‘Christ!’ Finan swore. ‘That big bastard has a lot of men!’
‘Which big bastard?’
‘The one in the centre. Seventy men? Eighty?’
‘How many on the snake bastard?’
‘Maybe forty, fifty?’
‘Enough to frighten a merchantman,’ I said.
‘They don’t seem frightened of us,’ he said drily. The three larger ships were still coursing towards us, confident that they outnumbered us. ‘Be careful of that big bastard,’ Finan said, pointing to the middle ship, the one with the larger crew.
I gazed at the ship, which had a lime-washed cross mounted high on its prow. ‘Doesn’t matter how many they have,’ I said, ‘they reckon we only have forty men.’
‘They do?’ he seemed amused by my confidence.
‘They tortured Haggar. What could he tell them? They’d have asked how often our ships go to sea and how many men crewed them. What would he have said?’
‘That you keep two warships in the harbour, that Spearhafoc is the bigger one, and usually has a crew of forty, but sometimes not so many.’
‘Exactly.’
‘And that usually it’s Berg who takes her to sea.’
Berg was Egil’s youngest brother, and I had saved his life on a Welsh beach many years before and, ever since, he had served me well and faithfully. Berg had been disappointed to be left behind on this voyage, but with Finan and me at sea, he was the best man to command Bebbanburg’s remaining garrison. I would usually have left my son in charge, but he was in the central hills of Northumbria to settle a dispute between two of my tenants.
‘They think we’re about forty men,’ I said, ‘and they’ll reckon Banamaðr at about thirty.’ I laughed, then touched the hilt of Serpent-Breath, my sword, before shouting across to Egil. ‘Turn now!’ I heaved the steering-oar to windward and Spearhafoc dipped her prow as she slewed around. ‘Tighten the sail!’ I shouted. The trap was sprung, and now the snake would discover how the wolf and the eagle fought.
I had tightened Spearhafoc’s sail to quicken her again. She was faster than the enemy’s ships. I could see the weed thick on the snake-ship’s bottom whenever she reared on a wave. She was slow. We dried our ships out on a falling tide and scraped their lower hulls clean, which kept us fast. I turned back towards Banamaðr. ‘I plan to sink the bastard,’ I shouted, ‘then go east after the second one!’
Egil waved, and I assumed he had heard me. Not that it mattered, Spearhafoc was pulling ahead, she was as close to the wind as I dared take her, but she was carving her swift path, she was breaking the sea white at her cutwater. She was as deadly as her name now, and Egil would realise soon enough what I planned.
‘You’re going to ram her?’ Finan asked.
‘If I can, and I want you in the prow. If I don’t hit her right you’ll need to get aboard her and kill their helmsman. Then ditch their steering-oar.’
Finan went forward, shouting at men to follow him. We were closing on the snake-ship now, near enough to see a group of men in her bow and see the spears they carried. Their helmets reflected the light. One clung to the forestay, another hefted his spear. There was a group of archers in the belly of the boat, arrows already on their strings. ‘Beornoth!’ I shouted, ‘Folcbald! Come here! Bring your shields!’ Beornoth was a stolid, reliable man, a Saxon, while Folcbald was an enormous Frisian, one of my strongest warriors. ‘You’re to protect me,’ I said. ‘You see those archers? They’ll aim for me.’
The helmsman was in the most vulnerable place on a ship. Most of my men were crouched in Spearhafoc’s belly behind raised shields, Finan had gone to the bow where he and six men also made a barrier of shields, but I had to stand at the steering-oar. The arrows would come soon, we were seething through the green seas and were close enough that I could see the nail heads on the snake-ship’s hull. I glanced to my left. The other three enemy ships had seen where we were going and had turned to help, but that turn meant they were now heading directly into the wind and their sails were flattening against the masts. Men were scrambling to lower the sails and to thrust oars through their holes, but they were slow and their ships were being blown backwards and pitching hard in the rising seas.
‘Now!’ Beornoth growled and raised his shield. He had seen the archers loose their arrows.
A half-dozen arrows thumped into the sail, others flickered past to plunge into the sea. I could hear the waves roaring, the wind’s song through the rigging, and then I shoved the steering blade hard, putting all my strength into the oar’s great loom, and I saw the snake-ship turning towards us, which is what her helmsman should have done moments before, but now it was too late. We were close, and closing fast. ‘Spears!’ Finan shouted the warning from the prow.
‘Brace!’ I bellowed. An arrow glanced off the iron rim at the top of Folcbald’s shield, a spear-blade scarred the deck at my feet, then Spearhafoc heeled into the turn and a gust of wind buried her rail. I staggered, an arrow smacked hard into the sternpost, then Spearhafoc recovered, her sail protesting as we turned into the wind, water streaming from her scuppers, and above the sounds of the sea and the howl of the wind I heard the shouts of alarm from the enemy.
‘Hold hard!’ I shouted at my crew.
And we struck.
We lurched violently forward as we jarred to a stop. There was a huge splintering sound, bellows of fright, a churning of water, curses. The backstay beside me tautened frighteningly and, for an instant, I thought our mast would collapse across the bows, but the twisted sealhide held, even though it vibrated like a plucked harp string.
