Magnus spit on the ground. “Yes, all right. I shall permit it.”
The crowd murmured its approval.
Esme was nervous and nauseous. Both warriors were formidable fighters and, handicapped equally, either could win. If fate was cruel and Stein failed, she’d belong to Magnus. She shuddered as she glanced at the older man.
Limping heavily, he moved slowly toward the designated combat zone. Erik helped him step over the rope and handed him one of the shields.
Esme cringed as she watched Stein jab his sword into the air a few times with his weaker, non-combat arm. His grimace confirmed that his burns were still painful.
He stepped over the rope onto the cloth, accepted a shield from Erik, and took his place just a few feet from Magnus. The two of them glared at each other like mad dogs about to fight to the death.
Erik held up his right hand. “The hólmgang will begin when I lower my hand. Magnus, as the challenged party, shall strike the first blow.”
Esme and Ulla exchanged worried glances.
His face filled with grim determination, Magnus raised his sword above his head, waiting for the signal. Erik dropped his hand in a brisk chopping motion, and Magnus swooped his weapon down in a vicious arc.
Fortunately, Stein easily deflected the blow with his shield. Then it was his turn. He aimed at Magnus’s side, but the older man shielded himself well and the blow glanced off.
“Is this how it goes?” Esme asked Ulla. “They just stand there and take turns banging away at each other with their swords?”
Ulla nodded. “Yes, that’s how the hólmgang is done. It was created to stop the blood feuds that erupt so often between families. If the fight is stopped at first blood and both men live, then their families will have no reason to retaliate and a blood feud can be avoided.”
“But what if someone’s killed?”
“Then the victor must pay the family wergild, the sum to be determined beforehand.”
“In this case?”
“There is no wergild."
“They don’t have to kill each other, right?”
“No, they don't, but it often happens anyway.”
The sharp rap of steel against wood drew their attention. Blow after blow, each man tried to pound the other into submission. Stein fought valiantly with his weaker arm, but Esme could see it was unnatural for him. Magnus also fought well and was already on his second shield.
“What happens if they run out of shields?” Esme asked.
“Each man gets three shields. When they are used up, he must stand and defend himself with just his weapon. That’s when blood is usually drawn.”
“Yeah, I bet.”
Stein’s shield snapped in two under a particularly heavy blow by Magnus, and Erik dutifully handed his half-brother another one.
“This is barbaric,” Esme said under her breath.
“Barbaric? This is civilized compared to the einvigi. There were no rules then. They fought like madmen, hacking and maiming each other until one or both of them died. The bystanders usually got involved as well. It was chaos, and much blood was spilled.”
“I can imagine.”
“That is why the hólmgang was introduced. If fewer people die in a duel, there will be fewer blood feuds.”
“That makes sense, I guess.”
Magnus roared. “I will be the father of Esme’s child. Your seed is worthless.”
“You’ll never touch her, old man,” Stein snarled as he landed a strong blow, cracking Magnus’s second shield.
Esme picked at her thumb nail. It was sheer agony watching them fight. Every time Stein took a blow, her heart lurched and her knees wobbled.
On they fought, hurling insults and circling each other in a strange sort of dance. On the sidelines, the onlookers screamed and shouted for their favorite. Bang! Crash! Blows rained down on each other’s shields, one after the other, until only Magnus’s shield remained.
Esme was so worked up, she’d begun to gnaw on her thumb nail. She glanced at Ulla, who wore an anxious expression and nervously toyed with one of the silver chains she wore about her neck.
“I’ll fuck her till the blood runs down her legs,” Magnus taunted. “My seed will take root inside her, and she will bear my son as a gift to the gods.”
Esme’s tummy did a half gainer.
“Never!” Stein growled like a lion. He parried Magnus’s furious whack, then struck a vicious blow of his own, splitting Magnus’s shield in two. Now they were even.
Esme had drawn first blood herself. She’d torn her thumb nail past the quick and had to suck on it to stem the bleeding.
