The Long Hunt (The Strongbow Saga) (11 page)

I began using my small-axe to cut along the spine on either side, chopping the ribs loose. "Those," Cullain told me, "the ribs—we will have to just cut them into sections, and throw them into the pot bones and all."

"What will you do with the backbone?" Bjorgolf asked.

Cullain glanced up at him. "I have no plans for it."

Bjorgolf glanced at his brother, who nodded. "May we have it?" he said. "We'll dig a trench on the beach, in the shallows, and leave the backbone in the bottom. Perhaps it will catch us some crabs, or maybe even a halibut."

Cullain shrugged. I had finished chopping through the ribs. Taking his shrug as a yes, I held up the bloody backbone, the ram's head still attached.

"Not the head," Torvald told me. "Cut it off and give it to me. This ram was a sacrifice. It belongs to the gods. It is fitting that we honor the ram and the sacrifice by eating its meat. But to use its head as bait for crabs might offend the gods."

I used the edge of my small-axe to slice around the spine, between two bones in the neck, then twisted the head, breaking it free.

"What will you do with it?" I asked, as I passed the ram's head to Torvald.

"I will make a cairn of stones at the water's edge and place the head upon it, and leave it there for the gods."

"And crabs will still eat it, but we will not catch the crabs," Bjorgolf muttered.

I was surprised. Torvald had never struck me as a religious man. Had the earlier talk of omens and death unnerved him, too, despite his show of bravado?

*   *   *

Darkness fell while the stew was cooking. Once the vegetables began to show signs of softening, Cullain and Regin had added handfuls of barley to the pots, to thicken the contents and add heartiness. While we waited, Hastein, Hrodgar and Stig spread out a thick bearskin on the beach to sit on, and built a small fire in front of it. They poured cups of wine from a small cask Hastein had brought ashore and tapped, and after Cullain brought them a pottery bowl filled with the ram's liver, which he had sliced into thin strips, they skewered pieces on sticks and roasted them over the flames of their fire, as the members of the two crews watched hungrily.

In anticipation of the coming meal, Torvald, Tore, and I had waded back out to the
Gull
's gangplank and had fetched our bowls and cups from our sea chests aboard ship. Torvald's stomach was growling by now with hunger, and when he saw Cullain deliver the bowl of sheep's liver to Hastein and Stig, he let out a loud sigh, then walked over to the bearskin and sat down.

"I will join you. Thank you," he said. Hastein looked at him with his eyebrows raised, but said nothing. Their years together and their friendship allowed Torvald certain liberties with the jarl that no other man would dare assert.

Torvald held the small cask upright while he pulled the stopper from the bung hole, then he tilted it and poured himself a cup of wine. He took a long draught, sighed with pleasure, and refilled his cup. "Ale is good, very good, and well-brewed mead has a strength to it that no other drink can match. But wine…ah, wine!"

"I suppose you will want some of the liver, too?" Hastein said.

Torvald nodded his head and smiled. "Why, yes. I thank you." Turning to me, he said, "Halfdan, I need a skewer. Will you find me a slender branch from the firewood pile?"

Stig rolled his eyes. Hastein shook his head, grinning, then to my surprise, said, "Bring two skewers, Halfdan, and join us."

"Fill your cup," Hastein said, after I'd sat myself down on the bearskin. Torvald held out his hand, took my cup, and filled it for me. As I took it back, Hastein began.

"I have been wanting to speak with you about this. I think that what you did— freeing the slaves—was very unwise. I cannot understand why you did it. Admittedly you can be rash at times, but normally I do not consider you a fool."

I had not thought that Hastein would approve. In his eyes, no doubt it seemed I was giving up valuable property for no reason. But to call me a fool, as he seemed to be doing, was harsh. I had not expected such bluntness, and was taken aback by it.

"Are you saying that you think me a fool?" I asked him.

"Until now, I have not," he replied. "I am hoping you can persuade me that in this instance, you were not."

I was silent for a long time, searching my mind for what to say, while Hastein stared at me expectantly. Finally, because I could think of nothing better to say, I told him simply, "I do not expect you to understand."

"That is your answer? It is certain I will not, if you do not even attempt to explain."

