and chew his nails on what to do next to prise the secret of treasure from me and it was clear he did not yet know Thordis could be used for it. If he found out . . .
'We will go after my sister,' Thorgunna said. I looked at Kvasir, who peered at me sideways and nodded.
I looked at Thorgunna; it was clear this was not a question.
So I nodded.
'Heya,' said Finn and I could have sworn there was joy in his voice.
4 The sea was the colour of wet slate, the spray coming off the tops of the chop like the manes of white horses. Somewhere, at that almost invisible point where the grey-black of sky and sea smeared, lay the land of the Vods and Ests.
Two days. Three days. Who knows? A day's sail from a shipmaster is how far a good ship takes to travel some thirty ship-miles — but it could take you two sunrises to do it. Gizur kept saying we were three days from the Vod coast, looking for a range of mountain peaks like the teeth of a dog, but we never seemed to get closer.
Everyone was boat-clenched, which is what happens when the weather closes in. You sink deeper inside, like a bear in winter, sucking into the cave of yourself where you hunch up and endure.
The sail was racked midway down on the mast, we were driving east and a little south with a good wind and the oars were stowed inboard, so most of us had nothing to do but huddle in our sealskin sleeping bags.
Everyone was busy, in silence, trying to keep dry and warm, while the lines hummed and the rain slashed in.
Thorgunna and the thrall women and the deerhounds huddled beside me under the little awning which was my right as jarl. Not that it gave much more than the illusion of shelter, but there was the warmth of shared bodies and the added, strange enjoyment of them being women.
I had done Botolf little favour appointing him steward in my absence — though Ingrid took the store keys from Thorgunna with a triumphant smile, which made Kvasir's wife scowl. It was bad enough what Thorgunna was leaving behind — her chest of heavy oak with its massive iron lock, filled with fine-wrought wool and bedlinen stitched by her grandmother's hands — without handing over her status in my hall to another woman who was not my first-wife. Not even my wife.
I then had to promise to get those keys back for her when we returned.
'Stay quiet, do nothing,' I advised Botolf, who was unhappy at being left behind and thought it more to do with his missing leg than anything else. I needed a level head and a brave heart, for Tor had friends in the region and there was no telling who they would blame or what they might do. Ingrid would supply the first and Botolf the second.
'I plan to deal with Klerkon, get Thorgunna's sister back, then go to Gardariki lands and find Short Eldgrim and Cod-Biter,' I explained. He nodded as if he understood, but the truth was there was as much clever in Botolf as in a bull's behind. Now and then, though, he surprised me.
'Jul Brand will have much to say on this and none of it good,' he declared. 'You should find a way of telling him how matters stand, before he takes it into his head to make you outlaw.'
Then he grinned at my astonishment.
'You should sell Hestreng to me for an acorn, or a chicken,' he added. 'Then I can sell it back when you return. That way . . .'
'That way,' I finished for him, 'Jarl Brand would spit blood at me selling that which I only hold from his hand.' He stared for a moment, then astonished me further.
'If you want Hestreng and the love of Jarl Brand,' he grunted, 'then you will have to put a rare weight in the pan to counter what he is thinking — that you lied to him about Atil's treasure and are running about frightening decent farming folk with your sea-raider ways.'
His eyes went flat, like a sea where the wind has died to nothing.
'It comes to me that you will need to travel all the way to Atil's tomb and take all the silver you can,' he added, his voice bitter-bleak because he knew he would not be part of that.
'We will go after my sister,' Thorgunna said. I looked at Kvasir, who peered at me sideways and nodded.
I looked at Thorgunna; it was clear this was not a question.
So I nodded.
'Heya,' said Finn and I could have sworn there was joy in his voice.
4 The sea was the colour of wet slate, the spray coming off the tops of the chop like the manes of white horses. Somewhere, at that almost invisible point where the grey-black of sky and sea smeared, lay the land of the Vods and Ests.
Two days. Three days. Who knows? A day's sail from a shipmaster is how far a good ship takes to travel some thirty ship-miles — but it could take you two sunrises to do it. Gizur kept saying we were three days from the Vod coast, looking for a range of mountain peaks like the teeth of a dog, but we never seemed to get closer.
Everyone was boat-clenched, which is what happens when the weather closes in. You sink deeper inside, like a bear in winter, sucking into the cave of yourself where you hunch up and endure.
The sail was racked midway down on the mast, we were driving east and a little south with a good wind and the oars were stowed inboard, so most of us had nothing to do but huddle in our sealskin sleeping bags.
Everyone was busy, in silence, trying to keep dry and warm, while the lines hummed and the rain slashed in.
Thorgunna and the thrall women and the deerhounds huddled beside me under the little awning which was my right as jarl. Not that it gave much more than the illusion of shelter, but there was the warmth of shared bodies and the added, strange enjoyment of them being women.
I had done Botolf little favour appointing him steward in my absence — though Ingrid took the store keys from Thorgunna with a triumphant smile, which made Kvasir's wife scowl. It was bad enough what Thorgunna was leaving behind — her chest of heavy oak with its massive iron lock, filled with fine-wrought wool and bedlinen stitched by her grandmother's hands — without handing over her status in my hall to another woman who was not my first-wife. Not even my wife.
I then had to promise to get those keys back for her when we returned.
'Stay quiet, do nothing,' I advised Botolf, who was unhappy at being left behind and thought it more to do with his missing leg than anything else. I needed a level head and a brave heart, for Tor had friends in the region and there was no telling who they would blame or what they might do. Ingrid would supply the first and Botolf the second.
'I plan to deal with Klerkon, get Thorgunna's sister back, then go to Gardariki lands and find Short Eldgrim and Cod-Biter,' I explained. He nodded as if he understood, but the truth was there was as much clever in Botolf as in a bull's behind. Now and then, though, he surprised me.
'Jul Brand will have much to say on this and none of it good,' he declared. 'You should find a way of telling him how matters stand, before he takes it into his head to make you outlaw.'
Then he grinned at my astonishment.
'You should sell Hestreng to me for an acorn, or a chicken,' he added. 'Then I can sell it back when you return. That way . . .'
'That way,' I finished for him, 'Jarl Brand would spit blood at me selling that which I only hold from his hand.' He stared for a moment, then astonished me further.
'If you want Hestreng and the love of Jarl Brand,' he grunted, 'then you will have to put a rare weight in the pan to counter what he is thinking — that you lied to him about Atil's treasure and are running about frightening decent farming folk with your sea-raider ways.'
His eyes went flat, like a sea where the wind has died to nothing.
'It comes to me that you will need to travel all the way to Atil's tomb and take all the silver you can,' he added, his voice bitter-bleak because he knew he would not be part of that.
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