Alfred Hitchcock Mystery Magazine 01/01/11

by Dell Magazines

  There was silence. Magnus swallowed hard and looked at the ground. Finally, Bjorn sniffed the air and said, “You know, I think I detect the scent of a barrel of beer somewhere about.” Thorolf erupted in laughter, the first time he had laughed all evening, and a well-timed laugh it was, causing the others to laugh as well and break the tension.

  The cask was breached, the men laughed and drank and talked. Only Magnus sat quiet, nursing his anger with swallows of beer.

  The next day, Thorolf’s group met up and walked among the booths, greeting friends and making a show of strength. Thorolf took them near Olaf’s booth and left them outside while he went in to talk with the other chieftain. The men strutted and laughed. They kept their chins high and their chests out, but Colm detected a nervous shiftiness in their gaze. They were standing about when Grim and the twins came upon them.

  “Well, look who we have here,” said Grim. “Have you come to visit?”

  Colm said, “We accompanied Thorolf. He speaks with Olaf now.”

  “Ah. Deciding what you can afford to pay for my poor cousin, is he?”

  Colm shrugged. One of the twins spoke. “Who ever heard of a slave paying wergild?” The twins snickered.

  Bjorn made a farting noise with his mouth. The twins looked at him, looked at each other. Svart said, “Hey, don’t accuse your brother! You both done it!” Bjorn erupted in laughter. All the others began laughing as well. All except Magnus, Colm noticed. Magnus’s mouth was pressed into a hard line and he stared coldly at Grim.

  The twins turned red simultaneously and seemed to swell and become fatter. Bjorn and the others laughed harder. Grim shifted his angry eyes about the group. “That will cost you!” he finally spat out.

  “No one will pay you a penny!” Magnus leapt forward, his hand twitching for a sword hilt. “Selling your cousin’s life and pretending it is a matter of honor! Scum like you have no honor! If you were any kind of man you would have sought vengeance long ago! Yes! And met your death doing so!”

  Grim’s face went white, then red, then white again. “I will take no settlement from you, now or ever! And we will see who meets his death when I avenge my cousin. I cared little about you before now, I was seeking other targets.” Grim nodded toward Colm, then turned back to Magnus. “I thought you had dishonor enough with a whore for a daughter-in-law ...”

  Now Bjorn stepped forward, no longer laughing. “I am to marry Gerda and proud to do so ...”

  “You think marriage will make her any less a slut? She was to marry one man but slept with another. Yes, Magnus! Your son wasn’t man enough so she came to my cousin for her needs!”

  Thorolf stepped out of the booth into the sunlight. Olaf was behind him. Grim kept on. “There’s the man whose fat daughter screwed away his honor! Are you really going to fight for that slut? Why, every farmer and his slave has probably had his way with her!”

  The blood ran from Thorolf’s face and his eyes blazed. Colm knew then that there would be no settlement now, not ever. Sometimes fighting broke out at Althing, even though weapons were not allowed. He thought of his sword, laid aside in Thorolf’s booth, and considered how long it would take him to fetch it.

  Olaf stepped forward. “You speak like a fool!” he told Grim. “Don’t count on any help from me!”

  “I never expected ought from you since you failed to seek justice for my cousin!”

  “The man was outlawed! He went into hiding! If he had come to me before the sentence was pronounced ...”

  “Ha!” Grim spat on the ground.

  Olaf started to speak, then fell silent as he caught sight of Snaekulf, standing behind the twins. The berserk was silent. There was no telling how long he had been standing there. All of Thorolf’s group quieted as they regarded him. Snaekulf was a fearsome sight. His unblinking eyes with pinpoint pupils and teeth bared in a not-grin chilled them all.

  Colm wanted to say something that would rally the other men’s spirits, but could not choke up a single word.

  Grim’s eyes glittered. “Well, not laughing now? Tell me, Olaf, when we are done, will you help me or hunt me?”

  “I urge you not to ...”

  “Enough of that! I am your follower! Will you come after me?”

