Knights of the Hawk (Conquest #3)

‘Then make sure your sword is always at hand,’ I said. ‘And stay together. They’re less likely to try anything if we keep close.’


We continued in silence. I found a merchant selling the tufted cloaks that Snorri had praised so highly, and handed over a clutch of silver in exchange for five of his finest. Winter was fast approaching; almost everywhere the branches were bare, having finally cast off the robes they had clung to since summer, the robes that once had been full of brightness but which the turning of the seasons had made drab. Each dawn when we awoke was colder than the last. Across the city the thatch upon the houses and the workshops was covered with frost, and that morning we had stepped outside to find all the puddles in the street hard with ice. It was a good thing that Nihtegesa was, by then, seaworthy again, the rot having been discovered to be less severe than at first we’d feared.

‘I’m told she’s still letting in some water, but all ships leak to a greater or lesser extent,’ Magnus had told me. ‘So long as we make sure to bail her now and then, she’ll do fine. Were we travelling to Ysland or anywhere across the open sea, I’d want her in better condition, but she’ll suffice for where we want to go.’

Even so, he had insisted upon waiting another day or two in case any more of his retainers showed themselves. Had the decision been mine, I would have set out straightaway rather than delay for the sake of a couple more swords and risk the wind changing in the meantime. Since they were his men and it was his ship, however, I’d had little choice but to defer to him.

‘This whole expedition is folly, lord,’ Pons muttered after we had been walking a while longer. ‘Coming here to Dyflin is one thing, but now you want us to venture in winter across the northern seas, and all in pursuit of a woman.’ He nodded towards a slim, freckled Irish girl of perhaps sixteen summers who was helping her mother, herself far from unattractive, carry rolls of cloth. ‘There are women here, lord!’

‘Oswynn isn’t just any woman,’ I said. ‘She’s my woman.’

‘Truthfully, lord, what chance do you think you have of claiming her back, assuming that she still lives, or that this Haakon hasn’t sold her to one of his pirate friends?’

‘She was alive and in his company when Eithne met them a few months ago.’

‘And happy, lord?’

I stared at him. ‘What?’

Serlo frowned and placed a hand on his sword-brother’s shoulder. ‘Pons,’ he said warningly.

But Pons wasn’t about to listen. ‘Did Eithne ever tell you whether she seemed happy in his company?’

I glanced at the girl, who hadn’t understood what we were saying, although she couldn’t have failed to hear her name, spoken in harsh tones. Her cheeks had turned pale. She sensed something was amiss, even if she couldn’t be sure what.

‘Ask her,’ said Pons. ‘Ask her now.’

‘No,’ I said, doing my best to restrain my anger. ‘I’m not going to ask her. I don’t need to.’

Why? Because I was afraid of what the answer might be? Afraid to learn that all this effort to which I’d gone was, in fact, for naught? Afraid to find myself bereft of any cause to fight for?

‘What is it, lord?’ Eithne asked me in English.

‘Nothing,’ I muttered. ‘It’s nothing.’

‘You’ve said yourself that it’s been nearly three years since you were last with her, lord,’ Pons said. ‘Even if we do find her, and even if you manage to bury your sword-point in Haakon’s throat, that doesn’t mean she’ll necessarily thank you for it.’

I stopped in the middle of the street. ‘She will. I know it. And besides, what else is there for me? For us. Tell me that.’

Pons didn’t answer straightaway. Men and women shouted at us in tongues I didn’t understand, berating us for getting in their way as they tried to roll barrels and drive oxen up the way, but I paid them no heed. If Pons did not support me in this, then I needed to know. My mind was already made up, for I was going with Magnus to whatever fate awaited me in the north. But I had no place on this expedition for men who would not give their all in this cause.

‘Well?’ I demanded.

‘I don’t know, lord,’ Pons said eventually.

‘Serlo?’

He took a deep breath, and his hesitation betrayed his uncertainty. He glanced sidelong at Pons before turning back to me. ‘I’m with you, lord, as always. But that doesn’t mean I’m altogether happy about it.’

Pons nodded in agreement. I supposed that was the best I could hope for. That they had followed me this far, without so much as a murmur of dissent until this moment, was testament to their loyalty, and a reminder of how much I owed them.

‘What about you, Godric?’ I asked. ‘You, at least, could return to England, if you’d rather not come with me.’

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