by Hume, M. K.
‘What do you know that will be of use to the new king, Mother? Tell me now, for you can be certain that I will permit no person to harm you,’ Stormbringer assured her as he helped the old woman to make herself comfortable on the steps of the hall.
The old woman was a crone indeed, lean and stringy, as if time had eaten away all the soft flesh on her body, leaving a tough and fibrous carapace. Her sharp knowing eyes almost disappeared in heavy crows’ feet and deep pouches, while her mouth was a seamed slit that protected her inflamed gums. Even so, she radiated an aura of strength and vitality, as if time did not have the power to harm her.
‘I’m the herb mistress for the town, Master Valdar. People come to me for simples if they’ve got a cough or if a child has broken a limb, although sometimes there’s not much I can do. Of course, some lads and lasses want help for illnesses of the heart, while other customers sometimes come in the dead of night for other . . . potions.’
‘I understand,’ Stormbringer muttered grimly. He realised that women occasionally wanted to remove an unwanted pregnancy or ensure that a drunken husband would be encouraged to sleep soundly throughout the night rather than use his fists on his wife and children. Although he cringed from the thought, he knew too that some women sought a permanent cure to the problem of an awkward husband.
Herb lore was sometimes used to speed the ends of elderly parents during times of famine. This was no secret, for the grandparents usually insisted on a painless death with their family members around them to give them comfort and courage during their passage to their new life.
But there were other persons as well, and a wise herb-woman tried to refrain from asking too many questions of these visitors who called during the dark hours, with their faces hidden behind hoods.
‘I have received visits from a woman who was wrapped in a heavy cloak. Her face and dress were disguised, but I saw a lock of her hair, so I knew that my patient was Aednetta Fridasdottar. She asked for a poison for her aged parents, one that acted quickly but for which there was no antidote. I won’t say the name of the poison lest I should give other persons sinful ideas that will further blacken my soul.’
She paused and carefully considered her words before she continued. ‘Her purchases were most peculiar, Lord Valdar, for most daughters in her position desire a painless death for their parents. On the contrary, she didn’t seem to care how much pain was inflicted but only asked for speed and certainty. I felt some unease in my dealings with her.’
Then the old woman burst into tears and Arthur was forced to comfort her, while he learned her name and discovered where she could be found. He wondered at her sincerity. This old woman had a sly look about her and Arthur decided she wasn’t to be trusted.
‘I’m afraid, Master Valdar. Now that I’ve heard your words, I believe that I might have killed my king, although I swear I never meant to do any such thing.’
When he finally calmed the old herb mistress, she stumbled away a little happier for she was well aware that her confession had helped her to avoid any punishment for her complicity.
The fisherman, Sven, soon regretted his spontaneous decision to tell all he knew. Unfortunately, he was unable to extricate himself at this late stage, as Stormbringer gripped him by one muscular arm when he tried to depart.
‘I be a fisherman in the Lake of Limfjord, and I have been for my whole life. Now that I be a married man . . . er . . . I struggle to earn more silver than I make with my nets. I be telling you this . . . because my wife told me the whole thing were peculiar from the beginning . . . not that she were complaining when we paid our debt to the net-maker . . . but she thought . . . I mean, been thinking . . . I should explain.’
Sven was far from half-witted, although his speech was crude and what he was trying to describe so execrably was largely a mystery to him. He understood the ways of the shoals of fish and where the best catches were found, but he was less than twenty summers in age and knew nothing of the wickedness of his betters.
Now, having tied himself into mental knots, Sven retreated into incomprehensible mumbling before he finally fell silent.
‘Take a deep breath, Sven. No one here will harm you, but we have to understand what you’re talking about. How did you earn this extra silver?’ Stormbringer made his voice as calm and as reasonable as his sense of urgency would allow.
