The Viking Saga Read online

  Harald saw immediately that it was Radbard whom they had pursued, though he was dressed Moorish fashion, his face half enshrouded by a hood, his waist encircled by a broad black sash.

  They came beside him and touched him on the shoulder. He turned to them a face contorted with horror, and pointed to the body on the floor. They bent over the man, and saw that it was Clothair. He was dead. A dagger had been driven into his back, between the joints of his body armour. Harald bent and looked at the weapon; it had a long, red-leather hilt.

  Then he looked at the empty scabbard that swung from the black sash at Radbard’s waist. ‘Did you kill Clothair?’ asked Harald, striving to keep the horrified disgust from his voice.

  But Radbard only shook his head, helplessly. ‘He was dead when I stumbled over his body a moment ago. I had no dagger. This robe and scabbard were left for me by Rajik, who showed me how I could escape this night when all the guards were drugged.’

  Haro said grimly, ‘Then friend Rajik has tricked you, Radbard. For now suspicion will fall on you and if they catch you, your end is certain.’

  Radbard said simply, ‘Rajik always hated Clothair, he even told me so. Well, what shall be, shall be; there is nothing more to say.’

  He stood in the glimmer of moonlight like a man in a drugged sleep, hardly able to care for himself.

  It was then that Harald’s sharp ears caught the sound of shuffling footsteps along a far passageway. He signed to the others to be still and said, ‘There are men at the end of that passageway. Where does it lead?’

  Radbard said, ‘That is the way to the treasure chamber. Rajik showed it to me only yesterday.’

  ‘Then that is where we shall find him, and take our vengeance on him,’ said Harald, suddenly angry with a cold and fearsome anger.

  12. The Vengeance of Abu Mazur

  At the corner of the passageway, the three Vikings halted. Before them, in the semi-darkness, a group of figures moved slowly and quietly, as though they were engaged in some arduous task. Harald’s keen eyes picked out five figures, dressed after the manner of the house-guards, and led, it seemed by a small crooked man – Rajik the gardener.

  ‘They are armed,’ he whispered to Haro, ‘for I see the glint of sword blades.’

  ‘One of us carries a weapon, too,’ said Haro ironically, holding out his hand. Harald saw that he had taken the red-hilted dagger which had killed their friend, Clothair.

  It was then that they heard Rajik’s unmistakable voice.

  ‘Go quietly, my comrades,’ he said, ‘for soon we shall come out into the great chamber, and then we may need to have our wits about us!’

  Almost as by instinct, Harald leapt forward, crying, ‘Your wits will not save you now, Rajik the serpent! You have murdered Clothair and tricked our brother, Radbard! Now you would rob your master!’

  There was a frightened cry in the gloom of the passageway, then muffled oaths and words of anger, as the robbers realized that they were assailed not by the guards of the house, but by three slaves.

  There was the sound of boxes being flung to the ground hurriedly, then the Vikings were among the robbers, grappling with them before they could bring their swords into action.

  In the half-darkness, it was impossible for the Vikings to fight with the skill which was theirs by day, but they gave a good account of themselves. Radbard was the first to speak, after the battle had started. His comrades heard him say, ‘And that is for you, Snake Rajik, and for Clothair who was a good friend to us in his way!’

  They heard Rajik’s high voice call out for mercy, and then a groan took the place of his crying and he fell.

  Haro was fighting like a berserk now, holding two men at bay with his long-bladed dagger, and driving them back down the passageway, towards the treasure chamber.

  Harald had grappled his opponent round the waist and was slowly bending him back, when he felt a sharp pain in his side and then knew that he had been wounded and could exert his great strength no longer. ‘To me, Radbard,’ he called hoarsely. ‘I am hurt and cannot hold this one much longer!’

  A great blackness, blacker than the night itself, swept over Harald’s eyes, and as he heard Radbard’s feet shuffling towards him, he fell, unable to hold the enemy at bay any further.

  Radbard reached forward and took Harald’s opponent by the hair of his head and dragged him forward, and even as Radbard struck the man at the nape of the neck with his hard clenched fist, a great light shone on them from the high chamber, and Abu Mazur stood there, surrounded by a dozen guards, the torchlight glinting on their helmets and poised javelins.

