.
‘Someone walk over your grave?’
‘I was thinking about the voyage. Days and days out of sight of land.’
Raul gnawed on a bone. ‘It ain’t too bad once you get over the puking.’
Vallon stirred the fire with a stick. Sparks flew down the wind. ‘Where did you do your sailing?’
‘On a Baltic slaver.’
‘Did you ever land in Rus?’
‘We raided the coast a few times. It’s a heathen race dwells on that shore. Skin you alive if they get a chance.’
Richard straightened up in indignation. ‘Heathens or not, slaving’s an unholy occupation.’
Raul looked up from under half-lidded eyes. ‘Maybe, but it pays well.’ He waved the bone in Vallon’s direction. ‘Speaking of which, you ain’t said what wages we’re drawing.’
‘We’ll have to husband the money if we’re going to charter another ship and buy trade goods.’ Vallon saw Raul’s face cloud. ‘Whatever profit we make, you and Wayland will receive a tenth.’
Raul choked on his food. ‘You’re saying you’ll give me and Wayland a tenth.’
‘Each. Since you’re sharing the risks, you deserve a fair share of the rewards.’
Raul pulled an astonished face at Wayland.
‘How come you gave it up?’ the falconer asked him.
‘Gave what up?’
‘Slaving.’
Raul tossed the bone into the fire. ‘I was shipwrecked. That’s how come.’
Snorri left at dawn, saying he’d be back within three days. Vallon and Hero began cutting withies and rushes for lean-to’s, while Wayland started scything the reeds along the channel. Mid-morning, four fen men rowed to the island towing two boats loaded with water kegs and firewood. The men climbed out carrying spades, billhooks and mattocks. They grinned shyly, not quite meeting anyone’s eye, and seemed undismayed by the backbreaking task Vallon set them.
At noon Wayland took one of the spare boats and set off through the marsh to relieve Raul. He found the German whittling a knife handle in the marram grass by the creek.
Wayland shared out bread and cheese. Raul peeled an onion and ate it as if it were an apple. The first swallows were back, cutting tangents across the water. A column of cormorants straggled north against a cloudbank massed on the horizon. The wind blew fresh from the east but the clouds never came any nearer.
‘Iceland,’ Raul said. ‘Long way to go for a few falcons.’
‘White ones that only kings and emperors are allowed to fly.’
‘I’ll believe it when I see one.’
Raul raised his crossbow and took casual aim at a seal basking in the shallows. Wayland put a hand on the bow. Raul lowered the weapon. ‘If you make it to Miklagard, what will you do with your share?’
Wayland shrugged. Wealth meant nothing to him. In the forest his family had lived as well as any lord. Everything they needed could be had for free or obtained by barter.
‘You could do worse than join the Varangians, like Vallon.’
‘Varangians?’
‘Imperial guard. Used to be all Vikings, but since the Normans invaded, a lot of Englishmen have taken service with them. Not just common folk. There’s thanes and even an earl or two. Once you’ve served your time, the emperor gives you a decent holding of land.’
‘Is that what you intend to do?’
‘Not me. I’ve done enough warring. I’ve got it all worked out. I’m going to open a tavern, take a wife — maybe a slave girl from Rus. I’ll buy my family out of bondage and set them up with land and herring boats.’
‘How many close kin do you have?’
‘Father died in the flood that took our farm. Mother lived only a few months longer. When I left home, I had three younger brothers and three older sisters. That was eight years ago, so I suppose a few will have gone to their graves. I can’t wait to see their faces when I show up. What a feast I’ll throw.’
Wayland had heard Raul’s fantasies before and knew he’d piss them away.
‘You ain’t never told me about your own family.’
‘Some other time,’ Wayland said. He looked down the empty curve of coastline. He could make out the sails of two fishing boats heading in for Lynn.
‘There’s just one thing bothers me,’ Raul said.
‘What’s that?’
‘The captain. It would be a week’s work to know what he’s thinking, but I can tell you he ain’t on this frolic for the profits. If he was, he wouldn’t be so generous to the likes of you and me. Most commanders I served under, you were lucky to see any silver except what you got by plunder.’
‘So what’s your complaint?’
‘If I’m going to follow a man God knows where, I like to know why he’s going there.’
A flock of waders alighted at the waterline. They ran forward in little spurts, their legs flickering like the spokes of a wheel.
‘You must have noticed how Vallon don’t sleep easy,’ Raul said. ‘Tossing and turning like a goblin was riding on his shoulders.’
‘I don’t sleep easy thinking about what the Normans would do to us.’
‘That’s another thing. Vallon’s an outlaw twice over — in France as well as England. I heard Hero telling Richard about it.’
‘What was his crime?’
‘Don’t know, but it must have been grievous to drive him this far from home.’
The waders sprang into the air with piping cries. Wayland watched them fly off.
Raul stood and shouldered his crossbow. ‘All I’m saying is, the goblin that’s riding Vallon is steering all of us.’
Wayland made his way down the strand. A V-shaped ripple heading for shore caught his attention. An otter landed, shook its fur into spikes and sat up, clasping a fish. Wayland approached to within twenty feet before it saw him and dived back. He picked up the fish — an ugly, lop-sided creature that reminded him of Snorri. The otter surfaced and watched him, only its black eyes and whiskery muzzle showing. Wayland lobbed the fish but the otter was gone before it hit the water.
He’d started back up the shore when another movement caught his eye. A harrier glided over the reeds, its cat-like face fixed on the ground. Suddenly it swerved as if startled out of a dream. Two snipe flushed from close to the same spot and jinked upwards with grating cries. The dog hadn’t noticed anything amiss. Wayland walked up the beach, ordered the dog to drop and stepped inside the fen.
He placed his feet with care, making no sound louder than the reeds chafing in the breeze. He went deeper into the marsh and worked round in a semicircle until he saw Syth. She was crouching with her back towards him, clutching a bunch of reed stems, leaning out as far as she dared, one leg stretched for balance. A wide ditch lay between them. He stepped knee-deep into it and was halfway across when some sound or sense made her tense and turn. Her hand flew to her mouth and she sprang away with startling quickness. He floundered out of the ditch and raced after her. She darted into thicker growth. She knew the marsh better than he did. She was getting away. He put on a spurt and lunged and grabbed her tunic just as she dodged. It tore away in his hand and she sprawled half naked into the mud.
He jumped back as if scorched and threw the rag at her. She pulled it up to her throat. They watched each other, gasping.
‘Why are you spying on us?’
Her eyes darted from side to side.