‘A strange woman turned up at the door of my house about two years ago. She must have known me, but I had no idea then who she was. She had wrapped her whole body in a thick cloak and she came at dusk so I were unable to see her very well, but my wife were watching her very closely all the time that I have served her as a messenger. My woman says the lady is the king’s wisewoman and whore. I begs your pardon, Lord Stormbringer, but Aednetta Fridasdottar is called the Crow’s Whore by the whole town, her not being very well liked and all. I can’t say things about her for certain . . . but she’s young and she smells good.’
‘What did she want, Sven?’ Arthur interrupted, while the young fisherman shied like a frightened horse at Arthur’s crisp tone.
‘Don’t mind my friend, young Sven! Just tell us the truth! You’ll have nothing to fear and much to gain, including the gratitude of your new king.’
Stormbringer grinned engagingly at the young fisherman and Arthur watched as the lad began to relax. He could see that Sven must have been very easy for Aednetta to manipulate.
‘She asked me to deliver a piece of cloth to an old man who lives on the other side of the fjord. It seemed innocent enough, but I looked at the cloth and there were strange marks on it in some kind of paint. They weren’t runes – I know them well enough – and the paint didn’t wash out if the cloth was wet. I couldn’t make head nor tail of the whole rigmarole. She paid me a finger of silver every time I delivered a strip of the cloth.’
‘Did you ask her what the cloth was for?’ Arthur spoke as gently as he could, but the nervous fisherman still edged as far away from him as he could.
‘As I said, master . . . I unwrapped the cloth and looked at it during the first trip across the fjord. It was just a piece of rag that was covered with strange patterns of lines, dots, crosses and dashes. It must have meant something to someone, but I had no idea what it could be. When I asked her why I were paid so much for delivering such trifles, she told me to mind my own business, so I made certain I did only what she asked of me and nothing more. She were a hard woman, were Aednetta Fridasdottar, and she were threatening to curse me if I were difficult.’
Stormbringer nodded in understanding. ‘Did the old man give you anything to deliver to her before you made the return journey?’
‘He gave me a rush basket filled with fish laid out on fresh grass. It were truly strange that I was paid good silver to deliver fish – but how could I ask them what they were doing? I’m a simple man, my lord, so I kept my mouth shut.’
‘But you’re a fisherman,’ Arthur replied.
‘Aye, master! It seemed daft to me, but we owed coin for the new nets and we barely made ends meet by the time I gave the net-maker a share of my catch. I were concerned about what I were doing for this woman, but I tried not to think about it.’
‘One final question, Sven,’ Stormbringer asked. ‘How many times did you make the voyage across the fjord?’
‘I never kept count, my lord, but I suppose I’ve seen the old man about fifteen times in two years. I told myself that it weren’t really a lot. Tell me, master? Will me and mine suffer for the tasks I carried out for the king’s whore?’
‘I don’t think so, boy, but you’ll have to show the new king’s warriors where the old man lives,’ Stormbringer explained in a sympathetic voice.
Eventually, Arthur also took pity on him. ‘You’ve been very wise to speak so frankly to the Sae Dene king about this matter. Had your activities been discovered, the jarls would have presumed, quite logically, that yo
u were prepared to betray your king and your people for fingers of silver. In such an event, I can guarantee that you would have been executed. But, now that you’ve told the truth, you’ll be lauded as a good Dene who has acted in his master’s best interests.’
The fisherman appeared to be thoroughly confused by Arthur’s courtly speech, so Arthur explained more simply.
‘You’d have been executed for treason if you hadn’t come forward, Sven. Instead, I’ll make sure that you’ll be considered a hero.’
‘Do I have to give back the silver, Master Dragon?’ Sven asked, his hands busy as he nervously threaded the hem of his tunic. ‘We’ve already given the net-maker his share, but I used some of the coin to buy some land next to my house. My woman has a yearning to have sheep and cows – and a vegetable patch, and she would fair murder me if I gave it back. What should I do, Master Dragon?’
‘I don’t think King Frodhi will require you to gift him the coin, and I’m certain that it is of no further value to the witch-woman.’
Once Sven went on his way the two friends watched his rapidly retreating back and thought furiously.
‘Aednetta Fridasdottar is as good as dead.’ Stormbringer spoke with some regret, for the death of a strong, clever and fertile woman was always a loss in the Dene lands.
