Honour is All Read online

  ‘North Wind will return to look for Sigrid,’ said Unn. ‘At least some of the others will follow.’ Orm wasn’t convinced.

  ‘How can you be so sure? Someone might take him, he’s a fine steed.’ Unn laughed.

  ‘Have you seen a stranger try to ride him?’

  ‘No, have you?’

  ‘I’ve seen what was left of one. Believe me, if he’s alive, North Wind will find his way back to Sigrid.’ I didn’t say anything but I thought that was a very big ‘if’. I knew North Wind was capable of killing a man but he would not be able to withstand cold steel.

  We led the fugitives further into the forest before setting up camp. My hird took turns to stand guard. The soldiers were unlikely to bother with us even if they saw our fires but there were wolves and bears to watch out for. The pilgrims and travellers who’d followed us left the next morning but I wasn’t sure whether Aedred had known that Gunnhild was at the Minster. If so the soldiers would be looking for her to use as hostage. So we stayed. Three days we foraged in the dense undergrowth, hunted and set snares without much success and spent the nights freezing on the cold ground.

  And they prayed. Morning, noon and night Ansgar intoned chants and prayers. I and my hird were the only ones who didn’t join in. I felt a great need to appeal to my own gods for help and so as not to offend any of the Christians I called my hird and made to leave the camp. I should have known Gunnhild would object.

  ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘Hunting.’ I should have been more polite but I was cold, I was hungry and I was worried about Vida and North Wind. She bristled.

  ‘All of you? What about us?’ I remembered that Cerdic was a Christian even if he wasn’t the same kind of Christian as Ansgar and Gunnhild.

  ‘I’ll leave Cerdic to defend you. Nobody is likely to come here. You’ll be safe.’

  Our hunting luck returned. A small hind had got tangled in one of our snares. Anlaf tied it up and we found a rock in among a clump of oak trees. I lit a fire and threw some of Olvir’s herbs on it. We stood around the rock with the hind on it, stamped our feet and humming began moving in a circle. Then I knelt by the fire and chanted the ancient words that would reach the gods.

  ‘Freya, we are your children.

  Odin we are your servants.

  Thor we are your warriors.’

  I breathed in the smoke, coughed, retched and breathed in again. My eyes streaming and my head swimming, I felt my mind open in readiness to speak with the holy ones. I drew my knife and cut the throat of the hind. It bleated one last pleading note and its warm blood gushed from the wound. I dipped my fingers in it and daubed first myself then each member of my hird. I had no vessel to collect blood but the hind was light and as Ylva and Unn carried the twitching body, I followed and painted the old oaks with the steaming blood.

  Then we placed the hind on the rock and I slit it open. The smell was sweet and fresh. The liver glistened deep red and the heart still pumped. The intestines slid out across the grass like pink and blue snakes. It was all good until a small foetus in its birth sack fell to the ground. I heard my people catch their breaths. Then a hellish chorus of shrieks filled my ears, a cloud of furious black wings descended round my head and blinded me. I hit out at them, I screamed but was overcome and I fell to the ground curled up in the same position as the unborn fawn.

  ‘Sigrid! Stop it! Wake up!’ Someone shook me and shouted my name. I couldn’t respond. I fell down an abyss where there was nothing but darkness.

  A long time later I awoke to see Olvir’s worried face looking down at me.

  ‘What happened, Sigrid?’ I got on to my hands and knees and was sick on the ground. When the world around me stopped spinning I sat down. I had no idea where I was. My hird sat in a circle around me. They looked fearful. I wondered why. Then I spotted the sacrificial hind and her unborn fawn and it all came back to me in its horrible detail.

  ‘I killed an unborn and the gods were angered.’

  ‘Why would that make them angry?’ said Olvir. ‘They got two sacrifices, present and future.’

  ‘I was attacked. Didn’t you see? Odin sent his ravens to punish me.’ They all shook their heads and Olvir said:

  ‘Those weren’t ravens. They were crows, nasty, aggressive crows. A whole flock of them came down and tried to get at the sacrifice. We had to beat them back.’ I wanted to believe him but deep down there in the abyss I had seen Odin’s eye.

