Wolfskin (54 page)

Her eyes were frantic, though she kept her silence. “No!” she mouthed. “Eyvi, no!”

“I love you.” His lips made the words without a sound, and then he turned his back on her. “Thorvald!” he shouted. “Gudbrand, is that your voice, old scoundrel? I'm coming out; I'm weary and hungry, and I've no desire at all for a lingering death by choking. I'll hand my weapons out before me, no tricks.” He crawled into the narrow passage as the men's voices rose in startled reaction. Behind him all was silence. He came out into the light of morning, on his knees, half-blinded by the brightness, proffering sword and dagger hilt first.

“Thor's hammer, Eyvind,” someone remarked in tones of disgust, “you're not the man you once were, that's for certain.”

“Tie his hands quick,” another man advised. “Can't trust his kind.”

Eyvind put up a slight struggle; it was best that this be done quickly, yet to give in too meekly was to invite suspicion. The dog lay prone near the entry, perhaps dead, perhaps merely stunned. Eyvind did not look back at the howe itself.

“This all you've got?” Gudbrand, who seemed to be leading the expedition, stared hard into Eyvind's face as the others bound his hands tightly behind his back. “No axe, no spear? No supplies?”

Eyvind shook his head. “I came away in haste, as you know,” he said. “My own things are gone.”

“Still,” Gudbrand mused, scratching his chin, “maybe we should have a look inside. Could be a trick. Not like your kind to give up so easily. Thorvald? Why don't you go in and take a look?”

“Me?”

“Why not?”

“Ever heard what happened to that fellow from Hafnarvagr that went in one of those and scratched his name-rune on the stone? Spent the next three days babbling about ghosts and then jumped off a cliff into the sea. Come on, let's go back. There's a good pot of ale in this at least.”

“What about the dog? Didn't you say the thing was Ulf's?”

“Anyone volunteering to carry it? I say leave it where it lies. Offering for the spirits, keep them off our backs. Come on, then. Move, you!”

These men may have been his comrades once, but it was clear he was now no more to them than another captive to be harried forward at spear-point. Eyvind did not look back. He set his eyes ahead, northward to Somerled's hall, blessing each step that took them farther from the place where Nessa still hid in shadows. They had not found her; she was safe for now. He must hope that she could go on alone and complete the mysterious task she had spoken of. At least, now that he was recaptured, there would be no need for Somerled to send warriors out in great numbers scouring the countryside. Nessa had at least some chance of evading the few who would still patrol what had once been the borders of Engus's kingdom. As for himself, despite the terror of seeing her so close to capture, his heart was whole again: he bore the sweet memory of last night within him, and it seemed to him that talisman had the power to arm him against much. It would be back to the little cell, he supposed, back to the darkness and the company of his own thoughts. So be it; if he must break out again, he would, no matter what guard they set on him. He'd have to let them
hold him a few days at least, so Nessa had time to get away, time to do the thing she had to do before his own escape drew forth pursuit once more. Then he would go back to the old plan, to seek out Eirik. Perhaps he would find Nessa again, drawn to her side by whatever ancient power had sent the two of them to find refuge in the selfsame hidden place, on the selfsame night. That could hardly have been chance. If those forces were kind enough to lead him to her again, he would not leave her. He would do all that was in his power to keep her safe from Somerled. Time, that was all he'd need, enough time. As they marched northward, his guards now grimly silent, Eyvind planned it out in his head, imagining the musty outhouse where he'd been locked up before, picturing where they might deploy an increased guard, working out how long he would wait, this time, before making his move, and what path he would follow to come back to the south undetected.

But it seemed they were not taking him to the isolated farm hut that had held him before. The group was passing to the west of that place, skirting wide around the fields that fringed Ulf's burial mound, then curving northeastward again to make their way straight toward the settlement and Somerled's hall. Eyvind held his silence. It was clear to him from the disapproving scowls of his escort that useful information was unlikely to be forthcoming. He knew what was in their minds. To defy your chieftain's orders and turn against your own forces was bad enough. But what sort of warrior surrenders with no resistance at all, merely for the sake of a warm bed and a joint of mutton? Their eyes told him their opinion. He whom they had once admired, envied, even idolized, was now sunk as low in their estimation as a worm beneath the boot heel: lower, even, because of what he had once been. His shame had robbed them of words.

