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CHAPTER V

We ran back to the steading to save the hall, but only made it in time to see the last rafters fall. Once the ruin was complete the windows of heaven opened and soaked us all with rain. Not much was saved there, but most of the stone and turf buildings suffered little damage. My church was fine. I trudged around with some women and thralls getting our wounded under a roof, while other women went with knives and cut the throats of Aki's fallen. I bound limbs and fed leek porridge to those with stomach wounds, so we could tell by smell if the gut was pierced. Erling organized the household to march over to Somme, which, like many farms in the neighborhood, was his property. Aki and his men who still walked were locked in a storehouse there.

I got a bed on a bench among the warriors. I was wearier than I'd ever been in my life, but I couldn't sleep. It was the same all around me. The warriors, especially those who'd defended the stronghold, were whispering to each other in the dark, telling what they'd done and what they'd seen done, speculating on what would have happened if. They'd been through something they'd tell their grandchildren of, and they wanted to know how it would sound. They'd been given a little horrible beast to carry about with them, and they wanted to build it a cage so they could scare the girls without anyone getting bitten.

An older man named Bergthor, lying next to me, was composing a poem. I couldn't tell you what it said—the usual nonsense about "the flame of the wound" and "Atli's devourer," but I listened to him anyway, and in time I must have slept.

Somebody kicked me awake no more than two minutes later, saying, "Get up or we'll sling you out. The jarl's come to breakfast."

I shook my head, stiff everywhere and feeling five hundred years old. "The jarl?" I asked.

"Jarl Haakon, lord of Norway. He was sailing south, saw the balefire, and now he wants an explanation. So you'd better think of one."

"Me? I didn't start any fires."

"No, but your thrall did. The man they call Lemming. He's under close guard now. By our law the master answers for his thrall's deeds."

Thrall women were setting up the tables, and I pushed by them as I limped out in the yard to find Erling.

Erling was busy, in counsel with a short, broad, brown-haired older man in a rich green cloak whom I took to be Jarl Haakon. They were headed for the hall, followed by the jarl's bodyguard, and when Erling saw me he put a finger to his lips, which advice I heeded. I watched them go inside, then followed, taking a new seat like the rest of the household across the hall from where we usually sat (or would have if this had been our own hall), since Haakon had been given the high seat. The men we'd displaced moved to a new bench across the table from us. A fat old thrall in a fine blue shirt hovered at the jarl's elbow, running errands for him and shouting commands to other thralls. I did not join the toasts to Thor, Odin and Frey which began the meal, but I drank when Erling and Haakon skoaled each other, and ate some breakfast in spite of my nerves and the pain I got when I tried to raise my arms. I hadn't eaten since the morning before. Erling whispered, "You'll be all right, Father. Just let me talk."

I looked around and missed a face I wanted. "Where's Thorkel?" I asked.

"Didn't you know? He died at the stronghold last night."

"Poor lad. I lost sight of him after we fell back from the wall. I'll bury you as a Christian, Thorkel, and let God judge."

"What's that?"

"Just a thing between us two. By the way, I was wondering—did you actually find the Vikings at Soknasund?"

"Oh aye. We were almost on them when someone saw the fire and we headed home instead. I don't care about them—they were only tools."

"Then Soti is a true seer."

"Yes, though his wife has the real sight. The women usually do."

"But he didn't see the greatest danger."

"No. And he had no good explanation."

"That's the trouble with seers, my lord. They see only what the Devil wants known."

The women of the household mingled with the guests, as was custom, but I missed Halla and Erling's sisters. I asked Erling whether they had come to harm.

"None at all," he said, "and I mean to keep it that way."

Jarl Haakon called across the fire, "Well then, Erling, what's to be done about my balefire? This thrall of yours attacked the wardens when they demanded proper tokens, and they've both got broken bones. I've had to send ships back up the coast to call off the levies, and it's me they'll blame for lost field time."

"In my view," said Erling, "the lighting was justified. This was not a simple strandhogg, with a few Vikings slaughtering cattle and stealing thralls. This was a cold stab at my authority, and so the authority of every lawful lord in the land."

"Fine words," said Haakon, "but the kings and landed men of Norway have been stealing each other's rule since Freya was a virgin. That's how your grandfather got Sola. Aki wants satisfaction for the lands your father took. You'd do the same."

