Hereward 04 - Wolves of New Rome Read Online Free Page B

ragged scars. Battle had not been kind to him; it looked as if he had been whittled down bit by bit. And yet he still had his life, and his stripped torso was powerfully built. If he could survive such deprivations and come back for more, he would never die easily. Hereward knew he should not underestimate such a warrior.
    The ruined man pointed directly at the Mercian, and as his ship neared he tore his mouth wide and roared. As one, his men drew in their oars and roared in unison so that it seemed a wild beast was bearing down on them.
    ‘Wait until you smell the reek of their sweat,’ Hereward said, just loud enough for his own men to hear. ‘And with luck we will take some more parts of their leader.’
    The red-sailed ship’s tillerman guided his charge with dexterity as it swept alongside. Still roaring, the crew rose from their benches and braced themselves. They were a motley group. Wild-haired and bearded, skin lashed red by the elements. Hereward wrinkled his nose. They stank of vinegar sweat, yes, but shit and piss too, as if they had not put ashore in many a day.
    Iron hooks flew across the gulf and bit into the wood along the side of the English ship. Amid cheers and jeering laughter, the wild men of the sea braced themselves and hauled on the attached ropes to bring the two vessels together.
    Wait
, Hereward thought.
Wait.
    The churning black water between the ships shrank to a spear’s width. The noise from the pirates grew so loud it drowned out the distant rumble of thunder. The English remained silent, heads bowed, as still as stones.
    As the ships drew closer, the ruined man sensed something was wrong. Slowly his axe lowered. He looked across his quarry until his gaze settled on Hereward. The Mercian held that look, a warrior’s stare, and though he could read nothing in those destroyed features he knew the other man must sense the deception.
    ‘Now!’ Hereward bellowed.
    With a roar that dwarfed the enemy’s battle-cry, the English wrenched up their weapons and leapt to their feet. Silence fell upon the other ship, but only for a moment. Fury erupted as the pirates recognized the trickery, driving them on to even wilder exhortations.
    Guthrinc rested one foot upon the front bench, nocked an arrow and let the shaft fly. It rammed through the eye of a red-bearded man and burst out of the back of his skull, flipping his helm off his head. Stunned by the speed of the attack, the pirates were wrong-footed. A wave of English fighting men crashed upon them. Axes slammed down. Spears thrust. And for a while the spray turned red.
    Once his fingers closed around the cool hilt of his sword, Hereward launched himself off the side of the ship. The heaving swell flew beneath his feet. As he came down with a furious yell, he swung Brainbiter in an arc. The blade tore through the neck of the man in front of him, almost severing the head in one stroke. Snarling his hands in the dead man’s tunic, he yanked him forward into the brine between the ships, then stepped into the gap and hacked right and left. Two men howled as they buckled.
    On the rolling swell, he felt as if he were fighting while standing on the back of a bucking stallion. But the reeking bodies were so closely packed in the confined space, he was locked in place. Unable to swing his sword, he gut-stabbed one man, then drove the blade up into the exposed jaw of another. Beside him, Kraki hooked with his axe. Guthrinc heaved a man above his head as if his victim were a sack of flour and hurled him into the sea. Others sliced groins or the backs of knees. Those with spears stayed by the gunwale, creating some room with their constant thrusting.
    Under his feet, the deck was as slick with blood as the ghost ship they had discovered. The sea wolves fought on to the last. What else could they do? There was nowhere to flee, and any man who ended up in that turbulent sea was unlikely to survive long enough to swim to shore. And these were not true warriors,