Chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR

T he roar rising from the other side of the river caused Eyja’s insides to liquefy with fear. This was it. After all the wait and anticipation, the exhausting march, the last preparations at dawn, the moment to fight had finally come.

All the air left her lungs and she tightened her fist around the axe Moon had found for her. Despite the fearsome weapon, she felt woefully vulnerable. She did not imagine how she would be feeling right now if she’d only had her small dagger to hang on to. Thanks be to the gods for his foresight and generosity.

“Looks like we’ll have an easy time of it,” the man next to her observed under his breath. “I hadn’t dared hope for such favorable conditions.”

Even if she wasn’t convinced it would be that simple, Eyja knew what he meant. The king’s plan had worked, and the invaders army had clearly been taken by surprise by their swift arrival. As a result, they were scattered about, and would not be able to regroup in time to face their attackers as one. King Harold had been informed that morning that a good portion of the Norse army was stationed further away, too far to be of any use at the moment. Not only that, but due to the hot weather, they had not donned their chainmail. As the majority of the Saxons weren’t equipped either, it meant they were on a more equal footing.

Still, that did not, despite what the man thought, make it quite “easy” for them, and the unseasonably warm weather was not responsible for the sweat running down her back. The warriors facing them from across the water looked formidable, more than she had feared.

She stole a glance in Moon’s direction. Like everyone else, he was staring at the other side of the river, where an odd spectacle was playing out.

King Harold had gone to speak to his brother, Tostig, who had betrayed him and got in league with Hardrada. The confrontation between the two brothers would be tense, and Eyja wasn’t sure what could be accomplished. Was the king really hoping the invaders would turn around and leave just because he was asking?

Moon seemed to read her mind and leaned in to speak in her ear. “He will be offering his brother the chance to betray the Norse king, no doubt, and save his skin. In exchange for his allegiance and his men’s help in the fight, his life will be spared,” he said, nodding to the men on horseback in the middle of the clearing.

The way they interacted seemed to make sense to him. It didn’t to her. “Do you really think Tostig will agree to it?” Hope surged through her. Could they avoid a massacre?

“I don’t think so, not without strong guarantees, at least. Look at the way he sits on his horse.”

Indeed, the Saxon’s attitude was not promising. The discussion was not going well, and Hardrada, who presumably didn’t understand a word of it, was starting to get impatient. He didn’t seem open to any negotiations and was itching to get this over with. He shouted something at the two brothers, his voice carrying through the air with the sureness of an arrow, but he was too far away for Eyja to understand what he had said.

A moment later King Harold rode back toward his army, looking grim, and Tostig joined Hardrada’s side. There was only one conclusion to be drawn from this.

The parley had failed. Now battle was inevitable.

Eyja swallowed as battle cries started to erupt around them. The slim hope she had held on to against all reason was shattered. Was she the only one to deplore the failure of the negotiations? Apparently so. The men seemed raring to go.

“Moon, I’m… scared.”

It was not easy to utter the words. Never before had she admitted to such a thing. Growing up in a group of boys, it had been essential never to betray any weakness and keep her doubts to herself, or they would never have allowed her to stay with them. But if ever an occasion warranted honesty, this was it.

Moon grunted, as if she’d said nothing out of the ordinary. “Of course, you are, anyone in their right mind would be scared right now.”

The sheer bluntness of the statement was comforting. He was not trying to hide his feelings, or posing as a seasoned warrior immune to fear and doubt, he was not impressing over her, a mere woman, the fact that men did not tremble before battle.

“Stay next to me while we fight,” he instructed, his gaze never leaving the sea of heads on the other side of the river.

She didn’t answer. What would be the point of promising such a thing when they both knew it would be impossible for them to remain side by side in the thick of the battle? They would have a hard enough time trying to stay alive.

Finally, he glanced at her. In the morning sunshine his eyes were piercing blue, his hair shiny as gold. He looked both familiar and out of place. Around them the other men had brown hair as short as she had, and no beards.

A terrifying though tore through her.

Would he not be mistaken for one of the enemies when the fighting started and men started to mingle? No one looked more like a Norseman than Moon. Some of the Saxons were aware of him, and knew he was on their side, but not everyone in the vast army did. In the heat of the battle, he might well become a target for their blows. On the other hand, and for the same reason, the men from Hardrada’s army might leave him alone when they mistook him for one of their own. Ironically, he might well find himself fending off his countrymen’s attacks rather than fighting the invaders he had come to meet.

