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  ‘Yes, mmm, yes, I suppose it’s possible. Gudrun looked a bit like that when she was young. The same stubborn set of the mouth, yes.’

  I tried to control my anger at her arrogance but could feel my cheeks burn. She noticed and laughed. Then she let me go and went to sit by my uncle.

  ‘Gifts,’ he said and pointed to where they lay discarded on a chest.

  ‘Yes,’ Gunnhild didn’t look at them. ‘Well, what does she want?’

  King Eirik shrugged his shoulders.

  ‘We haven’t quite got to that yet.’

  He leant back in his chair, stretched out his legs and it seemed he was handing over to his wife.

  ‘I have no errand but to pay my respects. I am recently widowed and headed for Norway to look for my mother. I am told she was taken there and I wish to join her.’

  ‘Alone?’

  ‘Yes, apart from a small retinue of travelling companions.’

  ‘Who are these companions?’

  ‘Neighbours.’ I offered no further information. Gunnhild became impatient.

  ‘But do tell me about these neighbours.’

  ‘Oh, just a couple of young men looking for adventure.’ I felt sweat moisten my brow and my mouth dry up.

  ‘Adventure? I assume you mean they look to join some chieftain or other. Well, how fortunate. My husband is looking for a crew. They would not get such a good opportunity in Norway, I’m sure.’

  ‘They are bound by their promise to accompany me to Norway, after that I don’t know their plans.’

  ‘Why risk the journey? You don’t even seem sure whether Gudrun is alive. We can offer you the safety of our home. There are plenty of noblemen who would be happy to offer marriage to the niece of the King of Northumbria.’

  ‘I’m not looking for a husband. I have vowed to find my mother. I…I… had a dream, where she called for me.’

  She was making sport with me, like a cat playing with the mouse before closing in for the kill. I tried to control my trembling hands, while cursing my decision to call on these two. Gunnhild leant forward in her chair.

  ‘So you will have your son with you then. I’m surprised you didn’t bring him to receive our blessing.’

  ‘I have not brought my son. I left him in the care of his grandmother.’

  ‘Ah, ha, ha. Now would that be the mother of your deceased husband or the mother of the man who sired the child?’

  Oh, how she enjoyed letting me know the depth of her knowledge. King Aethelstan had listened well when I told him what had befallen me since my father’s death and he had passed it on to this evil woman. I decided there was nothing to be gained by allowing her to continue to mock me and I stood up.

  ‘I have called on you because, when I heard my uncle and his wife were here, I thought it my duty. I am grateful that you have received my modest gifts. With your permission, I will now return to my camp.’

  ‘Oh, but I don’t think we have had the pleasure of your company for long enough, not nearly long enough, dear Niece.’

  She waved a bejewelled hand to one of her maids and ordered wine. As the maid left, I saw Ansgar sidle out in her wake.

  ‘Eirik, dear Husband, don’t you think we should invite these companions of Sigrid’s to join us?’

  ‘Aunt, Uncle, your graciousness is appreciated but a visit here is too exalted for the simple farm-boys I have with me. They are in my service only until I find my mother.’ I remained standing.

  Gunnhild gave me one of her chilling smiles. She looked at me with the eyes of the falcon she was said to turn herself into at will, small, dark, ruthless eyes. I tried to look away from them but couldn’t. They bored into my skull. I felt the tug of her mind as she searched for my secrets. I trembled with the effort of keeping my thoughts hidden. We were locked in silent struggle until my uncle cleared his throat. Gunnhild shrugged, the corners of her mouth twitched.

  ‘I must insist you stay in the safety of our court. I cannot allow you to go. Your farm-boys shall find adventure with the King’s fleet. And, my dear niece, we shall send for your son and let him prosper under our protection.’

  Her words made me shiver as if a cold wind had swept through the room. I must get Kveldulf to safety. She knew I had brought him. She would have him to foster. She would poison his mind. I would lose him for ever. I stuttered:

  ‘Your kindness is overwhelming but as I explained, I must go.’ I moved towards the door. I lifted the bar. The door swung open and I stepped outside. Two halberds, wielded by tall warriors, crossed in front of me.

  ‘Come back inside and close the door. You’re letting the heat out. It’s a chilly day.’

