Beyond the Gap

by Harry Turtledove

  "You're really going back to the barbarians?" he yelped in what certainly sounded like pained disbelief.

  "That's right." Count Hamnet took a cautious sip from a mug of wine. The hair of the dire wolf that bit him might ease his pangs. He sent the adventurer a defiant stare. "What about it?"

  "You mean, besides your being out of your bloody mind?" Ulric was also nursing a mug. He was eating a sticky roll with candied fruit, too. Hamnet wasn't ready for food yet. Ulric Skakki went on, "You're the last man on earth I would have looked for to think with his cock."

  "By God, I'm not!" Hamnet said, loud enough to make his own head throb. More quietly, he continued, "Sigvat s not going to do anything about the Rulers. You know that as well as I do. He rubbed our noses in it last night. So what does that leave me? Either I go home and wait for the world to go to the demons or I try to do something about it. I thought about sitting on my hands, but I just can't."

  "An idealist?" Ulric Skakki asked sardonically. Hamnet Thyssen's nod was as defiant as his stare. Ulric laughed in his face and said, "Sitting on your hands, eh? How idealistic would you be if the Bizogot girl weren't sitting on your—"

  "Watch your mouth, Skakki." Hamnet Thyssen folded his right hand into a fist. "It's early for a brawl, but you can have one if you want." He wondered if he was bad-tempered because of his headache or because Ulric's gibe held more truth than he wanted to admit, even to himself.

  The adventurer shook his head. "No, not me. I'm a peaceable chap," he said. Count Hamnet snorted. Ulric Skakki went on, "Seriously, though, would you think of doing something like this if you weren't in love with Liv?"

  "I hope so," Hamnet answered. "It's the right thing to do—or will you tell me that's not so?" If Ulric tried, Hamnet intended to walk away.

  But Ulric didn't, not straight out. He was practical instead, practical and devious. "It's only the right thing to do if you think the Bizogots can beat the Rulers. Otherwise, seems to me you'd do better waiting for trouble here. Besides, do you want Trasamund for your overlord? I mean . . ." He rolled his eyes.

  But Count Hamnet refused to back down. "Better Trasamund than Sigvat," he said. "Trasamund doesn't pull his head into his shell and sleep through the winter at the bottom of a pond the way the Emperor does."

  Ulric Skakki looked alarmed, not because he hadn't told the truth but because he'd told it too loud. "Keep your voice down, or you won't have the chance to go north!"

  "Why not?" Count Hamnet said. "His Majesty should be as glad to get rid of me as I am to go, and that's saying a lot."

  He got only a shrug from Ulric, as if to say, On your head be it. The foxy-faced man asked, "And how do you think Trasamund will like having you for a subject?"

  "I haven't talked with him yet," Hamnet answered with a shrug. "He put up with me all the way through the Gap and past it. He ought to be able to stand me from here on out. It's not as if I'm likely to try to take the jarl's job away from him."

  "If you could get the Bizogots to listen to you, you'd do it better." Ulric Skakki held up a hand. "I know. I know. Nobody can get the Bizogots to listen to him. That's one more reason what you're doing is madness."

  Count Hamnet looked at him—looked through him, really. "I have two questions for you. Are the Rulers the biggest trouble we have, or is something else?" He folded his arms across his chest and waited.

  Ulric let out a snort of his own, but he answered, "Well, the Rulers are. I don't think there's any way around that."

  "All right. Very good, in fact." Hamnet Thyssen clapped his hands in mocking applause. Ulric looked more exasperated than ever. Ignoring his sour expression, Hamnet went on, "If the Rulers are the worst trouble we have, would you rather do something about them or do nothing about them?"

  Ulric Skakki opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again, but still didn't speak for some little while. At last, he managed, "That's not fair."

  "Fine. Have it your way. But why shouldn't I have it my way, too?" Hamnet said.

  "Because you won't do what you think you will?" Ulric suggested.

  "Fine," Count Hamnet repeated. "But I'll do something. I want to do something. I need to do something. If you want to do nothing, that's your business."

  "And you'll be laying your pretty little Bizogot—except she's not so little, is she?—in the meantime," Ulric jeered. Hamnet Thyssen swung on him. The next thing Hamnet knew, he was flying through the air upside down. He hit the stone floor on his back, hard. Ulric Skakki wasn't even breathing hard. "You all right?" he asked. "You rushed me a little there."

