Even after Thorgrim and Ornolf had sailed away, little had changed. Odd kept a close watch on the farm. Skafti Hrappsson, the overseer, was honest and competent, and if he was not as exacting as Thorgrim had been, still he made sure all was in good order. Thorgrim’s farm, Amundi’s neighbor’s farm, was run with care and consideration, and was as prosperous as one might expect of such a place.
No more. Amundi had ridden through the fields, which were quickly being overgrown with weeds and tall grass. He had ridden though the farmyard, past the outbuildings, the smith and the stables and the storehouses. Past the empty great hall.
There was no one there now. Some had gone to live at Odd’s farm, some had simply left. Odd had removed pretty much anything of value, and Halfdan and thieves unknown had removed the rest. There were no chickens, no ducks, no cats or dogs. The buildings were already starting to show signs of neglect. There was a lifeless quality to the place. A hall of the dead.
It had given Amundi an uneasy feeling that he still had not shaken off, because he knew that the change that had come to Thorgrim’s farm was just a harbinger of the change that was coming to Vik, and to all of the country around. They had enjoyed twenty years of peace and abundance, but that could not go on forever.
He reined to a stop in the middle of his yard. There were still chickens and ducks at his farm, and they scattered as he rode past them and the stable boys came out to take his horse. Servants bustled around, and the blacksmith’s hammer rang with its semi-musical note. His farm was every bit as well-run and successful as Thorgrim’s. In truth, Amundi had always been aware of an unspoken and generally amiable sense of competition between him and Thorgrim. Amiable, perhaps, because there was no clear winner, neither of them obviously outstripping the other.
Alfdis, Amundi’s wife of twenty-five years, came hurrying out of the hall, wiping her hands on her apron. “Who are these visitors, husband?” she asked.
“Halfdan’s men,” Amundi said. The two of them looked off to the south. The riders were close now, minutes from arriving. “You’ve set out food and drink for them?”
“Yes,” Alfdis said, making no effort to disguise her concern. “What do they want?”
“I don’t know,” Amundi said, which was true, but he had a pretty good idea, at least of the general nature of their business.
They were still standing there, husband and wife, when the riders came trotting into the yard. Amundi could see now that he had been right about the banner: a long, red, pointed silk flag with the black head of an ax at the widest part. The banner of Halfdan the Black.
“Amundi!” the lead rider said as he slipped down from his horse and one of the stable boys took the reins.
“Thorstein, welcome,” Amundi said. Thorstein was one of Halfdan’s hirdsmen, part of the elite house guard, whom Amundi had known for many years. Amundi had expected Einar to be leading this contingent, but on second thought he was not surprised that Einar was not there. He guessed that Einar was not much in favor with Halfdan just then.
“Welcome, Thorstein, it’s been too long,” Alfdis said, stepping up and giving the man a perfunctory hug.
“Thank you, Alfdis,” Thorstein said. “It has been too long.” There was an odd note in Thorstein’s voice, as if he was trying and failing to be more formal than he would naturally be in that company. It seemed Thorstein did not relish the task he was on.
“Please come in, you and your men,” Alfdis said.
“We’ve not come for a visit,” Thorstein said. “There’s business we must…”
“Of course,” Alfdis said. “But you’ve ridden hard, I can see that, and I’m sure you’re hungry and thirsty. Come, come.” Alfdis was not a woman who would stand to be found wanting in hospitality, whether that hospitality was desired or not.
Soon they were seated at the hall’s center table, meat and cheese and bread and ale spread out before them, and they ate and drank. They spoke about many things, but Halfdan and the recent events were not among the topics. Thorstein had not been at the fight at Odd’s farm, Amundi was all but certain. Halfdan would not have risked his precious hird for a task he must have thought would be easily accomplished.
“Very well,” Amundi said at last. Thorstein clearly had something to say, and with every bite of Amundi’s food, every sip of his ale, he was growing more reluctant to say it. “Please, Thorstein, tell us why you’ve come.”
