Shieldmaiden (25 page)

The man's home was in a small side street. It was in poor repair, the thatch hung like a wet, shaggy mane over the eaves and the upright timbers were rotting at the base. He led me inside and in the faint light of a small fire I saw one child curled up on a pile of straw and two others sit huddled together next to him. All three were dirty and dressed in rags. The sick boy was asleep. Or so I thought at first. A slight tremble of one eyelid gave him away.

‘My wife died and now my only son is struck down. Please Father, heal him.'

I made the sign of the cross over the boy and wondered what else to do. I knelt beside him and put my hands together and pretended to pray. From inside the depths of the hood I got a view of the room. Rough plank floor, one stool, a few pots and pails, baskets and leather pouches hanging from pegs on the walls. It spoke of poverty and neglect. I turned my attention on the boy. He was dirty and unkempt but his round cheeks had a healthy blush under the grime.

‘It's the fever, isn't it Father?' The poor man wrung his hands. I flapped my sleeve in the direction of a bucket and a small bowl. The man stared and did nothing. Trying to keep my hands concealed I rose and got some water. I took Ansgar's silver cross and dipped it in the water a few times, each time nodding and rocking as if I was chanting a wordless spell. Then I made the sign of the cross over the boy and threw the bowl of water on his face. The little rascal leaped up with an outraged scream. He stared at me with pale eyes, coughing and spluttering to get his breath back.

‘A miracle!' His father threw his arms in the air before collapsing in a heap at my feet. He kissed the muddy hem of Ansgar's habit: ‘Thank you Father, thank you, thank you!' He rose and hugged the boy. ‘My son,' he sobbed rocking from side to side, ‘my son cured by a miracle.' Over his shoulder the boy fixed me with a malevolent stare. I made for the door but the man called out and again grabbed hold of my sleeve. He held up a small coin. I shook my head.

‘But Father, I must know your name so I can tell of the miracle you performed.' Having no other way of communicating with him I again shook my head and pushed him aside. He cried out and to soften my roughness I made another sign of the cross. I stumbled out of the door and walked as swiftly as the slippery walkway allowed. This was to no avail. The grateful father pursued me down the path shouting for all to hear about the miracle of his son's recovery. I increased my pace until I was running. Once back on the main road I dipped behind a cart and slipped into the shadows between two houses. I waited for him to pass first one way then the other.

It was getting dark by the time I crossed the bridge and approached the gates. They were about to be barred and one side was already closed. There were few travellers left and they were impatient and pushed and shoved to get through. I tried to walk as if I was in a hurry but not so fast it would look suspicious. I had to join the crowd at the gate as it was pulled to. It was hard to see from inside my hood but I couldn't afford to risk anyone catching a glimpse of my face. I was pushed by a burly farmer squeezing past. One of the guards shouted at him and he stopped to apologise. I shrank further into the hood and waved an empty sleeve to show he was forgiven. Otherwise the guards took little notice of me except two of them bowed their heads in respect as I passed. My spine tingled with the anticipation of being called back. I was a couple of spear-throws beyond the gate when I heard the distant noise of horns, hounds and shouting. The alarm had been raised. Ansgar had been found. I invoked the protection of Odin for him, hitched up his habit and ran.

20.

I arrived at the camp to find everything packed and my companions waiting.

‘Ansgar, but where is…?' Ragnar's voice cracked, betraying his anguish and I smiled and removed the hood. ‘Odin's beard, it's you! Sigrid, at last! I gave a blood-sacrifice to Thor to keep you safe. We hear too much about this king and his wife.' Ragnar held me close for a brief moment. ‘No time to talk now. We must hurry or the tide will be gone and the ship will sail without us.'

The ship Cloudrider was beached, on its own, behind a bend in the river. In the pale light of the setting summer sun I saw the fearsome carved head of a dragon with fire in his eyes and sharp teeth in his open mouth. This ship was as large as any I had seen in the estuary before the battle of Brunnanburh. While our baggage was loaded and Kveldulf and Olvir settled onboard I slipped behind a clump of reeds and swapped Ansgar's coarse, black habit for a spare dress of my own. So it was as a respectable widow I greeted the chieftain, Gunnar Sigfusson. He stood taller than most men, broad-shouldered with the dark, brooding face of one capable of great violence. His ships-master looked younger but bore the marks of someone who had seen many battles. They both treated me with respect.

