Hawk Quest

laggard.

‘Wayland.’

Wayland hurried up.

‘Is that another sail?’

Wayland looked long and hard. ‘Yes.’

Vallon glowered at Helgi’s ship. Someone on board must have spotted the longship, but the knarr continued making for the rivermouth. ‘Look at that. Thinks only of himself.’

‘Can’t blame him,’ said Raul. ‘He wouldn’t be able to reach the knarr before the longship catches it.’

‘They’re his countrymen. He should have been escorting them. All he cares about is himself and his precious sister.’ Vallon narrowed his eyes, estimating distances. ‘If we take to the oars, we might be able to reach the Icelanders first.’

‘No, we won’t. The Vikings can row three times as fast as we can, and they’ve got the wind behind them. Captain, leaving the Icelanders don’t sit comfortable with me neither, but we got no choice.’

Vallon cast another glance at Helgi’s ship. ‘Heave to. We’ll give the Icelanders a chance to catch up.’

Raul gave a distraught hop. ‘Captain-’

‘Heave to.’

Shearwater lost way. The company waited.

It was a strange sort of day, the wind coming in gusts that blew alternately warm and cold. They must be at the confluence of currents. The Iceland ship slowly gained on them, but the longship was making the faster headway.

Garrick crossed himself. ‘There are women and children on board. God help them.’

‘Isn’t there anything we can do?’ Hero murmured.

‘No, there ain’t,’ Raul snapped. ‘We’re putting ourselves in peril for nothing.’

Half a mile from their prey the Vikings took to their oars. The sea foamed at the blades and gnashed around the longship’s bow. The monks fell to their knees, entreating God to intervene. Vallon checked the angle of the sun. He glanced at his ring, saw that the gem had darkened and dismissed its warning. There was hardly a cloud in the sky and it wasn’t the first time that the jewel had predicted falsely. The breeze carried faint cries from the Icelandic ship.

Richard covered his face. ‘I can’t bear to watch.’

The longship surged up to the knarr and the Vikings leaped aboard. A brief melee and then across the sea drifted the blaring of a war horn.

‘Permission to get underway, Captain.’

Two figures toppled from the knarr. Another followed. ‘What’s that about?’

‘They’re getting rid of the old and infirm — anyone who won’t fetch a price in the slave mart.’

‘Are they pagans?’

‘Likely they are if they’re from the north. Please, Captain …’

Vallon saw that Helgi’s ship was almost out of sight. ‘Make for the estuary.’

Raul clapped his hands. ‘Jump to it.’

Up went the sail, round came the bow. They’d gone about two miles when the longship left its victim and set off in pursuit. A mile further and the wind failed. Shearwater glided to a stop. Her sail flapped once and then hung listless.

XXIX

Mist wafted from the surface in lazy coils. The air felt vacuous. Vallon consulted his ring and saw that the stone had turned as black as Cosmas’s eye. The Vikings stroked towards them. They were tired from their exertions and knew that Shearwater couldn’t escape. Vallon looked at the shore three or four miles away. Helgi’s ship lay becalmed in a wide fairway that channelled inland between bare and rolling hills.

‘You were right. I made a poor decision.’

Raul hefted his crossbow. ‘We’re in a pickle sure enough.’

‘They’ll have left a prize crew on the knarr. Reduces the odds.’

‘Four or five at most. Not enough to make a difference.’

Vallon watched the oncoming longship. The sea had settled into an oily calm. A feather of cloud brushed the sun and the sky was dulling over.

‘Do they have thunderstorms this far north?’

‘One of the Greenlanders told me he ain’t seen but one in all his life.’

The longship had closed to within a mile. The Vikings hadn’t bothered to lower the sail and in the slack air it rippled back against the mast. The ship had no deck and the crew rowed in pairs sitting on thwarts with round shields slung over their backs. They’d herded the survivors from the captured knarr into the stern.

‘What’s the plan?’ said Raul.

‘Fight. What else?’

‘To the last man?’

Vallon reviewed his force. Wayland had strung his bow and clad his dog in its spiked collar and a suit of armour tailored from walrus hide. Garrick, Hero and Richard had armed themselves with swords. That was all the defence they could muster. Vallon’s gaze rested briefly on Syth.

‘You make it sound as if we have a choice.’

‘They think we’re traders. If we sting them in their first attack, they might offer terms.’

‘Such as?’

‘Hand over our goods.’

‘Including Syth?’

Raul fiddled with his crossbow and grinned a crooked grin. ‘Ah, well, we all got to meet our doom sometime.’

‘We’ll take a few with us,’ said Vallon. He waved Wayland forward.

‘Shoot as straight and fast as you can. Make every arrow count.’

Wayland nodded, his features drawn. ‘However many I kill, we won’t be able to stop them boarding.’

‘If that happens, do what you must do by Syth, and then face your own end bravely. If you’re killed before then, I’ll make sure you aren’t separated by death.’

Vallon turned his attention back to the longship. It still had half a mile to cover, but the air was so still that he could hear the swish of its oars. He took another glance at the sun. The cloud had swelled into a baleful nebula.

‘Lower the sail.’

Everyone looked at the lifeless panel. No one moved.

‘Raul, Garrick, get the sail lowered. You, too, Wayland. Double quick!’

They stumbled into action. Vallon watched the longship approach. The Vikings had left a prize crew on the captured knarr, reducing their number to about two dozen. In the bow, rhythmically thumping the dragon-carved stem with the haft of his battle-axe, stood a yellow-haired giant wearing a chainmail vest.

‘Kill that one first,’ Vallon said.

Raul spat. ‘He ain’t going to be hard to hit.’

Vallon fell quiet. Raul was right. No man could foretell the time and place of his death and there was no point railing against this arbitrary assignment with fate.

The longship was only a furlong away when daylight drained away. The sea dimmed, as if a creature too vast to see had cast its shadow across the earth. From the Viking ship came the brazen blast of a war horn. A stroke of lightning flashed vertically down less than a mile away, followed by a dry crackle of thunder.

In a well-rehearsed move, every second Viking rower shipped his oar and ranged himself along the side. Several had bows. The others wielded swords, axes and spears. Two of them dangled grappling hooks. All of them carried circular wooden shields quartered in red and white.

Raul knelt beside Vallon and steadied his crossbow. Wayland took up position behind him.