Читать книгу The Fighting Man - Adrian Deans - Страница 12

Chapter 5

My Errant Shafts

It was a cold night. I wasn’t sure of my welcome in the deepest and warmest part of the cave, where Valla slept with the dog. Carl and I spoke in low voices for a while and I swore with vengeful fury when he gave me full details of the arrangement between Malgard and his former master, Ulrik Dragontooth. Then, as the fire died, we found places in the wicker and turf extension which kept out most of the wind and some of the cold. It occurred to me that Angdred and the two dead Danes had clothes they wouldn’t be needing any longer, but I wasn’t going to go stumbling through the forest to search corpses in the dark – alone.

The next morning, while Valla stirred the fire, Carl and I went back to the site of the battle – a clearing just inside the forest on the marsh side of the hill. The ground was red with blood where the young Dane and Angdred had been slaughtered, and Olaf lay staring on his back with an arrow in his throat and his breeches around his ankles. Even in death, it was clear he had been a man of mighty endowment and I shuddered at what I had been spared. I expected Carl to kick the body or make some kind of vengeful gesture, but if anything he looked a little sad and muttered a prayer.

We stripped the bodies and examined the small hoard of clothing, goods and weapons. As well as the sword carried in by Carl the previous evening, there was a large battle-axe born by Olaf, two bows with quivers full of arrows, several knives, an excellent pair of boots, Angdred’s shirt of rings, three good belts, a couple of whetstones, some salt and some coins.

I dressed myself in thick woollen hose and a leather jerkin, from which I scraped the worst of the blood. The shirt of rings was overlarge, but like the axe it was valuable. I took all the weapons and wrapped them in my brother’s cloak, with the exception of the sword, which I strapped at my waste and one of the knives which slipped neatly into my new boot.

‘How long have you known Valla?’ asked Carl, as we covered the bodies with the remnants of their clothing.

‘A day,’ I answered, well pleased with my new gear. ‘I met her near Stybbor, about this time yesterday.’

‘The Lord can throw us some challenges,’ said Carl, looking back towards the cave. ‘In all my days as a thrall, I never looked to be delivered by a pagan witch.’

It was the first time I had seen Carl in daylight – he seemed younger than I’d first thought – early twenties perhaps. And he didn’t look like a monk, having lived with the Danes for three years. His brown hair was long and untonsured and his beard dark and thick. His arms, accustomed to pulling the oars of Ulrik’s dragonboat bulged with muscle. He looked more like a warrior than a monk – more like a warrior than I did.

‘How is that a challenge?’

‘A sorceress succeeds where the church and armies failed? I’d call that a challenge. His mind is mysterious and His whims inconceivable … but He does nothing if not to test us.’

‘You have spoken with God?’ I asked.

‘No man can truly claim to have done so,’ he replied. ‘But sometimes we can be fairly sure we know what He wants of us.’

‘It is perilous to speak with God,’ I said, with some feeling. ‘I have experience of this … it cost me my family.’

Carl stared at me for a few moments.

‘It would surely be perilous to act as though authorised by God … only the Holy Father in Rome may do that.’

‘Nevertheless … I have so acted. I wished to be a warrior and God responded by sending Danes to attack the village.’

Once again, my eyes filled with tears – it was only a day and a half since my world had been destroyed. I pulled the heavy sword from its leather scabbard, lined with greasy fleece.

Carl stepped back as I took a couple of clumsy swipes at the air.

‘What do you mean to do?’ he asked.

‘I have to get to the king,’ I said, ‘to let him know of the treachery of Malgard and claim my father’s thegnship.’

‘Then you had best hurry young Brand. I know Malgard left for Lundene yesterday. He sent his man to hunt you … wishing to take no chances with the succession.’

I looked down once again at the corpse of Angdred – lying in two pieces – and without thinking, struck at his thigh with the sword. The blade cut about two inches into the jelly-like flesh with a dull thunk, and I shuddered as I pulled it free of the cold, sucking meat.

‘It takes time to learn sword craft,’ observed Carl, and I grimaced as I realised how inexpert my swings must have appeared.

‘What do you know of fighting?’ I demanded, resenting his bearing witness to my lack of skill.

