Catla and the Vikings (5 page)

“We need to hurry” said Catla, and they picked up their speed. “That's all I remember. I ducked down and then made myself look again, but there was even more smoke by that time, so I couldn't see any better. I was so scared, Sven. Still am.”

They walked in silence for a while, and then Catla said, “I do feel a little lighter. Let's talk about something else now. Why do you know this path so well, Sven? You're not a smuggler, are you?”

“Smuggler? What gave you that idea?”

“I don't know. Olav talked to me about smuggling. He'd like to see it stopped.”

“What do you think, Catla?'

Sven's question caught her by surprise. He wanted her opinion. And he looked interested.

“Do you use a willow twig on your teeth, Sven?” she asked.

He laughed. “Yes, but what has that got to do with smuggling?”

“Maybe nothing. Likely, nothing.” But she smiled at him in return.

“Olav says smugglers expect real coins for pay,” Catla said. “If people have coins, he says they shouldn't buy from smugglers.”

“It's not always like that, but I agree in some ways,” Sven said. “Some fellows I know in Aigber and York have talked about smuggling, but I've never done it. Only wondered how it's done. I've never been all the way to Aigber. My pals from Aigber have come to Covehithe many a time. My cottage was a good meeting place with Father gone so much. I got quite good at picking up the trails on this part of the heath.”

“At Covehithe? I never saw them,” Catla said. “When did they come?”

“After dark.”

With that blunt statement, the discussion about smuggling seemed to be over, but Catla intended to ask more questions if they could ever think beyond Norsemen.

As the sun climbed higher in the sky, her footsteps dragged and her leg pounded with short jabs of pain. She'd forgotten her walking stick at the stone circle but didn't tell Sven about her injury for fear he might slow down. She dropped back and trudged after him, thinking of the dreadful stories she'd heard about the way captured women were treated. Her heart ached for her mother. What was happening back home? The elder bushes rose over her head and the path narrowed. She rounded a bend scarcely looking ahead and didn't see Sven's legs sprawled on the ground. She tripped and fell flat on top of him. A shock of pain ran the length of her leg. She pressed her lips together so she wouldn't yell.

“Sven, are you hurt?”

He snorted out a laugh and rolled her off. “No. I tripped into this little rill. It's so narrow and silent, I didn't see it or hear it. Have a drink. It's good. My beer has been gone for some time.”

Catla flopped down and looked down into a shine of clear cool water almost hidden by long sedges on both sides. She put her mouth close to the water, scooped it up with both hands, drank and then filled her drinking horn. She doused her head and ran her wet hands over her neck and arms. She stayed bent over for an instant and caught a glimpse of herself. Her tangled hair was still red—funny that her eyebrows were darker. She stirred her image into ripples and sat up. Her skin tingled and her wet hair cooled her back.

As she wrung some of the water from it, she scanned the bushes across the brook. “Blackberries!” They shouted in unison and leaped across the rivulet. Soon their mouths were jammed full. The thorns, sturdy and sharp, drew blood and plucked at their skin and clothing if their hands were too eager. The berries were purple-black with juice and as round as the knob on the top of Catla's spindle at home. Occasionally a tart one puckered the insides of her mouth and her lips squeezed as tight as a purse string.

Purple juice dripped down Sven's lips and chin.

Catla grinned at him, knowing she looked the same. Her tongue shriveled with the sweet, tart taste. She felt less hollow. The morning sun was warm. “I feel better,” she said. “Do you?”

Sven grinned, showing purple teeth, and nodded. They walked on with renewed energy.

When their shadows were about half the length they had been after their blackberry feast, Catla said, “Shouldn't we be there by now? Are we close?”

“I've never been this far, so I'm not sure where we are. Let's just keep going.” Sven's tone was abrupt and distracted.

Catla felt the sting of his tone. She opened her mouth to tell him to keep his bad temper to himself, but said instead, “All right. You didn't tell me you were lost!” She kept her voice light even though she was annoyed. “You needn't growl at me. Maybe we should separate. I could go down closer toward the river and you could go farther inland, but toward the river too. We'll meet later.” She'd show him she could make a plan, too, and look after herself. Did he think just because he was older that he was in charge?

