‘It cannot be. It cannot be.’ Tears were in his eyes and he was panting great reedy breaths like a man dying of consumption.
‘Whatever you become, I will be by your side,’ she said. ‘I will take you to Helgi. He will make us both whole again, free us from the magic that holds us in its grip.’
She reached out with her mind to the horse rune, its golden lustre colouring her sight, turning the silver trees to a breathing bronze.
‘We will need,’ she said, ‘an animal.’
64
It quickly became clear that there was no way through by land for Leshii, Ofaeti and Hugin. The road to the east was alive with hostile warriors — Franks and Norsemen hard at war with each other. If they went far enough someone from either side would decide to kill them for their possessions.
The rain poured down and the three struck for the coast under heavy skies, Ofaeti and Hugin trudging through the mud and Leshii riding the mule. There had been no sign of the horses. When the weather cleared the land seemed fresh and there was smoke on the breeze. This was pleasant to Hugin. On his high mountain he had often caught the scent of fires in the valleys below and wondered what it would be like to live his life around home and hearth.
The Raven knew that when Sigfrid had died a large contingent of the Vikings besieging Paris had decided to head off and try their luck in the lands of Arnulf, the East Frankish king, so that was where they headed, hoping to pick up a boat. There should be either local Frankish craft to be bought or stolen and the chance of Viking ships with room for passengers.
He had quit the woods in frustration, though his every instinct told him that was where she was. When all sign of her or the wolf had ceased he had given in and decided to try with Helgi, reasoning that she may still seek out the prince. And if she wasn’t there? If he was right in his suspicions she had to be. Could he kill Helgi? Perhaps, if the god did not yet know himself. But should he? Perhaps it would be better to protect Helgi from the wolf. But the god had a way of finding his chosen death, he suspected. So what options did that leave him? Find Aelis and protect her from the wolf, from the god and whatever other perils lay in her path. Defy the will of fate.
Ofaeti followed, happy to let Hugin take the lead. Leshii was just glad to be out of the forest. Searching there had been a fool’s errand, he thought. And whatever waited for him at Ladoga, he would be glad to see home again, out of the forest in the cold autumn.
A couple of weeks into their journey they crested a small hill and saw a wide marshy plain laid out before them with a town tucked into the crook of a river. The buildings were smouldering, a banner of smoke hanging over them in the windless air. Even at a distance Hugin could see that a terrible battle had taken place.
The town was large and circular with tall and grassy ramparts. Twenty longboats were moored in front of it, and people were just visible, working among them, wading or using small boats, dragging things out of the river onto the swampy ground that bordered it. Grey light, grey water, Hugin had difficulty seeing what it was they were moving. Then his eyes focused and he saw bodies.
‘The Franks have held out,’ he said.
‘A cold welcome for Northmen here, I think,’ said Ofaeti.
The Raven nodded.
‘Arnulf of Carinthia’s a different man to Charles the Fat,’ said Leshii.
‘I’ve heard of him,’ said Ofaeti, ‘a man with glory to his name. It’s said that if he was the emperor in the west instead of fat Charles then we’d have slimmer pickings by far.’
‘Only pickings here for crows,’ said Hugin. He noticed Ofaeti giving him a funny look. ‘There are plenty of boats down there. If we can steal or buy one then we can catch the fleet as it retreats.’
‘If I had but eight of my beserkers we’d take one of those drakkar and be away as rich men,’ said Ofaeti.
‘A river barge would be better,’ said Hugin. ‘We’ll go down tonight.’
‘A good plan,’ said Ofaeti.
When the night came little fires sprang up across the plain. On an island in the river a feast seemed to be taking place. Torches were everywhere — on the island and on the boats that shuttled between the town and the celebration.
The three moved off the hill into a network of tiny hedged fields. Luckily there was a good path, and as they passed along they heard sounds of rejoicing from every little farm. It was late in the year; the Norsemen hadn’t burned the fields and the harvest was in. People had reason to be happy. It was cold, but the three men moved quickly and didn’t feel it. The path led to the raised riverbank.
‘Merchant, you can do the talking,’ said Hugin.
The Raven and Ofaeti watched from a distance until Leshii had struck his bargain, then approached, their heads cowled. The Franks who had sold Leshii the boat watched the odd figures climb aboard. Strangers should in theory have been reported to the lord, but the people had been hungry during the Viking siege and the money was welcome. The merchant had bought a good-sized river boat with oars and a mast that Ofaeti shook in a disapproving way. The Viking said nothing, though. The Franks were within earshot, and the Frankish clothes he had taken from the outlaws were a thin disguise.
A greasy moon put a smear of light onto the clouds and visibility, though not perfect, was good enough for them to set off immediately, so they got the mule on board.
Ofaeti took the oars, and they pushed off out into the current. The boat slipped forward through the water with the flow towards the sea. Progress was steady, although every once in a while an oar would snag on a floating corpse or the boat would bump something. Ofaeti smiled and said, ‘A bit late for swimming, isn’t it?’
Leshii kept his eyes on his feet and the Raven was silent. He knew what Munin had prophesied for him, and there, in the faces of the dead men looming like pale fish under the weak moon, he saw his future. Death by water. Given the choice he would never have gone by boat, but he had travelled that way before and intended to go east under sail if he could. He had a great destiny, Munin had said. But she had lied about so much. Perhaps he was destined to die in a stupid way — a fall from a boat, a spear from a villager. The fact of his death did not concern him, only that he would not be there to protect Aelis from her fate. He had died for her before. He saw the teeth of the wolf coming towards him, heard her screams in that tight little cavern where he had faced the creature. It wouldn’t be like that this time, he knew. Death by water.
Dawn came up under a slate sky. There was a little wind and Ofaeti put up the sail. The current was with them and they made good progress. The river fed into another bigger one and they kept with its flow, heading for the sea. All around them the land was burned — houses and crops reduced to nothing.
They tried to buy food but the people were destitute. Their farms and houses had been smashed and those who remained were just haunting their old lives, not living them. So the three went hungry.
When it got too dark to see they pulled into the bank. The Raven lit a fire, Leshii let the mule stretch its legs, and they sat neither eating nor speaking until they slept. The next day was the same. The Vikings had not had it all their own way, even before their defeat at the upriver town. Norse heads adorned spikes at one farm, and Ofaeti had to be talked out of going ashore to avenge the injustice. It was one thing for a man to be left for the crows where he lay, another to flaunt his death in that way.
On they went, the sky grey, the air spotting with rain.
‘I had not thought we had come this far inland,’ said Leshii.
‘The forest is difficult to read,’ said Ofaeti.
The current was faster now so Ofaeti took down the sail but the boat did not feel steady ‘This is not boatbuilding,’ he said; ‘this is throwing wood in a pile, nailing it together and hoping it floats. The Franks should stick to their horses.’
Finally a bay, broad and lovely, the iron clouds lighting up with the dusk.
‘The sun forges a blade of clouds,
