The Fighting Man. Adrian Deans

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      I must have slept, because I woke shivering and hungry in a grey half-light. For a few blissful moments, I recalled not the events of the previous day, but then it all came back and I realised I was lying in full view of the far bank and was still only a few hundred yards from the town. I picked up the still-wet bundle of Gram’s cloak and crept another fifty paces into the wood, where I found a small hollow with a comfortable log.

      The ground was damp from the heavy rains that had only settled the day before the wedding so the rising sun found me in a heavy mist which shimmered and sparkled silver and green as stray bolts of dawn sun pierced the forest. Birds began nervously to announce the day and I relaxed, knowing I was safe from searching men while the birds continued to sing.

      I spread Gram’s cloak on the ground and tears once again pricked at my eyes as I noted the pink stains around the many rents. But I needed warmth (and to cover my nakedness) so, using Holgar’s dagger, I cut a wide strip from the bottom of the cloak and was about to wrap my groin and butt when I realised I was not alone in the hollow.

      I half cried out in panic but it was a young woman – a woman I’d never seen before. She had long, black hair and was dressed in a tunic of animal skins with hide boots held in place with leather thongs. She was very thin, and more or less my age – certainly no older. I scrabbled for the knife and held it up as though to defend myself.

      ‘Always the knives,’ she said, in a tired voice, and I felt faintly ridiculous despite the perils of the last twelve hours.

      I lowered the knife and took further stock of her. There was blood on her hands, and at her feet was curled a dog of medium size with shaggy, red-brown hair.

      ‘This is the dog you wounded last night,’ she said. ‘His former master was killed by the Danes, so he is now your responsibility. That is justice.’

      I was so amazed at this turn of events that, for some moments, I was unable to speak. Then at last I said, ‘I don’t have time for dogs. I must get to King Edward to warn him of the raid … and get revenge for my family.’

      ‘Your family are dead,’ she said, ‘but the dog can be saved. I have wrapped a poultice over the wounds in his chest and foreleg, which you must change in three days. If the wounds are clean and sweet smelling, the dog will live and will simply need a cloth bandage for another three days … perhaps the cloth you are holding.’

      To my shame I realised that I was still completely naked and had been standing there for a minute or so holding a conversation with the girl without concealing my manhood, which then started responding to her presence. Hastily, I turned away and, with some discomfort, managed to wrap myself in the hem of Gram’s cloak.

      When I turned back, the dog lay whimpering on the ground, but the girl was gone.

      Chapter 2

      A Small Prick

      Malgard stared at the corpse of Holgar, feeling the fury rise within him. He had forgotten the ring, and now Holgar’s outstretched hand seemed to point directly at Ulrik who yawned and belched at Malgard’s side.

      ‘Holgar’s ring has been taken … the ring of his office given by the king. Your men are welcome to any other treasure from the field of battle but I must insist on the ring’s return.’

      Ulrik shrugged and farted carefully – his stomach still tender from yesterday’s bad meat and the night’s debauch.

      ‘I know nothing of rings, Malgard,’ he said, scratching at his dags through his woollen breeches. ‘And what does it matter? If a king gives one ring, he can give another. You will still be thegn, so start acting like one. Take command of your shithole town.’

      ‘His belt also is taken,’ said Angdred, standing close by, ‘ … and the dagger in his chest.’

      Malgard examined his brother’s body more closely. It was clear that someone had partly stripped him and taken the ring with some effort. It was then that he noticed that Gram, lying close to his father, had also been stripped.

      ‘His cloak,’ said Malgard. ‘His cloak has been taken … the green cloak with the boar’s head.’

      ‘Aah, so this was the groom?’ laughed Ulrik. ‘It’s not just his cloak we took. His bitch of a wife required some persuasion, but now she knows her place.’

      Malgard winced. As head of the family now, the rape of Fyllba was not something he wished to hear about, but Ulrik was in a loquacious mood.

      ‘She was unwilling at first … the fine ladies usually are. The best way to break them is to fuck them in front of the other women. Once the other women have seen them enjoying Danish cock they can no longer hide their dignity behind a wall of pretended shame. Of course, you have only a Saxon cock, Malgard … but it might work.’

      ‘Saxon cock!’ laughed Olaf Pighammer, spitting food and even his blind eye glinting merrily. ‘You’d send a mouse to do the work of a stallion?’

      ‘He could at least try,’ said Ulrik. ‘The size is less important than the public fucking. Even Saxon cock should work with nobles and nuns.’

      ‘I’m sure you know best, Ulrik,’ responded Malgard, refusing to be goaded and pondering the missing ring and cloak. It might just be random pillage, but taken together, they were two items of evidence to enhance Brand’s claim if in his possession.

      ‘Where is Brand?’ he wondered aloud, and Angdred cleared his throat nervously.

      ‘In the night, Lord,’ he said, ‘ … I cannot be certain, but I chased a shadow. Into the river it went.’

      Malgard turned fiercely on him.

      ‘Why did you not report this?’ he demanded, and Angdred shrank from his angry gaze.

      ‘I never actually saw him, Lord. For all I know, it was nothing.’

      ‘Nothing … and yet you chased?’

      Angdred shrugged.

      ‘I was patrolling as you bade me. A dog yelped, so I ran to investigate and he seemed to have suffered an injury. Then I examined the river’s edge and saw fresh marks in the mud that seemed to lead into the river. I hunted along the bank, but—’

      ‘But nothing,’ Malgard finished with contempt, and then considered – putting himself in Brand’s shoes. If Brand lived, then the chances were that he knew that Malgard was allied with the Danes. He would also know that his father and brother were dead and that he, therefore, had the greatest claim on his father’s title. Or at least, he would realise that before long. In which case, he would try to get to the king.

      Suddenly, Malgard knew fear – a small prick of it only, but his satisfaction at the success of the raid was soured by the realisation that Brand could ruin him, if he reached the king.

      ‘Find him!’ he snarled at Angdred, and then appealed once more to Ulrik Dragontooth. ‘I need men, Ulrik … to find the boy who slipped our net.’

      Ulrik shrugged again as he headed to the fire for warmth, and something solid to shore up his jittery guts.

      ‘I shall rest here two nights. If any of my men are finished with fucking your women and prepared СКАЧАТЬ