‘Someone has been very, very clever in this whole conspiracy, for the only person who has been visible throughout this whole mess is Aednetta,’ Arthur said. ‘She is the one who buys the poison and she organises the communication links with the Hundings. Without her aid, we’ll never find this invisible traitor.’
‘There’s no doubt in my mind that Aednetta murdered Hrolf Kraki,’ Stormbringer replied. ‘I know that she denies touching the wine and the servant agrees that she didn’t touch the tray, but the wine had been left out for some time. She could have poisoned it earlier in the evening and enacted a complicated ruse to divert any suspicion. She would also be certain that none of the servants would steal Hrolf Kraki’s wine, so there would be no chance to warn the king of the poison.’ The thought that someone he knew could be a traitor filled the Sae Dene king with horror. How could he possibly have missed such duplicity within the king’s court?
‘Unlike you, I’m beginning to think that Aednetta had nothing to do with the death of the Crow King. She could have killed him with impunity at any time during the past few months and never been caught, so why would she select the very day that we turn up with an army behind us to murder her paramour? The woman might be venal, but she isn’t stupid!’
The Sae Dene stared at Arthur for some minutes and then shook his head like a large and very wet dog. ‘Why isn’t anything simple? She’d have to be drunk, crazy or terrified to kill so blatantly and I’ve never considered Aednetta to have any of these failings. She’s got enough gall for ten men, so terror only goes so far with her. We’d have noticed if she was drunk. Damn and shite! She’s far too convenient to be our regicide!’
‘Isn’t she! No one would shed a tear for her if she was executed, including you and me. But I’ll be annoyed if anything should happen to the lady before we have an opportunity to question her.’
‘Agreed!’ Stormbringer said sadly, because torture was as abhorrent to him as it was to Arthur. He smiled thinly. ‘Well, let’s be about it then. I know how much you hate this business, so we need to get it over and done with.’
Stormbringer despatched a slave to fetch Snorri and the witch-woman from her quarters where she had been confined under guard. At the same time, another messenger was sent to find Frodhi who was trying to establish the source of the poisoned wine and discover why the mead requested by Hrolf Kraki had failed to arrive.
Then Arthur and the Sae Dene king set up comfortable seats and a stool for the woman to use. From the position they had selected for her, she would have to look upwards into their eyes, giving them a psychological advantage during their questioning.
Snorri clattered into the hall at a panicky run and Arthur immediately steeled himself for trouble.
‘Master! The wisewoman has been attacked . . . and she’s like to die!’ Snorri was panting with effort, so neither man asked questions immediately. They could see that the helmsman was deadly serious. Something had managed to pierce his usual phlegmatic calm.
‘Tell me what you’ve found, Snorri, and leave nothing out,’ Stormbringer ordered.
‘The new king had ordered that Aednetta Fridasdottar should be tied to the bed and locked inside Hrolf Kraki’s room,’ Snorri told them as they strode to where she had been held. ‘A guard had been placed outside to ensure that she stayed put. It has no windows and the walls are at least twice the height of a man, so no one could climb in without being seen by the guard or sleepers in any adjoining rooms.’
‘So the woman was secure. I want nothing more, Snorri! We’ll speak further when you report to me in the privacy of the king’s room.’
The corridor was short and dim, but Arthur took in a myriad of small details as the three men approached the king’s bedchamber. A small oil lamp burned on the floor near a wooden tray bearing a plate, several mugs and a large jug. A guard was standing at attention beside the thick door. Arthur’s voice and hands registered his impotence that Aednetta might have passed beyond the reach of his questioning.
Just before they entered the range of the man’s hearing, Arthur pulled Snorri to a halt. He wanted to hear as many details of the crime as possible before they entered the dead king’s inner sanctum.
‘You can continue now, Snorri!’
‘I ordered the guard to let me in, and we found the witch-woman tied to her bed by one wrist. I ordered the guard to find King Frodhi and a healer while I stayed with her. Then I ran to fetch you, for I knew you’d want to speak with her before she died.’
