Thorfinn and the Awful Invasion Page 3

  Thorfinn’s father didn’t flinch, didn’t move a muscle, until Erik was just feet away. He thrust his right arm out in front of him, his fist pointing straight at Erik’s face. Thwock!

  Erik rebounded, his one eye rolling, his cheeks wobbling like jelly, and fell against the mast.

  Harold joked, “You’ve got five swords. It’s a pity you don’t have any more heads.” This brought gales of laughter from the crew.

  Erik staggered about holding his head, crying, “THE BELLS! THE BELLS! THEY WON’T STOP.” The crew were bent double now. Erik steeled himself, roared like a bear and charged at Harald once again.

  Just then, Thorfinn handed the famous Viking a bit of cloth he’d been writing on.

  Everyone froze, even Thorfinn’s father and Erik, who were by now sprawled across the deck wrestling cheek to cheek. They half expected to see Thorfinn being chucked over the side of the boat.

  “You again? What’s this?” said Ragnar. He opened out the cloth. It said:

  “It’s your name,” said Thorfinn. “That’s how you write it down. I can teach you if you like. It would probably make your fans a lot happier when you sign autographs.”

  For one moment, Ragnar looked at the cloth, then at Thorfinn. Then he looked at the cloth again. Nobody was sure how he was going to react.

  Then a booming laugh erupted from his chest. He ruffled Thorfinn’s hair, picked him up, danced about with him, and then put him down again.

  “The boy can teach me to write!” he exclaimed. “Ha! Think on it. Next time I meet the King, he will be sooo impressed.”

  The entire crew sighed with relief.

  ***

  After he’d learned to write his own name, Ragnar the Granny-Wrestler left the boat and hauled his way across the divide between the two ships.

  “Set a course for the royal capital!” he roared to his men.

  When he got to his own longship he heaved himself on board and stood erect on the deck. He turned, and waved at them with his sword.

  “Bye, Thorfinn. When I see the King I will sign my autograph for him, like this.”

  He held up the cloth.

  They sailed off before Thorfinn could get Ragnar to turn it the right way up.

  “Well,” said his father as they watched Ragnar’s ship disappear towards Norway. “It looks like we’ve found another use for you, young Thorfinn.”

  “What do you mean?” said Erik. “Because of him, everyone will think we’re a bunch of twits.”

  “Because of him, you overgrown jellyfish,” said Oswald, leaning on his cane, “we are a friend of Ragnar. The King himself may hear of us.”

  “Thorfinn the Pencil-Sharpener?” said Olaf, but this time only his own father responded. Nobody else laughed.

  “Ha!” snorted Erik, and he stomped off, muttering about revenge.

  CHAPTER 11

  The sun went down, and they sailed on towards the west. When the sun came up again, Thorfinn still couldn’t see Scotland. In fact, he saw nothing at all but the swelling sea in each direction. And so on the next day, and the next day. In fact, Thorfinn was beginning to lose track of time. Although he’d read about it many times, he’d never imagined that the world was this big.

  And then, one morning, as the bright red sun was rising in the east, Thorfinn woke up and rubbed his eyes. He got up and looked over the side.

  He saw land.

  “At last!” he said aloud. “We’re here.”

  “That’s right,” said Oswald, who’d been up for a while to brew the tea. “Scotland.”

  The shore was too rocky to land, and so they sailed down the coast, looking for a bay or a beach. They passed a small boat with two boys fishing over the side. Thorfinn gave them a friendly wave.

  “Don’t wave at the Scots, fool!” Olaf smacked his hand away. His hawk was perched on his arm, and he stroked the bird’s head. “We’re here to pillage and destroy, not to make friends with them.”

  Thorfinn shrugged. He couldn’t understand such rudeness. The boys were waving back anyway, so he just ignored Olaf and carried on waving. Then, whistling happily, he went over and fed Percy, whose cage hung off the mast.

  “Why do you keep that mangy pigeon?” said Olaf, looking at the bird with disgust.

  “It’s a very useful bird, the pigeon,” replied Thorfinn.

