IN HIS TIME in the exploratores, Hagan had learned skills in tracking, infiltrating and how to observe without being observed oneself. This, combined with his experience and inherent skills in hunting meant that he had little difficulty following the two cloaked figures.
After charging down the three flights of stairs in the tenement as fast as it was safe to, he crept out the front door then hurried around the edge of the square, careful to keep to the shadows to reduce the chance of his being seen. By the time he reached the far side Gunhild and her companion were gone, but from their previous direction he could judge which street they had left by. Sure enough, as he started down it himself, he glimpsed the two hooded figures in a shaft of moonlight at the far end.
Hagan rushed as fast as was prudent along the dark, silent street as the two figures ahead disappeared around the corner. He had no fear of being seen, his biggest concern was falling into a gutter in the dark. When he got to the end of the street himself he turned the same way as the others and found himself amid the dense gloom of a side street that ran parallel to the walls that surrounded the city.
A light flared up ahead. Hagan froze, then pulled his dark cloak around himself as he sank to a crouch. As he watched from the shadows he saw that about fifty paces further along the street, Gunhild had lit a torch. She held it aloft as her companion went down on one knee and began working at something on the ground. The torchlight fell on his features, confirming that it was indeed Gunderic who accompanied Gunhild. After a few moments the king raised what looked like a heavy wooden trapdoor in the ground.
Hagan felt a thrill pass through his heart. Was this where the treasure lay hidden – in some secret hole under the streets of Geneva? Had it been resting right under his very feet since he got here?
Then Gunderic and Gunhild clambered down into the hole the trapdoor had covered, taking their torch with them. The street plunged back into darkness as they pulled the trapdoor closed behind them.
Hagan hurried after them. When he judged he was about where they had been he fell to his hands and knees and began sweeping his hands across the ground. His fingers slid over cold stone flags, laid by the Romans untold years before, then he felt the wood of the trapdoor. It was made of stout planks bound with iron strips. His finger made out a bolt and what felt like a large key hole.
This could not be the entrance to a treasure hoard, Hagan realised. Though it was sturdy and made to keep people out it was in the middle of a street. Folk must know it was there.
Hagan raised it a crack. Peering down he could not see much except the faint orange glow of flickering torchlight reflected on what looked like stone steps. This was the entrance to some sort of passage. Hagan looked up at the city walls that loomed above the street. He realised that Gunhild and Gunderic had gone into a secret tunnel, the sort that existed in most walled towns and cities. It would run under the walls and some way away underground from the town, where at last it would open in some out of the way or secluded place. In times of siege it could be used to smuggle food into the town or to launch surprise attacks on the besieging warriors. In times of peace, when it was not guarded, it was perfect for what it was being used for now by those who had a key for it – to sneak in and out of the town without anyone knowing.
Hagan pulled the trapdoor open, confident Gunderic could not have locked it behind him. The tunnel was for keeping people out so all locks, bolts and security would be on the city side of its entrances and exits. The faintness of the retreating torch glow told him that the other two were already some way along the tunnel, so without hesitation Hagan went down the steps and pulled the door shut above him. At the bottom of the steps he could see the passageway leading off. Perhaps sixty paces along it Gunhild and Gunderic were hurrying away, the flames of the torch licking the dank, slime-covered stones that made up the roof overhead.
He set off after the others. The air was chilled and smelled of damp earth and he tried to not make too much noise as his feet splashed through puddles on the floor.
Before long the light ahead once again vanished, which told Hagan that Gunhild and Gunderic had left the tunnel. Plunged back into total blackness, Hagan had to slow down once more, though his training meant he knew how to keep moving even in the dark. He kept his left arm outstretched before him to detect anything he might walk into, while he swept his feet along the ground rather than lifting them, so as not to trip over some hidden obstacle.
After some time his left hand touched the stone of a rising staircase and he knew he was at the other end. Hagan scrambled up the steps and found they ended in what felt like the wood of another trapdoor. As with the entrance, the latch and bolt were on the inside, so Hagan knew it would not be fastened shut from the outside.
With aching slowness, he lifted the trapdoor a little.
Hagan froze.
He could hear Gunderic’s voice. He was not far away. Mere paces from the trapdoor by the sound of it. Fearful of making a movement the other two might spot, or the trapdoor crashing shut with a bang, Hagan remained still where he was, holding the door open a little with the top of his head.
‘Where is that husband of yours?’ he heard Gunderic say. His voice was tetchy. ‘He should have been here to meet us. We don’t have all night!’
So Sigurd is part of this too, Hagan thought. This confirmed that they were going to the treasure, just as Zerco had surmised they would.
Hagan could not see Gunderic or Gunhild through the narrow gap the raised trapdoor left, but their burning torch illuminated the grass and the trunks of surrounding trees. He surmised the tunnel ended in a sheltered copse among the woods not far from the city walls; the perfect place to come and go from Geneva without being seen.
After a short but ever more uncomfortable wait for Hagan supporting the trapdoor with his head, as he was, the soft thump of horses’ hooves on damp earth heralded the arrival of someone else.
‘There you are, dearest husband,’ Hagan heard Gunhild say. ‘My brother was starting to complain.’