"I'd not do it by stealth."

"There's nothing wrong with stealth. There is something wrong with using my balefire for private warfare. That must be paid for. Who owns the thrall?"

"My priest, Father Aillil."

"A Christian priest? That bull-calf there? It gets worse and worse. All right, god-man—what do you have to say for yourself?"

"My lord," I said, "I've seen the thrall but once in my life, and at the time he was trying to break my neck. He was given me as a gift only yesterday, and he's never even slept under my roof. I might add that I never asked for him. I'd as soon ask for a boil."

"Aye, I've never yet heard a Christian priest own the blame for anything."

"I can swear that he tells the truth, my lord," said Erling.

I said, "There's one thing I'd like to say though." Erling shot me a cautioning glance. "The thrall did his best to protect his master's home and person. For that he should be rewarded, not punished. But if you must punish him, you should know that it's his wish to hang."

"What?"

"That's why they call him Lemming, my lord. He's been trying for years, they tell me, to get himself hanged. In a way, to hang him would be to reward him."

Haakon said, "Hmm, I suppose we could flay him . . ."

Erling said, "My lord, this trouble over a thrall is beneath your notice. If you leave him to me, I promise he'll get a rope around his neck."

"Yes, all right, as long as it's done."

"Good, then may I say that I rejoice the fire was lit?"

"What do you mean?"

"So that you might be here for my father's and brother's grave-ale. You and father were always friends. And you can pass judgment on Aki, a matter suitable to your rank."

Jarl Haakon leaned back in his seat. "I wonder if I wouldn't be better served were it Aki hosting me now."

I buried the Christian dead the next day, doing the service as best I could from memory and filling the rest out, I'm afraid, with plain mumbo jumbo. At the same time Erling was sending messengers with invitations to his father's and brother's funeral, a week hence. While they waited he spent handsomely on hospitality for the jarl. I don't think the man was once without a full ale-horn the whole week. We must have all been a nuisance to Odvin, the man who lived at Somme with his family and had to let the great folk use all his best beds, but he was a tenant after all and had no say. Every morning Erling and I and a few others trooped up to the church before breakfast, and I gave them mass, and I said vespers each night.

One of those first evenings I stepped out to take the air. I recognized one of Erling's thralls, a lad named Enda, who came to me and said, "Father, there's trouble among the slaves."

"What trouble, son?"

"It's Kark, the jarl's slave." He meant the fat fellow who followed Haakon like a dog. "He's making hell for the girls. He bullies them and handles them, and makes them lie with him, and then brags about it afterward. The men he beats for the least thing, and no one dares cross him, because the jarl holds him so dear."

"It's often the way, I'm afraid, with us who sit at the world's bottom. When we find someone to spit on, we make the most of it. But I don't know what I can do. This Kark is no Christian; he won't heed me."

"That's just it, Father. He fears you. Everyone's marked it. He makes the sign against the evil eye whenever he sees you. You're magic to him. He thinks you're not a man and not a woman, begging your pardon, and you speak with men long dead through books, and commune with spirits in a strange tongue. We thought you might put the fear of God in him."

The idea had charm. I went with Enda to one of the thrall houses.

"They say he was born on the same day as the jarl, and he's been with him all his life. The jarl treats him like a pet. It's a bitter thing, Father, to be bullied by one who's no better than you."

"Lad," I said, "don't tell anyone I said so, but I've been a slave and I've been free, and the only things I've seen to make one man better than another are how he thinks of himself, and how he treats others."

"I don't follow. You can't mean I'm as good as my lord Erling?"

"Well no, hardly anyone is that . . ."

We found Kark lying in a corner of the house with one hand under the dress of a sobbing girl. I held my lamp near my face and said, "Morituri te salutamus!" in my most sepulchral voice.

Kark looked up at me with round eyes. I've heard many tales told of Kark in the years since, and with each telling he grows more stunted and twisted and dark and ugly, the picture of a thrall as the Norse see them. I will do him justice. He was one of the fairest men for his age I'd seen in Norway, with snow-white hair and great blue eyes, pretty as a woman almost.

"Arma virumque cano!" I intoned.

He let go the girl now, and cowered in the corner.

"Vox clamantis in deserto!"