  The next day I decided it was time to venture up to the village. I asked only Anlaf to come with me lest we attracted attention by our numbers.

  The Minster was no more than a shell. The roof had fallen in and every window gaped dark and empty. We looked inside and found utter destruction; the large bell had crashed to the ground smashing one of the stone pillars that held up the vaulted ceiling thus adding to the damage already done by roof-tiles and molten led. Scraps of material from the drapes and fragments of paintings lay among the blackened rafters and crumbling stonework. From somewhere near the middle came chanting and a shrill voice:

  ‘More, harder, harder.’

  We clambered over some fallen masonry and round a pillar. A group of monks huddled in the middle of it all, wailing and crying. Some of them had stripped off their habits and kneeling among the shards of glass, ashes and dust used long whips to flog themselves. Their backs were criss-crossed by narrow wounds oozing blood and puss. One, it may have been the Abbott, had two monks wielding whips over his ravaged back. He was the one we’d heard and he was still at it.

  ‘Lord, forgive me! I’m a miserable sinner. I deserve all you sent to punish me. Looord! Harder! Drive the sin from me!’ I wondered what dreadful sins the poor man had on his conscience to think the raid was God’s punishment. Did he not realise that it came from Aedred and was aimed at Wulfstan?

  There was no point lingering. We left without anyone noticing us.

  Among the monastery buildings a few dishevelled monks and lay brothers moved without aim or purpose, poking around in the piles of ash. Others just sat there staring at nothing.

  ‘Do you know what happened to the horses?’ I asked a monk who stood clutching a scorched crucifix to his chest. He looked at me with empty eyes and slack mouth. He made no attempt to speak. There was nothing we could do to help so we walked past and went to find what was left of the village. Unlike the monks, who had never experienced violence directed against them, the villagers knew war and the destruction it carried. They were already busy clearing the rubble and trying to rebuild. Any animals that hadn’t been carried off by the soldiers were tethered and fed. Cattle, killed by the soldiers, had been carefully butchered and roasted over open fires.

  Aedred’s soldiers had left the area but nobody knew where to. The man who’d let us use his yard greeted us with a nod.

  ‘I’m thinking you might persuade the Brothers to give our dead Christian burials. They hardly replied when I went to ask. You’d have thought…’ He shrugged his shoulders.

  ‘We have a priest in our company,’ I said. ‘He will come.’

  ‘He’ll be in his element,’ muttered Anlaf. I dug my elbow in his side.

  ‘We had horses in the stables at the monastery. Does anyone know what happened to them?’

  ‘Most were taken by Aedred’s men but some, about four or five, ha ha, it was funny really, but, you see, they put up a fight. One in particular, large black stallion you should have seen it. He killed one man and kept the rest at bay until he escaped with a small herd. And a little pony scampering after them with a woman on the back. No saddle or bridle. Clinging on for dear life she was. Oh, it was a sight. I couldn’t help laughing in the middle of all our misery.’

  ‘Where might these horses have headed for?’

  ‘Oh, there’s no telling. To the woods or down the West Field perhaps, away from the soldiers, that’s for certain.’

  Brother Ansgar set off at once to see to the burials. Olvir went with him to help with the wounded and Orm and Anlaf to dig
the graves. I decided it would be safe now for us all to stay in the village. Gunnhild and her ladies in their dirty, crumpled gowns were still recognised as noblewomen and accommodated in what remained of a farmhouse. The rest of us put up rough shelters to keep out the weather and began bargaining with the villagers for food.

  Despite the ravages of Aedred’s army, a few pilgrims arrived looking to worship the holy relics in St. Wilfred’s shrine. The bits of bone, cloth and wood had been safe in the crypt but the splendid caskets had been left in the Minster and had been destroyed. The entrance to the crypt was blocked so nobody could see the relics but the pilgrims still brought their offerings. This had a restorative effect on the monks who collected money and jewellery from them in return for blessings. To me this was strange.

  ‘Ansgar, I don’t understand this. This god, Wilfred, is so weak he can’t even protect his own house. And still they sacrifice to him.’

  ‘Sigrid, I have explained this to you before. St. Wilfred is a saint, not a god and the pilgrims don’t sacrifice to him – they bring gifts to show their love for him and for the Lord.’

