The White Raven (37 page)

I looked at the baleful wink of that coin, Volsung silver, part of the hoard of the dragon Fafnir, the one Sigurd had killed and the cursed gift Odin had promised us. I felt Hild's presence then, as if cold, invisible fingers stretched out of that hole, seeking me, the sword, the coins . . .

I did not much care for the memory; she was down that hole, I could feel her and remembered her, black against the dark, stalking us with that light-curve of sword, the twin of my own. It was no surprise to me that Lambisson had not been heard of for some time and I would happily have left him there — but for Eldgrim.

No, not even him, if the truth of it was being laid out. I liked the little man well enough, but it was not him alone that would take me back into the black maw of Atil's hov. It was bone, blood and steel, a fear greater than the one I had for finding mad Hild waiting at the bottom, all white-eyed and armed with the twin of my sabre.

It was fear of breaking the Oath and what One Eye inflicted on all those who did.

'Put that back.'

The sandpiper voice snapped me round, to where a furious Vladimir glowered at Finn, little fists on his hips. 'No-one is to loot my silver.
No-one.'

Finn's grin faded. He looked at me, then back to the pinch-faced little prince and saw which quarter the wind blew from. He shrugged and flicked his thumb, never taking his scowl off the prince's face, and the coin arced back into the cart it had come from.

Vladimir, his scowl merely turned to a boyish, petulant pout, glared pointedly at me — then Dobrynya moved in, smooth as oil, suggesting we all manhandle the silver-laden carts across the ice and off the island.

He followed his prince at a respectful two paces.

'We should kill them all now,' Finn growled at their disappearing backs and my look answered him —

there were too few of us for that and we could not count on any but ourselves.

'Besides,' I finished, 'even the gods of Asgard would be hard put to help us if we cut down a prince of Novgorod, a son of Sviatoslay. Those two brothers of his might be rivals — but they will not embrace us for such a killing.'

Finn thought, then shrugged and went off without another word, picking his teeth with a filthy, horny fingernail; the swagger of him told me he had seen the sense of what I said, yet it was of no account. When the time came . . .

Silver smoothed matters. The Slavs and my Oathsworn fell to moving it cheerfully enough — it was their loot, they had all decided –– while Thorgunna and Thordis made sure a camp was made in the lee of all the carts. As fires flowered and the day sank into leaden cold night, I saw that Avraham and Morut were gone.

We had meat and bread, a measure of warmth and shelter — so, of course, the proper divisions slid back to us. The
druzhina
sat apart from the Oathsworn, rowdy round their own blaze, while the prince and his two pillars sat apart from us all, heads together — but Crowbone sat with us, almost buried in a once-white fur cloak and that warmed me a little.

But the fret of Short Eldgrim was on me and drove out all else — I wanted to be down that hole and yet, to my shame, used the excuse Finn brought up, about food and warmth first, to avoid sliding down into the tomb.

I looked at Finn while Thorgunna and Thordis stirred and served and the Oathsworn horn-spooned horsemeat into the spaces in their beards, chaffering and grinning and growling like pleasured cats. We were in a waste that still froze the nose off your face, with only
wadmal
for shelter and stringy horse and water to eat, yet compared to before, we were all grunting-content with life.

Well, not
all
.

'Those cowholes are being sleekit,' Finn growled, none too quietly. Jon Asanes glanced across at the prince's fire, then frowned back at Finn.

'He is a prince,' he said. 'An eagle among sparrows. You do him injustice calling him sleekit.'

Finn worked grease into his beard and cheeks, good proofing against the cold and looked Jon up and down, shaking his head.

'You learned a lot in Holmgard, right enough,' he declared. 'How to yabber in a dozen tongues and count in most of them. But you missed much, young Goat Boy. Like how eagles are not above stealing another bird's kill, for a start.'

Jon flared, bright as the fire with temper. He rose and I thought, for a heart-stopping moment, that he would fling himself at Finn, an act so beyond belief that being struck by Thor's hammer seemed more likely.

Instead he quivered on the cusp of it, red and raging.

'The eagle is a noble bird. That is why you will never be a prince, Finn Horsehead,' he said in a trembling high voice. 'You do not have enough eagle in you.'

