Hereward Read Free Page B

like this.’

C HAPTER T HREE
    THE BLOOD-CHILLING SCREAM ripped through the night-shrouded forest, growing shriller and more intense with each passing moment until it no longer sounded human. For that, Harald Redteeth’s men gave thanks, for they could pretend it was some wild animal or fearsome monster hunting among the trees. But when it rolled on as though it would never end, they bowed their heads and clutched at their ears, unable to extinguish their visions of the suffering their comrade endured.
    Harald Redteeth listened impassively to the agonized sound. He was a mercenary who took the coin of any man, be he merchant, thegn or king, who wanted death dealt quickly and harshly, and his appearance underscored his fearsome reputation. From the eyeholes of his axe-dented helmet, his black, distended pupils reflected the dancing flames of Gedley. His wild hair and beard were stained red by the dyes his people made from the hedgerow berries, his coarse woollen cloak hanging over furs greased with lamb fat that kept out the cold. And underneath those he wore his battle-scarred mail, rusted and bloodstained, and a sweat-reeking tunic. The skulls of birds and woodland animals swung from the hauberk on leather strips. At his side hung his axe, Grim.
    ‘There is still time to save him,’ Ivar, his second in command, muttered.
    ‘He died long ago,’ Redteeth replied. ‘What you hear are the echoes as his spirit leaves his body.’
    Ivar wrapped his woollen cloak around him against the blizzard as he sifted through every brutal campaign and bloody raid he had experienced for something that sickened him more. ‘Why doesn’t the bastard just slit his throat and be done with it?’
    ‘He is trying to draw us out, into the forest, at night, where he has the advantage.’
    ‘And the monk?’
    ‘The tracks show he went with the stranger. If that is true, he could be dead by now, or he will be soon. We will search for his body at first light.’
    The scream continued to plumb the depths of agony. Listening intently, Harald Redteeth noted a melody that no others heard, the song of life that throbbed behind the surface of everything, with a heartbeat for a drum to keep the steady pace until the song came to its end. He began to whistle along. Ivar gave a troubled sideways glance, and took an unconscious step away.
    The monk was business, easily dealt with for the handful of coin, but the stranger was intriguing, Harald ruminated. Who was this warrior who fought with such brutality and passion? And why had he decided to involve himself in a matter that did not concern him?
    We are the law here , Redteeth said to himself. We decide who survives and who dies. The stranger will not leave Northumbria alive .
    Absently, he held out an open hand. Ivar delved into his pouch and handed over a small number of the dried toadstools. Carefully, Redteeth examined the scarlet caps dotted with white, and the large creamy gills.
    ‘It is the Blod-Monath,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘We have made our sacrifices as our forefathers did, but the Blood-Month demands more. This winter is earlier and harder than most, and now this stranger … I would know what it all means.’ He paused. ‘There is talk among the seers of an ending. Omens … portents …’
    ‘Is this the Fimbulwinter before the great battle that heralds Ragnarok and the end of everything?’ Ivar asked, unsettled.
    ‘Perhaps. Even the Christians see the omens too.’
    ‘They say a raven spoke to Earl Tostig, and he blanched and hid himself away in his hall, and refused to tell anyone what the bird said,’ Ivar remembered with a shudder.
    Redteeth popped one large and one small toadstool into his mouth. ‘We will make camp here where there will be warmth to see us through the night. Leave me now, for I journey far beyond Midgard to the shores of the great black sea. If I die before I return, you will take the lead.’
    Nodding, Ivar walked away, bellowing to the others to set up