The Falcons of Fire and Ice (43 page)

The lad was shrieking for help and even as we watched, we saw them tying his wrists to a long length of rope which they evidently meant to fasten to the horse.

‘If they leave him to search the building, we might be able to creep over and cut him loose,’ I said.

But before I could even think of a way to reach him, a horse came galloping round the corner of the building, the smoke and scarlet flames from the rider’s torch streaming out behind him like a banner. As the horseman passed the entrance to the byre, he tossed his blazing torch into the straw. The flames ran swiftly across the floor, then roared upwards as the whole byre ignited at once.

‘Look at the roof,’ Vítor whispered. I followed his finger. Behind the byre, flames were starting to curl up through the turf roof of the hall. Dense smoke rose into the air as the turfs smouldered from the heat beneath.

Beside me in the darkness, I heard Ari cry out in horror.

‘They’ve fired the whole building,’ I breathed. ‘They must have set the hall ablaze from inside.’ A terrible chill went through me. ‘Isabela and the women are in the store chamber. The fire will spread along the beams. They’ll be trapped. We have to help them.’

‘The Danes are waiting for us to do just that,’ Vítor said. ‘The moment you go out there you will be captured just like the boy.’

‘But we can’t just leave her. We have to get her out.’ I started up, but someone grabbed my arm and twisted it, forcing me to the ground.

I felt a knee in my back pressing me down. Vítor bent his mouth so close to my ear I could feel his hot breath on my skin. ‘They won’t let you get within shouting distance of the farm. We need an accident, remember. Think about it. Her blood will be on the hands of the Danes, not yours. I have made it easy for you.’

I was struggling to fling Vítor off, but with the full weight of his body pressing down on my back, I was as helpless as a trussed chicken.

Fausto scrambled to his feet. ‘I’m not just going to sit here and watch her die, not my Isabela. I won’t. I have to try, I have to!’

Ari tried to grab him and pull him back down behind the bushes, but Fausto shook him off and the next minute he was running back towards the farmhouse, crouching low, trying to keep to the shadows. The flames from the burning house were now so high that they bathed the whole meadow around it in an eerie red glow. We could feel the heat from it even where we lay. We could see the dark outline of Fausto running towards the back of the building. It looked for a moment as if he was going to reach it, but the Danes must have had men watching.

A cry went up which carried even over the roar of the flames. Two men came galloping around the side of the building towards Fausto. We saw the glints of their blades, blood-red in the firelight, as they raised them. They drew level with him, one on either side. Fausto raised his staff and swung at one of the riders, but the second rider thrust his sword into his back at full gallop. For a moment Fausto was thrown clean off his feet with the force of the blow, his back arched in agony, and then he crumpled and fell without a cry.

As Fausto was slain, the farmstead, as if it could bear no more, surrendered itself to the ravenous fire. With a thunderous crash the roof caved in and flames shot high into the air. Red and golden sparks from the burning turfs and hay drifted over us in the dark sky, falling to the earth like rain.

I stared at the inferno, numb with horror. I couldn’t take it in, but even as I watched, unable to speak or move, I knew that nothing … nothing could remain alive inside that tangle of burning wood and flames.

Eydis

Imp –
to mend the broken feathers of a hawk. A wooden imping needle, whittled from a piece of twig, is inserted in the hollow shaft of the broken feather, to which a previously moulted feather can be glued, enabling the bird to fly.

The corpse is healing now. I watched and waited for three days, turning the pot containing the severed head in the embers of the fire, until the flesh and bone were dry enough to pound to pieces. I knew they sat with me in the shadows, the old woman and Valdis. As mourners we waited, we watched not to see life depart, but restored. The draugr watched too, and he is afraid. I can breathe his fear.

I ground the old woman’s skull into a fine powder in my mortar and pestle. I mixed it with the fox fat, blessing the hunter who had brought me a jar of it as an offering. Dried primrose, burnet, root of bistort and seeds of lupin, these too. And when all was infused into the fat, I spread the ointment on the wounds of the corpse, anointing also his lips and tongue, his nostrils, ears, hands, feet and genitals. Now his skin is flushed with blood and his chest is rising and falling. But he does not open his eyes or stir. How can he? For the spirit which animates the body remains inside my dead sister, mocking me through her lips, watching me through her eyes.