He stormed off and Finn watched him, then shook his head and pulled a bone needle from behind his remaining ear. 'I preferred him when he bounced like a goat and wanted to know everything,' he growled, picking his teeth. 'Now he knows it all and tears around like a high wind through trees.'

'Whim rules the child as weather the field, as my granny once remarked,' Red Njal growled.

'She knew the Goat Boy well,' Finn muttered sourly.

'Heys — what do you know?' Red Njal answered, chuckling. 'You do not have enough eagle in you.'

The needle broke and Finn sighed into the laughter and shook his head sadly.

'True enough — but I am beginning to think our little Greek has had some Rus eagle in him,' he leered moodily and pitched the broken needle away.

There was silence at that, while everyone turned over in their head what they believed they knew about the unnatural passions of Greeks. I was blinking with the stun of it when Thorgunna whirlwinded in, harsh and anger-bright as embers.

'That is unworthy, of you, of Jon Asanes and of the young prince. If I were a man, Finn Horsehead, I would smack you to the floor and make it so that you could only eat meat someone else had chewed, for lack of teeth of your own.'

Finn, knowing he had sailed too far on this course even to back water, simply hunched into Thorgunna's rage and stayed shamefacedly silent, scratching the red cold sores on his knuckles until they bled. Everyone else, however, sat and chewed horse-gristle and tried not to think too deeply on Jon, his love of verse, his closeness with Pai and how it was well-known that Greeks were boy-lovers and Slavs lascivious.

Thordis plucked Finn's empty bowl from his knees and handed him one of her own bone needles. 'Here,'

she said flatly. 'Pick your teeth. Not only will it make what you say sweeter, it will keep you from speaking at all for some time.'

'A woman, a dog and an old oak tree,' muttered Finn, taking the needle. Everyone silently finished the old saw for him — the more you beat them, the better they be. No-one said it aloud, all the same, not even Red Njal's granny

Thorgunna snorted, clattering bowls and heaping snow in a cauldron to melt. 'Little Olaf, if you have a story now is a good time to hoik it out.'

It was a pointed remark, since folk had grown so used to the boy's presence they had all but forgotten him — but now heads turned to where the boy perched, friend to prince and Goat Boy alike and he smiled into Finn's scowl, though it never reached either of his different-coloured eyes.

'There was an eagle,' he began and I held up a warning hand to him, for his stories bit like a dog on the hand that feeds it and there had been enough discord. I said as much and he shrugged his bony shoulders under the dirty white cloak.

'I will hear it,' growled a voice and we all turned to where Kvasir huddled, a cloth across both eyes, for his good one ached, he said, in the bright of the fire. He asked for the tale for Thorgunna's sake, I knew and I cursed him for it. Silently.

'There was an eagle,' Crowbone began, once I had nodded agreement. 'Young and in the first of his strength. Long ago it was — do not ask me when — and in a place far from here — do not ask me where —

in the time wyrm were still seen above ground and not curled in the secret earth on a bed of gold.'

'If there is gold in it, this sounds like a tale I will like,' Finnlaith interrupted cheerfully, but Ospak nudged him silent.

'There was such a wyrm,' Crowbone went on, 'and the eagle and the wyrm were friends, or so the wyrm believed, for he took pleasure in the eagle's company and was lavish with his generosity in his cosy hov, so that the eagle returned again and again.'

‘Heya,' agreed Hauk, grinning. 'I also have tasted the wyrm's generosity.' And he hoisted up his wooden cup to me, as if it was a mead-full horn and we were all in such a cosy hov.

Others chuckled, echoing the sentiment; so the allusion to my name was well made and quickly, too. Nor was it hard to work out who the eagle was and I felt despair creep in and curl up in my belly. This would be his worst tale yet, for sure.

'Each time the eagle flew away,' Crowbone went on in his wind-thin little voice, 'he laughed, because he could enjoy the hospitality of the wyrm in his hov on the ground, but the wyrm could never reach the eagle's eyrie, which was so far above the wyrm's place.'

'Not enough eagle in you, either, Orm,' chuckled Red Njal.

'The eagle's frequent visits, his selfishness and ingratitude became the talk of the other beasts and one thought it best to tell the wyrm of it,' Crowbone continued, ignoring the interruption.

