Page 65 of Summer of the Viking

Gode crossed her arms. ‘If you think you are getting rid of me that easily, my lady, you have another think coming. I was wrong to fall asleep. I mean to make amends. I am coming with you.’

‘At the first hint of any trouble, you are to return here. I will not risk losing you, Gode.’

The old lady’s eyes filled with tears. ‘We all have to go some time, my lady.’

‘Is there something you are not telling me, Gode?’

Gode adopted a guileless expression. ‘Have I ever kept a secret from you, my lady?’

Once she had found Urien, she would question Gode closer. Gode was hiding something from her, something important. ‘You had better not.’

* * *

Valdar crouched down on the top of the ridge, watching the inlet. Girmir and his crew would be back. He could feel it in his bones. The place was perfect for beaching a long boat. That Girmir had used it before gave him hope. Girmir was a creature of habit. He had sacrificed the lad here. He would return here. He had to hope that it happened before they attacked and destroyed any more property.

‘And you are sure you saw the dragon ship here?’ he asked Oswald, who sat on a nearby rock, copying Valdar’s every move.

Since his trip to the cove, he found Oswald had become his shadow. First secretly following him about and then more openly. Valdar found little jobs for him to do in exchange for his teaching him how to use a sword. There was a hunger in the lad to be a warrior. Valdar silently promised that he would make sure he reached his goal. Precisely how he would accomplish this, he wasn’t sure.

The boy nodded. ‘Why does no one believe me?’

‘It helps when you have a reputation for telling the truth. Once it is lost, it takes time to recover, but it can be done. I have seen it happen many times. You need to show everyone that you are a man of honour. Eventually they will believe because you believe. Or so my father once told me.’

Valdar realised with a start that he could apply the same logic here, if he found Girmir and dispatched him. Alwynn would never have to know.

Oswald’s eyes shone. ‘You once told tall tales?’

‘I was a boy like you. Far from here, but I, too, wanted things to be exciting. Then I learnt that hard work can have its own rewards.’

‘When I grow up I want to be a warrior. I want to fight in battles and gain glory. I don’t want to have to grind corn.’

‘There is more to life than glory. Men need to eat.’

‘You can say that because you live somewhere else, not this backwater of a place.’

‘Where I live is not so very different from this place. The people are the same. They want to live their lives without being molested.’

‘And where is that?’

Something stuck in Valdar’s throat. His lie was one of omission. And every day it seemed to get bigger. It didn’t help that Raumerike felt like a dream. Northumbria was far more real. He cared about its people. One person. More than he thought possible. And if she discovered the truth, any feelings she had for him would turn to dust. ‘A long way from here. Across the sea.’

‘Have you ever battled the Northmen?’

He gave a laugh and ruffled the boy’s hair, but his insides clenched. Lately he had told so many half-truths. And his heritage didn’t matter. It was how he lived his life now. ‘When the occasion demanded it.’

‘And you survived?’

‘They are men like any other.’

Oswald frowned. ‘I thought the raid on Lindisfarne was the first time anyone had heard of the barbarians from the North. And I know all the names of the men who fought during St Cuthbert’s storm. Yours was not amongst them.’

‘Maybe here, but where I come from, no. We had heard of them.’ Valdar looked out at the shimmering sea. ‘Describe precisely what you saw the other day. I need to know every single detail. How many men do you think you saw? Can you describe any of them?’

Oswald began to recite his story again. Valdar listened intently. Somewhere in the boy’s retelling would be the clue he needed to prevent a massacre.

The boy broke off his monologue and pointed. ‘Tell me you see it.’

‘See what?’

He pointed towards the horizon. ‘A sail.’

Valdar tightened his grip on his sword. He could see something which might be a sail, but it was far too early to tell. ‘Good lad. You have excellent eyes. What shape is it?’

‘What do we do now? Meet them at the shore?’

‘We wait. We watch. We see what sort of sail it is. It might not be a Northman’s sail at all. Running off to tell everyone can just lead to people thinking you don’t speak the truth. Wait until you know for certain.’

---