by Anna Ciddor
‘I summons Grimmr the Greedy,’ he croaked.
‘Speak up, we can’t hear you!’ roared one of the Thingmen.
‘I summons Grimmr the Greedy!’ yelled Oddo. He knew his voice sounded like a childish squeal.
There was a stir in the circle and Oddo’s heart pounded with excitement as Grimmr stepped into view. The huge man glared ferociously at Oddo.
‘Well, insect, where are your witnesses?’ he roared. ‘I’ve brought mine!’Two servants stood beside him.
Oddo turned despairing eyes in the direction of the Thingmen. What were witnesses?
Then suddenly, there was a shout and a waving arm, and there was Farmer Ulf, pushing through the crowd – together with all the men from the boat!
A moment later they were crowded round Oddo, chuckling at his astonished expression. Ulf gave Oddo such a hearty slap on the back that he nearly fell on his face a second time.
‘We decided to turn back. Couldn’t leave you on your own, hey?’ Ulf muttered in Oddo’s ear. And then he turned to the Thingmen. ‘We are the witnesses!’ he cried. ‘And we can tell you where this boy’s father, and his father before him, have farmed these fifty years. That man,’ he pointed at the ugly giant facing them, ‘Grimmr the Greedy, who is but lately arrived in the district, has taken land that rightly belongs to Bolverk and his loyal son.’ He put an arm around Oddo’s shoulders. ‘And he’s tried to steal my land too!’ he added in a growl.
‘Do you swear this on oath?’ demanded the Law Speaker. He extended his arm, displaying a silver band sticky with blood. ‘This is the ring of oaths, dipped in the blood of sacrifice in the temple! Lay your hand upon the ring of oaths and swear to the truth of your statement.’
Ulf raised his hand and laid it on the ring.
‘I swear,’ he said.
One by one, the other men did the same.
The Law Speaker lowered his arm.
‘And what say you, Grimmr the Greedy?’ he asked.
Grimmr snorted like an angry bullock.
‘Balderdash!’ he bellowed. ‘That whining mosquito and his father have no right to call themselves farmers! With their two measly cows and their ten measly sheep and their handful of miserable grains. Why, they don’t even have a store of hay for feeding their stock. They just let the land go to waste!’
‘You stole our hay!’ cried Oddo. ‘And our land. And we have twenty sheep, not ten!’
‘Quiet!’ roared the Law Speaker. ‘You have had the chance to plead your case. Should you still be here at sundown when we hold court, we will adjudge your claim. But now your time is ended. Return to your place and let the law court continue.’
12
Hallveig
When Thora opened her eyes, all she saw of Oddo was a glimpse of his back as he dashed towards the law court.
‘Oddo!’ she called. ‘I’ve got something to give you!’
She held up the lucky runestone. But Oddo didn’t hear her. Thora shrugged, and dropped it back in the basket. She stood up, brushing off the dried leaves clinging to her long kirtle, and tugged her cloak straight. To her right, a girl was coming out of a tent, a heavy cooking pot in her arms. She looked a few years older than Thora, with delicate features and silky fair hair twisted in tiny braids all over her head. Thora watched her hang the pot over her campfire and begin to stir the contents. The girl glanced up, and smiled.
‘Good day!’ she called.
‘Good day,’ Thora answered, and took a few steps towards her. ‘My name is Thora,’ she said.
‘And I am Hallveig,’ said the girl. She had a high, sing-song voice. ‘And what is your dog’s name?’
‘Hairydog. But she’s not my dog. She belongs to my friend, but he’s gone to the Thing.’
Hallveig nodded. ‘My father’s gone to the Thing, too,’ she said. ‘Do you want to share my breakfast? There’s plenty here!’
Thora and Hallveig sat comfortably in the tent on two folding stools. Hairydog lay at their feet, chewing on bones.
‘What are you going to do all day?’ asked Hallveig.
‘I’m going to make herbal remedies to sell,’ said Thora.
Hallveig stopped eating and gazed at Thora round-eyed.
‘Are you a spellworker?’ she breathed.