The wretch went into a fit. He groveled at my feet, and I had to put a hand on him to stop him screeching. This only made it worse, and he scrambled away, cringing back in the corner with his arms over his face.

It had been too easy. I said, "Now leave the other thralls alone, my lad. And if you tattle to your master, I'll turn you into a herring."

I'd been right, I thought as I went back to the hall. There was real pleasure in finding somebody to spit on.

A few days later the guests began to arrive. Chief among them was the head of the family, Olmod Karisson, an actual son of the famous Horda-Kari. He was, I think, the oldest man I had ever seen, with a hairless head as fragile-looking as an eggshell, and a long white beard. They had to carry him on a litter. But, unlike his late kinsman Thorolf Skjalg (whose name had meant "squinter"), his pale blue eyes saw everything. He sat in his place next to Erling, eating little, drinking less, but marking each man and all his actions. It seemed to me he spent no little time watching Erling.

With him came his son Askel, a big, laughing, easygoing fellow whom all liked but no one minded much. And Askel's son Aslak, a pimply, red-haired boy at the teetery age of about fifteen summers. He had the kind of meager mouth you often see on red-haired men for some reason, and he watched Erling with a dog's worship.

There were other relations too, all great men at home, but I have less cause to remember them.

The first day of the feast, after they had laid Thorolf Skjalg and Aslak Skjalgsson in their graves with proper heathen rigmarole and the sacrifice of two horses and three dogs, Olmod crooked a finger to me and I went up and sat by him.

"God-man, I have a question about your religion."

"I'll answer as best I can, my lord."

"I'm told that Christians are expected to love their enemies. Doesn't that make them unfit to be lords and wage war?"

"Not at all, my lord. Think of Charlemagne, and Alfred of England, and Brian Boru. A Christian is commanded to do as he would be done by. Would any lord wish other lords to stop making war? Of course not. It would take half the fun out of life. Besides, our scriptures say that the king bears the sword, for the punishment of evildoers."

"Good. That's useful information."

"Are you thinking of becoming a Christian, my lord?"

"Don't talk hog slop."

On that first day Erling was expected to sit on the pedestal of the high seat (in this case the guest seat) until he had drunk a toast to his father's memory and made a vow. The vow he made surprised everyone.

"I have a debt to repay," he said. "I am told that my thralls helped save Sola for me. Therefore I vow that every thrall I own will be given the chance to earn his freedom."

A buzzing went around the hall. Most people liked this vow little, but the thralls serving us looked suddenly glad. Olmod stared, but from where I sat (further down the bench than usual, out of deference to the great folk) I could not see his expression.

At one point I overheard Olmod saying to Erling, who sat now in his father's seat, "You know how to host great men, my kinsman. It seems to me Jarl Haakon's ale is stronger than lesser men's, and your servants keep his horn ever filled."

Erling smiled and said, "Yes, great lords must be treated as fits their dignity."

I think that by the third day of the feast Jarl Haakon had forgotten all about the balefire.

That was the day one of Erling's men came in and stepped up by his seat to whisper in his ear. Without a word, Erling rose and went out. The messenger went to each of his fellow bullyboys in turn, and they all went out the same way.

They were gone some time.

When Erling returned it was with three tall, well-dressed men. They stood together before Jarl Haakon.

"My lord Haakon," said Erling, "may I present Sigurd, Jostein and Thorkel, the Erik Bjodaskalle of Opprostad?"

"I know them well," said the jarl, looking over the rim of his horn. "You are the brothers of Aki."

"They came under the shield of peace," said Erling. "But they came with three ships."

"I care nothing for their ships. Where I guest there is peace by law."

"We cannot promise future peace, though, unless our brother is returned to us," said Sigurd, the oldest, a very handsome man approaching middle age who wore wide Russian breeches. His only defect was a head too large for his body, but it was a fine-looking head. "He was mad to go out as he did, but he's our brother, and we'll not leave him to the mercy of the son of Thorolf Skjalg. We wish to see him now, and make some kind of peace settlement."

"See him you shall," said Haakon. "It's time I judged this business of arson and murder."

Erling motioned to one of his bullyboys, who went out and came back in a few minutes with Aki, his red tunic dirty and torn, but well cared-for and more sober than we. He was a thick-bodied man with a dark blond beard and eyes full of hate for Erling.