‘I can teach you the little I have learned … watching and listening to the Danes, who are all great warriors … and the first thing is this: keep the sword clean and sharp. Get to know it like you know your own right hand. The Danes say the sword must become part of you … before it can become part of someone else.’

He seemed to speak with authority and I found myself submitting to his instruction.

‘You and the sword must become one … a single engine. The sharp point is the killing device that starts with your head, reaches down your arm through your hand and into the blade. But before you practice slashes and lunges, you must acquire sword-strength … as the Danes call it.’

‘Sword-strength?’

‘Men fall to the swords of other men less by lack of skill and more by lack of wind. He that can hold his sword up the longest has the better hope of victory. Practice by holding the sword out at shoulder height until you can keep it up for an hour.’

That made sense to me and I resolved to start practising immediately, but Carl gathered up the hoard and started back towards Valla’s fire.

‘Come Brand … there is much to discuss.’

∞ ∞ ∞

Valla was typically moody and aloof when we returned, but she examined the gear and chose for herself a quiver of arrows (she had her own bow), the lightest of the belts, a whetstone and a long, pale knife decorated with runes and a dragon coiling about the hilt. It looked familiar and I felt a moment’s regret that I hadn’t claimed that for myself, but Valla was more than entitled to her share of the plunder.

She stirred more herbs and water into the remains of the broth, and to my disgust fed the last of the boiled hare to the dog who wolfed it down in seconds.

‘Malgard is healing,’ she said with satisfaction, causing Carl to stare at her in confusion – as though she was divining.

‘I’ve named the dog Malgard,’ I explained, and Carl laughed grimly.

‘You have a dangerous sense of humour young Brand … no wonder God takes an interest in you.’

Valla had heard my story concerning commune with God and snorted with amusement.

‘Takes an interest,’ she laughed. ‘Give me a sign Lord, cried Brand … and lo, the horse shat!’

She was at least sounding less unfriendly, and once again I found myself keenly aware of her strange attraction. She was not at all like the ladies of my father’s household – or the village – not that I had known that many. She was wiry and thin, festooned with furs and short breeches that looked to be made of harts hide. Her hair, as I’ve said, was long and black – tied into two thick braids and crowned with bluebells. And her face was brown with full, pink lips and green-black eyes blazing fiercely at me once again.

‘What are you staring at?’

‘Nothing,’ I stammered, beginning to suspect she was as privy to my thoughts as God seemed to be.

‘Good … so when are you leaving?’

‘Erm … well … today I suppose. I have to get to Lundene.’

‘If you will … I’ll come with you,’ said Carl. ‘I would see Lundene … and you’ll need a witness when you accuse Malgard before the king.’

As he spoke, I was aware of how daunting was my task. Malgard was a man, who had fought with my father in the king’s fyrd and had doubtless many friends and supporters. No-one knew me, and even if I did manage to come before the king, there would be plenty prepared to side with Malgard – a man they knew and with whom they’d stood in the shield wall.

‘Thank you Carl,’ I nodded. ‘I look forward to your company … only, do you know in which direction Lundene lies?’

‘Alas, my home is in the north,’ said Carl. ‘All I know is that Lundene is a great city in the south … on the Temes.’

‘You must go to Gipeswic,’ said Valla. ‘It is not far from here, down the Arwan. From there you can take a ship … there are many fleece barges which ply between Gipeswic and Lundene.’

‘He cannot go to Gipeswic,’ said Carl. ‘At least … not with me. My former Danish masters sailed up the Arwan, past Gipeswic, and must return that way. In all likelihood, they’ll stop for trade and to visit the inns and stews around the docks. I have no desire to be recaptured.’

Valla considered for a few moments, then she said, ‘I can put you on the western road to Lundene … but have no desire to leave my own domain. I will take you to my border and no further.’

Inwardly I bridled at her reference to her domain – this land was all my domain, now that my father was dead – but if I wanted her help …

‘There is a condition,’ she continued, ‘if you want my assistance.’

‘Name it.’

‘If your claim is recognised by the king, you must grant to me this forest … forever.’

I was shocked – not so much by her ambition, as by the realisation that I had left the world of childish fair play behind and that life from now on would be a constant wary struggle – not only against warriors and assassins, but also against sharp merchants and courtiers who would steal my property if they could.

‘That seems a high price for a guide.’

