Again she conferred with the couple, and again I waited for the answer to come back.
‘Three slave-girls, usually, sometimes four, with pails that they carry on poles across their shoulders, together with the same number of guards to stop them from running away.’
‘Danish girls?’ I asked.
Eithne shook her head. ‘Irish, Aife thinks. He brings them back when he returns from his travels, from places across the water. She believes they are badly beaten, since she’s sometimes heard them crying.’
From Dyflin, I’d wager, like Eithne herself. Was it possible that the girls were kinswomen of hers?
And suddenly the beginnings of an idea began to form in my mind. Clearly there was no ready supply of water on the promontory, save for what they could harvest from the rain. But whatever army Haakon was hiding behind those palisades would need plenty, not just to drink and to brew into ale, but to wash and to cook with as well.
‘How old are these girls?’ I asked.
‘What?’ Eithne asked, confused.
I was in no mood to explain at that moment. ‘Just ask them.’
After some discussion between the cowherd and his wife, the answer came back that, although they couldn’t say whether it was always the same ones who came, they tended to be young, somewhere between twelve and eighteen summers, by their reckoning. Around Eithne’s age, in other words.
‘What are you thinking, lord?’ she asked.
I only smiled in what I trusted was an enigmatic fashion, waved my thanks to Tadc and Aife and beckoned for the others to follow as I set off back in the direction of camp. I didn’t want to say, not just yet. Not until I’d had the chance to consider exactly how this might work.
Even so, a shiver of exhilaration ran through me. Exhilaration at the thought of the battle to come. Exhilaration because I sensed that vengeance, justice and honour were at hand.
Because I knew how we would get inside Jarnborg.
‘There has to be another way,’ said Wace, shaking his head, once I’d begun to tell them all of my plan. ‘A simpler way.’
The day was growing old, and dark clouds once more hung over us, threatening rain at any moment. We were gathered by the campfire, sharing bread and passing around flagons of ale: Magnus and ?lfhelm, Eudo and Wace, Aubert and myself.
‘Is there no other way in or out of Jarnborg?’ Eudo asked Magnus, who had been scouting the surrounding land that afternoon.
‘None,’ ?lfhelm growled.
‘We ventured as close as we dared to its walls,’ Magnus offered more helpfully. ‘We spied what looked like a doorway on the north-western side, with a path leading down to a sandy cove where they could unload supplies, but it’s been blocked up, while the cliff-face below it has crumbled away, and most of the path with it. The approach might still be climbable, for someone with sufficient knowledge and experience, but not in mail and with a shield strapped to one’s back. The only other way in or out that we could see remains through the gatehouse.’
‘You’re certain of that, are you?’ Wace asked, regarding him dubiously.
‘As certain as I can be,’ Magnus replied. ‘Would you rather go scouting those slopes yourself?’
To that Wace made no reply.
‘If we’re to have any chance of victory, we need to bring him out from behind the protection of his palisades,’ I said. ‘As I see it, there’s only one certain way of doing that.’
‘Attacking his ships,’ Eudo murmured.
I nodded. ‘What are Danes known for, if not their love of their boats? Without them Haakon can’t very well go raiding in the spring, can he? So if we make an attack on them, I’ll wager that he’ll come running to defend them.’
‘They’re well guarded,’ Magnus said. ‘He already has forty-one sword-and spear-Danes posted there. We counted them.’
‘That won’t be enough to fend off two boatloads of battle-hungry warriors,’ I replied. ‘For that he’ll need to send the larger part of his host down from Jarnborg.’
‘Which he’ll do as soon as he guesses what we’re up to,’ Aubert said. ‘And from atop that promontory, he’ll be able to see us coming from miles away. Even before we’ve entered the bay, he’ll have gathered enough spearmen to make a landing all but impossible.’
‘So long as we can scare him into coming out from his fortress, nothing else matters,’ I said. ‘The point is not to bring him to battle, at least not at first.’
Aubert frowned. ‘If the point isn’t to bring him to battle, then what is?’
‘To distract him.’
‘Distract him from what?’ Wace asked.
I grinned. ‘From the second prong of our attack.’ And I told them of my plan to slip unnoticed, together with a handful of men, inside Jarnborg.