“Oh, yes, that's a fine idea.” Sarcasm dripped off his tongue. “Two of us alone up here and neither knowing where the other is or if we going in the same direction? What if there were more Norsemen? Oh yes, good idea.”

“You didn't hear it all,” Catla shouted, “and don't talk to me like that. It was a decent idea!”

Sven stopped walking. “By the goat's beard, Catla, I'm sorry. Mother used to say my bark was worse than a seal's. I'm not sure where we are, or how far we have to go. I don't think we're lost exactly, but we should stay together. I haven't been on this path before.”

Relief washed over her. She hadn't wanted to go off alone. She felt safer with Sven. Had they missed Aigber? She thought they'd gone farther than she'd walked last day. As she peered around, her eyes lit on a high point on the heath.

“See the hill ahead, with the elder bushes on top? I'll go up and have a look around,” Catla said. “Maybe I'll see Aigber.”

“Good thinking. Let's go,” Sven said.

Catla set off in the lead. After a few steps, her nose caught a slight whiff of smoke and she whirled back around to him. “I knew we were close. Smoke! I smell smoke, cooking smoke. It's the village. We're almost there. We must be close.” She turned and started to run.

“Catla, stop! What are you running into?”

Her heart lurched while her feet skidded to a stop over some loose pebbles. His loud whisper sounded like a roar in her ears. The urgency in his voice scared her.

Sven walked up to her, his forehead furrowed. “Slow down and think.” His lowered voice sounded serious. “We're in a dangerous situation. If we're caught, no one will help our people.” Then more softly, he said, “I don't mean to snarl at you, but we can't afford a mistake.”

Catla's cheeks burned at her recklessness. “Sorry, Sven. I'm anxious. I don't want to slow you down.”

Sven nodded. “You're quick enough, Catla. I count on you. Do you still smell smoke?”

She nodded.

“I don't smell it, but I trust you do. Climb the hill, staying low to the ground behind the elders while you look around. I'll keep watch down here. Maybe it's Aigber. Smoke means people; let's find out who they are.”

Catla turned and picked her way uphill. As she climbed, she scanned the land around. Close to the top she dropped to her hands and knees and then lay flat. She shifted forward under the cover of the bushes. Wisps of smoke rose in front of her into the still air.

Edging closer, she kept her head at ground level until she could see over the rise. Anticipation made her mouth dry. She gasped and dug her fingers into the earth in front of her. Nord-devils in a small group sat at a low flickering fire. New fears grated down her spine.
They'll see me, know I'm here. Keep low. Keep low
. A shiver ran under her ribs and quivered like she'd swallowed water from the winter snows. She might have run into them. She ducked her head and pushed her way back down to Sven. “Nord-devils,” she whispered. Her face felt stone hard.

“How many?”

“Five. They've got swords and axes. Their leather helmets coming over their noses make it look like they don't have any eyes, like they're barrow ghosts or something. Their tunics are black, like the Nord-devils in our village. They must be from the same ship.”

“What are they doing? Did you see a ship?”

“No. I didn't look. They're just sitting. No one moved. Come on, you have to see.” She plucked at the sleeve of his shift and tugged him forward.

They crawled up the hill, Sven following close on Catla's heels. At the top they edged together and lifted their heads to look down to the fire. Catla shuddered to see the enemy so close. Images of her village—the smoke and the axes, the confusion and fear—returned.

The fire had died to a few embers. The men sat at ease, their swords and broadaxes near their hands. Catla saw the River Humber beyond them, but the water's edge was below the bank, out of her view. Sven dug his elbow into her arm and jerked his head. They wormed back downhill.

“Whew,” Sven muttered at the bottom. “That could have been bad. You almost ran into them.”

The knot in Catla's belly tightened. She clutched her middle and asked a quick blessing of Our Lady. At the same time, she knocked her knuckles against a piece of wood, to avert evil. She wanted protection from all sorts of gods. “What are they doing?” she whispered, her mouth next to Sven's ear. “I didn't see a ship. It must be on the river.” Fear at her close brush with danger made her voice shake, and she sat down abruptly, wrapping her arms around her knees to stop them from trembling. She was as close to danger as she'd ever been, and her muscles would not stop twitching. She doubted her legs would hold her if she stood, so she shifted closer to where Sven crouched.