How do you make a man who has known only privilege his entire life understand how it feels to be the property of another?

"What would be the most bitter thing that could befall you?" I asked him.

Hastein thought briefly, then answered, "To lose my honor. A man without honor is not a man at all."

Stig nodded in agreement. "Aye," he said. "I would rather lose my life than my honor."

"Does a sheep on the farm have any honor?" I asked. "Does a pig?"

"That is a foolish question," Hastein snapped. "They are not men. They are beasts."

"And what, then, is a slave? Surely not a man, with honor. For he is just property, is he not? Nothing more than another beast on the farm."

Torvald nodded his head in agreement, and poured himself another cup of wine. Hastein began stroking his beard with one hand, and his eyes narrowed as he stared at me. "What you say is true, and yet it also is not," he said.

Stig frowned. "How so?"

"A thrall may be property, but he is more than a beast. Halfdan was a slave. Yet he clearly is a man who possesses a strong sense of honor. Was his honor suddenly born in him after he was set free, or was it there all along?" Hastein replied.

"Perhaps Halfdan is different, and that is why the Norns chose to weave his fate in such a way that he became free," Torvald suggested. "Perhaps he was not supposed to be a slave. Perhaps he is different."

"Perhaps I am not," I said.

Just then, a shout came from the hill above us, where the sentries were posted. "Jarl Hastein!  I see torches. Riders are approaching."

We all scrambled to our feet. Hastein and Stig picked up their swords, which had been lying on the bearskin beside them, and slipped their baldrics over their shoulders.

"We will speak more of this later," Hastein said to me. "I can see where you are leading me. I still do not understand why you did what you did, but your words are clever. They certainly are not those of a fool."

A party of riders appeared above us on the edge of the hill overlooking the beach. Six of them were armored with mail brynies and helms, and had shields slung across their backs. They were carrying torches to light their way, for the sky was cloudy and the night dark. The seventh, their leader, wore no armor and was unarmed save for a sword he wore, carried like Hastein's and Stig's by a baldric slung over his right shoulder, that held the blade in its scabbard suspended at his left hip. While his guard sat upon their horses watching, lined across the hill crest, he guided his mount down the slope to the beach, then walked it over to where we were gathered.

"My name is Ragnvald," he said. "I serve Horik, King of the Danes. I am one of his captains who stand watch over the lands of Sjaelland. My men reported to me that your two ships made camp here, and that they look to be carrying no cargo save warriors. I would know your purpose."

"I am a Dane," Hastein replied. "My name is Hastein. I am jarl over the lands around the Limfjord, in the north of Jutland, and I rule them for the king."

Ragnvald nodded. "My guards described the banner you flew as you approached their post. I thank you for that courtesy. What they described sounded to me like the gull banner of Jarl Hastein. I had thought they must be mistaken, but it appears it is I who was." He swung his right leg up over his horse's neck, and slid to the ground. Extending his right arm toward Hastein, he said, "Welcome, Jarl Hastein, to Sjaelland."

Hastein extended his own arm and the two men clasped wrists. "I thank you," he said. "Cullain, fetch another cup for our guest." To Ragnvald, he added, "We are drinking wine from Frankia. You must join us. And although we have but simple fare to dine on this evening, you and your men are welcome to share it."

Cullain reached into the plain wooden chest in which he kept his cooking gear and withdrew a pottery cup from it. After filling it from the small cask, which Torvald held for him, he handed the cup of wine to Hastein, who presented it in turn to Ragnvald.

After taking a drink, Ragnvald said, "It is good. I thank you. We do not often get wine out here. As for the meal, I thank you for your offer, but will decline. My lands and longhouse are located at the head of this bay, and our womenfolk have food cooking for us there. We had no time to prepare for unexpected guests. But tomorrow, I would honor so illustrious a visitor to these lands with a feast, if you and your men will join us. It is my understanding that you have just recently returned from western Frankia. We would enjoy hearing more about the campaign there. So far we have heard just bits and pieces, related by a messenger from the king who was at the feasts held when Ragnar visited."

