Marauders of Gor (35 page)

           
The Blue Tooth reached to brush back the hood. Ivar drew back his head.

           
Svein Blue Tooth laughed. "Do not fear, Champion," said he. "There is none here who believes your name, truly, to be Thorgeir of Ax Glacier."

           
Ivar Forkbeard shrugged and spread his hands, as though he had been found out, as though his ruse had failed.

           
I felt like beating his head in with the handle of an ax.

           
"What is your name, Champion?" asked Bera, the woman of Jarl Svein Blue Tooth.

           
Ivar was silent.

           
"That you have disguised yourself tells us," said the Blue Tooth, "that you are outlaw."

           
Ivar looked at him, as though startled at his perception.

           
"But the peace of the thing is upon you," said Svein Blue Tooth. "You are safe among us. Do not fear, great Champion. We meet here not to threaten you, but to do you honor. Be not afraid, for the peace of the thing is upon you, as on all men here."

           
"Great Jarl," said Ivar Forkbeard, "will you swear upon me the oath of peace, for the time of the thing, your personal oath, sworn upon the ring of the temple of Thor?"

           
"It is not necessary," said the Blue Tooth, "but, if you wish, this oath I will swear "

           
The Forkbeard bowed his head in humble petition.

           
The great ring of the temple of Thor, stained in the blood of the sacrificial ox, was brought. It was held in the hands of the high rune-priest of the thing. Svein Blue Tooth grasped it in both hands. "I swear upon you the peace of the thing," said he, "and I make this oath of peace, for the time of the thing, mine own as well."

           
I breathed more easily. I saw the Forkbeard's men about me visibly relax.
 
Only the Forkbeard did not seem satisfied.

           
"Swear, too," he suggested, "by the side of the ship, by the shield's rim, by the sword's edge."

           
Svein Blue Tooth looked at him, puzzled. "I so swear," he sald.

           
"And, too," begged the Forkbeard, "by the fires of your llearth, by the timbers of
 
the hall and the pillars of your
 
high seat."

           
"Come now!" said Svein Blue Tooth.

           
"MyJarl-" begged the Forkbeard.

           
"Very well," said the Blue Tooth, "I swear by the ship's side, the shield's rim, the sword's edge, the fires of my hearth, the timbers of my hall and the pillars of the high seat in my house."

           
He then made ready to brush back the hood, but the Forkbeard drew back once more.

           
"Will you swear, too," he asked, "by the grains of your fields, the boundary stones of your holdings, the locks on your chests and the salt on your table?"

           
"Yes, yes!" said Svein Blue Tooth, irritatedly. "I so swear.

           
The Forkbeard seemed lost in thought. I assumed he was trying to think of ways to strengthen the Blue Tooth's oath.
 
It seemed to me a mighty oath already. I thought it quite sufficient.
 

           
"And, too, I swear," said Svein Blue Tooth, "by the bronze of my ladles and the bottoms of my butter pansl"

           
"That will not be necessary," said the Forkbeard, generously.

           
"What is your name, Champion?" asked Svein Blue Tooth.

           
Ivar Forkbeard threw back his hood. "My name is Ivar Forkbeard," he said.

           
Chapter 13
      
Visitors in the hall of Svein Blue Tooth

           
Ihe hall of Svein Blue Tooth was of wood, and magnificent. The interior hall, not counting rooms leading from it on
 
various sides, or the balcony which lined it, leading to other rooms, was some forty feet high, and forty feet in width, some two hundred feet in length. It, on the western side, was lined with a great, long table. Behind this table, its back to the western wall, facing the length of the hall, facing east, was the high seat, or the rightful seat, the seat of the master of the house. It was wide enough for three or four men to sit together on it, and, as a great honor, sometimes others were invited to share the high seat. On each side of this high seat were two pillars, about eight inches in diameter, and some eight feet high, the high-seat pillars, or rightful-seat pillars. They marked the seat, or bench, which might be placed between them as the high seat, or rightful seat. These pillars had been carved by craftsmen in the time of Svein Blue Tooth's great grandfather, and bore the luck signs of his house. On each side of the high seat were long benches. Opposite, on the other side of the table, too, were long benches. A seat of honor, incidentally, was that opposite the high seat, where one might converse with the host. The high seat, though spoken of as "high," was the same height as the other benches. The men of Torvaldsland, thus, look across the table at one another, not one down upon the other. The seat is "high" in the sense of being a seat of great honor. There was, extending almost the length of the hall, a pit
 
for a "long fire" over which food was prepared for retainers. On the long sides of the hall, on the north and south, there were long tables, with benches. Salt, in its bowls on the tables, divided men into rankings. Those sitting above the salt were accorded greater prestige than those sitting below it. If one sat between the salt and the high seat, one sat "above" the salt; if one sat between the salt and the entrance to the hall, one sat "below" the salt. At the high-seat table, that at which the high seat sat, all counted as being "above the salt." Similarly, at the tables parallel to the highseat table, smaller tabies flanking the long fire on both sides, the tables nearest the high seat counted as being above the salt, those farthest away being below the salt. The division, was made approximately at the third of the hall closest to the high seat, but could shift, depending on the numbers of those in attendance worthy to be above the salt. The line, so to speak, imaginary to be sure, but definitely felt as a social reality, dividing those above from those below the salt, was uniformly "drawn" across the width of the hall. Thus, it was not the case that one at a long side table, who was above the salt, would be farther away from the high seat than one at one of the center tables, who was "below" the salt. In Ivar Forkbeard's hall, incidentally, the salt distinctions were not drawn; in his hall all being comrades in arms, all were "above the salt."
 