A spasm of pain shoots through my head, and for a moment I can see nothing. As it subsides, I know it is the girl. I feel her terror. I feel the cold breath of all those who follow her, like a mountain stream running through my fingers. Valdis’s head turns towards me. The black eyes search mine, trying to find a way into my thoughts. The draugr knows that something is wrong. He knows I am losing her.

I take up my lucet and weave the cord as rapidly as my fingers can move.

‘Rowan, protect her. Fern, defend her. Salt, bind her to us!’

His laughter rolls around the cave, but I will not be silenced.

Ari is scrambling down the rocks. I know his tread well by now, but he is not alone. Others descend cautiously, cursing in foreign tongues as their feet slip or they bang an elbow on the sharp rocks. I pull the veils over our faces and retreat to the shadow of the far corner of the cave to wait.

Ari leads two men into the cave. They gaze around them in clear amazement. The taller of the two bends down and touches the rock he is standing on as if to assure himself it really is warm. He is a handsome man, with thick black hair, a straight, elegant nose and eyes of such startlingly deep blue that he might have plucked them from the sea. The smaller of the two is pale beneath his dark stubble, and his dark eyes move restlessly around as if he is trying to memorize every detail of the cave. Like Ari, both men are covered in mud and splattered with blood, though it is not their own.

I step from the shadow as Ari gestures to me. Looks of utter horror and revulsion pass across the two men’s faces. They gaze open-mouthed at me. A throb of shame runs through me, as if we are girls again being stared at by mocking children. The Icelanders who come to the cave have known us all their lives and their faces no longer betray the disgust they feel. Until a stranger reminds us, it is easy to forget that we are not like other women.

‘Eydis, this is Vítor and this is Marcos.’

The taller of the two, the one named Marcos, makes a gallant effort at a bow, though he cannot tear his gaze away from me. The other, Vítor, makes no effort to acknowledge me, but watches me warily as if I am some loathsome creature who might savage him.

‘They’re foreigners, fell foul of the Danes, and Fannar was hiding them. But the Danes raided the farmstead looking for them and burned it to the ground. There was another lad with them, Hinrik, but the Danes caught him and took him off with them. I’m sorry, Eydis … I didn’t know where else to bring them.’

‘Does this Hinrik know about the cave?’

‘I never told him, and Fannar and Unnur would never speak of you or the cave in front of strangers.’

‘And Fannar and Unnur, and the girls, where are they?’

Ari hangs his head miserably. ‘I don’t know. I thought I saw Fannar running from the house, but I lost track of him in the dark. The women took refuge in the store room, but … the fire …’ He shakes his head as if trying to dislodge the image from his mind. ‘Now that these men are safe, I’ll go back and search for the bodies. Bury them. They deserve that much at least.’ His fists clench. ‘Unnur was a good woman and I’ll not leave her or her children for the foxes and the ravens to pick at.’

‘You cannot return yet,’ I tell him as gently as I can. ‘The Danes will question this Hinrik and will show no mercy. It will not take them long to discover who has escaped them. Even now they will be searching for the three of you. If you leave here you will be caught. You might even be seen leaving the cave and lead them straight here. Patience, Ari. You must rest and take some food so that your wits are sharp when you return to the light.’

‘I can’t rest! What if Fannar is lying hurt somewhere? He’ll think I’ve abandoned him.’

‘He knows you, Ari. He trusts you to protect his guests, even before the lives of his own family. That is the old way, the code of honour he has always lived by.’

Ari will stay. Like a faithful dog, he will carry out what he knows to be Fannar’s wishes, even if it costs him his life. But he is young and headstrong. The frustration will gnaw at him until he cannot bear it. No matter what the danger, I will not be able to contain him for long.

We sleep fitfully, eating when we wake, then sleeping again. Though Vítor sleeps soundly, several times I notice Marcos lies awake staring miserably up at the flame of the lamp, the glitter of tears in his eyes. Several times I rise quietly to anoint the corpse of the draugr.

