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CHAPTER IV

I stood in the abbot's cell. I felt muddled because, though being called in for a beating was hardly strange to me, I couldn't recall what I'd done this time. He sat slumped on his hard bed, and he sighed and looked up at me with an old horse's eyes.

"Unlike some people, I know how to do what I'm told," he said, getting to his feet. "I don't like it, but I do it, because without obedience the world falls in. Is that not so?"

"Very true, Father," I said.

"Don't lie to me. A lying tongue like yours should be torn out at the roots and fed to dogs, and the dogs stoned, that our calling be not disgraced. And to think they want you—you don't even believe in God, do you?"

"I suppose not, Father."

" `I suppose not, Father.' You're worse than the rest. You live in this prison, this shambles, this slave pen of earth and you watch the evils that fall on the innocent, and as long as it touches you not it bothers you no more than the death of a bedbug in Babylon; but let the blow fall on you or someone you care about and you shout, `There is no God.' And the joke of it is that you don't disbelieve in Him at all. You're just trying to hurt His feelings to get His attention. As if God suffered by your disapproval."

"He acts as if He's not there. What am I to think?"

"Think anything you like. It matters naught to me. I only called you here to give you the message entrusted to me."

"Entrusted? By whom?"

"By Authority at the highest level, of course. I act only in the orthodox fashion: I come in a dream, which is not, strictly speaking, me coming to you at all, but only a fantasy of your sleeping mind. The fathers of the church condemned with one voice all attempts to communicate with the dead, although Origen . . ."

I knew he'd go on like this for hours if I let him. "You're saying you're dead?" I put in.

He looked at me as if he'd forgotten my existence. "Of course I'm dead," he said. "You mean you didn't know? The last thing I ever saw on earth was the welcome spectacle of your back heading down the road and away from the abbey, before I fell into the apopleptic fit that killed me. You may add to your catalogue of sins the occasion of a good man's death."

I thought of apologizing, but decided there would be no point. "What's this choice you speak of?" I asked.

He looked disappointed then, denied the chance to throw my "sorry" back in my teeth. "You have a choice," he said. "You may take your martyr's crown now . . . martyr's crown, by God!—you who wouldn't even pay the toll!—or you may go back and continue your mission."

"Martyr's crown. You mean—"

"Yes, the blessings of Paradise. Manna for breakfast. Water sweeter than wine to wash it down. Music by David and Asaph and all the greatest bards. Games on the grass with the Holy Innocents. Hunting with St. Sebastian, and your evening dinner cooked by St. Laurence. Then a friendly wrestling match between St. Augustine and Job, and dancing led by Mary and Martha. And with all this to do, you let it all slide just for the pleasure of gazing on the face of the Beloved."

"Or I can go back to Jaeder and live among people who hate me, going always in fear of my life?"

"And get rained on. You mustn't forget the rain. And wait till you spend a winter in Jaeder. You'll long for your old cell then, I promise you."

"Is this a test of some kind?"

"Everything's a test. Look, why should we waste time? I know your nature—you'll never choose a life of suffering, however good the cause, when you can have a martyr's crown at a bargain price. So I'll just go and tell them your decision. . . ." He moved toward the door.

"Hold on!" I cried. "You think I'm soft, don't you? You think I've no guts! Well roast you! Send me back to Jaeder. I'll earn my crown—what do you know of martyrdom, anyway—"

And a man came up from behind the abbot—an old, bald man with white hair and keys at his belt, and he reached his hands out to me . . .

I woke with a dull feeling that I'd been had.

Horns were blowing and people were running about, shouting and toting things, but I lay on my back in the mud, looking up at the clouds, trying to decide whether it would be wise to get up. My head ached, and I had an idea that if I tried to move my arms and legs I'd regret it.

At last a thrall running with an empty barrel tripped over my legs and sprawled on his face. I groaned and rolled half over, then sat up slowly. I felt as if my body'd been used as a roller for a ship's portage. The thrall frowned at me and got up and ran after his barrel, which was tumbling toward the low side of the steading.

Very slowly I got to my knees and, bracing myself against a wall, achieved my feet. Then I turned my head carefully to see what was happening.

The thralls and the women were carrying things—barrels, chests, bales of wool, hams—out the gate and down the lane. At its end they headed east, in an ant line toward the higher hills. The fifty or so warriors Erling had left behind were forming up near the gate, and a few bonders who must have been in the neighborhood when the call went out were being outfitted from the armory. Looking down toward the bay I could see the last of three ships beaching itself boldly on the sand, while men disembarked from the other two. There looked to be three or four hundred of them.

I found Thorkel among the warriors and said, "We don't stand a chance."

