Viking Boy by Tony Bradman Read Free Book Online Page B

smiling. Starkad reminded Gunnar of somebody, but he couldn’t think who. “Rurik likes to tease,” Starkad went on. “Mind you, that will probably be the death of him some day.”
    “You think so?” said Rurik. He gripped his own sword hilt. “We’ll see which one of us comes to a sticky end first.” He turned to Thorkel and the other guards. “What do you reckon, lads? Will it be me or Starkad?”
    “Don’t do anything you’ll regret, Rurik,” muttered Thorkel.
    Rurik slowly took his hand off his hilt. “The only thing I regret is that I might have missed supper in the hall. So if you could get Hogni to do what Orm wants, Starkad, my new slave and I will be on our way. It’s strange, though, I’ve never understood why you and our idiot smith should be friends.”
    “It’s really no surprise, Rurik,” Starkad said smoothly, smiling again. “A common enemy can often bring men together. Hogni, do as Rurik says.”
    Hogni glared, his face dark with anger. But soon Gunnar was kneeling while the smith welded the thrall ring shut with the red-hot tip of a poker, the bitter reek of worked iron filling his nostrils. He half expected the smith to burn him with the poker, but Rurik made sure Hogni knew he was watching closely.
    Gunnar rose to his feet at last, the ring heavy round his neck. Rurik walked out, pushing past Thorkel and his men. Starkad, Ari and Hogni watched him go, and Gunnar hurried after him across the courtyard and into the hall.
    “Who is Starkad, Rurik?” he said. “Why did you call him Prince?”
    “What else would you have me call the King of Kaupang’s son and heir?” said Rurik. “Some day all this will be his, and he’s welcome to it.”
    Rurik took a seat at a table, and Gunnar stood behind him. He could see the resemblance between Orm and his son now. Starkad didn’t yet have his father’s bulk, but they had the same sinister smile. Was Starkad his enemy now too, along with Hogni? Gunnar told himself he didn’t care. The only thing that mattered was getting out of Kaupang and bringing Father back from Valhalla. He wasn’t going to be frightened by feuds or the sight of a few rotting corpses in the harbour. He’d just have to be clever, keep his eyes open, find a way.
    The days passed, the north wind brought snow, and Gunnar learned to be a slave. He lived in Rurik’s hut and slept by the hearth like a dog, although Rurik kept his word and was a kindly master. There was plenty for Gunnar to do – errands to run, weapons and armour to clean – but Gunnar soon came to believe Rurik was uncomfortable with the idea of owning a slave. The only time he seemed to like it was when he could flaunt Gunnar in front of Hogni.
    Before long Gunnar felt he knew Kaupang as well as the Great Fjord. The town was always full of people – Vikings from the northern lands, tall, fair-haired Saxons from England, Irishmen with intricately tattooed faces and bodies. There were loud, bearded Franks from further south, wild-eyed Huns from the lands of the Rus beyond the Baltic, even dark-skinned Moors.
    There were traders as well, quick-tongued men who came to buy and sell whatever would bring a profit. And there were the slaves – men, women and children from everywhere. Gunnar was one of them now, and got his fair share of kicks and curses. Although no one dared mistreat him when Rurik was around.
    Gunnar also came to know more about Orm and the people of his hall. Orm had twenty or so warriors – Orm’s Hounds, as they were known. He had a wife too, a scrawny, red-haired, bad-tempered woman called Vigdis who was always yelling at servants and slaves, when she wasn’t beating them, that is.
    But Rurik remained a mystery. Gunnar felt he should understand his master, so one day, on the way back from an errand, he decided to ask Thorkel about him. Thorkel had taken a liking to Gunnar and was always happy to talk.
    “Rurik? He’s a mystery to me too,” said Thorkel with a smile. Gunnar had