And each time I rise I knot a few more lengths of the cord. Her footsteps have fallen silent. She is drifting, tossed like a gull on the wind of a storm. Without the girl, the ghosts will not come to help us. The mountain is calling and every day the voice of the pool grows stronger, the monster beneath more restless. The great black beast of death stretches his leather wings.

I wake again to see Ari returning from the mouth of the cave. He holds up his hand as if swearing an oath.

‘I haven’t been out. I just went into the passage to look up at the cave entrance to see if it’s morning or night. It’s dark again. A whole day gone.’ He kicked a stone savagely. ‘How can you bear this? How can you even tell whether it is day or night, or how many days have passed?’

‘We sleep when we are weary, eat when we are hungry. We are not governed by the moon or mastered by the sun, schooled by the rain or herded by the wind. When we first came here we ached to feel the sun again, to see the first snow fall in winter and run in bare feet on the new spring grass, but eventually we came to learn that there is a kind of freedom in being outside the rule of time.’

‘Don’t you long to leave this cave? I couldn’t bear to be shut up here alone for days on end, never mind for years. I’d go mad.’

‘Madness is an escape which is not as easy to accomplish as you might think, Ari. But you will not be here for years, not even for many more days. We will hide you here for as long as we dare, but there is another danger greater even than the Danes. The pool is –’ I hold up my hand. ‘People are climbing up the mountainside towards the cave.’

Ari darts towards the two sleeping men and shakes them awake. He gestures to them and they spring up, one grabbing a sword, the other a staff.

‘Ari,’ I whisper urgently. ‘Follow the ledge beside the pool. We have not been able to go far along it, because of our chains, but we were told it leads to a second cave. Take care not to slip; the water has grown much hotter since you were last here.’

Ari nods and beckons to the two foreigners to follow him.

‘Eydis, Eydis,’ the dark voice murmurs. ‘You are wasting your time. You can’t hide those men, those Papists. Don’t you think I will sing out and tell the Danes exactly where they are? You can’t silence me. The Danes will kill them and they deserve to die, you know that, Eydis. They’re going to die.’

I close my eyes and concentrate on trying to sense who is approaching the cave. Feet are scrambling on the stones above. Familiar voices call out softly.

Fannar comes round the side of the rock carrying his younger daughter, Lilja, in his arms. Three women crowd in behind him, his wife Unnur, their elder daughter Margrét and a girl.

I know her face. I have seen her standing at the end of the tunnel in the black mirror. The blood pounds in my head. It is the girl I have been waiting for. The cord has drawn her here at last. She has come! She has come to us. I can scarcely take my eyes from her. I see the shock in her face as she catches sight of me, but there is no disgust in the look, only sorrow as she stares at the iron band around my waist.

Fannar lays his daughter carefully down on the floor of the cave. There is a deep cut to her shin, which is bruised and swollen. Fannar tenderly smoothes her tangled hair. He has suddenly turned into an old man, his face drawn, his hand trembling with fatigue.

‘Eydis, we have …’ he begins.

I shake my head. ‘Save your strength. Ari has told me what happened.’

Despite his exhaustion, Fannar’s eyes light up with hope. ‘Ari has been here? He is safe? And the three men, the foreigners, did he speak of them?’

‘See for yourself, Fannar.’

I drag my chain to the ledge and call out the news of Fannar’s arrival. Moments later I hear the men edging back along the ledge towards us.

‘Slowly, slowly, do not slip!’ I warn.

Ari is moving far too hastily in his anxiety to see Fannar. My warning goes unheeded. Ari springs from the ledge and grasps Fannar in a great hug, both men clapping each other on the back and swearing that each believed the other dead.

Marcos, when he steps rather more gingerly from the ledge, stares around in bewilderment, then a look of utter joy fills his face and he runs to the girl, clasps her waist and, lifting her off her feet, whirls her around.

‘Isabela, Isabela!’

She is startled and quickly wriggles from his grasp. So that’s the way of it, he loves her, and she doesn’t know it.

Vítor steps unhurriedly down. He too is smiling, but the smile does not reach his eyes. It does not take the gift of second sight to tell he is not pleased to see the girl.

Fannar greets both men warmly in turn. His relief is plain to see. Then his expression turns grave again.

‘Where is Hinrik and the other man, Fausto?’