Land of Blood and Water Read online

  ‘You as well,’ said the man to Brand. ‘And your sons.’

  ‘So we are to watch now, are we?’ Brand said. ‘So much for your chief’s promises.’

  The man shrugged and pulled Osgar to his feet. He went across to Ulf who brushed aside his offer of help and struggled to his feet unaided, despite his bonds. Brand did the same and led his family out of the hut.

  The sun was almost at noon now and the waters all around were bright with its rays. The water-meadows to the south were crowded with birds: starlings, gulls and mallards and a score of geese.

  Brand searched for his sheep. Most were still on the nearby slopes but a few had clambered up the higher ground in search of dryer grass. They looked like flecks of snow upon a field. Goliath, the big ram, was near the top of the slope, tearing at the juiciest grass and keeping a close watch on his females.

  Brand peered more closely at Burrow Mump, a mile to the east, a round hill which thrust up from the level land surrounding it. Three armed men stood on the summit, staring towards the north. Presumably they were members of Cenred’s war-band placed there to keep watch on the approaches to the island. He was making sure they would not be taken by surprise.

  Even as Brand thought this, Cenred approached and stood facing him with his hands on his hips.

  ‘You want me to watch now, do you?’ Brand said. He wanted to spit at the man’s feet but restrained himself for fear it would make him do worse to Hild and Inga.

  Cenred shook his head. ‘There’ll be no more rape. My men have lost their stomach for it.’ He stepped closer to Brand and stared into his eyes. ‘And I have no quarrel with you. If you promise to act quietly I’ll cut your bonds.’

  ‘Don’t you fear that I have quarrel with you?’

  Cenred looked him in the eye. ‘A few men I fear,’ he answered. ‘But you are not one of them.’

  Brand did not answer but instead turned his back and held out his hands. Cenred took a dagger from his belt and cut the cords. Brand rubbed his wrists to bring back the circulation then watched as Cenred released Ulf. Brand stared at his son, warning him against doing anything stupid. He knew that their lives remained in danger and that Cenred might be their only protection.

  ‘Food’s over there,’ the big man said. ‘Don’t bother to thank me for it. Most of it belongs to you.’

  Brand told Ulf to stay with his mother and sister while he took Osgar to collect food. The warriors eyed him curiously, almost as if they were seeing him for the first time. Brand’s mind whirled wildly at this, astonished that they looked so mild now, only hours after their attack upon the women. A few even smiled and nodded at him.

  ‘What will they do with us?’ Hild asked when he returned with the food.

  ‘I don’t know. We must stay wary but I think we have less to fear.’

  ‘Will they rape me again?’ Inga asked, her eyes filling with tears. ‘I couldn’t bear it.’

  ‘Hush,’ Brand said. ‘You’re quite safe now.’

  But even as he said it he doubted his own words. Cenred might be able to control the men for a while but he had signally failed to do so in the night. Their safety and their lives hung by a thread.

  THE BEATING

  They ate the little food that Cenred had allowed them. It was their food but he was doling it out as though he were a priest giving charity.

  Hild held Inga in her arms. She stroked her hair gently, murmuring soft words of comfort to her. Little comfort, she thought. I can give her little comfort after what’s happened to her.

  She moved her position slightly to pull her daughter closer to her. This is not how a girl should have her first experience of a man. She should have fallen in love with a local boy, a clumsy oaf who had mooned after her like a calf for months. They would have explored each other together, body and mind, finding things out, nervous and timid. It should not have been like this. Not with men so much older than her, desperate men, filthy men. Men who did not care for her at all, only for their own base needs.

  ‘I hurt, mama,’ Inga whimpered.

  ‘I know, darling. But it will ease soon enough. Don’t think about it.’

  That pain will ease but what about the deeper hurt?

  She sensed Brand moving beside her. He would want to touch Inga, to stroke her arm, to make her feel safe and sound. But his hands had been tied fast once more.