  The fight in the passageway ceased, suddenly, as a thunderstorm when the sun breaks out again and the air is still.

  Then, in the great hall, Abu Mazur sat in judgement, the fighters standing or lying before his gilded chair, the guards standing in a circle about them, fierce in the flaring torchlight.

  ‘What has any man to say before I speak?’ the master asked, turning his eagle’s eyes upon them all in turn.

  Rajik, still shaken by the great blow which Radbard had dealt him, flung himself before the gilded chair and held out his hands in supplication.

  ‘Listen to me, master,’ he said. ‘I am your good servant and have always served you faithfully. Tonight I heard strange sounds and came here to find these three Vikings dragging your treasure from its resting-place.’

  Abu Mazur nodded and said, ‘Who are these men who were fighting with the Vikings? I have not seen them before.’

  Rajik said, ‘They are good true men of the town, of Jebel Tarik, old friends of mine. They were drinking with me, as friends do, in my little room that you let me have, in your graciousness of heart.’

  ‘And who killed Clothair?’ asked Abu Mazur, gently, for he had always trusted the Frank and was sad to see him lying dead before him.

  Rajik pointed an accusing finger at Radbard. ‘That one did it. He struck him down with the dagger which lies before you now.’

  Abu regarded him steadily for a moment and then said, ‘The thing which lies before me is called Rajik – for Rajik killed Clothair, and Rajik brought in these murderers to steal his master’s treasure.’

  The gardener began to protest, but Abu Mazur waved him to silence.

  ‘Have no doubts, Rajik, I was well aware that you were plotting against me. After all, I must keep my spies like any other rich merchant in these troubled times. And I know these friends of yours. That one is Rajam the sheep stealer – his father was hanged last year in Africa; that is Bela Tok, who killed a shepherd outside Granada three weeks ago; and the others, who are dead or unconscious, I do not care which, are also known to me.’

  Rajik gazed at him in bewilderment. ‘But, master, you said you had never seen them before.’

  Abu Mazur passed a weary hand over his forehead and said, ‘No, I have not seen them, but my spies bring me accurate descriptions, you dullard. I have eyes in my mind, too, friend Rajik, which is something you have not – nor will you live to have now.’

  At this, Haro, although wounded deeply in the neck, gave a great shout of laughter and clapped the wretched Rajik on the back, almost knocking him flying. ‘There,’ he said, ‘but it takes a big wolf to catch a little wolf! Friend Rajik, you are nicely in the trap now. Let us see you wriggle clear this time!’

  At this the guards would have silenced Haro, but Abu held up his hand, ordering them to let the Viking be.

  Then he addressed them, saying, ‘My rough northern friends, for now I believe you are my friends, I am grateful to you. You shall not find me a forgetful master, and from this time your lives may perhaps be sweeter. Your chieftain, who lies wounded before me, shall have Clothair’s place in my household and you shall help him in his task. Who knows, perhaps one day you may become my guards.’

  Then he gave orders that Harald should be carried carefully to the physician, Malabar el Arrash, who lived in the house, to be treated for the sword-cut which had pierced deeply into his right side.
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br />   As the Vikings rose and followed the guards who carried their friend, they heard the voice of Abu Mazur once more speaking to Rajik and the robbers who had tried to steal the treasure.

  ‘As for you,’ it said, ‘your traitorous eyes shall not see another dawn. You shall die where you stand now, and your fate shall be a lasting warning to any others who think to gain easily by night what I have spent many hard days in getting.’

  Radbard said, ‘He deserves his fate, for he would have brought it upon me, but for your friendship, my brother.’

  After that, they did not mention Rajik, the little gardener-man, again. Nor did they ever walk through that echoing hall where the sentence had been passed.

  13. To Sea Again

  Haro’s neck soon healed, but spring had turned to summer before Harald was well, nor would he have walked again had not the great skill of Malabar el Arrash been devoted to its full on his behalf.

