River of Destiny. Barbara Erskine

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ Steve confirmed. ‘The blessing is that they don’t stay long. The kids will have to go back to school at some point.’

      Both men were silent for a while. Ken reached for an oily rag and began slowly to wipe his fingers on it. ‘Odd thing happened the other night when we came home after dark,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘Did Zoë mention it to Rosemary? Strange noises out here on the river.’

      Steve laughed. ‘Yes, she told me. I’ve never heard them.’

      ‘But you know about them.’

      ‘Load of crap, in my view.’ Steve was rhythmically kicking the seaweed-covered post beneath him ‘Sound carries over water, we all know that. There was probably someone messing round upstream somewhere. They could have been a long way away so you wouldn’t have been able to see them.’

      Ken grinned ‘You’re right. That could well have been it. Or I did wonder if it could have been smugglers bringing contraband up-river, drugs or illegal immigrants. It was a bit odd.’

      ‘The little woman scared?’ Steve laughed again.

      ‘Something like that.’

      ‘I reckon you’re more likely to be right than the girls’ theory that it is a ghostly visitor.’ With another snort of laughter Steve drummed a further tattoo with his heels on the wooden piles beneath him. ‘Don’t let her talk to Leo about it,’ he went on. ‘He’s a bit fey, in my opinion. Probably something to do with that ghastly accident the poor chap had. He reckons it is a Viking longship.’

      Ken nodded sagely. ‘I haven’t met him yet. He always pops in when I’m not there.’ He sensed rather than saw Steve glance at him sharply.

      ‘I wouldn’t worry.’ Steve thought for a minute. ‘I doubt if he’s a lady’s man. Not looking like that. He would stir up compassion in a stone wall, but I don’t get the feeling he’s a danger to our women.’ Ken refrained from pointing out that Steve’s wife was a weather-beaten battle-axe, while his was still young and attractive. It seemed unnecessarily unkind.

      ‘He’s not gay?’

      ‘No. In fact I think he’s married. But separated. Our cleaning lady, Annie, mentioned it; said she walked out on him after the accident. What a bitch.’

      Ken noticed Steve pat his pockets speculatively for the third time and he gave a knowing grin. ‘Am I right in thinking you’ve given up smoking?’

      Steve nodded. ‘Can’t get used to not having any on me.’

      ‘Would you like to come aboard for a lager? Then you can tell me about this Viking ship.’

      Ten minutes later the men were seated in the cockpit of the Lady Grace. ‘You know we’re only a few miles from Sutton Hoo, the Anglo-Saxon site where they found the great ship burial,’ Steve said as he made himself comfortable and pulled the tab on the can.

      ‘We haven’t been there yet.’ Ken leaned back into the corner and rested his arm companionably over the tiller. ‘Is it worth seeing?’

      ‘I enjoyed it. There is a museum and a café and a shop, and then you walk out to these burial mounds. Nothing much to see there, just grass, and nice walks overlooking the river, a bit like this actually, but round where they found the ship it all feels a bit special, even I have to admit that.’

      ‘And this ship is the same as the one Zoë and Leo are talking about?’

      Steve frowned. ‘I assume so. Is Viking the same as Anglo-Saxon?’ Both men shook their heads. ‘History is not my thing,’ Ken said after a moment. His attention was caught by a movement over Steve’s shoulder. Out in the river a cormorant flew low over the water, its dark iridescent wings and sharp head and beak a black arrow against the green of the rising tide.

       5

      Eric shaded his eyes from the glare with a raised hand and watched as the bird skimmed low over the river. It came to rest on a tree stump and shook its wings, almost at once staring around at the water, ready to dive if it spotted a fish. He gave a grim smile. Observant bird. Cunning. Not missing a thing. He hooked his thumbs into his broad leather belt, feeling the cold working its way into his bones. He had spent too long indoors, too long with the furnace and hammer. Not enough time with his wife.

      ‘Is the sword ready?’

      The voice behind him was persistent, always there.

      ‘I will tell you when it is ready!’ he yelled, and he spun round furiously, his fist raised. There was no one there. He stared left and right incredulously. There was no one in sight; the village was deserted, the women indoors at the loom or spinning, the men out in the fields making all ready before the first of the autumn storms.

      He took a deep breath to steady himself and turned back to the river. He was imagining things again.

      Beware of elf-shot. He heard his mother’s voice in his head and smiled fondly.

      What would the priest say to her warnings; unexplained illness and injuries caused by insidious small arrows fired by unseen spirits? Oh, Wulfric believed in the spirits too. They all believed in the spirits, but he would have a different weapon against them. Cross yourself, man. Ward off the evil eye. Guard your woman with Christian prayers. Eric shook his head slowly. No, he had tried Christian prayers. They did not work; they did not bring him fine sons. Working for a man who had turned back to the old ways and the old gods had made him realise their potency. And yet. He closed his eyes for a moment. Whose voice was it he thought he had heard? Hrotgar, the thegn’s reeve. The man was a devout Christian like the Lady Hilda. As was his own wife, Edith. He sighed. He was spending too long on the sword; there were other things to make, other people waiting, including a weapon for the ealdorman at Rendlesham, who was a kinsman of King Edmund, but this sword was special; it was his masterpiece; it would be carried into war against the Viking host, if not by Lord Egbert, then by his successor, and it would bring safety and blessing and renown to their village.

      His eyes narrowed as he saw a movement in the distance; beyond the palisade someone was walking across the beaten earth, heading up towards the hall; a man, and there, in front, he could see the soft green of his wife’s tunic and cloak. He saw Edith hesitate and he saw her turn to wait for the second figure. The two converged, their shadows merging in the bright sunlight. He clenched his fists as he watched. They had stopped walking. They were talking. They were standing very close staring into each other’s faces and then as he stood helplessly, the length of a field away, he saw them turn from the path and disappear between the houses. His cry of anguish echoed out across the cold water. At the sound the cormorant stretched out its wings and launched itself upriver and out of sight.

      He was spending too much time with Bella. Dan was well aware of it, but he blamed himself for the horse’s state, and she was responding. She greeted him now with a soft whinny of recognition when he approached her stall, and she had begun to eat. The swelling was going down on her legs, but nothing could be done about the terrible scars which remained as ugly gashes over her fetlocks. How had the woman done it, СКАЧАТЬ