Thora looked down at her bowl. What should she say? It was the herbs that did the magic – she just knew how to choose them and mix them so that they healed and took away pain. But people would only buy her remedies if they believed she had magic powers.
She mumbled an evasive answer.
‘I can work spells with herbs,’ she said.
‘Oooh,’ squealed Hallveig. ‘I know a real spellworker!’
Thora was embarrassed. She wasn’t used to people calling her a spellworker.
‘And what about you?’ she asked. ‘What are you going to do all day?’
‘I’m going to look for nettles,’ said Hallveig. ‘My father’s a rope-maker and he needs nettles to make into ropes.’
‘We can go together!’ cried Thora. ‘I can look for herbs while you pick nettles.’
The two girls made their way upstream till the sounds of the Thing died away. Hallveig found a stand of prickly old nettles as tall as she was and began to hack at them with a knife, while Thora picked fresh young nettles, soft, feather-leafed woundwort plants, and the juicy stalks and plump leaves of chickweed.
‘Shall we go back now?’ asked Thora, when her basket was full.
Hallveig nodded, out of breath from chopping at the tough stalks. She picked up a piece of twine and began to bind the nettles together.
‘Owwww!’ She dropped the bundle and danced around, shaking her hand.
Thora snatched some leaves off a broad-leafed dock. ‘Here,’ she cried, ‘this’ll take away the sting!’
Hallveig thrust out her hand and Thora wrapped the soothing leaves around her fingers.
‘Don’t you have to say a spell?’ asked Hallveig
‘Uh, if you like.’ Thora racked her brains, trying to remember one of Granny’s chants.
‘From nettle sting
Relief do bring!’
she muttered.
Hallveig beamed.
‘The pain’s gone!’ she said.
Back at the camp, Thora lit a fire and hung a pot of water over the flames. Then she spread her cloak on the ground and laid out the soapstone pots and clay jars she’d brought from home. Hallveig put her nettle stalks to soak in a bucket of water and came over to look.
‘What’s in the pots?’ she asked eagerly.
‘This is a lotion for soothing squeaky bones,’ answered Thora, ‘and these . . .’
‘Squeaky bones? People don’t have squeaky bones!’
‘My granny does,’ said Thora.
‘Hmm, have you got anything more useful?’
Thora picked up a clay jar, pulled out the stopper and showed Hallveig the black smelly goo inside.
‘This’ll take away the pain if you cut yourself,’ she said.
‘Auugh, it pongs!’ cried Hallveig, ‘Put the stopper back in!’ She held her nose and backed away. ‘Is that all you’ve got?’
‘As soon as this water boils, I’ll be able to make more things,’ said Thora, feeling rather piqued.
‘Make some of those potions that make people fall in love, or give them a long life, or how about those ones that protect you when you’re travelling!’ cried Hallveig eagerly. ‘People will want to buy those!’
‘Um, I just make healing herbs,’ said Thora.
‘Oh.’
The water in the cauldron was beginning to steam. Thora looked round eagerly for customers. An old woman was shuffling past, wheezing and coughing.
‘Would you like a herbal remedy?’ called Thora. ‘I can make you a nice soothing drink to take away that cough.’
The old woman peered down at the pots.
‘Got something there for a long life?’ she asked.
‘No, but I can make you a soothing drink to take away
that cough,’ Thora repeated.
The woman sniffed wetly.
‘All right.’
Thora filled a drinking horn with boiling water and dropped in a few slivers of the ginger root she’d brought from home.
‘Here.’
She was just about to hand it to her customer when she caught Hallveig’s eager, watching expression. ‘Umm . . . Wait a minute.
‘Take cough away,
This very day!’
she said triumphantly, then watched anxiously as the old woman breathed the spicy scent and took a few cautious sips. She drained the horn, handed it back and rubbed her hand against her chest.
‘That does feel better,’ she said, and began to shamble away.
‘Uh, could you pay me a bit of silver?’ asked Thora.
‘Sorry, dear, don’t have any.’
A crowd of giggling girls nudged each other towards the stall.
‘Do you want something?’ asked Thora. These girls with their plump, rosy cheeks didn’t look very ailing.
