Viking Boy (11 page)

Finally it turned, whipping round to screech at Viglaf and his crew.

Viglaf recoiled, crashing into the men behind him. The rest of the crew were equally startled. Some ran for the stern, others dived behind the benches, a few retreated with swords raised or spears held out.

Thorkel had backed off too. Only Rurik didn’t move. He shook his head in wonderment. “I’m impressed, Gunnar,” he said. “That’s quite a trick.”

Viglaf slowly stood up. The eagle studied him, its great head cocked to one side as if it were trying to work out whether he might be good to eat.

“I’ve voyaged on every sea and seen strange things in many lands,” muttered Viglaf. “But I’ve never seen anything like this. Are you a sorcerer, boy?”

“Perhaps I am,” said Gunnar. “Or perhaps I’m just a boy who needs to fulfil an oath he swore. Now will you take me to the Land of Ice and Fire?”

“If it’s Iceland you mean,” Viglaf said cautiously, “we’d need to go west, and we’re supposed to be heading east, back into the Baltic…” The eagle screeched more loudly this time. Viglaf ducked behind a bench. “All right!” he yelled. “I’ll take you wherever you like! What else do you want?”

“Since you ask,” said Rurik, “you can take his thrall ring off.” Gunnar turned to stare at his master, and the big man returned his gaze. Neither of them spoke.

“Fine,” said Viglaf. “But first he can turn that thing back into a prow.”

Gunnar looked at the eagle, unsure what to do. He thought for a moment, then put his hand on the spot where he had placed the feather. Immediately the eagle turned to face the sea once more. Gunnar felt the magical life flowing out of it until at last the same bedraggled feather lay in his palm. He laughed, and the gulls hovering over the waves seemed to squawk with pleasure too.

Gunnar sat on a chest in the middle of the ship. One of Viglaf’s men, a young, red-haired Viking called Erlend, worked nervously on the thrall ring with a file. Thorkel and Rurik stood looking on, arms folded. Viglaf and the rest of the crew had retreated to the stern for the time being and watched from there.

“The join is broken,” said Erlend at last. He gripped the ring, getting his hands between it and Gunnar’s neck, but he couldn’t pull it open.

“Here, let me,” Rurik said. He took the ring in his hands and stretched it wide, as if nothing could be easier. Then he handed it to Gunnar. “You are no longer a slave, Gunnar,” he said. “I give you your freedom.”

Gunnar stared down at the twisted piece of metal. After a moment he raised his eyes to Rurik. “I owe you a silver arm ring for this, don’t I?”

“Not any more. You paid your debt when you saved my life.”

Gunnar rubbed his neck, then rose to his feet and went over to the gunwale. He remembered his months as a slave, all the curses and kicks, all the insults he had endured. Then he threw the thrall ring as far as he could, watching it spin through the spray-filled air and plunge into the sea with a small splash.

The ship skimmed across the waves towards Iceland – and Valhalla.

T
HEY HUGGED THE
coastline for the first few days, then Viglaf turned the
Sea Eagle
westwards, out into the open sea. He and his crew were wary of Gunnar at first, but their fear soon wore off when he didn’t perform any more sorcery.

One night Gunnar was sitting with Rurik. Viglaf had left Erlend at the steerboard and was playing a game of knuckle-bones with Thorkel amidships, and most of the others were asleep. A light breeze filled the sail, the sea gently hissing by beneath the hull. It was summer now, and the sky was never fully dark, the horizon lined with a faint glow even in the middle of the night.

“I’ve been thinking, Rurik,” said Gunnar. “I know Odin has helped me, but he hasn’t exactly made things easy, has he? Why did he let Gauk sell me as a slave? Why did I have to spend more than half a year in Kaupang?”

“The Gods cannot live your life for you, Gunnar,” said Rurik. “A man must deal with whatever his fate throws at him. Be thankful Odin has helped you so far, and that he might help you again. In the meantime you must do what you can to help yourself, as you already have done, and bravely, too.”

“But what if I can’t fulfil my oath? What if I fail?” It was the question that filled Gunnar’s daytime thoughts and haunted his dreams at night.

“What if you don’t?” said Rurik, grinning. “A boy journeying to Valhalla and bringing his father back from the dead? Now that will be a tale to tell! The skalds will make poems about it that will be sung till the day of Ragnarok! I can almost hear it now, ‘The Saga of Gunnar the Fierce’.” Rurik began to chant in the way that skalds sang their verses, his deep voice rising and falling.

Gunnar stared at Rurik, amazed to hear such powerful words coming from his mouth. But he loved the image it had created in his mind, that of Gunnar the Fierce, relentless in his quest for vengeance, the heads of his enemies rolling before him. “I didn’t know you were a skald, Rurik,” he said, smiling.

“He isn’t much of one,” grunted Thorkel, who had come to join them. “Listen, Gunnar, I want to talk to you. We need to be practical. Taking your revenge on this Skuli isn’t going to be easy, even if Odin agrees to let your father out of Valhalla. However good a warrior your father is, he’ll need some men.”

“He’s a
great
warrior,” said Gunnar. “And he’ll have you and Rurik, won’t he?” Gunnar almost said that he would be beside them too, but he knew it wouldn’t matter if he was there. What was it Father had said the night Skuli had come to the steading –
this will be men’s work
? And he was still a boy.