She didn’t have the same issue. She was blonde, true, but so were some other Saxons, and she didn’t have a beard or long, braided hair that marked her out as Norse. She would not be mistaken for anything other than a puny Saxon who should have stayed at home.

“You look like?—”

“I know.” From the way he interrupted her, Eyja understood he had reached the same conclusion as she had. “It doesn’t matter.”

“No.” She didn’t know what else to answer. Her mind had gone blank, her body liquid with fear. How on earth was she going to survive this? Her legs were barely able to support her. As soon as they started to run she might well trip and be trampled by the charging Saxons, long before she had time to raise her axe. What a waste that would be.

“It’s not too late to run, you know.” Moon glanced behind them, to the clump of bushes beckoning a short distance away. “While everyone’s attention is on the fight ahead, you could reach the?—”

“No.” It was not an option. “I’m not leaving. I’m not leaving you.”

“Imp—”

“Please, Moon.”

Though he had called her this all her life, right now hearing the word wanted to make her cry. She could not bear it, not when it was costing her all her willpower not to crumple.

Around them things had descended into utter chaos. The order to attack had been given and the army was trying to breach the bridge, which was the only way to get the other side of the river Derwent and Hardrada’s army waiting for them. Incredibly, though, it was defended by a single man, a giant wielding a two-handed battle axe with tremendous skill. One by one Saxons charged at him, and one by one they fell at his feet, sliced in half.

Eyja was both horrified and fascinated. The man’s strength and determination seemed inhuman. This was a Berserker for certain. Up until that moment she had not quite believed her father’s stories. It seemed impossible that a man could possess such power. Evidently it was not, she was seeing the proof of it with her own eyes. Were all Hardrada’s men like this? If they were, the Saxons didn’t stand a chance.

She didn’t stand a chance.

“This is ludicrous! How many more men are we going to sacrifice like this?” Moon seethed. “The more we wait here, the more time the invaders have to organize themselves. I’ve already seen riders leave the group on Hardrada’s orders. No doubt they have gone to get reinforcements. We need to attack now, before they arrive, or we will lose the advantage we gained by taking them by surprise.”

He shifted on his feet, like a bull ready to charge at its target. Terror spiked through Eyja. Surely he wasn’t considering going to face the warrior himself?

“Don’t you dare go!” she barked. It seemed impossible that anyone should survive the confrontation with the man. Moon could not die before the battle had even started. If she saw him fall now, she would never have the strength to even attempt this.

“I’m not going. No one is going to get past the damn Beserker. He’s too far down in his trance. We’ll have to think of another way.”

“There is no other way, unless someone can fly and strike him from above. Or from... underneath.”

They looked at each other as she said that last word slowly, and she knew he was thinking the same thing as she was. When they were young, one of their favorite games was to try and skewer the apples from a big apple tree overhanging the river by the village. They would sit on a makeshift raft and let the current drag them underneath the laden branches, so they could try to catch a juicy fruit with a spear as they floated past it. It was hard going and they often ended up soaked but it had never failed to amuse them. And the satisfaction of actually piercing an apple as you went by was unlike anything else.

“If we can find something to act as a raft or boat, we would be able to strike him through the disjointed planks of wood,” Moon said. He had reached the same conclusion as her. “It’s ingenious and relatively safe. In this chaos, the man will not see you come, he’s too busy fighting. And even if he does, he won’t be able to reach you.”

She frowned at his choice of words. The man will not see you come. Was he suggesting...

“What do you mean, m-me?” she stammered.

“Yes, you. You’ll have to do it, Eyja,” he confirmed bluntly.

Her heart skipped a beat. “You’re not serious?”

“I am. You were always the best at the game, remember? And that way you will be away from the fight, at least for a moment, without losing your honor. You will have been the one who single-handedly allowed the army to finally march on and do what it is supposed to do. We cannot keep losing so many men pointlessly like this.”

As if to prove his point, at that moment, another warrior was felled, and ended up in the stream below.

She watched the corpse disappear under the surface and nodded slowly. This was the best solution for, suddenly, she could not stomach the idea of facing a swarm of snarling warriors, axe or no axe.

This was the only way she could help.

Moon saw the change in her expression and grunted. “Come. We’ll try to find someone with the king’s ear to suggest our idea before it’s too late.”

The bridge was in sight.

