by Peter Fox
‘He didn’t do what you think he did,’ Rathulf insisted. ‘Alrik was…’ He stopped himself, unwilling to state that Alrik understandably wanted everyone to go after Ivar to get him back for making him so scared that he peed himself. Nor did he wish to point out that Alrik’s fury was mostly for Rathulf, who was the cause of the disaster in the first place.
‘Was what, Thorvaldarsson?’ Bardi snapped. ‘Are you branding him a liar now?’
They had been through this once already the evening they had returned. Now, three days later, Bardi had become more determined than ever to seek revenge for his son’s sullying, as he put it. He had called upon the nearby settlements for a conference and had sent word to the outlying areas for the men to gather in arms at his hall as soon as possible.
‘Rathulf is not accusing anyone of anything,’ Helga said diplomatically. ‘But if what he says is true, then this is a matter best dealt with in the assembly. After all, Alrik hasn’t been all that forthcoming about what was done to him. I know I was as keen as you for retribution at first, but I think we should be a little more careful. Especially when we name witnesses.’
‘Such as who?’ Bardi protested, spreading his arms. ‘The only witness present says nothing happened!’
‘Then perhaps you should believe him!’ Helga responded angrily. ‘Get a grip on yourself brother. What do you propose to do? Sail over to Ivar’s and take sword to him?’
‘Yes, sister dear,’ Bardi responded caustically, ‘that is precisely what I intend to do.’
‘Has it occurred to you at any stage in all this blustering that even if what you claim happened is true, you can’t under the law go and take action?’
‘Damn the law!’
‘Very well, if you don’t care about the law, then what about Eirik. Ivar is one of his men, remember, and Horik, in turn, one of Ivar’s.’
‘So? Eirik should know better than harbouring a criminal like Ivar. I have a mind to take Eirik to the Althing over this. It’s time that scumbag was brought to account for his actions.’
‘Who, Eirik or Ivar?’ Helga said.
‘Let’s be careful with our name-calling,’ Sigvald broke in. ‘It’s not entirely Eirik’s fault, and as irritating as he might be, he can hardly be blamed for Ivar’s behaviour.’
‘Afternoon,’ came a voice near the door. ‘I’ve heard there’s a call to arms.’
Rathulf leapt out of his skin at the sound of Eirik’s voice. Bardi turned a shade paler, while Sigvald stood rooted to the spot, not sure where to look.
‘Ah, jarl Eirik,’ one of the other men said, reaching for the mead jug. ‘Welcome to this hall. May I offer a cup to quench your thirst?’
Sigvald glanced at Rathulf, who in turn looked back at the jarl wide-eyed. What was Eirik doing here, and had he heard the exchange between Bardi, Helga and Sigvald?
‘I’m sorry,’ Eirik said lightly. ‘I appear to have intruded at an inopportune moment.’ He laughed. ‘Goodness, you weren’t talking about me, were you?’
‘Not at all, Eirik,’ Helga said, bustling her way into the awkward silence. ‘The menfolk are a little upset is all. Please, take a seat.’
Eirik beamed at her and settled into the chair she had offered, then took a long swig from the mug. He caught Rathulf’s eye, and the young Viking flushed.
‘You’ve quite a knack for finding trouble, young man,’ he said smoothly.
Rathulf didn’t know what to say. ‘I–,’ he began but was cut off by Bardi.
‘That disgusting piece of scum of yours had his way with my son,’ Bardi said. ‘I intend seeking retribution for Ivar’s heinous acts, damn the law and damn you!’
Eirik seemed entirely unperturbed by Bardi’s exceptionally rude and inflammatory words. Instead, he took another sip of his mead and waved a dismissive hand at Alrik’s father. ‘You’re too late. I’ve already named witnesses on Alrik and Rathulf’s behalf, and that’s why I’m here now. There’s really no need for you all to come crashing into my fjord baying for the blood of one of my men. Apart from being unseemly, it would be incredibly stupid.’ He placed great emphasis on that last word. He rested his pale blue eyes squarely on Bardi. ‘I don’t know what Alrik has told you, but your lad is unsullied. Still a virgin, I’m sure.’ He looked over to Alrik. ‘Sorry about your karve, by the way. It was a lovely boat. What happened to it?’
‘What? You..!’ Alrik shouted, matching his father’s fury. Sigvald, who was standing next to him, clamped a hand over the boy’s mouth.
