Vallon looked out to sea. They’d rounded the cape marking the northernmost point of the Scottish king’s dominion, and now they were beginning the long western passage towards Suther land and Caithness. ‘Our next landing will be in Norwegian territory. Drop Snorri among his own kind and he’d swear a suit against us for theft. Since Iceland is tied to Norway by blood and trade, he’d be able to pursue his case against us even there.’
Hero and Richard didn’t answer.
‘You think I should kill him.’
Richard ducked his head and blinked as if he had something in his eye. Hero spoke in an urgent whisper. ‘Wayland and Raul are sure that Snorri intends to double-cross us. When we were in harbour, Raul saw him talking to a Norwegian crew who sailed to Orkney a few days before we left. Raul says that the way the men looked him over made him feel like a goose ready for plucking.’
Vallon conned the ship. Snorri was at the tiller. Raul stood behind him whipping a rope’s end, one eye on the conference at the bow.
‘If we were to murder him, the crime would poison our enterprise. How would your consciences bear it? And David wouldn’t serve with men who’d killed the ship’s master.’
‘I don’t want anyone’s death on my conscience,’ said Richard. ‘We just thought you should hear our concerns.’
‘I share them and I think I have the remedy. It will be expensive, though. Wipe the guilty look off your faces and tell Snorri I want a word.’
Watching the Norwegian come forward, Vallon wondered if he had any inkling that his life hung in the balance. His manner had grown more confident, less ingratiating since they’d left St Andrews.
Vallon assumed a pleasant aspect and made small talk about the fine weather and sailing prospects, before getting down to business. ‘Do you still intend to end our partnership once we reach Orkney?’
‘Aye, my heart is set on returning home.’
‘Suppose I increased my original offer — one-third of everything we gain by trade. Generous terms by any measure.’
‘I can take on cargo of me own in Orkney. It’s the beginning of the sailing season. Ye’ll have no trouble finding a fresh charter in Kirkwall. I’ll find ye one meself.’
‘How much will it cost?’
‘Twenty pound.’
‘And another twenty to Norway.’
‘Aye. Thereabouts.’
Vallon mused on the sums. ‘I’ll tell you what. I’ll give you forty pounds to buy
Snorri had begun shaking his head before Vallon had finished. ‘I ain’t selling
Vallon made his final throw. ‘All right. You won’t have to part with her. Agree to join us on the voyage and you’ll get the forty pounds —
Watching Snorri make his calculations, Vallon thought he’d hooked him. He wondered if he’d been too generous.
Snorri sneered. ‘Ye’re desperate, ain’t ye? Not so high and mighty now.’ He stamped his foot. ‘I say no to yer offer. Mebbe I’d’ve looked more kindly on it if ye hadn’t used me so ill, shown me more respect, kept yer word about the girl.’
‘Perhaps there’s another reason.’ Vallon raised up. ‘When we first met, I suspected that you planned to betray us. I hoped that time would sweeten your intentions, but it begins to look as if my fears were justified.’
The brand on Snorri’s forehead turned livid. He shook his good arm at Vallon. ‘I know what ye’re hatching. Ye mean to rob me of me ship. Well, ye won’t get away with it. I’ve sent messages to Orkney. If
‘It won’t be me who breaks our agreement,’ said Vallon. ‘Once you’ve brought us safe to Orkney and helped find us another ship, your obligation is discharged and I’ll pay you your due.’
‘Ye’d better.’ Snorri shuffled his feet, aware that Vallon hadn’t finished.
Vallon stared past him. ‘But if I come by proof that you don’t intend keeping your side of the bargain … ’ He smiled — the expression conveying the very opposite of a smile.
Another concern — at least for Wayland and Syth — was the dog. Its injuries were worse than had first appeared. On the third day it refused food and lay stretched on its side, breathing fast. Next morning its head was badly swollen, its eyes half shut and oozing matter. Hero prescribed a liquid diet and poultices of warm seawater. Vallon had little affection for the beast and privately wished it good riddance. Syth was distraught and spent all her free time nursing it, applying brine-soaked cloths to its head. When it showed no improvement, she dissolved a block of salt in boiling water. She let the solution cool just enough to be able to dip a hand in it, then Wayland held the dog down while she wrapped the hot cloth around the dog’s muzzle. The dog thrashed so violently that it dragged both minders along the deck. When the poultice cooled, Syth renewed it. She must have applied the cloth a dozen times before one of the puncture wounds in its muzzle burst and erupted a gout of pus together with one of Dormarth’s broken canines. Syth ran around showing off the tooth on the stained bandage as if it were a piece of the true cross.
A little later the dog rose as unsteadily as a newborn foal and licked at a bowl of bran moistened with broth. When they beached on the Caithness coast next evening, it was fully recovered and galloped splashing along the surf-line, putting wave after wave of gulls to flight. Syth ran behind it with her arms outstretched and Wayland jogged along wearing an embarrassed grin.
They tucked up overnight in the mouth of a river called Berriedale. David said that if the wind stayed in their favour, they would reach Wick next day and be in Orkney two days later. Vallon decided not to stop at Wick and ordered the crew to fill the water barrels. Waking early, he saw Wayland walking into camp with a deer slung over his shoulders. He’d risen before dawn and shot the buck in a wood upstream. The company gorged on venison and lingered late in the haven, wandering up the riverbank and bathing in amber-coloured pools under the leaning oaks. It was as if they knew that this was the last time they’d set foot on British shores.
Noon had passed before they struck out again, coasting under rugged cliffs where wild doves burst forth on clapping wings and veered overhead before diving back to their crags. Sooty birds no bigger than swallows flitted in
‘Mother Carey’s chickens,’ said Raul. He saw that the phrase meant nothing to Vallon. ‘Mother Carey’s the queen of the sea. Sits on the bottom combing her long green hair with the rib bones of drowned mariners.’ Raul nodded towards the pilot who stood in the bow gazing at the headlands stepping away to the north. ‘David had three sons and the sea took them all every one. Two in a storm, the other in a fishing accident. Never found but one body and the crabs had done nothing to improve his appearance.’
Vallon didn’t answer. Raul steered him around so that Snorri couldn’t see their faces. ‘Captain, we got to act soon. Just slip me the nod. I’ll do it tonight. No one will see. In the morning Snorri will be gone and by nightfall everyone will have forgotten him.’
‘I’m not going to discount a man’s life on nothing more than suspicion.’
‘Captain, you know it’s stronger than that.’
‘We have to take on supplies in Orkney and we’ll be arrested if we land without Snorri. Do nothing without my orders.’ Vallon pushed past Raul to show that the discussion was ended.
Two days later, with the sun spearing through clouds, they launched across the strait between the mainland and the Orkney Isles. The sea kicked up into peaks. Random bits of the archipelago showed over the waves for a moment then sank from sight as
