Daughter of Fire and Ice (5 page)

Read Daughter of Fire and Ice Online

Authors: Marie-Louise Jensen

Tags: #Juvenile Fiction, #General, #Historical

BOOK: Daughter of Fire and Ice
7.09Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

Bjorn sighed. ‘This will be dangerous. But if we stay here, we’ll certainly be caught. I’m afraid for you, Thora. You’re just a child.’

I looked up at him. ‘I’m fifteen winters,’ I told him. ‘Grown up and nearly as old as you, I’d wager.’

‘Well, you’d lose. I’m twenty-three winters old.’

Faintly in the distance, I heard the sounds of voices and I thought my ears caught the ring of iron on iron.

‘It’s got to be now,’ I whispered. A feeling of danger, of panic, pressed in on me. ‘I can sense the soldiers coming.’

‘Very well, then, listen,’ said Bjorn, pulling Svanson’s cloak from the horse. ‘My one skill, and it’s a poor one, is voices. As your father said, I’m a storyteller. I can imitate Svanson, as long as they don’t see me.’

He flung the cloak around his shoulders. It swept the ground, but the light was poor and no one would notice the ill fit. He pulled the hood up so that his face was entirely in shadow and then held up a piece of rope. ‘Do you mind pretending to be bound again?’ he asked. ‘It would be more realistic if anyone wakes.’

Bjorn tied my hands loosely at the wrists, and looped the rope across the horse’s withers. ‘Can you free your hands if you need to?’ he whispered.

‘Yes,’ I said, testing it. My wrists were sore and the rope chafed them, but I could slip them out.

‘Good. Now promise me something.’

‘What?’

‘Promise me that if this goes wrong, you’ll run for your life. Promise you won’t think about me.’ Bjorn’s voice was earnest and he gripped my hands painfully tight as he spoke. My heart gave a strange lurch.

‘There’s nowhere to run,’ I whispered. ‘The soldiers have reached the top of the cliffs.’

Bjorn exclaimed under his breath and then vaulted onto the horse’s back. We moved forward swiftly but quietly towards the shore, the horse’s hooves scrunching softly on the stones, while I walked beside it, praying to Eir to watch over us.

The shapes by the fire didn’t stir. I could smell the smoke of the campfire and hear the low pop of the burning embers.

I could feel my heart thumping and my mouth was dry. I was afraid now, but I breathed deeply and slowed my heart rate as Sigrun had taught me. It’s important to show no fear even when you feel it, I reminded myself. I could sense that Bjorn was jumpy beside me. If this went wrong, we would both be put to the sword.

I swallowed, terrified. I could feel the tension building up in me. Was I mad to be attempting this? I thought longingly of my father. Had he made it past the army, or had he been caught?

We reached the small boat that lay half in, half out of the water.

‘So far so good,’ murmured Bjorn. With a swift glance at the sleeping men, he slipped down out of the saddle and reached a hand into the boat to feel for the oars. He drew his hand back with a gasp of shock that was loud in the still air and made me jump. I had even more of a fright a moment later as a dark shape rose up out of the boat. I fell back but Bjorn stepped forward and grasped the man, clapping a hand over his mouth.

‘Not a sound from you,’ he hissed. ‘You can take us out to the ships. If you do it quietly, I’ll reward you well.’

The man nodded. I could see the whites of his eyes, wide in the darkness.

‘What’s your name?’ asked Bjorn, lifting his hand from his mouth.

‘Erik,’ gasped the slave hoarsely.

‘Then hurry, Erik, for the soldiers are coming,’ said Bjorn, and released him. Erik climbed out of the boat and throwing his weight against it, gave it a push towards the water. The boat moved with a dreadful grating, crunching sound against the stones. The noise was like a thunderclap in the still air. I heard Bjorn catch his breath. One of the men by the fire stirred, mumbling something in his sleep.

‘Is that you, Bjorn?’ a drowsy voice called.

‘Yes, it’s me,’ called out Bjorn in Svanson’s thick voice. I thought it sounded convincing, but my heart was hammering with fear now.

‘Where in the name of Thor have you been all day? We had to do all your work for you.’

The man threw his furs aside and staggered to his feet while speaking. He started stumbling towards us. Bjorn stayed still as a statue beside the horse. I stood beside him, head downcast, like a properly subdued slave, and tried to master my fear. Erik gave the boat another push, so that it floated. Then he stood there in the shallow water, waiting, holding the boat.

Meanwhile the newly-awakened man came up to us and stared at me. ‘Where’s the other one?’ he asked stupidly. ‘The man you took.’

‘Threw him over the cliff,’ said Bjorn with relish.