‘Are you calling my son a liar?’ Bardi growled.
‘No,’ Eirik responded smoothly. ‘Ivar did…’ he paused to find the right word, ‘handle the boy, but that’s all. He wanted to frighten Alrik, and clearly, he succeeded. Your fears for Alrik’s virtue are unfounded, however; whilst it’s true Ivar cares little about who or what he beds, his motivation in this case was money. I concede that had it been Ingrith or her sisters on that boat with Rathulf the outcome may have been very different, but fortune shines upon us, and it was Alrik. So perhaps you should believe Rathulf’s account because from what I heard outside just now, it is very much how it happened. Although I note he did leave out the bit where he took a sword to Ivar in defence of his friend. And did he also mention that he talked Ivar out of kidnapping them? No, I thought not. Alrik owes Rathulf a debt, Bardi, just as you all do me with regard to Horik.’
Sigvald looked at Rathulf with surprise. ‘Really?’
‘Reckless fool!’ Bardi snapped. ‘My son has been twice shamed because of him, and I expect compensation.’
‘Enough!’ Eirik commanded. He slammed down his mug and leapt to his feet. ‘If you don’t want to believe Rathulf, you can take it from the horse’s mouth.’
Eirik snapped his fingers, and there was a grunt from outside the door. To everyone’s astonishment, Ivar tumbled into the room, his arms bound behind his back. He crashed into the loom on the opposite side of the room, then fell to the floor, groaning. Even in the dim light of the hall, they could all see the dark bruises that marked his swollen face and arms, and dried blood caked his hair and chest.
Bardi stared at Ivar in astonishment, all his rage and indignation stolen from him in that single moment.
‘Ask him,’ Eirik challenged.
Bardi blinked, and when he didn’t speak, Eirik kicked Ivar hard in the side. ‘Tell them what you did,’ he said coldly.
‘I needed the money,’ Ivar said, his voice muffled by the floor and newly missing teeth. ‘When I lost those three ships last winter my creditors wanted blood. My blood.’ He paused, obviously in pain, then went on. ‘When the Wave Skimmer appeared, the idea came to me: I could seek a ransom for their return.’
‘And?’ Eirik said.
‘And…’ Ivar hesitated, so Eirik kicked him again, hard. Ivar croaked and drew his knees up to protect himself.
‘And?’ Eirik demanded again.
‘I was just trying to scare them,’ he said, ‘but I didn’t do anything more than just touch him!’ he insisted. ‘I realised it wouldn’t be worth the trouble to kidnap them given their connections, so I let them go unharmed.’
‘Unharmed? You licked me!’ Alrik cried, although it wasn’t quite how it had happened.
‘Disgusting animal!’ Bardi yelled, throwing himself at the prone criminal. Like Eirik before him, he kicked Ivar, wielding one blow for every word: ‘I’m–going–to–cut–off–your–balls–and–feed–them–to–my–dogs!’
Eirik made no attempt to restrain Bardi. For his part, Ivar curled more tightly, whimpering at every blow.
‘So,’ Eirik said once Bardi had finished. ‘There you have it from the man himself.’
‘Excrement,’ Bardi snarled, aiming a kick at Ivar’s face. The slaver’s head snapped back on impact, and for a moment Rathulf thought Bardi had killed the man, but Ivar’s torso still rose and fell to his fitful breathing.
Eirik turned to Alrik. ‘Do you have anything to add?’ he asked. ‘Is what he told the truth?
Alrik gave Eirik a long look before answering. ‘Yes,’ he muttered eventually.
‘Sorry, I didn’t quite hear that,’ Eirik said.
‘Yes!’ Alrik shouted. ‘Nothing happened. That’s what you want me to say isn’t it?’ He swore roundly then stormed from the hall, shoving Rathulf aside as he passed.
Rathulf moved to follow, but Eirik put his hand out to stop him.
‘Best leave him for a while. I know we say it was nothing, but to him it was everything. He has been shamed through no fault of his own.’
‘Rubbish,’ Bardi said, at last finding voice. ‘He brought it upon himself when he embarked on this reckless caper.’
‘Unwise perhaps,’ Eirik countered, ‘but also brave and honourable. Far be it from me to interfere with the discipline of your sons, but if it were me, I’d not be over-hard on them. Their intentions were sound. You should be proud of Rathulf. He went to his friend’s aid without hesitation, despite being injured and hopelessly outnumbered. And I can say precisely the same for Alrik, who I watched with my own eyes step up to his friend’s side even though he knew that at best he would be facing the Assembly for his part in the assault on my brother; at worst, death.’