The men now faced each other without shields. Both were fatigued and their haggard expressions revealed their pain, but Magnus was in the worst shape. Sweating profusely, he wheezed and gasped, trying to suck up as much oxygen as he could. He rubbed the thigh of his bad leg as if it were a magic lamp that could miraculously heal itself.
Stein wasn’t in great shape either, judging from his strained expression and the way he limply dangled his sword at his side. Neither man could go on much longer.
After a brief pause, Magnus prepared to deliver his next blow. Raising his sword with effort, he grimaced. “Damn you, Stein!” He brought his weapon down haphazardly.
Stein parried the blade and struck back with a slash at Magnus’s good leg.
Magnus defended himself, but the effort proved too much. Sinking to his knees, the sword dropped out of his hand, and he cried out pitifully as his bad leg bore the brunt of his fall. A large, bright red stain spread across the white linen bandages.
The crowd gasped and Gudrun ran toward her husband. “Stop!” she shouted. “Erik, stop this now. Your father cannot continue.”
“No!” Magnus boomed. “Do not interfere, woman. This will continue until blood is drawn.”
Rooted to the spot, Stein glared at his father. His face was filled with a blend of emotions: anger, hatred, indecision, pity and resignation. Esme knew this was the moment he’d been waiting for. The moment when he could finally avenge his honor. He could easily strike the weaker man, even land a killing blow, but he did neither.
“Blood has been drawn, Magnus,” he said, throwing his sword to the ground. “Your leg wounds have reopened. It is enough.”
Gasps of disbelief went up from the crowd, while Esme’s knees nearly buckled with relief.
“Why do you stop, bastard?” Magnus cried. “Fight me until one of us has won. I will not lose this way, you spineless worm.”
Stein didn’t move. “You’re not fit to continue, old man, and I won’t strike you when you’re down. It’s over.”
Grunting, Magnus tried to get to his feet, but could not. “Help me, Erik!”
Erik’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction. “The hólmgang is ended, Father. Stein is the victor.”
“No, it is not!” Magnus snatched up his sword and shook it at Stein. “You coward! You won’t fight me because you lack the courage to lose.”
“I won’t fight you because you’ve already lost,” Stein shouted back.
“It is not ended until one of us has drawn the blood of the other.” Magnus glared at Stein. “Pick up your weapon and fight me.”
Stein removed his helmet and tossed it away. “No. There is no honor in fighting a man who is already wounded.”
“Fight me, damn you!” Magnus’s voice cracked with fatigue and frustration.
Stein yanked the sword from his father’s hand. “It’s over, Magnus. I’ve won. I’m standing and you are not.”
Not a sound could be heard as Magnus sat in a heap on the ground, his face bright red with fury, pain and humiliation.
He glared at Erik. “Will you help me rise?”
Erik climbed awkwardly over the rope and, with great effort, got Magnus to his feet.
“Take your sword, Father, and go home,” Stein said quietly, placing the weapon in Magnus’s hand.
"You gutless coward!" Magnus whipped off his helmet and threw it o
n the ground. His dark eyes blazing, he raised his blade high to strike Stein.
The crowd sucked in a collective breath, but Stein didn’t move a muscle. Like a soldier at attention, he stood proudly, chin up, and looked his father squarely in the eye.
“No!” Esme shouted, running toward them. “Erik, stop him!”
“Father, no!” Erik grabbed Magnus’s sword arm, but the older man pivoted and pushed his son with such force, he stumbled backwards over the rope and fell hard onto the ground.
“Stop!” Ulla’s high, clear voice rang out. She stepped toward Magnus, her demeanor as fierce as a Valkyrie. “Stay your hand, Magnus!”
“Don’t be a fool, Magnus,” Gudrun yelled as she and Sigrid helped Erik to his feet.
“Would you execute your own son?” Ulla’s voice cut through the crisp, chill air. “Not even you could be that cold-blooded.”
“Is he my son?” Magnus cried in a rough voice. He held the sword with both hands, ready to cleave Stein’s head from his neck.
Stein continued to glare at his father and did not waver.
