‘I will die before you take me.’
‘You have a taste for drama,’ said the merchant. ‘You are to be a boy; best cover the things that announce you, very much, as a woman.’ His eyes bulged as he said this in a self-mocking acknowledgement of his sauciness. ‘I know you Franks and Neustrians have no conception of real buttons.’
One by one, he pushed the twelve buttons at the front of the kaftan through their loops. Aelis was glad he did, as she would have had no idea how to put on such a strange garment herself. Then he put a rough cap on her head and smeared dirt all over her face. She looked like she was meant to, a young male slave, his hair cut short as a sign of his subjugation.
‘You are a mute,’ he said, ‘and my servant. Your breasts are flat enough in that but it might be well to keep your arms crossed when in company. It’s a good job you’re a skinny thing — if you had big tits we’d have no chance.’
Aelis was unused to having commoners talk to her like that. Had he spoken that way at court he would have found himself doing very hard penance indeed. However, she realised she was in no position to argue.
‘And one more thing. Stay here; pretend to be sleeping. Let me handle this.’
‘Can you persuade them?’
He looked at her. He knew Helgi coveted this woman above all others, that prophecy had told him their destinies were linked. However, Helgi’s was a new realm and the Franks held him in contempt. He would not be allowed to marry their lady. Hence, he had decided to take her. The reward for bringing her to the prince, thought Leshii, would allow him to retire into idleness and safety for the rest of his life.
‘I’ve spent my life persuading people,’ he said. ‘Now lie down and wait.’
Aelis did as she was bid while Leshii went back to his fire. He heard the men approaching up the hill, calling to each other and to her.
‘Come on, darling. Best we get you than the Ravens, believe me.’
‘You’re worth too much for us to harm you. Come on, you can be in front of a fire in short order if you show yourself.’
The dog was barking with the hollow bay of the hunt. It came first, bounding into the camp and quartering the ground with its eager nose.
Leshii breathed out. He was used to making audacious deals, used to taking his life in his hands as he crossed the vast plains of the east, out to Serkland, where the desert people sold him silks and swords, west to the great markets of Denmark and Sweden and even south to Byzantium, the empress of cities. This, though, was going to be difficult. Six men at least, all fevered with the hunt and the day’s battle; him with only his knife to protect all his wares and the most precious commodity of all — the lady who was going to make him a rich man. He got hold of his nerves and spoke in the Norse tongue, high and clear, allowing his accent to colour it more than was strictly necessary in order to sound exotic.
‘Greetings to the sons of my good friend Ongendus, who is also called Angantyr. How fares the noble king of the Danes?’
‘You’re a bit late, foreigner — he’s been dead these twenty years.’ The men were all soaking wet, gleaming in the moonlight — as were the points of their spears. The dog, a large, smooth-haired beast, was briefly taken with the remains of Leshii’s meal and was gnawing on a mutton bone. Leshii thought of his mother. She’d have taken it from the dog and boiled it for soup, small as it was. He preferred to discard such things, not because he was rich but because he had aspirations to be rich. Act wealthy and you will be wealthy, an Arab had once told him. It seemed good advice, but up to that point it had met with only limited success. Perhaps the saying had less truth than he had supposed. It wasn’t the acting that had let him down, for sure — Leshii was good at that
‘Then tell me his noble son Sigfrid has grown to rule you Danes. He was always the strongest and most noble lad. I played with him when he was a child. Does he still speak of me? Say that he does.’
‘Our lord is Sigfrid, true. Are you a friend of his?’
‘I was like a second father to the boy when he was young. I am Leshii, merchant of Ladoga known to you as Aldeigjuborg, ambassador of Prince Helgi the Dane, called Rus, ruler of the Eastern Lake, the lands of Novgorod and Kiev. Come and share my fire. We are kinsmen. I have wine here if you would like it.’
‘My name is Fastarr, son of Hringr. No time for wine, brother,’ said one of the men. ‘We are hunting a girl who has been on this shore. Have you seen her?’
The merchant swallowed. He liked the sound of ‘brother’.
‘No one but me,’ said Leshii. He watched as the two men at the front whispered to each other, one shooting him a sidelong glance.
‘Can’t we stop for a bit of wine, boss?’ The one who asked was small and thin but had a cold impassive killer’s face.
‘We could be all night and not find her. Let’s give it a bit longer with the dog and if he doesn’t turn anything up, call it quits and drink this merchant’s stash,’ said another.
Leshii glanced nervously towards the packs with his bottles in them. It was good stuff, meant for trading, not quaffing by a bunch of hairy-arsed warriors.
‘Plenty of time tomorrow, then,’ said Leshii. ‘My brother is coming with enough to drown us all. I will ensure you are the first to sample it. How Sigfrid will rejoice to have us both by his side again.’
‘You have no bodyguard, merchant.’ Fastarr spoke.
‘I travel with a magician, a shapeshifter. He looks over me whenever I am in need. Incredible. A man only needs to raise his sword against me and it is as if the shadows themselves strike at him. Splat! He is dead.’
The men murmured to each other again. Leshii caught a word. Hrafn — raven.
‘You arrived today?’
‘Indeed.’
‘We saw your welcome at the camp.’
Leshii realised his whole story was about to fall to bits. He had said he had known Sigfrid but not realised he had been made king of the Danes. Now the men thought he had been into the camp, so why hadn’t he made himself known to the king? But he knew very well that the present has a way of shaping the past and thought that he might get away with it, once enough wine had gone into the Norsemen’s mouths. So he did what he always did when he thought he was winning in a transaction. He said nothing, smiled and shrugged.
‘Where is the Raven now?’ asked the one with the hammer on his shield, who had been called Fastarr.
Again, Leshii smiled and shrugged.
‘He can’t have made it over that quickly, can he? Didn’t he go back over the bridge?’ said one of the younger men, looking about him. ‘That Odin lot give me the creeps. Especially the woman. She’s not here, is she?’
‘That witch isn’t bothered about the likes of you,’ said Fastarr. He addressed Leshii: ‘We’re looking for a Frankish woman — a noblewoman — we saw her jumping from a house above the walls. She’ll fetch a good ransom.’
Leshii didn’t blink.
‘I have no one,’ said Leshii. ‘I brought the Raven here and he was grateful and promised always to guard me. I have no idea what else he wanted.’ He wondered who this Raven was. He had come with a man he was convinced was a shapeshifter but he had been a wolf. Still, if the Varangians were scared of ravens, he was quite willing to make Chakhlyk a raven.
‘Why didn’t you take the Ravens to the king?’
So there were more than one.
‘I was waiting to gauge the reception they got,’ he said.
‘Good move. I’d have cut them into slices as soon as they got there if I’d been Sigfrid, starting with the woman.’ The one who spoke was thin and wiry and had most of the fingers on his left hand missing.
The dog finished its bone, sat up and coughed.
‘A fine animal, brothers. How much would you want for it?’
Leshii knelt down and gestured for the dog to come to him, but it just looked at him and moved away. He stopped himself from sighing. He’d wanted to hold it so that it couldn’t go into the woods and discover the lady.
‘A good hunting dog like that would cost twenty deniers,’ said the Dane.
‘Bring him here and let me examine him,’ said Leshii.
‘Saurr, get here,’ said the little one with the spiteful face. Leshii winced at the name. It meant ‘Shit’. ‘Saurr,