‘Nevertheless … it is my price.’

‘I might consider giving you the run of the forest … with rights to harvest timber, game and fruits.’

‘Enjoy your trip to Lundene then … give my regards to the king, if he still lives when you find him.’

I stared at her for a moment, suddenly feeling the need for urgency.

‘Alright … I’ll grant you a portion of the forest … from here to the place you killed the Danish dog.’

It was a generous offer – if made under duress – but she wasn’t satisfied. After some further consideration, I realised I was loath to part with Valla – for all her strangeness and moods – and it was liable to spoil my judgment.

‘Alright, I will grant you the entire forest … but there are two conditions.’

Valla cocked an eyebrow, as though amused at my effrontery in daring to haggle with her.

‘First … you must teach me your method of using the bow … ’

‘If you are capable of learning it in the time we take to reach the edge of the forest,’ she said.

‘And second … you must come with us, all the way to Lundene.’

Once again her eyes flashed with anger, but I raised my hand to forestall another outburst.

‘You are an expert archer,’ I explained. ‘I desire your … protection.’

I suspected that such a statement would appeal to her pride. As for the forest, which had been in my family since time immemorial, it occurred to me that, in all likelihood, my own claim would never be made. I could therefore afford to offer her anything.

∞ ∞ ∞

‘Don’t aim at the target … just pull back the shaft, picture the arrow buried in the target, and release. It’s uncanny how well it seems to work.’

‘Like magic?’

‘If you like, but it is warriors’ magic … not the deep magic of the forest.’

We had walked for some hours, heading due north to skirt Stybbor and find the western road. We were moving slowly as Valla had insisted on bringing Malgard – who seemed to be healing well and was able to limp along by himself. He was also fascinated by every passing scent and had to be pulled away from every second tree. Progress was slow.

We had paused for a morsel in the mid afternoon, and then Valla had taken me hunting – to learn the bow and find some meat for the evening meal.

‘Shouldn’t I start by shooting at a tree?’ I asked.

‘A tree?’ she sneered. ‘Will rabbits, deer or soldiers stand like a tree and wait for you to shoot?’

I nodded, as her words made sense, and wondered about the countless hours I had spent in my childhood, shooting at butts.

‘The way I was taught,’ she said, ‘if you can’t practice with a moving target, you have to move yourself.’

With that she started walking to her right and almost casually shot into the centre of a tree some thirty paces away. Then she walked back to her left and placed her second shaft no more than a handsbreadth from the first.

I gaped at her effortless skill and said, ‘Olaf didn’t stand a chance.’

‘It’s a bit harder to judge … shooting out of the dark into light … the different light seems to play tricks on the eyes. But at least you are hard to see if you are in the dark and the target is in the light. I was only twenty paces from Olaf when I shot him.’

There was no mistaking the pride in her voice, and I envied her prowess. I took two arrows from the quiver, as she had done, and started walking to my right. I stared hard at Valla’s arrows, pictured my own nestled alongside, and released …

And saw a flicker past the tree and heard a distant thunk as the arrow struck an object deeper in the forest.

‘You’re thinking too much about the bow,’ said Valla. ‘You have to just think the target dead, so the bow is an unconscious medium of death … between your brain and the target.’

I wasn’t entirely sure that I understood what she meant, and although I had asked her to teach me the bow, I couldn’t help but resent her talent. Without further word I nocked the second arrow and started moving back to my left – which seemed even harder – and sure enough, the arrow flashed away, missing by a greater distance than the first.

‘Come on,’ she said. ‘We can’t afford to lose those.’

We paused at the tree to pull her arrows and then began the search for my errant shafts. I went left as she went right and after a few seconds heard her call, ‘Found it.’

I hadn’t heard the second arrow strike anything so it could be anywhere. I pulled another arrow from my quiver and nocked it as I moved silently forward – desperate to prove my worth.

As I rounded a large tree, I was confronted with a hare caught in a snare and, after snatching a quick glance over my shoulder, shot the already dead hare from two feet away, then swiftly released it.

∞ ∞ ∞

‘That was a mighty shot,’ said Carl yet again as Valla skinned and boned the hare to prepare a similar meal to that we’d eaten the previous night. She was smiling.

‘Tell us again how it was done.’

