Raven: Blood Eye Read Online Free PDF Page B

looked down to see a sprig of fern in my palm. I shrugged, divining no meaning from it. Ealhstan motioned that I should smell the leaves, so I rubbed the sprig between my fingers and sniffed. It smelled rank, like rotten parsnips, and I knew it was not fern, but hemlock. I have seen pigs and sheep die from eating hemlock; first they become excited, then their breathing slows and their legs and ears grow cold to the touch. They die swollen and stinking.
     
I dropped the leaves, spat on my fingers and rubbed my hands on my tunic. Ealhstan puffed up his cheeks and made the sign of the cross.
     
'Wulfweard?' I whispered.
     
He nodded, spotted Griffin's mead cup and picked it up, then pretended to sprinkle something into it. His eyes were slits below thick white brows. He turned and looked at Sigurd who was leaning against the west wall beside his great round shield, iron helmet and wicked, heavy spear.
     
I tugged Ealhstan's shoulder. 'Wulfweard means to poison Jarl Sigurd?' I hissed. 'You saw him gather hemlock?'
     
The carpenter spun back round, glancing at nearby heathens to make sure none had heard or understood. Then he glared at me and I nodded slowly, acknowledging the reproof. 'He's mad,' I muttered.
     
Ealhstan grimaced as though he agreed with me. Then he gestured to the hall's door and stood, motioning that I should follow him. Making sure not to wake the sleeping men around me, I got to my feet and followed Ealhstan silently out of the hall, casually loosening my belt as though I intended to relieve myself outside.
     
The night was dark and moonless. Two dogs were fighting over a fleshy bone. Someone's goose had escaped its pen and now sat on Siward the blacksmith's thatch, spreading its wings and honking proudly. Other than that, the village was asleep. I thought I could hear the surf breaking on the southern shore beyond the black hills. Then Ealhstan reached into the pouch at his waist and held something towards me without taking his eyes from mine. That's when I saw Alwunn, the girl I had lain with at the Easter feast. She stood in the eaves' shadow, wringing her plump hands and staring at Ealhstan. From the state of her knotted blond hair, I guessed the old man must have dragged her from her bed, and I felt a twinge in my stomach at seeing her.
     
'What's going on, Ealhstan?' I asked, looking at the small, bone-handled knife he had given me. A leather thong ran through a hole in the hilt. Ealhstan beckoned Alwunn irritably and she stepped from the shadows, giving a thin smile with her fat lips. She cleared her throat and glanced at Ealhstan once more for approval. He nodded and gave a grunt.
     
'Hello, Osric,' Alwunn said in a small voice. Her eyes widened and she touched her hair, suddenly embarrassed. She licked a hand and pressed it against an unruly hank, without success.
     
'What are you doing here, Alwunn?' I asked, aware of warmth kindling in my loins. 'Are you in your nightclothes?' She shifted awkwardly and I frowned at Ealhstan, who twirled his hand impatiently.
     
'The knife, Osric,' Alwunn said, nodding at the thing in my hand. 'It's important.'
     
'Doesn't look important,' I replied, running a thumb across the dull blade. 'You would struggle to skin a hare with this.' Ealhstan snatched the knife from me and held the hilt up close to my face. I took it back and examined the hilt. Two serpents writhed in the white bone, each beast appearing to swallow its own curling tail. 'It's skilled work,' I admitted. 'And pagan.' Ealhstan grunted. I shrugged. 'I don't understand. Why are you showing this to me?'
     
'I was there when they found you, Osric,' Alwunn said almost guiltily.
     
'So?' I said. I knew the story. I had been found amongst the old people's burial mounds south-east of Abbotsend. No one knew where I had come from and I had been unconscious. When I woke, my mind was empty as a mead barrel at a wedding feast.
     
'Your head was bleeding and they thought you must be dead,' Alwunn