‘Better not mention Brunnanburh,' whispered Thorfinn. ‘They both fought there but on the other side. Not that I'm frightened but we are greatly outnumbered. They weren't keen on the children but I mentioned your royal connections and Gunnar Sigfusson decided we might be useful to him. It seems he intends to stop in Norway for a while.'

I was allocated space for myself, Olvir and Kveldulf in the middle of the ship among all the chests, barrels and leather sacks holding treasure, goods to trade and supplies for the voyage. Our horses had to be left behind due to the heavy cargo. A man came with us from the town and paid a good price when confronted with so many swords. Ragnar, Thorfinn, Anlaf and Ulf were to join the crew for the journey and each had an oar to power until we were under sail.

Gunnar seemed in a hurry to leave Jorvik. He decided we would take advantage of the light evening and start our voyage straight away. This brought remonstrations from others since a couple of men still hadn't returned from the town. Gunnar looked around and conferred with his ships-master. The sky was clear, the wind favourable, Niord, god of the sea and Thor who ruled the wind and waves, were sending us an omen that it was a good time to set off. The helmsman called directions to the oarsmen. Some of the men began humming and others joined in a tune that followed the rhythm of the oars.

We followed the River Ouse to where it joins the Humber. Then we moved with the evening-tide out towards the open sea. Gunnar stood in the prow looking out for waves breaking on shallows and rocks. I leant against a bale of hides and cradled Kveldulf in my arms. Olvir snuggled up to me and fell asleep. I lifted my face to the sky and allowed tears of relief to run down my cheeks. In the dim light from the moon only one man noticed. Ragnar smiled and winked at me. He looked relaxed and happy pulling at his oar. I wiped my tears. I worried about brother Ansgar. He was so trusting. I knew that Archbishop Wolfstan was more than able to protect him against Eirik but I had glimpsed the evil in Gunnhild and feared for my friend.

The crew took it in turns to row through the night with Gunnar setting the course by the stars. When the sun crept above the horizon, Kveldulf was the first to wake. He looked around him and squealed with delight:

‘Mummy, look! Big boat.' This woke the warriors nearest to us and one of them sat up and muttered about women and children on war-ships. I was grateful we were placed so my four companions were two on each side of me. For the first time I began to think of them as my body-guard. Then I looked down the rows of oarsmen in front of me and behind me. There must be at least thirty pairs of oars. Even with their mailshirts and helmets stowed away in their sea-chests the men looked fearsome, each carrying the scars and wild demeanours of seasoned warriors. What could my four do against them all?

I looked at the broad back of Gunnar Sigfusson, who stood in the prow in the same position I had seen him last night. He said something to one of the oarsmen, who got up and took his place. Gunnar turned round and I got a proper look at him. He was built to instil fear, dark and solid, with a broken nose and eyebrows shadowing his raven's eyes. He made his way along the crowded hull towards me and with a trembling hand I felt for my knife. He knelt next to me, stretched out a large, hairy finger and tickled Kveldulf 's chin.

‘Well, here we have the seed of a true Viking. So you like riding my plank-horse, little man.' He looked at me and one of his eyebrows sat high in his forehead as he smiled. ‘You may need to tether him to the mast. We have made enough sacrifice to Niord in the past. We don't want to give him our future as well.' Then he left me and went to the stern, where he lifted his tunic and pissed in a great arch over the side of the ship.

The rest of the crew followed his example, as did Olvir. Ragnar held Kveldulf so he could do the same. I began to wonder how to manage my own needs. In the small knorr with my father at the helm I would stick my rump over the side in the stern and hold on to the rudder. One look at the helmsman put me right off that idea. I appealed to Ragnar who confirmed this was the best way unless I wanted to use a bucket.

‘Just remember to empty it out on the leeward side,' he said and laughed.

I found one of the pails and spread my cloak around me for a little privacy.

