gritted his teeth but nodded his acceptance and turned back to Angdred.
‘He has gone into the forest, I am sure of it. Scour the woods with Ulrik’s men, but I shall ride east in case he has gone that way to Lundene. Meet me there when the deed is done.’
‘The deed?’ enquired Angdred.
Malgard just stared at him, his eyes black, and Angdred cowered as though he had been struck.
‘Brand is not to reach Lundene,’ growled Malgard. ‘If he does, then your own life is forfeit … need I make myself any clearer?’
∞ ∞ ∞
My first problem was food. I’d hardly eaten at the wedding feast, and what little I had was lost when I’d vomited the ale.
My second problem was that I had no idea in which direction Lundene lay. Judging by the sun, I must have travelled north, but I hadn’t gone far because of my third problem.
The dog.
Having wrapped the rag about my waist and groin, I pulled the remains of Gram’s cloak around my shoulders and tied it in place with my father’s belt. Then, thanking God it was summer, I set off through the wood away from Stybbor. My intention was simply to abandon the dog, but when I reached the edge of the hollow, the dog started growling. And as I stepped into the forest he barked until I ran back in panic to make him quiet.
The dog lay on the ground, his tail wagging happily as I stood over him, trying to soothe him into silence with soft words, but as soon as I tried to leave he started barking, and again I had to race back to make him still. I was not that far from Stybbor and, if the Danes were patrolling, they may already have heard the dog and even now be rushing to investigate.
I considered the knife, and even pulled it part way out of the sheath …
My fourth problem was that I could not kill the dog. Accordingly, I had to take him with me, which meant carrying him. He wasn’t overly large, but he was cumbersome and heavier than he looked. I made slow progress – hauling him through the undergrowth, tripping on tree roots as he alternated between angry growls and licking my face.
It did occur to me to kill and eat the dog – it was at least a justification for carrying him when I had such pressing problems – but another part of me knew that I could never do that. I was simply carrying the dog far enough to abandon him in a place where the Danes wouldn’t hear his protest.
The sun climbed higher and my labour became intense. Sweat was pouring down my face and re-drenching the cloak, and the hunger in my gut became a torment. It was time to turn west, I decided. There were villages to the west of Stybbor where, no doubt, I could get food and directions. But despite my perils and hardships and recurrent stabs of grief, the thought that most absorbed me was the girl. Who was she, and why had I never seen her before? She must have been local because she spoke my tongue with little or no accent. At the summer fairs I had met folk who lived only valleys away who were all but foreigners in their speech, and even my mother’s people required patience to understand.
I slipped on a patch of moss and the dog yelped as I almost dropped him.
‘Be careful with him!’
Once again the girl had appeared out of nowhere, like a sorceress, and I felt a cool thrill of danger. But I took the opportunity to lower the dog to the ground and stretched my aching back.
The girl ran a few paces back in the direction I had come and peered into the forest. For the first time I noticed she had a small quiver of arrows on her back and gripped a bow small enough to be a child’s toy. And yet, such was her air of assured competence, I doubted not she could use the bow to lethal effect.
‘Who are—’ I began, but without glancing back, she raised a hand to silence me. She seemed to be listening, then abruptly she turned and paced towards me.
‘They are coming,’ she said.
‘Danes?’
‘Men,’ she shrugged. ‘What difference does it make where they come from?’
She seemed to cast around in all directions, as though looking for something, and finally decided on the east.
‘This way, quickly! Bring the dog.’
Once again I took up my burden, which seemed even heavier than before, and followed the girl into dark green, trackless bracken under tall elms, ash and larch. Perhaps a hundred paces off the path she told me to wait with the dog within a thicket.
‘Where are you—’
‘Quiet!’ she hissed, ‘ … if you wish to live.’
With that she was gone, vanishing swiftly into the trees and I settled onto a comfortable root, watching back towards the path. It was a beautiful day around the end of July – warm – the air filled with birdsong and the scent of wild herbs. My stomach was growling and bubbling with need and the dog also alternated between soft growls and whimpers of pain. All around me was growing what looked like a form of wild parsley, so I plucked it and found it pleasant enough of taste. The dog whimpered anew, watching my hand go to my mouth and wagging his tail, but when I held out the parsley he didn’t even sniff at it – just continued to whine. I ate a few hands full, but it didn’t make a dent on my hunger.
I realised the forest had gone silent. The whips and twills of birdsong had stilled and a brooding sense of anticipation seemed to descend. I peered intently back towards the path and then heard the sound that has terrified fugitives forever.
Dogs.
Or at least, a dog. The noise was still some distance away, but it was the unmistakeable excited yapping of a hound intent on a trail and struggling to be let off the leash. Why were they hunting me, I wondered, and immediately knew the answer. Vikings couldn’t have cared less about one boy who’d escaped the carnage – this was Malgard’s doing. He’d realised my corpse was not lying with the rest of the family and so he was hunting me – to finish what he had begun. And in that moment I all but despaired. How could I escape Malgard and Angdred, allied with Danes. My life surely was over and tears dripped anew as the hideous scene of slaughter returned to me once again, but now my imagination placed my own rent and twisted body beside my father and brother.
Voices.
I could hear Danes laughing and calling in their weird, oafish tongue as the yapping took on a new excited frenzy. I couldn’t see them but I could picture the men encouraging the dog as it raced back and forth across our spoor – probably in the place I had dropped the dog to the ground when the girl reappeared. It would not be long before they started pushing off the path towards me and I prepared to flee.
At that moment there was a loud howl of bestial pain, and then silence – followed by angry shouting and I saw men charging into the forest in the opposite direction to where I lay. The shouting subsided, and a minute later, the girl reappeared beside me.
‘This way, quickly … bring the dog.’
She took off to the east and I jumped up to follow, the whimpering dog once more in my arms and licking my face. The rest had done me good, and combined with my urgent need to escape, seemed to give me greater strength to bear him.
For some time we passed through forest, sparse with trees but thick with bracken and bramble
