Wolfspell Page 10

  Oddo pushed away Thora’s hand and scrambled to his feet. For a moment, everything swayed, and he clutched a tree branch to steady himself. Then his head cleared, and there was Thora standing in front of him, arms crossed, and scowling.

  ‘We’ve got to hurry!’ Oddo exclaimed. He set off at a fast hobble, then realised Thora wasn’t following. He swung round, agitated. ‘Come on. If we run, I can get home in time to stop Grimmr!’

  But as he saw her shake her head, he remembered the missing silver.

  ‘Oddo.’ Her voice was hoarse. ‘I’ve got to go back. I’ve got to find the pouch.’

  Oddo clenched his fists in panic.

  ‘No!’ he cried. ‘I have to get home. I have to.’

  The words screamed in his head. If he wanted to save the farm he had to go right now!

  ‘And I have to go back,’ said Thora quietly.

  Oddo stared at her in despair.

  ‘But . . . I can’t go back!’ he wailed.

  ‘I know,’ said Thora. ‘It’s all right. Don’t worry. You go home. I can manage on my own. It can’t be very far. I must have lost my pouch when we climbed out that window.’

  ‘But that’s a full day’s walk away!’ cried Oddo.

  He didn’t know what to do. If he turned back with Thora he’d give up all hope of saving the farm, but if he went on, he’d be abandoning his friend.

  He gazed at her in agony.

  ‘I’ll be fine,’ said Thora. ‘Really. Look.’ She opened her fist and showed him a runestone. ‘I found this in my basket. It’s a good-luck rune Father made for you, to help at the Thing. I never got the chance to give it to you, and then I forgot about it . . . Anyway, if you let me take Hairydog, I’m sure she’ll look after me.’ She smiled down at the dog.

  ‘Yes,’ said Oddo, pouncing on the idea.‘She can help you find the pouch! And here.’ He pulled the dagger from his belt. ‘Take this.’

  ‘Don’t be silly. I won’t need it.’

  Oddo glared. He limped forward and pushed it into her hand. ‘I can’t let you go alone if you don’t take it,’ he said.

  Thora pursed her lips and looked down at his leg.

  ‘Oh, all right. Now, get home as fast as you can,’ she ordered. ‘And remember, no lighting fires! Stay at my house tonight.’

  ‘But your family!’ Oddo exclaimed. ‘What will they say when I turn up without you?’

  ‘Just tell them I wanted to do something more, and I’ll be home soon.’

  ‘I could send one of your brothers to help you . . .’

  ‘No!’ cried Thora fiercely. ‘I don’t want them thinking I can’t manage. This is the first time they’ve depended on me instead of on their magic, and I’m not going to fail them!’

  Oddo bounded down the track, ignoring his sore leg. Out of the corner of his eye he caught sight of familiar landmarks flashing past: neighbouring farms, a broken boat, a lonely old elm tree. But where was Grimmr?

  ‘I’ve been too slow!’ thought Oddo in panic. ‘He’s going to beat me!’

  He forced himself to run faster. He was almost tripping with every step. His leg was burning. At last, on the other side of the river, the fields that led to his own home came into view. He stopped, and gazed up at the bare earth. In a few weeks he’d be toiling those slopes, weeding and planting.

  Or would he? Maybe they’d belong to Grimmr!

  ‘No!’ he exclaimed.‘That ogre isn’t going to win. He can’t be far ahead of me. He can’t have lit a fire yet!’

  Ulf’s wife was washing clothes on the river bank. At the sound of Oddo’s voice, she looked up and beamed a welcome.

  ‘I’ll come and fetch you,’ she called. She untied a boat drawn up among the reeds and rowed towards him.

  ‘Is Grimmr back?’ asked Oddo anxiously, as he hopped on board.

  ‘Hmmph, that he is. More’s the pity.’

  Oddo’s heart sank. He sprang out of the boat almost before it reached the bank, and with a breathless ‘Thank you’, set off up the slope.

  As he ran, his eyes raked the fields for any sign of trouble. He crested the hill, heart thudding wildly, but the sight of his home standing as he’d left it, with no wisp of grey rising from the smoke-hole, brought a sigh of relief.

  Then he noticed a goat standing on the roof of the barn tugging at the turf. Another goat was scratching its back against the wall, and another . . . Oddo looked round in astonishment. There seemed to be goats everywhere!

