“How are you going to get there?” said Hardred. “Swim? Brand won’t take you. Ordlaf daren’t, not on his own.”
“We can’t just sail away,” pleaded Cwicca.
Thorvin’s deep voice broke in. “No. But it is in my mind that we can sail on. Or some of us can. Something tells me that it is not Shef Sigvarthsson’s fate to die silently, or to vanish. Someone may have him for ransom. Or for sale. If we go to a major port, where news is gathered, we will hear something of him. I suggest we go on to Kaupang, some of us.”
“Kaupang,” said Brand. “To the College of the Way.”
“I have reasons of my own for going there, it’s true,” said Thorvin. “But the Way has many followers, and many resources, and the college is deeply concerned about Shef. If we go there we will get help.”
“I won’t,” declared Hardred flatly. “Too far, too risky, hostile waters all the way, and we know now the ‘Counties’ aren’t fit for a deep-sea crossing.” Ordlaf nodded in glum agreement.
“Some go back, some go on,” said Thorvin.
“Most go back, I think,” said Brand. “Forty ships, even fifty ships, aren’t enough to get through all the fleets of Norway and Denmark—the Ragnarssons, King Halvdan, the Hlathir jarls, King Gamli, King Hrorik, and all the others. They’d best turn back, to guard the Way in England. There are plenty who’d be glad to stamp it out.
“I’ll take the Walrus. Go out deep sea, not hug the coast. I’ll get through. I’ll take you, Thorvin, and your fellows, to Kaupang and to the college. Who else? How about you, Guthmund?”
“Take us!” Cwicca was on his feet, face red with rage. “We aren’t turning back. Take me and my mates, and our catapult too, we can unship it from the Norfolk if that Yorkshire fart won’t risk his skin. Cowpang, Ditfen, we’ll take them all if we got to.” A hubbub of agreement from the waist of the ship showed that the freed slaves of the catapult crews had been listening.
“Me too,” said an almost inaudible voice from a small figure lurking behind the mast. Brand looked in several directions till he realized it came from Udd, the steel-master, allowed on the cruise only in his former role of catapult crew spare hand.
“What do you want to go to Norway for?”
“For knowledge,” said Udd. “I have heard men speak of Jarnberaland. Iron-bearing Land,” he added, translating.
Another slight figure appeared to stand unspeaking by him. Hund, the leech, Shef’s childhood friend, now with the silver apple of Ithun round his neck.
“Very well,” said Brand decisively. “I’ll take my own crew and the Seamew as consort. I’ll have space for no more than ten volunteers. You Hund, you Udd, and you, Cwicca. Cast lots for the rest.”
“And us as passengers,” said Thorvin, nodding to his two fellow-priests. “Till we reach the college.”