  Olaf snorted.

  “Ha! Useful?” he said. “Can it hunt? Can it kill? No. It is useless.”

  Thorfinn paid no heed to this. He took Percy out and started stroking his speckly feathers.

  “Tell you what. Let’s have a bet,” Olaf said.

  “What do you mean?” asked Thorfinn.

  “Your mangy pigeon against my magnificent hawk,” said Olaf. “Let’s set them off. Let’s see how useful your pigeon really is. Let’s see what it comes back with, if it comes back at all. Maybe my hawk will eat it.”

  The deck echoed with laughter, as men gathered round to watch.

  Olaf took the hood off the hawk. It had sharp, ruthless eyes and a deadly beak. It took a quick look around. Then Olaf raised his arm and it flew away.

  Everyone watched as the hawk flew round the boat in a circle. The circles got wider and wider as it scanned the sea for prey.

  “It’s hunting for fish,” said Olaf.

  Thorfinn watched as the hawk began hovering over an area of sea.

  “See,” said Olaf. “It’s discovered a shoal of fish below the surface.”

  Thorfinn turned away and wrote a message down on a slip of cloth. He tied it to Percy’s leg and set the pigeon off.

  Percy flew to the north, the direction they’d just come from.

  “Ha! Look at this – Thorfinn the Pigeon-Fancier!” said Olaf. This brought another big laugh from the crew.

  After a few minutes of circling, Olaf’s hawk swooped down to the water and sank its claws underneath. In a frantic splash, the bird emerged with a small fish, and brought it back to the ship. As it dropped the fish into Olaf’s hand, the crew clapped and cheered. This was a great feat for a Viking boy.

  Thorfinn clapped too. It was only a small fish, but hawks were very difficult to train, and it couldn’t have been easy for Olaf to do.

  “Olaf the Hawk-Master!” cried one of the other Vikings. This brought another cheer. Erik the Ear-Masher came up and congratulated his son by slapping him on the shoulders.

  “Ha! I am very proud, son. You’ve shown you can handle a hawk, so how do you like the name Hawk-Master?”

  “I like it, Father,” he said. “But I’d prefer Olaf the Dimwit-Whacker, for when I’ve whacked this dimwit here.”

  “You have yet to win the bet, so do not celebrate,” said Harald. “Let’s see what my son’s bird brings back.”

  “Indeed,” said Thorfinn. “In fact, it shouldn’t be much longer now.”

  The whole crew watched the sky.

  CHAPTER 12

  Sure enough, after just a few more minutes, Percy returned and landed on Thorfinn’s shoulder. Thorfinn removed the slip of cloth from the bird’s leg and unrolled it.

  “Ah, good news,” he said. “They replied.”

  Thorfinn read what was written on the cloth.

  “Oh dear.” He walked up to the back of the ship straight away to speak to the man at the rudder. The rest of the crew followed, puzzled.

  “Who replied?” they said. “And what do you mean, ‘Oh dear’?”

  “Why, the boys in the fishing boat, of course,” Thorfinn said.

  While the rest of the crew looked at each other, bemused, Thorfinn turned to the man at the rudder. He pointed at the headland rising up in front of them.

  “Pardon me, helmsman, but please take a big turn left here. We’re about to sail into some rocks. They’re just underneath the water, right in front of the headland.”

  Quickly, the helmsman steered the ship in a wide circle round the headland. As they passed, everyone aboard could see the rocks just under the surface. They would be a death trap to any ship.

&
nbsp; “By Thor’s teeth!” said Thorfinn’s father. “I do believe you’ve saved the ship.”

  There was a gasp of astonishment among the crew. No one could work out how Thorfinn knew the rocks were ahead of them.

  “It’s easy,” said Thorfinn. “I sent a message to the boys in the boat. I know their language, after all. I told them to follow the hawk, because he’d found that big shoal of fish. In return, they gave me directions.”

  Everyone turned to see a small boat sailing towards the shoal of fish. Thorfinn waved at them again, and the boys on the boat waved back.