I had already told the story twice and was getting a little embarrassed in the face of Carl’s admiration and Valla’s silent mirth. I suspected that somehow she was aware of my subterfuge.

‘I heard a scrabbling ahead,’ I said. ‘I raised the bow as the hare suddenly leapt from cover and … without even thinking … loosed the arrow and saw the hare bowled over.’

‘Amazing,’ repeated Carl.

‘Yes … amazing,’ said Valla. ‘One minute he can’t hit a tree, then moments later he takes a hare on the fly with an arrow through the throat. Incredible.’

‘You are a fine teacher Valla,’ I said, hoping to change the subject.

‘That may be,’ she said, amused, ‘but not so fine as to teach you to shoot into yesterday.’

Carl looked up at her, confused, as I burned with embarrassment.

‘Shoot into yesterday?’ he queried.

‘The hare’s been dead for at least a day,’ she explained, tossing some of the skin and scraps to Malgard, ‘so if it was killed by Brand, that can only mean he is able to shoot backwards into time past.’

Valla burst into laughter as Carl continued to look confused.

‘Let’s just hope that the owner of the hare doesn’t miss it yet,’ said Valla. ‘And doesn’t have too many friends.’

∞ ∞ ∞

We roasted the hare over a small fire and washed it down with spring water and some more early blackberries. We had no cave or other shelter, and despite it being summer we were all conscious of the chill as darkness fell.

I had collected plenty of dried wood while there was still light, so was able to tend the fire, but the chill grew worse and we huddled closer – our faces hot and our backs cold.

‘What do you know of the king and his politics?’ asked Carl.

I wasn’t sure I understood the question and shrugged.

‘How do you think you will be received?’

‘Aah … I have heard my father say that King Edward is just in his dealings. I can only trust that he will hear me … I do have this.’

I held up the ring of office which I wore precariously on the thickest finger of my right hand.

‘Malgard was deeply distressed when he realised that was gone,’ said Carl. ‘But he thought it more likely one of the Danes had taken it than you. It is a delicate alliance he has with Ulrik Dragontooth.’

‘The Danes that escaped will go back to Ulrik and report that no ring was found on Brand when he was captured,’ said Valla.

‘That news will take a while to get to Malgard,’ said Carl, ‘unless Ulrik sails to Lundene to trade. But when it does, he will be angered and fearful to know that Brand lives. He will send out more assassins.’

The chill crept over me – both future threat and present cold – and I shivered. More wood went onto the fire and I found myself drawn into its black and red depths like watching a vision of life in a great city. It would be strange and searing in such a place, but at least I’d be safe from the cold – and Malgard.

‘It is time for sleep,’ said Carl, disturbing my reverie and bringing me back to present danger. ‘We should lie together for warmth.’

I glanced at Valla and her eyes narrowed.

‘I don’t trust Brand,’ she said.

I was indignant, but Carl said, ‘Lie back to back with Brand … and I also shall turn my back to you, but you will still be warmed by two backs.’

After some muttering and difficulty, we arranged ourselves – with Malgard the hound also curled between my and Valla’s knees. It was warm enough, but as I knew it would, the feel of Valla’s body and her soft breath against my neck caused the serpent to uncoil and I lay restively as the breathing of the others became slow and regular.

The serpent saved our lives.

As I huddled against Valla resenting both her mistrust and rejection of my lordly rights, I became aware that the night noises had stilled. That usually meant a new presence, and I remembered my sword was lying in its scabbard on the far side of the dying fire.

I lay without breathing, trying to pick out the sounds of stealth that would confirm my fears, then I pressed my leg down on Malgard to gently wake him.

Almost immediately he began to growl softly and I felt a horror – there was something, or someone, very close.

Without further thought, I leapt up from the ground and ran for my sword just visible in the red glow of the embers, and no sooner had I done so I heard a thump and then a curse.

‘Valla!’ I shouted, pulling the sword from the scabbard and peering vainly into the darkness. There were black shapes moving and I leapt towards them, swinging the sword and feeling it catch against something – then the shapes were backing away and more red light bathed the clearing as Valla and Carl threw kindling onto the fire.

‘Who was that?’ I exclaimed, but Valla shrugged.

‘The owners of the hare. Get out of the firelight … unless you want to be a target.’

