Heroes of the Valley

by Jonathan Stroud

  His brother's head was lowered; he regarded Halli from underneath his brows, his chest rising and falling heavily. 'We held them trapped with the nets,' he said at last. 'Seven all told. Hord and Ragnar were there. They fought furiously, though the odds were hard against them. Several of us were wounded, but I killed a man myself, and Thorli here struck the head from another. Then Ketil was slain beside the net and Grim – who witnessed it – could not contain his grief. He leaped from the roof into the alley and set about his son's murderers with his hammer. He slew one, but then Hord came, fighting like a demon, and Grim was killed. He was a brave man.' Murmurs of assent came from the crowd. Leif nodded. 'And all that being the case,' he went on, 'I do not see why we should give these dogs a scrap of mercy now.'

  He did not speak loudly, but it was a challenge nevertheless; and the crowd was with him. Several men shouted out at Halli, but he ignored them. 'You haven't finished your report, Leif,' he said. 'Where are Hord and Ragnar?'

  Leif shrugged. 'They cut through the outer net and escaped. These two were too badly injured to follow them. The battle is over. We've won and can do as we like. I say we kill them.'

  'No,' Halli said. 'We lock them in the granary. Bolli, you're nearest. Go and do it.'

  In the silence that followed, the crowd held back, irresolute. Their hostility was clear, but muted; they looked to Leif to articulate it for them. Leif stared at his feet, then swiftly round at the group. He took strength from their willing silence. 'They're enemies of our House, Halli,' he said savagely. 'They've broken valley laws and killed people of our blood. We all know what they deserve – and that's death.'

  The crowd roared agreement. Halli showed his teeth. One hand still held the sword; the other drifted to his belt and the hilt of his knife. 'Leif,' he said, 'I should not need to tell you this. We spare these men for two reasons. First, because it is dishonourable to kill a helpless man, and second, because the night is not yet over. There are still nine men out there: Hord will return, and hostages will be useful if we need to parley. Any man who denies this is a fool. Now, for the second time, Bolli' – he did not look at the fat man, but kept his eyes fixed levelly on Leif – 'go and take the prisoners to the granary.'

  Everyone watched Leif again; for a moment he did not move. All at once he gave the slightest nod. A stir ran round the company. But no one spoke out and the captives were quietly removed.

  'Good,' Halli said. 'Now, we must quickly get men watching each side of the House. If Hord tries—'

  'It seems to me, brother,' Leif said huskily, 'that you can stop there with your ordering us about. Yes, your plan's worked nicely; none of us deny it. And perhaps it's best to keep our hostages safe, as you say. But things have changed now. We've broken the attack, and the Hakonssons are hardly likely to threaten us any further with only nine men. So maybe we no longer need your talent for violence; maybe it's time to remember it was your actions that brought this tragedy upon us in the first place.' He glanced around; mutterings of approval rippled through the crowd.

  Aud gave an angry cry. 'It's Hord Hakonsson who you should blame, not Halli! Don't be an idiot, Leif—'

  Halli touched her with his hand. 'Now is not the time to argue about this,' he said. 'We must watch for Hord—'

  But the noise of the crowd had intensified. 'You see?' Leif cried. 'The people know I'm right. You're a bringer of troubles, Halli, always have been. How many of us are dead now, because of you? How many wounded? You shame this House, brother, and if Mother weren't out of her mind with grief, she'd have made that clear to you today.'

  Halli breathed in sharply. 'Is that so, brother?'

  'It's so. Best now if you are silent and let me take charge of things.'

  'Halli—' Aud put her hand upon his arm.

  'It's all right.' He shrugged her off. As he did so, his jerkin parted, revealing to all a flash of silver.

  Leif 's eyes widened. 'What is that? What is that you're wearing?'

  All followed his gaze; all noticed the silver belt beneath the jerkin. There were assorted gasps of horror and dismay. During the argument the aggression of the crowd had washed restlessly back and forth, seeking focus. Suddenly it found one.

  Leif spoke in disbelief. 'Svein's silver belt!'

  'He's taken it,' someone gasped. 'He wears it for his own!'

  Far off across the yard, unnoticed, a figure came running through the mist.