  Erik the Ear-Masher and his son were amazed. Olaf looked down at the tiny fish his own bird had caught.

  Oswald banged his stick on the deck and stood up.

  “Now who’s laughing, idiots! Thorfinn the Navigator! Thorfinn the Ship-Master!”

  The whole crew was confused now. They didn’t know what to do. Thorfinn had saved their ship, but they couldn’t possibly cheer someone like him. Instead, they looked down at their feet like a bunch of schoolboys, and mumbled their thanks under their breath.

  Thorfinn’s father came up to him, scratching his head.

  “I can’t work it out,” he said. “How did we manage to raise a boy like you?”

  But Thorfinn’s toughest test was about to come.

  ***

  On the other side of the headland they found a sheltered bay where they could moor the ship and go ashore. They could see a quiet Scottish village nearby, nestled in the hills. Nothing lay between it and the crew of bloodthirsty Viking warriors.

  CHAPTER 13

  Once they’d anchored the ship, Thorfinn’s father had all the shields taken out of the store and put in a big pile on the deck. The Vikings formed a line to receive their shield from their chief. This was a tradition among them. It was the only time Vikings were ever known to queue.

  After each man got his shield, he jumped off the side of the boat, landed in the water and waded ashore. Oswald was lowered down on a rope, yelling all the way.

  “Watch it! You shower of elks!”

  “Shut up, you old relic!” they replied.

  Finally, the whole crew assembled on the beach, and they started to march inland. Oswald had to be carried all the way.

  They marched over some hills and through a very thick forest, until finally they reached the edge of the woods. There, hidden by the trees, they watched the peaceful village they’d seen from the boat.

  The village had a church, an inn and a market place, and it was surrounded by fields of golden wheat. Smoke rose from chimneys, and children played with their dogs in the street.

  “Hmm, what a quaint village,” said Thorfinn. “Pardon me, my dear sirs, but isn’t it a shame to burn it to the ground?”

  There was a snort of outrage. The other Vikings looked like they wanted to burn him along with the village.

  “Once and for all, let us rid ourselves of this young upstart!” cried Erik. “How can we get worked up into our Viking wrath with this peace-loving fool behind us crying out, ‘No, don’t burn that!’ and ‘Oh, don’t loot this!’? It’s very off-putting, you know. He has all the fighting spirit of a plate of boiled turnips!”

  The other Vikings started chattering their agreement. “It’s embarrassing! We’re professionals, you know!”

  “Bah! I’ll have none of this!” cried Thorfinn’s father. He swung his sword and smashed it into a tree. Splinters flew everywhere. “He won’t be behind us, Ear-Masher, he’ll be in front of us.”

  Erik screwed up his face, puzzled.

  “Eh?”

  Thorfinn’s father leaned down and took Thorfinn’s shoulder. “Now then, young Thorfinn, I have a job for you. You must not fail us. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Father,” he replied.

  “You speak their language, so you will go down to the village and deliver our terms. This is the message: ‘Give us everything you have or we destroy the village.’ Do you understand?”

  Thorfinn stroked his chin. “Mmm … then what?” he said.

  “Oh, it doesn’t matter,” replied his father. “We’ll probably destroy the village anyway. But sometimes they run away with all the loot before we get a chance to nick it. This way, perhaps they’ll give us all their loot first. You see?”

  The other Vikings agreed that this was a very good idea.

  “And what if they say no?” Thorfinn asked.

  “Run for it,” said his father. “That’s why we’re sending you and not Oswald. He’s too old, and can’t run as fast. In fact, he can’t run at all.”

  Before Thorfinn had a chance to ask any more questions, his father slapped him on the back and pushed him through the trees towards the village.

  “Go on, quickly!” he bellowed.

  Thorfinn stumbled off in the direction of the village, while the Viking raiders waited under cover of the trees.

  The last they saw of Thorfinn, just before he disappeared out of sight, he was walking up the main street. He took his helmet off to a passing old lady, before declaring loudly, “Good day, dear madam! And what a beautiful afternoon.”