  Cenred may not have feared to untie his bonds but not so Dudda, the man who raped Inga. He had grown alarmed at Brand watching him and brought some friends over to bind his wrists. Hild had been surprised at how meekly Brand had held out his hands before him, clenched together almost as if in prayer. The men had been surprised as well and swiftly took advantage to wind the leash around his wrists.

  Hild reached out and touched him on the arm. He nodded once but did not speak.

  She bit her lip anxiously. Brand was a kindly man but he had a temper like a wild boar when he was roused. Her mind went back to their youth. He had gone berserk the day he found his father had been murdered. And even though he was only fifteen he sought his father’s killer and challenged him to a fight. The man was in his forties, a seasoned warrior.

  Brand’s friends had tried to persuade him to let the matter lie. But he would not listen. They fought that very day. At first the man had played with Brand, easily turning his clumsy attacks, taunting him, sneering. But then Brand went mad with rage. It was as if the old Gods had seized his mind and soul, had given ferocious strength to his body. He leapt at the warrior, hacked viciously at his neck and slew him. He would have torn the corpse to pieces if the elders had not pulled him off.

  And that was why they were here. In this misty, desolate, water-drenched land instead of in their own village on the coast.

  The villagers had been stunned at the way in which Brand had killed the older man. Stunned by Brand’s violence and his deadly skill. The elders thought it best to get him as far away as possible in case of blood-feud.

  Hild had gone with him for she and Brand were love-sick youngsters. No wedding feast for them, merely flight to a place they did not know. They had been sent across country to the marsh-lands, to where the headman of the village had some barren acres untended. It had given them a start in life. She had fallen pregnant and a kindly priest had wed them.

  For years afterwards Hild feared that the family of the man Brand had slain might come in search of them. Not that they had cause. The man had murdered Brand’s father and Brand had killed him in turn. The matter was settled, the wergild paid. But Hild knew that some men did not wish to abide by these customs. Only in the last half dozen years had the fear of retribution eased.

  And now this, she thought. A war-band of Viking heathens.

  Brand groaned quietly and Hild turned towards him, her face anxious. If the madness seized him there was no telling what he might do. He would want to avenge her, want to avenge Inga.

  ‘I am not hurt, Brand,’ she said. ‘I felt nothing as they did it, felt no horror.’

  It was a lie of course, but she had to say it to try to calm his fury.

  ‘What did you feel?’ he asked. His voice was tainted with suspicion.

  ‘I missed you. I cursed the fate that had done this to us. And I missed you.’ She fell silent for a moment. ‘But I will miss you even more if you do anything rash. These men are monstrous. They will not stop at killing only you if you give them cause.’

  ‘But they have given me cause.’ His voice was dull and heavy.

  ‘Even more reason they would slay you,’ she said. ‘Trust me, some of them will begin to feel ashamed of themselves. And what better way for them to ease their shame than to strike at the person they’ve already harmed? They would feel cleansed; they would feel justified in all that they had done. So, please, Brand, do not seek revenge for what they did.’

  There was no answer for a few heartbeats.

  ‘Please father,’ Inga whispered.

  Brand grunted in agreement.

  Hild closed her eyes
in relief. Pray God that he keeps to this, she thought.

  She opened her eyes again in sudden fear, turned to where her sons where sitting. Osgar was snuffling, exhausted at being awake half the night. But Ulf was wide awake and watching the men as they moved about the field.

  And now she began to fear what Ulf might do. There was much of his father in him, a strong will and a sense of justice. She hoped that he would prove wiser than her husband. That he might not be prey to deadly rage and the burning desire for vengeance.

  An hour later Hild felt a chill of unease come over he. She looked up and saw Dudda and another man watching them from a little distance away. Dudda whispered something in the other man’s ear and he nodded and began to grin. Hild tensed, wondering what they were saying, what they were planning.

  They walked towards them, stopping a couple of feet in front of them. Hild’s eyes slid round to peer at Brand. He was sitting with his head bowed to the ground but she knew that he had seen the two men approach.

  ‘The girl is a pretty little thing,’ Dudda said. ‘Smells sweet as well, like new-cut grass.’ He made a cupping gesture with his hands. ‘Tits the size of little apples but soft as butter.’