Eyja wiped the sweat from her brow while her insides dissolved in abject fear. In a moment she would have to stick her spear through a man. In other words, kill him. In cold blood. This was not an attacker running toward her in the heat of battle and she would not be raising her weapon in self-defense. She would have time to think and see it happening, she would very deliberately stick the spear she had been given into a man who didn’t even know she was about to strike.

The dark deed might well haunt her for years to come, but it was too late to retreat.

She had a mission to accomplish. An important, crucial one.

King Harold had given his agreement to the plan she and Moon had presented to him. The Norseman on the bridge had to be stopped. He could not be allowed to hold the army off any longer, at the risk of seeing men die needlessly and the Norse reinforcements finally appear. He had to be killed without delay.

An empty barrel of ale had been found for her to use as a raft. It seemed she had no other choice but to go along with Moon’s suggestion that she should be the one skewering their opponent, because very few of the warriors could have fit into the narrow vessel anyway. Even if she had not been volunteered, she might well have ended up in it through lack of other suitable candidates. It had been oddly satisfying to see that her being a woman—not that she would admit to it, of course—made her the best person for the crucial task. Sometimes, brute strength was simply not enough.

“You go with our prayers,” the king told her before going back to his observation point.

Her mission was very clear. She was to float to the bridge, use the rope and grappling hook she’d been handed to stop right under where the Norse giant was disposing of Saxon warriors as if they were mere bugs inconveniencing him, stick her long spear through the disjointed planks and stab the man from underneath. The plan was ingenious in its simplicity, and guaranteed to work. Even if she didn’t kill him outright or hurt him too seriously, the unexpected hit would be enough to allow the Saxon facing him to take advantage of the distraction to strike him down. Then, once he was dead, she was to try and reach the shore lower down the stream and join the battle as soon as possible.

Hopefully by then the army would have crossed the river and engaged in the fighting. Not that she wished it, of course, but this standoff was not working to their advantage.

“Stay out of the fight as long as you can,” Moon whispered in her ear as he handed her the spear and the improvised oar she was to use to steer herself back to the shore. “Pretend the current prevented you from reaching the banks until you were a few miles downstream. There will be no shame in it, you will have done your share anyway.”

Yes, it was the best solution. Except for one thing. She had to pierce a man first, and possibly kill him.

Well, what did she expect? This was war, and all in all, it was her best chance both at survival and at playing a significant role in the proceedings. In hand-to-hand combat she would be useless. Here was an unhoped for chance to do something useful.

“Ready?” Moon asked, before he and three other men lowered the barrel in which she sat into the water.

“Yes.” And, for no reason that she could explain, Eyja almost reached out to kiss him.

Fortunately for her dignity, there was no way Moon and his cousin could kiss each other like lovers in front of everyone, so she was able to resist the bewildering impulse. Since when did she feel like kissing her childhood friend on the lips? Since she was about to embark on a killing mission and he was going to face mortal danger, apparently. Yes. That had to account for it. Tonight one of them, or both, could be dead. In such circumstances, she might well have wanted to kiss anyone dear to her, just to make her feel better.

“Take care of yourself, Moon, please,” she murmured.

His eyes sent sparks. “You too, Imp. I’ll see you after the battle.”

The battle. How soon it might happen now all hinged on her.

The bridge was drawing near. It was now or never, soon she would be swept away by the current and it would be too late. There would be no second chance, she would never be able to paddle her way back upstream for another try.

With great care, Eyja swung the rope and threw her grappling hook. It caught on one of the wooden posts, slowing her down. So far so good. Using all her strength, she pulled to position herself where she needed to be, in the middle of the bridge, and straight underneath the Norse warrior. She could hear the grunts of the two fighters above her. Something fell on her forehead. When she realized it was blood, shock almost caused her to let go of the rope. No, she had managed to position herself, she could not let go now, she could not falter! For more safety, she wrapped the rope around her middle.

There.

Even if she let go in a moment of panic, she wouldn’t ruin her chances.

Holding on with her left hand, she took the spear in her right and thrust upward. Nothing. She lowered the weapon and did it again, harder, higher. This time it made contact. A scream split the air and a heartbeat later she heard a shout of triumph, followed by the sound of dozens of warriors running onto the bridge to finish off the formidable enemy. Moments later the corpse of the mighty warrior she had felled was thrown over into the river in front of her eyes. Though rationally she knew this time it was water, not blood, splashing her, Eyja could not help a scream of horror.

For a long moment she stayed there, trembling. Then slowly she reopened her eyes and breathed in deeply. Her part was over.

She let go of the rope and allowed the current to sweep her away.