Saxon: The Emperor's Elephant (9 page)

‘What did he mean about finding Sleipnir before we came across a unicorn?’ Osric asked.

‘It was his way of saying that there’s no such creature as a unicorn. Sleipnir is the horse Odinn rides. According to the old beliefs, Sleipnir travels on eight legs.’

We were passing one of the large boat-shaped houses with a turf roof. Three men stood in the open doorway, deep in conversation. Judging by the tints of grey in their neatly trimmed beards, two
of them were in their mid-forties. Their companion was younger, perhaps in his twenties. All three were dressed in the same unobtrusive style – loose trousers of dark wool, a long shirt
belted at the waist and soft knee-length boots. Two of them were bare headed; the third wore a round felt cap with an unusual trim of alternating patches of glossy dark and light fur.

Osric nudged me with his elbow. ‘Over there,’ he murmured, flicking a glance towards the strangers.

At first sight there was nothing noteworthy about them apart from the fact that their skins were a darker shade than most visitors to the market and they appeared to be more neatly groomed.

‘Look at their belts,’ Osric prompted under his breath.

I took a second glance. Their broad leather belts were stitched with complicated interlocking red and green patterns in loops and whorls. The buckles were ornate and of massive silver.

‘Slave dealers,’ muttered Osric. There was sadness in his voice and I remembered that once he too had been traded as a slave.

I felt the pressure on my arm as he steered me so we passed close enough to the three slave-dealers to overhear their conversation.

The three men ignored us as we sauntered past and when we were at a safe distance I asked, ‘What were they talking about?’

‘I picked up a few words. Enough to guess that they come from Khazaria, well beyond Constantinople.’

‘Redwald mentioned that Saracen traders come to Kaupang to buy slaves. I’m surprised that the emperor in Constantinople allows Saracens to cross his lands to get here. They could be
spies,’ I added.

Osric grimaced. ‘Trade leaks through frontiers. Slaves bought in Kaupang can finish up serving in the palace at Constantinople.’

Presently we found ourselves in the rougher end of Kaupang’s market. Rubbish littered the ground and the buildings were even more seedy. Stray dogs, scabby and malnourished, nosed for
scraps at the side of the roadway. A group of what looked like vagrants were squatting or lying in the shade of one of the flimsy sheds. There were tear streaks on the grimy faces of some of the
women and girls, the men looked sullen and bored. They wore no chains but I knew at once that they were for sale. They could have been taken prisoner in local battles, kidnapped by slave catchers,
or sold into slavery to pay debts. I tried not to think of my own people made captive when King Offa conquered us. Most would have been allowed to stay on and work the land, paying their taxes to
their new lord, but others would have been sold. It was my good fortune to have been sent into exile.

At the far end of the roadway, at the point it turned back into a footpath, we finally found where hunting birds were sold. A dozen or so birds were fastened by cords around their legs to a line
of wooden blocks on the ground. They watched our approach with their fierce, bright eyes. The ground around their perches was soiled with their droppings. Fresh bloodstains and shreds of mouse
carcasses on the blocks showed that they had been fed recently. The smaller merlins and sparrowhawks were easy to identify, and Carolus’s mews master had taken me on a tour of the royal mews
so I was able to distinguish the big gyrfalcons from their cousins the peregrines. Disappointingly, of three gyrfalcons only one was white. The plumage of the others was patterned in dark brown and
black. They were not what I was seeking.

A whip-thin lad, scarcely ten years old, had been left in charge. Mindful that I had agreed with Redwald that he would be negotiating with the bird sellers, I contented myself with asking the
boy if he knew where I might find a man called Ohthere. My question was drowned out by a sudden furious outburst of barking. A pack of mangy dogs rushed past, nearly knocking the lad off his feet.
Their jostling and yapping disturbed the hunting birds. They fidgeted on their perches, fluffing up their feathers.