Svein Blue Tooth's holdings, on the other hand, were quite large and complexly organized. It would not have seemed proper, at least in the eyes of Svein Blue Tooth and others, for a high officer to sit at the same table with a fellow whose main occupation was supervising thralls in the tending of verr. Salt, incidentally, is obtained by the men of Torvaldsland, most commonly, from sea water or from the burning of seaweed. It is also, however, a trade commodity, and is sometimes taken in raids. The red and yellow salts of the south, some of which I saw on the tables, are not domestic to Torvaldsland. The arrangements of tables, incidentally, varies in different halls. I describe those appointments characterizing the hall of Blue Tooth. It is common, however, for the entrance of the hall to be oriented toward the morning sun, and for the high seat to face the entrance. None may enter without being seen from the high seat. Similarly, none are allowed to sit behind the high seat. In a rude country, these defensive measures are doubtless a sensible precaution. About the edges of the hall hung the shields of warriors, with their weapons. Even those who sat commonly at the center tables, and were warriors, kept their shields and spears at the wall. At night, each man would sleep in his furs behind the tables, under his weapons. High officers, of course, and the Blue Tooth, and members of his family, would retire to private rooms.

           
The hall was ornately carved, and, above the shields, decorated with cunningly sewn tapestries and hangings. On these were, usually, warlike scenes, or those dealing with ships and hunting. There was a lovely scene of the hunting of tabuk in a forest. Another tapestry, showing numerous ships, in a war fleet, dated from the time of the famine in Torvaldsland, a generation ago. That had been a time of great raids to the south.

           
Svein Blue Tooth had not been much pleased on the fields of the contests, on his purple-draped dais, when Ivar Forkbeard had announced his identity.

           
"Seize him and heat oil!" had been the first cry of the Blue Tooth.

           
"Your oath! Your oath!" had cried the horrified, startled rune-priests.

           
"Seize him!" screamed the Blue Tooth, but his men had, forcibly, restrained him, they glaring at Ivar Forkbeard with ill-disguised disapproval.

           
"You tricked me!" cried out the Blue Tooth.

           
"Yes," adrnitted the Forkbeard. "It is true."

           
Svein Blue Tooth, held in the arms of his men, struggled to unsheath his great sword of blued steel.

           
The high rune-priest of the thing interposed himself between the violent Blue Tooth and the Forkbeard, who was, innocently, regarding cloud formations.

           
The rune-priest held up the heavy, golden ring of Thor, the temple ring itself, stained in- the blood of the sacrificial ox. "On this ring you have sworn!" he cried.

           
"And by many other things as well," added the Forkbeard, unnecessarily to my mind.

           
The veins stood out on the forehead and neck of Svein Blue Tooth. He was a powerful man. It was not easy for his officers to restrain him. At last, eyes blazing, he subsided. "We will hold parley," he said.

           
He, with his high officers, retired to the back of the dais. Many heated words were passed between them. More than one cast a rather dark look in the direction of the Forkbeard, who, then, his disguise cast off, was cheerily waving to various acquaintances in the crowd.

           
"Long live the Forkbeard!" cried a man in the throng. The men-at-arms of Svein Blue Tooth stirred uneasily. They edged more closely about the dais. I ascended the steps of the dais and stood at the back of the Forkbeard, hand on the hilt of the sword, to protect him if necessary. "You are insane," I informed him. "Look," he said, "there is Hafnir of the Inlet of Iron Walls. I have not seen him since I was outlawed." "Good," I said. He waved to the man. "Ho, there, Hafnir!" he cried. "Yes, it is I, Ivar Forkbeard!" The men-at-arms ofSvein Blue Tooth were now uncornfortably close. I pushed away spear points with my left hand.

           
Meanwhile the debate at the back of the dais went on. The issues seemed reasonably clear, though I could catch only snatches of what was said; they concerned the pleasures of boiling the Forkbeard and his retinue alive as opposed to the dangerous precedent which rnight be set if the peace of the thing was sundered, and the loss of credit which might accrue to Svein Blue Tooth if he reneged on his pledged oaths, deep oaths publicly and voluntarily given. There were also considerations to the effect that the rune-priests would be distressed if the oaths were broken, and that the gods, too, might not look lightly upon such a violation of faith, and might, too, more seriously, evidence their displeasure by such tokens as blights, plagues, hurricanes and famines. Against these considerations it was argued that not even the gods thernselves could blarne Svein Blue Tooth, under these circumstances, for not honoring a piddling oath, extracted under false pretenses; one bold fellow even
 
went so far as to insist that, under these special circumstances, it was a solemn obligation incumbent on the Blue Tooth to renounce his oath and commit the Forkbeard and his followers, with the exception of slaves, who would be confiscated, to the oil pots. Fortunately, in the midst of his eloquence, this fellow sneezed, which omen at once, decisively, wiped away the weightiness of his point.

           
At last the Blue Tooth turned to face the Forkbeard. Svein's face was red with rage.

           
The high rune-priest lifted the sacred temple ring.

           
"The peace of the thing," said the Blue Tooth, "and the peace of my house, for the time of the thing, is upon you. This I have sworn. This I uphold."

           
There was much cheering. The Forkbeard beamed. "I knew it would be so, my Jarl," he said. The high rune-priest lowered the temple ring.

           
I rather admired Svein Blue Tooth. He was a man of his word. By his word he would stand, even though, as in the present case, any objective observer would have been forced to admit that his provocation to betray it, his temptation to betray it, must have been unusual in the extreme. In honor such a high jarl must set an example to the men of
 
Torvaldsland. He had, nobly, if not cheerfully, set the example.