  But now, as the first heavy heat of the summer sun began to beat down, already almost unbearably, on the city of Jebel Tarik, the three Vikings sat once more on the white terrace overlooking the steaming harbour.

  The two others were teasing Harald, for he was wearing his helmet and armour for the first time since he had been appointed to fill Clothair’s position.

  ‘Why did you not let them cut your hair, King Harald?’ asked Radbard, mischievously, for he had now regained something of his old spirits. ‘Your helmet does not fit properly. It was made for a man with short hair.’

  Harald said, ‘No man shall cut my hair, friend Bald-head! I would rather have my own hair than any helmet!’

  This annoyed Radbard, who was going very thin on top, and he immediately began to grapple with Harald, trying to roll him on the ground.

  Then suddenly Haro began to whistle, warning them that someone was coming, but it was too late. Marriba stood behind them, smiling, her leopard cub on a golden chain at her side.

  ‘What a pretty picture, Captain Harald,’ she said, ‘to see a great warrior rolling on the floor like a little boy.’

  Harald looked up sheepishly and then, unable to say anything, took an apple from his leather pouch and flung it into the air. The girl watched it go, wondering, and then saw Harald rise to his feet, pull out his sword with one swift motion, and, as the apple came down at arm’s height, cut it through downwards and then, almost with the same movement, across, so that the fruit fell in four even parts at her feet.

  The look of amazement on the girl’s face was such that the three Vikings burst into a roar of laughter.

  Haro said, ‘He is a show-off, is this Harald, Princess. Look, if he will give me his sword, I will show you one even better than that.’

  Marriba said slyly, ‘You are still a slave, Haro Roughneck. You are not allowed to have a sword, like Harald.’

  Harald said, ‘I am the Captain here, my lady, not you. If I give him a sword, that is my affair.’

  But although he spoke abruptly, it was not through anger, but to cover his embarrassment that a girl should have seen him wrestling like a little boy on the ground. Then he handed his sword to Haro, who took three figs from his pocket and, having disposed them evenly in his left hand, flung them all into the air at once. As they came down in the sunlight, he struck at each one, neatly and quickly, with blows like those which a cat gives to a rolling ball of wool. The three figs lay on the white marble pavement, equally divided. Haro tossed the sword back to Harald, who caught it.

  ‘Not a bad sword,’ said Haro, carelessly, ‘though I like one a little heavier in the blade. That is a lady’s toy.’

  Laughing, the girl turned to Radbard and said, ‘After that is there anything you dare do, Crookleg?’

  Radbard scratched his nose for a while and then said slyly, ‘Yes, but it has nothing to do with swords, my lady.’

  ‘So much the better,’ said the girl, ‘for this cutting and carving becomes tedious after a time. Well, what can you show me?’

  Radbard simply said, ‘This, and no more!’

  He turned suddenly and snatched up a handful of pebbles from the edge of the steps. A large black carrion crow was sitting on the red roof, at the edge of the platform. Swiftly Radbard threw at the bird, which seemed to expect something of the sort and was ready to fly away. The first pebble struck the bird on the body and toppled it down the roof, but it rose again and was almost away when the Viking threw again. This stone brought the bird back to the eaves, fluttering. Radbard raised his hand to throw the third pebble, but Marriba held his arm.

  ‘That is enough, barbarian,’ she said. ‘I do not love those birds, but I will not have you kill one just to show me your skill at throwing pebbles.’

  Radbard shrugged his shoulders, and the bird, glad of the respite, gathered itself and flew away over the house, crying hoarsely.

  ‘All the same,’ said Marriba, when it had gone, ‘I have never seen such marksmanship before in my life. A man like you does not need a sword, Radbard Crookleg, when there are stones about to throw!’

  With that she went away, and Haro watched her go, sighing and holding his hand to his heart. The other two then rolled him on the ground, telling him that he was a dolt and a love-sick clown.

  That afternoon a messenger came to fetch them into the presence of Abu Mazur, who met them with a grave face.

  Radbard whispered, ‘I know what it is, she has reported me for throwing at that bird, and now we are all to be punished.’

  But it was not that at all.