‘Ha! But you’re not going out to the ship now are you?’ asked the man, obviously confused. His voice was slurred with sleep and mead, his footsteps unsteady. ‘Come and lie by the fire with the rest of us. It’s not too late to drink your health.’ The man burped loudly and patted his belly.

‘I’ve got this one to see to first,’ said Bjorn. As he spoke, he tugged at the rope that bound me and I staggered against him. He put an arm around my shoulders, steadying me against him, so that I didn’t fall. To the other man, it clearly looked like an amorous embrace, because he leered at us.

‘Let the slave take her out to the ship,’ said the man. ‘Why trouble yourself now?’

‘She needs taming,’ Bjorn said. ‘Right now.’

I fell to my knees beside him. ‘No, please, my lord Svanson,’ I begged. It wasn’t difficult to sound afraid.

‘Get up, woman,’ Bjorn snarled, leaning down and grasping my hair and pulling me to my feet. The pain of it made my eyes water, and I whimpered, hoping I was playing my part as he wanted me to. I wished the other man would go away, but instead he laughed coarsely, stepped closer and grabbed my arm, pulling me against him. He smelt as if he hadn’t washed for several weeks.

‘Bring her to the fire and we’ll all help you,’ he suggested, squeezing me. I shrank back against the horse, trying to get away from him. I was no longer feigning fear. It was real now. I could hear the other men waking up. This was all going horribly wrong.

‘Leave her alone,’ ordered Bjorn angrily and gave the man a shove. My heart jumped into my mouth. He’d forgotten to use Svanson’s voice. The man peered curiously up at him.

‘What’s bitten you?’ he asked. ‘You don’t usually mind sharing your wenches. I’ll hold her down for you if you like…’

Before he could say any more, Bjorn had pushed him out of the way so hard that he stumbled and fell to one knee. Then Bjorn was dragging me towards the boat, leaving the horse behind. The water was icy cold against my legs as we waded into it and I began shivering with a mixture of cold and terror. Bjorn picked me up and threw me into the boat, jumping in after me. The boat rocked and swayed.

‘Row, for Thor’s sake,’ Bjorn ordered Erik urgently. Erik immediately jumped into the boat, fitted the oars and began to pull on them. I could hear shouts from the shore now and realized the men’s suspicions were aroused.

‘What are we going to do?’ I whispered urgently to Bjorn. ‘They suspect us … ’ I broke off, aware I was betraying my terror.

‘Tell them … ’ whispered Erik, but then paused, looking frightened.

‘Tell them what?’ hissed Bjorn.

‘Tell him he can have her after. It’s what Svanson’d say. That man is Thorbjorn.’

I realized with a shock that Erik knew that Bjorn was not who he pretended to be. But he was choosing to help us.

Bjorn stood up in the boat and hailed Thorbjorn who was standing staring after us.

‘Hey, Thorbjorn,’ he sneered, in Svanson’s voice. ‘You can have her after me. What’s left of her.’

Another of Svanson’s companions had woken and joined Thorbjorn on the shore. He chuckled deep in his throat at Bjorn’s words.

‘And then me next,’ he called. But Thorbjorn didn’t laugh. He started talking to the other man, gesticulating and pointing. The other two men joined them. They were all staring at us, sinister shadows in the dusky light. I began to whisper prayers to Eir and Freya, my hands tightly clenched in my lap. They would come after us, I was certain of it. I didn’t dare think about what they might do if they caught us.

‘Trouble,’ Bjorn muttered. ‘Is there another boat, my friend? Can they follow us?’

‘Depends,’ puffed Erik. He began to cough, a deep, racking cough that shook him so that he had to pause in his rowing. Bjorn took the oars from him and Erik moved out of his way.

‘Depends on what?’ Bjorn asked as he pulled the oars in a steady rhythm.

‘On where the second boat is,’ Erik said, catching his breath. ‘It’s usually out by the other ship, but I think I saw them haul it onto the beach tonight.’

Bjorn cursed under his breath. ‘We should have taken that one, too,’ he muttered.

‘Have you had that cough a long time?’ I asked Erik, unable to prevent myself, even in the midst of a crisis, from noticing the ills of others.

‘Since last winter,’ he said. ‘Why?’

‘I can give you something that might clear it,’ I told him.

There was no time for him to reply. We reached the largest of the two ships, just as we heard the tell-tale crunch and splash of the second boat being launched behind us. Svanson’s friends were coming after us. We were running out of time.

Bjorn swung himself aboard and then reached down to grasp my wrists, pulling me onto the deck after him. Erik was about to follow when Bjorn stopped him.

‘No,’ he said. ‘Go to the second boat. Tell them to man the oars and make ready to follow us out of the fjord. King Harald’s army is on our heels. We’re leaving now.’