Olvir didn't like the sea. While we followed the coast northwards, keeping just in sight of the shore, he kept asking why we couldn't sail closer to land. The dolphins and porpoises leaping and playing in the ship's wake held his attention only temporarily. He grew ever more anxious as the last of the land sank below the horizon, the gulls abandoned us and the water became free of seaweed. He sat with his back to the mast where he knew he was out of the way and his face took on a pale greenish hue. The puppy, Striker, also didn't like the sea and lay like a dishevelled rag on Olvir's lap. They looked a thoroughly miserable pair. To distract Olvir, Ragnar gave him some wood and suggested he should carve himself a set of hnefatafl figures.

‘But how you'll manage once the wind picks up and we're on the open sea, I don't know,' he said with a shake of his head, ‘we haven't even started off yet.' There was a shade of ‘I-told-you-so' in Ragnar's voice which was not lost on Olvir and he set his mouth in a determined line, put Striker down and began whittling.

Kveldulf loved the ship and we had to lengthen his tether to allow him to get to the side, where he stood on Ragnar's sea-chest and laughed as the salty foam sprayed his face. Gunnar Sigfusson was greatly amused by him and the rest of the crew began to talk about him as a token of good luck. They passed him from hand to hand along the ship so he could stand in the stern patting the neck of the dragon and encourage it to fly across the waves. Then they passed him all the way back and he took his turn by the tiller, his little hand resting on the helmsman's huge paw.

During the first three days the weather was sunny with just enough wind to fill our sail and give us comfortable speed. The oars were stacked in the middle of the ship and the covers lowered over the oar-holes. Ragnar and the rest of my ‘body-guard' engaged in swapping stories of their adventures with the crew. The child in my womb was growing and becoming more active and I was happy to rest. I spent my time dozing and talking to Olvir who gradually became used to the movement of the ship and began to resemble his old self. He had finished the figure of the king for his hnefatafl and we borrowed a board and the rest of the pieces from Gunnar and spent many hours playing. Olvir had a good understanding of the strategy of the game and captured my king time and again. This was noticed and soon there were others who challenged Olvir to a game. He was very successful and in the end Ragnar explained that to win all the time might earn him enemies as well as friends.

On the fourth day of our journey, clouds formed on the side where the sun sets and the wind increased. The waves grew white foam on top and Cloudrider rolled and dived among the watery troughs and peaks. This time it was not only Olvir who felt bad. Anlaf and Ulf both spent time hanging over the side throwing up and so did a good dozen of the crew, some of them veterans of many voyages.

‘They'll get their sea-legs in a day or two,' said Thorfinn and patted his step-son on the back.

Soon rain began to soak through our clothes. The helmsman beckoned to me to bring the children to shelter in the low space below his steering platform. We wriggled in and lay there looking out on the rows of oarsmen. Kveldulf kept up a cheerful chatter about all he saw. We sheltered there for a long while and night settled over our heads. The wind kept increasing. The rigging wailed and whined and the sail bulged full to breaking point. The helmsman struggled to keep us riding into the waves.

‘Too much strain,' he called, ‘reduce the sail by half.' Before anyone could act, there was a sharp crack. He swore and shouted: 'The rudder's gone! Reefe the sail! Oars out!'

Bereft of the rudder, Cloudrider swung broadside to the mountainous waves. I screamed and clutched my children to me as the ship listed, ready to topple over and spill us all into the foaming sea. Frantic activity broke out among the crew. A dozen oarsmen tried to keep the ship facing the wind. They had little success and she rolled violently with each wave. Others lowered the yard and tried to gather the rain-heavy sail.

Kveldulf, too young to sense danger and ever inquisitive, asked: ‘Mummy, what are they doing?'

I swallowed bile and tried to sound confident: ‘They lower the yard to make the sail smaller so we won't go too fast. And look at Gunnar! He's mending the rudder. No Kveldulf, you can't go and look. You'd be in the way. Stay here and hold on to Striker.'

Gunnar leaned dangerously over the side of the ship, half in half out, trying to replace the broken leather thong which held the rudder in place. Two of the crew held on to his belt to stop him falling overboard as wave after wave crashed over his head threatening to drown him. Some of the men began a chant to Odin, Thor and Niord and soon they all joined in. Kveldulf hummed along trying to make out the words. Olvir retched and cried. I held them both, feeling sick to death and wishing for the end to be swift.