  ‘But we don’t own any goats,’ he thought, puzzled. ‘Where did they come from?’

  Scratching his head, he moved towards the barn.

  Just before the entrance, he stopped and drew a breath. What was he going to find inside? Would the cows and sheep be all right? With his heart in his mouth, he took another step and peered over the low door.

  Two healthy cows glanced up from their contented chewing and lowed a greeting. The sheep scrambled to their feet and rushed towards him, jostling and bleating. With a huge grin, Oddo reached over and rubbed the nearest curly head. He took in the brimming feed troughs, the floor swept clean of dung, the glossy coats of the cows, and the fluffy, combed fleeces of the sheep.

  ‘Thank you, Little Folk,’ he breathed. ‘Thank you.’

  Footsteps thudded on the cobblestones behind him.

  Oddo spun round.

  ‘You conniving, cheating cowpat!’

  Grimmr was pounding across the yard, brandishing a long stick and bellowing in anger.

  26

  Willow-bark brew

  ‘You cheat!’ repeated Grimmr. ‘You measly maggot!’ He reached Oddo, and shook the stick under his nose. ‘Thought you’d get away with it, hey? Thought I wouldn’t know it was you opened my barn door and let out my goats?’

  He thrust his boggling eyes in Oddo’s face, then turned and chased after his livestock.

  Oddo leaned against the barn wall, shaking. But at the sight of Grimmr galumphing round the fields, goats skittering away from him in all directions, he began to chuckle with relief.

  ‘Grimmr can’t go lighting fires and spoiling my ceremony while he’s chasing his precious goats!’

  He turned back to the barn and peered around, hoping to catch sight of one of the Little Folk.

  ‘Was that your doing?’ he whispered. ‘Did you let Grimmr’s goats out?’

  As usual, there was no answer.

  Oddo sighed, and turned back to the house. Maybe he’d find the Little Folk in there.

  As he crossed the yard, he saw Grimmr dive on a squirming goat, pick it up and dump it over the fence. The goat gave a mischievous hop and skip and headed straight for a gap in the stones – the gap Grimmr had made when he tried to move the boundary.

  ‘Ha,’ thought Oddo. ‘Serves you right!’

  As the goat bounded past, Oddo had an idea.

  ‘Hey, psst!’The animal clattered to a stop. ‘Why don’t you head for the mountains?’ he suggested. ‘There’ll be lots of tasty young grass up there. And tell all your friends,’ he added, as the goat trotted away.

  Oddo reached the house and tiptoed along the passageway. Maybe if he was quiet enough he could take the Little Folk by surprise. He swept the door hangings aside . . .

  He’d forgotten how dark it would be indoors. With no lamps or hearthfire, and no windows like Gyda had, the only light in the room was the little patch of sunshine falling through the doorway. Oddo fancied he heard a tiny scuffling sound at the far end of the room, but when he peered at it hopefully, all he could see was shadows.

  He lifted the water bucket standing near the door and wrinkled his nose. A layer of scum and dead insects floated on top. Oddo used it to prop open the door hangings and stepped into the gloom. The house didn’t feel like home. It was cold and dark and smelt of dead ash and rat droppings. The fur blankets looked strange, all heaped up in a pile ready for the Sheriff. There was no welcoming fire, no scent of cooking. No Bolverk, Sigrid or Hairydog. Not even a sign of the Little Folk. Oddo hurried back to the ent
rance and squatted in the pool of sunshine next to the tiny table he’d made. It was emptied of every crumb of food. All that lay on it now was a pebble.

  Oddo picked up the little stone and twisted it in his fingers. Then he stopped, and stared. Scratched upon the surface, so tiny it was almost invisible, was a mark that looked like a rune.

  Oddo felt his heart beating fast. Was it a good rune or a bad rune? Had the Little Folk cast an evil spell on him, or on the house? Were they angry with him for making them do the farmwork?

  Oddo scrambled to his feet.

  ‘Runolf will know,’ he thought. ‘I’ll ask Runolf.’

  He rushed out of the room, then skidded to a halt.

  A procession was climbing the slope from the river: the Thingmen arriving for the land-taking ceremony!

  And puffing along behind them was a tubby man in a flowing, fur-trimmed cloak. Oddo gasped as he recognised the unwelcome figure of the King’s Sheriff.

  ‘He’s come to collect the taxes,’ thought Oddo in dismay. ‘And Thora isn’t home yet!’

