the Britons.'
‘And they're all thieving bastards, the lot of them,' Leofric said. He looked at me and
grinned. 'So if Alfred won't go to war, we will?'
'You have any better ideas?' I asked.
Leofric did not answer for along time. Instead, idly, as if he was just thinking, he
tossed pebbles towards a puddle. I said nothing, just watched the small splashes, watched
the pattern the fallen pebbles made, and knew he was seeking guidance from fate. The Danes
cast rune sticks, we all watched for the flight of birds, we tried to hear the whispers of the
gods, and Leofric was watching the pebbles fall to find his fate. The last one clicked on
another and skidded off into the mud and the trail it left pointed south towards the sea.
'No,' he said, 'I don't have any better ideas.'
And I was bored no longer, because we were going to be Vikings.
We found a score of carved beasts' heads beside the river beneath Eanceaster's walls, all
of them part of the sodden, tangled wreckage that showed where Guthrum's fleet had been burned
and we chose two of the least scorched carvings and carried them aboard Eftwyrd. Her prow and
stem culminated in simple posts and we had to cut the posts down until the sockets of the
two carved heads fitted. The creature at the stern, the smaller of the two, was a gape mouthed
serpent, probably intended to represent Corpse-Ripper, the monster that tore at the dead
in the Danish underworld, while the beast we placed at the bow was a dragon's head, though it
was so blackened and disfigured by fire that it looked more like a horse's head. We dug into
the scorched eyes until we found unburned wood, and did the same with the open mouth and when
we were finished the thing looked dramatic and fierce.
'Looks like a fyrdraca now,' Leofric said happily. A fire-dragon.
The Danes could always remove the dragon or beast-heads from the bows and sterns of their
ships because they did not want the horrid-looking creatures to frighten the spirits of
friendly land and so they only displayed the carved monsters when they were in enemy
waters. We did the same, hiding our fyrdraca and serpent head in Eftwyrd's bilges as we went
back down river to where the shipwrights were beginning their work on Heahengel. We hid the
beast-heads because Leofric did not want the shipwrights to know he planned mischief.
'That one,' he jerked his head towards a tall, lean, grey-haired man who was in charge of
the work,
'is more Christian than the Pope. He'd bleat to the local priests if he thought we were
going off to fight someone, and the priests will tell Alfred and then Burgweard will take
Eftwyrd away from me.'
'You don't like Burgweard?'
Leofric spat for answer. 'It's a good thing there are no Danes on the coast.'
'He's a coward?'
'No coward. He just thinks God will fight the battles. We spend more time on our knees than
at the oars. When you commanded the fleet we made money. Now even the rats on board are
begging for crumbs.'
We had made money by capturing Danish ships and taking their plunder, and though none of
us had become rich we had all possessed silver to spare. I was still wealthy enough because I
had a hoard hidden at Oxton, a hoard that was the legacy of Ragnar the Elder, and a hoard
that the church and Oswald's relatives would make their own if they could, but a man can never
have enough silver. Silver buys land, it buys the loyalty of warriors, it is the power of a
lord, and without silver a man must bend the knee or else become a slave. The Danes led men by
the lure of silver, and we were no different. If 1 was to be a lord, if I was to storm the
walls of Bebbanburg, then I would need men and I would need a great hoard to buy the swords and
shields and spears and hearts of warriors, and so we would go to sea and look for silver,
though we told the shipwrights that we merely planned to patrol the coast. We shipped barrels
of ale, boxes of hard-baked
‘And they're all thieving bastards, the lot of them,' Leofric said. He looked at me and
grinned. 'So if Alfred won't go to war, we will?'
'You have any better ideas?' I asked.
Leofric did not answer for along time. Instead, idly, as if he was just thinking, he
tossed pebbles towards a puddle. I said nothing, just watched the small splashes, watched
the pattern the fallen pebbles made, and knew he was seeking guidance from fate. The Danes
cast rune sticks, we all watched for the flight of birds, we tried to hear the whispers of the
gods, and Leofric was watching the pebbles fall to find his fate. The last one clicked on
another and skidded off into the mud and the trail it left pointed south towards the sea.
'No,' he said, 'I don't have any better ideas.'
And I was bored no longer, because we were going to be Vikings.
We found a score of carved beasts' heads beside the river beneath Eanceaster's walls, all
of them part of the sodden, tangled wreckage that showed where Guthrum's fleet had been burned
and we chose two of the least scorched carvings and carried them aboard Eftwyrd. Her prow and
stem culminated in simple posts and we had to cut the posts down until the sockets of the
two carved heads fitted. The creature at the stern, the smaller of the two, was a gape mouthed
serpent, probably intended to represent Corpse-Ripper, the monster that tore at the dead
in the Danish underworld, while the beast we placed at the bow was a dragon's head, though it
was so blackened and disfigured by fire that it looked more like a horse's head. We dug into
the scorched eyes until we found unburned wood, and did the same with the open mouth and when
we were finished the thing looked dramatic and fierce.
'Looks like a fyrdraca now,' Leofric said happily. A fire-dragon.
The Danes could always remove the dragon or beast-heads from the bows and sterns of their
ships because they did not want the horrid-looking creatures to frighten the spirits of
friendly land and so they only displayed the carved monsters when they were in enemy
waters. We did the same, hiding our fyrdraca and serpent head in Eftwyrd's bilges as we went
back down river to where the shipwrights were beginning their work on Heahengel. We hid the
beast-heads because Leofric did not want the shipwrights to know he planned mischief.
'That one,' he jerked his head towards a tall, lean, grey-haired man who was in charge of
the work,
'is more Christian than the Pope. He'd bleat to the local priests if he thought we were
going off to fight someone, and the priests will tell Alfred and then Burgweard will take
Eftwyrd away from me.'
'You don't like Burgweard?'
Leofric spat for answer. 'It's a good thing there are no Danes on the coast.'
'He's a coward?'
'No coward. He just thinks God will fight the battles. We spend more time on our knees than
at the oars. When you commanded the fleet we made money. Now even the rats on board are
begging for crumbs.'
We had made money by capturing Danish ships and taking their plunder, and though none of
us had become rich we had all possessed silver to spare. I was still wealthy enough because I
had a hoard hidden at Oxton, a hoard that was the legacy of Ragnar the Elder, and a hoard
that the church and Oswald's relatives would make their own if they could, but a man can never
have enough silver. Silver buys land, it buys the loyalty of warriors, it is the power of a
lord, and without silver a man must bend the knee or else become a slave. The Danes led men by
the lure of silver, and we were no different. If 1 was to be a lord, if I was to storm the
walls of Bebbanburg, then I would need men and I would need a great hoard to buy the swords and
shields and spears and hearts of warriors, and so we would go to sea and look for silver,
though we told the shipwrights that we merely planned to patrol the coast. We shipped barrels
of ale, boxes of hard-baked
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