Free Viking Boy by Tony Bradman Page A

been able to save him.”
    “Maybe so,” Rurik said quietly, his head down. “But I should have been there. I would have died to protect him, I swear.”
    Neither of them spoke for a moment, both lost in their own thoughts.
    “We do have a lot in common, you and I,” Gunnar said after a while. “You punish yourself because you believe you let your brother down. I do the same because I did nothing while raiders killed my father.”
    Rurik turned to look at him. “But there was nothing you could have done. They were warriors and you were a boy.”

    “What does that matter? Like you, I can never forgive myself.”
    A rock splashed into the sea between them. “Hey, stop all that whispering!” Ari yelled. “You should be doing less talking – and more drowning!” Ari grinned, pleased with his joke, and the crowd laughed with him. Rurik looked up at them, but said nothing.
    “What was your brother’s name, Rurik?” said Gunnar, his teeth chattering. “Do you think he would have wanted you to die a slave’s death? Somehow I doubt it. You swore an oath to him that you didn’t fulfil. You can make up for that by helping me fulfil mine. But only if you live.”
    Rurik frowned, then closed his eyes. After a moment he opened them and turned to gaze at Gunnar again. “Did I hear you say you have a knife?” he said. “Where did you get it?”
    “That’s not important,” Gunnar said. “I’ll cut myself free as soon as the water covers me. I’ll stay under and free you, then hide beneath the quayside. You can follow as soon as the water covers you too. Once the crowd has gone we’ll make good our escape, get out of this stinking town for ever.”
    Rurik shook his head and laughed gently. “Ah, Gunnar, how full of courage and cleverness you are! Most grown men would have given up long since, but you keep fighting. Who am I to argue? We’ll probably drown, but I’ll try your plan. For your sake, and my brother’s…”
    But Gunnar had stopped listening and was already hacking at the rope round his chest. They were running out of time. The water had reached the level of his shoulders and was lapping at his chin. Soon it reached his nose, and he just managed to cut himself loose as the waves swept over his head.
    The crowd cheered, but the sea roared in his ears and their noise vanished. It was dark under the water and he felt afraid that he might not even be able to find Rurik. The current tugged at him, but Gunnar reached out in what felt like the right direction and found the big man’s arm. He held on to Rurik’s post with one hand, sawing at his bonds with the other.
    He cut through them at last, then turned to swim towards the quayside. He kicked out, his chest bursting, and had almost started to panic when his hand touched something hard covered in slimy seaweed – one of the pilings.
    He pulled himself round it and shot up, bursting through the surface and gulping in a huge breath, the knife slipping from his hand. More pilings stood to his right and left, and an arm’s length above his head was the quayside. Stray gleams of light from the crowd’s torches stabbed down through the narrow gaps between the planks. They were still cheering and jeering, and suddenly Gunnar heard the unmistakable voice of Vigdis. “There he goes!” she screeched.
    Gunnar whipped round. Rurik was struggling to keep his head above the water. As Gunnar watched, the big man took one last, desperate gulp of air – and then the sea claimed him, leaving only bubbles and foam.
    The crowd gave the biggest cheer so far. Gunnar stared out over the waves, praying that Rurik was swimming towards him below the surface. But he didn’t appear and Gunnar began to worry. How long had it taken to cover the distance from the posts to the quayside? Surely Rurik should have made it by now. Perhaps he hadn’t cut all the ropes. Perhaps Rurik was already dead…
    “Well, that’s the end of them,” Gunnar heard Ari say. “They’re both