Read Online Raven: Blood Eye by Giles Kristian - Free Book Online Page B

the air and pretended to spit. Folk will happily walk in the mire to avoid me, was what he meant. Then he scratched his bristly chin and pulled a sour face as if to say, And as for me . . . He clenched his swollen fists, popping several knuckles, then made the sign for cups and platters. 'So what if folk know your hands are not what they once were?' I said. 'You're an old man. They won't expect you to work their wood for ever.' But this brought a bitter smile to Ealhstan's lips, for I had struck the nail clean. He was an old man and I was an outsider. Why would anyone come for us, even if they knew where to find us? He pointed to my blood-eye and nodded towards the heathen in front of us, and I knew what his words would have been if his mouth still held a tongue: Keep fixing these bastards with that unnatural eye of yours, lad. Put some fear in their heathen bellies.
     
'Sigurd believes I'm from Óðin All-Father, their chief god,' I said, matching the Norsemen's stroke again. 'He says that Óðin put me in his way for a purpose hidden like a knife in a sheath.'
     
Ealhstan grunted, rapped his knuckles against his head and sprinkled something invisible across the deck, his way of saying I had wood dust for brains. Then he pointed at Jarl Sigurd, made the same gesture and touched the ship's top strake and banged his fists together. 'You think Sigurd is a fool and I am a fool to listen to him,' I said, 'and you think we might as well jump overboard, for a fool is likely to run his ship aground before long.' I shook my head, and the old man grimaced, turning to look out across the sea once more.
     
 
     
But Sigurd did not wreck Serpent , and neither did his shipmaster Glum wreck Fjord-Elk , the other ship. When there was good wind, their great square sails pushed us westward, and when there was none, the Norsemen rowed as though they had been born at the oar. At night they fished and played games, sang, drank ale and arm-wrestled. A huge red-haired man called Svein sat for the most part looking miserable because no one would challenge him. But what I noticed most about the Norsemen was how much they laughed. They laughed at the smallest things, such as when Olaf complained about toothache or when his white-haired son Eric muttered a girl's name in his sleep. I noticed too that they were younger than I had first thought. Their faces were weather-beaten and their beards unkempt, but in their blue eyes I saw men in their prime, and this new familiarity made it harder to recall the savagery that I knew bristled within them, beneath the wind-burned, salty skin. Now of course I know that it is the young who are capable of the most terrible cruelty. A young man will kill without a second thought, then rejoice in the slaughter. But time will often smother the flames of his heart and the older man is more likely to sheathe his blade, seeing in his opponent his own son or his daughter's husband. These Norse were young men and laughter or no they were dangerous. They were killers.
     
'If we're lucky it will pass to the east before it breaks,' Eric said. The youngest Norseman's face was turned up to the blackening sky so that his white hair fell straight, and from where I sat at my oar port he looked afraid.
     
'Not this time, son,' Olaf said flatly. 'I doubt even Sigurd can make Njörd smile today.' Olaf turned to me. 'Njörd governs the flights of the winds,' he called, sweeping an arm westward. 'He controls sea and flame . . .' he grinned sourly, 'and he is in a foul mood today.' Every man aboard was staring up at the evil-looking black cloud sitting so low in the sky that I could have shot an arrow into its belly to release the deluge. Round its edge was a halo of brilliant silver light, but we were far from its edge. An angry wind began to slap the woollen sail and rattle the shields that the Norsemen had mounted on Serpent 's sides that morning to warn off another dragon ship headed east on the horizon.
     
'We're in the storm's