“Even great warriors sometimes need help, Gunnar,” said Rurik.

“What about Viglaf and his crew?” said Thorkel. “They certainly know how to fight. Maybe Odin led you to the
Sea Eagle
for that very reason.”

“Do you think so? Viglaf doesn’t seem to like us much.”

“Viglaf can be a grumpy oaf,” Thorkel said with a wry smile. “And liking us is neither here nor there. He’s a Viking, and if he believes there’s gold to be had in an adventure, he’ll be right behind you. He was awed by your sorcery with the prow, and I’m sure he could be persuaded to help you and your father.”

“What was he doing in Kaupang?” Gunnar asked.

“You mean was he there to sell slaves?” said Thorkel. “Not this time. He came to buy food, fill his water barrels, give his men a few days on land before they go raiding again. But I’d be lying if I told you Viglaf never took captives to sell as slaves. It’s a rare Viking who doesn’t if there’s a profit to be had.”

Gunnar frowned and turned to Rurik. The big man shrugged.

“Beggars can’t be choosers, Gunnar,” he said. “A wise warrior uses the weapons to hand, even if they’re not as good as the ones he’d like.”

Gunnar thought for a moment, then he shrugged too. “Will you speak to him, Thorkel?” he asked. “I can offer him glory, but not gold. Not yet, anyway.”

“We don’t have to tell him that,” said Thorkel, winking. “Hey, Viglaf…”

Gunnar watched Thorkel go, but his mind was full of fighting, images of blades rising and falling, Skuli and Grim and all the Wolf Men paying with their lives for the evil they had done. Then he lay down to sleep, smiling fiercely, wishing that he could truly be the avenging Gunnar of Rurik’s poem.

Three days later they turned north and the sea grew grey, the sun hiding behind black clouds. Then one morning Gunnar woke to a world of hushed voices and quiet splashing. The
Sea Eagle
was surrounded by a mist so thick it was impossible to see the ship’s prow from the stern. Gunnar threw off the furs he had been wrapped in and made his way forward. Rurik and Thorkel were already by the prow, peering into the mist, Viglaf close beside them.

“What’s happening?” whispered Gunnar. The sail had been furled, and the crew were at their benches, gently dipping and raising their oars.

“Viglaf thinks there’s land ahead,” said Thorkel. “But we don’t know how far because of the mist and we have to take it slowly, in case of rocks.”

“Is it the Land of Ice and Fire?” said Gunnar.

“It had better be, or we’re badly lost,” growled Viglaf. He turned and yelled, looking upwards and cupping his hands round his mouth. “Can you see anything yet, Einar?” Viglaf had a loud voice, but the mist seemed to deaden it.

“Just mist and more mist,” replied Einar Squint-Eye, Viglaf’s best look-out man. He was clinging to the top of the mast. “Wait, I think it’s clearing…”

Gunnar felt the breeze stirring. The mist ahead started to swirl and they all leaned forward, straining their eyes to see something, anything.

“Steady as she goes, lads,” growled Viglaf. “Somebody tell Erlend to put us on a straight course.” More voices relayed Viglaf’s order to Erlend in the stern, and Gunnar felt the
Sea Eagle
twitch as Erlend moved the steerboard.

Suddenly the breeze strengthened and tore gaps in the mist. Gunnar glimpsed massive, dark shapes looming in the distance. It was a chain of mountains, their peaks covered in snow, huge glaciers gripping their flanks. Below them lay a jagged shoreline of rocks and cliffs with skirts of seething white foam.

“Well, that looks like Iceland to me,” said Viglaf, turning to Gunnar. “Is there a particular place you want to go? Most of the settlements are on the coast.”

Gunnar felt the eyes of all three men on him. He hadn’t thought about where in the Land of Ice and Fire he would find Bifrost, but he was sure Odin would somehow show him where to go.

“Just take us to wherever it’s easy to land,” he said. “But not near a settlement. I want to stay as far away from people as possible.”

“I can understand that,” grunted Thorkel. “Do as the boy says, Viglaf.”

Viglaf ordered Erlend to follow the coastline. Soon the mist had gone and the wind grew strong enough for them to raise the sail. Gunnar stood by the prow, studying the shore, looking for any kind of sign, perhaps even Odin himself. But there was nothing, and the only creatures Gunnar saw were crowds of wheeling, screeching gulls, none of them remotely interested in him.

“Hey, Viglaf!” yelled Einar Squint-Eye after a while. “A beach, over there!”

Viglaf peered in the direction Einar was pointing. “Seems as good a place as any,” Viglaf said with a shrug. “Right, lads, let’s take her in. Steady now.”

Moments later the keel of the
Sea Eagle
crunched onto the beach and they came to a halt. Rurik jumped down from the gunwale beside the prow and landed in the sea, the water over his knees. He looked up at Gunnar.

“Come on,” he said. “The Land of Ice and Fire awaits you.”

Gunnar took a deep breath – and jumped down beside him.

V
IGLAF GOT THE
crew to haul the
Sea Eagle
out of the sea and make camp. The beach was narrow, the sand coarse and grey, almost black. A path twisted upwards between tumbled rocks, but mist still clung to the cliff tops and it was impossible to see where it led. Gunnar stood at the bottom looking up.