Ingvar’s face was alert with sudden interest. ‘There is such an animal. Some years ago I came across a broken piece of its horn.’
My heart gave a lurch. ‘Where was this?’
‘I had gone to the coast to catch those birds whose flesh you so enjoy. A broken piece of its horn was lying on the beach, just a small fragment. Maybe the creature had been fighting with a rival and damaged the spike.’
‘Do you still have it?’
He flipped his knife in the air, caught it by the blade, and held it out to me.
‘Take a look,’ he said.
The handle was dark wood, much polished with use. Where it tapered towards the hilt was a creamy yellow band, the width of my little finger. I looked at it more closely. It had been inset into the wood, and was a section of pale horn or some sort of ivory. Without question, the surface bore the distinctive spiralling twist of the unicorn’s horn.
*
The moment I got back to Kaupang, I placed the gyrfalcons in Gorm’s care and hurried off to check on Walo and the two ice bears. Ohthere was standing in front of their cage, chewing on what I supposed was his favourite whale blubber.
‘If they get any bigger I’ll have to build them a larger, much stronger enclosure,’ he said as I joined him.
In the week I had been away, the two ice bears had thrived more than I would have imagined possible. They had grown several inches in height and length, put on weight, and their fur was losing its ugly yellow tinge.
‘So Walo’s doing a good job,’ I said.
Ohthere nodded. ‘Twice a day he crawls in there, plays that wretched pipe, gives them food and water, brushes their coats, scratches them behind the ears. I won’t be surprised to see him rolling around and wrestling with them one day.’
‘So he’s tamed the bears.’
‘Not at all! If anyone else goes near them, they start that snaky movement, side to side with their heads. A warning that they’re about to lash out. They won’t let anyone near them except Walo.’
‘Where is he now?’
‘With Osric. The two of them are helping Redwald. That crafty rogue drove a shrewd bargain over the price of my bears.’
As I walked away, heading into the town, he called out, ‘And tell Redwald that I want to talk with him about who’s going to pay for their food. They’re consuming eight chickens every day, and all the lard I can get my hands on.’
I identified Redwald’s place of work by a pile of quern stones. They were heaped outside one of the small, wooden houses just beyond the slave market. Inside I found Redwald standing in the light from the window, moodily rubbing a piece of broken silver jewellery against his touchstone. He looked round as I entered and treated me to a smile of genuine welcome.
‘Back already, Sigwulf! How did you get on?’
‘Two more white gyrfalcons, one male, one female. And an eagle, but that’s of little interest.’
He reached up and brushed back the strand of hair, which, as usual, had slid away from his bald patch. ‘Carolus’s mews master will find a place for that eagle.’
‘And pay you handsomely?’ I suggested.
‘Of course. I’m a Frisian. I never miss a chance to turn a profit.’
‘Yet you don’t seem to have sold many of the quern stones.’
He waved dismissively. ‘They have their uses. Everyone knows that Redwald brings a cargo of wine to Kaupang each year as well as quern stones. So when they see the display, they know there’s a decent drink nearby. It avoids open competition with the other taverns.’
‘Is Walo with Osric on your ship?’
‘You’ll find both of them next door. I’ve rented half that building.’
It was one of the long boat-shaped structures with a turf roof and, when I entered, I found that wooden partitions divided the interior into a line of rooms, each with its own door, all firmly closed. The first one I looked into contained an array of barrels and crates. I recognized the wine that had been Redwald’s cargo. The next was a drinking den, with several rough-looking customers seated on benches with their cups and tankards. They gave me a less-than-welcoming reception as I peered in. I closed the door hastily and went to investigate the next room that proved to be much smaller, with a single table and a couple of stools. Walo and Osric were bent over the table, sorting through a pile of fresh plant leaves.
‘Walo, I’ve seen the ice bears. You’re doing a splendid job,’ I congratulated him.
Walo bobbed his head and grinned happily.
‘How did you get on with the trapper?’ Osric asked.
I told him about the two white gyrfalcons and described the sliver of unicorn’s horn that decorated Ingvar’s knife.
‘I’ve got something to show you,’ said Osric. He glanced at Walo. ‘Can you find somewhere to put these leaves so they dry in the sun?’
‘What are those?’ I asked my friend as Walo carefully gathered up the leaves.
‘Black horehound is your Saxon name for the plant. Chewing the leaves staves off sea sickness.’
I waited until Walo had left the room and was about to ask Osric why he had left our silver unguarded, when my friend forestalled me.
‘Hear me out, Sigwulf,’ he said flatly. ‘The silver’s in safe keeping . . . what’s left of it. The only times I’ve been off the ship were when I knew Redwald was safely in town, and it’s just as well that I came ashore.’
He held my gaze, his dark eyes troubled. ‘I had a chance to talk with one of those Khazar slave traders while you’ve been away.’
‘Is there something wrong?’
‘There could be.’ Osric lowered his voice. ‘The Byzantines won’t be pleased when they learn about our mission to Baghdad. The Khazar confirmed that the basileus in Constantinople is at war with the caliph. It’s an all-out conflict, Christian against Saracen.’
I recalled that the caliph styled himself Commander of the Faithful. ‘Do you think they will try to disrupt our mission?’
‘The basileus would prefer Carolus to despatch troops to help him fight his battles, not send exotic animals as presents to the foe.’
‘Maybe Constantinople won’t find out what we are about,’ I said.
My friend shook his head. ‘Not a chance. The Greeks place their spies everywhere. No one pays more for gathering intelligence on their neighbours. I wouldn’t be surprised if they allowed the Khazars to travel to Kaupang on condition that they brought back information for them.’
‘But the slave traders don’t know why we’ve come to Kaupang.’
‘I’m afraid they do. I as good as told them.’
I was shocked. Osric and I had agreed to keep our mission a secret. We would explain our presence in Kaupang only to those who, like Ohthere and Gorm, could supply white animals. By being discreet, we should avoid coming to the attention of King Offa who was sure to have his informers at the market. I opened my mouth to ask Osric why he had been so reckless, when he held up a hand and cut me short. ‘I think you will agree it was worthwhile.’
My friend reached under the table and brought out a long, thin package wrapped in heavy purple velvet cloth and secured with a cord of crimson silk. ‘I mentioned to the Saracen that I had originally studied to be a doctor. He said he had acquired an item likely to be of great interest to a medical man.’
‘Sounds as though he was trying to sell you something.’
‘He was, and I was sufficiently intrigued to ask him to show me what he was talking about.’
I waited for Osric to continue. His slim brown fingers were untying the knots in the silk cord. Slipping off the binding, he set the package on the table and gently unrolled the square of velvet to display what it contained.
A complete unicorn horn.
I felt something tighten in my chest, and for several moments was lost for words. The horn was exactly as depicted on the brow of the unicorn in Carolus’s bestiary. Two inches thick at the base, it was the length of my outstretched arm and tapered to a fine point, the twisting spiral impossible to mistake.
My hand shook as I reached forward and picked it up. It was a little lighter than I would have expected, and the same faded yellowish-creamy colour as on the haft of Ingvar’s knife.