‘Where can I find Ohthere?’ I repeated. The lad had knelt down on the ground to calm the white gyrfalcon, gently stroking its plumage. When he looked up at me, I thought that he did
not understand my Saxon. The dogs had bunched in front of a stout wooden pen a little further down the road and were snapping and snarling hysterically at its bars.

‘Ohthere?’ I asked again.

The lad continued to stroke the gyrfalcon. He raised his free hand and pointed. A heavily built man, roaring and cursing, had emerged from a leather tent close beside the wooden pen. He strode
angrily towards the frenzied pack, and began laying about him with a stout stick.

Osric and I waited until the stranger had succeeded in beating back the dogs before we approached him.

‘Would you be Ohthere?’ I enquired politely. ‘Oleif said I might find him here.’

The man turned to face me, stick in hand. He was someone with whom I would avoid a quarrel. Watchful grey eyes were set in a craggy face under bushy eyebrows. He had a dense, black beard and
although he was of no more than ordinary height, his barrel chest strained the fabric of his jerkin. Muscular forearms and thick, blunt fingers grasping the stick made it clear that he was not to
be trifled with.

‘I’m Ohthere.’ His tone of voice, assured and forceful, matched his appearance.

‘I’m hoping you can tell me about the horse whale, the hross-hvalr. Oleif said they are found in the region where you have your farm.’

Ohthere studied me. I was sure he had seen the colours of my eyes, but he showed no reaction. ‘That’s right. Horse whales haul out on the beaches near me.’

‘Haul out?’

‘They clamber out of the sea and lie on the land, sunning themselves. That’s where they breed and raise their pups. What did you expect?’

‘I had hoped that they were a sort of horse, and maybe some of them have white skins.’ This time I did not want to make an idiot of myself by mentioning unicorns.

Thankfully Ohthere did not laugh. ‘They’re sea animals, big and bloated. Odinn only knows how they came to be called horses. They’re more like whales. That part of their name
is accurate.’

‘And none of them are white?’

‘Not that I’ve seen. The only white thing about them is their teeth. Great long fangs. They fetch a good price for carving into ornaments and jewellery.’

Now I knew what animal he was talking about. At Carolus’s court I had seen chess pieces, sword handles and pendants that were said to have been carved from the massive teeth of a sea
beast. An image flashed into my mind from the Book of Beasts that Carolus had showed me. As he flicked through the pages, I had caught a quick glimpse of a drawing of a great ungainly animal lying
on a rocky shore. It had a bulging body, a tail like a fish, a mournful-looking face, and drooping whiskers. It was not a unicorn, and not what the king had wanted.

Ohthere must have read the disappointment on my face. ‘I’ve heard rumours of a small whale that is as white as snow. But it’s only a rumour.’

‘Thank you for your help. I’m sorry to have disturbed you. Those dogs must be a nuisance,’ I said. Several of the curs had sneaked around behind us while we were talking, and
were again at the bars of the pen, snarling and growling.

‘If they get too close, they’ll be sorry,’ said Ohthere. ‘Here, let me show you what I’ve got inside.’ He led me over to the wooden enclosure.

It was more of a large strong cage than a pen. The sides were made of stout timber posts and a number of heavy slats had been laid across to form a roof.

I peered inside.

All that was visible were two grubby yellow shapes on the ground. At first I mistook them for a pair of large and dirty sheep, sound asleep. Then one of the shapes moved slightly and I saw a
snout with a black tip and two bright black spots. They were eyes.

‘Yearling ice bears,’ Ohthere announced beside me. Without warning he lashed out with his stick and caught one of the dogs across the rump. It ran off with a howl.

‘They don’t look that dangerous,’ I said, still gazing at the bears. They were both slumped on the ground. The two black eyes had closed.

‘That’s because they’re half-starved.’

‘How did you get them?’ I asked. I was utterly disappointed. I had expected to see a wonderful white creature like the one drawn in the bestiary. Instead, these two creatures looked
sick and feeble, and their dirty fur was the colour of urine. They also smelled of piss. I wondered what impression such dejected and mangy animals would make on the caliph of Baghdad in return for
his gift of a white elephant to Carolus.

