It was nothing but a dirty ribbon,more tattered than the book itself.A cloud had passed before thesun, and not until it was gone did Cai make out the markings.He’dseen something like them on grave-marker stones in the older Saxonvillages.A series of straight lines burned into the leather—mostlyvertical, easy to carve into stones, broken by angles, horizontals.“This looks like lettering.”
“It is.Runic.My peopleuse a pure form, the Saxons a degraded one.”
“Oh, of course.”
“This is pure.”Fen took theribbon, passed it slowly through his fingers.“It’s old,though—older almost than I can translate, and the first few lettersare gone.Wait, though.I have it.The cord…” He turned the ribbon, held it to thelight.“Thecord that binds the wolf where fetters fail.”
His colour drained.Still clutchingthe ribbon, he sat down hard on the sand.
“Fen?What isit?”
“It is Gleipnir.In the legendsof the Dane Lands, the people you callvikingr… No.It can’t be.”
“Tell meanyway.”
“Invikingrlegend, there is a great wolf.I have toldyou of him.I was named after him—Fenrisulfr.This wolf becametroublesome, even to the gods—he was a god himself, you see—and sothey tried to defeat him.They tied him with huge iron chains.Butthe wolf broke through those as if they had been spiderwebs.”
Cai closed his hand on Fen’s fist.Itwas chilly as marble.“A strong wolf.”
“Yes, but a stupid one.The godscommanded the dwarves to create a new binding—thin as a ribbon ofsilk, but unbreakable.Now, this wolf being arrogant, he laughedwhen he saw it.And when the gods challenged him, he let himself bebound.”Fen’s voice softened and caught.“And he found out, as Ihave, that any strength may be conquered by the right chains.Theribbon was named Gleipnir.It passed into our legends as a symbol,a thing that could bind and defeat allvikingrpower.It’s what Sigurd was looking for,raiding so fiercely to find.I didn’t realise.This is the treasureof Fara.”
“This poor scrap ofleather?”
“Yes.You don’t understandwhat it means to us.More than gold, more than any plunder.”Fenshivered, as if a ghost had touched him, a spectre from a futureopening up to him for the first time.“If I have this… With this, Ican command the Torleik.They will see it as their strength beingreturned to them.When the other tribes know that we have it, theywill fear us.If I bear it home with me now, perhaps I can controlthem.Perhaps I can bring an end to the slaughter on theseshores.”
Cai didn’t let go of his hand.“Eldrais ready for you.Hengist has prepared some travelling clothes andpacked up supplies for your journey.”
Fen glanced up.His gaze returned fromwide inner vistas to the detail in front of him, and pain creasedhis brow.“I don’t have to go now.We said tomorrow, didn’twe?”
“Aye, but think what willhappen.I am very tired—I’ve sat down here for too long.Halfway upthe cliff, my strength will run out, and you will pick me up.Is itnot so?”
“Yes, ofcourse.”
“I will protest and tellyou I’m not a village maiden or a pig for you to run off with.Andyou will take no notice and carry me back to our shelter, and kickthe willow door into place so no one can see.By that time yourhold on me will have become more than I can bear.”
“Yes.”A terriblecomprehension dawned in Fen’s eyes.“And your weight in my arms,your warmth and your scent…”
“Yes.So you will lay medown, and even though I am half-dead from weariness, I will open mybody to you, my heart, any thing of me you want, and we willstruggle and fuck until sleep takes us.And wake in the knowledgethat you must go, and I must stay here, and comfort each other forthat until we are fucking again.Is it not so?”
Fen couldn’t speak, but his silencegave Cai the answer he needed.
“And so it will go on.Wewill tear each other apart.”
Fen lurched upright, a huge spring ofa movement that almost knocked Cai over on the sand.“I will go.Iwill send someone down to help you home.”
Gleipnir, that worn scrap of nothing,was fluttering from his hand.Cai caught the end of it.“Thiscord,” he whispered, not looking up.“This thing that has the powerto bind all Vikings… Won’t it bind just one?”
“Yes.Yes, if you choose touse it that way.”
Cai let go.He felt one last touch tohis shoulder—a kiss, warm as life, to the top of his bowed head.Then he was alone.
Chapter Eighteen
“The tail of thebgoes up, Godric, notdown.”
A bowingof the grizzled head.A frantic gnawing at the end of the quill,and another attempt.“There, priest.Better?”
“Much.But I should have reminded you, it’s also on the otherside.You’ve written me ad.”
