So near. Little more than a hundred paces stood between myself and Oswynn. My throat was dry and I swallowed to moisten it. Soon I would be able to hold her, as I hadn’t held her in three long years.
‘Go with the girls,’ I told Eithne. ‘Get word to the other slaves. Tell them there’s going to be a battle, but that they have nothing to fear from us. They’ll be safe provided that they stay out of sight of Haakon’s men. So long as they’re ready to leave this place when his hall goes up in flames, I can guarantee them freedom. Can you remember all that?’
‘I think so,’ she replied, somewhat stiffly. ‘I’m not stupid, you know.’
‘Then don’t waste time quarrelling with me. Go now.’
Her eyes betrayed her anxiety, but she did as she was told without further argument. I watched the four of them go, still carrying those pails lest anyone looking on suspected there was something awry.
‘Come on,’ I said to the others. ‘We can’t tarry here.’
A cock crowed, heralding the morning, but that was the only sound to break the stillness. Leaving the horses tethered to a post, we trudged across the muddy yard towards that low building. Icy water seeped into my boots, making my toes numb, as we skirted our way around the tents and the men camped there, walking with purpose but at the same time trying not to make it seem as though we were in a hurry.
Two of Haakon’s huscarls were posted outside the entrance to the stone hall, decked out in mail hauberks that fell past their knees. Their long-handled axes and bright-painted round shields rested up against the wall and they were pacing about, rubbing gloved hands together and blowing into them to try to warm them, muttering to one another and occasionally snorting in laughter. They must be the only people in the whole of Jarnborg, I reckoned, who were not still nursing the effects of the previous night’s feasting. They both cast a glance in our direction as we approached. I tensed, but then after a few heart-seizing moments they turned away to resume their conversation, and paid us no more attention. And why should they? We were, by all appearances, merely four of their countrymen, stretching their limbs on a cold winter’s morning. If they’d seen us at close hand they might have thought differently, but most likely they saw our helmets and guessed we had simply decided to rise early for some sword practice in the yard. Perhaps if they had dwelt on that assumption a little longer, they might have questioned why it was that we four were so keen when everyone else in camp still lay huddled in their blankets. Perhaps then their suspicions might have been aroused. Obviously they were too concerned with other things, however, since no challenge came.
We rounded the main hall, past the stables and the mounds of dung that had been shovelled into heaps outside, towards that low-gabled house. There was no sentry guarding the entrance here, but the door was stout, built of oak or some other heavy timber, and fitted with a sturdy iron lock and ring-handle. I glanced back over my shoulder to see if those two huscarls had followed us, but could not see them, although I heard their laughter from around the corner. Satisfied that no one was watching, I descended the steps towards the door, which was slightly below the level of the ground. I gripped the cold handle, gently twisting it until I heard the latch lift, then pushed, slowly but firmly, more in hope than in expectation, for I didn’t expect to find it unlocked.
But unlocked it was. Silently, without so much as a creak of hinges, the door swung open, much to my surprise. Truly God’s favour was shining upon us that morning.
Without further hesitation we ventured inside. A small, sparsely furnished chamber greeted us. A pair of stools stood in the middle of the floor, on one of which was a lantern, the candle within burnt down to its last inch, while on the other rested a knife with a short, curved blade and a thick handle, and a crude wood-whittling of what I supposed was meant to be a horse, since it had a head and mane and bridle, and the beginnings of a saddle, but for some strange reason the animal had not just four legs, but eight. There was no sign of anyone. Perhaps the sentry had gone to find another candle to work by, in which case we probably didn’t have much time before he returned.
Another door led off this small guardroom, but Magnus tried it and found it locked. ‘No luck,’ he said.
‘We’ll break it down,’ ?lfhelm said as he shrugged off his cloak. ‘Let me—’
‘No,’ I said sharply. ‘If you do that, someone’s bound to hear. You’ll end up bringing every single sword-Dane in this place upon us.’
‘What do you suggest, then?’
I glanced about the chamber, in case perhaps the key had been left lying somewhere, though I knew it was a futile hope.