I was surprised to hear that Ragnar had already visited King Horik. Although his sons, Ivar and Bjorn, had stayed at Hastein's estate up on the Limfjord for our entire three day layover upon returning from Frankia, and had accompanied us from there down to Hrorik's estate, Ragnar had left Hastein's lands after only a single night, saying he had urgent business to attend to. Torvald nudged me in the ribs with his elbow, and leaning over, whispered—in a voice loud enough that all who were near could hear— "Ragnar wastes no time spreading tales of his own successes." Hastein turned and scowled at him, then turned back to Ragnvald.

"Alas," Hastein responded, "I thank you for your generous offer of hospitality, but I fear we will not be able to feast with you. We must sail on tomorrow, at first light."

"If I may ask," Ragnvald said, "What brings you here? King Horik will want to know, when he hears that you have passed this way. The winter approaches, and the raiding season is over. And from what Ragnar has told the king of the campaign in Frankia, all who fought there should have little need to seek further success this season."

"The gods did in truth grant us a great victory in Frankia," Hastein said. It was an answer leaving much unanswered.

When Hastein did not seem inclined to say more, Ragnvald prodded, "May I convey any message from you to the king?"

Hastein shook his head. "No, thank you," he said.

Ragnvald said nothing further, but stared at Hastein expectantly.  After a time, the silence grew awkward.

"We are seeking some men," Hastein finally said. "They were traveling in two ships. They may have passed this way." It surprised me that he was being so unforthcoming.

"Many ships pass this way," Ragnvald responded. "Many pause their voyage here, in this bay, either before sailing down through the great belt, or upon leaving it when coming up from the south. As to two particular ships, it would be hard to say without knowing more."

Turning to me, Hastein said, "Describe them for him."

"Both are longships. One has a dragon's head carved like the head of an eagle, painted red, with a golden beak. She has sixteen pairs of oars. The other ship is smaller, fourteen pairs, and her dragon's head is gilded, and carved like the head of a fierce fighting stallion."

Ragnvald shrugged, but said nothing.

"Both ships would have been manned by very light crews," Hastein added.

Ragnvald shrugged again. "As I have said, many ships pass this way. Were these men friends of yours?" Now it was he who was offering little with his words. I suspected he had taken offence at Hastein's reticence.

"If they passed this way, it would have been roughly ten days ago." Hastein added. He seemed determined to convey as little information as possible. I did not understand why. It would be very helpful to know if Toke had sailed this way.

"The larger ship's captain is a very big man—tall, and strongly built," I volunteered. "His hair and beard are black, and he wears them long. He often wears a sleeveless outer tunic made of bearskin.  And there was—there may have been—a woman aboard his ship. She is tall and slender, with long hair the color of pale gold."

"You seem to know much about these folk," Ragnvald said to me. "More, perhaps, than the jarl himself. Your name is…?"

I was about to tell him that my name was Halfdan, when Hastein interjected. "He is one of my housecarls. He is called Strongbow."

To my surprise, Ragnvald said, "I may have heard of him. The recent messenger from King Horik is a skald. He is composing a lay about Ragnar and his campaign against the Franks. He recited it to us—as much as he has composed so far. There was a Strongbow in it, who with his arrows saved Ragnar from a Frankish champion in a great battle. How did those verses go?"

We fed the wolves and ravens with our enemy's dead.

On the Frankish plain our shield wall strong,

Held again and again against the charging steeds and iron-clad men.

The sea-king's axe split shields and clove helms,

The green field of battle was painted red with blood.

We fed the wolves and ravens with our enemy's dead.

Surrounded by foes great Ragnar stood.

Like wheat before the scythe a Frankish champion cut down

All around him; the raven banner nearly fell.

The sea-king lived to fight again.

"Yes, I think that is how it went," Ragnvald said.  "There was much more, of course, but I remember the Frankish champion falling from the swift and sure shafts. I thought it clever phrasing. So this is the warrior, the Strongbow who shot them and saved Ragnar?"

Hastein nodded. "He is the same."

Ragnvald looked at me appraisingly, and said, with surprise in his voice, "You are very young." He pursed his lips and was silent for a few moments, as if weighing what further to say. Then, turning back to Hastein, he spoke.