  Abu Mazur allowed them to sit down, a privilege which amazed them, and then said to them slowly, ‘My friends, my dear daughter, Marriba, is not well. Her delicate constitution was not intended by nature for the heavy heat of this city and I am afraid that if she stays with me in the house here through the summer, she may come to harm. My good doctor, Malabar el Arrash, of whose skill you already know a little, tells me that my daughter must go to a more northerly climate, away from this heat, if she is to retain her health and happiness.’

  Radbard said absently, ‘Along the fjords now they will be sailing in their boats with the red and white sails, and already men will have returned to the villages with stores of treasure …’

  Abu Mazur’s sharp eyes silenced him in his dreaming. ‘I do not speak of the far north, my friend,’ he said sternly. ‘That is a place where only bears and wolves live. It is not a place for such a frail flower as Marriba. Remember that.’

  There was a silence then, and Abu Mazur rubbed his chin thoughtfully. At last he spoke to Harald alone, ignoring the others.

  ‘I trust you, Northman, and so does my daughter. In recent weeks I have come to believe that I trust you more than I do any of my servants, of whatever race or quality. If I gave you charge of the fast ship which is to take my daughter to the northern islands, what would you say?’

  Harald fell to his knees on the floor and said earnestly, ‘I should thank you most deeply, Abu Mazur. I can say no more.’

  Abu Mazur said quickly, ‘I should not ask for any more, Northman, except that I should require you all to kneel before me, and putting your hands within mine, swear on your honour that you would obey my daughter in all things and would never question her judgement.’

  The three men kneeled before Abu Mazur and took that oath.

  With a wry smile he said gently, ‘It is my right and my duty to convert men such as you to the true faith, to Allah, but I am not always strict in these matters for even good men vary so much in their beliefs. If you were of my faith, I would ask you to swear on the Beard of the Prophet, perhaps, and that would be binding; but I ask you to swear on your honour as fighting men of the north, and I know that you will not betray me.’

  Haro said swiftly, ‘May Odin’s ravens peck out my heart if I disobey your daughter in anything she commands, be it great or small, for I would willingly die for her.’

  Abu Mazur touched him gently on the shoulder and said, ‘You are a good man, though a fool in many ways, Northman. Take my daughter to her relatives in
the islands, where the air is fresh and sea-borne, and the sun strikes less shrewdly, and when you return with her at the fall of leaf, you shall all be made freedmen, to go or to stay here as you wish.’

  Then he clapped his hands as a sign that the audience was ended and the three Vikings walked down the long arcades, unable to speak for the joy that was in their hearts to be going in a ship once again.

  Marriba watched them from her window grille and smiled, though when her father came into her room to tell her the result of the meeting, she lay back in her bed again and put her hand over her eyes.

  ‘Oh, father,’ she said, ‘the heat is so oppressive. I can hardly stand it. I shall die, I know I shall die.’

  Abu Mazur bent and stroked her head lightly. ‘Patience, my lamb, patience my chicken,’ he said soothingly. ‘In two days from now you will be on the seas with our brave Vikings to look after you. Then your spirits will rise again and you will be my lovely daughter once more.’

  Marriba shrugged petulantly and said, ‘No, I shall not! I shall die, I tell you, father, and then you will be sorry for bringing me here to Jebel Tarik where the wind is as hot as a furnace and the stones burn one to touch them.’

  Her father tiptoed sorrowfully from the room to fetch the physician, but as soon as the door curtain had swung to, Marriba jumped from her bed and ran to the window grille, to see if the Vikings were still in sight.

  But they were not; now they stood looking over the harbour wall at a low and rakish vessel with a triangular sail of red and gold.

  ‘Ten oar ports and a steerboard like one of our own longships,’ said Harald, pointing.

  Haro gazed in silence at the high sharp prow and the bright steel grappling hooks. A great lump had risen in his throat and he was afraid of crying if he tried to answer.

  Suddenly Radbard began to shout and dance and cry, all at the same time. ‘By Odin,’ he said, ‘a ship! A ship! A ship!’

  Then, with the tears streaming down their cheeks, they began to hug each other like clumsy bears.