Ragnar the Just (Ragnar the Dane #3)

by Byrne, Lily

  “What do you care anyway? Go back to bed, for the Gods’ sake.”

  Mildrith appeared and put her arm round Lini. “What’s happening?”

  Ragnar explained tersely and they took Kjartan away into the drizzly, grey night.

  *

  They put Kjartan in the room always used for those awaiting trial, which was sparsely furnished with a table, benches at the side, a torch to give light, and a dirt floor. He’d been here before, when he was on trial for the murder of Eadbald. How long ago that seemed, and how he and his life had changed. Back then, the crime had been all about money; this one about revenge.

  Two Huskarls were guarding him - one a trainee, a former friend of Styrkar. It was easy to frighten him. Kjartan only had to make a sudden movement and he jumped.

  The other man was stolid and unshakeable.

  “Don’t waste your time on me. I don’t scare easily,” he said. “I can’t believe you got away with the last murder. I can’t believe the Jarl, Steinar and Ragnar were so soft.” He spat. “Especially considering what sort of man you are now. Or should I say, woman.”

  Kjartan shrugged.

  *

  “It’s weird,” said Ragnar as he got into bed with Aelfwyn later. “I expected Silverhair to resist, escape, be aggressive when we went to get him, but he just said ‘alright’ and came along with us.”

  “It’s not like him,” she agreed, cuddling up. “You’re so cold. Let me warm you.”

  “Mm.” He wrapped his arms round her. “It’s like the fight’s gone out of him.”

  “Let’s not talk about him. I’m so tired. Let’s sleep.”

  They snuggled down contentedly, until one of their little children woke and started crying again.

  *

  “Why can’t I see my husband?” Mildrith stood at the doorway to the Jarl’s hall, her way blocked by two Huskarls.

  “Er – he – er …” stuttered one.

  “Is he injured?”

  “No. He doesn’t want to see you.”

  “Why not?”

  “Don’t know.”

  “But I might never see him again! He’s going to be tried and probably executed, or exiled and -”

  “Listen!” The senior Huskarl put his hands on her shoulders and glared into her face. “We can’t force him to see you, so better just go home, housewife.”

  Mildrith flinched, but stared back at him. He wouldn’t relent though, so she turned and trudged back home.

  *

  “Why don’t you want to see your wife?” asked the older guard.

  Kjartan shrugged.

  “It was your female wife, not your male one, by the way.” His tone wasn’t altogether sneering, more resigned.

  “Fuck off.”

  “Why did you kill Styrkar?”

  He didn’t answer. He was thinking about his ‘male wife’. Why hadn’t Lini come to visit? Was he spending his time fucking Mildrith? They suited each other; it was probably better they were together and he was out of the way. He’d heard Lini wake up in the night, terrified, and Mildrith whispering to him, comforting him. He’d lain on the heap of bearskins, desperate to go over and comfort him too, but hadn’t wanted to interfere.

  *

  At home, Lini was deep in thought. He helped Mildrith with the cloth weaving now, to free her for other tasks. He still only left the home infrequently so liked to help out there to keep busy.

  His mind was preoccupied with Styrkar. He had deserved death. He was a cruel, perverted demon. How he wished the rape had never happened. Why had he worked alone in the forge that day without waiting for Kjartan? What bad decisions he’d made lately. Allowing himself to be attacked, then having sex with another man’s wife. No wonder Kjartan despised him. Both of those things were not how a respectable Dane should live.

  But Kjartan was a rapist and he deserved a punishment. Surely it would only be a fine for what he’d done to Styrkar, or would the Jarl favour exile? He didn’t know what to think anymore. His thoughts were banging about in his skull like trapped flies. One minute he thought one thing, the next minute, another.

  Maybe he was going insane.

  The trial

  “So, here we are again, Kjartan,” said Jarl Thorvald the next day. “For the second time in two years you are accused of murder.”

  Kjartan stood in front of him, hands tied, head bowed. The cool wind whipped his unwashed hair, dark with dirt, into his face.