Ulla drew closer to Magnus, tears streaming down her face. “Yes. For better or for worse, he is Stein Magnuson, your son. It was your brother who lied, not I.” She held out her hands to him. “I loved you too much.”
The world seemed suspended in time. No one said a word or moved an inch. Not even the birds dared to chirp.
Magnus stared at her for a long moment, and then his expression softened, briefly, before it twisted into a sneer. “So you say!” he bellowed, throwing his sword on the ground in disgust.
He climbed over the rope with Gudrun’s help and threw Stein one last hateful glare. Sweat rolled down his grim face, but he held his head high and limped back to his longhouse, neither victor nor vanquished.
Stein’s face was hard as granite, his jaw clamped hard like he had lockjaw. Without a word to anyone, he stalked back to his own longhouse. His sword and helmet lay on the ground where he’d thrown them.
Ulla ran up to Esme, taking her by the hand. “This is not good.”
“But both of them are alive.”
“Both of them have lost face. There is no honor in that.”
Dread settled over Esme like a shroud. The battle between Stein and his father was not over.
Not by a long shot.
*****
Stein shouted and cursed as he rummaged through chests and baskets searching for the items he would need on his travels. The floor, table and side benches were littered with clothing, armor, swords, and the rest of his belongings.
Damn, Magnus! It was time to leave the settlement and the clan. Forever.
Esme and Ulla ran through the door and stopped dead in their tracks.
Ulla looked dumbfounded. “Stein, what are you doing?”
“I can stay here no longer, Mother. I’m leaving.”
“Leaving? But where will you go?” Ulla began picking things up off the floor and putting them back in their proper place. “You can’t just leave.”
He stopped. “Why not? I am a free man, Haakon is dead, and Erik is safe.”
“You are bound to Magnus, as am I. As is Erik, Gudrun, Sigrid, all of us.” She swept her arm toward Esme. “Even she is duty bound to him.”
“That’s no longer my concern,” he said, continuing to pack. “For many years I’ve wanted to set sail for Iceland to start a new life.” He lowered his voice. “I wanted to break from Magnus long before he took Margit. I must forge my own destiny, Mother. I cannot bear to live another day under his tyranny.”
Ulla’s jaw slackened. “I see. Your mind is made up?”
“Yes. Did Esme not tell you of my desire?”
“No.” Turning to Esme, she spread her hands, palm up. “Why didn’t you tell me, girl?”
“I promised I wouldn’t,” Esme said, gazing at Stein.
Nodding, he smiled at her, and a warm sensation spread through his chest. She had kept his secret. He could trust her. Trust her with his life.
“I must go, Mother. If I’m ever to be my own man, I must leave now.” He glanced at Esme. “And she is coming with me.”
Esme smiled, but she wore a puzzled expression.
Ulla plopped down on a stool, all the air gone out of her. “Of course. You must do as you see fit, my son.”
“Mother, you may join us if you wish. You would be most welcome.”
“Yes, come with us,” Esme urged, still looking uncertain.
Ulla stared at the floor. “I’m too old to begin again.”
“No, you’re not.” Esme put her hand on Ulla’s shoulder. “Besides, I need your instruction.”
Ulla lifted her gaze. “Thank you, child, but I shall remain here.” She looked at Stein with sad eyes. “It is time for you to make your own way in the world. I see that now. There can be no reconciliation between you and Magnus.”
“I don’t want to leave you here, Mother.” He wanted to go to her, let her embrace him and kiss him, but he was her little boy no longer.
“I will be fine. Magnus will not retaliate against me. Perhaps Gudrun and I can put aside our differences and, with Erik’s help, work together to heal the rifts Magnus has created within the clan.” She shrugged. “Besides, I would just slow you down.”
“Then I will send for you once we are established in our new home. Esme will need your help with the children.”
“Children?” Esme exclaimed, her eyes round with wonder.
“Yes, of course. You shall be my wife. Together we will start a family and, in time, our own clan will be established.”