  I went back and faced her. ‘Am I a prisoner?’

  ‘Ungrateful! Stubborn and ungrateful, just like her mother.’ With that the Queen stood, waved at her husband to follow her and left. The door closed with a doom-laden bang, I heard a bolt sliding into place and I was alone.

  I tried to look out of the thin slits in the walls. On one side I saw the courtyard, where warriors in armour filed into the giant hall. On the other side I saw the town stretch in front for many furlongs. I began to shiver. I saw no way out. The wind-eye in the thatched roof was too high for me to reach and even if I could get up there, how would I get down from this cloud-scraper? I sat in the low chair Gunnhild had used. I paced back and forth. I thought of Kveldulf. Were they looking for him? Would they find him? What possible use could he be to them? I might be useful as a peace-weaver, a tool to bind a family to them by marriage, but my son, what did they mean to do with him?

  I was a long time there in the cave-like little room, working up a furious fear for the future. Then I heard movement outside. Voices, indistinct men’s voices. The bolt was drawn back and the door opened. A hooded figure slipped in and closed the door behind him. Brother Ansgar began to untie the rope he used as a belt.

  ‘We must swap clothing, Sigrid.’

  ‘We can’t do that! What will happen? They might kill you!’

  ‘No, Wolfstan will look after me. He’s the Archbishop. He has power over Eirik. This is the only way. You go. I stay. Hurry! The King and Queen are in a meeting. You must be out of here by the time it’s finished. Will you hurry, Sigrid!’

  I had never heard Brother Ansgar raise his voice before and the effect was ridiculous. I sniggered but did as he said. Ansgar slipped behind the high back of Eirik’s chair to remove his habit and handed it over with a thin, pale arm. I removed my pinafore and my pleated linen dress, picked up the habit and slipped it over my head. The coarse wool scratched my bare skin and I thought Ansgar had the better part of this deal. I pulled the cowl over my head and made to go, but then I hesitated:

  ‘I can’t leave you here, Brother.’

  ‘You must. Don’t worry, I’m Aethelstan’s clerk. Wolfstan won’t let anything happen to me. Now listen carefully.’ He explained how to get back to the camp and admonished me not to remain in Jorvik over night. He made the sign of the cross. I tried the door. It opened and I slipped out.

  The guards were leaning against the wall and took no notice of me. As I passed they secured the door again and Ansgar was locked in. I trod carefully down the hated steps and drew a deep breath as I reached the ground. The soldiers opened the gates without looking at me. A monk’s habit was an excellent disguise in this town and in the gathering dusk I soon jostled with the crowd leaving the town before the gates closed for the night. I got as far as the bridge over the rive Ouse before I was accosted.

  ‘Father, please Father.’ A ragged man in Saxon clothing threw himself in front of me and grabbed my sleeve. Nobody took much notice but I figured they soon would if the man discovered that this father was a woman. I made a fist as the man fumbled for my hand and began kissing it.

  ‘Please Father, I have a sick child at home. The brothers at All Saints ask too much money and I am a poor man. The gates of St Mary’s are closed for the night. My only son…’

  He looked up at me and I withdrew my head inside t
he hood. I made the sign of the cross over him. If I spoke at all I would have to say prayers and I didn’t know any. I put a finger of my free hand in front of my face, hoping the man would understand me to have taken a vow of silence. Then I walked away from him. He got up, grabbed my sleeve and tried to pull me along with him. This got the attention of the guards at the end of the bridge and they started to move towards us. The man, oblivious to their presence, continued to whine and beg. The guards increased their pace. One of them shouted something and the other drew his sword. I could fool the gibbering wretch at my feet but I would not be able to fool the guards. I turned my back to them, nodded at the man and allowed him to lead me away from the bridge towards the town I was escaping from.

  The man’s home was in a small side street. It was in poor repair, the thatch hung like a wet, shaggy mane over the eaves and the upright timbers were rotting at the base. He led me inside and in the faint light of a small fire I saw one child curled up on a pile of straw and two others sit huddled together next to him. All three were dirty and dressed in rags. The sick boy was asleep. Or so I thought at first. A slight tremble of one eyelid gave him away.

  ‘My wife died and now my only son is struck down. Please Father, heal him.’