  “You were seen throwing the body into the fenland, but unfortunately for you, it didn’t submerge, and Styrkar was clutching your seax to him in the grip of death. It is well known that seax belongs to you. Were you so arrogant you thought you’d escape justice again? What have you to say for yourself?”

  “Nothing.”

  Lini and Mildrith sat together in the crowd. They looked like they were holding hands, while Dalla wriggled on her mother’s knee.

  “I have lost patience with you. You evaded sentencing when you murdered Eadbald, and not only that, you absconded with my wife. It was only your heroic intervention with the wolf cult last year which made me decide to let you return. And of course your marriage to the shoemaker’s unfortunate widow.” He gestured to Mildrith. “But now you have murdered a respected Huskarl who was in the process of being trained to fill the very gaps left by those murdered by the wolf cult. What is your defence? Why did you murder Styrkar?”

  “He was taunting me, calling me ergi. I grew tired of it and killed him. He deserved it. He was a coward.”

  The Jarl paused, tapping his fingers on the table, as the crowd laughed, jeered, and tutted while pulling their cloaks round themselves in the autumn wind.

  “You’d be justified if that accusation was false, but I have to say, it isn’t. You live with Lini and Mildrith, but it is well known that you and Lini are lovers. Styrkar was one of the bravest Huskarls and a promising novice.”

  Kjartan shrugged. Everyone would be shocked when Lini and Mildrith married after he’d been executed. He was pleased to think his lover’s reputation would be repaired.

  “Arnbjorn, please enlighten us.”

  The law sayer stepped forward.

  “For the murder of a man in cold blood, the punishment is execution or exile, especially when the victim is a respected person of the village, a soldier who could contribute much to society. For someone who has murdered before, the punishment should be more severe. In a case where the accused has escaped prior punishment, he should also be more harshly disciplined.”

  “I cannot think of a case where a murderer has escaped punishment,” said the Jarl. His new wife Rachel sat beside him, glaring at Kjartan, her almost black eyes unnerving him. The Jarl continued talking, asking the twelve Huskarls to vote on the verdict, but Kjartan’s attention wandered.

  He was reminded of the last time when he had been on trial with the Jarl’s former wife, Yngvild. How he’d loved her, but he’d been unceremoniously discarded by her in favour of another after everything he’d done for her. He looked over at Lini. Another who didn’t love him anymore.

  “Kjartan. Pay attention!” barked the Jarl. “The Huskarls are unanimous. I must sentence you to execution, Kjartan Flokisson. To be carried out within the week.”

  The crowd cheered. Some of the Huskarls, friends of Styrkar, grinned at each other. Lini gasped in horror, shaken out of the daze he’d been submerged in since the rape.

  Kjartan nodded. He didn’t care what happened now. Lini didn’t love him, so nothing mattered. He could live happily with Mildrith instead. And Dalla loved Lini better than she loved her own father.

  Two Huskarls took Kjartan by the arms and prepared to take him away.

  Lini stepped forward.

  “My lord,” said Ragnar to the Jarl, indicating the amber smith.

  “Yes, Lini? You have something to say?”

  “I have. I killed Styrkar.”

  The crowd gasped. The autumn-bright leaves of the trees waved in the wind, as if they were cheering Lini’s
statement.

  “Shush!” said Kjartan. Why was Lini making this worse?

  “Don’t shush me! I want to tell the truth.”

  “Why did you kill him?” asked the Jarl.

  “Because – because - he raped me.”

  More gasps and jeers from the crowd.

  “Tell me what happened,” demanded the Jarl, his eyebrows raised.

  “He attacked me at my forge. He knocked me out, tied me to the table and raped me, so I got the knife from my boot and stabbed him to death.”

  The crowd shouted in uproar and the Huskarls had to walk round to keep order while the scene flashed unavoidably through Lini’s mind.

  *

  It hadn’t taken long for Styrkar to jerk to a standstill. Every thrust had felt like he was stabbing Lini, but at last he drew himself out, panting and rubbing his cock.

  “Gods,” he murmured. “You won’t forget that.”

  Lini was shaking with pain, shock and fear. Styrkar wasn’t going to do it again, was he? But luckily he was bending unsteadily to pull up his trousers.

