TRONDHEIM SAGEN: Earth Shattering

by Andreas Hennen

"Then you had better learn quickly! This time everything went well, but at the next ambush we don't know what fate awaits us," the rough and insensitive warrior said to the trembling maiden.

  "Who is talking about new ambushes? I don't think you are a prophet. Be so kind as to avoid mere conjecture," the elderly Lady protested vigorously. Elisabet addressing the King said: "My Lords, your knights, however skilled they may be in the field, should be educated in good manners!"

  But the Dragon did not like this comment, rudely silencing the Lady he said:

  "Silence, woman! I have a sword for you too, always hoping that you know how to use it!" and he dropped a second sword into the mud at the feet of the Lady.

  The third Nordic rune delivered what they had found on the bandits to King Holaf saying:

  "My Lord, here is a paper with the orders given to these wastrels," and he gave the important document to Holaf, who did not hesitate for a moment and unwrapped the small roll of parchment bearing an anonymous seal in red wax.

  The message was simple and complete and read: "My faithful men, a caravan made up of the three Kings and their escorts travel south to Vyborg. Kill them all, and we will pay you their weight in gold."

  "No signature or trace of who gave these cursed orders!" exclaimed disconsolate Holaf.

  "My brother, you were not really hoping to find the proof of Dicius’s conspiracies so simply and stupidly?" High asked his brother by the sword sarcastically.

  "In all honesty, a small part of me really hoped so. Nothing would make me happier than throw that repulsive being, who has no sense of honour, from the High Tower with my own hands," he interrupted himself and taking a long wide leaf from the banks of the ditch, cleaned the blood and the remnants of the battle from his sword and then added, "You think I'm deceiving myself, right?"

  "No, of course not, my brother, I do believe that the slimy being who is the first Imperial Counsellor had not arrived to such a high position only through bribes. He has always been plotting in the shadows, but he never leaves visible traces for the eyes of those who are watching him," God-Slayer answered quickly.

  "Of course, so far Dicius hasn't made any mistakes. Most likely he won't start now just to please me and let me throw him from the High Tower," Holaf pointed out, sheathing his long sword.

  The knight of the first rune collected the crossbow arrows from the corpses, which had been shot by the knights of the east, and on returning them to one of the knights said:

  "Thank you, knight, you aim truly."

  "Do you refer to the one with curly hair, the one I hit while he was attacking you from behind? You would have done the same!" The warrior replied with his arm wrapped in bandages, feeling flattered for the thanks received from the titanic warriors of the north.

  "Do you know how to use your bow as well as your crossbow?" asked the War Master wearing the Head of a Wolf.

  "Sure, a good Black Portal knight excels with bows as well as crossbows!" The wounded young man answered.

  "Then I'll find you one, left by those dogs, because there are so many arrows on the ground that you could shoot for a whole afternoon," said the wolf as he moved away in the direction of the corpses.

  "What are you doing, number two?" asked High intrigued in seeing knight wearing the Head of a Leopard move one of the five knights in Varius’s uniform to the edge of the road.

  "I am preparing a warning, my Sovereign!" The second northern rune replied shortly. He picked up a long halberd from the ground. He stuck it right into the base of the cadaver’s ribs, next to his spine, making sure to use the ribs to hold the body on the blade of the weapon.

  "What are you doing! We don't deface the bodies of our dead enemies!" exclaimed the

  God-Slayer was quite angry over the barbarity shown by the Head of Leopard.

  It was Holaf himself who calmed his brother's annoyance, explaining their traditions to him:

  "His macabre work is not pleasant for me either, but it is a custom of the Masters of War. It is their ritual to thank the warrior Gods for having supported them in battle."

  "How brutal you are, you pagans of the north, my brother!" exclaimed the God-Slayer.

  Holaf was slightly irritated.

  "I am surprised at what my ears must hear, spoken by those who, in order to ingratiate themselves with their nobles, decided to wipe out an entire tribe, including the living God, extinguishing the entire species!" The God-Slayer replied.