  ‘They ask for things though, healing mainly and forgiveness. I’ve heard them.’

  ‘They ask St. Wilfred to intercede on their behalf with the Lord.’

  ‘But St. Wilfred can’t even protect his own church, how can he help anyone? And why don’t they just ask your god directly? If I want something I give a sacrifice to a god and in return he or she helps me and if they don’t I don’t sacrifice to them again but I turn to a different god.’

  ‘Sigrid, faith is not like buying and selling.’ Ansgar looked sad and shook his head. ‘The Good Lord does not expect anything from us apart from our devotion and obedience. He cares for all his children. Your gods are dangerous and demanding. They can turn against you and cause grief. They offer no security, no comfort and no love. No…’ He held up a hand to stop me asking more questions. ‘I pray every day that you will see the true light.’ He made the sign of the cross over me and walked off in the direction of the graveyard.

  So, I thought, he’s a man after all then. As soon as a discussion gets difficult he walks off. I looked around at the ravaged village and, not for the first time, thought the Christian god had a strange way to show he cared. Odin and Thor had looked after me. I had survived many battles, my farm prospered and my family was safe. True, my gods expected sacrifice and didn’t always give me what I asked for but, most of the time, I felt I could trust them. Then I remembered the hind. I had tried to make up for it by burning the unborn fawn but no god had sent a sign that the sacrifice had been pleasing to them. On the other hand nothing dreadful had happened either – at least not yet.

  I searched the ground for tracks of our horses. In the village it was so churned up it was impossible to see anything. I wandered through a field, sown with wheat but trampled to dust. I made my way through rough grazing land where the movements and noise of carrion birds led me to cadavers of cattle and sheep, covered in blood and flies. They had been there for some days, and the smell drove me away. Horses would not stay around there. I retraced my steps until I reached the track leading back to the Minster.

  A movement caught my attention. Someone came slowly limping in my direction. A woman. I shouted for joy:

  ‘Vida, Vida! Thanks be to Odin, he brought you back.’ Dirty, her clothes in rags, her hair hanging in tangles Vida was barely recognisable.

  ‘Sigrid Kveldulfsdaughter, Mistress, I’m sorry. I lost the horse and the others got away.’

  ‘That is of no importance. You’re safe. Come, you need food and rest and those nasty cuts need looking after.’ She gave an exhausted smile.

  ‘I could do with a wash as well.’ I got her back to our shelters and Olvir set to cleaning and putting poultices on her many cuts and grazes. Cerdic brought her a piece of meat.

  ‘It’s supposed to be from one of the cows that they killed but you’d be hard pressed to recognise which part.’ Vida nodded her thanks and with her eyes closed attacked the food. I let her eat for a while before asking:

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘I was in the village when the soldiers arrived. I knew they’d set fire to everything, they always do, so I opened the stable doors and untied the horses. At first North Wind wouldn’t move so I led a couple of the others outside thinking he’d follow.’

  ‘And did he?’ She laughed.

  ‘Oh yes, when he smelled the fires he stormed past me. All the others followed and I just had time to clamber on to the pony. The soldiers caught many of them. I think North Wind may have injured some soldiers. I couldn’t see much but there was blood on him.’ I caught my breath. Blood. North Wind. It could be from the soldier but what if he was injured? What if… I took a hold on my feelings and patted Vida on the shoulder.

  ‘But you escaped. And riding bareback too. Well done!’

  ‘Oh, I just clung on. No saddle, no bit. I soon fell off and lost sight of them.’

  ‘You’ve been very brave.’

  ‘Oh no, I was full of fear, especially at night, but I prayed to the Good Lord to keep me safe from all the evil forces that stalk the darkness. And He heard me and let me find my way.’ She kissed the small cross she wore round her neck.

  ‘Your God or mine,’ I said, ‘as long as you’re back.’

  We couldn’t leave until we had horses for at least Gunnhild and her children. Some of her ladies might be able to walk but it would be very slow. That’s how I justified staying in the village but in truth I waited for North Wind to return. I was beset with worry for my horse. There would never be another one like him.