  'He has stolen the luck of the House!' a woman said. 'No wonder we suffer so!'

  Halli said evenly, 'Yes, it's Svein's belt, with which he never lost a battle. Anyone care to challenge my right to wear it? You, Leif ? You, Runolf ?' He waited.

  Amid the mist, the figure ran. His voice was faint and breathless. 'Halli!'

  No one in the crowd had spoken. Halli smiled, shrugging. 'Well, then—'

  'Halli!'

  Aud said: 'Look, there—'

  Out of the mist came Sturla, who had been sent around the wall to remove the mannequins. He careered towards them from the direction of the north gate, his face a mask of terror. 'Halli! Halli! Hord is here! He has archers – with arrows of fire! They want you brought forth, or they will burn the House! They will torch us all!'

  No one spoke. All, as one, stared out into the mists. All saw an orange-yellow dot emerge beyond the wall. It soared into the sky, arcing upwards, scarcely bigger than the stars through which it crept, hovered for a moment like a hunting bird, then fell towards them, growing, flaring with life, trailing a yellow tail. There was no time to speak or move.

  With a whistling scream a bolt of fire exploded against the flagstones a few yards from Aud and Halli. A ring of orange flame flickered briefly against their sides, their clothes rippled, their hair blew back. They didn't move. The crowd of defenders screamed and scattered. Leif dived to the ground; he and others rolled about in utter disarray.

  High overhead drifted other fiery lights; with fizzing sounds they dropped from the dark sky, becoming balls of flame. One hit midway up the hall roof, one in the middle of Grim's forge. There were muffled impacts: fire rose instantly from the turf. Another shattered on the stones beside the flagpole. Shouts came from within the hall; the yard was suddenly alive with panicked forms.

  Halli looked at Aud. She looked at him. 'It's time,' he said.

  'No. Halli—'

  'Here, you have this.' He placed the sword in her hand, closed her fingers fast upon it. 'It'll only slow me down where I'm going. Leif ' – this to his brother, staggering to his feet – 'you're in charge. Better do something about the fires.'

  Leif 's face was waxy, his eyes flickering to and fro. 'You—?'

  'I'm going out to save the House.' He turned to Aud and smiled at her a final time. 'Goodbye.' Then he was running: away from her, away from all of them; past the milling people of Svein's House, past the wounded and the stricken, those who hated him and those who didn't; down the alley between the cottages, where weapons lay, and helmets, and the bodies of the dead; past torn nets and dark pooling blood, over rocks and scattered debris, to where the Trow wall rose before him.

  He scrambled up, paused only a moment, then leaped down the bank and was gone, a small, broad, bandy-legged figure, swallowed in an instant by the mist.

  27

  AFTER THE BATTLE OF the Rock, Svein's body was brought home and a cairn built for him on his boundary. They sat him in it on his best stone chair, facing the moors, still clasping his bloodied sword. Set all about were the things he liked best in life: his drinking cup, brimful of ale; his silver plate, piled high with meats and bread; his favourite horse and hunting dogs, strangled by his grave and laid out at his feet. Many thought his wife should go with him too, so as to serve him during his watch, but she argued strenuously against this and by two votes won her case. Much gold and silver, won in battle with Trows and neighbours, was scattered round him, but his silver belt was unbuckled from his waist and taken to the hall, to bring his people luck. Then the cairn was sealed and the hero left upon the hill t
o keep the Trows away.

  It was not difficult in the end. Halli was relieved at that. He had feared that when the moment came, he would not see it amidst the confusion of the siege, and so miss the opportunity to act. Worse still, he had feared that he would see the moment all too well, but simply draw back, afraid. Yet when Sturla came running, and the fiery arrows began to fall, all doubt and anxiety passed from him like the dropping of a cloak and he knew what he must do.

  His clarity of purpose startled him, but as he left the House and leaped down into the long wet grasses of the moat, he realized that deep inside he had always expected such an outcome. Ingenious as his defences had been and successful as they had proved – by his reckoning around half the invaders had been killed or captured – the enemy's advantages in equipment and training were just too great, the hatred with which Hord Hakonsson pursued Halli too strong. It had never been likely that the battle would be won simply with the advantage of surprise.

