The Extremely Epic Viking Tale of Yondersaay (27 page)

“Going down?” Mum asked.

“To prison,” Dad explained.

“Oh, he wouldn’t go to prison,” Mum said.

“He wouldn’t?”

“Of course not! You challenged him. I saw you. He’d be hailed a hero,” Mum said.

“Not much of a hero, let’s be honest,” Brokk put in. “He doesn’t seem to be the most threatening of adversaries.” Brokk turned to Dad. “No offense.”

“None taken.”

“We’re just saying,” Brokk said.

“Yeah, yeah,” Dad said.

“In fact,” Mum said, “I couldn’t really get out of marrying him after the heaving in two.”

“You would be so impressed by my manliness,” Brokk said, puffing out his chest.

Mum ignored him. “It would be bad form on my part. You know, he goes to all this trouble with the wooing and the combat and the heaving, and I reject him anyway? I’d get a reputation as impossible to please. It would be very bad form.”

“But if I walk away,” Dad said, “then it looks like I’ve given in, so you’re very unlikely to allow me to woo you.”

“It wouldn’t look so great,” Mum said. “I mean, why would I marry a coward?”

So,” Dad said, “if I go away, he’ll let you down, but he’ll be able to woo you and I won’t and you’ll probably marry him. And if I don’t go away, he’ll kill me, and you’ll definitely marry him?”

“That’s about right.”

“You see my dilemma?” Dad said.

“Not really.”

“What’s not to get?” Dad asked.

“I still don’t really get your concern,” Mum said. “For a start, who are you? What are you doing here? And, honestly, why are you so interested in me all of a sudden?”

Dad said nothing for a moment. “You’re my wife,” he said finally.

“You say I’m your wife; I say I’ve never seen you before. What is your real reason?”

Dad thought about what Mum had just asked him. He looked into Mum’s eyes and saw no recognition. He was about to speak when he saw that Brokk was looking intently at him.

“Perhaps I could have a word with you?” Dad said to Mum.

“I accept,” Mum said.

Nobody moved.

“In private,” Dad said.

Róisínín looked at Brokk; they both shrugged. Brokk held Mum out toward Dad and turned his head away from them. “Go ahead,” he called.

“This is the best you can do?” Dad asked Brokk.

“’Fraid so.”

“No chance you’ll let me take her over—”

Brokk was already shaking his head. “I’ll count to myself,” he said. “I won’t listen in, I promise. Not much, anyway. I shall count up in prime numbers.”

“Fine,” Dad said. “Wait. You can do that?”

“Certainly. It’s not hard.” Brokk started counting quietly to himself. “Two, three, five, seven, eleven, thirteen, seventeen—”

Alone at last, after a fashion, Dad looked into Mum’s face and said to her, “The first time I saw you, I knew instantly you were my Heart’s True Love. I have felt that love in my heart every single day since that first day. The real reason I’m here, is you.” Dad stood back and took off his coat. “I will do what you ask,” he said.

“What do you mean?” Mum asked.

“I will fight Mr. Muscle here,” Dad said.

“You will?” Mum asked. “Are you certain? You wouldn’t just rather go away while you still can?”

“I’m certain,” Dad said uncertainly.

Brokk was whispering to himself, “Four hundred and one, four hundred and nine”

“Lewis—I mean, Brokk,” Dad said. Brokk stopped counting to himself. “I wish to invite, or rather re-invite because I think I inadvertently did it earlier, you into combat for the hand of Róisín.”

“Róisínín,” Brokk said.

“Róisínín, whatever,” Dad said.

“No,” Brokk said. “Róisínín Rose White!”

“There’s going to be a combat! Ooh, I
love
a good combat.” Everyone turned around to see Aldis the Irregular returning with jugs of mead. “Hand to hand or battle-axes? Please say battle-axes.”

“I know what to do,” Dani said over her shoulder to Granny, as the circle of greenbottle-blue tarantulafish tightened around them.

“I’m all ears,” Granny said.

“I’m sure there’ll be something in my backpack to help us.” Dani swung her backpack down from her shoulders. “If I shine a torch in their eyes, maybe they’ll be blinded, or if I swing the rope round and round, it will keep them back for a while. And if that doesn’t work, I have my Swiss Army knife. They’d have to be pretty close for that to do any damage though.”

“All sterling ideas, my dear Dani. However …”

Dani looked into her backpack. Her face dropped. She lowered her bag, stood up straight, and swivelled to eye Granny. But Granny sensed it coming and quickly shuffled in a circle to keep her back to Dani. Dani took a big step around to face Granny, but Granny was too quick for her; she inched away again.

Dani grabbed her great-great-great-grandmother by the shoulders and yanked her around, so she could look her in the eye. “Kindly explain!” Dani said to Granny as she raised her open backpack and shoved it under Granny’s nose.

Granny looked into the backpack.

“Please tell me my matches and my rope and my Swiss Army knife are underneath all this,” Dani said as she lifted out handfuls of mince pies and sandwiches and sausage rolls.

“There wasn’t enough space for everything,” Granny said, throwing her hands up. “I made room for the essentials.”

“And what exactly is essential about mini quiches?” Dani said, her voice starting to get high-pitched again. “You have enough food in here to last us a week! Where did you put everything else?”

“In the cupboard under the stairs.”

Furious, Dani grabbed a fistful of sausage rolls, wound her arm around and around like an Olympic shot putter, and said, “What good are they to anyone under the stairs?” as she flung them away from her in a rage.

Dani immediately noticed a vicious-looking tarantulafish react by snarling and snapping the things on its face. Coiling back on its back legs, it bounded straight for Dani.