  "You, my brother, are right! I apologize, because it is not my right doubt to your choices," High bowed slightly and quickly, and finally added: "I too have performed despicable acts in war. Unfortunately it is the price asked for victory. Inhuman acts are part of this."

  Holaf added nothing more to what the God-Slayer said. Perhaps, due to the depth of the reflection revealed, the discussion had become too philosophical for his simple warrior mentality. Or perhaps there was another, simpler reason; the Long Sword did not add anything because the warriors of Trondheim were born in the midst of all that horror and were perfectly at ease with it.

  The menacing sign for travellers was only concluded when the destruction reached unspeakable levels. Raised from the ground, stuck in the mud like a macabre flag, the body was drawn and quartered and left there with the entrails falling out and dangling. In the flesh of the chest the phrase 'Traitor of Varius' was carved with a blade.

  "At least he will discourage any soldiers of the same origin from daring to fight against us," commented the second Master of the War, who was completely satisfied as he approached the Lord of the East. The God-Slayer said nothing to this provocation. But the macabre solution was completely acceptable to him if it dissuaded even a single possible pursuer.

  The storm kindly conceded a truce, limiting the possibility of drowning for the travellers. The march resumed only when the fourth War Master slipped a tunic with Varius’s colours, removed from a corpse, into a saddlebag on his horse.

  "What do you intend to do with that?" the beautiful princess asked the warrior. The fourth rune with a completely unprecedented display of good manners removed the Bear's helmet, revealing his face and replied:

  "My sweet Princess, I decided to bring such a relic with me, in case it might serve as serious evidence of the betrayal of Varius for the King of Vyborg.

  "I understand, knight. You among all your comrades, have the most beautiful manners. Where did you learn them?" Tyra answered relieved. She expected to receive a brusque reply to her instinctive question.

  "Milady, in Trondheim, they teach us not only the art of combat, but also correct manners. Sadly, they often get lost in battle. We lose our good manners instead a losing our lives," joked the number four gently, managing to raise a smile on the lips of the still shaken young girl. "Thank you, my princess!" exclaimed the polite warrior, observing her delightful face.

  "What did I do to deserve your thanks?" she asked curiously and embarrassed, touching her face instinctively in search of oddities.

  "My Princess, I thank you for giving me such a beautiful smile in such a gloomy moment," replied the War Master. From the height of colossal his stature he searched and untied a small but over-full bag. Rubbing it between his hands he gave it to the princess saying:

  "I, too, will now make you a gift. Please pardon the inappropriate condition of the wrapping, but it contains money." The warrior stood still for a few moments with his arm outstretched waiting for Tyra to take the gift, but that didn't happen.

  "Let me explain, perhaps you have misunderstood!" exclaimed number four, "at the next village there will certainly be an inn, but King Holaf will not stop so as not to waste time. If you want to stop this forced march, you will need my gift. Without coin you do not even pass through the Kingdom of Vyborg let alone sleep, wash or eat." After hearing the explanation, the young Lady stretched out her hand, smiling and took out the rich little bag, not caring that it was soaked in blood.

  "Thank you, my good knight. All my possessions were taken by that cursed Prince Horos,
and I'd love a hot bath," the princess answered happily, as she closed her beautiful blue eyes with joy at the idea of being able to wash herself.

  The elderly Lady helped Tyra back on her horse and smiled tenderly at the warrior of the Bear's helmet. The soldier gave a slight nod with his head and turned his attention to Holaf, who was absorbed in a discussion with High about what to do.

  "My King, I give you the gold of the enemy we have killed. Make good use of it!" exclaimed the War Master of the fourth rune.

  "Thank you, warrior, I hope there are no more surprises along the way to Vyborg," Holaf commented as he watched the reluctant warrior leave. This reluctance caused suspicion in the Lord of Trondheim so he asked a sincere question: "What disturbs you, fourth warrior?"