'The eagle and the frog were never on speaking terms, for the eagle was accustomed to swooping down to carry a frog home for supper, so the frog called on the wyrm and told him. The wyrm did not believe him, so the frog said, "Next time the eagle calls, ask him to give you a lidded cauldron, so that you can also send food to the rest of the eaglets in their eyrie."

'So he did and the eagle brought a huge lidded cauldron, enjoyed a feast and, as he left he called out, "I will be back for the present for my eyrie." Then he flew away laughing to himself as usual. The frog said,

"Now, wyrm, get into the cauldron. I will cover you over with fresh food, then the lid and the eagle will carry you to his hov in the high crags."'

'I do not care for this frog much,' Finn grumbled. 'Sleekit.'

'You are not yet done picking all your teeth,' Thordis told him and he shrugged, but fell silent.

'Presently,' Crowbone went on, 'the eagle returned and flew away with the cauldron, little suspecting that the wyrm was inside, listening to every word the eagle said as it flew. They were as harsh as the frog had described, so that the wyrm was smouldering by the time the cauldron was emptied out into the eyrie.

'The wyrm crawled from it and said, "Friend eagle, you have so often visited my home that I thought it would be nice to enjoy the hospitality of yours."

'The eagle was furious. "I will peck the flesh from your bones," he said — but he only hurt his beak against the wyrm's scales.

'The wyrm, saddened, said, "I see what sort of friendship you offer me. Take me home, for our pact is at an end." The furious eagle sank his talons into the wyrm's scales, which did not hurt the serpent one bit, and lifted him into the air. "I will fling you to the ground and you will be smashed to bits in your fall," shrieked the eagle. The wyrm closed its own fangs on the eagle's leg.'

'He should just have breathed on him,' shouted Onund. 'Smouldered him to smoke.'

It was so unexpected an outburst from him that it brought gusts of laughter and the hunchback, unaccustomed to the attention, dropped his neck down and his hump up and went quiet again.

'He would have singed the eagle's feathers, right enough,' offered Finn pointedly. 'Fried him up, there and then. Why did he not do that in this tale, little Crowbone, eh?'

'And been stuck, unable to get home?' retorted Crowbone. 'The wyrm has much more clever in him than you, Finn Horsehead.'

'That is why he is jarl,' added Gyrth pointedly to Finn, 'and you are not.'

That brought more chuckles and catcalls at Finn's expense, which made him grin and scowl in equal measure. Then Kvasir slapped his thigh with one hand, sharp and loud and silencing.

'I asked for this tale — now let us hear how it ends.'

Crowbone acknowledged his marshalling with a slight bow, then cleared his throat.

'The eagle groaned and moaned,' he continued. 'He demanded to be let go. He turned three times red and three times white, he threatened and then he begged to be released. "I will gladly do so when you set me down at my own home," said the wyrm.'

Here, Crowbone muffled it out like someone talking and biting at the same time. It was so like Finn with his Roman nail in his mouth that thighs were slapped and appreciative roars went up.

'The eagle flew high,' Crowbone went on. 'Then he flew low. He darted down with the speed of an arrow.

He shook his leg. He turned and twirled, but it was to no purpose. He could not rid himself of the wyrm until he set him down safely in front of the door of his own hov.

'As the eagle flew away the wyrm called after him, "Friendship requires the contribution of two parties. I welcome you and you welcome me. Since, however, you have chosen to make a mockery of it, you need not call again."

'And so it is that wyrms took to the dark places of the earth, for they did not trust in eagles, or anyone else, not to steal from them.'

'Share your wealth, or men will wish you ill in every limb,' Red Njal added, but did not have time to speak of his granny, for Dobrynya had stepped into the last lines of Crowbone's tale. He did not acknowledge that he had heard any of it, nor show that he knew what had been meant by it, only nodded to me and made a little movement of his fire-bloody beard to draw me apart.

I went to him, while the mutter and growls and low laughs started behind me and my men, who had not missed the point of Crowbone's tale, fell to arguing over it.

'The prince has decided that we must go to Biela Viezha,' Dobrynya said softly, giving Sarkel its Rus name. 'We will take all the horses we have and use them to haul out the carts of silver we have here and one with supplies. We will then get more supplies and carts and horses from Biela Viezha and return. I have sent Avraham and Morut ahead, to see how matters are in the fortress.'