Thorkel's face was pale behind the nosepiece of his helmet. "All we need to do is slow them down. We're moving the people and treasure to the stronghold on the hill there—" he pointed east. I spotted it then—a tooth jutting up from one of the hills. Clusters of people were running there from every direction. "Hrorek has sent men to light the balefires, and we'll have the more distant bonders joining us with their spears soon after. The thing now is for you who aren't warriors to get to the stronghold fast, so we don't have to die in the open warding you."

"Ward yourself," said I. "I'm getting arms." I ran to the armory and took a leather shirt with iron plates, an axe, a shield, a spear and a helmet. I poked my head inside the church and noted thankfully that the priest's chest had been taken.

The steading was empty now, and we warriors felt it no shame to sprint for the stronghold, given the odds. It was no easy run uphill carrying iron, but our enemies had the same handicap. Those already inside closed the gates the moment the last of us got in.

We posted our little force around the walls. The stronghold was a very plain, circular pen with six-foot banked turf walls and a wooden parapet. One turf-roofed house stood in its center. I stood beside Thorkel on the south side, my spear ready for thrusting.

"A little time, that's all we need," he said between his teeth. "Time for the balefires to be lit and the farther-off bonders to come in. Do you see smoke anywhere? I'd think they'd have the fires going by now."

"Nothing," I said. "No sign of smoke."

"At least we can be grateful Aki won't burn the steading. If it took fire, Erling would see its smoke and come back."

"Is this Aki? The Opprostad hersir's brother?"

"Aye. I know his ships. The plan's plain enough. He sent those Orkneymen to attack Kolness and run away, expecting to draw Erling off and leave Sola to him. You've got to admire his courage, beaching his ships in the surf at Sola Bay. He came from the north, so he must have had his ships behind some island or in some inlet, waiting for Erling to pass."

"But how could he know Skjalg would be at Kolness?"

"That would be luck, from his point of view. Watch yourself."

An arrow flew past my ear with a little whup sound and a puff of air. Aki's men were taking their places behind their shields, or behind rocks and boulders, on all sides, their bowmen beginning their work from the cover.

We warded ourselves with our shields for the next few minutes. Someone began to scream from near the gate.

At last a man came around to us and said, "Eystein says that if they get over the wall, we're all to gather around the house to defend the women and children."

"Eystein?" said Thorkel. "What happened to Hrorek?"

"He didn't make it inside."

"God rest him," I said.

"God rest us all if those balefires aren't lit," said Thorkel. "Has anyone seen any sign?"

"They won't be lit," said the man. "One of the boys we sent to light them got back before they hemmed us in. He said the wood had been wet clean through to the ground. Aki has friends hereabouts."

"That's it then," said Thorkel. "It comes to us all in time. I'd thought to kiss a few more girls, but the Norns decide."

"That's not Christian talk," said I.

"I suppose when it comes to the point, a man finds out what he is. Sorry, Father."

I didn't know what to say to that. The other man went away.

We made them fight for it. Our cover was good, and we had plenty of arrows of our own, if not so many bowmen.

With true Norse perversity, the weather stayed clear. The clouds drifted off, the sun beat on us and dried us, and the women who came around with water moved slowly for fear of the arrows. When they got to us, they never had enough.

"Why doesn't Aki burn the steading?" I asked Thorkel.

"I told you. The fire would bring Erling back."

"Why should he care whether Erling comes back? He could sack the place, burn it to the ground, and be gone before Erling could get here."

"And have Erling come after him? He doesn't want Erling's goods—he wants Erling dead. Otherwise he could have done all this while we were voyaging. I suppose he plans to wait in the steading and surprise him when he comes home. He'd have the high ground then. He knows he can't beat Erling in a fair fight. That would be why he's sparing his men too. They could take us with a rush from all sides, but it would cost them."

"Perhaps. But if I were he I'd be wondering now whether to settle for what I could get."

"To be honest, so would I."

"In that case, there's a chance he might decide to leave us alone up here."

"Too late. The tide's ebbed since he beached his ships. And there's one more thing. He's sworn to take Halla Asmundsdatter to his bed, and we have her."

"So the abbot was right. He always said the lust of the flesh would be the death of me. I'd thought he meant my own flesh."

The shadows were lengthening when we heard someone cry, "The fire! The fire!"

I wondered if they'd decided to burn the steading at last, but someone shouted, "They've lit the Tjora balefire!"

"The jarl's balefire!" said Thorkel. I craned my neck and caught sight of the black smoke to the north.

"Thank God," I said.

"The man who talked the wardens into lighting it will hang."

"Well if I knew his name, I'd not betray it. We should get help now."

