Einar awoke from troubled dreams to find himself in his worst nightmare.
Affreca stood above him, her face set in a tense expression.
‘The sail’s down,’ she shouted over the howling wind and roaring sea. ‘We all must row.’
Affreca was already gone as Einar pulled up the hood of his sealskin jerkin, then dragged himself to his feet to leave the shelter. The others were all gone. The deck rolled one way then the other as the ship crested a huge wave, making him stagger back then forwards a couple of steps. Even with the rolling of the waves, he could tell something else was wrong. The ship was tilted too much to one side.
He threw back the flap of the leather cover and saw that day had dawned. The sky was light and the sea, which had been rough before he went to sleep, was now a maelstrom. Sleet lashed down from wolf-grey clouds while the gale shrieked like the valkyries screaming for the dead. The ship rolled at an alarming pitch.
The situation was worse than he thought. The heavy woollen sail, a large tear across it, was loose and flailing wildly in the gale, trailing its snapped ropes behind it. It was only a matter of time before the wind ripped it from the mast.
‘Row you lazy dogs or she’ll go down!’ Ulrich shouted from the stern. The little Viking clung to the steering tiller with all his strength as another huge wave dumped freezing water over the stern of the ship, gushing over the strakes and sloshing across the deck.
The ship surged on another wave. Einar struggled across the rolling deck towards the rowing benches. The rest of the crew, Skarphedin, Affreca, Sigurd, Atli, Kari, Bodvar and Starkad, were already at their oars, their shoulders and backs straining. Einar could see it was in vain. The Wolf Coats were some of the fittest, strongest men he had ever met but there was just not enough of them to influence the course of the ship against the raging sea and the driving wind. With a chill of terror, he realised the snekkja was at the mercy of the elements, elements that cared nothing for foolish men who thought they could ignore their power.
‘Where’s Gizur?’ Einar shouted as he took a seat on the rowing bench beside Skar and realised the crew had one man missing.
‘Gone,’ Skar yelled back. ‘I woke up to change shifts with him and there was no sign of him. The ship was listing, the sail was free and she’d sprung a leak. Must have hit a rock somewhere. My guess is that a wave washed him overboard. Poor bastard. Rán will have him by now. I don’t know how long we’ve been drifting but we’re far too close to the shore.’
Einar’s ears caught an unusual sound. Among the howling wind, the spattering of the hail and rain and the roaring of the sea, there came a strange, rhythmic booming followed by a hissing sound.
The ship crested another wave and through the murk of the storm he saw a dark outline up ahead. Einar realised that the sound he heard was waves crashing on a shore.
‘We’re nearly there, lads,’ Skar yelled. ‘If we can make to shore without hitting the rocks, we’ll be safe. Put your backs into it!’
As Einar strained at his oar he glanced over his shoulder. Beyond the white foam of the churning ocean he glimpsed what looked like a shale beach and black rocks. Beyond that was dark green land. To his relief it looked like they were indeed not too far away. He redoubled his efforts on the oar, well aware of their futility in relation to the power of the sea, but at the same time determined that if there was some small chance to influence their fate, he would not waste it.
Ulrich battled the tide to steer the ship but in reality, they all knew now that they were going whichever way the waves wanted to carry them. Einar said a silent prayer to Thor that they would get there. Glancing at the others on the oars around him, he saw their lips were also moving as they too muttered prayers. Skar was less discrete.
‘Odin, you one-eyed old bastard,’ the big Prow Man of the company shouted into the wind and rain. His words carried the irreverent familiarity of a long-time servant. ‘We’ve been faithful to you for all those years. Don’t turn on us now!’
The ship once again rose on the swell of another huge wave, then dropped suddenly down the other side.
The ship stopped dead. There came a dreadful thud followed by the crack of splintering wood. The men at the oars were sent sprawling in every direction. Before Einar's horrified gaze a massive black rock exploded up through the deck between him and the mast.
The wave had smashed the ship down onto a hidden rock. They were lost.