Catla and the Vikings (9 page)

Catla sat and watched as people circled Edith and the stack of weapons. The tree sheltered them from the western sun and dappled their faces as their eyes focused on the jumbled mass of weapons. Edith handed Sven a short stabbing knife and gave him another to pass to Catla. It was the one she had first picked up. Edith smiled when Catla called her thanks.

Hugh said, “Edith, are you putting extra weapons aside for those who are not here?”

Edith's eyes smiled as she looked up at him and said, “Yes, m'lord.” She made a slight bow. People laughed. They'd noticed the other pile of weapons by her side.

Hugh looked slightly abashed. He squeezed her shoulders and said, “It's hard to get ahead of you, m'lady.” A few people chuckled because Hugh seldom made an error. He only called her m'lady for a bit of a joke, even though everyone knew Hugh and Edith were welcomed at court and she was entitled to the honor. Catla watched the easy manner they had with each other. They were not fierce like her parents were sometimes. Their voices held respect and care, and smiles were often ready on their faces. She wished her marriage, when it came, would be like that. Olav didn't fit Hugh's pattern, and while she worried about what she would find when she got back to Covehithe, she remembered her vow to marry him if her family was safe. Even so, the idea made her slightly queasy. She pushed the thought aside and wished she were on her way home. Everything was dragging, and every minute her family was held captive was a minute too long.

When the weapons were dispersed, someone said, “What about the women and children at the hill fort? They'll want to know what's happened and that we're about to leave.”

“Theodore's already gone,” Hugh said.

Catla was surprised that Hugh had chosen Theodore. She thought he was too young, even though he was tall for eleven summers.

Then Edith said, “Good choice. He's young but he knows the land. He's worked with the herders and shepherds for the last few years. Good with his catapult too.”

Matthew, his father, nodded his agreement and said, “I won't boast, but he's a canny lad.” People smiled their approval. Obviously no one else was worried that Theodore was too young for the job.

Hugh said, “He and Brida will join us at the standing stones tonight. Wulfric will stay at the hill fort and see to things there. Are we still in agreement to sell our invading guests to the king?” The word
guests
was spun out with a twist and brought a loud laugh.

“Some guests! Who invited
them
?” Hindley quipped as he spun around and pointed at Catla. “Did you?”

“No, no, of course not,” Catla sputtered, flinging her hands up in protest. Then she laughed along with the rest of the villagers at the ridiculous idea.

“String them all up by their necks,” someone shouted.

“Sell them,” Matthew said.

Catla struggled with her feelings as she listened to the debate. She feared the invaders and hated them for raiding her village. The smoke and flames rolled into her mind's eye along with the small figure clutching the woman's leg. Her mouth suddenly had a sour taste. But did she want them killed? Hugh had shown compassion and respect by bringing their leader to the dying man. But they were still the enemy.

“I thought we'd agreed we'd do that too,” Fergus said.

“Murdering heathens!” Hindley yelled.

“Dead men don't make good slaves,” Hugh said. “This raiding party is likely part of the Covehithe group. I'm guessing the leader of this group is not acting on their king's orders.”

“How could he be? Their king died on the battlefield,” Matthew said. “Most of them have gone home with their wounded.”

“It appears,” said Hindley, “that some of them ‘forgot' to go home. They'd be the ones in the goat pen.” Jeers and laughter followed his words.

Catla's head swam as she tried to keep up with the various opinions. She wanted to yell,
Just get on with it! This is nonsense! Covehithe needs us
. But she didn't. Hugh knew speed was important. She needed patience. She dug her fingers into the palms of her clenched fists in an effort to be still.

“They'll make good slaves! We'd be fools not to collect credits for them now, especially when the king needs oarsmen. They'll fetch a good price.”

In the end, it was agreed to take them to Covehithe; none were to be killed. They might know of missing friends and relatives and could be questioned along the way.

At last
. Catla checked the sun. It was past short-shadow time, so there was plenty of light yet for walking.