"And Aki knows it. So we can expect—here it comes!"

Then was a time. The arrows rained on us until our shields were hedgehogs' backs. One man after another screamed and lay screaming until the arrows finished him, for we were too busy to help. Aki's men attacked on all sides, and we thrust at them with spears, and when one went down another took his place, and if he warded well with his shield he got in close to the parapet and we had to discourage him with axes and swords. I had thought my shield light at first. Now it weighed like an anvil, and my axe like the earth.

The attack ended at last. We knew there'd be another soon, and we were weary and fewer than before. I wondered how long we'd been at it. The light night gave little clue.

"I need to talk to Eystein," I told Thorkel. "Where will I find him?"

"Probably near the gate. Don't go away long—I need you here."

"Maybe I can make it easier for us all," I said, and ran off, keeping to the cover of the wall.

I found Eystein huddled with some of his men, tying a bandage on his arm. He was dark for a Norseman. He scowled at me and said, "I'm busy, god-man."

I said, "Let me arm the thralls."

He said, "You're mad. We've never armed thralls in Jaeder."

"We'll all die if we do nothing."

"Thralls are no use with weapons. Besides, it's wrong. I won't save my life by wrong dealing."

"For God's sake—think of the shame to Aki! Think what men will say if he's beaten in part by thralls!"

Eystein scratched his beard. "I never looked at it that way," he said.

"Well think quickly."

"Oh, Hel," he said. "Do it. I'll probably be sorry, but right now I'd like to live long enough to be."

So I ran to the house and inside. The free women were huddled on the benches, watching a kneeling red-haired woman chant over a pile of sticks near the hearth. The thralls crouched near the entryway. They knelt when they saw me.

"Which of you want to be Aki's thralls?" I cried to them.

They exchanged dull looks.

"Who is willing to fight to keep a better master?" I said.

One man asked, "Do you mean, take arms?"

"Yes! Will you take them if they're offered?"

"You mean they'll let us fight?"

"Yes! But we've got to hurry!"

"What is this?" came a woman's voice from the other end. Ragna, Erling's mother, strode towards us.

"Eystein's agreed to it. We need every man we can get."

"You upturn the world, god-man!"

"Perhaps. But we'll never know if Aki wins through."

She stared at me. "If thralls can fight, so can women," she said. "There were shield-mays in olden times. None of us has the thews for such work, but we can cast a spear or draw a bow."

A cry of "Yes, yes!" came from the hearth. It was the woman with the sticks.

Now I was shocked, but I said, "All right, let's all do what we can," and led the lot of them out. I let them loose in the weapons pile and ran back to my place beside Thorkel.

"I've armed the thralls and some of the women. They'll be with us soon."

"Thor help us," said Thorkel.

When they made their next attack they got a surprise. The women and thralls had gotten bows, and a wealth of arrows lay on the ground. The shooting wasn't of the best, but there was plenty of it, and once again the attackers fell back, leaving a good number dead and wounded.

A wounded man lay near us outside the wall. He cried, "Thor! I'm belly-shot! I have the porridge sickness! Someone help me!"

A woman—somebody's wife judging from her headcloth, shouted back, "Good! I hope you suffer! I hope you linger days! I hope the ants find you and nibble away your eyes and your nose while you yet live! I hope Vikings come and rape your wife and take your children as thralls, and I hope you hear of it in Hel!"

Thorkel looked at me and said, "There are tales of women warriors in old times. Fortunately we're more civilized than that now. Or we were until you came."

When the light faded our bows were of less use. We were all up on the walls then, those who were left, and it was thrust and hack work, and Aki's men came on and on, and we were weary. The woman who had taunted the wounded man fell beside me with an axe-cloven skull, and I wanted to be sick. A man goes to war precisely not to watch his own women die.

Someone shouted, "The hall—it burns!" and we craned our necks a moment to see the smoke go up from Sola, and we knew we were down to the apple core.

Then Aki brought fire and broke the gate, and we fell back to make a shield wall before the house, and the women fled inside but most of the thrall men stayed with us. We stood shoulder to shoulder, arms aching, barely upholding our shields, and Aki's men's eyes glowed in the torchlight, and then falling sparks told us that the house was burning behind us, and the women and children ran out screaming to huddle behind our backs. And somebody began to sing a death-song, and all the men took it up, and I tried to follow it too. Consider it when your day comes. It helps a little.

And then there was a shout from somewhere, and Aki's men looked around, startled, and I saw a spearpoint stick out the belly of one of them.

And they fled before Erling Skjalgsson's warriors. And I saw Erling himself in the firelight, sword in hand, shouting, "Aki, you son of a troll, I'll have your liver for breakfast!"

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Framed