Hereward 04 - Wolves of New Rome Read Free Page B

words, but the blackness will gnaw away at him, and sooner or later he will take his own life. He needs hope.’
    ‘Every man here does.’ Hereward felt the weight of his burden. All of his spear-brothers had lost so much during the long war against the Normans. Exile had left them with nothing, and they looked to him, as their leader, to give them that hope once more. ‘All will be well when we reach Constantinople.’
    The monk nodded. ‘Aye. Gold and glory. That promise keeps them going. Without that—’
    ‘They will get their gold and glory. I will see to that,’ Hereward said curtly.
    As he pushed his way through the warriors towards Kraki, the Mercian knew that nothing less would do. He had to deliver them to Constantinople. Only then would they be able to put the past behind them. Only then could their lives begin anew.
    Though the Viking hid his own loss better than most, the Mercian knew it still consumed him. Kraki was a fighting man. He lived for battle. But then he lost his heart to a woman, and when he was forced to send her away to save her life the agony had cut deeper than any blade. Hereward weighed his choice, and realized it was the right one.
    ‘I need your aid,’ he said.
    ‘You always need my aid.’
    ‘Sighard must have a wise head to guide him. I cannot find one, so I have chosen you.’
    Kraki snorted. ‘Am I to wipe the snot from the noses of babes?’
    ‘He mourns his brother still. More … that loss is turning his heart black.’
    Kraki looked away, understanding.
    ‘He is a good man, you know that. And he has always given all for his brothers. But now he needs us,’ Hereward continued. ‘Watch over him. He is wounded, and this battlefield is no less dangerous than any other.’
    After a moment’s thought, the Viking grunted his assent. Though he scowled at the prospect, he seemed to be pleased to be given the task, the Mercian thought.
    On the horizon, lightning flickered. A low boom rumbled across the waves, and the wind picked up. As Hereward looked towards the approaching storm, he glimpsed tiny dots of colour in the distance. Sails.
    Kraki had seen them too. ‘Sea wolves?’
    ‘We should not tarry here,’ Hereward replied. ‘Push us free of this ship of ghosts, and let us be away before we join them.’

C HAPTER T WO
     
    THE SPITTING FIRE-POT trailed showers of sparks with each wild swing on its creaking chain. Shadows flickered across the rain-lashed faces of the men hunched over the oars. Like statues, they seemed, as they looked out across the heaving waves to the black horizon. The light of the pot’s flames carved deep furrows into their drawn features. All eyes watched the distant ship. The roiling clouds had near turned day to night and they would have missed it if not for the blaze of lightning sheeting across the horizon.
    ‘What do you say?’ Kraki bellowed.
    ‘A fisherman. Or a merchant. Lost in the storm.’ Hereward shielded his eyes against the elements and waited for the vessel to reappear on the roll of grey swell. He could sense all his men waiting for his judgement. He braced himself against the bucking deck, holding still with a warrior’s strength and grace. The rain pasted his long fair hair to his head and stung his eyes, but still he watched.
    The ship came and went, came and went. Scarlet sails billowed, but whoever manned that vessel was lost to the gloom.
    Kraki heaved himself to his feet. Dragging his axe from under his bench, he used its weight to balance himself. ‘Or a sea wolf, blown off course?’ he growled. The howling wind almost snatched the words from his lips.
    ‘Perhaps.’
    Hereward looked across the bowed heads of his men and saw many quaking with the terror of the waves. Who could blame them? The sea was a monster that could not be tamed, only respected. Few of these men were sailors, and they had learned their new skills the hard way, with stomachs filled with sea water.
    A figure clawed its way across the benches. As it