"Aki is my brother, and I am a hersir," said Sigurd. "I demand to know why he is held like a thrall. The law says that a man can be killed when caught in the act of arson, but not held for killing later."

Jarl Haakon stood up, swayed and sat down again. "The matter here is not arson, or not arson only. It is murder. The murder of a hersir. For common men we have Things where free men can judge cases. But in these matters of war, between landed men, it falls to the lord of the land to mediate. I am the lord of the land."

The brothers bowed. "We gladly submit to the wisdom of such a man as you, Lord Haakon."

"You sodding well had better. What have you to say for yourself, Aki? By what right did you kill my friend Thorolf Skjalg and his son, and burn the hall at Sola, and try to take Erling's inheritance?"

"By the same right whereby Ogmund Karisson and Thorolf Skjalg took our farms of Oksnevad and Figgjo, to name but two," said Aki.

"My lord," said Erling, "the difference lies in this—that we won the fights, thus proving our rights before heaven. He who loses the fight loses his rights. So it has always been. So it is with Aki."

"Don't listen to this Christian!" shouted Aki. "How long do you think you can trust him, when there are those in the land who wish to turn you out and put a cross-man in your place? Whose side do you think he'd take, sitting there with his magic-man on the same bench?"

The jarl's eyes narrowed as he looked at Erling, and at me, and at the brothers. "I've heard that you're a Christian too now, Sigurd," he said, "and that you have famous friends."

"I claim the right to judgment by duel!" cried Aki. "I will meet Erling Skjalgsson in holmganga!"

"So let it be," said Jarl Haakon.

"What's this holmganga?" I asked Erling as we left the hall. The skies were cloudy, but it hadn't started raining yet.

"A formal duel. We fight in a marked space, and we each get three shields. The man who first draws blood can claim victory, but I think neither of us will settle for that."

"Can you take him?"

"On my worst day. I only wish I hadn't had so much to drink."

He went to put his armor on, and Aki was taken to the armory to get his own back. We trooped out to a nearby meadow, well grazed, where Erling's men cleared all the stones and dung out of a space about ten feet through, laid a large cloak on it and set stones to hold down the corners, then dug three furrows around the edges to make boundaries. Jarl Haakon examined the field and pronounced it acceptable. Erling and Aki took their places on opposite sides, each with a man to keep his extra shields. They had to wait a bit while Olmod was borne up on his litter.

Haakon called for a horn and held it up before us all.

"I hallow this horn to the honor of Thor, guardian of justice. May he watch over this ground, and make the right victorious. Skoal!"

The men cried, "Skoal!" and Haakon drank, then passed the horn to Erling and to Aki. Erling made the sign of the cross over it before drinking.

"Aki," he said, "I offer you peace before this goes further. Admit my rights and swear to let me and mine alone, and you may go home with your men and ships."

"Hear how the coward scrabbles for a bolthole, now that he faces the avenger! Don't think to talk your way out today, Erling Skjalgsson! I've sworn to drink your blood and bed Halla Asmundsdatter. Prepare to meet your southland god!"

They stepped onto the cloak. They took each other's measure, feinting and circling, testing reach and quickness.

"Strike then!" said Aki. "The first blow is yours as the challenged! Don't keep me waiting!"

The next thing I knew, Aki's head was flying through the air, and his body, spouting blood, was collapsed on the cloak with his shattered shield on top of it. The head rolled a bit and came to rest not far from my feet. It had been the fastest thing I'd ever seen.

The men cheered, and Erling took his helmet off.

"We have seen the judgment of Thor!" shouted Jarl Haakon. "I declare before all men that the death of Thorolf shall cancel the death of Aki, and no mansbot may be demanded for this day's business. Furthermore, two of Aki's ships will be forfeit—the first to Erling, for his losses, the second to me for the troubling of the peace. Aki's men may go home in the third. Last of all, the sons of Erik will pay a fine of thirty-six aurar for the death of Aslak Skjalgsson. Let this be the end of the matter!"

Erling's men mobbed him and lifted him to their shoulders while Aki's brothers wrapped the body in the cloak and the Horder chiefs gathered around Olmod's litter, speaking in low voices.

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Framed