The Hammer and The Cross by Harry Harrison. Chapter 3, 4, 5

Never do anything for himself again, Shef realized. He would depend on others for every action of life, from eating to pissing.

“They’ve made him a heimnar,” said Edrich, using the Norse word. “A living corpse. I’ve heard of this before. Never seen it. But don’t trouble yourself, boy. Infection, pain, loss of blood. He won’t live long.”

Incredibly, the wasted eyes in front of them opened. They shone with pure malevolence on Shef and Edrich. The lips parted and a dry snakelike whisper came forth.

“The runaways. You ran and left me, boy. I will remember. And you, king’s thane. You came, exhorted us, would have us fight. But where were you when the fighting ended? Have no fear, I will live yet, to be avenged on you both. And on your father, boy. I should never have reared his get. Or taken back his whore either.”

The eyes closed, the voice was still. Shef and Edrich walked out into the thin drizzle that was beginning once again.

“I don’t understand,” said Shef. “What did they do it for?”

“That I do not know. But I can tell you one thing. When King Edmund hears of this he will be in a fury. Raid and murder under truce, that’s normal enough, but this, done to one of his men, a former companion… He will be of two minds, perhaps feeling that he must spare his people more of the same. But then again he may decide he is honor-bound to seek vengeance. It will be a difficult decision for him.” He turned to look at Shef.

“Will you come with me, lad, when I take him the news? You are not a freeman here, but it is plain to see that you are a fighter. There is nothing for you now in this place. Come with me and you will be my servant till we can get you proper equipment and armor. If you can fight well enough to stand up to a jarl of the heathens the king will make you his companion, no matter what you were here in Emneth.”

The lady Thryth was walking toward them, leaning heavily on a stick. Shef asked her the question that had been burning in his mind since first he saw the smoke from ravaged Emneth.

“Godive. What has happened to Godive?”

“Sigvarth took her. She has gone to the Vikings’ camp.”

Shef turned to Edrich. He spoke firmly, without apology.

“They say I am a runaway and a slave. Now I will be both.” He unbuckled his shield and dropped it on the ground. “I shall make for the Viking camp down by the Stour. One more slave—they may take me in. I must do something to rescue Godive.”

“You won’t last a week,” said Edrich, voice cold with anger. “And you will die a traitor. A traitor to your people and to King Edmund.” He turned on his heel and walked away.

“And to the blessed Christ Himself,” added Father Andreas, appearing from the shelter. “You have seen the pagans’ deeds. Better to be a slave in Christendom than a king among such as they.”

Shef realized that he had made the decision quickly—perhaps too quickly, without thinking. But having done this he was now committed. Thoughts tumbled in his head: I have tried to kill my father. I have lost my foster father to a living death. My mother now hates me for what my father did. I have lost my chance to be free and have lost one who would have been my friend.

Such thoughts would not help him now. He had done this all for Godive. Now he must finish what he had begun.

Godive woke with a splitting pain in her head, smoke in her nostrils and someone struggling beneath her. Terrified, she struck out and pushed herself away. The girl on whom she had been lying began to whimper.

As her eyes cleared, Godive realized she was in a wagon, a moving wagon creaking along a puddled road. Through its thin canvas tilt, light shown on its cramped interior packed with humanity, half the girls of Emneth lying one on top of another. A steady chorus of moans and sobbing rose from them. The small square of light at the back of the wagon suddenly darkened and a bearded face showed at it. The sobbing dissolved into shrieks and the girls clutched at each other or tried to hide themselves behind their companions. But the face only grinned—its white teeth gleaming brilliantly—shook a finger in warning, and withdrew.

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