Dani sprang away in terror. Granny caught Dani in her arms. They both stood there with their eyes tightly shut thinking this was it, this was the end.

“Bloody mini quiches,” Dani mumbled, opening her eyes to see that the bounding tarantulafish was circling the food she had flung. It wasn’t snarling and snapping at Dani or Granny. It was snarling and snapping at another even bigger, bluer tarantulafish. “They’re getting ready to fight each other for the food!”

“Quick,” Granny said, reaching deep into Dani’s backpack, “throw more!” And Granny and Dani threw handfuls of sausage rolls and mini quiches and ham sandwiches into the circle of tarantulafish. In less than a minute, all the tarantulafish were busy eating or fighting each other over the food.

Quickly and quietly, Dani and Granny tiptoed between clumps of tarantulafish. As soon as they were clear, they sprinted up the beach, over the dunes, and onto the slope at the bottom of Volcano Mount Violaceous.

“I think we are being followed,” Granny said as she looked back over her shoulder. She was right; a lone tarantulafish scrambled after them across the beach, hissing and baring its fangs. It was nimble … and fast.

“Quick, in here!” Dani said as she dove into a cave opening behind a large shrubbery.

Granny dove in after her. “Let’s hope they don’t have good eyesight,” Granny said. Dani and Granny sat as quietly as they could in the mouth of the cave. They saw the tarantulafish’s legs before they saw its head. It was creeping quickly but silently over the top of the sand dune. Its slow movements were purposeful and elegant. It reached one leg languidly out and rested it down before stretching out another slim leg. The tarantulafish cast about in all directions, lowering its head slowly, and dreamily raising it up again.

“He seems to be following a scent,” Dani gasped and watched as the tarantulafish effortlessly picked up speed again. “Maybe he’s picked up Hamish’s scent. Thanks goodness he’s a butcher. He reeks of meat.”

“Oh, no. Hamish has Ruairi!” Granny said.

The tarantulafish picked its way over the boulders and rocks at the base of the volcano and began a languorous climb.

“It’s going up the mountain!” Granny said. “In that case, I have an idea. When Eoin Lerwick and I were little, we used to spend a lot of time in these caves.” Granny turned around and squinted into the cave. “This one leads right to the top of the mountain.”

“Are you sure, Granny? We don’t have time to make mistakes. Rarelief said that Ruairi would be sacrificed at sundown. That must be only an hour or two away.”

“I’m sure, I remember. And the firemen often do their drills in this cave. Come on. Let’s go.” Granny walked forward into the cave.

“You know, my rope would have come in very handy around about now. We could have tied one end to the shrubbery and unrolled it as we walked so we could always find our way back.” Dani thought for a minute. “I suppose we could drop bits of food every few minutes.”

“Not on your life,” Granny said. “That would be a total waste. Besides, have you never heard of Hansel and Gretel? What if another tarantulafish made its way up here and started following the food trail? We’d be leading him right to us, and in a tunnel this narrow, we’d have no escape.”

“Fair point. Okay. Let’s grab handfuls of these little flowers from the entrance to the cave and drop one every bit of the way. They’re unlikely to get eaten.”

“That just might work,” Granny said. “Stuff as many as you can into your pockets and let’s go.”

“Are you ready?” Aldis the Irregular shouted to the two men standing on opposite sides of the clearing. Brokk had oiled himself up in preparation for the fight. He had fastened a chest plate over his muscles and was wearing a bejewelled helmet. He paced over and back, grumbling and growling to himself, getting mentally prepared for battle. He swung his battle-ax in the air and caught it every time without even looking at it. Clearly, he had done this before.

Dad had changed into Brokk’s spare set of Viking clothes. They were more than a little big for him. Brokk’s friend, Thrand, had lent Dad a chest plate and a helmet, but Dad was not wearing the helmet. When he first put it on, it came right down over his eyes. On balance, he decided it would be safer to have no head protection and the ability to see what was going on. His borrowed battle-ax was resting on the ground beside him. He was not pacing up and down grumbling and growling to himself.

Aldis, the referee, and Mum, the wooee, sat on a boulder. The combat would take place around it.

The islanders loved a good fight, so a small crowd had gathered. A man was taking bets, not on who would win, as no one was backing Dad the Limp and Dripping. Nor were they betting on how quickly Brokk would win; no one would bet on Dad lasting more than the time it took Brokk to stride across the field of play and heave him in two, and no one would bet on that being more than fifteen seconds. The bets were mostly related to the amount of blood and guts that would spew from Dad’s gaping wounds, the trajectory of the spewing blood and guts, and the volume and quantity of Dad’s screeches.

Some people bet on Dad running away and Brokk having to run after him for a few seconds before bringing him back to the clearing and heaving him in two with blood and guts spewing from his gaping wounds.

Aldis was warming up the crowd by shouting out a brief summary of Brokk’s combat record. She paraded up and down the clearing, calling out the names of Brokk’s defeated foes, counting them off on her fingers. When she ran out of fingers, she drew lines in the snow with a twig. Dad could see Aldis adding line after line after line on the ground and was getting nervous. The crowd was looking at Brokk, who was now doing stretches and performing poses as part of his precombat routine.

“It’s really going to happen, Róisín,” Dad said. “If this is all a big joke, I get it, it’s hilarious, but I think now is the time for you to let everyone know so we can all go home in one piece.”

“It’s not a joke,” Mum said.

“If it’s not a joke, that’s fine; it’s a lesson. You’re teaching me a lesson, and yes indeed, I get it. Lesson learned. Time to pull the plug now, Róisín. I’ve behaved badly. I’m very sorry. I won’t do it again.”