CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
OUT OF THE ASHES
For hours afterwards, Bjólf sat brooding in the watchtower, staring out towards the vast, blackened hole at the forest's edge, beneath which the embers of the ship still glowed. None dared approach him. Even brave Klaufi, whose watch this should have been, would not go near. An anxious Halldís had asked Gunnar to keep an eye on his friend. He hardly needed telling to do that, but he reassured her he would. Bjólf's men, meanwhile, lurked outside their tents in a state of dejection. Cheated of the opportunity to strike at Skalla, their only other means of attack now taken from them, they sat around the fire, dazed and directionless, and waited - for what, they knew not.
Then, when the smoke had finally ceased to rise, Gunnar looked towards the tower and saw Bjólf gone. Atli was sent clambering up the ladder, and found nothing but a knotted rope secured to the support and lowered to the outside. Off in the distance, he could see Bjólf trudging past Óflár's stripped bones, heading for the vessel's charred remains.
Some time passed before Bjólf was seen again. He called out at the gate, and when admitted marched in without a word, soaked through, a sack over his shoulder. Gunnar could not tell for certain what it contained, but it was something large and rounded in shape.
"We thought you had gone for the treasure," he said, striding alongside his captain and eyeing the sack with a curious frown.
"That can stay at the bottom of the river," said Bjólf. "No good to us here."
"Hmm," Gunnar nodded. "Probably all melted into one great lump, anyhow." Bjólf did not reply. "So, er... what's in the bag?" Gunnar tried his best to sound casual, but acting was not his strong point.
"You'll see."
When they reached their encampment by the great hall, Bjólf dumped the sack on the ground. His men gathered without any word needing to be spoken. Halldís and Frodi, deep in conversation with Godwin and Fjölvar, cut short their discussion and hurried over, Halldís forcing her way to the front.
Bjólf looked around at them all and smiled briefly at the company, then tucked his thumbs into his belt and began.
"We know now what this Skalla is about. He has formidable weapons, that much is clear. But our will is the stronger." There was a mutter of approval. "You are aggrieved at having been robbed of the chance to stand against him. I know that. You want nothing more than to heft your weapons at him and his kind. I know that too. He thinks us destroyed. That is in our favour. Now the time has come to make our attack upon him."
With that, he upended the sack, and a big, heavy lump of wood thudded onto the ground. Charred, sodden with river water, but still sound and clear in shape - the dragon's head from the Hrafn. Bjólf picked it up and held it before him. "She has passed through fire. But she will sail again."
A murmur passed through the men. "But how?" exclaimed Gunnar, wondering, for a moment, whether his old friend had finally gone mad.
"We need more than a figurehead to carry us," said Njáll.
"Our ship is ash and embers," added Godwin. "Our only means of attack gone!"
"No!" said Bjólf, his eyes gleaming. "There is another..."
The men stared at each other in bewilderment, dumbstruck.
"Grimmsson's ship..." said Atli. He had spoken aloud without thinking, without realising he was doing it. The men looked at him in amazement.
"Grimmsson's ship," said Bjólf with a slow nod of his head, grinning broadly at the boy. A buzz of excitement suddenly gripped the crew; they chattered feverishly, some even laughing, enlivened by new possibilities.
"It was tethered," said Fjölvar. "It should still be there..."
Godwin nodded. "The death-walkers have no interest in ships. We know that much."
"But what if Skalla's men have discovered it?" said Kjötvi.
Úlf shook his head. "They knew of only one ship when they came today."
"We must act quickly," added Bjólf, "and get to it before it is found."
"How?" said Odo.
"We walk." Bjólf pointed past them all, towards the far end of the village, and the dark trees that lay beyond the stockade. "It lies southeast of here." He looked at Halldís. "A small bay, marked on one edge by a great boulder, half in the water."
"Ægir's Rock," She nodded. "I know it."
"How far?" asked Gunnar.
She shrugged. "A day. I can direct you. To the island in the fjord, too."
"But... the forest?" said Eyvind, a note of doubt in his voice. They had learned to fear the place in the last few days.
"The going would be hard," acknowledged Halldís. "The forest is dense, and the death-walkers wander its shadows."
"But they are lumbering beasts," said Gunnar. He hefted his axe. "We can handle them."
"Those 'lumbering beasts' wiped out Grimmsson's entire crew!" said Kjötvi.
"And Grimmsson's crew, we must assume, have joined their ranks," added Godwin. A few muttered their concern.
"But they were not prepared," said Bjólf. "Nor were we, that first night. But we know our enemy now."
Thorvald, who had survived the long vigil upon the ship when so many had perished, stepped forward, nodding. All fell silent. "We fared badly in our first encounter. But we learned quickly. They are slow, their behaviour simple. They do not hide the sound of their approach. On open ground, they can be easily seen. In the forest, easily heard. We have this one chance. My vote is to go."
Thorvald's words carried the weight to convince the doubters. "So, we have a plan!" announced Gunnar with delight, and gave his captain an almighty slap on the back.
"Gather provisions," called Bjólf. "And sharpen your blades. Tonight we sleep, and dream of wanton women. At first light we march to Skalla's ruin!"