But one of them was shoved forward by her companions. ‘We want to buy some love potions,’ she spluttered.
Thora sighed. ‘I don’t have love potions,’ she said. ‘Just remedies. I can heal cuts and bruises, a sore belly, an aching head . . .’
‘She’s really good,’ said Hallveig, holding up her leaf-bound hand. ‘She took away my nettle stings!’
Her voice trailed off as she watched the customers lose interest and meander away.
‘Listen,’ she hissed, prodding Thora with an elbow and bending her head close. ‘Why don’t you just say they’re love potions . . . or long-life potions . . . or whatever people want? Nobody will know the difference!’
Thora bit her lip. Hallveig was right of course. Nobody would know the difference. The Gula Thing would be over in a few days and she’d never see her customers again. She could tell them anything she liked. But she didn’t want to earn silver by trickery. She really was a good healer – it was just that she needed patients!
13
The duel
Oddo was bored. And hungry. He stood behind Ulf’s broad back, pressed so close he could have opened his mouth and taken a bite out of Ulf’s cloak. He couldn’t see the Thingmen and he was sick to death of the endless declarations.
Suddenly there was a stir of excitement in the crowd in front of him.
‘A duel! A duel!’ voices were crying.
Four men left the ring with glaring, angry faces and strode towards the pile of discarded weapons. Two of them pushed hazel posts into the ground to mark out a square. The other two armed themselves with shields and swords and took up fighting stances in the centre of the square. One of the duellists was short and stocky with bright red hair. His shield was painted red and yellow and his sword hilt shone gold. Oddo spied the shapes of runes inscribed in the gold. Would they bring this man special fighting powers? The other man was nearly twice his height, but thin and stooped, with a beaky face like an eagle. His shield was black, his sword blade long.
Oddo heard the Law Speaker give the signal to begin. Red Head stood his ground, shield raised, while The Eagle hurtled forward with a murderous howl and plunged with his sword. The long blade smashed into the shield and the wood split and shattered, but Red Head twisted sideways, grabbed another shield from his assistant and charged forward. There was a flash of metal, a loud grunt, and the black shield too was sliced in half.
The Eagle danced around the square, swooping and darting, while his opponent, like an angry bull, snorted and parried.
Then Red Head’s second shield splintered into pieces and clattered to the ground. The little man let out a furious bellow and bolted forward, head lowered. There was a sparkle like a leaping flame as his sword hilt flashed in the sunlight, then he stepped away and lifted his arm in triumph. The Eagle was left, staring with disbelief at the blood dripping from his arm.
There was a thunder of cheering. For the first time, Oddo noticed that people from all over the plain had gathered to watch.
Thora was in the middle of telling yet another young girl she couldn’t have a love potion when she heard shouts. She looked up to see everyone running across the plain towards the court.
‘Come on!’ Hallveig squealed. ‘They must be having a duel!’
She dashed off, but Thora paused to load her basket. When she reached the cheering, yelling horde, she pushed her way to the front and saw a tall man sprawled on the ground, blood spouting from his arm. She sprang into action. Heart pounding with excitement and Hallveig close on her heels, she hurried towards the wounded man.
‘You’ll be all right,’ she said. ‘I’m a healer.’
She opened a clay jar and tipped the smelly contents into the palm of her hand. ‘Here, this’ll take away the pain.’
Rubbing it onto his arm, she watched with satisfaction as the colour returned to his cheeks.
‘Could some of you carry him to my camp site?’ she asked, turning to the crowd. ‘Then I could treat him properly.’
As the wounded man was borne aloft, bystanders tagged along, so it was quite a procession that made its way across the plain. By the time the patient was laid beside her fire, Thora had a large audience. She bathed the wound and made a hot poultice of chickweed and myrrh. Then she filled a horn with boiling water and dropped in a few petals of lavendel.
‘Drink this,’ she said. ‘It’ll soothe your nerves.’
‘Made me a drink this morning,’ announced a croaky voice. The snuffly old woman was back again. ‘Soothed my cough!’ She nodded and looked around.
The duellist drank his tea and rose to his feet, flexing his wounded arm experimentally. He beamed at Thora.
