Chapter 3

Inghen raised an eyebrow. 'That's the best harbour?' she muttered. 'Still, I suppose your father knew what he was talking about.'

Just then, Thorir came over with a worried expression.

'I've been thinking,' he said.

'Not again,' grinned Inghen, but he didn't laugh.

'About what Hvirvil told us.'

'What's that?'

'He said something about undead Fomorians,' Thorir said slowly. 'There was no reference to that on the map.'

They looked at me.

'Look, I don't know anything about it either,' I said. 'It's probably just a legend. But anyway, didn't Hvirvil say something about your sword being the only thing capable of killing them?'

Inghen pondered.

'That's true,' she admitted. 'Still, we clearly know less about the island than we thought. We'd better go cautiously.'

'Very good,' said Thorir. 'Should we send a scouting party first?'

Inghen shook her head.

'No, the less time we spend here the better,' she declared. 'Now, according to the map' - and here she looked doubtfully at me again - 'this is the best harbour we're going to find, here by the cliffs. If we disembark here and take a party of twenty or so men, we should reach the burial mound in half an hour. Which hopefully will be before dark.'

Thorir glanced westwards to where the sun was close to setting over an open stretch of water.

'Might it not be better to wait until morning?'

'No,' Inghen replied. 'I'm impatient to get over and done with. Anyway, I heard a story once about some Vikings who anchored off an island in the Hebrides like this one, and only one survived the experience.'

'What happened?' asked Thorir.

'The man wouldn't say. But he certainly lost his crew round about that time... And the island he described sounded not unlike this one.'

Thorir shot a horrified glance at the calm, peaceful shore.

'Perhaps we should sail off and come back tomorrow,' he murmured, awed.

'Don't be a coward,' Inghen said in a bullying voice. 'Besides, what if some of Hvirvil's men have survived, and they find the treasure while we're away? I couldn't accept that after all the trouble we've been to.'

I considered pointing out that Hvirvil had been following us because he hadn't known where the island was, but thought better of it. It wouldn't help my cause, which was simply to get the Vikings to the barrow, collect my well-deserved reward, and go somewhere more congenial. I waited impatiently as the longship bobbed towards the shore, muttering to myself as it finally anchored beside the grass bank that began where the cliff tumbled away into small boulders. The Vikings prepared to go ashore.

I leapt into the water beside Gunnholm the Berserker and his brothers. We sloshed towards the rocky beach alongside the rest of the warriors, darting glances back at the crew members who remained aboard, and clambered up onto dry land. In the lea of the turf bank, Inghen turned to us.

'Now, men,' she called. 'We don't know everything about this island; all we know is that the burial mound is inhabited by trolls...'

There was a rumble of consternation at this.

'But...' Inghen cried, 'But the sword I took from Hvirvil is said to be the only weapon capable of killing them. So that's not a problem. Come on, lads! Plunder awaits us!'

The Vikings cheered at this, and I have to admit that I added my own voice to the uproar, getting carried away by their enthusiasm. Then Inghen turned, and ran lightly up the turf to stand poised on the skyline. Clanking with weapons and armour, her Vikings followed her.

The turf soon turned into moorland, and the moorland into marsh. Mist swirled thickly around us, and our boots splashed in the boggy ground. It almost reminded me of home, it was so soggy. We soon reached the shores of a stream which flowed down from the granite peak, and after consulting my father's map, started up its banks. It was hard going, slipping and sliding on the wet rocks, and sometimes we had to clamber up onto the moor when the going became impossible. But finally we reached the dank valley beneath the cliff of which my father spoke.

'Here we are!' I called, as we came out into the open after a long trudge between stone outcrops. In the west, the sun was setting. 'Somewhere in this valley, it is.'

'Is that it?' Bjorn rumbled, indicating an immense pile of rocks on the far side of a wide, still, stagnant pool.

'Could be,' Inghen murmured. 'Thorir, take Conchobar and scout it out.'

With me at his side, the Dane approached the barrow.

It was huge, practically a hill; about forty feet across and so high that after we had reached the edge of the pool, it blocked out our view of the wet cliffs rising behind it. As we approached, though, I kept my eye on them, anxious to make sure that all was as I had been led to expect.

We reached the side of the mound, and followed it round. On the far side, facing the cliffs, we discovered a rough-hewn entrance; two vertical monoliths topped by a massive lintel stone. Beneath this, a dark passage led straight into the burial mound. Beside it, another menhir stood at an angle to the entrance, like a door for giants or trolls.

Thorir whooped. 'We've found it!' he laughed with relief. 'At last!'

'Now you realise I'm no traitor?' I asked. He glanced at me, grinning. He shook his head.

'You're no traitor!' He slapped my back. 'Come on, let's get back to Inghen, tell her the good news.'

We hurried back to where the rest of the Vikings were waiting, in the lee of the rising cliffs.

'It's there!' laughed Thorir. 'Now, if no-one else has looted it - we're rich!'

Inghen smiled to herself. She got up from the boulder where she had been sitting.

'Come along, then,' she said to her men. She gave me an arch smile which dried up the roof of my mouth. 'You can expect to be well rewarded,' she murmured. She beckoned her men on, and we followed her down the valley and up to the entrance.

She peered into the darkness.

'Should have been anticipating this,' she muttered. 'Torches would be useful.'

'There's next to no wood round here,' Bjorn muttered. 'And it's too wet to burn.'

Inghen shrugged carelessly. 'We're all old enough not be scared of the dark. Come.'

We followed her into the burial mound.