  Olaf spoke quietly. “No. But if you act in this foolish way, I will not stay the vengeance of others. And these three—” He waved his hand at Snaekulf and the twins. “are nothing to me. In fact, I blame you for bringing them here and for causing these problems.”

  Grim shrugged, turned on his heel, and stalked off. Glum and Glam wheeled as one and followed but no one laughed at them. Snaekulf regarded the others for a moment, then also turned and left.

  “That is a hard-looking man,” said Olaf.

  “He is only one and we are many,” answered Thorolf.

  “Yes,” said Olaf. “Well, make certain you are as many as possible when you take him on. You cannot be too many for that man.”

  Thorolf nodded. And Colm silently agreed.

  When Althing ended and the men took up their weapons, they traveled in a group back to their farms. It was a tense caravan. The men clutched their sword hilts and studied the rocky slopes for signs of ambush as they rode along. The women caught the mood and muttered nervously in their wagons. Magnus wanted everyone to ride at once to Grim’s farm and attack whoever was there, but Thorolf’s scouts reported that the place was empty. It was decided that each one would return to his own farm and make ready to regroup as soon as Grim or any of his party was spotted. Then they would all attack together.

  Egil and Thorgils had adjoining farms near the river. It seemed to Colm that they were pleased enough to leave the group. He wondered how much use they would be in a fight. He saw again, very clearly, that he was the main warrior here and that the outcome of the fight would depend on him. He gathered himself and thought how he would strike at the berserk. He saw his sword slashing down and cleaving Snaekulf’s skull. There would be no speeches, no taunts or boasts, just rush in and kill the man. Colm set his mind to this and played it before his mind’s-eye over and over. Rush, slash, strike!

  They turned up the valley where the rest of the farms were situated. The first stop was at Svart’s farm. They ate there and spent the night. The next day Thorolf dispatched some slaves and farmhands to the ridgetops to scout for movement by their enemies. Svart stayed at his farm and the rest travelled on to Ketil’s place.

  Magnus was next, still grumbling at not being able to fight yet. Then the group rode on to the Trollfarm. They searched the place carefully to make certain that no one was hiding there. It was then that Thorolf changed the plan.

  “I think it best we all stay together now. They may be waiting at Bjorn’s place and, if he shows up alone, they will be too many for him.” The others nodded. “We will leave the women and some hands at each farm, then ride back for Magnus and the others and search these men out.” And so they agreed.

  Two slaves, good runners, were left with Gwyneth at the Trollfarm. They would watch the approaches and, if they saw anything, would run to get Thorolf and Magnus. Marta and her daughter Gerda dropped off at Thorolf’s farm. Watchers were posted there as well. Bjorn had no family to look after his farm. He named a man as steward but all the other hands were sent out to scout the area. Some went up the mountain to the shieling where old Edgar watched the flock. Some were sent inland to the desolate lava fields. The rest fanned out around the farm. Thorolf had now set up sentries from the Trollfarm on all along the valley. He and Bjorn and Colm settled in for an uneasy night.

  Magnus was eating when a runner brought him news that the berserk had been spotted. He was on the ridge above Svart’s farm, spying out the place. Magnus immediately sent a man to warn Svart and others to ride to the Trollfarm and to the river to fetch Egil and Thorgils. Then he rode to Ketil’s farm.

  It was dark when Magnus arrived. Ketil welcomed him in and the two of them began drinking beer and plotting how they would tackle the berserk. Around midnight the
re was a commotion at the door and they grabbed their weapons. Svart stumbled in. Clearly he was frightened of staying at his farm alone. The three men sat up drinking until dawn.

  Just after sunup, Magnus’s man returned from the Trollfarm. He reported that Colm wasn’t there but that he had sent another runner on to Thorolf’s place. Magnus was angry and stalked about his place yelling and shouting. After a while the others brought him back inside and gave him more beer. There was no word from Egil and Thorgils.

