But Edild was shaking her head. ‘No, he survived the fighting.’ She paused. ‘He was seen running away.’
It sounded as though Edild thought that was something to be ashamed of. ‘Running for his life, surely?’ I protested. ‘His king was defeated and lay dead, and his brothers Sagar and Sigbehrt had perished defending him.’ Edild did not answer. ‘Was he not right, to try to save himself?’ I asked in a small voice.
‘Perhaps, but Cordeilla believed he should have brought their bodies home to the island to be buried among our kin, and she was deeply upset.’ Edild closed her eyes, as if the memories pained her.
‘And she had no idea where he went or what became of him?’ It seemed unkind to press her, but I really needed to know.
Edild shrugged. ‘She was convinced he’d left England,’ she said. ‘Otherwise, she believed, he would have found some way to send word to her of his fortunes. Or lack of them,’ she added grimly.
‘Could he have gone to Spain?’ I asked timidly.
‘Spain?’ She shot me a look. ‘Why would he have gone to Spain?’
‘To make his fortune?’ I suggested.
She gave a short laugh. ‘And just how do you imagine he’d have gone about it, in a strange, foreign land where he had no kin, no friends, no contacts and, other than his abilities as a fighter, no skills?’
I nodded, accepting the wisdom of her words. Then – for she had folded her lips in a tight line, as if to indicate that the conversation was over – I started to clear away the supper.
Afterwards, tired out by my long day, I dozed by the hearth. When I’d drifted off, it had still been raining hard, the wind howling like a savage animal, and I’d thought that not even Hrype’s urgency would yield before such a violent storm. But the rain must have stopped, for when there was a soft tap on the door and Hrype came into the room, he was quite dry.
‘Are you ready?’ he demanded, glaring at me. ‘Fetch the stone,’ he added, not waiting for my reply, ‘and we’ll be on our way.’
I stayed where I was. Edild, on the opposite side of the fire, watched each of us in turn. Noticing her interest, Hrype made a low exclamation, then, grabbing hold of me, ushered me outside. The sky had cleared, I noticed, and it was a fine night, the moon just rising and shedding a pale light on the damp ground.
Hrype looked down at me, half-frowning, half-smiling. ‘I thought you’d be ready and eager to go,’ he remarked. ‘Especially after I told you who we’d be visiting tonight.’
‘You didn’t tell me anything of the sort!’ I flashed back.
‘Yes I did – I said there was someone else!’
‘But you didn’t say who it was,’ I said with exaggerated patience.
He studied me. ‘I didn’t think that was necessary.’
‘But-’
He sighed. ‘Think, Lassair. You know what it is I want you to try to decipher from within the shining stone.’
‘Yes, of course. You want to know what Skuli’s doing and where he’s going.’
‘Yes?’ He looked at me enquiringly.
Then I knew. It was obvious, and Hrype had been right to assume I’d have worked it out for myself. There was only one person who was intimately connected with both the stone and Skuli, and I’d been thinking about him only that afternoon. I’d had no idea he was anywhere near, and the thought that he was, and that, moreover, I seemed to be on my way to go and see him, made my heart sing for joy.
I grinned at Hrype. ‘I’ll fetch the stone,’ I said.
I slipped back inside and removed the stone from its place of concealment. Edild watched me, but made no comment. I felt guilty but if Hrype had chosen not to enlighten her, it wasn’t up to me to do so. With an apologetic smile, I wrapped myself in my shawl, went outside again and closed the door.
Then, hurrying to keep up with his long strides, I set off behind Hrype to go and find my grandfather.
FOURTEEN
‘If I try to get you out via the gates in the land walls,’ the big man said, ‘we won’t stand a chance, and both of us will fetch up in the emperor’s dungeons in neighbouring shackles while they decide how best to wrest the truth out of us. Yes, I know you’re no threat and have no terrible secrets to reveal.’ He spoke over Rollo’s interruption. ‘But if they are convinced you’re a spy, then that’s how you’ll be treated, and, believe me, you don’t want that fate.’
‘And you think they’d deal with you the same way?’ Rollo asked.
‘There’s no think about it,’ Harald replied grimly. ‘If and when they finally decide we’re telling them the truth, there won’t be much left of us that’s still in one piece, and we’ll wish we were dead.’
Rollo didn’t want to dwell on that. ‘So, we’ll get away by sea.’
‘You will,’ Harald corrected. ‘I’m not going anywhere.’ His expression saddened. ‘This is my home, for better or worse, and I’ll live out my days here.’ He gave a deep sigh, as if the prospect pained him. Then, with a visible effort, he looked up at Rollo and said, ‘As it happens, I know someone who’s sailing west in the very near future.’
‘Sailing west?’ Rollo echoed. What did that mean? He needed to get back to England; if he couldn’t share the intelligence he’d gathered so laboriously with Alexius in exchange for some hint as to the emperor’s intentions, then he must return to King William and reveal the discoveries to him.
Harald smiled briefly. ‘Just a turn of phrase. Everything’s west, to us out here in the east. This man is going to England.’
‘You’re sure?’ Rollo persisted.
‘Yes, yes,’ Harald replied impatiently, waving a hand as if to brush away the question. ‘That’s where he came from, so that’s where he’ll return.’ He paused. ‘It’s odd, because, now I come to think of it, you’re not the first man I’ve encountered recently who claims kinship or acquaintance with people in the east of England. This man I’m thinking of-’ But he stopped, shaking his head. ‘It’s not surprising, I suppose, when we still get so many arrivals who have sailed down the old route.’
Rollo was hardly listening. The prospect of a saviour, ready and waiting to take him away and out of danger, was all-absorbing. ‘What sort of vessel?’ he demanded. ‘Merchantman?’
Harald gave him a sly glance. ‘Not exactly.’ Before Rollo could ask more, Harald said, ‘First things first. You only got up out of your sick bed yesterday, so you ought to test yourself to see if your strength is returning. It’s not going to be easy getting you down to the harbour, and I don’t want you collapsing on me.’
For the rest of that day, Rollo alternated spells of increasingly demanding activity – Harald seemed to know a lot about putting a man through a strict drill – with periods of lying, panting, sweating and spent, on his bed. His appetite increased, and Harald fed him well. By evening, he felt he was starting to return to his usual form. The wound in his arm was healing, and his fever had not returned. He reckoned he was ready.
Harald agreed. ‘We’ll spend tomorrow as we spent today,’ he said, as Rollo prepared, with great relief, to turn in for the night. ‘Then, once darkness falls, I’ll get you down to the quay.’
‘Will this man be expecting me?’ Rollo asked. ‘And is he willing to take an extra passenger?’
‘He is,’ Harald said. ‘I saw him this morning when I went out for provisions. He was reluctant, but finally saw the benefits.’
Instantly Rollo was suspicious. ‘What do you mean, benefits?’
‘Never you mind,’ Harald said. ‘Get some sleep.’
The next day tested Rollo’s nerves to the limit. Knowing he was about to get away made him desperate with impatience, and the hours crept by with unbelievable sloth. He was also apprehensive: he and Harald would be out after curfew, and the prospect of evading the watch as the two of them made their stealthy way down to the shore was little short of terrifying. At one point, unable to restrain himself, he asked why they didn’t go in the daytime, but Harald merely said, ‘Leave it to me. I know what I’m doing.’