‘I had to have these horses taken from the reserve stables then saddled and prepared. That’s why I took so long,’ Sigurd said. ‘When I went to the stables the ready horses had all been taken. The old man and his raven fighters are out on one of their hunts in the woods tonight.’
‘What did you tell the grooms you needed these ones for?’ Gunderic said. Hagan could hear the concern in his voice.
‘I told them I was joining Wodnas in his hunting,’ Sigurd said. ‘Which put the fear of Tiwass into them. They didn’t ask any more questions after that.’
He gave an evil-sounding little chuckle.
‘If Wodnas is hunting the woods tonight could that hinder us?’ Gunhild said.
‘We’ve nothing to fear from him or his black bird soldiers,’ Sigurd said in a derisive voice. ‘He won’t touch us. He wouldn’t dare. Don’t worry your pretty head about that, dear.’
‘But he might see us,’ Gunhild said. Hagan could hear the exasperation in her tone. ‘He might try to follow us.’
‘Then we’ll just have to tell him to mind his own business,’ Gunderic said. ‘Besides, I knew he would be hunting with his men tonight. I gave him two criminals due for execution for his quarry.’
‘Do you think it’s wise to let him continue these hunts, Gunderic?’ Gunhild said, still sounding dubious. ‘If the ordinary folk find out you know of it and allow it to happen they may start to look on you as a tyrant.’
‘Wodnas hunts law-breakers, perverts and prisoners of war,’ Sigurd said. Hagan could picture the sneer on his lips without needing to see it was there. ‘Men who will die anyway.’
‘Most of the ordinary folk think the hunt is supernatural: led by the Devil – if they’re still Christian – or some jötnar or other monster,’ Gunderic said with a little snort. ‘The ones who know it’s Wodnas are too scared of him to do anything about it. Anyway, the old man insists that it’s necessary. He needs to harden his warriors. So if a few prisoners dying is the cost of making our war horde more deadly, then that’s a price I’m prepared to pay. And it’s all the better that he is abroad tonight, it will keep the ordinary folk indoors. They’re terrified of the Wild Hunt. There will be less prying eyes who might catch sight of us. Now let’s go.’
Hagan listened to the creaking of saddle leather and straps as the others mounted. This was followed by the receding sound of hooves as the trio rode away. The glow of the torch went with them.
Hagan waited as long as he thought necessary, then pushed the trapdoor fully open and scrambled out of the tunnel. He was indeed in a grove of trees outside the city walls. There was no one else around except for Gunderic, Gunhild and Sigurd who were riding away down a path through the woods.
Crouching low, Hagan closed the trapdoor then prepared himself to follow the others. It would not be easy tracking mounted quarry, but the darkness meant that they could not ride too fast. Even trotting could lead to a trip and resulting fall and a gallop would be suicide. With the sound of the horses he would not have to be too careful about any noise he made himself. All the same, he would have to run to keep up.
Taking a few deep breathes through his nose, Hagan wrapped himself in his cloak, pulled his hood down and set off, jogging along the path after the riders.
The path led uphill and it was not long before Hagan was panting and sweating, despite the chill of the night. His lungs began to burn and his legs felt heavy but he knew from experience – long forced marches with the Roman Army – that he had to keep going and push through it. If he did, then soon he would find himself in a state where his breathing was easy and he would feel like he could keep on going for miles, or at least until exhaustion began to set in.
The three riders followed the path until it emerged near an old Roman road. Here they turned left and began following it. Hagan did the same, though he kept to the side of the road in the gloom of the woods so as not to be easily spotted. There was enough moonlight to see that the road went perpendicular to the great Lake Geneva, bisecting woods that rose above the city and denser forest that covered the rising ground on the other side of the road that rose up to eventually become mountains that towered against the night sky.
After following the road for perhaps a Roman mile or more, the party on horseback stopped. Gunderic jumped off his horse and examined something beside the road, perhaps some hidden sign or secret marking. Then he remounted and led the other two off the road on the other side, onto a path through the forest that led to the mountains.
Hagan picked up his pace to catch up and followed them into the forest. Soon he found himself in the dark bosom of the surrounding pine trees. The darkness closed in and his feet moved over a soft carpet of fallen pine needles. Hagan began to fear that he might trip over a root or fallen branch.
Gunderic’s torch was visible ahead, unhindered by trunks, so Hagan kept following, confident that he was still on a path rather than struggling through undergrowth. The further they went, the steeper the ground became and the denser the gloom of the forest. Hagan’s breath began to get ragged once more and he knew he would soon have to stop for a rest.
He noticed that up ahead Gunderic’s torch had stopped moving. Grateful for the reprieve, however short it turned out to be, Hagan stopped jogging and stood, hands on hips, trying to regain control of his breath once more.
Then he heard voices.
They were coming through the trees from his right, along with the sound of the feet of many men moving through the undergrowth, snapping dry branches and twigs.
Then the blast of a horn came through the trees. It was the unmistakable note of a hunting horn and it sent a thrill of terror through Hagan’s heart.
Zerco’s words swam into Hagan’s mind: Wodnas takes them into the forest by night. A hunt takes place. Except they don’t hunt animals. They hunt people.