  One of Thorolf’s scouts reported seeing Glum and Glam just below Bjorn’s farm, riding south. Another, breathless, came running with word that Grim was camped just past Thorolf’s farm, waiting there. Then the runner came with news that Snaekulf was far to the south, above Svart’s steading.

  “They split up and waited for us,” said Colm. “They were watching to see where we would go.”

  Thorolf nodded. “Now they will gather and go after the lone men—Magnus, Ketil, Svart ...”

  “We could take these three on now,” said Bjorn. He told them of a way to get to the road where the twins would meet Grim. There was a path down past the cliffs, then up over a rocky hillside. “They will be in sight of one another when we come down the slope, so we will be fighting all three.”

  Better than meeting four, thought Colm, especially considering who the fourth is, but he said nothing.

  The men gathered their weapons and rode out. Four farmhands and three slaves went with them. No one really expected the slaves to fight.

  When Magnus heard that none of the men were at Thorolf’s farm, he was furious. He struck the runner who brought him the message and yelled at the others gathered around. When the slave got up from the ground, Magnus hit him again, a great backhanded blow that set the man flying. The slave raised to one knee. He did not stand up again but knelt with his head bowed. Blood dripped from his nose onto the ground.

  Svart and Ketil grabbed Magnus and pulled him onto the bench where he sat, breathing heavily. Suddenly he raised his head, light flashing from his eyes. “Where is the man now?”

  There were eight men, five slaves and three hands, on the ridge now, watching the berserk and reporting his every move. One of them was careful to kneel before Magnus before he spoke. “He is building a fire in the sauna.”

  “The sauna!” Snaekulf was camped near a pool where people bathed. Svart had constructed a sauna nearby. “The sauna.” Magnus slowly grinned. His eyes were red and bright as coals. “I have a plan,” he said.

  Colm, Thorolf, Bjorn, and the others made their way carefully along the path that ran down the cliffside. Huge basalt pillars, octagonal in section, rose on either side. Far below they could see the scattered rubble of fallen columns. Small rocks fell from the path and rang against the stone like bells, echoing all the way down. Sometimes a horse’s hoof would slip on the rocky path and then ears tensed for the possible screams of horse and rider going over. No one spoke. Everyone concentrated on the descent.

  At the bottom of the cliffs, the horses picked their way through the broken rocks and finally reached the apron of hard-packed gravel and earth that edged the grassy hillside sloping above. Perhaps a stream had once flowed here and now had found another course. Perhaps, someday, that course would be blocked or a volcanic eruption would send a surge of snowmelt roaring through this channel and it would be a river once more.

  The riders made their way past the eroded banks where the meadow margin had collapsed leaving walls of raw earth a yard high. Then finding a way onto the slope, they began galloping up the hillside, quick now, exhilarated at finally being loosed from caution.

  At the summit, they paused and looked at the road below. They could see clearly two riders coming down from the north at a fair clip and to the south a lone man standing near a small fire pit. Colm saw right away that it was Grim. Grim raised his arm in greeting to the riders who were still a few hundred yards away, then caught sight of the men on the ridgeline above him. He dropped his arm and ran to his weapons, lying on the ground nearby.

  Colm kicked his horse into action and shot down the hillside straight at Grim. He didn’t pause to think, but let himself uncoil like a spring wound tight. He was on Grim in a moment, and past him. Colm yanked the bridle and dragged his horse’s head around to charge at his foe before thinking to draw his sword. Grim swung at him as he rode up, slashing a piece of his cloak. Colm had his sword free now and brought it down hard. Grim pulled his head back but his belly stuck out and the sword point caught his torso and sliced a line down his middle. Grim grabbed his stomach and stabbed at Colm, who recovered and brought his sword up hard. He caught Grim’s arm on the back edge and cut off his right hand. Grim staggered back, clutching his guts with one hand and swinging the stump of the other. Blood sprayed from the wound and Grim looked at it, missing for the first time the weight of a sword in his hand. He looked up at Colm, then fell to his knees. His head bowed and his left hand dropped away from a spill of blue and grey and red intestines. Then he pitched forward onto the earth.