  But there was a deeper reason why Halli had to finish it alone. It was a reason that stretched back far into his past, to his early childhood and Katla's admonitions on his character and prospects. Was he not a midwinter's child, with a doom upon him? He was fated to bring disaster down upon all those in his life. He was a male of Svein's line too, as Brodir had noted – and was likely to meet an early death. Such predictions were coming to pass with outstanding swiftness. But Halli was not dismayed.

  Once he would have railed against his destiny, lamented its injustice. No longer. He had done too much, and seen the consequences of his actions. By avenging Brodir he had helped sustain a feud. By seeking to escape the valley, by breaking the hero's boundary – perhaps even by wearing the hero's belt – he had brought down Svein knew what misfortunes on his House. Whatever he tried had failed or gone wrong; tighter and tighter the doom pressed in. Yet Halli accepted responsibility for it all, and that very acceptance now helped to free him.

  He was trapped by the enmity of Hord, by the hostility and incomprehension of his House, by the Trows waiting for him on the hill. So complete was the malign circle about him that Halli was utterly empowered. He had nothing left to lose.

  Saving the House by leaving it was the first step. The moment he jumped down from the wall he walked with a lighter tread.

  So Hord wanted Halli to come out, did he? Well, he would get his wish and the House might be spared. But Halli did not intend to give himself up without at least trying the plan he had outlined to Aud. She was right that it held little chance of success, and his chances of survival were smaller still, but Halli thought he would attempt it anyway. To seek to lure Hord beyond the cairns was something akin to madness, but its heroic futility rather added to its appeal. It gave him the sensation he had always had when listening to the story of Svein's last battle, with the heroes lining up on the rock in darkness, waiting for the Trows. He felt that same fatal recklessness inside him. an exultant sense of death approaching . . . In the meantime, if he was going to bring disaster and destruction on someone, Hord Hakonsson would do as well as any.

  White mist bloomed about him. He wormed his way quickly among the reeds and grasses of the moat, following the Trow wall's edge. Somewhere overhead the moon was shining, but its light bled opaquely through the swirling whiteness and Halli could see little. Moving by instinct along familiar childhood paths, he drew close to the north gate. Dimly he heard the twang of bows, heard sporadic shouts and screams beyond the wall. Hunching low, placing each foot as soundlessly as he could, he went more slowly, staring this way and that in the direction of the road.

  A faint yellow-orange smudge caught his eye, a shifting blur hanging at an unknown distance. As he drew closer, he heard its noise – the little spits and crackles as the bonfire burned.

  Dark shadows clustered round it, bending, straightening. Bright gobbets of fire were drawn out, lifted, sent shooting away into the air.

  Halli, crouching in the moat ditch, hidden by mist and reeds, bit his lip in anger. He counted the shadows swiftly: five. maybe six . . . Where were the others? At least nine men had successfully fled the walls. And where, above all, was—

  Not far away from Halli, closer to him than the fire, a portion of mist moved.

  The figure had been so still that Halli had not noticed him, had not realized how close he had come to the earth bank that formed the roadway up to the gate. The bank was raised a little above the moat; it seemed now that something shifted in mid-air, a black and solid shape warping and congealing from the threads of mist. Halli, lurking below, recognized that shape immediately. The moon's light, diffused and weakened as it was, picked out the broad shoulders, the bear-like bulk. A long sword hung ready at his belt; mail glinted at his arms and waist. There Hord stood – a great helmed warrior, legs planted firmly apart, hands jammed implacably on hips. He stared up towards the walls in a posture of supreme confidence; it was as if a hero of old had been reborn.

  Crouching in the mud, his bottom damp with dew, Halli groped uneasily for his own small weapons – the butcher's knife and Trow claw, tucked beneath his jerkin. He had no armour, no helmet, no bow or sword . . . He breathed in deeply, suppressing his fear. This was how it had to be: he wanted nothing to weigh him down.

  Except Svein's belt, of course. He patted the cold metal strip that spanned his chest. It had served him well enough so far. He needed its luck one final time.

  Up on the earth bank, Hord's outline shifted; Halli heard a barked command. The shadows by the bonfire grew still. No further arrows were fired above the wall.

