With the makings of a truly splendid bonfire thus prepared aboard each of the four craft, Cormac saw no more need to wait. He’d availed himself of the scalemail shirt off the larger of the two carles, and taken his helmet and shield besides. Wulfhere remained half-naked; none of the three dead men had even approached him in bulk.
A whistle brought Knud hastening from his place on the rocks.
The guards at the skalli saw torches flare suddenly aboard their master’s ships. The red light gleamed on half-naked weapon-men; one, two; by the Gods! Three in each ship! Voices called through the night in Danish accents. That huge redbeard yonder; he could be none other, surely-
“HO, LITTLE MEN!” he bellowed. “Go tell your master that Wulfhere Skull-splitterrr is come a-guesting! Fetch out that maggoty treacher Hengist, as well! Let none approach closely now, lest these ships make the finest beacons ever to light your shore! All garnished they are, and prepared to, burn like dry straw! Be sure ye tell Fritigern that! He will appreciate what it means!”
Fritigern appreciated it all too well. The skalli gates creaked open within minutes. Fritigern Redjowl strode forth at the, head of forty warriors. A heavy, balding man was this Fritigern, with a yellow beard.
“What bawling is this?” he demanded harshly. “Pull them out of yon ships and strike off their heads!”
“HOLD!” Wulfhere thundered, in a voice whose sheer volume stayed them all. “Come a step closer, and these ships burn!”
“Aye!” Cormac seconded grimly. “It’s kegs of pitch we have aboard them, here under the sails-and the timbers be soaked in lamp-oil from stem to stern. Smell it?” The lamp-oil was an embellishment that he thought safe; an he suggested it was there to be scented, the Saxons would smell it. “We fire your ships if we must, Redjowl, and then we die fighting. It’s three of us there be in each vessel; ’tis a fine ship-burial will be ours, and slain foes to attend us as funeral sacrifices! Four fine ships! Be the price worth it to ye?”
Fritigern’s men howled fiercely, and pressed forward. He turned on them with bellowed curses and beat them back with the flat of his sword.
“Ye be talking, not doing!” he snarled to Wulfhere. “There’s something ye want, and ye hold my ships to ransom. What?”
“Now there’s a foolish question! We want our own ship Raven, that Hengist robbed from the Britons of Armorica while our backs were turned! One ship, in exchange for four ye will otherwise lose! Bring her out, Fritigern, and have her launched. Then will we bid ye a peaceful good even.”
Fritigern scowled and went silent. He did not try to maintain that he knew not what Wulfhere and Cormac meant, or that Raven was not within his skalli. He didn’t ask angrily what Hengist’s activities had to do with him. Belike he was afraid of convincing Wulfhere that he’d come to the wrong place. An he did, his ships were just as apt to go up in a gout of fire. Was as no civilized man Wulfhere was known.
All possible doubt was cleared away in the next moment. A towering mailed figure came astalking through the torchlit gates. The watery light seemed to shudder away from him. The tall horned helmet, the glittering scalemail corselet, the long iron-grey beard, the cruel face, and above all the immense presence of the man-these things announced him more certainly than any spokesman. He was a giant, as big as Wulfhere Skull-splitter, on whom his cold eyes were fixed.
He bore a shield with the device of a white horse, and a naked sword.
“Hengist;” Cormac breathed.
The grey giant took in the situation at a glance.
“So, fools,” he said in a voice like the crash of surf, “ye came hither to die with but a handful of men for company? I’d prefer taking ye quick, but doubtless I must be content with your corpses. In, and slay them!”
“Stand!” Fritigern bellowed. “Those be my ships, and I rule here! Pursue your own feuds at your own cost, Hengist! They want Raven; give her to them.”
Hengist laughed sneeringly. “Not likely! Raven has served her purpose by luring these fools here! They die tonight. Ye rule here? Why, ye seagull, I might have your head at any time I called for it!”
“In Kent ye might,” Fritigern answered dourly. “Ye be not in Kent now. Ye came south wi’ three ships’ companies, from which ye’ve had losses. On this strand my men outnumber yours.”
“Ye’d fight me?” Hengist asked incredulously.
“An I’m pushed to it.”
Wulfhere forgot the pain of the black owl’s talons in his vast, beatific joy at the look on Hengist’s face. Saxon or not, he could have hugged Fritigern Redjowl and called him brother in that moment.
“Loki swallow your ships!” Hengist burst out at last. “I’ll replace them! Nay, I’ll give ye five! Now slaughter yon dogs!”
“Promises!” Fritigern growled. “Nay.”
Wulfhere roared with laughter. “Now that be the decision of a wise man! Promises? Jutish promises? The Jutish promises of Hengist especially? All men know what Hengist’s promise be worth-even his oath! Who swore an oath to serve the British king Vortigern against Picts and Scots, and later broke it to fight against Vortigern? Who lured Vortigern to a council feast to talk peace, where all present were supposed to be unarmed-and whose followers had each a knife in his sleeve?”
Wulfhere ended his spate of rhetorical questions by stabbing a finger at Hengist.
“Danish dog!” Hengist roared, frothing. “Step down here and fight me! Single combat between yourself and me!”
“Ah, nay! I’ve come for Raven, not your poor ancient head.” Wulfhere was enjoying himself. “Besides, I’ll not be trusting to your oath, ye forsworn treacherous oath-breaking bastard! An ye wish to fight, step onto this ship and battle me here! Wulfhere Skull-splitter’s oath has never been broken; all men know that! I say ye shall go untouched by these comrades o’ mine, should ye accept!”
Hengist snarled incoherently. He seized a spear and flung it. Wulfhere sprang aside; the spear hissed harmlessly into the dark, to slay sand. The old bastard aimed well, even by night and enraged to the quivers!
“Nay!” Fritigern cried. “Don’t burn the ships! Here, ye fellows, seize Hengist and hold him!”
The order was obeyed-but it took eight brawny caries to perform it. Hengist raved and struggled like a berserker.
“Ye men of Hengist’s!” Fritigern called. Let none be interfering with this, else by Wotan I’ll slay him where he lies. Now fetch out Raven and launch her!”
“Aye, Hengist!” Wulfhere mocked. “Hear ye that, old niddering? Hengist the niddering! Why, ye crazy long-toothed dotard, it’s home in your shut-bed ye should be, hugging the furs about ye, not faring asea in pretense that your aged arms can still swing a weapon! Mumble over your porridge and remember the days of your youth-when ye saw Caesar conquer Britain!”
There followed more of the same. Wulfhere was hardly subtle. Hengist, roaring like a gale, froth spattering his beard, surged up from the sand and for a moment actually looked as if he might break the eightfold grip upon him. One of the carles regretfully struck him hard on the head with a bludgeon-and then had to, strike again, harder, ere Hengist would lie still.
Raven was drawn out through the skalli gate on rollers. Cormac and Wulfhere felt their hearts race at the sight of her.
“Let’s be sure she has oars in her!” mac Art commanded. “’Twould be awkward for us, to pile aboard in a rush and find that we couldn’t row! Display us all her other furnishings, too; mast, sail, anchors and such.’ “
Wulfhere admired the neat way Cormac had contrived to learn whether Raven’s anchors were still in her-without betraying his powerful interest in them-by merely lumping them with all her other furnishings. The oars and the rest were displayed, after Fritigern had given an abrupt nod of assent.