Sviggar’s nose wrinkled with irritation. The earl’s argument clearly had weight. ‘So you truly believe this threat to be serious, Bodvar?’
‘I do.’
‘And what measures – as you call them – do you counsel?’
‘At least raise the southern levies. Send word to the Earl of Sodermanland and Earl Huldir at Nairka. Even without a full muster, you must alert the southern lands. And seal the border. None shall pass into or out of the kingdom. Not until we know more.’
‘Even that much will spread panic.’
‘Not if you speak to the people yourself. Tell them war is not your aim. Panic will spread much faster if you do nothing while rumours ripen and grow. This way your folk will see you act and feel secure, even if – should the threat prove real – they may yet suffer war.’
The king rubbed at his temple. ‘Very well. Send word to the southern lords.’
‘I’ll see it done.’
‘And announce a decree sealing the borders. No one is to cross into Gotarland. I want to give them no provocations.’ Sviggar seemed satisfied, though his face looked grim. ‘Although, in truth, we still know precious little.’
‘We know he’s raising spears at Leithra,’ Sigurd countered. ‘And at Dannerborg.’
‘But how many? Someone tell me that?’
‘Find out for yourself.’ It was the first contribution Erlan had made to the meeting.
Sviggar stared at him. ‘Myself? What do you mean?’
‘Send a man to this Ringast’s hall at Dannerborg. A pair of eyes and ears you trust. You’ll soon know the truth of it.’
‘I suppose you’re offering yourself for this service?’ Sigurd sneered.
‘Maybe it is better an outlander goes. A Sveär would only arouse suspicion.’
‘A Gotar would be better still,’ said Bodvar, his rugged face creasing into a smile.
‘What Gotar?’ demanded Sviggar.
‘Why, one who wouldn’t draw a second glance!’ Bodvar exclaimed.
Erlan knew of only one Gotar living among the Uppland halls, and suddenly he saw what Bodvar was driving at. ‘No. Not a chance.’
‘But he’s perfect,’ Bodvar grinned.
‘Who’s perfect?’ croaked the king impatiently. ‘Damn it – what are you on about?’
‘That one’s servant boy!’ Bodvar jabbed a finger at Erlan.
‘This is folly, my lord,’ protested Erlan. ‘Kai is hardly more than a boy.’
‘Nonsense! He’s not much younger than you.’
‘Maybe. But I’ve been trained for combat. Hel, Kai has never even learned how to hold a shield. Not properly, anyhow.’
‘Bah! If he needs use of his shield, he’s already failed.’
‘But you’ve seen him. He’s so... scrawny.’
‘All the better! The whole point is no one should notice him.’
Sviggar began to chuckle, too. ‘Erlan, I sympathize with you. Truly, I do. But we must all fill the boots of manhood one day. Besides, I like the lad! He’s got guts and his wits are sharp. I’ve seen that for myself.’
Aye, too bloody sharp for his own good most of the time, thought Erlan. ‘Lord, I grant you, Kai is resourceful in his way, but he’s not... How can I put it? He’s not reliable. You’d be putting the fate of the kingdom in his hands. It’s not exactly the safest place for it.’ That was putting it mildly.
Sviggar waved away Erlan’s excuses. ‘My mind’s made up. Just tell me this – would he agree to it?’
Erlan considered the question, his heart sinking. The fact was the mad little bastard would probably like nothing better. Erlan sighed. ‘I guess he would.’
‘Then see that he does. The sooner he leaves the better. Certainty, Erlan, certainty! Then we can act. The boy shall be my eyes!’ The old king’s face was absolutely glowing with the idea.
‘Lord, if this is your wish then I have two requests.’
‘Go on.’
‘Give me two days to hone his training.’
‘Two days!’ scoffed Sigurd. ‘What can you teach him in two days?’
‘I guess I’ll find out.’ If the boy would listen for a change, perhaps enough.
‘Granted,’ Sviggar said impatiently. ‘And the second?’
‘That if you want me to remain here with you, at least send someone with him who knows how to fight.’
‘It may be wise,’ Bodvar conceded. ‘It’d be a shame if the boy succeeds, gets clear of Dannerborg, and then falls prey to brigands on the road.’