“Of course,” Thorstein said. “I bring word from King Halfdan. He sends his regards and asks that you and as many of your warriors as you can spare ride to his hall in Grømstad. He reckons you should be able to bring a dozen men, at least.”
“Does he?” Amundi said. “Well, he should know.”
Thorstein shifted on his bench. “I need not remind you of your obligation to the king. Your obligation to serve under arms, you and your men,” he said.
“No, you need not. And when does he want us there?”
“As soon as you possibly can. Tomorrow. Can you get there by midday?”
Alfdis spoke next. “This is a very busy time on the farm, Thorstein, you know that. This is not the time for the men to be gone. My husband especially. Being ready for the winter could well depend on this week.”
“Of course…” Thorstein began, but Amundi cut him off. Thorstein certainly knew all this. He might even have been sympathetic. Further discussion was pointless: there was no chance of Thorstein changing his decision because the decision was not his to change. Amundi could either comply or he could drive Thorstein off, and he was not about to drive the man off. Amundi did indeed have an obligation to his king. He had not forgotten that.
“I understand, Thorstein,” he said. “I can assemble the men, and we can try to make it by midday. Will that do?”
“Yes, that will do,” Thorstein said. He did not offer to tell Amundi the reason for the summons, and Amundi did not ask. He did not need to.
Thorstein accepted Amundi’s invitation to spend the night, it being too late to make it back to Grømstad until well after dark. But he and his men were up early the next day and gone before Amundi had even called for his men and told them of this unexpected summons.
It was not midday, but late afternoon, when Amundi finally arrived at Halfdan’s hall. He could have pushed harder and arrived earlier if he had been eager to get there, but he was not, so he timed his arrival to be as late as it could be without sparking Halfdan’s anger.
He rode at the head of a column that numbered a dozen men. They were the free men who worked his farm and some who rented land from him. The armor they wore, the weapons they carried, had been handed down from father to son, or acquired in one way or another, or given by Amundi as gifts for good and faithful work.
Amundi led the men through the big gate, well-guarded but open, and into the open area by the great hall. He saw there what he expected to see: a crowd of men, all ready for battle. And beyond them, staked out, the horses on which they would get there.
Ulfkel Ospaksson was the first to greet him, hurrying over in his quick though ponderous way. “Amundi! Thor’s arse, I supposed you’d be here first. You’re not the sort to dawdle, I know that. Then I wondered if you’d decided not to come to the party.”
Amundi slipped down from his horse and signaled for his men to do likewise. “Wouldn’t miss this, Ulfkel, even if I could. Which I can’t.”
“None of us can,” Ulfkel said, then lowered his voice in what he reckoned was a conspiratorial tone. “That whore’s whelp Halfdan’s got some plan, and I don’t think we’ll like it.”
“I think you’re right. As usual, Ulfkel,” Amundi said, also speaking in a near whisper. He looked around. He saw Vifil at the far end of the ground and Ragi Oleifsson with his own men, and a few of the other farmers in the area, men with holdings of various sizes. All of the men of status except for Odd, and that was as he guessed it would be.
“I think we should get us all together: you, me, Ragi, all the leading men here. Talk this out,” Ulfkel sai
d.
“We should,” Amundi said. “But I doubt we’ll have the chance.”
And he was right. By the time he and his men had staked out the horses, Einar had come from the long hall and called for the attention of the men gathered there. Amundi looked close at Einar, tried to see if he had sustained any injury from the fight at Odd’s farm, or, more likely, injury from Halfdan on his reporting what had happened. But Amundi could see nothing of the sort.
“Gentlemen, listen here,” Einar said, then paused a moment as the buzzing of talk settled down. “King Halfdan is most pleased that you’ve come to his summons, and in a willing and timely way. You do, as you know, owe military service to your king, and King Halfdan is satisfied that you take that obligation seriously.”
Einar paused, apparently waiting for some to argue or object, but no one did, so he continued. “It’s not often that King Halfdan calls on you, but when there’s a genuine threat to this kingdom then it’s necessary that he do so. And such a threat has arrived now.”
