‘I will protect you. I will serve you.’
‘Swear it, on whatever gods you have.’
‘I swear it on the sky and the land,’ said Feileg.
‘Then this is the only service I require of you: that you will not harm him, my love, who brought you here,’ said Adisla. ‘I hold you to your oath. Can you keep it?’
‘Yes.’
She took a knife from her belt and cut through his bonds. The ships were closer now, the men almost individually visible. She sawed and cut. The wolfman was bound at the hands and at the neck. No one noticed what she was doing in the panic. Eventually he was free.
Feileg stood, moving like an old man getting out of bed.
‘Now go. You are in danger from both sides. Go!’
‘I will stay with you.’
‘No,’ said Adisla. ‘I forbid it. Go. You swore me your service now do as I say and run.’
The wolfman stared at her. In some ways he reminded her of an animal, a dog, craning its head in curiosity at hearing an unfamiliar sound.
‘The wolfman is free, sir!’
‘Adisla, stay still; I’m coming!’
Vali was a bowshot away but coming towards them at a run, a seax in his hand. The wolfman saw his advance and bared his teeth.
‘Your oath!’ said Adisla.
The wolfman took her by the shoulders. ‘I will not forget you,’ he said.
And then he kissed her — a child’s kiss, no more than pushing his lips into hers — and was gone. Adisla was rigid with shock as Vali arrived at her side.
‘Adisla, are you all right? How did he get free? Are you all right? Darling, are you all right? Where is Drengi? Where is he? Where is your betrothed?’
‘I think he went with the other men to the hill.’
Vali frowned. ‘Well, he should be looking for you. You should be his first concern.’
‘What shall I do?’
‘Go to the farm and get your mother out into the fields. You must hide — you know the places. I’ll look for you when it’s done.’
Adisla hugged him and for the first time in her life understood the feelings of the women on the quayside as they wished their husbands off to war, and she knew what a man wants at such times — not reminders of the love he’s leaving, not adjurations to keep safe or wishes for luck. A man in battle needs courage, no thought that his death will inconvenience or upset anyone but himself. So Adisla kissed him and said the traditional parting words from a wife to a warrior setting out for battle.
‘Kill a hundred of them for me.’
He nodded, squeezed her to him and then let her go.
‘Run,’ he said. ‘Run for your life.’
She did, tearing up the hill towards her farm.
Vali looked back to the sea. By the quay he saw the most extraordinary thing. The wolfman was facing the three longships alone. He stood on the little beach growling and beating his chest, standing tall and upright one instant, crouching low to the sand the next. The berserks were baying to attack, but the ruddermen had brought the boats about to get a better look at him. To the sober men in charge of the ships it seemed they were confronted by a werewolf and they wanted a clear sight of him before rushing in.
Feileg was delaying the landing and that gave Vali time to act. He had no idea where Forkbeard stored his treasure — that secret was known only by a very few people indeed — but in the hall there were enough fine cups and wall hangings to suit Vali’s purpose. He tore a couple of hangings down and wrapped as many of the metal plates and cups as he could inside them. Then he tied them loosely and ran outside. He knew the berserks would follow him simply if he taunted them but he wanted to give the rest of the warriors a reason to chase him too.
Now he really could see the enemy clearly. The longships were only a short distance from the shore and parallel to it. The warriors were screaming, howling like wolves and roaring like bears, some jabbering incoherently, some even fighting each other. Berserks, definitely. Vali swallowed. Good. That was what he wanted.
The ruddermen now evidently decided that one wolfman, no matter how magical, would not stand in their way. Turned by their oars, the prows of the boats swung towards the shore. Picking up the pace, the rowers sped the longships in to attack.
The wolfman had done what he wanted, given Adisla more time to get away. Now he too ran, and Vali was the only one left in the settlement, just a couple of scouts watching him from up the hill.
He waved to them and they waved back. He got onto his horse, swinging the clanking bundles up beside him. It wasn’t easy to balance the load but he managed it, dropping a couple of plates as he did so. That didn’t matter; in fact, it was all to the good. Vali wheeled his horse towards the shore, trotting towards the onrushing Danes.
A couple of berserks couldn’t contain their desire to get at him and leaped into the water, half drowning as they tried to stay afloat without letting go of their weapons.
Vali turned the horse side on to the approaching boats and screamed at them, ‘Too late, you cowards. Can’t you see? Forkbeard’s treasure is flying from you!’
A few arrows flew from the nearest longship and Vali instinctively pulled back on the reins. Not one arrow struck him but the animal took fright, staggering sideways, bucking and kicking him off. Vali landed in the water and the tapestries spilled open, showering cups and plates into the sea. The clatter spooked the horse even more and it bolted.
A roar went up from the incoming boats. Vali was badly winded but had no time to recover. He gathered up what he could in his arms and staggered up the beach towards another horse.
Behind him he heard a heavy crunch as the ships grounded.
‘Odin, slayer! Odin, madman! Odin, war-drunk! Odin! Odin! Odin!’
The berserks didn’t even stop for the plates and cups, just charged at him. Vali made the other horse, untied it and mounted. He had one silver cup left from the hoard he had bundled into the tapestries. He raised it towards the berserks. As he did so, he saw a familiar face. At the front of the charge was a massive man in a white bear skin, a cleft right down the front of his forehead. It was the berserk who had killed the monks, Bodvar Bjarki. He had a throwing spear in one hand and the huge iron rattle in the other. So now he was their leader.
It had been three years and Vali was a stronger man than he had been then, but he reminded himself of his plan. Still, he called to the berserk: ‘Remember me, you half-witted coward? Have you come to pay me for my slaves you killed?’
The berserk heaved the spear at Vali but the prince dropped his head flat to the horse and it sailed over him.
‘I’m afraid I’m going to require a little more than a spear. That can’t be worth much, even after we’ve scraped your shit off it.’
The berserk became even more enraged, charging up the beach without drawing his weapons. Vali was sorely tempted to ride him down but reminded himself that he had faith in the merits of organisation and a cool head on the battlefield. One of the reasons he’d given his gear to Bragi was that he didn’t even want the option to fight. This battle, he thought, would be won in the mind, like a game of king’s table, and he had to stick to his plan. He urged his horse a little way up the hill and then turned to see what was happening. The more sober warriors were disembarking, and he saw the banner of Haarik, king of the northern Danes of Aggersborg — the black dragon. As he’d thought: Danes fronted by local berserks. He wondered if the berserks had suggested the raid. No time to think though. He kicked the horse off at a fast walk, careful to stay out of range of the spears but not far enough away so he couldn’t be seen.
He heard the shouts behind him.
‘We will have your blood.’
‘Catch him!’
Good. He had their attention. Already Forkbeard’s hall was burning but the berserks were chasing him. Would they lead the rest of the raiders? He stopped as he left the settlement, holding up the cup again. He saw the man holding Haarik’s standard point at him, then a group of around forty warriors began to follow the berserks up the hill at the trot.