Saxon: The Book of Dreams (Saxon 1) by Tim Severin Read Free Book Online Page A

in hand. Horsemen swore at us. They shouted at us to clear the road. Arnulf ignored them, and they were forced to find a way around us. As they drew level, his angry scowl and the ugly
blotch on his face was enough to deter them from complaining further.
    Only once did Arnulf turn his wagon aside for other road users. A small party of mounted men came towards us, ordinary looking except that they had a small escort of soldiers. Arnulf promptly
veered his wagon to one side, and they rode on past, stony-faced. Then a hundred yards down the road, one of them turned his horse and came back to us. He was a young man, a clerk perhaps. He
reined in and asked Arnulf a series of questions – how long he had been on the road, where he was from, where he was going and how much he had paid at the last three toll points. His answers
seemed to satisfy the young man who had given a curt nod and trotted off to rejoin his companions.
    ‘Who was that?’ I asked. I had never seen Arnulf so respectful.
    ‘King’s commissioners,’ he said. ‘Sent out with royal orders and the power to demand explanations. They poke and pry, making sure that the kingdom is running
smoothly.’
    ‘Why do they have an armed guard?’
    ‘For show. No one would dare interfere with them.’
    ‘Are we near Aachen then?’
    ‘This forest is the king’s hunting preserve.’
    It was a lonely, gloomy place, mile after mile of dense woodland. Evening was coming on and as the light faded I had an uneasy feeling that someone was tracking us from within the forest margin.
But whenever I looked, I saw nothing. I mentioned my worries to Arnulf but he only grunted. Eventually we found a clearing where we could halt for the night. It was not worth lighting a fire, so we
ate a meal of cold ham and bread provided by the last monastery kitchen, and lay down to sleep under the wagon. The two oxen, obedient as well-trained dogs, ate their forage and then sank down on
their knees to rest.
    Sometime later a faint scratching sound woke me. I raised myself on one elbow and peered out. A bright moon in a cloudless sky gave enough light to cast shadows. Everything seemed normal. I
could make out the bulky outlines of the two oxen, and I heard the faint sound of chewing cud followed by the deep rumble of an animal gut. Beyond the beasts was the black margin of the forest, and
somewhere deep in the forest an owl hooted. I sank down and lay quietly, wondering if I had been woken by the sound of a rat or fox investigating our provisions. Abruptly there came a stifled yelp.
Two dark figures dropped on the ground beside the wagon and silently ran off into the dark woods. I scrambled to my feet. Looking up at the eel tank, I saw the lid was ajar. My shout woke Arnulf
and Osric, and they joined me in time to see the first serpent shape slither out of the tank.
    Arnulf let out an oath.
    ‘Get the lid back on before we lose the lot!’
    I reached out to haul myself up on the wagon. In the darkness my hand landed on something wet and slime-covered. It twisted away like a slippery muscular rope. I fought to overcome my revulsion.
Putting my foot on the axle hub to use it as a step, I was knocked off-balance by the weight of a large eel which flung itself down the side of the wagon and struck me in the chest. It disappeared
into the darkness, snaking rapidly across the ground. I gritted my teeth and swung myself up until I was standing next to the tank. I pressed down hard on the lid, trying to force it shut. It would
not close: an eel was trapped halfway. It thrashed in panic, flailing against my arm and gripped itself around my wrist. Then Arnulf was beside me. He had the wooden mallet he used for securing the
axle pins. He hit out, striking the escaping eel which twisted clear and was gone. I felt the lid drop into place and dull tremors as more eels attempted to force their way out. Arnulf had located
the wedge that the thieves had removed and hammered it fiercely back in