The line of Danes answered with their shields and swords, noisy and chaotic. My father’s men danced from foot to foot. They were not loyal enough to die for their Laird’s cause. They answered in fear.
‘What will it be, Laird King?’
Sigurd was on both knees now, breathing heavily. Blood dripped slowly down the length of his arm, loosening the grip on his dirk. His head hung heavy. Defeated. It was a great risk but we were running out of time.
My father’s wicked smile lingered too long on his lips. ‘Have what’s left of him.’ He gestured to his men. ‘Leave her be. I want no retaliation.’
Thorkell and I pulled Sigurd from the floor. He resembled a piece of beaten leather. His left eye was so swollen then that it was unrecognisable beneath a crusted layer of blood.
‘We’ll be home soon,’ I whispered, wrapping his arms around my shoulders while Thorkell took most of the weight. Our Danes parted like the sea, Ligach leading the way with a small clay lantern.
We guided ourselves through with the shuffling of our feet, stumbling over the trail of corpses my father had left in his wake. My burden was heavy and awkward, more than I had anticipated, but I would not let him go. Danes towered on either side, closing in behind us to keep out my father’s men.
Outside the sky was black as a raven with a dusting of stars. Behind the hills, the sun’s disk waited to melt the frost, but we would be on the water by then.
I did not look back, hoping that they had not followed. Our party set off along the walkways, the white frost made the path to the waterside easy to follow. Sigurd made small noises as his head lolled forward. The heat on my side spread, as the blood from his puncture wound, seeped into my clothes. He had lost blood, but I was sure I had seen men worse.
When we make sacrifices to Odin before battle, the sharp tang of blood takes me to that night. I close my eyes and I can hear the screams. I can feel the weight of him pressed against me. My legs burned until their bones ached, but the gods gave me the courage and the fear, the fear pushed my legs on like the oars of our ships in a sea of dead.
Behind the horizon, the sky began to burn as dawn approached. All the while two ravens circled high above like black flecks of ash. Now, I could see our three ships as they bobbed against the weathered peer.
‘We are almost there,’ I said softly to him, clutching his waist.
No sooner had the words left my lips than a cloud of burning arrows cast an orange glow across the sky, spearing the hulls of the boats with a hiss. Suddenly, flames poured over the boats, licking and cursing the dawn. A well-made boat is dry as tinder and greased in wax, in the blink of an eye, they are nothing more than embers.
More arrows thundered. Time seemed to blur. Thorkell let go, turning to cover Sigurd and I with his shield along with a handful of other men. Somehow, we managed to keep our balance.
‘We have to get back to the other ships,’ Thorkell barked, back pressed against my own. ‘We can’t carry him.’
‘I will no leave him! Quickly,’ I shouted. ‘Ligach, remember where the horses are? My father’s men will not be guarding them. Fetch a horse and cart. We have the mare, that will be enough. Meet us where we said goodbye.’
She disappeared into the throng, through a gap in the shield wall. The boats were swallowed by the last of the inferno, swallowed whole. My father had given us longer than expected. He meant to see us all burn.
‘You may as well kill us all with your own hands,’ Thorkell growled as another rain of quarrels fell. ‘You are as mad as Loki.’
I was as mad as a woman whose husband had disobeyed her.
There was no time for argument. ‘I’ve watched my father too long. I know where he is weak. He will hide inside his fortress, firing on us until we are tired.’ An almighty crack rang out as the hull of Sigurd’s boat snapped in two and sank below the surface. ‘Then he will attack. He cannot attack if we are already gone. We have to get through that gap, we cannot let them form a line of his men and these ships will not burn forever.’
Thorkell shouted orders in his own tongue and the men responded. We moved together beneath the armour of our shield wall, like a giant scorpion as more arrows tore through the dawn.I turned my head and caught sight of the line of trees, soldier pines that would give us protection from my father’s wrath.
Quarrels whistled again, through a break in our armour. I caught sight of a bloodied mass of snow-white feathers, twisting and turning and hurtling towards the ground with a soft thwack. Beautiful Freyja lay dead before us. Her breast run through.
As the sun rose, the ground thawed making it muddy and slippery underfoot. Sigurd could barely stand, stumbling over upturned roots, pulling me with him.
‘I cannot hold him,’ I said, as another crash of spears thundered against our shields. ‘Please…’
A bear of a man came, red bearded and thick of neck. He stopped beneath the shield armour and lifted Sigurd as though he were a child. Scooping him into his arms.
‘Lady Olith,’ he said, almost folded in half to fit beneath the shields.
We followed the line of looming trees which opened out into a grassy clearing. There, Ligach sat atop my mare, Donada next to her and behind them a small wooden cart filled with straw. Tears pricked my eyes.
‘Place him in the back.’ I waved a hand. ‘And head for the ships We have no time to waste. We leave now.’
The men worked to settle Sigurd, lying him flat and I clambered in next to him. All around us, men were twisting and turning trying to prepare a shield wall to cover us. Ligach urged the mare on and we headed East for the sanctuary of our ships.
We just needed to survive long enough to see them.