  Count Hamnet needed several heartbeats to take stock of himself. His right wrist was sore. So was the back of his head, which had also thumped the floor. "I... think so," he said slowly as he climbed to his feet. "What did you do there? Can you teach it to me?"

  "And spoil my air of mystery?" Ulric said archly.

  Before either of them could say anything more, a servant stuck his head into the room. "What happened?" the man asked. "It sounded like the castle was falling down."

  "Oh, I dropped my winecup." Ulric's voice was bland as butter without salt. "It was empty, so I didn't even make a mess."

  "Your winecup?" The servant thought he was lying or crazy or both. The man was right, too, but Ulric wouldn't let him prove it. The adventurer just nodded and smiled. The servant looked at Hamnet Thyssen, then quickly looked away. Hamnet's expression was probably terrifying. Thwarted, the man withdrew. Ulric Skakki winked. "Where were we, O winecup of mine?"

  "Oh, shut up," Hamnet muttered. He gathered himself. Standing on his dignity wasn't easy, not when he'd just been flipped and thrown. "Will you teach me that trick?"

  "Come at me again and you'll learn more about it than you ever wanted to know," Ulric Skakki answered.

  "Keep my woman out of your mouth, then." Hamnet set a hand on his swordhilt. "And don't even start to make the joke that's in your filthy mind."

  "You can't prove it," Ulric said. He didn't make the joke, so Hamnet didn't have to try.

  * * * *

  Eyvind Torfinn was even more surprised and even more dismayed to learn Count Hamnet intended to go north with Trasamund and Liv than Ulric Skakki had been. What Gudrid thought, Hamnet didn't inquire.

  No matter what she thought, Eyvind Torfinn arranged a gathering of his own to see Hamnet and Liv and Trasamund off to the Bizogot country. That he was able to arrange it left Hamnet impressed. Earl Eyvind was more his own man than Gudrid's former husband had imagined before setting off for the north with him.

  "Are you sure we should come here?" Liv asked as she and Count Hamnet rode up to Eyvind's large, rambling home. "Will that woman poison the food? Or will hired murderers greet us when we go in?"

  "I doubt it," Hamnet answered. "She hasn't tried to murder me—that I know of—since she left me. And I expect she'll put up with you. She knows you're dangerous, and she knows me well enough to fear my revenge."

  "Ah." Liv nodded. That, she understood.

  Like all entrances in Nidaros, Earl Eyvind's faced south. The bulk of the large home shielded Hamnet Thyssen and Liv from the Breath of God. Even so, the knocker had frozen to the door. Hamnet had to tug on it to free it.

  Eyvind Torfinn opened the door himself—no hired bravos. "Your Grace," he said to Hamnet, and then, to Liv, "My lady." He remained polite to her. Maybe Gudrid hadn't told him everything that happened at the reception. Just as well if she hasn't, Hamnet thought.

  "Your Splendor," he and Liv said together. They smiled at each other, the way people will when they do that.

  "Come in, come in," Eyvind Torfinn said. "You are both welcome here ... in spite of your foolishness, your Grace."

  "I thank you," Hamnet Thyssen answered. "I don't look at it as foolishness, you know."

  "Yes, I do," the older man told him. "It makes you the only one in Nidaros who doesn't."

  Liv squeezed Count Hamnet's hand. "No, your Splendor, it doesn't," she said firmly in her new, slow, precise Raumsdalian.

/>   "I stand corrected, my lady." Earl Eyvind bowed to her. He bowed more readily than he would have before setting out for the Gap and the lands beyond the Glacier; he'd lost most of the comfortable paunch he'd carried then. Hamnet guessed he would get it back soon enough, but he hadn't yet. As he straightened, he went on, "I should have said, the only Raumsdalian in Nidaros who doesn't."

  "Oh, there must be some sot in a gutter somewhere who hasn't heard the news," Hamnet said with a wry smile.

  "You make light of it, but you shouldn't." Eyvind's smile was just as sour. "Well, come along, come along. We will celebrate what you have done and hope you may yet do more in days to come if you return to your senses."

  "I'm not dead yet. I don't plan on dying any time soon, either," Hamnet Thyssen said in some annoyance. "By God, I'm doing what I think is right."

  Trasamund was already in Eyvind Torfinn's reception hall, drinking wine and gnawing on a leg cut from a roast goose. His belly was thicker than it had been before he got down to the Empire. He enjoyed the good things of life when he could get them. He sent Hamnet Thyssen something more than a wave and less than a salute. "You are a brave man," he boomed to Count Hamnet. "To put yourself in my hands, you must be."