“But why Iceland?” Her eyes held a wild look, as if the place were as remote as the moon.
“It’s a new land, where a man may lose his past and begin again. It’s also far away from Magnus.”
His mother approached him tearfully and threw her arms about his waist. “May the gods grant you both safe passage and a long and fruitful life.” She pressed her face against his chest. “I hate to lose you,” she looked at Esme, “both of you, but I understand and must let you go. You will be happy together, I know.”
He hugged her close, his mind flooded with memories. “Thank you, Mother.” His heart spilled over as he crushed her to his chest. “I love you.”
*****
Esme almost lost it as she watched Stein and his mother. Flooded with emotions, she thought of her father and wondered what was happening back home. He must be frantic over her disappearance. No doubt she was a ‘missing person’ by now and the subject of a massive search all over the state. Flyers with her staff photo from the college were probably posted at every supermarket and gas station in Minnesota.
She needed to get back home, but she wanted to be with Stein. She gazed at him with stars in her eyes. “Do you really want to marry me?” she asked softly, humbly.
He strode toward her and took her in his arms. “Yes, very much.”
She stared up at him with awe. “And get me pregnant?”
“Yes, many times.”
A tremor of fear, or maybe excitement, shot up Esme’s spine. Holy moley! Barefoot and pregnant in Iceland. She pictured them standing before their stone hut, the icy wind whipping around them, freezing the blood in their veins. She held a baby in her arms, the little bundle of joy gurgling with glee as he played with his father’s finger. Stein’s finger. Her husband’s finger.
She made her mental screen fade to black. How could she go to Iceland? She had to return to Asgard and her father. Not only did she need to help him fight his cancer, there was also the matter of the map and saving his academic reputation. Wasn’t that the main reason she’d been sent back in time?
Yes, but Stein was part of the plan, too. She was certain of that now.
Crap! What was she supposed to do?
The door suddenly banged open like it’d been hit by a battering ram. Ulla and Esme screamed as five husky warriors with swords and axes blasted in and surrounded them.
“Step away from the woman,” ordered
the leader, a man as tall as Stein and nearly as commanding.
“What are you up to, Grima?” Stein rumbled, his eyes flashing.
“I said, step away from the woman. She’s coming with us.”
“Oh, no, she’s not,” Stein growled. He spun around, searching desperately for the sword that still lay outside on the hólmgang cloak.
“Lost your sword?” Grima taunted.
“Damn you,” Stein shot back. His eyes filled with cold fury as he advanced on the man. “If you want Esme, you’ll have to kill me first.”
“That shouldn’t be a problem,” Grima spat back. “Seize him, men!”
The other warriors attacked Stein. Two of them grabbed his arms while another clasped his neck in a wrestling hold. Stein struggled, but he was held fast, a human punching bag for the fifth warrior, who slammed his fists over and over into Stein’s gut. The last man clubbed him over the head with an axe handle, knocking him unconscious. A trickle of blood crawled down the side of his face as he slumped into his attackers’ arms.
“Stein!” Ulla and Esme screamed, running toward him.
“Stay away, Ulla,” Grima shouted, motioning one of his men to keep her back.
Grima seized Esme and easily subdued her by wrapping one hand around her throat and the other around her waist.
Stein lay on his back, out cold.
“Take him, men,” Grima instructed.
“Take him? Where?” Ulla shouted.
Grima held her throat so tightly, Esme could only squeal her objection.
“That’s none of your business,” Grima answered. He angled his head toward the door, signaling his men to drag Stein out of the house.
Esme struggled to free herself, kicking Grima repeatedly in the shin. His hand loosened briefly, and she managed to shout one word. “Stein!”
“Shut up, witch!” Grima yelled and slapped her hard. Her head slumped backwards as a million bright stars exploded behind her eyes.
Then everything went black.
CHAPTER 19
When Esme came to, she was lying on a bed in Magnus’s longhouse, dizzy and disoriented. He sat next to her, stroking her breasts and abdomen through the coarse fabric of her dress.
Vanquishing A Viking Page 20