  One of Thora’s younger brothers was playing on the turf roof when Oddo panted into view. Harald yelled the news down the smoke-hole, and the rest of the family poured out the door to greet him.

  ‘Where’s Thora?’ they called.

  Oddo tried to smile.

  ‘She’s coming soon!’ he answered. But he knew now it wouldn’t be soon enough! He couldn’t meet their eager, questioning eyes. ‘She said to tell you she just wanted to do something more, and she’ll be home in a couple of days with a big bag of silver.’

  To his own ears, his cheeriness sounded false, but they all nodded and smiled. ‘Good old Thora.’

  Only the big sister, the one called Astrid, looked at him with narrowed eyes. She crossed her arms.

  ‘I bet she hasn’t got any silver yet,’ she hissed in his ear. ‘That’s why she didn’t come back with you, isn’t it?’

  Oddo ignored her and held out his runestone to Runolf.

  ‘Sir,’ he said. ‘Could you please tell me what this rune is?’

  Raising his eyebrows, Runolf held out his hand. His brows shot even higher at the sight of the little pebble Oddo dropped into his palm.

  ‘How on earth did you come by this?’ Runolf exclaimed. ‘It’s a rune carved by the Little Folk – the most powerful runemakers of all!’

  Oddo bit his lip. ‘And what does it do?’ he asked.

  ‘Why,’ said Runolf. ‘This is a rune of protection – it protects your home and land.’

  Oddo almost collapsed with relief. He could feel his whole body begin to shake as he turned to go home.

  ‘Wait a pickled herring!’ cackled Granny Hulda. ‘What have you done to your leg, young laddie?’

  Oddo was startled. In all the excitement, he’d forgotten about his leg. He looked down.

  ‘I . . . it’s injured,’ he said.

  ‘Then take yourself inside and let’s have a peek at it,’ said Granny.

  The whole family hustled him towards the house. In a moment he was seated on a bench by the firepit, luxuriating in its comforting warmth. Suddenly he felt weak and shivery, and he realised his leg was hurting badly. He was vaguely aware of someone untying his scruffy, makeshift bandage and pouring warm water over his leg. The wound stung, but it was good to feel the dirt and blood washing away. Granny Hulda slapped on a hot, odorous poultice, and handed him a steaming brew.

  ‘Drink it,’ she snapped. ‘Willow bark. It’ll take away your pain.’

  Oddo took a sip and pulled a face. It had a horrid, bitter flavour. But Granny watched him, hands on hips, making sure he emptied the cup.

  ‘I’d better go home now,’ he said, attempting to get to his feet. He had to find out what was happening with the King’s Sheriff. Maybe he could find a way to delay him till Thora arrived.

  ‘I . . .’ He tried to think of an excuse for leaving.‘I’ve got to see if the animals are all right.’

  He felt a hand patting his shoulder and turned to find Ketil regarding him with wide blue eyes. The little boy drew Oddo’s head towards his own.

  ‘Your animals are fine,’ he whispered, his warm breath tickling Oddo’s ear. ‘Thora said that someone special was looking after them, but she told me to check on them anyway.’

  Oddo stared at him, and gulped.

  Thora, Thora, always looking after other people.

  ‘She’s out there now searching for the silver so she can save her family,’ he thought. He pictured her traipsing along that cold, lonely path, with no fire, no food, and only Hairydog for company – and no idea that all her struggles were going to be in vain. His heart turned over at the thought of her coming back and finding her family thrown out of their home.

  27

  Thora and Hairydog

  Thora watched till Oddo was out of sight. Then she turned and straightened her shoulders.

  ‘Come on, Hairydog,’ she called.

  But the dog ignored her, scampering down to the water for a drink. She nosed around the bank and opened her jaws to snap at something.

  ‘Food!’ thought Thora.‘When was the last time I had something to eat?!’

  She ripped up a handful of dandelion stalks and crammed them into her mouth, swallowing the leaves and flower buds and spitting out the bitter stems. When all the flowers were gone, she knelt down and hacked out their roots, wishing she had a fire to cook them on. Dandelion roots were nice boiled, but raw? She edged down the slippery bank and knelt to rinse one in the river, feeling the strong pull of the current and noticing the height of the water, swollen by the melting snow. She took a nibble of the root and screwed up her nose.

  ‘When I get home,’ she promised herself, ‘I’ll cook pots and pots of yummy, hot food.’ At the thought of home, she imagined her family waiting for her to walk in the door with a bag of silver. ‘I’d better hurry!’ she thought.