‘Many thanks, young enchantress, for your kind attention.’ He slid a silver snake band from his other arm and proffered it with a bow.‘Please accept this gift in recognition of your service.’
‘How about something for my poor legs?’ demanded a woman beside him, hitching up a corner of her kirtle to reveal a pair of swollen ankles.
Everyone pressed forward now, clamouring for cures.
‘I’ve got a sore back!’
‘Here, what can you do for my kiddie?’
‘Hey, wait your turn!’
With so many customers at once, Thora was beginning to get flustered. Then Hallveig knelt down beside her.
‘Tell me how I can help,’ she said.
Thora pointed at the clay jars. ‘If it’s a pain, rub on some of that!’ she instructed. ‘I’ll look after everything else.’
She screwed up her face in concentration as she tried to remember the right herbs for every ailment: ginger infusions to cure a cough or clear a fever, cloves for a toothache, rosemarin for headaches, dill seeds crushed and soaked for a good night’s sleep . . . She took a deep breath and smiled at her patients.
This was going to be a busy afternoon!
14
The judgement
The long day of arguments drew to a close at last, and the Law Speaker rose to give his judgements.
‘The first case is the claim of Oddo, son of Bolverk, against his neighbour, Grimmr.’
Hearing his name, Oddo snapped to attention.
‘Here is the decision of the court: all land cultivated and uncultivated is the property of King Harald the Fairhair. But the King, in his generous bounty, allows his subjects to claim tenantry upon his land. It is our judgement that Oddo, son of Bolverk, has a right to claim the land where his forefathers have dwelt for fifty years. But he must lay his claim in accordance with the ancient custom! If he should fail in any deed decreed by that custom, then he shall forfeit that land and it shall become the property of the other claimant.’
Oddo scowled in concentration as he struggled to follow what the man was saying.
‘Three days from now, when the business of this law court ends, the Thingmen shall set sail for the land under dispute to bear witness to the land-taking ceremony. Oddo!’ The Law Speaker looked in Oddo’s direction.
‘How many days’ sailing is it from here to the land you claim?’
‘Uh . . .’ Oddo tugged frantically at Ulf’s sleeve.
‘Two days,’ hissed Ulf.
‘Two days!’ called Oddo.
‘So shall it be that five days hence we will arrive at the disputed land. Upon the morning of the sixth day, at the first sign of the sun in the east, shall you light a new fire. And that fire shall be a needfire . . .’
Oddo listened anxiously till the instructions ended, then let out his breath in a sigh of relief.
‘That doesn’t sound too difficult,’ he thought.
The Law Speaker called the next claimant, and Oddo’s heart leapt. ‘I’ve finished! I can leave the Thing at last!’
As he stepped out of the ring of stones, he heard a familiar yip and Hairydog sprang up to greet him.
Oddo tried to dodge the welcoming licks.
‘Hey, Hairydog,’ he laughed, ‘where’s Thora?!’
‘Oddo!’ Ulf’s heavy hand clamped on his shoulder. ‘Congratulations! Come and join us for supper, boy. Come and join us for supper.’
‘Uh, I’d better find Thora,’ said Oddo. ‘But thanks anyway. Down, Hairydog. Show me where Thora is.’
The dog began to trot across the plain and Oddo hurried after her, feeling anxious. Why hadn’t Thora come to meet him? Where could she be? What had happened to her?
Hairydog led him towards the place where they’d camped the night before, but now it was surrounded by a swarm of people. Oddo began to run.
‘Let me pass!’ he cried, elbowing his way through the crowd.
He reached the front, panting with anxiety. Hairydog was waiting, her mouth open in a grin, but Thora, kneeling among her herbs and jars, didn’t even notice him. A strange girl was beside her, and their two heads were close together.
‘Thora!’ yelled Oddo.
Thora’s head jerked up.
‘Oddo!’ she cried. ‘How did it go?’
Before he could answer, a large woman at the front of the crowd turned on him angrily.
‘Hey!’ she said. ‘Wait your turn!’
The other customers rumbled agreement. Oddo shrugged.