  Suddenly, Lini’s wrist shackles snapped. He hadn’t realised he’d been pulling so hard on them. Styrkar didn’t seem to have noticed. He was now crouching on the floor, panting. He’d obviously had far too much to drink and was still getting over Kjartan beating him up.

  Any of the glass making tools would have made a good weapon, but they were nowhere near him, so agonisingly, Lini curled down towards the seax in his boot, the one Kjartan insisted he carry at all times, bless him. He drew the knife out, slowly, carefully, and hid it against his wrist.

  Styrkar looked up and rose to standing, stepping towards the shackled man.

  “That’s what you get for being ergi. If that doesn’t teach you to love women, nothing will.”

  Lini flung himself at him with all his strength, not caring about his own safety. One of his feet bindings broke and he thrust the knife at Styrkar, and caught him in the guts, pushing it in as hard as he could, twisting and turning it in his flesh, making him groan in agony.

  “That’s how it feels,” Lini snarled. “When someone sticks something in you that you don’t want.”

  One foot was still tied to the table so he was trapped with the injured man, who pulled the knife out with a mud-like slurping sound and waved it at Lini, who easily dodged and crawled back to the table and fought with the rope tying his foot.

  Styrkar began making strange groaning, gurgling sounds, but Lini didn’t stop to listen. He staggered off towards home, hobbling with pain and covered in Styrkar’s blood.

  *

  Silence from the crowd now. All that could be heard was the sound of the water mill and distant calls from men working in the fields.

  “Why did he rape you? I don’t understand,” said the Jarl.

  “He’d been stirring up trouble for me and Kjartan since people found out about us. He and his gang said they - he wanted to - to teach me a lesson, prove how manly he was.”

  The Jarl nodded. “I can see his motive, although it is extreme. You should have defended yourself better.”

  “As I said, he knocked me out and tied me up while I was unconscious. So it was hardly a fair fight.”

  Lini stared at the Jarl and wouldn’t lower his eyes.

  “This changes everything. Sit down, Huskarls.”

  They did so, leaving Kjartan standing alone.

  “In that case, Lini, why was Kjartan disposing of the body and not you?”

  “Because I - I couldn’t go back to the forge. He did it to help me.” He gulped, shooting a quick look at the defendant.

  “I see. So Kjartan is now the accomplice to a murder. That complicates things.”

  “And Styrkar and his gang were the ones who vandalised Lini’s forge. He admitted it,” added Kjartan quickly, “so he can’t even work anymore as his kiln is destroyed.”

  The Jarl frowned. “What a cowardly act and damaging to our village’s welfare. We need glass urgently. I will order a kiln to be made at once.” He made a sign to Steinar, who nodded.

  He summarized the situation aloud, then Arnbjorn related the legal aspects, which were basically the same as before. Lini wasn’t listening. He felt sick and trembled where he stood.

  The crowd’s murmurs grew louder and louder. Kjartan stared at Lini, worried by his pallor.

  “It is correct that you were dishonoured for allowing him to rape you, but you regained your honour by killing him,” said the Jarl finally.

  “You are heroic, Lini,” interrupted Rachel, her ebony eyes flashing. “The scriptures say ‘take an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth’. You have done well.” She stepped towards Lini and patted him on the arm.

  “Yes,” agreed the Jarl. His strong-willed wife was always right. “Why didn’t you tell us all this, Kjartan?”

  “I was protecting him. I didn’t want him ridiculed for being raped.”

  “Well, that is an honourable motive. I must say I am pleasantly surprised. What do the twelve men say?”

  The Huskarls conferred among themselves. Ragnar, as head of the group, stepped up with the verdict.

  “It is even, my lord. Six believe Lini should be punished, six don’t.”

  “Hm.” The Jarl spoke aside to his wife, who replied passionately, gesturing, frowning. Kjartan eyed Lini admiringly.

  “I don’t believe Lini should be punished,” said the Jarl. “He stood up for himself and fought his own battle. Kjartan shouldn’t be punished either as he didn’t do anything but protect his – er - friend. Release him.”

  Ragnar stepped up and cut the ropes binding Kjartan’s wrists.

