Read Online Raven: Sons of Thunder by Giles Kristian - Free Book Online

to lash to another ship and fight. My uncle Bothvar was drowned when his jarl, Ragnvald, tried the same thing in a swell.’ He sucked in a great breath. ‘They grappled their enemy’s boat and their enemy, a man named Moldof, even helped to lash them good and tight so that they could get on with the fighting. Perhaps Njörd was drunk that day and belched. Anyway, both dragons were swept off and wrecked on the lee shore. No man survived. Bothvar’s father saw it all from the cliffs.’ The oars sploshed and Serpent skimmed across the sea like a water snake. ‘We have no wind and the sea is calm,’ Svein said. ‘Yes, the gods are with us.’ I did not have to see Svein’s face to know the smile that was on it. I whispered a prayer to Óðin asking him to lend me courage and stop the shivering that was deepening now, eating into my muscles, turning my bowels to water and filling my guts with ice.
    I looked back at the beach and was relieved to see Cynethryth emerging from the low breakers. She stood in her sopping kirtle beside Father Egfrith and even at that distance I could see the short gown clinging to her breasts and I was glad that Egfrith was a Christ slave and, so far as I had seen, had no interest in women. I could not see her face but I remembered it well enough. Her scent was still on me like a spell, the only thing convincing me that we had just lain together and that it was not some dream sent by Freyja goddess of love, who weeps tears of red gold.
    ‘There they are, the sheep piss drinking whoresons!’ Sigurd bellowed, striding forward in sheer craving, like Fenrir straining at his chain. I could not look behind me easily but I could imagine the terror-struck faces of Fjord-Elk ’s crew as they read the weave and weft of their doom. ‘Kill them all!’ Sigurd yelled, spittle lacing his beard in the red morning light.‘But leave the turd Ealdred for me. I’ll take the head of any man who touches him.’ I looked over to Penda. He stood at the mast step, feet apart, sword and shield ready, a thin smile on his scarred face. He was not trusted to row yet. Normally you could not take your place on a fine dragon ship such as Serpent unless you could row hard and well enough to carry a ship off the ocean’s edge, and fight like a demon, too. It was unlikely that Penda could row well. He had spent the first day aboard puking his guts into the waves. But the man could fight and Sigurd knew it. Penda was a born killer, a warrior of rare skill, and to Sigurd’s mind this made up for the rowing. Besides, even though we had lost many, with all who remained on one ship there were more men than row benches.
    ‘You can’t touch Ealdred, Penda,’ I shouted in English to the Wessexman.
    ‘Who says I can’t?’ he yelled above the clamour of men rousing themselves to violence with curses, prayers and howls.
    ‘Sigurd says it,’ I called, and Penda spat at his feet and growled something foul. Penda wanted his own revenge, but like the rest of us would have to wait. In the Fellowship Sigurd’s word was law and that law was backed by his own right arm and his father’s blade.
    I leant back in the stroke, heaving, relishing the swell of the muscles across my shoulders, for I was broad now and proud of it. Sweat began to pour down my back beneath my leather gambeson and mail. I wondered how Penda could spit, for my own mouth was as dry as old pine needles, though I was not the only one whose nerves were dancing. Two of the men not at the oars were pissing over the side even as we sped to a battle. I could hear old Asgot shouting at Serpent ’s prow, invoking Óðin Lord of War, Thór Slayer of Giants, brave Týr the battle god, and other gods too, gods whose names I had never heard, to help us kill our enemies, slaughter them for being followers of the White Christ who was a god of lepers and weaklings.And whatever I thought of Asgot, there was comfort in his wild keening. We all put some stock in the godi’s