  CHAPTER 14

  The afternoon wore on, and the sun crept across the sky. There was still no sign of Thorfinn. The Vikings were getting very bored and frustrated. They were sitting around on the ground, or propped up against trees. Their weapons were sheathed in their belts, and some men even fell asleep.

  “Where in the name of Thor can that boy be?” said Erik.

  “Perhaps he’s still discussing terms,” said Thorfinn’s father.

  But there was no sign of panic or alarm in the village. The chimneys were still smoking. The children were still playing with their dogs in the street. It didn’t look like a village that knew it was about to be invaded by a Viking horde.

  “I bet you he’s playing bowls with them or something,” said Olaf.

  “Yeah, or maybe he’s offered to do their dishes,” said Erik.

  The restless Vikings started to stir.

  “Perhaps he’s forgotten all about delivering terms and gone off to pick flowers!”

  “What are we waiting for?” said Olaf. “Let’s attack!”

  There was a chorus of agreement amongst the Vikings. They all picked up their swords and shields.

  “Wait,” said Oswald. “Give Thorfinn a chance, you baboons!”

  “That fool! No!” came the reply. “It’s time to attack! Let’s go! Yes!”

  Just as the whole mob was about to break its cover and hurtle down the hill, someone caught sight of a figure coming towards them.

  “It’s Thorfinn!” said Harald. “At last!”

  And he was right. It was Thorfinn. He was carrying what looked like a big basket covered with a cloth. From a distance, it looked like it was piled high with stuff – valuables, perhaps.

  “Am I seeing right?” said Erik. “Is that tray filled with goodies, or what?”

  As Thorfinn got nearer and nearer, taking great care carrying the basket, some of the Vikings started slapping each other on the back, and even discussing gold prices. It looked like Thorfinn had finally come up with the goods.

  At last, Thorfinn pushed through the trees. He had a huge smile on his face as he stopped in front of them all and put down the basket.

  And what was the precious cargo he was carrying?

  He whipped away the cloth.

  Scones.

  What else?

  With lots of jam and cream. They were still piping hot. They had just been baked.

  The whole crew stared, horrified, as if they’d just found out that great Thor himself had a part-time job as a dung collector.

  “Care for a scone, anyone?” Thorfinn said happily.

  “Bah! What is the meaning of this?” cried his father. “You were supposed to come back with the loot!”

  “Oh, the loot, yes,” said Thorfinn. Before he could go on, Erik cut in.

  “You’ve brought us back scones!” he said. “Did we ask for scones? We are fe
arsome Viking warriors! We’re only happy when we’re hacking and impaling and wreaking havoc. We only eat meat. We don’t eat scones! We’ve never eaten scones! We hate scones! Scones are for idiots! Death to all scone-makers!”

  “Ah, but they’re not any old scones,” said Thorfinn. “We’ve got jam and cream and everything. Mrs Ross, the blacksmith’s wife, baked them for me. Try them. They’re the best scones I’ve ever eaten.”

  Now the Vikings were outraged. They wanted to tie Thorfinn to a tree and pelt him with his precious scones.

  CHAPTER 15

  “That’s enough!” they cried. “Let’s get this numbskull once and for all! He’s an embarrassment! He is no Viking!”

  Thorfinn’s father managed to bring some calm to the scene by swiping his axe at a tree, cutting it in half and sending it crashing to the ground. He stood between the other Vikings and his son. His eye started twitching again, and he leaned down and addressed Thorfinn sternly.

  “Bah! Now, look here. Did you or did you not deliver our terms to the village?”

  “I didn’t,” Thorfinn replied innocently, which made the Vikings erupt in fury again. Some of them drew their swords, intent on running him through. Even Thorfinn’s father looked like he had given up with his wayward son. He turned away, disappointed, and shook his head.

  “Well,” continued Thorfinn. “I didn’t think it would be very wise. Not with that massive army camped on the hill over there.”

  It took a moment for this to sink in. The men started shouting with anger again, but then they stopped. Thorfinn’s father turned back to look at his son. Meanwhile, Thorfinn sat down and picked up a steaming hot scone.