  She leapt to her feet, forgetting caution, and a moment later she was sliding and bumping down the bank. Before she could even gasp for breath, she plunged into the cold, rushing water.

  28

  Taxes for the King

  Oddo blinked. He was lying on a hard wooden bench in the house-over-the-hill. That willow-bark brew must have sent him to sleep as well as relieving his pain. He sat up in a fluster. How long had he been here?

  Before he could get to his feet, he heard a voice yelling from above, and Harald’s head popped down through the smoke-hole.

  ‘Hey, everyone!’ warned Harald. ‘Look out!’

  Next moment the King’s Sheriff and his henchmen strode into the room.

  ‘We are here to collect the taxes for King Harald the Fairhair, King of all Norway!’ announced the Sheriff.

  Runolf, calm and majestic, moved forward and inclined his head.

  ‘We beg your indulgence, good sir,’ he said. ‘My daughter is at this moment returning from a quest for silver . . .’

  ‘Don’t make excuses!’ roared the Sheriff. ‘You’ve had time enough to collect your payment. I can’t wait for every peasant to laze round upon his bed hoping for silver to drop out of the sky!’ His face was flushed and sweaty.

  Runolf drew himself up straight.

  ‘Sir,’ he said, ‘you can accept my word . . .’

  ‘Well, I don’t,’ said the Sheriff.‘I don’t accept anything except taxes. Men!’ He turned to his henchmen. They leaned forward, twitching like hunting dogs. ‘Search this house,’ he ordered. ‘Seize anything of value.’

  A pointy-nosed man sprang forward and snatched Finnhilda’s keys from her belt. Smirking insolently, he bent to open a clothes chest. Granny Hulda sprang at him, the rod she used for spinning clenched in her fist. In a volley of angry squeaks, she walloped the pointy-nosed man on his bottom. He spun round, clutching the seat of his breeches.

  Another man began to sidle along the wall in the direction of Runolf’s tool chest, but tiny Sissa, reaching it first, clapped her pudgy fingers on the lid. Oddo laughed at the man’s astonishe
d expression as he reached the chest and found the keyhole disappearing under a flurry of leaves and flowers.

  The Sheriff, his face now purple, pointed at Thora’s older brother, Arni.

  ‘Get that able-bodied lad!’ he yelled.

  Three henchmen turned to look at Arni. Derisive expressions flickered across their faces as they took in his scrawny frame. They rolled up their sleeves and strutted towards him.

  Oddo held his breath and watched with glee as Ketil drew on his goatskin hood. The next moment one of the henchmen was crying out with fright and hopping around the room, trying to beat off a very small but invisible attacker.

  Meanwhile, little Harald dropped through the smoke-hole onto a rafter. He swung himself along, and pounced, with a bloodcurdling yell, on the second man’s head.

  There was one assailant left. Arni picked up a runestone and twirled it nonchalantly in his fingers. The unsuspecting man reached out to grab his arm. With a gloating smile, Arni flicked his wrist. The henchman flew across the room, hit the wall with a thud, and slithered to the ground.

  ‘Jumping jellyfish!’ chuckled Oddo.‘I wouldn’t mind one of those runestones!’

  Then the Sheriff drew his sword, and Oddo’s smile vanished.

  ‘Enough buffoonery!’ snarled the Sheriff. ‘Surrender your possessions this instant or I’ll burn your house around your ears, I’ll . . .’

  At that moment, there was a sharp yelp and a creature with wet fur, spiky as pine needles, burst into the room.

  Oddo leapt from his seat.

  ‘Hairydog!’ he cried.

  The next instant the door hangings flew apart again, and a bedraggled, muddy figure appeared in the doorway.

  ‘Thora!’

  Thora danced into the room, brandishing a gold chain and a jewelled goblet, then stopped at the chaos that met her eyes.

  One man, looking and sounding like a dying sheep, was racing round in circles, tufts of wool hanging off his clothes, while Granny Hulda scuttled after him, whacking him with her distaff rod. Another man was on one leg, hopping all over the room, brandishing a dagger, and apparently trying to cut off his own foot. Someone else was huddled on the floor, holding his head and wailing, while Arni stood flexing his muscles and calling taunts to another man cowering in a corner. The King’s Sheriff was in the middle of it all, eyes bulging, sword raised, looking as though he was about to explode.