‘The Finna traded them to me,’ Ohthere replied. ‘They had killed the mother bear. They let me have her skin as well. I’ve already sold it.’

‘Who are the Finna?’ I was already wondering if I should travel onwards and contact these people in my quest.

‘They roam the mountains and wastelands near my farm. A native people and always on the move. They come to me, asking to trade metal in exchange for feathers, horse whale teeth and skin
rope. You never know when they will turn up or what they will bring for barter. This year they produced two bears.’

Ohthere stared in at the two animals. ‘It’s been impossible to get them to eat properly. They’ll eat a couple of mouthfuls and leave the rest. I’ve tried seal blubber,
mutton fat, chicken, milk. I’d say they’re pining for their mother.’

One of the young ice bears had risen to its feet. It was somewhat bigger than I had imagined, the size of a large mastiff. It padded slowly towards the far side of the pen. The gait was strange,
sinuous and soft.

‘How big will they grow?’ I enquired.

‘If they live, they’ll be as big as their mother, and her pelt was two fathoms from nose to tail.’

‘They don’t look very dangerous.’ A dog had poked its muzzle between the wooden bars and was barking shrilly at the moving bear. Scarcely were the words out of my mouth than
the bear made a sudden pounce, lashing out with its paw. The movement was almost too quick to see. The claws raked the face of the cur. The dog screamed and fled, blood spraying from the wound.

‘You see my problem,’ said Ohthere. ‘You don’t want to get too close when you’re trying to coax them into feeding.’

‘I thought ice bears are white?’

‘In winter the fur is the same colour as the snow and ice. If they were healthy they would not look so shabby.’

‘Are they for sale?’ I asked, turning to look at him.

‘Why else would I have brought them to Scringes Heal?’ he said ruefully. ‘I was hoping that they would regain their appetites, but it seems I was wrong.’

‘I’ll make you an offer,’ I said.

Ohthere looked at me in surprise. ‘What would you want with them?’

‘I’m collecting white animals for King Carolus.’

A smile split the heavy black beard. ‘I can see you are no trader. You would not have been so honest about the identity of your client.’

He frowned at the cage. ‘Come back tomorrow at about this same time. By then I’ll have had time to think about a price. Mind you, I don’t suppose that these two bears will
survive much longer. You could finish up delivering only their skins to Carolus.’

As Osric and I walked back towards our ship, I brooded on the discouraging start to our visit to Kaupang. We had found only one white gyrfalcon for sale, and though we were lucky to have come
across a pair of ice bears, the two animals were so sickly that it was virtually certain they would die long before they could be brought all the way to far Baghdad. As for a unicorn, the mere
mention of such a creature made people burst into mocking laughter.

W
HEN WE GOT BACK
to the harbour, Redwald’s cog was already tied against the jetty. A gang of local men was helping his crew unload the cargo.
There was no sign of the knorr so she must have sailed for Dunwich. Redwald himself was at the foot of the gangplank, deep in conversation with a tall, bony man whose face seemed vaguely
familiar.

‘Find any of the animals you were looking for, Sigwulf?’ the shipmaster asked me cheerfully. Clearly he was in a good humour.

‘A single white gyrfalcon, and two young ice bears.’

‘Gorm tells me he’s hopeful of having a second white gyrfalcon for sale, but someone will have to go and collect it from the trapper.’

The tall man was a dealer in hunting birds, and now I saw his resemblance to the skinny lad who had tended the agitated gyrfalcon. They were probably father and son.

‘Unfortunately, the two ice bears aren’t at all healthy. Their owner fears that they will soon die,’ I said.

‘That’ll be Ohthere,’ said the bird dealer.

‘He’s a farmer who got the bears as cubs from some people he called the Finna,’ I explained.

Redwald laughed. ‘Some farmer! Ohthere’s farm is as far north as anyone has dared to settle, and he explored and cleared the land himself. He’s as hard as nails.’