Chapter Fourteen - Raedann Escapes
As the blade pressed closer to her windpipe Anna realised that Kendra would do it – this was not a game. The Valkyrie would cut her throat without a second thought. Then the horn would be released and maybe Kendra would be chosen as its new mistress and would take on its powers, summoning an army to conquer Mercia, then Angleland and then maybe all of Midgard. She would reign supreme over the whole world!
It seemed at that moment the Valkyrie had come to the same conclusion, for Kendra’s eyes shone with sudden thought. “You know what I think, mortal child? I think that I do not need any clever magic to give me control of the horn. There is no enchantment necessary to free it from bondage to you. Thy life and thy blood would be sufficient. All I must do is slay thee and my troubles will be over.”
Anna hardly dared to breathe for fear of the steel blade that pressed at her neck, but she knew that she had to say something. “What if you are wrong? What if killing me does not work? Maybe you will never control the horn. Dare you take that risk?”
A flicker of doubt showed in Kendra’s eyes and she hesitated, pulling back slightly, the pressure on the sharp edge of the blade just a fraction less. This moment’s pause saved Anna’s life, for just then the door to the headman’s hall burst open and Iden the priest hurried into the room, puffing and panting and almost hopping from foot to foot in excitement. Kendra looked up with irritation at the man.
“Well? What is it?” she asked, her blade still held against Anna’s throat.
“My Lady Kendra, come quickly!”
“Why? Can’t you see I am busy?”
“It’s Raedann, Mistress, he was seen escaping the village just now.”
“That filthy tinker? He hardly matters does he?”
“The horn, though ...” Iden’s voice trailed away to silence as his mistress looked sharply at him.
“What about the horn, priest?” Kendra snapped, stepping back from Anna and removing the blade.
Anna’s throat stung. She rubbed her hand across it and felt blood sticky on her fingers. Kendra ignored her, all her attention now focused on the fat little priest.
“Well?”
“Raedann has it! He managed to escape from the temple and overpower Aelwulf the miller who was guarding the door. I was too far away to stop him, but I heard one of the children shouting after the tinker to bring the horn back and not to sell it.”
Anna glanced across at Gurthrunn. What had happened? It was clear that having stolen the horn Ellette had given it to the story teller. She must have helped him to escape from the temple? But how had they avoided the guards? And had Lar persuaded Raedann that they should try to sell the horn after all? Seeing the angry expression that flashed over Gurthrunn’s face, Anna wondered if he was having the same thought.
“Raedann is a trader and tinker as you say, Mistress,” Nerian commented. “If he has the horn he may try to reach Tamwerth with it and sell it at the market there. Many in the King’s court would pay a high price for such a treasure.”
Kendra’s face went red with fury. “Find him! Get the whole village on the hunt. Now Nerian! At once! Get after him. Search the road; search the woods, search every farm. Leave not a stone unturned and when you find him, kill him and bring me the horn!”
Nerian nodded and moved towards the door, then hesitated and pointed at Anna and Gurthrunn. “What of these two, Mistress. Shall I kill them?”
Anna cried out in horror at his words and the matter of fact way he spoke them. Her own father! He barely even looked at her. There was no love or affection in his voice; just cold-hearted obedience to his mistress. “Papa ...’ she let out a whispered sob, her throat aching, the image of her father blurring as tears filled her eyes.
Kendra studied Anna and the dwarf for a moment before making a decision. “No,” she said at last. “They may still be of use. Take them and the other children and move them to a secure place. Clearly there is some other way out of the temple. Ensure they are well bound and guarded and then get on with the hunt. The svartálfar will remain to protect me. Now, obey me, Nerian!
“At once, Mistress.”
Once again seized by her father, her wrists tied even more tightly than before, Anna was dragged out of the hall. Nerian and two other villagers took her and Gurthrunn and this time led them both to the village store where the stocks of food were kept. This was a large hut that leant against the rear wall of the headman’s hall and had only one way in: a heavy wooden door that was sealed with an iron lock to prevent theft when times were lean and food had to be rationed. At harvest time fruit and vegetables were laid carefully between layers of straw, or boiled and preserved in pots sealed with honey and wax before being stacked on the shelves. When pigs, sheep and cows were killed in the autumn, their carcases were smoked or salted and hung from hooks fixed into the roof. Cheeses wrapped in cloth were stored here too, along with ale and wine in clay jars. Anna had always found the smells in the storeroom to be quite wonderful and mouth-watering.
“Well,” Gurthrunn grunted between swollen lips, one eye half shut, his face rapidly turning black and blue, “at least we won’t starve.”