“Bring them here, Matthew,” Hugh said. “Check their knots. We want no more escapes. We leave for Covehithe now. Those Norsemen will expect their comrades next day. We'll get there before that, late this night. The dark will hide us on the last part of the way. Let's use the light we have left now.”

Edith called out, “Bring food. Fill your drinking horns and bring extra ones if you have them. There's water on the heath, but the ale is cleaner. At the signal, come back. Be quick.”

Sven said, “On the way, Catla and I will tell you our plan. Catla only knows part of it because I haven't told her about getting into Covehithe using a way I know. We'll talk as we walk. We'll be at the standing stones while it's still light.”

One older villager growled, “Who does he think he is? He can't tell us what to do.”

In her mind, Catla agreed. Sven hadn't talked to her about any plan, and she felt annoyed. She had a plan of her own to use the path she'd taken the few times she'd ventured out after dark. The path was secret, known only to her family.

Hugh put his hand on Sven's shoulder and said, “Good idea, Sven.”

Catla knew she'd have to speak up if her plan was to be heard, but now was not the time. Now was the time for leaving. They'd talk as they walked.

The prisoners arrived from the goat pen. Some villagers formed a guard. A rope looped around the first prisoner's neck was fastened to the neck of the man next in line, and so on, until all were secured together. Their hands were tied in front so they would have better balance. The hobbles around their legs were lengthened for faster walking.

One of them smiled and nodded at her. Did he think he knew her?

She looked more carefully. He nodded again.

Her head jerked back in annoyance. Who was he?

She flipped her hair and turned from him.
Late tonight, the dark will hide us
. Catla ran Hugh's words around in her head. She'd see her family tonight. Her spine tingled and her feet jigged a few small steps. She pushed worrisome thoughts away. She'd keep the image of them safe and well. For the first time in a long time, her smile started on the inside before it showed on her lips. “Thank you, thank you,” she murmured, hoping some gods were listening.

CHAPTER TEN

Recrossing the Heath

Catla pictured again the way she'd greet her family. She'd cuddle Bega and rest her chin on her sister's soft brown hair.

Clang!

Someone hit the iron hoop and the sound shattered the image as she jumped, startled by the noise. Then she imagined her father's voice teasing her.
Come on, Catla, join the real world
.

“Thanks, Matthew,” Hugh said. “That should bring everyone. The prisoners look secure.” Some Norsemen stood with eyes lowered to avoid more jabs with the staves. Others returned glare for glare, defiant even in defeat.

A low voice growled in agreement. “Aye, they're secure all right and they don't appreciate our attention.”

Catla peered into the crowd, wondering who was talking.

“Godrim always has something to say.” A voice at her side supplied the answer to her unspoken question. She turned, delighted to see Edith.

“Look at them,” Edith said to her. “They're a proud people, not used to being prisoners, except perhaps in war. It must hurt their pride to be captured by a bunch of villagers they expected to take easily as slaves.”

“Are you suggesting we feel sorry for them?”

“No, Catla, no, of course not. I'm not sorry for them, not a bit. They brought this on themselves. It only reminds me that no one knows their own fate.”

Catla gave herself a small shake to ease a sudden shiver.

“But then, you know that better than I do. Look at the way your life changed during a morning walk.” Edith's hand clasped Catla's forearm in a light grip. “Forgive me. Am I upsetting you? Sometimes this old woman likes to muse.”

“No. Besides, you're not old.” Catla's mother talked like that sometimes, as if she saw things from a long way off, not caught right up in the middle of it. “Mother says things like that too. Father calls it fey time.”

She pondered what that would be like, to be fey, to glimpse a world that is hidden from most folks. She hoped it would come to her. A chill puckered the skin on her arms, and she felt a pang of longing for her mother.

Edith voiced the words softly. “Fey time. I like that. I'll tell Hugh. I have much in common with your mother. I know you are anxious, Catla. Come, we'll join Sven so we can hear the new part of his plan.” Before Catla could protest that she had a plan too, her hand was in Edith's. They scurried around the outskirts of the crowd to join Hugh. Edith's callused palm felt warm and firm against her own. The next time she had a chance to hold her mother's hand she would not shrug it off.