  Then Hord cried out, his voice so loud that Halli, despite himself, shrank back amid the reeds. 'People of Svein's House!' Hord shouted. 'Do you not hear me? Cast out Halli Sveinsson from your gate and we will cease this burning! Cast him out and we shall depart, never to return! Or roast in your own hall!'

  He waited. The smell of smoke drifted in the air; high overhead, the mist was black with it. No answer came from beyond the wall.

  Hord grunted irritably, and turned to motion his men to continue their work.

  Halli rose from the reed-bed, hands hooked nonchalantly at his belt. 'Hello, Hord!'

  His voice echoed, died. The ensuing silence was different in quality from that which preceded it; suddenly the night was aware of him. He saw the figure on the earth bank stiffen. The archers at the bonfire froze, tar-arrows burning at their bows.

  Halli chuckled. 'Why so scared? I have come out!'

  Again a silence. He noted Hord's outline twist and swivel as if uncertain where to look. Hord's voice was eager, hesitant all at once. 'Halli Sveinsson? Is that you?'

  Halli spoke with casual confidence. 'It is I.'

  'Where are you?'

  'Here, close by. Down in the moat.'

  Hord turned and stared towards him, his black silhouette floating in the mist. Halli smiled back grimly; he stood in full heroic posture, feet broadly spread, arms folded, the picture of defiant disregard.

  Hord's helmet cocked doubtfully. 'All I can see are reeds.'

  'Oh, for Svein's sake.' Halli hopped sideways, away from the thickest patch of reeds, which were, admittedly, slightly taller than his head. 'There, can you see me now?'

  The great head nodded. 'I see something lurking like a rat in a hole.' In the depths of the helm Hord laughed, a hollow reverberation. 'So they actually cast you out?'

  'Not precisely,' Halli said. 'I came of my own choosing.'

  'May I ask why?'

  'Isn't it obvious? Your demands have been made: if I emerge, you stop your wicked attack on Svein's House. Correct?'

  Up on the bank Hord nodded slowly. 'Of course. I have given my word of honour. It shall be so.'

  'Good. Please instruct your men.'

  Hord looked across towards the shadows beside the bonfire. 'Extinguish the arrows; pull apart the fire! The House will burn no more. Frankly, Halli Sveinsson,' he said, turning back to Halli, 'this isn't what I expected. I thought you'd not come willingly, so that they'd either toss you out,
trussed and helpless, like a fat little parcel, or let you remain inside. If you'd stayed in. we would have done much damage to your hall, but in the end our arrows would have run out, and you would have lived. I confess I don't quite understand . . .'

  Halli noted that as Hord spoke to him, one of his hands – the one nearest the fire – was making certain minute gestures, finger-flicks and twitches that might be subtle signs.

  Speaking calmly, keeping his eyes fixed on the mists around him, Halli said, 'I only do what you would have done in my place, surely. It would have been dishonourable to remain inside while my people suffered. Your quarrel is with me, not them. They joined with me to foil your first attack, yes, but that was to save the House. The remainder of our disagreement must be settled here, between men.'

  'My feeling exactly,' Hord said. 'Come up here. We can settle it soon enough.'

  'I'll stay below for the moment, thanks.' Halli squinted into the mist. Its drifts and eddies moved unceasingly, filled with weird, imaginary forms; the incoherent whiteness hurt his eyes. But he thought he detected other movement – solid, purposeful figures flitting away from the dying fire, spreading out stealthily so as to come round behind him.

  Hord said heartily, 'I must compliment you on your tactics earlier. It was you, I suppose, who came up with those tricks – not that fool brother of yours. It put paid to my first plan, which was to take the House by surprise. Cost me eleven good men, too – and three others who now lie wounded yonder beneath a tree.'

  'All our captives are still alive,' Halli said. 'So I'll bargain with you, if you like. Finish your feud with me and, on my honour, you can have your surviving warriors back, unharmed.' He spoke loudly enough for his voice to carry to Hord's men as they stalked through the mists towards him.

  If Hord hesitated, it was imperceptible. 'My men follow me without question, just as Hakon's men followed him. Whatever their fate, they meet it without complaint. To give up my vengeance on their behalf would dishonour us all.'