  The Bear's Head answered:

  "My King impulsively, without asking you for advice or permission, I gave a bag of coins to the young princess. If my gesture were to disturb you, I will take it back immediately."

  "The only thing that could bother me now would be to have my ears hammered by the princess' whining over the hardships she has encountered. But apparently there are none, so thank you, my soldier, great idea!" Holaf, replied smilingly. He was actually just joking, with remarkable good humour for the blonde of South Winter.

  "Any other lady, princess or queen would already have given herself over to wild fury, including my beloved wife," High commented, looking at smiling Holaf before adding: "Every woman I know except for your wife Anastasia. She throws herself into the battle voluntarily!"

  Holaf, laughing, mounted on horseback and shouted:

  "On our way, my fellow rough riders!"

  Chapter 10

  Unusual meetings

  Several more hours of marching followed. The rain, which had moved away after having done its duty in soaking everyone to the bone, left the travellers buffeted by a cold, merciless wind. Howling and rattling the leaves of the mulberry trees, which lined the road, the wind followed the cold group. Their teeth chattering, the princess and her duenna were hit the hardest by the penetrating cold. Certainly no one else was happy either, not even the rough men of the north wrapped in their fur cloaks. Even the sky turned hostile by dusk. The light was so poor that the continuation of the journey was difficult, if not unthinkable.

  The belief that they could continue to travel during the night seemed even more absurd, especially taking into consideration the plotting dark Lords, who would like to see their heads stuck on pikes.

  It wasn't a hard decision or even a controversial one to take. The question passed from one friend to another with one answer, perhaps the only sensible one that could be given. The cold, the darkness and the possibility of new ambushes, all of which increased disproportionately at night, were the cause of the Kings’ decision. To the Sovereigns, the idea of lingering was absolutely repellent, but they were even less attracted to the idea that crowned heads could be troubled by doubts.

  "Will we stop at the lights of that village on the horizon?" the tired Lord of the East asked Holaf, who answered perfect agreement:

  "Yes!" After that he ordered his warriors: "Men, let's head towards those lights, I hope it's a friendly village!"

  "Yes, my Lord, if you are afraid I will go ahead and reconnoitre!" The Head of the Wolf offered, fearing like all the others, the possibility of an ambush.

  "No, Master, we are stronger if we stay united. In any case I would not leave you to face an attack alone," Holaf answered seriously as he tried to understand which way the road turned in the darkness.

  What they had seen in the distance was not exactly a village, but it had a roof, strong walls, presumably food and a stove or a fireplace. The group found itself in front of the least likely building to receive a princess and two Kings.

  "What small village is this?" Tyra asked, seeing the lights shining from a palisade that was no larger than a court garden.

  The structure was protected by a solid wall of large tree trunks with sharp points. The road was completely transformed into a muddy stream, so was difficult for the tired knights to walk and even harder for the poor horses. When they reached the imposing door, nothing was heard, neither laughter nor any sound. The place seemed uninhabited. There was a faint light shining from a small watchtower at the top of the palisade. So the initial sensation of abandonment indicated by the rest of the structure was wrong. The Dragon knocked lightly with his war hammer, but no one answered him. He struck the door more forcefully, but again silence was the only response.

  "They are not going to open to us!" one of the knights of the East exclaimed.

  "We can't blame them, given the situation. They won't let strangers and unknown travellers in," replied one of his fellow countrymen shaking his head.

  "It is not possible! No one could leave these ladies in the cold and ice, shivering both from the freezing weather and for fear of brigands!" exclaimed the Lord of the East, knocking vigorously. But not even the royal knocking received an answer. Disappointed the God-Slayer commented, "How odd, maybe it's the wrong entrance?"

  The first Master of the War kindly answered him:

  "Your Majesty, do you want me to try climbing the wall? There will be only two men, not more. I can cope easily."

  "Too much has been asked of your strength already, my good knight; moreover, I would not like you to be met at the top by clever crossbowmen," answered God-Slayer polite as usual. Observing the strange structure more closely, there were far from military shapes like small houses built into the fence.