  “Cheer up,” he said. “You’re innocent for once.”

  Kjartan gave a weak smile. In a way this was worse than death. Now he’d have to watch Lini and Mildrith being happy in front of him.

  “I think instead they should pay fines to Styrkar’s family. His parents are grief-stricken,” said the Jarl, looking at the older couple with set, pale faces, sitting at the front of the onlookers.

  He turned to address them.

  “It is true that your son was murdered, but it was entirely due to his own actions, rather than in cold blood. Lini is a respected craftsman who should not have been assaulted, therefore he was simply recovering his honour. It was also a grave misdeed to destroy his workshop.”

  He turned to the law sayer.

  “I suggest the minimum fine. Lini cannot pay if he has no work and he has been grievously wronged so does not deserve harshness.”

  Arnbjorn began working out the fine with his assistant, frowning over the details. The Jarl turned to the crowd.

  “This matter came about due to the harassment of residents of Hallby. I will not tolerate it! Lini and Kjartan are both married men and they have done their manly duty by fathering children with their wives. So their current relationship is of no consequence. As everyone knows, accusations of ergi and sansorthinn are illegal, so if this happens again, the accusers will be punished. I will not have unrest in my village! The sexual assault of a man by another man is only done in battle as a way of humiliating an enemy. It should not be used against a member of our own kin.”

  The crowd and Huskarls muttered among themselves mutinously. Some birds flying south for the winter began calling to each other, as if joining in the unrest.

  As Kjartan suspected, Mildrith came forward and put her arm round Lini as he still appeared pale and exhausted. How brave he’d been to risk telling all and how fortunate the Jarl was merciful.

  “Thank you, my lord,” Kjartan said to Thorvald. He wanted to apologise for taking Yngvild but didn’t want to annoy him.

  “In a way, you did me a favour two years ago.” The Jarl seemed determined to bring up the subject anyway. “Yngvild was a two-faced deceiver, and I’ve now found true love in Rachel.”

  He smiled at her as she self-consciously patted her black, wavy locks. She couldn’t be more different to Yngvild, who had been tall with golden hair and an air
of modesty - false modesty, as it turned out.

  “Come home now,” said Mildrith happily, plucking at Kjartan’s sleeve. “Come home with us.”

  She put her arm through his as Lini led the way, carrying Dalla, and Kjartan watched the back of his neck and the caramel coloured hair which was starting to grow over it again.

  Dalla began to cry so Mildrith hurried on home to feed her, while the men followed slowly.

  “Thanks for saving me from execution,” Kjartan said as they walked. He held out his hand and Lini shook it.

  “For Odin’s sake, I wasn’t going to let you die for something you hadn’t done, was I?”

  “But you could have been executed for murder instead!” He’d planned exactly what to say. “I didn’t want that. You and Mildrith deserve to be happy together. I didn’t want you to be separated. So I’m going to leave and go to Gippeswick, so you can …”

  His words tailed off at Lini’s expression, mouth open, brow creased.

  “What? Me and Mildrith? What the hell are you talking about?”

  “I know it’s her you want. You’re both good people, and you both always do the right thing,” Kjartan blurted. “I’m not. I always fuck everything up and -”

  Lini pulled his arm to make him stop walking.

  “What the hell’s wrong with you? I don’t want Mildrith! She’s nice but I don’t want her like that!”

  “But I know you’ve been – been - having sex with her. I heard you!”

  “It was just the once!”

  Aware of passers-by listening, Lini pushed him off the path into the woods, the brown, orange, yellow and read leaves providing ample disguise.

  “We just had sex once. It was after the rape and I was confused. I just wanted to feel like a man again. It was nice and everything but it’s not her I want, you witless, violent fool!” Tears gathered in his eyes.

  “I - I thought I’d leave you both to be happy with Dalla. Have more children perhaps.”

  “I don’t want that! I want you to stay! All I’ve been doing is talking to her about you!”

  Lini stroked Kjartan’s cheek, running his thumb over the scar and towards his lips. The wind swished the leaves, blowing some of them gently onto the two men.

  “So you don’t think I meant you deserved to be raped?” That was his deepest fear.