Oakleaf Bearers

30

E RAK LOOKED AT THE FIGURE STANDING BESIDE HIM IN THE stern of the wolfship and, for the hundredth time, was unable to prevent a broad grin from breaking out across his face.

Halt noticed the look, and the grin, and said in a sour tone, "It must lose its fascination after a while, surely?"

The jarl shook his head, his grin broadening. "Not for me," he replied cheerfully. "Every time, it's just as fresh as the first."

"I'm so glad that Skandians have such a lively sense of humor," the Ranger said, scowling. It didn't serve his ill temper any better to see that several of the other Skandians were grinning as well. In truth, he was a comical figure. He had forsaken his Ranger's cloak and garb and was dressed in Skandian clothing-sheepskin vest, a short fur cloak and woolen breeches, wound around with leather bindings from the knees down. At least they should have been wound from the knees down. In fact, since Halt was considerably smaller in stature than any of the adult Skandians, the leggings were bound from his thighs down, the breeches sagged alarmingly at the crutch and the sheepskin vest hung loosely on him, seemingly with room for another person of his own size inside.

"It's your own fault," Erak replied. "For deciding to try to disguise yourself as one of us."

"I told you," Halt muttered. "The Temujai got a good look at me when they were chasing us near the border-and even without that, they have no reason to love anyone dressed as a Ranger."

"So I've heard," Erak said, still grinning. He bent to the sighting ring before him, checked the position of the floating lodestone and adjusted the sight ring to conform with it. Then he read off the bearing to the next headland.

"A little east to east of south," he said to himself, then, raising his voice, he called to his men: "Look alive now! Sand Creek Bay lies beyond that next headland!"

There was an expectant shuffle on the decks of the wolfship as the Skandians made sure their weapons were close to hand-although not obviously so. At a nod from Erak, the masthead lookout relayed the message to the other two wolfships sailing in close company with them. Very obviously making an effort not to grin, the wolfship skipper nudged Halt in the ribs with a not too gentle elbow.

"You'd better put on your helmet," he told the Ranger, whose countenance darkened even further than before as he reached for the huge horned helmet that every Skandian warrior wore.

This had been the most contentious piece of equipment. Erak had maintained that no Skandian would ever appear in public without a helmet, and that there was no question of Halt's not wearing one. Yet the sizes were immense compared to what Halt considered to be his own perfectly normal head size. Even the very smallest helmet that Erak could find wobbled loosely on Halt, and came down over his ears and eyes. By dint of much padding with cloths, they had finally managed to get the helmet to sit more or less firmly on his head. But it still gaped amazingly all around.

The Skandians looked on with ill-concealed amusement as Halt carefully placed the helmet on his head. Borsa, who had joined the expedition on Ragnak's orders, shook his head and chuckled. The unwarlike hilfmann, who'd never seen a day of battle in his life, knew he looked more the part than Halt did.

"Even if this turns out to be a wild-goose chase," he said cheerfully, "it will have been worth it to see this."

Halt turned away angrily. It was a mistake. With the rapid head movement, his helmet became dislodged and tipped down over his eyes. He cursed quietly to himself, straightened the ridiculous headgear and resigned himself to the smothered laughter of the Skandians.

They had been running before a quartering wind, but now, as Erak prepared to bring Wolfwind around the headland and across the wind, there was a flurry of activity on board as the big square sail was gathered in and furled to the cross yard. The long, heavy oars clattered in their tholes as the crew ran them out, and before the ship had time to lose way, they began their smooth, rhythmic stroking. Glancing behind, Halt saw the other ships had followed suit. Once again, the helmet tilted awkwardly on his head and, with a gesture of disgust, he ripped it off and dropped it to the deck. He glared at Erak, daring the big Skandian to make some comment. The jarl merely shrugged his shoulders and smiled.

They were almost around the last promontory now and those without any duties involved in keeping the ship moving and on course craned eagerly to see whether the beach would be empty-or whether there would be a war party of Temujai warriors waiting for them. With tantalizing slowness, the boat crept past the headland, gradually revealing the strip of sandy beach beyond. Halt felt a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, as the first sight of the beach showed no sign of any Temujai. But they were only looking at the southern end of the beach, and as they came farther around, there was a soft sigh from those watching and the sinking feeling in Halt's stomach turned to a flame of fierce exultation.

There, drawn up at the center of the beach, were three squadrons of Temujai cavalry.

Their dome-shaped felt tents were pitched in neatly ordered rows. Horses were tethered on a grass sward where the beach ended. There were sixty men to a squadron, Halt knew. He presumed each squadron would be leaving ten men to tend the horses, which, of course, couldn't travel on the wolfships. The discordant blare of a Temujai horn from the beach told them that they had been sighted.

Borsa shook his head sadly at the evidence of Slagor's treachery. "I'd been hoping that this would be an empty quest," he said bitterly. "The thought of any Skandian turning traitor is a bitter one to face."

