surrendered by me to the Emir of Zaragoza. I picked it up and climbed the stairs to my lady’s chamber.
‘I opened it. By now the storm was overhead. A barb of lightning revealed my wife lying against a man. The clouds burst and raindrops as big as grapes splashed on the roof. I opened the shutters and breathed in the dusty smell of rain falling on parched ground. I knew I’d never see my home again.’
Vallon’s features were set in a rigid smile.
‘I stood waiting. Wind came with the rain and rattled the shutters. Roland twitched awake. Thunder crashed and the room filled with blue light. Roland started up. “Who’s there?” he cried.’
Hero fingered his throat.
‘I didn’t answer. My wife woke and clung to her lover. I waited for the next stroke of lightning and that was the last thing they saw. I didn’t prolong their suffering. I ended their lives with two strokes.’
Hero was silent for a while. ‘What about your children?’
‘I was going to kill them, too.’ Vallon rounded on Hero. ‘Honour gone, prospects gone, everything gone. What would you have done?’
Hero swung his head.
‘I went to their nursery. The storm had woken them and their old nurse was comforting them, cradling the son who hadn’t been born when I left for Spain. Even my eldest didn’t recognise me and shrieked in terror. Their nurse had been my nurse and it was she who realised that this bloodstained ghoul was her master. She clutched the children to her and begged for mercy. She swore that my wife had thought I was dead. Roland had told her that I’d been wounded in action and had died in prison. He’d helped commit my remains to the ground. I think he probably bribed the Emir to kill me, but the old fox must have decided to bury me alive in case I might serve some future purpose. The nurse told me that Roland began to visit my wife to console her in her grief. Their friendship deepened and … Well, who cares about that? I left my children unharmed, took horse and armour, and rode away. I travelled east, intending to cross into Italy. Three weeks later I met you and your one-eyed master.’
Hero picked at his knees. ‘If you’d known that Roland had deceived your wife, would you have spared her?’
‘No. Of course not.’
‘Didn’t you love her?’
‘What’s that got to do with it?’
Hero saw that the night was lifting. ‘What was her name?’
Vallon shook his head. ‘It doesn’t matter.’
XVII
Wayland woke cold and queasy in a dull grey dawn. He lay listening to the wind moaning in the shrouds, someone throwing up. Draped in his blanket, he felt for the side and stood blinking at the endless white-caps. Not a sail to be seen or any sight of land. They were still sailing north-east, pitching through lumpy waves and scudding rain. The stink of tallow and tar and vomit made his gorge rise. Sweat broke out on his brow. Gripping the gunwale with both hands, he puked over the side. When he was done, he leaned on the gunwale and turned his head to see who the other victim might be. It was Vallon, propped in exactly the same wretched condition.
A day of retching misery lay in store for everyone except Snorri and Syth. She’d been sailing since she could walk and darted about as blithely as a lark. Despite his own seasickness, Vallon didn’t spare himself or allow the others to shirk. Joints had shrunk during the ship’s lay-up and Wayland had to take his turn bailing out the hold and hammering tarred wool into the leaking seams. He shifted ballast to adjust the trim and helped brace the rigging. On Vallon’s orders, Raul and Snorri drilled everyone in the basics of seamanship. Wayland learned the rudiments of reefing and lowering the sail, how to use the tacking boom to keep the sail drawing when heading close to the wind.
He was still seasick in the evening and went to his rest without supper, dossing down amidships in his wet clothes. But for the warmth of the dog at his side, he wouldn’t have slept a wink. He woke in a seizure of shivering under a field of stars. The wind had turned, bringing sharp clear air from the east. The dog was gone. He sat up and whistled softly.
‘He’s down here with me.’
Wayland went to the edge of the hold. Syth had been given the aft half-deck for her sleeping quarters. Her eyes shone pale in the starlight.
She giggled. ‘He wanted somewhere warm.’
‘That’s all right. He can stay.’
‘You’re shivering. Why don’t you come down, too? I want to talk to you.’
Wayland glanced behind him. ‘No. I’ll be sick.’
Syth yawned. ‘Poor Wayland. Goodnight then.’
The night lay long before him. What was he going to do about Syth? The problem tugged like a hook in his gut. Of course she couldn’t accompany them on such a dangerous voyage, but where did that leave him? The last thing he wanted was to be stuck on an unfamiliar shore with a girl he hardly knew. He cringed when he recalled his ridiculous ultimatum to Vallon. That stuff about making a pledge. He hadn’t made any pledge. He’d been thinking of his sister — and Syth wasn’t his sister.
He watched the stars turn in their course and knew that he’d have to leave her behind. When he’d threatened to quit the expedition, he’d been speaking in French. Syth couldn’t have understood, so it wasn’t like he’d be breaking his word. She must realise that there was no place for her on the ship. It would be cruel to keep her here. He’d risked his life saving her from the Normans. She couldn’t expect more of him than that. The more he thought about it, the more he agreed with Vallon. Set the girl down at the earliest opportunity.
With this decision firmly lodged, Wayland rolled up in his blanket and turned on his side.
Waking into the new day, he felt like a man reborn. Vallon had let him lie late and the sun was level with the yardarm and shone warm on his face. His nausea was gone and his head clear. He sat up. Spray burst in rainbows over the bow. Water chattered along the hull. He watched the deck flex as
Feet padded on the deck. He turned and his grin died. Syth came dashing up with a bowl of porridge. She performed all her errands at a barefoot and almost soundless run. She’d hacked her hair short, which only emphasised her girlish features. The men’s clothes she wore wouldn’t have fooled anybody.
Wayland took the bowl. Syth bobbed her head, encouraging him to eat. He steeled himself.
‘We’ll be landing in the next day or two.’
Her lips were parted. Her wide eyes searched him. She looked like a child whose only wish is to please.
‘You’ll be going ashore.’
‘With you?’
‘No, of course not. I’m travelling to Iceland.’
Panic filled her eyes. She retreated a few paces. The dog was with her and it stared at Wayland.
‘We’ll give you money. You don’t have to go back to the fen. You could go to Norwich.’
‘I don’t want to go to Norwich. I want to stay with you.’
‘You can’t. We’ll be voyaging for months. Imagine being cooped up on a ship full of strange men.’
Syth looked back down the deck. ‘I don’t mind.’
‘Well, I do.’
Her lips quivered. ‘I thought you liked me. Why else did you rescue me?’
‘Because the Normans would have killed you. That doesn’t mean I have to take care of you for ever. It’s not just me. Every one wants you off the ship. You get in the way. You’re a nuisance.’
‘How?’
Wayland struck off at a tangent. ‘The way you sing without knowing that you’re singing. It drives me mad.’
