waking life. What of that thing that had come from within her to speak to the mules — what was that? She tried to force her attention back to the present. The immediate danger from the Norsemen should be her concern, she thought, not the threat of devils.
The Norsemen were all very drunk and stumbled to find their weapons. She couldn’t tell what they were saying but they seemed worried. She kept away from the imp, fearing him. The others had become louder and more friendly with the drink; he had become withdrawn, more sullen, sitting at the side of the fire with a weak smile of contempt for his guffawing companions.
They all went down a slight slope to the biggest house in the area. It was a mean dwelling, as all those outside the city walls were, timber-framed with unfinished mud for its walls. It had been decorated in a hideous pastiche of the Roman style, its steep pitched roof timbered but daubed in painted checks to try to give the impression of tiles, leaving it more unpleasant-looking than if it had been built as a simple peasant’s dwelling in unadorned wood. Scraps of vellum hung at the windows. Aelis guessed the Norsemen had cut them through when they moved in, unused to anything to keep the draught out. It was a small thing, a very small thing, but it seemed to bring home their barbarity to her. How could the Franks lose to such a rabble? Because, as her brother said, the emperor was fat and lazy and preferred to fritter away his people’s fortune in bribes to the Normans rather than face them in the field as a man. Eudes himself had shown they could be beaten, and more cheaply than they could be bought, but Charles insisted on paying them to go away. Her brother had maintained that payments in gold guaranteed the Norsemen would come back. Payments in steel meant they would not.
They arrived at the house and she stopped the mules. Warriors were all around, some standing in full armour, some sitting down playing at dice, eating or sleeping. Then she remembered one of the packs contained her hair. What would the king make of that if he saw it? The Norseman called Fastarr put up his hand and addressed the warriors. She couldn’t understand what he said but Leshii, seeing her fear, whispered a translation.
‘This is the king, boys. Remember, for once, that I’m the one you elected speaker so let me do the talking. It’s me he struck the deal with and me he’ll want to hear from. I don’t want one word out of any of you, is that understood?’
‘What if he questions us directly about what went on?’
‘Say you just followed me. Any more questions, just say you don’t know and that I had a better view of it than you.’
‘What if he asks me about my cock?’ said Ofaeti, scratching himself. Leshii translated, seeming to find any mention of sex or the seats of corruption of the body vastly amusing.
‘Well, I could definitely get a better view of that than you. You can’t have seen it these fifteen years, you fat bastard.’
There was laughter but Fastarr quietened it.
‘Seriously, no jokes. Don’t speak unless you’re spoken to. Let’s get in and out of here as quick as we can. Get the monk.’
Aelis stood and watched as Confessor Jehan was dragged inside and Leshii busied himself with the mules. The Norseman had forgotten about him, too worried by the king’s summons and he wasn’t about to remind them. She felt cold and in her mind heard that voice again, the crack of a raven’s call.
She looked down the slope towards the river, towards the formidable but battered tower on the bridge. She’d be shot by her own people before she even got within shouting range if she tried to swim for it. The only way was north, into Neustria, much of which was under Norman control. She would have to bide her time to escape; besides, it was her Christian duty to do her best to protect the saint.
She was too much in demand, she thought. Wolfmen, ravens, the Danes, all seemed to want her. For the moment it was safer to be a mute idiot boy.
She touched the leading mule’s ears and it nuzzled into her. At least, she thought, she had won an ally there.
10
Jehan smelled roast meat and a fire scented with pine needles. Fresh reeds had been scattered on the floor. There was a hum of conversation in the house which stopped as he was brought in.
‘Lord Sigfrid,’ said Fastarr, ‘we have captured this man, one of their gods, and we bring him before you to await your pleasure.’
‘Did you get the girl?’
‘No, sir.’
‘Why not?’
‘She escaped us in the darkness of the south bank.’
‘So why are you not there? It will soon be light.’
‘We had lost her, sir, and this man is such a valuable commodity we thought you would want him straight away.’
‘Or did you get bored, want to return to your drink and your women, and thought you might throw me a scrap to keep me sweet?’
No one said anything and Jehan heard the king snort. There was a noise like metal on wood. A cup or a bowl on a table? A sword?
‘Did the Raven get her?’
‘Not as far I know, sir. He shot another shapeshifter but didn’t get her, I think.’
‘Doesn’t like getting his feathers wet,’ said Ofaeti.
Fastarr breathed out. The monk could sense he was irritated that his request for silence was going unheeded.
‘Another shapeshifter?’
‘Yes, sir. A wolfman.’
‘Where did he come from? Could he be the wolf that was prophesied?’
‘I don’t know, sir. Anyway, he’s dead.’
‘Unlikely to be that wolf then. Has anyone seen the Raven since?’
‘I expect he’ll be back in the woods with his sister, provided she hasn’t died.’
‘In which case he’ll be cooking her,’ said Ofaeti.
‘Shut up, Ofaeti,’ said Fastarr.
The king gave a dry laugh. ‘You don’t fancy cutting the crow’s throat, do you, Fastarr?’
‘I would have done it in the city if he didn’t move so quick, sir.’
‘Really? I wasn’t being serious. He’s useful to me and an ally. We just have a disagreement on the correct path forward, that’s all.’
‘Above my head all that, my lord.’
‘Good.’
The confessor heard footsteps approaching. Sigfrid’s voice said, ‘This is the god?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘The crippled saint. That’s not a god, Fastarr; you should get your terminology right. But you act for God, don’t you, priest?’
Jehan said nothing.
‘You’re renowned, do you know that? Your men-at-arms shout your name as they pour fire and stones down on my ships. Is he a mute? Is his tongue as twisted as his body? Does he speak our language?’
‘He can talk, I reckon,’ said Ofaeti. ‘He said something in their temple.’
‘What did he say?’
‘He wasn’t a god.’
‘Well, we’re agreed on something then. How did you come by him, Fastarr?’
‘He was with the girl in the temple.’