‘Hmm,’ Sigvald said, although he did seem a little less annoyed having heard Eirik’s revelations. ‘It was still a reckless act.’
‘No, Sigvald, it wasn’t. They were both scared out of their wits; Rathulf could barely hold his sword he was shaking so much and Alrik, well…’ He paused when he caught Rathulf’s angry glare.
‘How dare you. My son is no coward!’ Bardi said with indignation, but Eirik stopped him with a raised hand.
‘I didn’t say he was; quite the opposite in fact. That neither was equipped for the challenge is irrelevant. Could they have foreseen the perils that awaited them when they set out? Unlikely. Yet despite their obvious fear when they did find themselves in trouble, they didn’t turn and run. They proceeded side-by-side without pause. That is courage.’
Rathulf stared at the powerful jarl, astonished. Are you actually complimenting me?
‘And how did you come to know all this?’ Bardi asked coldly.
‘You are already aware that I was present at my brother’s when the boys landed. On the following day, on my way home, I came upon him,’ he nodded at Ivar’s unconscious form on the floor. ‘I was content to let him pass, but something in his manner felt wrong. I know a guilty conscience when I see one,’ he added, throwing a glance at Rathulf. ‘So I paused to exchange the usual pleasantries, and that was when I spotted Alrik’s tunic on the deck. I’ve no idea why Ivar hadn’t disposed of it, maybe he was holding it as keepsake, but in any case,’ he continued, talking over Bardi’s objection, ‘there it was, and the expression of dread that filled Ivar’s eyes when he realised I’d seen it told me all I needed to know. He gave up without a fight, which I confess was a little disappointing, but it shows the true nature of the man, does it not? I asked a couple of questions, got some answers, then brought him here.’
He nodded at one of the two men who had brought Ivar into the hall. The Viking handed the jarl a bundle, which Eirik, in turn, offered to Bardi. ‘Your son’s, I believe?’
Bardi took the clothes and frowned at them, then he put them aside, his face showing his distaste.
Sigvald let out a long breath. ‘Then we truly are in your debt,’ he said. ‘Thank you, Eirik.’
‘I understand you have been to my brother’s?’ Eirik asked.
Sigvald nodded. ‘Is any of what he told me true?’ Sigvald asked.
Eirik shrugged. ‘I’m afraid I don’t know what passed between you, but I’ve little doubt whatever story my kinsman told you probably lacked important details. As I’ve said, you should ask Rathulf.’
‘And what of Leif?’ Bardi challenged. ‘If the boy was in danger before, then what fate awaits him now?’
‘My men are out looking for him as we speak,’ Eirik said calmly, ‘but you have my word that Horik will not harm the boy; I have warned him of the consequences should he do so.’ When Bardi looked back at him sceptically, Eirik added, ‘you’re just going to have to trust me to deal with my brother in this matter. Which brings me to the other reason I have come here today and I’m sorry to say, it concerns Rathulf and Horik.’
Rathulf’s heart skipped a beat. Eirik had said nothing more would come of that! Eirik saw the alarm on Rathulf’s face and waved his hand at him.
‘It’s not what you think, boy.’ He turned to the others. ‘My brother’s dislike of Rathulf is well known,’ he said, ‘and unfortunately, Horik is somewhat displeased about my intervention on Rathulf’s behalf, which as Rathulf here knows was particularly humiliating for my brother.’
‘Right,’ Sigvald said cautiously. ‘Horik didn’t mention anything about that.’
‘Well he wouldn’t, would he,’ Eirik smiled back. ‘Mind you, he would have chopped young Rathulf here to bits had I not stopped him.’
Sigvald looked at his foster-son alarmed. The boy’s mortified expression confirmed his fears. ‘Hel’s thighs,’ he muttered. ‘Can this get any worse?’
‘I’m afraid it can,’ Eirik said. ‘My brother has decided to take the law into his own hands. He has put the word out on you, Rathulf.’
‘What?’ Rathulf said, Eirik’s words finally bringing home the full extent of what Ivar had already told him a day earlier. ‘But he can’t. He has no right.’
‘He certainly doesn’t, the slippery toad,’ Sigvald added. ‘I agreed on compensation with him.’
