Einar looked on in shock. Ayvind was right. The rest of them had all been stripped of their weapons in Cathair Aile.
‘What are you going to do?’ Ulrich said. ‘Kill all ten of us? Sail the ship yourself?’
‘If I have to, yes,’ Ayvind said. ‘Don’t tempt me. Skipper?’ He shouted to Roan who still stood at the steering oar. ‘We have a change of plan. Set a course for Nidros.’
‘Now why would you want to go to northern Norway?’ Ulrich said. ‘Unless you want to meet with the rebel jarls up there? Is that it? Does this all have something to do with Jarl Sigurd? Maybe Olaf Haraldsson?’
Ayvind laughed. ‘Don’t you realise what’s happening even now, Ulrich? You’re supposed to be so clever, but we’ve played you like a fidla every step of the way.’
‘Who’s this we?’ Ulrich said.
‘Can’t you guess?’ Ayvind said. He held the sword blade level, point directed at Ulrich.
Bodvar, on Ulrich’s right, took a step forward. Ayvind saw the move and swept the blade in his direction.
‘Back!’ he snarled. Bodvar retreated. Ayvind returned the sword to pointing at Ulrich.
‘Do I have to carve it out in runes for you, Ulrich?’ Ayvind said. ‘You’ve been a mere pawn in the game my master is playing.’
Ulrich, seemingly oblivious to the sword point that hovered a finger’s breadth away from his face, scratched his chin as if thinking.
‘Let’s see,’ he said. ‘The only reason I can think of that someone would want King Eirik to get a fake banner would be if that person wanted to deceive him in some way.’
‘Very good,’ Ayvind said. The broad grin on his face suggested he was enjoying himself. ‘Maybe you’re not as stupid as you look after all. My lord Hakon has the real banner. Didn’t you wonder where he and more than half of Aethelstan’s fleet had gone?’
‘Let me guess,’ Ulrich said, his face darkening. ‘Nidros?’
Ayvind’s grin got wider. ‘Nidros. Eirik has lost the support of the jarls in the north. Some in the south too. They asked Hakon to return and replace him as rightful king. He is a son of Harold just like Eirik.’
‘Are you trying to tell me that boy dreamed all this up?’ Ulrich said. ‘He may be Harald Fairhair’s son but he’s only fifteen winters old!’
‘Aethelstan!’ Skar said. ‘He’s behind this. He has to be. The whole invasion of Scotland. It’s—’
‘A distraction?’ Ayvind nodded. ‘In part. More a case of Aethelstan killing two birds with one stone. He has just cause to go to war with Constantine but it also provides a great cover for Hakon to slip across the North Sea. Eirik suspects nothing. If someone had reported ships sailing north, he would assume they are part of the attack on Scotland. By now it’s too late. Hakon will be in Nidros, raising the real Raven Banner. The people will flock to his cause.’
‘And Aethelstan will have his own lapdog on the throne of Norway,’ Ulrich said.
‘You despicable traitor, Ayvind,’ Einar said, his upper lip curled.
‘Me?’ Ayvind said. ‘You’ve played a big part in all this, Einar. Back in Jorvik after the girl’s first ridiculous attempt to steal the banner, Aethelstan ordered me to find out more about you, where you were staying and the like. He knew then his enemies were seeking the banner.’
‘So you weren’t really trying to help me out when you turned up at my inn?’ Gorm said.
‘Do you think a royal skald like me would really stoop to performing in a stinking hovel like that?’ Ayvind said. He sniffed. ‘We could not believe our luck when who walks in the door next but a crew of Eirik Bloody Axe’s Úlfhéðnar, looking for Einar, the girl and the banner. Aethelstan and Hakon sent me to make sure you found your way back to where the banner was.’
‘But we could have been killed at Cathair Aile,’ Einar said. ‘What use would that have been?’
‘Could have? The plan was that you would be killed,’ Ayvind said. ‘That’s why they let Gizur, Narfi and Bjorn escape during the battle. They were allowed to steal a ship and sailed back to Norway.’
Einar remembered standing above the gate of Cathair Aile, seeing the figures running towards the harbour.
‘They left before the rest of the fleet came,’ he said. ‘They wouldn’t have known Hakon’s ships didn’t arrive at Cathair Aile but sailed on out to sea.’