Sviggar was reluctant at first but eventually he agreed, and after more discussion, they settled on Einar Fat-Belly as Kai’s protector, whom Bodvar happened to know was half-Gotar by blood.
Gods, the fat man will be delighted, Erlan thought to himself. But secretly he was pleased. He trusted Einar more than most of Sviggar’s hearthmen.
That brought the audience to an end. Sviggar resumed his archery while Erlan set off for the small halls to find Kai and tell him the news. He was surprised when Sigurd fell in beside him.
‘None of this would be necessary if you had let Vargalf finish his work.’
Erlan halted and turned to him. ‘You call that work?’ he snarled. ‘Your man is a fucking animal.’
‘Well, we’re all of us animals,’ the prince smiled. ‘The only question is which of us will survive.’
CHAPTER NINE
Erlan was right, of course.
Kai leaped at the idea. ‘There you go! That’ll learn you to leave me out of your patrol. I told you the gods love me.’
‘You do realize what this involves?’
‘Course! Bit of sneaking around. Keep the old flappers open. No problem. What’s a few Gotars anyhow, after what we faced last winter?’ He took a couple of heroic cuts at the air. ‘Ha! Now I’ll show you all the stuff Kai Wolf-Hand is made of! Let’s see what Bara has to say then, eh?’
‘Hey.’ Erlan caught his arm. ‘This is about more than impressing some wench. This could mean war. And your neck with it.’
‘I know.’ Kai blinked up at him with guileless blue eyes.
Erlan shook his head. ‘You’re crazy, you know that?’
The next morning, he kicked Kai out of bed early and dragged him off to the training circle that was marked out a stone’s throw east of the Brewers Hall. Both of them were laden down with gear – some steel, some wooden for practice.
‘This is going to be a long day,’ Erlan warned. And so it was. He’d seen Kai fight – seen him do some remarkable things, in fact – but he wasn’t taking any chances. He stripped it all back to the bone. Wooden sword – light shield – mouth shut and listen.
They sparred all morning, sweating till their tunics were soaked through. After each bout Kai’s question was always the same: when could they use the real steel, as he called it. ‘When I say so,’ was always Erlan’s reply.
By early afternoon he’d given Kai a proper limewood shield, bound with leather and sealed with an iron boss. At first this slowed Kai down, but as the sun went on its course Erlan fancied he saw some improvement. By the time their shadows were lengthening in the dust, he finally let Kai have his way and moved them on to metal blades, albeit ones with blunt edges. Fatigue was beginning to dint even Kai’s boundless enthusiasm and he grew more and more frustrated with Erlan’s badgering.
‘Looks bloody exhausting,’ said a languid drawl that turned their heads, sparing Kai from another of Erlan’s long explanations of what he’d been doing wrong. Einar Fat-Belly was draped over the rough-plank fencing that marked out the training circle. Seemed he’d swiped a drinking cup from the bucket of beer that had been their refreshment all day. He took a swig and immediately spat it out.
‘Urgh! Fenrir’s fangs! What is this? Goat’s piss?’
‘It’s watered down,’ explained Erlan.
‘Water! Gods, do you want to poison me?’
‘Well, we can’t have him fighting drunk, can we?’
‘Best way for it, if you ask me.’
>
‘I take it you’ve heard the news.’
‘Oh, aye.’ Einar scratched noisily under a braid.
‘And?’
‘And I’m over the fucking moon. Can’t you tell?’
Erlan chuckled. ‘Well, time’s coming when we’ll all have to make sacrifices.’
‘Aye. Some of us sooner than you other bastards.’
‘Fancy a turn?’ Erlan proffered the hilt of his training sword.
‘You must be joking. It’s making me break sweat just watching you.’
Erlan shrugged and turned back to Kai while Einar peered dubiously into his ale-cup and hazarded another sip.
‘Where was I?’
Kai rolled his eyes. ‘You were saying in a fight between two men, one of ’em loses it but the other one doesn’t win it. Which doesn’t make a lick of sense, but there you go.’
‘No, I said a man loses a fight more often than his opponent wins it.’
‘And what’s that supposed to mean?’
‘It means people make mistakes.’
‘Of course they do. So what?’
‘So make damn sure it’s not you who’s making them.’
‘Phuh! Surely you’ve learned by now, master? I don’t make mistakes.’
‘Really?’ Erlan beckoned to him. ‘Again. Your strike.’
Kai squared off and began to lift his sword, but his hand had hardly moved before Erlan stepped in, knocked the blade left and cut down till his sword edge touched Kai’s neck. ‘Dead. Sword too wide. Again.’
Kai snorted, took his guard and tried again. This time he jabbed from below, but Erlan’s shield met the point, there was a streak from the right and a clang as his sword clipped Kai’s half-helm. ‘Dead. Shield too low. Again.’
Kai huffed, rolled his shoulders and swore.
‘Don’t lose your temper. Just think.’
This time Kai cut across at Erlan’s sword arm, but before the blade was halfway down, Erlan hefted his shield, crouched low and in swept his edge to knock out Kai’s knee. The lad was on his arse in a cloud of dust before he knew what had happened, with Erlan’s point under his chin. ‘Dead! Shield too high this time. Back on your feet. Let’s go.’
So the refrain went on. ‘Dead. Too slow turning. Get your bloody shield round. Again!’
‘Dead.’ This time Erlan punched Kai’s shield flat with his own shield-rim, exposing Kai’s head and neck. ‘I’ve told you before. Hold onto the thing tight as a rivet. Your shield is a weapon, too.’ The final time Erlan allowed Kai to bat at his shield a couple of times, while he shuffled left with his back to the falling sun. Suddenly he dropped left, spilling sunlight into Kai’s eyes. The boy yelped, Erlan stepped wide, backhanded a cut from above and the blunted edge stopped an inch short of the back of Kai’s neck. ‘Dead,’ he said, with grim finality.
‘That was cheap.’
‘No move is too cheap when you’re up against someone who knows what he’s doing.’
‘You know something, Erlan,’ mused Einar from his fence, a finger idly foraging in his ear. ‘You move pretty fast... considering that leg of yours.’
Erlan hadn’t thought about his ankle once the whole day. The pain was just there, like the ground or the sword in his hand. He shrugged. ‘My father used to tell me, if you can’t run, you have to learn to stand and fight. So I did.’
Einar raised his cup in mock toast. ‘Well, well. So the man does at least have a father.’
Erlan frowned, reminded of his oath. He had sworn his past would remain sealed up in a barrow-grave of silence. Yet here it was, seeping back into his present like sea-water into the bilges of a leaky hull. He turned back to Kai with a scowl. ‘Let’s go again.’
But Kai refused his guard. ‘I’ve had it with these stupid toys.’ He flung down his training sword. ‘When do I get my hands on that proper gear, eh?’ He jabbed a finger at the assorted weapons propped against the fence. There was a long-spear, a double-handed axe, a war-hammer, a couple of hand-axes and a shorter throwing spear.
‘Not yet.’
‘Come on, master. Don’t be such an old fart. I’ll soon have to stand in the shieldwall tooled up like everyone else.’
‘You’ve got plenty to worry about before that happens. Besides, that stuff’s too big for you.’
‘Balls to that! Let me try.’ His eyes twinkled with desperation. ‘Please!’
‘Humour the lad,’ Einar said. ‘Gods, I’d like to see it for myself.’
‘Fine,’ sighed Erlan, relenting. ‘But you’ll be needing this, too.’ He threw down his gear and pulled off his leather byrnie.
It took a while to load up Kai and when he was done Erlan stood back to admire his handiwork. Kai stood there, grinning like a happy pig, byrnie gaping at his sides, a seax sheath hanging to his knees, the hilt of Erlan’s ring-sword prodding at his nipples. On his left he had a shield and gripped behind it a hand-axe. Last of all, in his right hand, he clutched a long-spear that towered over him like a banner.
‘One final touch.’ Erlan swapped Kai’s wood and leather half-helm for his own metal helmet. It dropped onto Kai’s unruly mop of hair, squashing his fringe over his eyes.
Kai shook his head till he could see out again. ‘How do I look?’
‘Ridiculous,’ said Einar.
‘Shut your hole, fat man! No one asked you.’ Kai looked hopefully at Erlan. ‘Well, master?’
Erlan frowned doubtfully. ‘It doesn’t matter how you look. What matters is what you can do.’ He crossed to the other side of the circle. ‘All right – run at me.’
‘What?’
‘You heard – run at me!’
Kai shrugged, took a mark, dropped his spear-point and ran, buckles jangling, seax bouncing, helmet rattling on his head. Before he’d got halfway the hand-axe slipped from his grasp and thudded to the ground. Kai swore, stopped to pick it up, got a hold on it and set off again, only for his spear to drop and skewer the dirt. He tripped, flipped and ended up in a cloud of dust and steel and curses on his back.
Einar fairly bellowed with laughter, his belly shaking like rotten rafters in a storm. Kai sat in the dirt, scowling.
‘I don’t know why you’re laughing, fat man,’ said Erlan. ‘He’s all you’ve got once you cross the Kolmark.’ That shut Einar up pretty quick.
Erlan offered Kai a hand but he knocked it away. ‘I can manage,’ he growled, peeling himself off the ground.
‘Tell you what, runt,’ said Einar, climbing through the fence, ‘try this one. More your size.’ He plucked the throwing spear off the ground and tossed it to Kai. The lad caught it, his face still boiling with fury.
‘A little spear for a little man.’
Even Erlan laughed at that.
‘Bollocks to the lot of you!’ Kai flicked the javelin over his wrist and hurled it hard as he could. The thing flew straight as a comet, slamming into one of the fence posts so that the whole training circle shuddered. The other two stopped laughing.
‘By the hanged, boy,’ Einar gasped. ‘That one shook the World Tree to its bloody roots!’
‘Where did you learn to throw like that?’ demanded Erlan, no less amazed.
‘I don’t know,’ Kai shrugged. ‘Back home, I suppose. I didn’t have one of those things, of course, but I used to kill rabbits with stones from the lakeshore. You get pretty good when no one gives you bugger all else to eat.’
Einar had gone to inspect the javelin. ‘Not bad, at all... Could’ve gone in a bit further, mind.’
‘What are you talking about? It’s sticking straight out!’
‘Let’s see you do it again,’ said Erlan.
Einar yanked it free and drew out his knife. ‘Aye. Only this time, see if you can hit this.’ He marked a cross in the wood a little higher up the same post.
‘Easy,’ said Kai. ‘Toss it here.’
This time he put down his shield and took careful aim while the other two watched him. He planted his foot, drew back his arm and flung it.
&nbs
p; ‘Bang on the nose!’ Einar cried in delight. ‘The lad’s a natural!’
‘Well done, little brother,’ Erlan exclaimed, and gave him an affectionate thump on the back.
‘That’s a neat trick,’ said a woman’s voice.
They all turned to see a girl with flaming red hair and flouncing curves approach the fence. Bara, the queen’s handmaiden, and the object of Kai’s salivations for months now, despite the fact that she was probably the most conceited woman in all of Sveäland. If you didn’t count her mistress.
Kai gave a nonchalant glance at the javelin. ‘Oh, that? Just one of my many talents. I could show you a few others if you like.’
‘I’m good, thanks.’ Bara smiled. ‘Still, that was impressive.’ Kai beamed. ‘Just a shame about the rest of you,’ she added.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well – look at you. You couldn’t fill a pail of milk, let alone that thing.’ She pointed a lithe finger at Kai’s oversized byrnie. Erlan watched the bounce leak out of his friend like piss from an old man’s bladder.
Kai threw Erlan’s helmet moodily at the fence. Bara giggled. ‘Temper, temper.’
‘What are you doing here?’ said Erlan.
‘Jo said I’d find you here. My mistress wants to see you.’
‘Me? What for?’
‘How should I know?’
‘She must have given you some reason.’
‘I don’t know. Something about some dispute or other. Why don’t you go see for yourself?’ she pouted. It had to be said, no one pouted quite like Bara. But Erlan wasn’t much the wiser. Now and then, Sviggar had given him authority to settle some of the petty disputes that arose around the halls, but he didn’t see what that had to do with Queen Saldas.
‘Can’t it wait till morning?’
‘What do you think?’ Bara arched an artfully plucked eyebrow.
‘Fine.’ He dusted off his hands. ‘I guess we’re done here. Kai, clear up this lot and I’ll see you back home for supper.’
A Sacred Storm Page 7