  My horse didn’t come but my uncle, King Eirik, arrived at the head of his army. The men looked fresh and cheerful, untouched by battle. Gunnhild was furious. I rather enjoyed listening to her greeting him:

  ‘You sent me and our children into the arms of our enemy. I don’t know how you dare present yourself here without the head of that villain on a spike. Shall you accept this outrage? Shall you meekly watch your family hunted and humiliated? We almost burnt to death. Do you…’ They walked off towards the house she occupied.

  ‘It’s all right for some,’ said a familiar voice and I was hugged from behind.

  ‘Ragnar, when?’

  ‘Just now,’ he said. ‘Wulfstan will be too busy to notice if I disappear for a while. Would you like a walk? I don’t suppose I ought to carry you across my shoulder now you’re head of the Queen’s bodyguard.’

  With our arms around each other we walked across the ash-strewn ground where the monastery had stood. Behind the Minster we found a secluded corner where soft grass and sweet smelling herbs beckoned us to lie down. It had been so long. My body sang with desire and our pleasure was as sweet and deep as when we were first lovers. The sun was low in the sky when I heard voices calling my name. One last kiss and we got dressed and returned to join our respective hirds.

  Gunnhild and Eirik had set up court in the farmhouse. Wulfstan and the Jarls were in there with them. Apart from servants bringing them food and drink nobody else was allowed in. The farmer looked at the warriors on guard and shrugged his shoulders. There wasn’t anything he could do about it and maybe he anticipated some payment. Knowing my uncle, I thought that unlikely but at least we were sure to be leaving soon and the farmer would get his home back.

  ‘Sigrid, we’ve been looking everywhere, well almost everywhere,’ Orm grinned. ‘They asked for you. You’d better join them. I’m sure you wouldn’t want to miss out on anything.’ I sighed and made my way to the house.

  ‘Ah, Niece,’ said Eirik, ‘at last. I shall leave with the army tomorrow. You will return to Jorvik with the Queen.’

  ‘As you wish, Uncle, but as you may be aware, we have no horses.’

  ‘We shall leave you enough for you to be able to travel at reasonable speed. Your luggage will have to be left behind.’ I almost laughed. He had obviously not been informed that everything we owned lay among the smouldering ruins of the ho
spital.

  ‘We also need to replace our shields.’

  ‘Speak to Haeric,’ said Eirik with an impatient wave of his hand. I understood that I was dismissed.

  I had no intention of speaking to my objectionable cousin so I appealed to the head of Wulfstan’s hird. He must have assumed I came from the Archbishop and made no objections to help out with new shields.

  The next day I watched Ragnar ride off at the head of his hird under Wulfstan’s banner. We saluted each other as behoves warriors but the way he winked and grinned made me blush and giggle.

  The horses left for us by Eirik were in a sad state. The blacksmith had been killed in the attack and the forge at the monastery had been one of the first buildings to burn down. Olvir and Cerdic did what they could with the sorry nags. Ansgar offered to take me to a neighbouring farmstead that might be able to supply a horse or two – if they had escaped Aedred’s men.

  They hadn’t. We were greeted by a sight not much different to what we’d just left, smouldering timbers and scorched crops. The farmer met us, eager to exchange news. He listened with furrowed brow to our tale but he had nothing to tell us that we didn’t already know except for one thing:

  ‘You say you want horses. There’s a small herd of wild ones passed here yesterday. Led by a huge stallion. Beautiful animal but fierce. And gone before I could get enough people to help me catch any of them.’ My spirits soared.

  ‘That’ll be my horses,’ I said. ‘If you point to where they went I shall go and fetch them.’

  ‘You’ll need strong rope and strong men for that.’ He eyed me with an expression just the right side of respectful.

  ‘No,’ I said, ‘I need no help with this.’

  I whistled and listened and I whistled again. I couldn’t understand it. The large stallion must have been North Wind. Where was he? Why didn’t he hear me? Ansgar prayed and I knew that if we ever found North Wind he’d take the credit on behalf of his God.

  ‘There,’ whispered Ansgar. ‘Over there.’ I looked. There were two of my horses, the geldings used by Ylva and Unn. They were in poor condition; manes and tails full of teasels and twigs, a singed tail on one and a cut to the flank on the other. I dismounted and spoke to them in a low, soothing voice: