“Is our jarl going mad?” Brant asked as we walked through the cover of trees toward the English palace. Six of my closest warriors surrounded us, soldiers I knew I could trust without question.
I had been expecting such a question, having seen the mania that seemed to dance in Magnus’ eyes as he explained his month-long plan to infiltrate the English kingdom. To the surprise of us all, the jarl had made it clear that he wanted his spoils to include more than just English gold—if there was even any left. He wanted to bring the monarchy to its knees. Magnus was sure of the inevitable success of his plan, convinced that if we could infiltrate the ranks of the guards, we could cause the Britons to implode upon themselves. Perhaps with enough men, such a dangerous plan might be plausible, but it was not only the English army with which we had to contend. The king of Tara had arrived in Britannia ahead of us and would remain for some time, courting his future queen. While the state of Magnus’ sanity was debatable, but his intellect was sound. He had picked precisely this time to invade due to the presence of the second king. Two kings meant twice as much treasure, not to mention the bride-price that would be exchanged.
Even if Magnus’ invasion was a fool’s errand, the jarl still had too many loyal soldiers. My own soldiers and I would not be able to overthrow Magnus if dissent erupted within the clan. It was better to bide my time and wait for the others to grasp the danger into which their jarl was leading them. I only hoped they did not come to the realization too late.
“He is power hungry,” I told my lieutenant, my voice low as we drew closer to the palace walls.
“He will ruin us.” Amund joined in. “How can the others not see that?”
“They are blinded by their own greed,” Kjell said in the gravelly voice familiar to those who knew him.
“Why are we doing this, Torben?” Amund asked.
“Because, at the moment, we have no other choice.”
“Has the Oracle seen anything that would benefit us?” Brant asked.
I was tempted to tell them of the prophecy, but something stayed my tongue. I did not know if I was being protective of the female my mother claimed would be mine, or if I was afraid of altering the outcome. So, I shook my head and left it at that.
As we crested a small hill, I got a sinking feeling in my gut. There was something evil prowling inside the castle walls. I didn’t know how I knew, other than that I could feel an ominous presence. Even though I did not yet know the English princess, my instincts screamed to get her out of that dark place. I was still without any idea on how to persuade her to leave with me willingly, and I did not like the idea of abducting her, but kidnapping might be my only option.
I signaled for the men to follow me, and moved swiftly to the wall, not wanting to be seen by the guards patrolling above. Once our backs were pressed firmly against the stone, we began walking, our steps completely silent. The only thing threatening to betray our presence were the muted shadows of our forms following us on the ground.
I rounded a corner of the castle wall and my hopes were confirmed. An arched opening rested at the bottom of the structure—the main drainage system for the entire castle. While the walls of most palaces held a similar apparatus for removing castle waste, some had figured out ways to create drains that did not weaken the structure of the wall. Such an undertaking was expensive, and only the richest kingdoms upgraded to the stronger design.
We hurried forward and pushed against the iron grate. The stone overhanging the arch shielded us from above, and even though I suspected that no one would see us in the shadows of the crevice, I didn’t want to linger. A small trickle of water flowed past our feet, eventually spilling into the castle’s moat. There, it would enter a drainage ditch that would most likely take it to a nearby river. Pushing aside all thought of what might be drained through the mote, I focused on finding the hinges I hoped were on the sides of the grate.
“Are there hinges on that side?” I whisper-yelled to Brant, who stood across from me on the other side of the drain.
He nodded, and I scuttled across the water to stand next to him. There were five large metal tubes housing large pins that held the grate in place. We needed only to force the heavy grate upward high enough to pop it loose.
“It will take all of us to lift it,” I said as I motioned for the five other men to join Brant and I at the grate. We each grabbed onto the metal bars and lowered our legs for leverage.
“On three,” I told them. “One, two, three.” All at once, we pushed up, using our arms and shoulders to lift. It did not budge.
“Again,” I said once I had let them rest. I counted, and we strained once more against the iron, grunting as silently as we could. Again, the grate refused to move.
“It’s no use,” Brant said. “The hinges have rusted. Who knows how long it has been since this accursed grate has been opened, if ever. Let me go to work with Eve, and it’ll soon be loosed.” Brant fingered the quarter-stone sledge that hung from his belt. The warrior named all his hammers after women. I’d asked him about this once, and he replied that the only thing that could break a man quicker than a hammer blow was a woman. Because of the covert nature of this mission, we’d all left our battle weapons back at the camp, which is why he wasn’t lugging his huge war hammer, Bertha. Each of us carried only a dagger with us, save Brant, who, of course, had no use for “maiden pokers,” so he carried his small hammer, Eve.
“Way too loud.” I grunted. “Do you want to bring the whole of the king’s guard down upon us?”
“Let them come,” he said with the growl of a wolf.
“We need a distraction.” Rush suggested.
“Any ideas?” Amund asked the five other men.
“Fire?” Delvin asked.
“Why are you always looking for reasons to burn stuff down?” Rush asked with a sly smirk.
Delvin shrugged. “I like fires. Fires are pretty and warm, just the way I like my women.”
“They also burn you,” Amund pointed out, “which is also just like your women.”
“As intellectually stimulating as this conversation is, I personally don’t want to spend all night in the castle muck talking about Delvin’s love life,” I said while glancing up to make sure we had not been spotted by any English soldiers. “Now, listen up.”
My men moved in so our heads were close together as we huddled around each other.
“Delvin, do you have your flint and steel?” I asked him.
“Always,” he answered with the kind of grin that concerned me every time I saw it. Brant thought the man had an unhealthy fascination with flames, and while this was probably true, every clan needed a match man.