He moved away from Halt and Erak and the two men exchanged glances. Erak shrugged. His was a more cynical temperament than the hilfmann's, and he had better knowledge of Slagor's character.

"Time to make absolutely sure," he said quietly, and heaved on the steering oar to bring Wolfwind 's prow heading straight toward the beach. As arranged, the other two ships hove to, the rowers maintaining a slow, relaxed stroke to hold them in position against wind and tide, some two hundred meters off the beach. They were still within bowshot there, but the huge, circular Skandian shields that were ranged along the bulwarks gave the sailors protection against any Temujai attack.

Those on Wolfwind weren't so fortunate. They were heading straight inshore, every stroke of the oars making them more vulnerable to a sudden volley of Temujai arrows.

"Keep your heads down," Erak growled at his rowers. It was an unnecessary warning. They were hunched down as far as they could be, trying to prevent any part of their persons from showing above the oak bulwarks. Halt noticed that the jarl's right hand strayed from the steering oar from time to time, and brushed almost unconsciously against the haft of the massive battle-ax that leaned close by.

Activity on the beach was growing now, and a party of half a dozen Temujai had moved to the water's edge. Behind them, orders were being shouted and squads were forming as troop leaders prepared their men to embark on the three wolfships.

The deep water continued in quite close to the beach. Of course, the wolfships were designed to beach in water as shallow as one meter, but the Temujai weren't aware of the fact and Halt and Erak had agreed that it made better sense to keep the enemy at a distance. Twenty meters from the water's edge, Erak gave a brief command and the oars on one side of the ship backed while the others went ahead, swinging the narrow craft through ninety degrees, virtually in her own length.

Erak nodded to his second in command, who hurried to the tiller. Then the jarl stepped to the shoreward side of the ship and raised his voice in his familiar storm-quelling bellow.

"Ahoy the beach!" he called, and Halt, standing close by, hastily moved a few paces farther away.

The Tem'uj standing in the center of the small group on the beach cupped his hands and called back.

"I am Or'kam, commander of this force," he called. "Where is Slagor?"

Behind him, Halt heard a quick intake of breath and turned to see Borsa shaking his head sadly, his eyes downcast. Several of the other Skandians also exchanged glances at this incontrovertible confirmation that Slagor had been involved in the plan.

"Keep still!" Halt warned them, and the men hurriedly masked their reactions. Erak was answering now, with the story that he, Borsa and Halt had agreed upon.

"Oberjarl Ragnak was growing suspicious of our movements. It was too dangerous for Slagor to come on this expedition. He will join us at Fallkork Island."

There was a hurried consultation between the Temujai leaders.

"They don't like it," Erak muttered out of the side of his mouth.

"They don't have to like it. They just have to believe it," Halt told him in the same undertone. After several minutes' discussion, Or'kam stepped away from the group and called again.

"We expected Slagor. How can we be sure we can trust you? Did he give any message? Any password?"

On the ship, the men exchanged worried glances. This was the one eventuality they had feared. If Slagor had arranged a password with the Temujai, then their plan was spoiled. Of course, their main aim had already been achieved. They had proved Slagor's complicity in the plot. But now that they were here, the chance of taking 150 men out of the enemy's battle line, without any loss to their own forces, was tempting in the extreme.

"Bluff it out," Halt said quickly. "He already said he was expecting Slagor, so they didn't need a password." Erak nodded. It made sense.

"Look, horseman," Erak bellowed again. "I don't need a password, do I? I'm here to pick you up. And I'm risking my neck to do it! Now if you choose to come aboard, then do so. If not, I'm going raiding and leaving you and Ragnak to your little war. Now you choose!"

Once again there was an urgent consultation on the beach. They could see Or'kam's reluctance in his movements, but equally, they could see him weighing his options, and after a long, searching glance at the wolfship, he obviously decided he had nothing to fear from the skeleton crews of rowers on the three ships.

"Very well!" he called. "Bring your ships in and we'll board."

But now Erak shook his head.

"We'll bring you out on the skiffs," he called. "We can't beach here."

Or'kam made an angry gesture. Obviously he didn't like it when things didn't go precisely according to his wishes.

"What are you talking about?" he yelled. "Slagor beached his ship right here. I saw him do it!"

Erak moved to the bulwark and stood up on it, completely exposed to any possible fire from the beach.

"Careful," Halt muttered, trying not to let his lips move.

"And tell me, horseman," Erak said, his voice heavy with sarcasm, "did Slagor then load fifty men aboard his ship and take her off the beach?"

There was a pause as the Temujai leader thought through the reasoning in what Erak had said. Erak saw the hesitation and pressed on.

"If I beach now and load your men aboard, we'll never get her off again. Particularly with the tide falling the way it is."

That seemed to clinch it. Or'kam reluctantly signaled his agreement.

"Very well!" he called. "How many can you take at a time?"

Erak resisted the temptation to heave a sigh of relief.

"Three skiffs, eight men each," he called. "Twenty-four at a time."

Or'kam nodded. "All right, Skandian, send in the skiffs."