“Give me your keys!” Nerian ordered Anna.
When Anna’s mother had been alive she had carried the keys to the store, as was her right and duty as wife to the headman. That duty had fallen to his daughter, who, once the novelty had worn off, had found counting pots of food and making sure they had enough grain for the winter rather dull.
Anna reached down and fumbled with the set of iron keys at her belt. It was hard with her hands bound and Nerian’s growing impatience made it even harder, but at last she got them free. Handing the keys over, Anna gazed into his eyes in the hope of seeing a flicker of remorse. But there was nothing; he was like a stranger.
Moments later the other four children, their hands bound, were herded into the store and the door slammed shut. They could hear the key scraping in the lock and they were left alone in the dark, their only light that which filtered through the thatched roof or under the door.
Waiting until her eyes adjusted to the gloom, Anna turned to Lar. “What did you do? I already figured out that Ellette managed to wriggle free of her bonds and then used her escape route to get out of the temple. I saw her sneak into the hall and steal the horn, but what happened then?”
“I snuck back to the temple,” Ellette piped up, “threw a stone at Aelwulf to make him chase me, then doubled back and opened the temple door. I helped untie the others and let them out,” the little girl paused, clearly pleased with herself.
Hild took up the story, “By the time Aelwulf returned, Raedann was able to jump him and bundled him into the temple before he knew what had hit him.”
Anna was impressed, but she was also angry and wanted to know what had happened afterwards. She glared at Lar, “What then, though? Did you and Raedann agree to sell the horn after all?”
“I hope not,” said Gurthrunn. “If you did, child, I am most displeased. The few silver coins you would get would not be worth the chaos the horn could release in the wrong hands.”
“Relax both of you. Raedann is not going to sell the horn,” Lar answered.
“How can you be so sure? He is a tinker after all. You let him leave with it. What did you think he would do with it?” Anna asked.
“Oh, I have no doubt that once away from the village he would do exactly that. I certainly would,” Lar grinned.
“Enough teasing them, Lar,” Wilburh said. “We don’t have time for this. We need to find a way to escape before they catch him.”
“Why?” Gurthrunn asked.
“Because,” said Ellette, “when they do catch him they will discover that he does not have the horn, which would be bad for Raedann. And then they will come straight back here, which would be bad for us.”
“But I thought you said ...” Anna paused as she realised what Ellette had said. “Why would it be bad for us?”
“Because Raedann does not have t
he horn, Anna. I do!” The small girl gave a big smile and patted a bulge in her dress. “It’s under here.”
“So it was a trick. That was clever,” Anna smiled back.
“Yes. It worked on you and I figured it would work on the rest of the village. They all know Raedann and what he is like. All we had to do was shout after him not to sell the horn.”
Looking from one to another, the dwarf suddenly laughed, “Clever children. That was most ingenious.”
“Yes they have their moments,” Anna agreed. “But what now? What do we do?”
Lar’s grin immediately disappeared. “Well, there we have a problem. We had not anticipated being tied up and locked in here. You see, the idea was for you to use the horn. It is bound to you. It is yours to command. If it really can call up an army it strikes me that this would be a very good time!”
“Use the horn?” Anna echoed doubtfully. “Are you sure we should?”
“We don’t, YOU do,” Wilburh said.
Anna shook her head. “I ... I don’t know. Gurthrunn said it chooses a warrior, a leader of warriors and a champion. I don’t feel like any of those any more. What if I can’t do it? What if I can’t lead as I should? What ... what if the horn chose wrong?”
Then that presence in her head was back and this time the voice spoke out loud so they could all hear it – and it sounded annoyed.
“I choose wrong? The very idea is preposterous! I have been in existence for ten thousand and more years. I have seen wars and battles, heroes and cowards and I tell you that I know a champion when I see one. Doubt no more, child of Midgard. Use my powers and summon an army for you to command.”
The voice died away, but Anna could still feel its presence in her mind, waiting for her to make her decision.
Decision – yes, that was what it was all about in the end. For leaders, champions and heroes, there comes a time when they must make the decision to accept what fate has chosen for them no matter what that fate may be. Anna knew in that moment that for her the time had come. She eyed Ellette, who with her back to Gurthrunn and the boys was fumbling with her bound hands beneath her dress. The little girl retrieved the horn and with a triumphant smile held it out. Anna stared at it for a moment, hesitating one last time and then she nodded her head.
The decision now made, she took the horn from Ellette then looked around in the gloom at the expectant faces of her companions. “Very well; I will do it. I will blow the horn. Merciful Woden, watch over us when I do!”