THEY MOVED THROUGH the long grass. Hagan was confident that for the first half of the journey there was no need for caution. When they got past the midpoint to the Hun encampment however, they slowed down. The Huns would have advance guards, pickets and scouts out in the fields in case anyone tried to sneak up on the camp in the night, just as Hagan and the others were trying to do now. Hagan had no desire to stumble over armed warriors in the dark so he led the others in cautious, creeping steps, careful to make as little noise as possible. The closer they got to the camp the lower they dipped, moving crouched over in case their outlines became visible above the grass. Twice Hagan detected warriors not far off. The first one gave himself away by a cough while the second was whistling to himself. On both occasions they changed direction and moved off, silent and careful, giving the warriors a wide berth lest they detect their own presence.
When they got closer Hagan saw that the Huns had drawn their wagons into a large semi-circle around their camp, forming a perimeter every bit as effective as an embankment. Torches and braziers had been set a little way out from the wagons to create a lit space where anyone coming from the fields could be spotted approaching. Warriors walked back and forth at intervals along the illuminated area. Behind the wagons fires blazed and he could make out glimpses of tents and moving figures. There was the sound of voices, some laughter and some high-pitched shrieks. Through it all came the noise of wild drumming, flutes and horns.
‘It sounds like they are having a party,’ Hagan said in a whisper.
‘Excellent,’ Wodnas said. ‘This is exactly what I had hoped for. I will go no further. I am an old man and might hinder you if I continue to accompany you. Freya knows what to do once you are in there.’
Hagan nodded. The next part of the journey – getting through the well-lit perimeter – would be the most difficult. While the old man padding along in his bare feet was silent as one of Freya’s cats, it would still be easier to get two people rather than three into the camp. However he was not ready to go along with the plan without knowing more about it.
‘I want to know what I’m getting myself into,’ Hagan said. ‘If I’m walking into certain death I want to do it with my eyes open. What is Freya going to do? If you think she can kill Attila and get away alive you’re madder than you look.’
‘Nothing so drastic, my friend,’ Wodnas said with a little chuckle. ‘I will leave suicidal bravery to your friends in the Berh Herjass. Attila is consulting hellrūnes and other witches. He has sent word all over the north for tribes to send him their best. It is well known that Attila is a superstitious man – otherwise why is he so obsessed with the Sword Tyrfing? Freya here is one of our own witches. I want her to deliver a message to him that will worry him further. A shaken leader can act rashly, or make mistakes. He might hesitate to send his warriors into action at a crucial moment or send them in too early. Perhaps we can provoke Attila to do something that makes our victory more certain.’
Hagan nodded. It was a very good idea, if rather dangerous.
‘Sometimes, my friend, you can fight without actually fighting. Good luck,’ Wodnas said, and disappeared back into the darkness.
Hagan looked at Freya. Her dazzling eyes reflected the nearby firelight and to his amazement she smiled. Did she not realise what danger they were in? If they made a noise or were spotted creeping up on the camp it would mean certain death yet she did not seem the slightest bit concerned.
She presented her hand as if accepting an offer to dance. Hagan took it and led her forwards towards the pool of light outside the Hun camp. Despite the peril they were both in he found the touch of her skin exhilarating and he could smell her scent on the warm night air. The effect of being this close to her was intoxicating. For a brief moment he felt like he might lose all control, grab the beautiful young woman and pull her close to him, pressing his lips onto hers and his body against her lithe one. Then he remembered that in a dark field outside an enemy encampment there were more important matters to attend to.
When nearly at the edge of the torchlight, Hagan stopped and crouched down, pulling Freya down with him. For a few moments they watched the men guarding the space between the wagons and the darkness of the fields. Hagan reckoned they stood about thirty paces apart. There was no way into the camp here. Even if he could distract some of them, others would catch sight of him and Freya as they dashed across the open ground. Even if the ones outside did not, there were bound to be more watching from behind the wagons.
With a motion of his head he gestured to Freya that they should move on. Crouching low and staying in the dark beyond the arch of the firelight, they hurried around the camp, following the perimeter of wagons in its large semi-circular path. After some time they came to one end of it and found that Attila had made his camp against a river. That made sense. Both horses and men needed to drink and the flowing water would provide some protection from any attack from the rear.
It also gave Hagan a way to get into the encampment.
The row of wagons ran all the way to the river’s edge but stopped there. Hagan and Freya followed the river upstream a little further.
‘We need to get in,’ he said in a low voice. ‘Then drift downstream into the camp.’
‘I can’t do it in my robes,’ Freya said. ‘They will soak up the water and pull me under.’
Hagan realised she was right. The same would apply to his heavy wool cloak.
‘We’ll have to—’ he started to say but Freya, her enigmatic smile on her lips, was already stripping off.
‘We need to hurry,’ she said. ‘I don’t want to miss the ceremony.’
Wondering what she was talking about, Hagan took his own clothes off. They tied their clothes into bundles then slipped into the water and pushed out to the middle of the stream. Despite the warmth of the summer night the water was chill and Hagan realised they could not stay in it too long. Nor could they swim, as the splashing would be heard by those in the Hun camp. All they could do was hope the current carried them downriver as swiftly as possible.
They drifted, making the occasional kick or arm movement under the surface to keep them going in the right direction. After a time they reached the end of the half-ring of wagons that marked the edge of the camp. Inside it the camp was a blaze of light and noise.
Hagan nodded to Freya and they both kicked as gently as they could towards the riverbank. If they continued to float downstream someone was bound to spot them. They crawled up the bank and rolled under the nearest parked wagon. Under there they scrambled to pull their damp clothes back on without making too much noise.
‘We need to find Attila,’ Freya said in a hissed whisper.
‘The best thing to do is act like we are supposed to be here,’ said Hagan. ‘If we walk around with confidence then no one will suspect we are from the enemy.’
Freya arched an eyebrow but nodded.
‘Very well,’ she said. ‘Let’s go.’
They rolled out from under the wagon and stood up. Both were brushing dust and grass off themselves when a voice called out in a tongue Hagan did not understand.
He turned around and saw a Hun warrior striding towards him. He had a spear in one hand, pointed at him and Freya.