“Not this many of them.”Cai shook his head, grinning.“How you’ve changed, my friend!No.This time you run and hide—together, separately, whatever issafest.Take nothing but the book.Here—give me a legup.”
“You’re not well.Youshouldn’t be galloping about the countryside on yourown.”
“I know.I just have to trythis one thing.”
Once settled on his new mount’s broadback, Cai paused.This mare was bigger than Swift, but raw-bonedand awkward.And Cai hadn’t chosen the best name for her either.“Clover the warhorse,” he said doubtfully.Well, he had riddenBroc’s ponies into skirmishes for cattle and land since he was bigenough to lift a sword.He shook her reins and set her to alumbering canter.Gareth held out a hand, and Cai squeezed it inpassing.“Don’t worry!”he called back over his shoulder.“Fen ison his way.Watch the fields, and if the battle turns against us,run!”
He drove the mare hard throughthe open gates of Fara and down past the village.The villagers—hisfriends now, Barda and Friswide and even Godric, Wynn the smith anda small mob of children—came tumbling out of their barns and hutsto call to him, “Vikingr, vikingr!”
Cai didn’t slow down.He waved atthem, slewing the horse around them.Soon the fields gave way tothe vast coastal plain he had seen from the cliffs above Fara,where the raiding army and Broc’s were closing upon one anotherfast.Taking one deep breath and then another, Cai aimed for thecentre—the narrowing patch of land between them—and rodeon.
Chapter Twenty
A strange, wild faith was kindlinginside Cai at last.It was nothing like Leof’s, nothing even Theocould have taught him.Its fires had first touched him during thestorm, when he had been shipwrecked and Fen had pulled him from thewaves.He had been nothing but a heartbeat in a skeleton, nothingbut breathing flesh, and so it was now.His purpose was only tomeet the next rush of sunlit wind against his face, and the next,as the horse bore him onwards.
Fen was near.Cai knew it, ascertainly as if he were back in the sea with that strong armreaching down for him.Perhaps he was already at Fara, dishing outorders and chivvying the brethren into action.The very air wassweeter in Cai’s lungs for his closeness.The perfection of themoment wrapped him round.
He could hear voices now.He couldmake out separate figures through the glimmering light.At the headof the Viking force, a vast charioteer was tearing across theplain.His hair flew out behind him, thick as a sheepskin.When heraised his arm and roared, a noisy chorus roared back athim.
Sigurd!Sigurd!Sigurd!
Sigurd, Fen’s warlord.The leader ofthe Torleik clan, deposed by Fen’s brother and cast out.How hadGunnar ever managed to defeat such a bear of a man?Well, he hadrisen from his ashes.His warriors were yelling his name like abattle cry, like the song of a war god.His two-horse chariot wasflying full pelt towards Broc’s front line, so fast that he wasopening a gap between himself and his own men.
Only one horseman was able to keep upwith him.The beautiful horse he was riding kept perfect pace withthe chariot.The contrast between him and Sigurd could not havebeen greater—the one a solid wall of muscle, flesh and fur, theother a lean, graceful shape whose flag of copper hair seemed totake light from the sun.
Cai saw and understood.The burgeoningfaith in his heart snapped out, a candle snuffed in brutal fingers.Clover sensed the change in him and lost momentum, and he let herfalter to a halt right in the middle of the plain.
“Caius!Damn you, boy—getthe hell out of my way.”
Cai didn’t move.He couldn’t turn hishead—not even for his father.He had let Fen go.The sorrow of thathad eaten him alive.But nothing in his loneliness had taught himwhat it would be to see him return as his enemy.Despair seizedhim, colder than death.
And Fen had seen him too.He peeledaway from Sigurd’s side, his magnificent russet-red cloak floatingout behind him.Briefly the sight of him wiped Cai’s mind clean ofanything but his beauty.Cai had fallen in love with a Viking, awarrior.The warrior had taken on a cassock and gone about hisduties at Fara as a monk, but he was a Viking still, and now forthe first time Cai saw him restored.His throat went dry as dust.Fen was heading straight for him.So be it.Cai wouldn’t so much asdraw his sword.Even now, a voice of unbreakable trust told him Fenwould strike neatly, end his life fast and cleanly.
“Gleipnir!Bring backGleipnir!”
That wasn’t Broc’s voice or Fen’s.Itwasn’t in Cai’s own tongue, but the words of the Dane Lands werepart of his heart’s language now.Sigurd’s troops were slowing up,all of them gazing after Fen.And Fen was holding at arm’s length athin banner, a streamer flying behind him on the wind.
“Fenrisulfr!”Sigurd washauling his chariot to a stop.His mouth was open, his face a blankof outrage and dismay.“Fenrir, you devil—bring Gleipnirback.”
“No!”Fen rode Eldra full tilt toCai’s side.He didn’t stop there, but reined her in hard so thatshe made a circle round him, one then another, as if seeking toshield him not only from Sigurd but from someone behind him.Atlast Cai broke his paralysis and saw Broccus pounding down on him,howling with rage at the sight of his son in league with an enemysoldier.“No!”Fen yelled again, brandishing the ribbon.“Hætta!All of you stop!”And then, in full view of his warlord andhis Viking comrades, he held out the ribbon to Cai.
“Take it,” he said quietly.“Take it now, beloved.Can you translate to the Celts forme?”
If I can speak at all.Cai took thefluttering strip of leather in a numbed-out grasp.“I willtry.”
“Hold that up.Let them seeI’ve given Gleipnir to you.Sigurd!”
A roar like an avalanche came back.Cai could barely pick out words from it, but Sigurd’s livid facegave him the gist.Still, not one of the Viking men moved.Caididn’t understand.He and Fen were an easy target out here.IfSigurd wanted Gleipnir, he could come and get it, unless… He liftedthe ribbon as Fen had told him.He gestured with it, letting thewind make it fly.
The Viking men fell back.
“Fen.What’s goingon?”
“Tell the others what Isay.Sigurd, stop this fight!There won’t be a battle heretoday.”
Strong, simple words.Lost indisbelief, Cai turned to his father and the mismatched group ofchieftains and farmers hauling up to a disorganised halt all aroundhim.He could translate easily.“Stop,” he cried, the beginnings ofa grin tugging at his mouth.“Stop the battle.Nobody fightstoday.”
“Sigurd, I couldn’t stopyou from coming here.But no Torleik warrior will lay hands on theman who saved my life.Who became to me more than a brother.Norwill they harm his tribe, or his…” Fen looked quickly from Broc toCai, making the connection, “…or his family.”