We all shrank away from the deadly warmth and light, but not before I noticed a large rock part-buried in the ground, where my head had been.

‘Some of your magic might be useful?’ I muttered at Valla.

‘Still!’ she hissed, and crouched low with an arrow nocked, searching the immediate trees for targets. Suddenly a wild laughter rang out of the darkness – taken up by several voices – all around us.

‘We mean you no harm,’ cried Carl, and the shrieking laughter got louder.

‘We mean you harm,’ replied a voice, high pitched and mad with mirth.

‘They fear our weapons,’ said Valla. ‘They have none of their own, save rocks and sharpened staves … but they have some skill with those.’

At that moment I realised that the tip of my sword was dripping blood. I must have caught one of them swinging in the dark – and couldn’t help but feel a little pride. They had no weapons? They weren’t so tough.

‘I am Brand,’ I shouted, planting the sword at my feet. ‘Son of Holgar … thegn and reeve. I am lord of this wood. Who wishes to taste my sword?’

If anything, the laughter got louder and more deranged. One voice began shrieking, ‘Lord of the Wood! Lord of the Wood!’

I estimated that there were at least five or six voices contributing to the laughter, and took a couple of paces in the direction they seemed thickest, when suddenly the small clearing flared brightly with a greenish light and I spun around to see Valla standing over the fire with her hands raised above her head. The fire burned green with a great intensity that faded quickly, and left the air stinking like a cess pit.

‘Behold! I am Valla! Leave this place or I will boil the blood in your veins, wither your children and bring terror to your dreams.’

The laughter ceased.

Valla held her pose, still as a clay figure, until the green flames turned red again and her arms drooped to her sides.

‘They will return,’ she said, softly. ‘Only one of us can sleep, the others must watch and keep the fire alive.’

As for that, we had only collected so much fuel, so I strode to the edge of the light and, always with an eye on the forest, began collecting bark, twigs, cones and anything else that might burn and keep us alive.

‘How did you do that?’ I asked, dragging a good-sized log while still brandishing my sword and keeping my eyes to the forest.

‘You said my magic would be useful,’ said Valla. ‘I agreed. It was time to unveil my power … but the Rockers will return.’

It was all a bit much, and I wasn’t sure which of the two lines of questions I most wanted to pursue.

‘The green flames?’ I faltered, once again feeling the hair rise on the back of my neck. ‘What sort of spell … ’

‘Sulphate of copper,’ said Carl, ‘…blended with pitch to keep it burning bright for a few moments.’

I turned to glance at him, peering calmly into the trees, holding only a stave.

‘So you know the ingredients,’ shrugged Valla. ‘It doesn’t reduce the effect of the magic.’

‘There is no magic save the Lord’s,’ replied Carl. ‘Yours is just the application of basic alchemy.’

‘Magic or alchemy … does it matter? I brought the preparation for such a happening … and now the Rockers have withdrawn.’

‘Who are the Rockers?’ I asked.

‘Outlaws … dispossessed … poor folk without clan. They live deep in the forest and keep to themselves … until they are invaded and robbed.’

‘I didn’t know it was their hare!’ I said hotly, raising my voice slightly in case the Rockers were within earshot.

‘You knew it was someone’s,’ said Valla.

‘You ate it too.’

‘Can I suggest we remain silent?’ asked Carl.

The noises of the forest slowly returned, meaning either that we were alone, or that the night creatures had accepted the new presence of the Rockers.

‘So, they kill with rocks?’ I whispered, examining once again the rock lying exactly where my head had been.

‘That is their way,’ whispered Valla, ‘and rarely do they fail at it. You were lucky.’

‘We were all lucky,’ said Carl. ‘If Brand hadn’t woken us, there would certainly have been more rocks in the dark … although, perhaps not for you.’

I couldn’t see Valla’s face, but I laughed softly, despite the continuing threat from the darkness.

‘Aren’t you going to tell us again that all men are beasts?’ I said, and to my vague dismay, Valla said, ‘Yes, all men are beasts … but know this Brand. I would gladly rut with the foulest peasant before I lay with you. So keep that in mind next time you picture me naked and lying beneath you. It will never happen.’

I had no idea how to respond to that, but it left me feeling sad. And of course, the serpent again began to uncoil.