‘And Gizur, Narfi and Bjorn took the news to Eirik that Hakon is busy attacking Scotland,’ Ayvind said. ‘When you survived, Aethelstan and Siward realised they could use you further. One more trick to play on Eirik. I would go with you again, lead you by the nose, and give a fake banner to Eirik. When Hakon lets everyone know that Eirik does not have the real Raven Banner and he does, what man will be prepared to follow Bloody Axe? That won’t happen now thanks to this nosey bitch, but I think we’ve done enough anyway.’
Einar’s mind raced through everything since Ayvind had jumped into the sea beside him at the skerries off Ireland. The skald was right. They had been fools to trust him. Most of all himself. It was so out of character for the Ayvind he had known to do such a thing. Then there was the time in Edin Burh. Ayvind had disappeared when they went to be baptised. He must have gone to tell Hakon they were there. Again in Cathair Aile, he had been nowhere to be found since the start of the battle until they had seen him running to join Roan’s ship as it left the harbour. How had he been so blind?
‘Did our friendship mean nothing?’ Einar said. His voice was hoarse.
‘Friendship?’ Ayvind raised his eyebrows. Then his eyes looked sad. ‘Perhaps, if you hadn’t been so good a poet, it might have counted for something. But I was your teacher, Einar. I’m a famous skald who has performed at the courts of kings and jarls all over the world. Yet you are better than me. Do you know what that feels like? Of course not. Because you’ve never met anyone you weren’t better than. But it was something I could not abide.’
‘So now what?’ Ulrich said.
‘We sail for Nidros and meet with Hakon and the jarls of the north,’ Ayvind said.
‘You think we’ll just let you do that?’ Ulrich said.
For a long moment there was silence as Ayvind glared at Ulrich.
‘Your men will do what they’re told to when their leader is dead,’ Ayvind said.
He lunged forward, driving the sword at Ulrich’s face. He moved fast, but Ulrich had spent most of the last twenty winters of his life either practising to avoid such blows or avoiding them for real. Ayvind had spent the same time chanting poetry and drinking. Ulrich stepped sideways and the blade shot past his head, missing Ulrich’s ear by a hair’s breadth but doing no damage.
The other Wolf Coats surged forwards. Ayvind cried out and swept his sword to the right in a panic. Gorm was coming at him, hands outstretched. The end of the skald’s blade caught Gorm just behind his right ear. It sheared through his neck, opening a fearsome slash right across his throat. Bright blood erupted from the wound, spraying over Einar, Ayvind and Skar. Gorm’s mouth worked frantically without producing a sound as he crashed down to his knees then pitched forwards onto his face, his life blood gushing across the deck in a dark torrent.
Bodvar grabbed Ayvind’s sword hand and twisted the hilt. There was the loud cracking of bones as Bodvar wrenched the weapon from his grasp. Ayvind gasped with pain. Skar laid his right hand on Ayvind’s right shoulder and his left at the skald’s waist. Then he lifted Ayvind and pitched him backwards over the side.
The skald’s cry was cut short by the huge splash as he hit the water and went under. He came up again but by that time the ship had already moved on and Ayvind was in its wake.
‘Help me,’ he cried, waving one hand in the air as he beat with his other arm and legs to keep his head above the water.
‘You can fucking walk the rest of the way to Nidros, Ayvind,’ Ulrich shouted from the ship. He turned around and looked at Einar.
‘It seems this crew has need of new poet,’ he said. ‘Congratulations. You’ve got the job.’
Einar looked around. There was nothing but grey water as far as the eye could see. No land, no ships and nothing Ayvind could hope for salvation from. Somewhere deep below, Rán was pulling open the neck of her net. He swallowed at the thought of the cold, lonely death that would be Ayvind’s fate.
He crouched beside Gorm but the innkeeper was already dead. His face bore an odd expression that seemed to be a mixture of frustration and rage, frozen now forever on his features by death. Shaking his head, Einar closed his friend’s eyes and stood up. He tried to ignore the plaintive cries from the sea that were now fading into the distance behind the ship.
‘Lucky for us you knew about that embroidery,’ Ulrich said to Affreca.
‘What embroidery?’ Affreca said, a smile playing on her lips.
‘You made that up?’ Einar said.
‘I suspected there was something fake about it,’ Affreca said. ‘But I didn’t know. I saw it as a child and it sent an odd chill through me. I didn’t get the same feeling when I saw it again. But I couldn’t prove it, so I made that up to see what he said. Ayvind didn’t know I was bluffing.’
Ulrich threw back his head and laughed. He patted Affreca on the shoulder.
‘Like I said, Skar,’ he turned to his Prow Man. ‘This one has potential. Now come on. Hakon has joined the rebels. King Eirik needs us more than ever.’