The sight of the settlement wall, the calls of sentries, brought light back to their eyes and grins to their faces soon enough. Gritting his teeth, Eyvind let them drag him into the enclosure with more than a few glancing blows to ear and jaw inflicted on the way. They tied him to a post while Thorvald went ahead into the hall; it was not long before this new captive attracted a crowd, folk muttering and whispering at first, then jeering and shouting insults as confidence grew. Someone spat in his face. Eyvind held himself still and quiet. His mind showed him small images: Nessa sleeping, a standing stone, dark under the moon with the glittering lake water beyond, a lone, pale beach where slow waves washed the sand. He breathed carefully; there were parts of him that hurt from blows received during that long walk north, blows he had chosen not to return. It was important to
stay alert and save what strength he had. These men did not matter. Only Somerled mattered. At the back of the group that now surrounded him, their taunts increasing in the face of his own silence, he saw Grim, a tall, broad figure clad in wolfskin and woolen tunic, the hammer slung on his back. A clever blow, that had been; Grim had known just how hard to strike, to stop but not kill him. He thought neither Holgar nor Erlend had shown such judgment. Still, one could not know who was a friend and who an enemy. Good and bad had become blurred on this island since Ulf's death. And Grim, too, had charged across the causeway that morning to hew men limb from limb, to part head from shoulders.

Someone threw an egg; it cracked on Eyvind's cheek and splattered across face and neck.

“Enough!” Grim's voice was deep and rough like the growl of a bear; folk fell silent. “What are you, some rabble starved of cheap entertainment? Take this man inside; get him cleaned up before Somerled sees him. A fellow's got the right to be heard before you set him up as a figure of fun, hasn't he? Now get out of here; I feel the itch in my fingers for a little hammer play, and right now I'm not particular who's in my way.”

The enclosure cleared as if by magic, leaving Eyvind and his captors. Grim looked on with a heavy frown. He wasn't talking now. He stared at Eyvind, and Eyvind glanced back at him, and thought he saw the smallest of nods from the bearded warrior before Grim turned on his heel and tramped off indoors. Then Gudbrand was tugging on the ropes that bound his prisoner, and he was hauled away.

Inside, he was conveyed none too gently to the quarters where he had once slept with his fellow Wolfskins, but nobody seemed to be prepared to unfasten the tight bonds that tied his hands behind his back, nor to tend to the cuts and bruises on his face, nor to offer a clean tunic or a bowl of fresh water. He waited, standing very still in the center of the room while his captors conferred in low voices. A hearing, he thought, that would be the next thing. They'd lock him up for a while, and then he'd have to walk out in front of everyone and say what he had to say with neither evidence nor witnesses. This wasn't how it was meant to be; he'd just have to do his best. At least he was buying time for Nessa. He wondered where she was now. He wished she would slip onboard a fishing boat and go off to the outer islands, where Somerled's hand had not yet tightened its grip on her people. This new king would be busy enough establishing his realm of Hrossey without turning his attention to the far-flung remnants of the Folk on Sandy Island or West Island or the smaller, remoter places. But Nessa
wouldn't go; he knew her. She was a leader. She would not rest until she had completed the task she had spoken of. He hoped it would not bring her here to the settlement. He did not want her to be here, so close to Somerled.

“Right,” said a voice from the entry. “The king wants to see him straightaway. In his own quarters. Alone.”

“Alone?” Gudbrand scowled. “That's hardly wise. A guard or two inside the chamber, surely?”

“Alone, and now,” said Thorvald, who had brought the message. “That's what he said.”

At the entry to Somerled's private quarters, which had once been his brother's, stood Holgar and Erlend, one on either side of the doorway. Erlend stepped forward, seizing Eyvind by the arm, and jerked his head at Gudbrand in dismissal.

“That'll be all,” he snarled.

Gudbrand hesitated; perhaps his mind was on the reward.

“What's the matter? Lost your hearing suddenly?” Holgar loomed up behind Erlend, frowning ominously, and all at once there was nobody left but the three Wolfskins.