  ‘And only you got to taste them,’ the second man said. ‘It was a pity that Cenred stopped the fun when he did.’

  ‘I understand how you feel, Acci,’ Dudda said. ‘You were the next in line.’ He bent close towards Inga. ‘Acci will be your next lover, child,’ he said. ‘He’ll have you tonight.’

  Inga shrank against her mother and began to whimper.

  ‘She’s moaning in anticipation,’ Dudda said with a grin.

  ‘Don’t say that,’ cried Ulf.

  Dudda’s hand went to his knife.

  ‘Be quiet, Ulf,’ Hild said. ‘Say nothing.’

  ‘Very sensible,’ Dudda said. ‘You’re a wise woman.’

  Acci squatted down and ran a finger across Inga’s cheek. ‘She’s pretty enough,’ he said. ‘But tell me, Dudda, how much pleasure did she give you?’

  ‘Tight as tight can be and loving every moment of it.’

  Brand leapt. The move was so sudden that Dudda had no time to side-step and Brand knocked him to the ground, scrambling up in a moment and throwing himself upon the prostrate man.

  ‘No,’ Hild cried.

  But it was too late. Brand’s pent-up fury erupted. His raised his bound hands and beat down, swift as a falcon, smashing into Dudda’s face again and again. In moments it became a blood-drenched, broken mess.

  Acci jumped on Brand’s back, his arm around his throat, trying to drag him off. But Brand’s rage was too great. He elbowed Acci in the side and smashed his head into his face, knocking him sprawling on the ground. He turned once more to Dudda, his fists flailing, now red with his own blood as well as with Dudda’s gore.

  ‘You should have tied my hands behind my back,’ he cried. ‘But you were too stupid.’

  ‘Leave him, Brand,’ cried Hild, ‘you’ll kill him and then what will happen to us.’

  Ulf was by his father’s side, trying to grab at his pummelling arms, trying to stop him from inflicting more damage to the prostrate warrior. It was no good. Brand had been seized by a madness, a red rage which Ulf was powerless to stop.

  Not so the other warriors.

  Four men saw what was happening and raced up the hill. They knocked Ulf out of the way and dragged Brand off Dudda. He turned on them with renewed fury and went for the throat of one of them. But four men proved too many and now Acci staggered to his feet and joined in.

  Two of the men held Brand fast, pinning his hands to his sides. A big man punched Brand in the stomach which winded him and left him weakened. He kicked out at the man, knocking him howling to his knees.

  Acci smashed his fist into Brand’s face, a big heavy ring on his hand gouging flesh from his cheek. The man who Brand had kicked joined in and together they went to work, like two men cutting a tree together, intent on felling Brand as swiftly as possible.

  Ulf saw they would not stop until they had crippled his father. He turned his back on what was happening and ran down the hill towards the horses.

  ‘Cenred,’ he yelled, ‘Cenred, they’re going to kill my father.’

  Cenred looked up the hill and drew his sword, racing up towards the fighting. Other warriors flew after him, Ulf close on their heels.

  ‘Enough,’ Cenred cried, ‘enough.’ He beat the men who were attacking Brand with the flat of his sword. They drew back, eyes smouldering.

  ‘Do you want to kill him?’ Cenred demanded.

  ‘He attacked Dudda,’ said one of the men. ‘And then he went for Acci.’

  ‘Of course he did,’ cried Hild. ‘They were threatening my daughter. He was only protecting her as any father would.’

  Brand sank to the ground, groaning.

  ‘Enough of this,’ Cenred said. ‘I’ll have no more violence.’

  He looked down at Dudda. ‘A fine thing for a warrior like you to be bested by a peasant,’ he sneered.

  ‘He’s no peasant,’ said Acci. ‘He’s a berserker. The sooner he’s dead the better.’

  ‘That is not for you to pronounce,’ Cenred said. ‘Not for any of us.’

  He turned towards Hild. ‘See to your man. And make sure he does nothing foolish again. I cannot promise to protect him if he does.’