Again Einar paused. Amundi figured he was waiting for someone to ask what that threat might be, a question to which Einar doubtlessly had an answer ready to go. Amundi wondered if anyone would in fact ask. He glanced over at Ulfkel. If anyone was willing to speak up it would be him. But Ulfkel was standing with arms folded and mouth in a frown and he did not look poised to speak.
I wonder if there’s any here so foolish that they can’t guess at the reason we’ve been called, Amundi thought.
“Good,” Einar said with a tone that suggested the talk was over. “It’s late in the day, now. King Halfdan will not ask you to ride through the night. He asks you feel welcome in his hall, where you will all sleep, and then in the morning, we ride.”
The men were ushered into Halfdan’s hall, and though they were near two hundred warriors, the hall was enormous and accommodated them all with ease. They ate and drank and Halfdan did not join them. But Einar was there, and Amundi and the others who had brought fighting men with them were very aware of his presence, as well as that of Onund Jonsson, captain of Halfdan’s hird, his personal army, the paid warriors of his house guard, as well as other members of Halfdan’s retinue. They were being watched, and much as Amundi would have liked to gather with the others and talk this out, he knew that such seemingly conspiratorial activity would get back to Halfdan, and Halfdan would not look charitably upon it.
So they slept, and they woke, and they had their morning meal, and then Einar said, “Pray, get your mounts and make ready to ride out. This business will not keep you long from your farms, we don’t think.”
The men put on what armor they had, belted on weapons and stumbled out of the hall to where their horses waited. They mounted up and formed themselves into a ragged column. At the end of the column stood two heavy wagons loaded with food and ale, enough to feed the entire army for a few days, at least.
I guess maybe we’ll be gone longer from our farms than you would have us believe, Amundi thought.
They were all on horseback and waiting when Halfdan made his first appearance, stepping through the big door. On his head was a bright shining helmet and over his shoulders a cloak made of red silk, like his banner, trimmed in ermine and clasped with a massive jeweled broach. His mail glinted like sunlight on the breeze-rustled surface of clear water.
Stable boys held Halfdan’s horse as he mounted, and behind him half a dozen of his hirdsmen mounted as well. Thorstein was among them, as was the flag bearer who had come with Thorstein to summon Amundi. The hirdsmen were armed and outfitted nearly as well as Halfdan himself.
They rode out, heading north along the road Amundi had followed the day before to get to Halfdan’s hall. They rode mostly in silence, with just a word here and there and the occasional sound of a horse’s whinny or a cough or curse from one of the men. They stopped for their midday meal and then resumed their travels. Their pace was not leisurely, but two hundred or more men could not move as swiftly as a dozen could, and they were still riding as the sun began to drop in the west.
Amundi had only a vague idea of where they were heading when they left Halfdan’s compound, but as they traveled he felt more certain, and his stomach tightened as it became increasingly clear to him that he was right. Then at last Halfdan, riding at the head of the long column, turned off the main road and led the men down another, smaller road that Amundi knew well—the road to Thorgrim Night Wolf’s farm.
The place looked just as forlorn as it had when Amundi had ridden though some days before, more so even, with the daylight fading away. They rode down the long hill to the yard around which the buildings were built, the empty and deserted buildings, and when they were all there, Halfdan told the men they could dismount, though he himself remained on horseback.
“We’ll spend the night here,” Halfdan said, and his voice sounded odd in the unnatural quiet of the place. “This farm is mine now, forfeited by the family of Thorgrim Ulfsson for failing to pay his taxes. So you may sleep in the hall, or wherever you wish. It’s all here for you to use. In the morning we get on with our business.”
Ulfkel Ospaksson, who among them was the least given to restraint, could bear no more. “What business is that, Lord Halfdan?” he called. “We’ve ridden until our arses are numb, and with no idea why.”
Halfdan wheeled his horse so he was looking directly at Ulfkel. He must have been anticipating that question all day, Amundi imagined, and there was a practiced quality to his words.
