Raven Read Free Page A

Sigurd grimaced when the old godi dropped it over the side as an offering to Njörd. But even Sigurd knew it was wise to give the gods something precious and he took a handful of silver coins from his own scrip and scattered them into the billowing black water so that Rán, Mother of the Waves, might be placated and not seek to drown us all for the glittering things in our sea chests.
    Then it seemed we hit an invisible wall, for Serpent lurched and skewed, her sail caught in a cross wind, so that the sheet was ripped from Ulf and Arnvid’s hands and the bottom of the sail flapped savagely and it seemed that the whole sail would collapse around the mast. But Olaf and Bothvar and some others were able to grip its thick edge, using themselves as weights to anchor it until sheet and block could be married again. Rain lashed into my face, which was a bad sign seeing as I was looking at the shore and that meant the wind had changed and was now against us.
    ‘Christ on His cross, this isn’t looking good!’ Ulfbert said, wincing from the stinging deluge, looking at the shrouds, which were creaking under the strain of holding the mast steady. Serpent had been built to ride the punch of the sea rather than fight back against it, and she was as brave and worthy a craftas was ever hewn, but even she seemed to shudder as the waves slammed into her and the current swirled below her and the wind determined to screw into her sail and twist her mast from its keelson. ‘Where did this bastard come from?’ Ulfbert asked, his eyes alert with fear. His friend Gytha was bailing with Father Egfrith, but it seemed to me that they were losing, as more sheets of water slapped on to the deck.
    ‘We’ll get to shore before it can sink us,’ I said, though I had no such confidence. I could not even see the shore now because it had vanished behind a grey shroud and the rain was hammering into my eyes. Ulfbert kissed the wooden cross that he wore under his tunic and I didn’t mind seeing him do it, because I thought it could not hurt to have his god on our side in case mine were ale-addled and feasting in Asgard, unable to hear our petitions and the plaintive creaks of Serpent ’s timbers. He stumbled over to join me, gripping the sheer strake, then offered the cross to me on its leather thong, a grim smile touching his lips.
    ‘One kiss won’t hurt a brave young heathen like you,’ he suggested, water sliding down the thick twists of his sodden hair.
    ‘Get that thing out of my face before I throw it overboard and you with it,’ I said, and Ulfbert grinned, tucking the cross back into his tunic, and I thought it said much about Sigurd that he had taken this handful of Christians into his Fellowship. They were good men, despite their love for the nailed god, and I was glad we had not killed them.
    ‘Hey! To your oars!’ Sigurd bellowed against the wind’s roar, the waves’ crash and the sail’s snap. ‘ Serpent has asked for our help and we owe her, so get to your benches and work! Three reefs, Uncle!’
    The yard slid down the mast bit by bit, as smoothly as Olaf and his men could manage, and others reefed the sail as it came, and all of us kept our feet as best we could now that Serpent belonged to the storm. But it felt good to get my oar into thatblack sea. What was a slender spruce oar against that enormous fury? And yet with those blades in the water we were stating our challenge, bellowing our refusal to yield, and that is what the gods love: when mortal men bloom with the arrogance of believing themselves a match for giants.
    ‘Row!’ Sigurd yelled, his drenched golden hair swept back from his scarred forehead. ‘Row, you wolves!’ He was standing on the raised fighting platform at Serpent ’s stern, facing the fury of the driving rain and the waves that kept thumping into my back as I bent to the oar. The jarl could do nothing for his other ships now; they were on their own – but he could help Serpent and sohe stood