  I made the sign of the cross over the boy and wondered what else to do. I knelt beside him and put my hands together and pretended to pray. From inside the depths of the hood I got a view of the room. Rough plank floor, one stool, a few pots and pails, baskets and leather pouches hanging from pegs on the walls. It spoke of poverty and neglect. I turned my attention on the boy. He was dirty and unkempt but his round cheeks had a healthy blush under the grime.

  ‘It’s the fever, isn’t it Father?’ The poor man wrung his hands. I flapped my sleeve in the direction of a bucket and a small bowl. The man stared and did nothing. Trying to keep my hands concealed I rose and got some water. I took Ansgar’s silver cross and dipped it in the water a few times, each time nodding and rocking as if I was chanting a wordless spell. Then I made the sign of the cross over the boy and threw the bowl of water on his face. The little rascal leaped up with an outraged scream. He stared at me with pale eyes, coughing and spluttering to get his breath back.

  ‘A miracle!’ His father threw his arms in the air before collapsing in a heap at my feet. He kissed the muddy hem of Ansgar’s habit: ‘Thank you Father, thank you, thank you!’ He rose and hugged the boy. ‘My son,’ he sobbed rocking from side to side, ‘my son cured by a miracle.’ Over his shoulder the boy fixed me with a malevolent stare. I made for the door but the man called out and again grabbed hold of my sleeve. He held up a small coin. I shook my head.

  ‘But Father, I must know your name so I can tell of the miracle you performed.’ Having no other way of communicating with him I again shook my head and pushed him aside. He cried out and to soften my roughness I made another sign of the cross. I stumbled out of the door and walked as swiftly as the slippery walkway allowed. This was to no avail. The grateful father pursued me down the path shouting for all to hear about the miracle of his son’s recovery. I increased my pace until I was running. Once back on the main road I dipped behind a cart and slipped into the shadows between two houses. I waited for him to pass first one way then the other.

  It was getting dark by the time I crossed the bridge and approached the gates. They were about to be barred and one side was already closed. There were few travellers left and they were impatient and pushed and shoved to get through. I tried to walk as if I was in a hurry but not so fast it would look suspicious. I had to join the crowd at the gate as it was pulled to. It was hard to see from inside my hood but I couldn’t afford to risk anyone catching a glimpse of my face. I was pushed by a burly farmer squeezing past. One of the guards shouted at him and he stopped to apologise. I shrank further into the hood and waved an empty sleeve to show he was forgiven. Otherwise the guards took little notice of me except two of them bowed their heads in respect as I passed. My spine tingled with the anticipation of being called back. I was a couple of spear-throws beyond the gate when I heard the distant noise of horns, hounds and shouting. The alarm had been raised. Ansgar had been found. I invoked the protection of Odin for him, hitched up his habit and ran.

  20.

  I arrived at the camp to find everything packed and my companions waiting.

  ‘Ansgar, but where is…?’ Ragnar’s voice cracked, betraying his anguish and I smiled and removed the hood. ‘Odin’s beard, it’s you! Sigrid, at last! I gave a blood-sacrifice to Thor to keep you safe. We hear too much about this king and his wife.’ Ragnar held me close for a brief moment. ‘No time to talk now. We must hurry or the tide will be gone and the ship will sail without us.’

  The ship Cloudrider was beached, on its own, behind a bend in the river. In the pale light of the setting summer sun I saw the fearsome carved head of a dragon with fire in his eyes and sharp teeth in his open mouth. This ship was as large as any I had seen in the estuary before the battle of Brunnanburh. While our baggage was loaded and Kveldulf and Olvir settled onboard I slipped behind a clump of reeds and swapped Ansgar’s coarse, black habit for a spare dress of my own. So it was as a respectable widow I greeted the chieftain, Gunnar Sigfusson. He stood taller than most men, broad-shouldered with the dark, brooding face of one capable of great violence. His ships-master looked younger but bore the marks of someone who had seen many battles. They both treated me with respect.

  ‘Better not mention Brunnanburh,’ whispered Thorfinn. ‘They both fought there but on the other side. Not that I’m frightened but we are greatly outnumbered. They weren’t keen on the children but I mentioned your royal connections and Gunnar Sigfusson decided we might be useful to him. It seems he intends to stop in Norway for a while.’

