Hereward 03 - End of Days Read Online Free Page B

sword in his back.
    ‘Hide,’ he whispered to the man across his shoulders. ‘Let our enemy think there is only one of us.’ Once again he shrugged Hengist off his shoulders as if he were tossing down a sack of grain. When he saw his spear-brother crawl away into the willows, he nodded, relieved. He felt a calm descend on him, and turned to face his fate, good or ill. His axe felt good in his hand. His heart was full and his blood burned in his veins.
    He stared into the fog, waiting.
    After a moment, what he at first took to be a bear crashed out of the white folds. No Norman, this. Furs and blood-caked mail and worn leather. A helm dented by the blows of many axes. Eyes all-black, and wild hair and beard that had been dyed red by berries. Kraki recognized Harald Redteeth, the axe-for-hire who had sworn to take Hereward’s life for some slight, Kraki wasn’t sure what. But it must have been great indeed, for the Viking had hunted the Mercian for years to achieve his blood-oath.
    Kraki lowered his shoulders and brought his blue and white shield up. His nostrils flared. He could smell the reek of the other man’s sweat.
    ‘Hereward’s man,’ Redteeth said, giving a broken-toothed grin. ‘Where is your master?’
    ‘I call no man master.’
    The Viking shrugged. ‘You would die in his place?’
    ‘If there is death here, it will not be mine.’
    Harald nodded, accepting the call to battle. Raising his rough, unpainted shield, he shook his axe. The two warriors began to circle. A track appeared through the glistening bracken.
    Kraki narrowed his eyes. The rest of the world faded away. He studied Harald Redteeth’s face, the scars from spear, sword and axe, the swath of pink where the skin had been burned away: a map of battles. Here was a worthy foe.
    A roar shattered the moment as Redteeth swung his axe high. The two warriors clashed like rutting stags. Thrusting his shield in front of him, Kraki smashed his enemy’s blade aside. The seasoned wood groaned. He hacked down with his own weapon, but the blade only bit deep into his enemy’s shield. He wrenched it free and took a step back.
    They circled each other again.
    When next the calm broke, Kraki lunged to hook his foe. Darting in close, he swung his axe behind Redteeth’s back. With a lightness of foot that belied his bulk, he leapt back, dragging his weapon with him to rip open his opponent’s side. But the Viking rolled to one side as the blade came back, and there was only a trail of sparks where it raked across his mail. Redteeth threw back his head and laughed.
    Kraki glowered – he saw no humour. Fighting was serious business.
    Delirious with battle-fury, Redteeth’s unblinking eyes were as black as coals. It was the toadstool-madness, Kraki knew, giving him a strength above all men, and a relentless ferocity. He seemed not to tire. Round and round they went, blades flashing high and low, until Kraki thought there would be no end to it.
    Behind the Northman, Hengist raised his head above the swaying fronds. Kraki had no time to be shocked. The mad English warrior yanked up a broken branch that had been hidden beneath the bracken and jammed it between Redteeth’s legs. The mercenary went down hard. Kraki wrenched up his axe. But when he locked eyes with the Viking, he realized he could not kill him. The fight had not been won fairly; it would be an ignoble death. With a flick of his wrist, he hammered the haft down into the fallen man’s face.
    Nearby, hunting horns blared and men called to each otherin the guttural Norman tongue. ‘We are not free yet,’ Kraki growled.
    Once he was sure Redteeth was unconscious, he grabbed a handful of Hengist’s tunic and hauled him effortlessly on to his shoulders. He remembered Guthrinc’s words to Hereward when their leader had spared the Viking’s life: This night will come back and bite you in the arse . Kraki feared this day would do the same. But he would not – could not – have done anything