Raven: Blood Eye Read Online Free PDF

story of Beowulf, when the Geats gathered in the great feasting hall on mead benches studded with precious metals, amongst tapestries worked in gold which glittered on the walls as the glorious warriors rejoiced in the feast. Perhaps this hall had been glorious once, and now these proud heathen warriors from across the grey sea reminded the old, soot-stained beams what they once were.
     
The Abbotsend men had not wanted their women around Norsemen full of mead, so their sons passed through the hall with bulging skins, filling cups and handing out cuts of meat from two pigs roasting over the hearth. Sigurd had bought the pigs from Oeric the butcher and I watched hungrily as fat hissed in the flames and the delicious smell smothered the stink of wood rot, damp earth and men's sweat. Men who could not make themselves understood shouted, thinking this would help, and others laughed. The noise continued well into the night as I made myself useful, turning strange words into sense for drunken men. Later, furs and cushions and straw were fetched and men settled down to sleep. Because the hall belonged to no man, the heathens had seen no reason not to bring their weapons inside. They sat and lay around the hall's edge, each man's round painted shield, spear and sword leaning against the wall behind him.
     
'I've never seen so much mail,' Griffin slurred in a low voice. It was late and despite having beds to go to the Abbotsend men were settling in for the night. Some were already snoring. Griffin and I were slumped at the north end below the hall's only window, a narrow slit with vellum stretched across it. Most of the candles had guttered out, leaving only the stone hearth in the centre of the hall to cast its glow across the shrouded, sleeping figures. 'I've fought for King Egbert, and Beorhtric before him, more times than I care to remember, lad. I tell you, I've never seen better armed men.' He pulled a louse from his beard and examined it. 'We'll all be better off when they clear out.' His gaze returned to Jarl Sigurd, who was talking quietly with an older Norseman with a round face and a bushy beard.
     
'But the trade went well,' I said, watching Griffin absently crush the louse with a thumbnail.
     
His eyebrows arched. 'Aye, it went well,' he admitted. Then he shook his head, his eyes rolling. 'Burghild wants two of those big brooches, the bronze ones with the amber inset.'
     
'But the necklace?' I asked, remembering how proud he had been of his purchase earlier that day.
     
'She says it's no good having the necklace without the brooches to go with it,' Griffin grumbled. Then he caught my eye and we both laughed, waking a dark-haired heathen who managed a curse before closing his eyes again. I must have slept for a time myself then, for I was woken by the clunk of the latch and a creak of the hall door's iron hinges. The murmur of those still awake mixed with men's snores and I watched as old Ealhstan shuffled in, unnoticed by all but a few until the door's hinges gave one last creaking complaint. Ealhstan grimaced. Griffin jerked awake, spilling mead from the cup still in his hand.
     
'Nearly dropped off, lad. Where's he been?' he asked, nodding towards Ealhstan. 'Carving crosses for the pagans?' Then his eyes closed again and his head fell with a bang against the wall. Carefully, I took the cup from Griffin's hand and placed it on the ground out of harm's way as Ealhstan picked his way through the crowd over snoring, farting men.
     
'I'll go for the rod at dawn, old man,' I whispered, thinking Ealhstan had come to make sure I would be awake in time to catch his breakfast. But he batted the words away, frowning, and knelt with a wince. When he was happy that Griffin was asleep and that no one else was watching he stared at me, his thin face in shadow, his wispy white hair glowing in the firelight. 'What's going on?' I asked, and he put a bony finger to my lips. Then he took my hand and pressed something into it. I