Snorri wanted to pass on everything he had seen and heard to his masters, and then bolt from this stifling hall into the clean air.
‘Show me exactly what you did, Snorri,’ Stormbringer said carefully.
The Sae Dene followed Snorri’s unusually nervous form down the shadowy corridor. A miasma of intimidation lingered in this grim building with its chilly interior and its dark history.
At the doorway, the guard insisted on holding them back from the developing chaos. The corridor boiled with activity as men milled in disarray, unable to act without direct orders from their superiors. The air thrummed with tension. Ignoring the guard, Arthur brushed past warriors who tried to ask questions of him, and ploughed towards the door in the heart of the hall, the place where the spirit of the Crow King still hovered, alone and lost, somewhere between the promise of Valhalla and the cold endlessness of Udgaad.
Once he reached the door with its inner and outer locks, Arthur took a deep breath. A simple strap of leather had been devised to secure the door to the frame, for this heavily planked entrance was to protect those people who were inside the room. Once he had opened the simple mechanism, he paused to examine the inner security provisions, including a large slab of oak that was strong enough to prevent easy access to Hrolf Kraki’s last line of defence in the event of attack. Currently, this door was unlocked on the inside.
Arthur took a moment to plan the best course of action. He had not yet glanced at the bed and its occupant, but some premonition forced his eyes to remain riveted on the smooth oak, ready to be slammed into position if the need should arise. He saw nothing, but his mind was busy as a terrible and unexpected suspicion seized him. It caused him to gasp with consternation.
Please, God, let me be wrong, Arthur thought. Will Aednetta tell me that the traitor was a lusty young warrior who had been suborned by the Hundings and acted as her lover and confederate in this treason? Anything but the unpleasant suspicions that have finally stolen into my head.
‘What’s in there?’ Stormbringer demanded from behind Arthur’s shoulder. ‘Let me in, Arthur.’
&nb
sp; Then finally he looked towards the great bed that filled most of the available space in the end of the room. His stomach lurched, despite years of experience.
‘Keep everyone out, Stormbringer – except for Frodhi, a healer, my three friends – and Snorri. The helmsman has been here already so he can enter at will.’ Arthur’s orders were delivered in a voice that his friend had never heard before. ‘For God’s sake, Stormbringer, do as I say! And then I’ll lock us all in here together.’
Stormbringer obeyed.
Then, with Snorri at his back, the Sae Dene king slid through the narrow gap that Arthur’s strong arms allowed, and saw a new violence that lay in the dead king’s bed.
‘Help . . . me!’ a barely audible and grossly distorted voice begged. Stormbringer turned away as Arthur slammed the oaken bar home on the door before he began to vomit in a corner of the room.
CHAPTER XIII
TO STARE INTO THE ABYSS
What I say is that just or right means nothing but what it is in the interest of the stronger party.
Plato, The Republic, Book 1
Stormbringer hesitated at the foot of the Crow King’s bed with Snorri standing protectively behind him, while struggling to avoid staring at the abomination lying on the luxurious fur covering. The room smelled of fresh vomit, dried blood, musk and a strange woody scent that Aednetta had left in her wake. The vague reek of fish coming from a guttering oil lamp smelled fresh and clean by comparison.
The sleeping chamber was much as Snorri had described it. Within these sturdy walls an aura of luxury and sensual pleasure was suggested by woven rugs of cloth, knotted and braided, on the smooth floors; a beautiful massive table; a huge clothes chest made from exotic woods and, incongruously, a collection of shells on a small stool beside the bed.
‘The new king doesn’t seem to have arrived!’ Arthur observed while staring hard at the workings of the inner door. The latches and the saddle that held the door-bar in place had been there for a long time, long enough for the few nails that held it in place to begin to rust. Out of curiosity, Arthur unlatched the door and checked the leather strap that secured the door from the outside. The materials were very new and Arthur supposed that this temporary lock had been constructed to ensure that Aednetta Fridasdottar had no chance of escape.