“Says he'll see you on your own,” Erlend muttered, avoiding Eyvind's eye. “Not very sensible, if you ask me.”

“Just don't try anything.” Holgar's voice had an edge to it; he seemed ill at ease, jumpy. “We'll be right outside the door. No tricks. We know them all.”

The length of thick woollen cloth that hung across the entry was drawn aside.

“Eyvind is no threat to me.” Somerled stood there, his expression calm, his voice tranquil. He was plainly dressed in dark tunic and trousers, his hair gathered neatly back by a scarlet cord. “We're like brothers. You know him less well than you think, if you imagine he'd ever raise a hand to me. But, by all means, stay out there if it makes you feel better. Down the hallway a little, if you please; this conversation is private. Come in, Eyvind.” He stepped back, and Eyvind walked into the chamber. “Oh, and by the way,” Somerled had put his head outside again, “tell someone we need a bowl of warm water and a cloth. And I think a jug of ale and a bite to eat wouldn't go amiss either. Those who treated this prisoner so ill have erred; tell them that hasn't gone unnoticed.” He pulled the curtain firmly closed.

Eyvind waited. This was not at all what he had expected, not after that bloody dawn at the Whaleback, and Somerled's challenge to him. This game seemed to have no rules at all.

Somerled regarded him gravely. “You don't look well, Eyvind,” he observed. “Let's get these cuts cleaned up, at least. Turn around.”

Mutely Eyvind obeyed. He felt the light, deft touch of Somerled's fingers as the rope which bound his hands was untied.

“There,” said Somerled, rolling the cord into a neat coil. “Now, sit down, and we'll talk a little. It's good to see you, old friend, no matter what has passed between us. I've missed you; so much is new here, and strangely enough I find I don't particularly enjoy doing it all by myself.”

Eyvind sat. His arms ached; red welts made broad bracelets nearly a handspan wide around his wrists. His hands were shaking; he clasped them tightly together and made himself breathe slowly. A man sidled in with water and a small towel; another brought a tray with roast meat and a jug of ale. Somerled filled two goblets.

“You're very quiet,” he observed.

“I don't know what to say to you.” Eyvind looked into his old friend's eyes. He could read nothing there but anxious concern. “I don't know where to start.”

“Here, eat and drink a little. Let me tend to those cuts first; there's crusted blood all down your cheek and across the brow, not to speak of what looks like egg yolk. You've managed to surprise me, Eyvind. The man who brought the news said you gave up without a fight.”

“I'm tired,” Eyvind said. “It seemed to me there was nowhere else to run to.”

“But you escaped my custody. Where did you imagine you were going?”

Eyvind did not reply. He would not mention Eirik or Thord; he would not speak of Brother Tadhg. No need to draw others into this. What he must do, he must do alone.

Somerled damped the cloth, dabbed at the wounds on Eyvind's face. After a while he said quietly, “You can talk to me, Eyvind. I'm not some monster, you know. I am your friend as I always was; like you, I swore to be loyal above all else. That's why you are here alone with me, not dragged forth to account for your actions before the whole court. I want this settled properly, and I want to protect you if I can. Here, drink this ale, you look like a walking ghost. That's it. And eat. I suspect you've had nothing at all today. The men are angry; you cannot expect them to treat you kindly. They saw the way you defied my orders. They saw the way you stood against your own comrades.”

Eyvind felt confusion and doubt creeping back into his mind; his hand shook, and he set the ale cup down. “What do you mean, protect me?” he asked. “I've come here to tell the truth, that's all.”

Somerled was watching him closely. “Truth?” he queried, brows raised. “Which truth is that? The same you were shouting that morning when you came back from the dead? Unfounded accusations wholly without proof, the rantings of a man driven out of his wits by long captivity and torture? You may choose to call those ravings truth, but I am king here, and these men follow me. On these islands, mine is the only truth that counts.”

Eyvind drew a deep breath. Thor's hammer, his wrists felt as if naked flames licked at them. “So, you expect our people to follow a man who murdered his own brother?” he asked. “It seems to me you have let nothing and no one stand in the path that leads to your desires. I'm not sure you understand what you have done.”