  Colm looked up. Two slaves and one of the farmhands sat on their horses clutching their weapons. Their jaws were dropped and their eyes wide with fear as they looked at him. Colm glanced down the road. Thorolf and Bjorn were closing in on the twins and Colm galloped to join them.

  Glum and Glam jumped from their horses and thrust spears at the riders coming at them. One man came too close and Glam caught him in the side. The man grabbed the spear shaft and fell from his horse. Glam yanked his weapon free and the wounded man rolled onto his face, pressing a hand against his bloody side.

  Meanwhile, Glum almost caught Thorolf, who wheeled his horse away at the last moment. Glum’s spear pierced the horse’s belly and it screamed and reared, pitching Thorolf onto the ground. Glum stepped forward to finish him, but Bjorn struck down with his sword, splitting Glum’s head open.

  Glam screamed then, louder than the horse had done, and charged forward with his spear and drove it into the guts of a slave who had come too close. A farmhand charged up behind Glam and chopped at him with an axe. Glam dropped to the ground, his split skull the mirror of his brother’s.

  For a few moments the men circled the corpses, breathing hard. The horses were skittish, eyes rolling white in their heads. Thorolf’s horse was still screaming, trying to stand. A loop of gut protruded from the horse’s wound, and it had tangled its hind hoof in it. The farmhand that had killed Glam walked over to the horse, bloody axe in hand, and split its skull the same way he had the man’s. Now all was quiet except the men’s labored breathing.

  Thorolf said to Bjorn, “That was a fine blow you struck. At least, I think so.” Thorolf gestured at Glum’s corpse. “He may have different thoughts.”

  Bjorn said, “I’ll listen hard for anything he may have to say.” He grinned. He stood tall and thrust out his chest. He glanced at Colm with bright eyes. Colm nodded at him. Bjorn was proud now. He had killed a man in a fight and could stand tall beside any man. He gestured at the twins’ bodies. “They may have looked foolish, but they died well.” It behooved a man to praise his fallen enemy.

  Thorolf walked over to the fallen farmhand but the man was dead. Something had been pierced inside and he had bled to death. The slave was still alive. The spear was still in his body. It had gone through his guts and, judging by the length of shaft protruding, had jabbed right into his pelvis. The man was doomed. Belly wounds meant a lingering and painful death.

  Thorolf said gently, “Shall I remove the spear?”

  The man’s eyes widened. He knew that pulling the spear from his body would hasten his death. Then he closed his eyes and nodded. Thorolf grasped the spear and pulled it free in one strong motion. Blood poured from the wound and men could smell shit and see some on the spear and they all knew that was an end for this man. Thorolf motioned the other slaves over. “Stay with him until he dies. Make him as comfortable as you can, but don’t give him any food or water.” Thorolf looked up at the sky. “Shelter him from the sun.”
The slaves nodded. “Take the bodies back to my farm. Use those horses that the twins rode. I will take Grim’s mount.” He gestured toward the farmhand. “When we are finished I will go by and speak to that man’s widow. Did ... does this slave have family?”

  “He is married to a slave named Braga.”

  Thorolf nodded and walked over to the dying man. “Braga shall have her freedom. You have earned that for her.”

  The man’s mouth opened but he could not force out any words. Only a low moan issued from his lips.

  Now Thorolf addressed the farmhand who killed Glam. “What is your name?”

  “Adals.”

  “Well, Adals, you have done well and I won’t forget you.” The man smiled.

  Colm surveyed the scene: the killers in their pride, the dying and dead men, the excited horses. His nose was full of blood-stink. His thighs began to tremble and he felt as though he might vomit. He remembered his charge down the hill at Grim when he had not thought at all but given himself over to violence. This is what the berserk has with him always, he thought. He is always in violence.

  The berserk! Colm spoke, “We must head south. Snaekulf will be after Ketil and Svart, then he will come for Magnus.” He thought of Gwyneth but dismissed the idea. Not even Snaekulf would attack a lone woman. That was a crime so contemptible that only a monster with no humanity at all would commit it.