His lips almost brushed her ear when he spoke. “Drink some water. It will settle you. Were you thinking of home?”

Catla nodded and raised her drinking horn to her mouth. “They're so close.”

“I think they're going to Aigber,” Sven whispered back.

“Yes. We have to get there first,” hissed Catla. “There must be more men and a ship. They wouldn't walk from Covehithe.”

“No, they'll have a ship,” Sven spoke in an undertone. “They'll need it to hold the slaves. What will they do next? If they scout the heath, they'll see us, it's so open here. We're in a tricky situation. We'll have to go back up to hide.”

“Behind the bushes.” Catla nodded agreement. She stood to move, her legs almost giving way.

Careful not to disturb even one pebble, they crept back up the hill again. They watched as the men stood, spread the cooling ashes, gathered their swords and axes and looked around. Finally, they turned and gazed directly at the hill. Catla urged herself.
Be ready.
She lowered her head as Sven's eyes brushed hers.

The Nord-devils turned, walked to the river and stepped down a narrow cut in the bank's edge above the water. One by one, they disappeared. For a few long moments Catla dared not move for fear they would reappear. Then she quietly exhaled as Sven touched her shoulder. They crept back down the hill and moved cautiously to the edge of the riverbank, using small bushes as cover. From there they peered at the water.

A ship was easing into the current, headed upriver. “It's going the same direction we are, toward Aigber,” Catla said in a whisper. “They look like the Nord-devils from Covehithe.”

“Yes,” Sven said. “We have to warn Aigber.”

The path was well worn on the far side of the hill. They ran and ran. Catla felt desperate. If the people in Aigber were captured or killed, no one would be saved, not here or in Covehithe. Eventually, she had a stitch in her side and she called to Sven, “I need to walk.” He nodded and waited for her to catch up with him. As she slowed her pace her heart stopped its pounding. Then they topped a small rise.

“I see cottages. There's Aigber. Come on. I think we're in time.” Catla pelted off, her spirits alive again and full of hope. She didn't wait to hear Sven's reply.

CHAPTER FIVE

The Village in the Setting Sun

Catla and Sven hurried along the dusty, narrow pathway between the cottages in Aigber. Her eyes pricked, it looked so familiar, so like home. No one called a greeting, and the village felt eerily quiet. Where was everyone? The path ended at a clearing beside the river cliff, sheltered by a single oak tree. Runes and carved figures scarred its bark. The canopy of leaves, some already brittle and brown, hung over hand-hewn wooden stools, benches and slabs of tree trunks—the place of council. A rusted metal hoop hung from a leather strap over one of the branches. Close by, Catla heard someone pounding stone on wood in the otherwise still air. A knot formed in her empty belly.

“You, you there!” The old man's voice was hard and loud. “What're you doing? Who are you? Where'd you come from? Take off, before I set the dogs on you!”

Catla's voice wobbled at this harsh greeting. “We need help.”

“Vikings! Norsemen!” Sven shouted. “Covehithe is burning.”

“Nord-devils! Nord-devils are coming on the river!” Catla cried. “Call a council. Call everyone!”

The man scowled. “Call a council? Who do you think you are? I've a good mind—” He raised his stick over his head.

“Wulfric, wait! Father.”

Catla turned and saw her mother's friend, Edith, coming from a nearby cottage.

“Father, you know these young folks from Covehithe, the Village in the Morning Sun,” Edith said. “We see them every summer at the gathering.” She turned to them. “Norsemen in Covehithe? Tell me.”

“Edith, I was talking to them first.” The old man's querulous voice protested the interruption.

“I know, Father. You remember Catla and Sven. We have to listen.”

Relief made Catla's body sag, and her voice shook as she reached out and clutched Edith's arm. “Edith, you have to help us! Nord-devils burned Covehithe last day after sunup.” The words tumbled out of Catla's mouth. “I was on the heath so I didn't get caught, but the cottages are burning. Men in black tunics came in a warship.” Catla watched Edith's eyes widen as she listened. “Sven and I saw them again today on land and in their ship. They're coming here, up the river. You're in danger.” Catla pulled Edith's arm closer before she said, “And Edith, I don't know what's happened to my family.”