  I was allocated space for myself, Olvir and Kveldulf in the middle of the ship among all the chests, barrels and leather sacks holding treasure, goods to trade and supplies for the voyage. Our horses had to be left behind due to the heavy cargo. A man came with us from the town and paid a good price when confronted with so many swords. Ragnar, Thorfinn, Anlaf and Ulf were to join the crew for the journey and each had an oar to power until we were under sail.

  Gunnar seemed in a hurry to leave Jorvik. He decided we would take advantage of the light evening and start our voyage straight away. This brought remonstrations from others since a couple of men still hadn’t returned from the town. Gunnar looked around and conferred with his ships-master. The sky was clear, the wind favourable, Niord, god of the sea and Thor who ruled the wind and waves, were sending us an omen that it was a good time to set off. The helmsman called directions to the oarsmen. Some of the men began humming and others joined in a tune that followed the rhythm of the oars.

  We followed the River Ouse to where it joins the Humber. Then we moved with the evening-tide out towards the open sea. Gunnar stood in the prow looking out for waves breaking on shallows and rocks. I leant against a bale of hides and cradled Kveldulf in my arms. Olvir snuggled up to me and fell asleep. I lifted my face to the sky and allowed tears of relief to run down my cheeks. In the dim light from the moon only one man noticed. Ragnar smiled and winked at me. He looked relaxed and happy pulling at his oar. I wiped my tears. I worried about brother Ansgar. He was so trusting. I knew that Archbishop Wolfstan was more than able to protect him against Eirik but I had glimpsed the evil in Gunnhild and feared for my friend.

  The crew took it in turns to row through the night with Gunnar setting the course by the stars. When the sun crept above the horizon, Kveldulf was the first to wake. He looked around him and squealed with delight:

  ‘Mummy, look! Big boat.’ This woke the warriors nearest to us and one of them sat up and muttered about women and children on war-ships. I was grateful we were placed so my four companions were two on each side of me. For the first time I began to think of them as my body-guard. Then I looked down the rows of oarsmen in front of me and behind me. There must be at least thirty pairs of oars. Even with their mailshirts
and helmets stowed away in their sea-chests the men looked fearsome, each carrying the scars and wild demeanours of seasoned warriors. What could my four do against them all?

  I looked at the broad back of Gunnar Sigfusson, who stood in the prow in the same position I had seen him last night. He said something to one of the oarsmen, who got up and took his place. Gunnar turned round and I got a proper look at him. He was built to instil fear, dark and solid, with a broken nose and eyebrows shadowing his raven’s eyes. He made his way along the crowded hull towards me and with a trembling hand I felt for my knife. He knelt next to me, stretched out a large, hairy finger and tickled Kveldulf ’s chin.

  ‘Well, here we have the seed of a true Viking. So you like riding my plank-horse, little man.’ He looked at me and one of his eyebrows sat high in his forehead as he smiled. ‘You may need to tether him to the mast. We have made enough sacrifice to Niord in the past. We don’t want to give him our future as well.’ Then he left me and went to the stern, where he lifted his tunic and pissed in a great arch over the side of the ship.

  The rest of the crew followed his example, as did Olvir. Ragnar held Kveldulf so he could do the same. I began to wonder how to manage my own needs. In the small knorr with my father at the helm I would stick my rump over the side in the stern and hold on to the rudder. One look at the helmsman put me right off that idea. I appealed to Ragnar who confirmed this was the best way unless I wanted to use a bucket.

  ‘Just remember to empty it out on the leeward side,’ he said and laughed.

  I found one of the pails and spread my cloak around me for a little privacy.

  Olvir didn’t like the sea. While we followed the coast northwards, keeping just in sight of the shore, he kept asking why we couldn’t sail closer to land. The dolphins and porpoises leaping and playing in the ship’s wake held his attention only temporarily. He grew ever more anxious as the last of the land sank below the horizon, the gulls abandoned us and the water became free of seaweed. He sat with his back to the mast where he knew he was out of the way and his face took on a pale greenish hue. The puppy, Striker, also didn’t like the sea and lay like a dishevelled rag on Olvir’s lap. They looked a thoroughly miserable pair. To distract Olvir, Ragnar gave him some wood and suggested he should carve himself a set of hnefatafl figures.