Eirik shrugged. ‘With all due respect, you lot here were about to go and kill off goodness knows how many people for an act that was far less impeachable than Rathulf’s was against my brother. Nevertheless,’ he said, raising his voice to drown out another protest from Bardi, ‘I made a promise to you, and I intend that it be honoured. I shall see to my brother, but you must see to yourself. I am simply warning you to be careful.’ He stopped then and drew his sword. Sigvald tensed, but Eirik ignored him. He placed the impressive blade on the table in front of Rathulf. ‘I Eirik Haraldsson, Jarl of Sognefjorden, say to you before these witnesses, that I offer you my protection. Be it known that from this moment my sword is yours, and that any hand raised against you is a hand raised against me. I pledge that support on my sword Neckbiter, before these witnesses on this day.’
Everyone stared at the jarl, not least Rathulf.
‘You’re supposed to pick it up and acknowledge my oath,’ Eirik prompted.
Rathulf did as he was told, barely aware of the weight of the mighty blade in his hand. ‘I, Rathulf, son of Thorvald of Aurlandsfjorden, accept your pledge of protection.’ His voice wavered a little, betraying his shock.
He handed the sword back to Eirik, who returned it to its scabbard.
‘This lasts as long as you keep your word to me regarding Leif and Horik,’ Eirik warned in a low voice. ‘If you put so much as a toenail out of line, you’re on your own. Keep away from there. Understand?’
Rathulf nodded, but his mind was a blur. He barely understood the ramifications of what had just happened, but he knew one thing for certain: to have been offered Eirik’s protection meant that Horik wanted him dead, and there were all too many unsavoury characters in these parts who would gladly take his life in return for a few pieces of silver.
‘This oath also holds for Alrik,’ Eirik said, ‘who will receive equal protection on the same terms.’
‘I’ll have his head if anything happens to either of them,’ Sigvald warned.
‘Then you’ll have to stand in line,’ Eirik said, turning to leave, ‘because I will get there first.’
‘Just what did Rathulf do to Horik?’ Sigvald asked, casting a dangerous look at his foster-son.
Eirik smiled enigmatically. ‘If you want to know what really happened, ask your foster-son,’ he said, gesturing in the boy’s direction. ‘Why you keep insisting on doubting his word is beyond me. You’ve never told a lie in your life, have y
ou Thorvaldarsson?’
Rathulf flinched, having no idea what he was meant to say anymore. ‘Jarl Eirik, I–’
‘Save it for the stars, your pillow, or whoever you tell your secrets to, Rathulf. You and I both know what happened, and that is enough for now. Just try to keep your nose out of trouble. Speaking of which, you’d best go find your friend and make amends. He’s probably contemplating a painful way to kill you right now. I’d hate to see you two bust up over something as trifling as this.’ He gave Ivar another kick for good measure. He nodded at the two men who had brought Ivar into the hall. They grabbed one leg each and dragged the unconscious Viking from the room.
‘What will become of him?’ one of Bardi’s men asked.
‘I’ll keep him at my garth for the time being,’ Eirik said, ‘just in case we need to remind his allies to behave themselves. Unlikely I think, but you can never be too careful. I’ll be off now. Thank you for your hospitality.’
With that he saluted and stepped out of the hall, leaving everyone staring at the space he had just vacated in shocked silence. Sigvald was about to speak when Eirik’s head appeared around the doorway. ‘And we’re all agreed that there’s no need for any gathering of war-hosts, yes?’
They all nodded. With Ivar in Eirik’s captivity now there was nothing they could do even had they wanted to.
‘Excellent.’ The Jarl paused, then a smile crossed his lips. ‘That reminds me: does he know about, you know, the gift?’ Eirik nodded at Rathulf, a mischievous gleam in his eye.
‘Tariq will survive!’ Sigvald roared, indignant. ‘So keep your money in your purse, jarl. And Bardi, and all you other doubters.’ He cast a warning glare about the room. Eirik winked at Bardi then disappeared before Sigvald could think up a suitable insult.
‘Of all the nerve,’ Sigvald muttered grumpily. ‘Some secret that damn horse has turned out to be.’ He looked over to his foster-son, who was frowning in thought. ‘Rathulf, I think you’d better tell us again what happened, because – and I don’t mean any disrespect – Eirik doesn’t go around offering his sword to just anyone.’