  "Please open for us! We know that you are listening, we have no evil intent!" the young princess shouted as loudly as she could. "We're not robbers or murderers, but just tired travellers looking for a bathroom and a bed!"

  As the long shadows of the evening began to fade, and the cloudy grey sky became a single slab of unlimited darkness, a man wearing a war helmet rose from the top of the palisade. A lantern was lowered by rope to just above the wet heads of travellers.

  "Take off your helmets, knights, I would like to look you in the face!" exclaimed the trembling voice of the man. It was clear that he was an old man, no longer of military age, who had the ungrateful task of leaning out and being the target for darts and arrows.

  "We're not cutthroats, open the doors!" shouted the Dragon, removing his helmet and revealing his face.

  But the old man answered unkind, as only the old can be:

  "I’ll decide, what you are, but certainly you do not look reassuring with that cloak full of carrion!"

  "Our cloaks have same effect on anyone with evil intentions as they have had on you. Our skull covered cloaks keep enemies away," explained the Bear's Head kindly, as he looked at the armiger next to the watchtower, moving closer to see better.

  But the old man now looked at something else and said:

  "You, I recognize you, Sire High, Lord of the East!" The old man withdrew the lantern quickly and crashed it into the wooden palisade before saying, "Wait a moment, I'll come right away!"

  There was a rapid succession of deep thuds and then the typical sound of someone running through puddles, and then the squeaking of old and ill-kept hinges. Holaf looked at the beautiful Tyra and smiled, then exchanged glances with High and exclaimed:

  "Well, it's nice to be recognized, even if the only result you get is to have the guard run away!"

  The God-Slayer, in an attempt to cheer the princess up, turned to her:

  "Am I so ugly that I make everyone run away, Your Grace?"

  The princess, tired and still disturbed by recent events, did not understand he was joking and answered:

  "No, my Sire, you would be a dream for any Lady."

  "It seems, my poor Royal subject, that during the ambush you must have hit your head harder than I thought!" Holaf was ready to joke, making the whole group laugh.

  At that moment the latch on the door screeched loudly. Then, very slowly, one of the two doors moved. An old steel plated war helmet emerged, soggy and damp, just like the man wearing
it.

  "I beg you, Your Majesty, come to safety behind our defences," the old man led the group to the stables, a strange U-shaped structure, opening onto a large area. Right in the centre there was a rough carved wooden statue. With the help of a very vivid imagination it represented a couple of lovers.

  The structure had a central two-story building. There were two lower wings. On the right the stable and the straw deposit were set up, while on the left you could see a series of dilapidated, small wooden houses, totally without decoration.

  A prosperous-looking woman came out of the central building, dressed in a large, stately dress. She had a prominent bodice, bright red lips and plenty of jewellery, all clearly on display. Her ostentatiously noble figure was betrayed by the quality of the fabric of her dress, which was worn and discoloured. Her physical appearance was accompanied by such rough rural manners that not even King Holaf appreciated them. He was usually not at all sensitive to such minor things.

  "What is a King doing in my house?" the woman asked unpleasantly.

  "Madam, if we are disturbing you, we can return to the road immediately," replied High in a firm and severe tone of voice.

  "No, I didn't mean to say that you annoy me, only in this place you don’t often see too many Kings!" the woman unpleasantly answered, pointing the way to the house.

  "But what kind of village is this?" asked Tyra curious as usual. Her reply was an annoyed look from the woman, who did not even deign to speak to Tyra.

  Seen from the inside, the structures were certainly not a village. Not even the guards were anything like the militia normally sent as a garrison to settlements. A militia was usually few in number and poorly equipped. But here, on the wooden gallery, many armigers could be counted, all well equipped with chain mail and beautifully colourful tunics. The banner above the door was brought to life by a strong wind. It had a green background, on which a huge burgundy heart fluttered invitingly. It made a beautiful display, arousing curiosity in Holaf:

  "What kind of business takes place in these buildings?"