“We'll talk along the way,” Hugh said, “and get our plan in place.” Then he raised his voiced and called, “We're off. Covehithe before dawn.”

Rufus, the blacksmith, shouted, “We'll show those barbarians that we Saxons know something about fighting too.”

Catla cheered with the rest of the group, and then, in a surge, they set off. The villagers close to the prisoners brandished their staves, but the prisoners did not lag. Perhaps they were eager to get to Covehithe too.

Some people dodged their way to the front.

“Keep us in sight,” Hugh called.

They waved, plunged over a small hillock and set off running toward a stand of elms.

“Are your legs tired, Catla? You've walked a long way this day.” Sven moved to walk by her side.

“No, I'm fine.” She smiled at him, warmed by his concern for her. “I'll be all right, but it is the farthest I've walked in one day. How about you? You were in York the day before we met. You've traveled even farther.”

“I can cover a lot of distance in a day if I keep a steady pace. I'm used to it, but you're not.”

The twist to his mouth and the way he emphasized
you're
made Catla glance at him sharply.

“It seems like a good pace,” Sven said, “but we can slow down. For you too, Edith. We can slow right down for the two of you.”

Catla shot Edith a questioning glance, and the twinkle in Edith's eyes confirmed that Sven was teasing. Sven turned his face, but Catla glimpsed his grin. Retaliating, she and Edith thumped his arms and shoulders, Catla trying to contain her giggles without success.

Sven turned back to face them, holding up his hands. Now he was laughing aloud. “All right, all right, stop now! I take it back. You are both very strong, fast walkers.”

“Louder,” Edith said. She reached up and grasped his ear between her thumb and forefinger and raised her voice to say, “Everyone needs to hear you.”

“These two women are the fastest walkers in the world.” Sven bellowed and some people turned to see what was causing the ruckus. Villagers smiled and shook their heads.

It had been a long time since Catla had laughed. She felt lightheaded and giddy.

“Did everybody hear that?” The volume of Edith's voice matched Sven's.

All around the group, villagers nodded and called back, “Yes!”

“Aye, Edith!”

“You're a fast walker, and so is Catla.” Matthew chuckled as he said it.

When Edith seemed convinced Sven had suffered enough, she turned him loose and gave his ear a rub, then said so softly Catla almost didn't hear, “I hope I didn't hurt you.”

“No, you were pretty gentle.” Sven smiled at them. “I had it coming, and besides everyone needed a bit of a laugh, especially the two of you. You looked so serious.”

“You two are ready for jesting at court,” said Catla. Sven had been trying to relieve her low spirits, a side of him she had not seen before. “I know I've been gloomy,” she added. “How do you stay lighthearted and optimistic? Aren't you worried about your father?”

“Yes, Sven,” Edith said, “what about your father? You haven't talked about him.”

“He wasn't in Covehithe when the Nord-devils came. He'd gone north a few days before the Norse fleet landed and sacked Scarborough. He's courting a woman who lives there, so he's frequently away from home these days. I don't know where he is now.” Sven looked pensive.

“It's not good to keep all your worries to yourself. Talk if you want to,” Catla said. “Remember the way you coaxed me to talk this morning.”

“Thanks.” Sven's smile was crooked. “He is all I have since Mother died. I pray that he is safe. I wish I knew where he was.”

“I know how you feel,” Catla said. “I hope he's all right.” Sven's words sobered her, but she felt lighter after her laughter. She was on her way home. She turned and glanced back at the village.

With the dogs at the hill fort, Aigber was silent. It squatted in the warm sun. Not even a chicken scratched in the dirt. A sense of foreboding filled her mind. What would remain of Covehithe? It was harder and harder for her to imagine life continuing there, but she hoped Aigber would always be the peaceful place she'd first seen.

Her shadow stretched out in front, jostled by others of the same length. The sun would stay visible above the rim of the world for a long part of the walk. An occasional elm and oak tree towered over elder bushes. The air was soft and she felt calmer and happier than she had since she first saw Covehithe burn.