  "I'm going north anyway," the Raumsdalian nobleman answered. Liv smiled. Trasamund laughed. Audun Gilli watched in wide-eyed fascination. Ulric Skakki's face was unreadable; he was better at keeping it that way than anyone else Hamnet had ever seen. Jesper Fletti plainly thought Hamnet had lost his mind—but, with a cup of wine in one hand and a mutton rib in the other, he didn't seem to care much. If he hadn't gone north, he never would have been able to get an invitation to Eyvind Torfinn's home.

  As for Gudrid .. . She had on almost as little as she did at Sigvat Us ill-fated fete. Was she reminding Hamnet of what he would be missing?—not just her, but also a city such as Nidaros, where there were dressmakers who turned out gowns like the one she was almost wearing.

  Liv made a small noise, deep down in her throat. A lioness spotting prey might come out with a sound like that. If Gudrid had heard it, she would have been wise to take herself elsewhere as fast as she could go.

  But she didn't. She swayed toward Hamnet Thyssen, a smile on her reddened lips. She leaned forward and stood on tiptoe to kiss him on the cheek. Liv made that noise again, louder this time. Gudrid ignored it, saying, "So you're going away, are you? Well, I hope you enjoy the bugs and the smells."

  Had some of her paint come off so he was branded to the eye as well as to the touch? He would wipe his face . . . soon. For now, he said, "I can put up with them. And I'll be where I need to be. And"—he put his arm around Liv—"the company is better."

  Gudrid didn't lose her smile. Her face went ugly for a moment all the same. "Who would have thought someone like you would run away for love?" she said. Someone boring like you but hung in the air.

  Hamnet shrugged. "I'm not running away. I'm running toward. You met the Rulers. You know what they're like."

  "Ah, the brave hero, sure he can charge off and save the day where nobody else has a chance. You sound like someone out of the romances dear Eyvind can quote for hours at a stretch." Gudrid jeered at her present husband, too.

  "I'm not sure of anything of the kind," Hamnet answered steadily. "I'd rather not pretend there's no trouble, that's all."

  "Really?" Gudrid tilted her head to one side. "Since when?"

  "You ought to know—you taught me the lesson." He kept his voice even. "Will you excuse me, please? I'd like to get something to eat and something to drink."

  "So would I, please," Liv said.

  Gudrid had to notice her then. "How could I say no to you? Who knows what would happen if I did?"

  Liv shrugged. "How do I know there is no ... no poison in the food and drink?" She had to search for the word she wanted, but she found it.

  Hamnet Thyssen watched Gudrid closely. If Liv's sarcastic comment turned out to be not a sarcastic comment but the truth, he thought his former wife's face would betray her, if only for a heartbeat. But Gudrid just shook her head. "I wouldn't poison you. You're going back to your tents, and you're taking Hamnet with you. That's a better revenge than poison ever could be."

  Instead of answering, Liv walked away and got a cup of wine. Count Hamnet lingered long enough to say, "We're going off to fight the Rulers, and this is the thanks we get?"

  "As if you care a fart about the Rulers," Gudrid said. "You're going off to screw yourself silly—sillier—and to collect lice and drink sour smetyn. And you're welcome to every bit of it, too."

  He growled, down deep in his throat. But then he turned away. Gudrid looked . . . disappointed? If he'd hit her, there in front of everybody, he would have stirred up a terrific scandal. Was that worth getting slapped? Gudrid would probably think so.

  He gulped the wine a polite servant gave him. And then, out of the blue, Liv said, "She's jealous of you." She used her own language, so most of the people who might overhear her wouldn't understand.

  "Who? Gudrid?" Hamnet Thyssen didn't laugh in her face, which was a small proof of how much he cared for her. But he did say, "You must be joking."

  "No. No, indeed," Liv said seriously. "You're doing something important. And you've found—I hope you've found—someone who matters to you. Whatever else she is, she is no fool. She has to know all this"—her wave took in Eyvind Torfinn's mansion—"is empty. We don't have so much up in the Bizogot country." Scorn edged her voice. "We don't have so much, no, but we know what we need to do."

