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CHAPTER 1

April 781A.D.

The day dawned, as many do on the Irish Sea, dull, wet and cold. Windblown spray collected in little pools on the canvas that provided some shelter at the front of the vessel and from time to time, encouraged by the motion of the ship and the wind, they overflowed in rivulets that ran down into the longship's forecastle. The wind was strong, whipping up waves that relentlessly broke over the side of the shield wall along the gunwales. Oars missed their grip in the troughs and became impossible to move in the depth of the wave crests, as the ship approached the grey strip of flat land still three miles ahead. The sail had been dropped long before dawn as the gale increased and the men roused from their storm-broken sleep and put to the oars, thrust out through simple holes below the round shields. Fifteen Norsemen on each side worked the oars against the will of the elements of air and water to bring the ship safe to its harbour. Captain Valgard, a raider of old, knew they would be safe in the lee of the headland shortly and stood steadfast in the stern watching his course and his men critically, with equal interest. From his position on the right-hand side of the longship, by the steerboard, Valgard spotted motion beneath the canvas at the front of the ship. A booted foot, and then another, came out from under the sheeting and then, suddenly, the canvas was thrown upwards and over the head of their former master and current passenger, Agmunder. The Viking stood looking at the day and the sea with disapproval.

'Good morning, Agmunder!' Valgard yelled through a fresh whoosh of spray.

'Good? What's good about it?'

'Turn around, Sire.'

Agmunder took a firm grip of the fore-stay to steady himself and turned around. The grey strip of land was now only a mile away and looked bleak and desolate in the grey light of morning.

Valgard shouted above the wind, 'We're here!'

The spirits of the Norsemen at the oars were lifted by this news almost as much as those of Agmunder. He had waited many years for this moment.

CHAPTER 10

Agmunder's Ness.

This is a scene where they are telling tales around the feast table at the winter celebration:

'I have a story,' said Henrik, as he leant forwards to grab some fish from a platter in the middle of the table.
'Tell all!' said the Thane.

For a second Agmunder thought Henrik's face became white as a daisy, then he steeled himself and began to recount his tale to the party round Agmunder's table, on the winter celebration night.

'On my Father's farm there is a dark, weed-filled pond. A small body of water, maybe eight yards across. It lies in a steep hollow, surrounded by trees, willows that bow low into the water when their branches are weighted by catkins. The water is dark and the green slimy weed that grows on the surface awaits unfortunate animals that slip on the muddy banks and find themselves entangled and drowned.'
Everyone was listening. Not a sound from the guests.
'I had need of water. My younger brother and I were cutting hedges in the field that stands by. My blade became dull and, well, that's a dangerous thing. So, I ventured to the pond to get water for my wet-stone, to sharpen the blade. As I crested the bank I saw a creature erupt out of the water and grab a weasel on the muddy bank below me, not five yards away. Now weasels are fearsome animals to their prey and they fight like the devil, but this one's life was snuffed out by the ferocity of the creature's attack. Swept away in the blink of an eye. The noise of the weasel's consumption masked my approach and whatever it was stayed, it did not run away and it did not become aware of my watching presence. I stopped and silently crouched, so that just the top of my head was showing above the bank beneath the trees. I could still see, but wasn't seen. The thing looked like a monkey with no hair on its slimy green striped and spotted body. The ears were pointed and its back was knobby with bones, like the spines of a stickleback, sticking out of its spine. Thin, wiry legs and arms with webbed, clawed hands it had. It looked for all the world like a child's skeleton in a frog's skin. It crouched while it ate, like a poacher setting a trap, and I could hear it crunching the bones of the catch it feasted upon. I watched as it ate every part, even the claws, and teeth. It looked around several times but seemed content that it was alone. As it finished its meat course a fish was foolish enough to come to the surface, as they do in spring, for a gulp of air. I expect the weed was choking the pond life that gasped for sustenance in the darkened watery world below. The little creature jumped like a frog into the pond, like a lightning strike, exactly where the fish had shown itself to be and after a few seconds of splashing about it once again crawled onto the shore holding the hapless carp in its jaws. I watched, as in a trance, as the vile creature consumed the fish, every part. There was a sound behind me and I turned to see. My younger brother Tostig, had come to find out why I was being so long fetching the water. When I turned back, the creature was gone, nothing. I waited to see if it would come back out from wherever it went to conceal itself and I even had a poke about under the weeping trees after a while, when the terror had subsided and the memory of its hideous form faded.'
Henrik took a gulp of his ale and wiped the back of his hand across his lips.
'Later, I asked about in the village of Beranburgh, by the farm, and was told that I was lucky to get away with my life. If Jinny Greenteeth, for that is how she is called, had discovered me by her pond, that same lightning reaction, with which she despatched the weasel and the carp, would have been visited upon my slothful human body and I would have met my end in the pond that stands by my Father's field below the willows that weep in the presence of death. I left home that very night, and have vowed never to return to the farm. To stay far from the pond. I meet my Father in Garstang at the market from time to time, but I will not return to the farm. I was overjoyed when Agmunder asked me to move to the ness. Another five miles between me and Jinny Greenteeth.'