Without a word, Erik dropped back into the boat and hauled on the oars again. The sound of oars splashing was coming closer behind us. Svanson’s friends began to call out:

‘Svanson, what are you doing? What’s going on?’ I heard Thorbjorn shouting.

I looked up at Bjorn, desperate to know what we should do, relying on him to take charge. How could we get away fast enough?

Bjorn was looking around the ship we now stood on. In the semi-darkness, many pairs of eyes were watching us. Most people were bound, one large man wasn’t. He stood staring at us from under bushy brows. Svanson’s two dogs appeared from behind him and approached us. One lowered his head, flattened its ears and gave a low, rumbling growl. I felt sick with fear. I’d forgotten the dogs.

‘Quiet, boy!’ ordered Bjorn at once. The first dog seemed to recognize the voice, and abased itself, whining softly. But the other dog came closer, sniffing at Bjorn’s hand. It clearly smelt something wrong, despite the fact that Bjorn was wearing Svanson’s clothes. It growled and then let out a deep, angry bark. Bjorn kicked out at it and ordered it to lie down. It did so, but continued to growl low in its throat. I could feel myself shaking. What if the dogs attacked us?

‘Your own dogs don’t know you, Svanson,’ remarked the tall man suspiciously.

‘Stupid brutes!’ Bjorn managed to sound completely indifferent. I wondered how he was staying calm. My own mouth was so dry, I wasn’t sure I could speak at all. This must be the captain, but we didn’t even know his name.

‘Set the slaves to the oars,’ Bjorn ordered him. ‘We’re leaving at once.’

‘What?’ The captain sounded outraged. ‘In this light? Do you want to get us all killed?’

‘Are you questioning my orders?’ demanded Bjorn angrily.

‘We don’t even have all the slaves here yet,’ argued the captain, sounding stunned. ‘They’re arriving tomorrow. There aren’t enough people on board to row.’

Bjorn and I were both silent, shocked by this news. It was completely unexpected. What should we do now?

‘How many are there aboard?’ Bjorn demanded.

‘Only nine … and there are fourteen pairs of oars.’

My heart missed a beat. We were trapped aboard the ship with no escape route while the king’s army closed in. We’d be caught. I thought of my father and wished I’d gone with him. I was close to panic now, and forced myself to remember my vision. We were going to escape. I just couldn’t see how.

Bjorn drew himself up to his full height.

‘Those men on shore are traitors. They’ve betrayed me to King Harald, told lies about me, and his army is arriving as I speak. We could hear them as we left. They want these ships for themselves. I suggest we man four pairs of oars and go. But if you think it’s safer to sit about and wait for them to catch us, by all means do so.’

He paused a moment, staring at the captain. His face was hidden in his hood, but it seemed to me all too obvious he was an impostor. I clenched my fists, willing the captain to do as Bjorn ordered, to obey him. Bjorn spoke again. ‘I heard them planning to slit your throat,’ he told the captain deliberately. ‘Is that what you want?’

This seemed to galvanize the captain into action. Without another word, he began to move along the deck untying the slaves and ordering them to the oars. Feverishly, Bjorn and I began to do the same on our side of the ship. I kept glancing over the side at the small rowing boat.

‘It’s getting closer,’ I whispered to Bjorn as he passed. ‘What do we do?’

‘Hurry,’ he said in an urgent undertone and I could hear that he was not as calm as he pretended. Frantically, I tugged at the knots that bound the slaves. Who had tied them so tightly? We would be lucky if they could use their hands at all. It was almost as though time had been slowed down on board the ship, while it continued at its normal pace on shore. Svanson’s men were hurrying towards us and the army was moving ever closer. Whose side were the gods on tonight?

As I freed the last woman on my side of the ship, I could suddenly clearly hear the sound of men marching. I looked towards the shore and saw a column of flaming torches held aloft. They were approaching fast. The army was pushing on through the night to try and cut off Svanson’s escape. I prayed they were too late.

I wasn’t the only person to have seen them. There was a flurry of activity on board as the slaves hurried to the oars. The captain called one away to help him weigh the anchor. Bjorn took his place and grasped his oar.

‘For Odin’s sake, Bjorn,’ I hissed in his ear. ‘Svanson would never demean himself like that!’

‘Thora,’ muttered Bjorn, through clenched teeth. ‘This is life or death!’

Other books

New York Christmas by New York Christmas
Star Trek by Glenn Hauman
Two to Conquer by Marion Zimmer Bradley
101. A Call of Love by Barbara Cartland
Family Life by Akhil Sharma
The Birth Of Eve by Hoy, E. S
Saltar's Point by Ott, Christopher Alan
First Time by Meg Tilly
The Tennis Party by Sophie Kinsella
The View from Mount Joy by Lorna Landvik