  Count Hamnet glanced over toward Gudrid again. She was laughing and flirting with Jesper Fletti. Hamnet wondered if Liv was right. He didn't want to argue with her, but he couldn't believe it. Because the Bizogot shaman had such a strong sense of purpose, she thought everyone else did, too. She couldn't grasp that Gudrid really was as shallow as she seemed.

  Well, why should she? Hamnet thought. I had to get my nose rubbed in it before I understood.

  "Having fun?" Ulric Skakki had that gift for appearing at someone's elbow—and for disappearing just as readily.

  "Me? No. But I knew I wouldn't," Count Hamnet answered.

  "Why did you come, then?" Ulric asked.

  "Well, I didn't want to disappoint Eyvind Torfinn. He's doing something nice to see me off, and he's a pretty good fellow, even if—" Two words too late, Hamnet broke off.

  Ulric Skakki knew what he was about to say, and said it for him: "Even if he's married to Gudrid."

  "That's right. Even then." Hamnet Thyssen's shoulders went up and down. "And if I can say that about him, then chances are he's really better than a pretty good fellow, if you know what I mean."

  "He's not as smart as he thinks he is." Ulric could always find something unkind to say about someone—and something that was true at the same time, too.

  "Well, who is?" Count Hamnet said. This time, Ulric was the one who shrugged. Hamnet pointed at him. "Are you?."

  "I like to think I am." Ulric Skakki laughed. He could laugh at himself, which made him much easier to get along with than he would have been otherwise. "Of course, maybe I'm not so smart myself." He bowed to Hamnet. "Yes, I do see your point, your Grace."

  "I'm so glad," Hamnet said dryly, and Ulric laughed again. Hamnet asked, "Are you smart enough to come north with me?"

  "I'm smart enough not to," Ulric answered. Hamnet Thyssen raised an eyebrow. Unabashed, the adventurer went on, "I'm not a hero. I never wanted to be a hero. I've done my share of... interesting things. But I don't have to do this one, and I don't intend to. If you think you can save Raumsdalia up by the Glacier, be my guest. I wish you good fortune, and that's the truth. I aim to enjoy what you're saving, though. I like wine better than smetyn and spiced mutton better than roast musk ox. I confess to a weakness for real buildings and real beds and women who take baths. If that makes me a lazy, good-for-nothing weakling, well, I'll live with it."

  He was about as far from being a weakling as any man Hamnet Thyssen knew. That was part of the reason Hamne
t so badly wanted him to go back to the Bizogot country. "I don't suppose I can do or say anything to make you change your mind?"

  "Not likely, my dear," Ulric Skakki said. "When have you ever known anybody to change somebody else's mind? The only person who can change my mind is me, by God." He jabbed a thumb at his own chest.

  Someone Hamnet Thyssen barely knew came up to him then. The man wore expensive clothes and had a big belly. He carried himself with the confidence of somebody who'd done well for a long time, though Hamnet couldn't remember what he did well in. No doubt he was a friend of Eyvind Torfinn's, which said something unflattering about Earl Eyvind's taste in friends.

  "So you're going off to the Glacier again, are you?" By his accent, the near-stranger was born and raised in Nidaros. By the amused contempt in his voice, he thought too much of himself.

  "That's right," Hamnet answered. People like this made him wish he'd declined Eyvind's invitation after all.

  "By God, you must be daft," the fellow said cheerfully. "You'll freeze your stones off, and for what? For nothing, that's what." He sounded altogether sure he was right—altogether sure he had to be right.

  "Oh, I think going up to the Bizogot country may be worthwhile after all," Count Hamnet said.

  "Ha! How could it possibly be? Eh? Tell me that." Eyvind Torfinn's rich acquaintance was convinced Hamnet Thyssen couldn't.

  But Hamnet could. "Well, for starters, it takes me away from jackasses like you."

  The other man's face flushed ominously. "Here, now! What the demon is that supposed to mean?"

  "I usually mean what I say," Hamnet answered. "You should try it one of these days. It works wonders."

  "You can't talk to me that way! Do you know who I am?" the big-bellied man said.

  "I've been trying to remember your name, but I'm afraid I can't." Hamnet Thyssen shrugged. "If you push me a little more, though, I suppose I can always find out from your next of kin."

  "From my—?" The prosperous fellow must have drunk a good deal, because even that message took longer to penetrate than it should have. "You wouldn't—" He broke off again, because Hamnet plainly would. The big-bellied man gaped, discovering some things gold couldn't dissolve. "You are a barbarian!" he burst out.