  WARRIORS

  Ulf watched as Hild bathed Brand’s face. She was as gentle as she could be but Brand winced at the pain and then cursed himself for doing so.

  ‘Don’t fret woman,’ he said. ‘It looks worse than it feels.’

  ‘I’m glad of it,’ Hild answered. ‘If it hurts as bad as it looks then you’d be in a sorry state. As it is you’ll give us all nightmares.’

  Brand felt his face. One eye had closed completely and the other was fast going that way. He moved his nose gingerly and it gave a little too readily.

  ‘It’s broken,’ he said.

  ‘Don’t fiddle man,’ Hild said. ‘The longer you leave things be, the swifter they’ll mend.’

  She stared him in the face. ‘I begged you not to do anything. Those men might have killed you.’

  ‘It would take more than them to do that.’

  ‘God save us from your pride,’ she said. The tears began to well in her eyes and she gripped him by the shoulder. ‘These men are perilous. Isn’t it enough that they raped Inga and me? Do you want them to kill you and the boys as well?’

  Brand did not answer. But his silence was sufficient for Hild and she began to bathe his face once more.

  Ulf sighed. It was terrible that they were powerless against these men, he thought. He gnawed on his lip, countless plans running through his brain.

  His mother shot a glance in his direction as if to warn him not to be as foolish as his father.

  He turned away. There has to be something we can do.

  At that moment there came the sound of horses in the distance. Ulf got to his feet and turned towards the noise. Brand tried to rise but Hild pushed him back on the ground, making hushing noises as if he were a child.

  ‘Stay still,’ Ulf cried, and wondered at the power and authority that had entered his voice.

  He took a few steps towards the crest of the hill and saw that Cenred and his men had gone for their weapons and were staring towards the west, searching for the source of the noise. Four of the men raced for the horses and began to tighten their girths ready for a swift retreat. Cenred saw all this in an instant and then turned towards the Mump where he had placed his look-outs. The men on the summit were on their feet, looking to the west, shading their eyes against the sun. Suddenly they lifted their spears to a horizontal position and raised and lowered them three times.

  ‘It looks like our people,’ Cenred called. ‘But keep your weapons handy in case it’s a ruse.’

  Ulf saw his chance. He slipped to his father’s side and whispered urgently to him.

  Brand nodded, gestured to Hild and began to shepherd his fa
mily behind the hut. If they were quick they might escape while the war-band’s attention was focused on the approaching horsemen. They slipped across the high part of the island unseen and hurried down the wet slopes towards the river and Brand’s boat.

  Brand was in a great deal of pain but he brushed this aside. They had to move fast or they would lose the chance.

  But as they got close to the river they saw two armed men beside the boat. The men climbed to their feet and watched them for a moment before gesturing them to return. Cenred had blocked off all means of escape.

  Brand cursed and led his family back towards their hut.

  ‘It was a good idea, son,’ he said to Ulf. ‘It almost worked.’

  ‘There’ll be another chance later,’ Ulf said.

  They might have to wait until dark before they made another move, he thought. But he knew the marsh-lands like he knew the promptings of his heart, better than even his father did. He was confident that he could pick a way to safety and elude any pursuit.

  Unless the newcomers proved even more vicious than Cenred and his men.

  The war-band were standing quietly now on the northern ridge of the hill. They looked towards the west but considering that the newcomers seemed to be their friends they seemed strangely sombre.

  The neighing of the horses was louder now and Ulf could hear the sound of their hooves pounding along the timber path which led from Lyng.

  And then they appeared. Twenty men, fully armed on powerful steeds. Two men rode at the front, one in a scarlet cloak of finest weave, the other in a tattered grey cloak spattered with mud. The horsemen careered to a halt and the two leaders slid from their horses and looked around.

  The eyes of the man in the filthy cloak darted everywhere: taking in the island, the hut, Cenred’s warriors waiting in line, the watery and marshy land around them and the men posted on the mump to the east. He brushed his hands through his hair and nodded. The man by his side turned to their followers and ordered them to dismount.