8

Jo knelt on a hard earth floor.

In front of her stood a huge warrior, his face almost obscured by a thick beard, though his eyes were clear enough to see and burned down at her, making her want to melt into the ground and disappear.

Around them were the men who’d brought her, and around them was a vast dark hall. A fire-pit at its centre sent smoke curling up into the thatch of the roof.

She’d been carried through a village – a series of small huts and some larger houses – and then brought before this man, who was evidently the chief.

‘I,’ announced the man, ‘am Njord.’

Jo understood him perfectly. She knew the telepathic circuits of the TARDIS had a certain range, and, although the Doctor had never said how great that range was, she knew the TARDIS must be close enough for it to make her hear the ancient Norse dialect as English.

Njord stepped a little closer to Jo and began walking round her. Her wrists and ankles were still bound. She longed to stand and give this old goat a piece of her mind, but she knew she’d most likely fall over if she tried, which wasn’t the effect she was after.

Njord grunted in satisfaction. ‘Everything is as Frey said.’

‘Frey?’ asked Jo. ‘Who’s Frey?’

Njord ignored her. He clapped his hands and gave a short laugh that sounded more like a bark. Then he stopped in front of Jo and bent down, putting his face right up close to hers.

Her nose wrinkled.

‘Where is the Healer?’ he said.

‘The who?’ asked Jo.

‘My men say he drowned. He fell in the river. But Frey says not to believe what you see with the Healer.’

‘The Healer? You mean the Doctor?’

‘The Healer, the Doctor. Yes. Is he drowned?’

Jo hung her head. ‘Oh, I hope not,’ she said quietly.

Njord straightened. ‘My men are looking for him. They will find him if he still lives.’

Staring hard at the earth in front of her, Jo fought the urge to weep.

‘You are the Healer’s woman? His wife?’

Jo lifted her head. ‘I am the Doctor’s companion,’ she said proudly, and held Njord’s gaze for as long as she could, until her nerve failed her.

A smile spread slowly over Njord’s face. It was not a nice thing to see. His lips parted and Jo almost winced when she saw his blackened teeth.

He put his boot on Jo’s shoulder and with a shove sent her to the floor, where she lay on her side, wondering how accurate the Doctor’s lecture about peaceful Viking farmers had been.

Njord stared coolly down at her. ‘Today there was almost a fight. Everything is as Frey said it would be. Old One-eye killed one of his own to stop the war from starting. He is scared. He is weak. Full of bluster and noise, yes, but in reality he is weak. And when Skithblathnir returns to our shores with Frey at her helm, carrying more warriors to swell our army, we will go to war with the Aesir. And we will win.’

Jo lay still, trying to understand everything she had heard, knowing it might be important, knowing it would be good to be able to tell the Doctor everything she’d learned. If only he was still alive.

Hands grabbed her again and dragged her out of the hall and through the village. She saw a wagon being pulled by four oxen. On the wagon was the TARDIS.

She was about to yell when someone pulled her back so hard the breath was knocked from her. Before she knew it, she was taken into a small but solid hut, where she was tied to the post that held up the roof, and left to shiver.