“Your king requires it, that’s all you need to know,” Halfdan replied. “All you need to know for now. In the morning you’ll all be told what we’re about, what our work is. In any event, Ulfkel, if I tell you now you’ll just forget by morning anyway, and you know it.”
That dig at Ulfkel brought a chuckle and broke the mounting tension. A fire was built in the long hearth in Thorgrim’s hall and barrels of food and ale unloaded from the wagons, and once that began to flow the mood grew lighter still. For most.
The noise of eating and drinking and talking faded as the night progressed, and finally there was just snoring, copious and loud. But sleep did not come for Amundi. He was used to the snoring, that would not have disturbed his rest, but the turmoil in his mind was something new, and he fought with that beast all through the night.
He drifted off at last, and woke to the bustle of Halfdan’s men cooking a great caldron of porridge over the revived flames in the hearth. They ate, the more important among them at the table, the others on the raised platforms on either side of the hall. Halfdan sat in the high seat, the seat of honor, which Thorgrim Night Wolf had once occupied.
“You’ve shown yourselves to be good and loyal men,” Halfdan said when the meal was finished. He spoke loud and his words carried throughout the long, high-ceilinged hall. “You came when I summoned, and did not show discontent. But that’s not true of all the men who live in the country of Vik, no, not at all.”
No one spoke now, no one moved. They looked at Halfdan and they listened. “Odd Thorgrimson, whose father once owned this farm, has chosen to defy me. To put himself outside the law. And worse, he has used violence against his king’s men. He has unsheathed his sword. And that cannot be forgiven. No man can defy his king, not when good men like you come and do your duty when summoned. So today we ride to the farm of Odd Thorgrimson and we capture the villain and his family and we see that justice is done. And when it is, you all will be rewarded.”
Silence followed Halfdan’s words, and Amundi thought, And there it is…and I can put off choosing no longer. But he had already made his choice, lying awake in the dark hall.
He stood. Halfdan looked at him and all the others did as well.
“Lord Halfdan,” he said. “I have always been loyal to my king. To you and to your father, and I am just as loyal today. I’m ready to take up arms when you give the word. But we’re free men here.” He made a sweeping gesture, indicating all the men in the hall. “We’re not slaves. What we own—land, houses, thralls,
cattle—we’ll let no man, king or thief, take from us. And that’s how Odd Thorgrimson feels, too. What he did is not right, setting a trap for your men, but neither is taking his land with no cause.”
He stopped. It seemed as if the quiet had redoubled. No one moved or spoke as Amundi met Halfdan’s stare and held it. The others might have expected Halfdan to explode in anger, but Amundi knew better. Halfdan the Black had far too much control for that.
“Odd is an outlaw,” Halfdan said at last, his voice calm and smooth, just as Amundi knew it would be. “His land was not taken without cause. It wasn’t his land to begin with. It was his father’s land, and his father owed taxes he did not pay.”
Neither man, Halfdan not Amundi, moved, nor did anyone else in the hall. “Thorgrim Night Wolf is my neighbor and my friend,” Amundi said. “Whether he owed taxes or not, it’s not mine to say. But you tried to simply take his land for yourself, without giving Odd a chance to speak, or to make it right. That’s not how a free man should be treated. There are laws about this, about how a man’s property is to be confiscated. I don’t deny it, what Odd did was wrong, but it’s what a free man, a free man of honor, would be expected to do.”
Silence again. Then Halfdan said, “Then what do you propose to do?”
“I would implore you to speak to Odd. To let him make this right. If Thorgrim’s farm is to be confiscated, then do it according to the law. As for me, I won’t be part of any attack on Odd Thorgrimson and his family. I’ll go back to my farm, me and my men. You have warriors enough, you won’t feel our loss.”
Amundi nodded toward Thord and the others who had ridden with him and they stood and filed over to stand by him. Then Ulfkel Ospaksson stood as well.
Kings and Pawns Page 27