Cappen landed on Torbek, who reached up to shove him asideand then closed one huge fist on his tunic.
"Here's our man!"
"Hi!" yelled Cappen.
Torbek hauled him roughly back to his feet. "Ye cannot row or bail yerfair share," he growled, "nor do ye know the rigging or any skill of asailor--'tis time ye made yerself useful!"
"Aye, aye--let little Cappen go--mayhap he can sing the trolls tosleep--" The laughter was hard and barking, edged with fear, and theyall hemmed him in.
"My lord!" bleated the minstrel. "I am your guest--"
Svearek laughed unpleasantly, half crazily. "Sing them a song," hehowled. "Make a fine roun--whatever ye call it--to the troll-wife'sbeauty. And bring us some fire, little man, bring us a flame less hotthan the love in yer breast for yer lady!"
Teeth grinned through matted beards. Someone hauled on the rope fromwhich the ship's small boat trailed, dragging it close. "Go, ye scut!" Ahorny hand sent Cappen stumbling to the rail.
He cried out once again. An ax lifted above his head. Someone handed himhis own slim sword, and for a wild moment he thought of fighting.Useless--too many of them. He buckled on the sword and spat at the men.The wind tossed it back in his face, and they raved with laughter.
Over the side! The boat rose to meet him, he landed in a heap ondrenched planks and looked up into the shadowy faces of the northmen.There was a sob in his throat as he found the seat and took out theoars.
An awkward pull sent him spinning from the ship, and then the night hadswallowed it and he was alone. Numbly, he bent to the task. Unless hewanted to drown, there was no place to go but the island.
He was too weary and ill to be much afraid, and such fear as he had wasall of the sea. It could rise over him, gulp him down, the gray horseswould gallop over him and the long weeds would wrap him when he rolleddead against some skerry. The soft vales of Caronne and the roses inCroy's gardens seemed like a dream. There was only the roar and boom ofthe northern sea, hiss of sleet and spindrift, crazed scream of wind, hewas alone as man had ever been and he would go down to the sharks alone.
The boat wallowed, but rode the waves better than the longship. He grewdully aware that the storm was pushing him toward the island. It wasbecoming visible, a deeper blackness harsh against the night.
He could not row much in the restless water, he shipped the oars andwaited for the gale to capsize him and fill his mouth with the sea. Andwhen it gurgled in his throat, what would his last thought be? Should hedwell on the lovely image of Ydris in Seilles, she of the long brighthair and the singing voice? But then there had been the tomboy laughterof dark Falkny, he could not neglect her. And there were memories ofElvanna in her castle by the lake, and Sirann of the Hundred Rings, andbeauteous Vardry, and hawk-proud Lona, and-- No, he could not do justiceto any of them in the little time that remained. What a pity it was!
No, wait, that unforgettable night in Nienne, the beauty which hadwhispered in his ear and drawn him close, the hair which had fallen likea silken tent about his cheeks ... ah, that had been the summit of hislife, he would go down into darkness with her name on his lips ... Buthell! What _had_ her name been, now?
Cappen Varra, minstrel of Croy, clung to the bench and sighed.
The great hollow voice of surf lifted about him, waves sheeted acrossthe gunwale and the boat danced in madness. Cappen groaned, huddlinginto the circle of his own arms and shaking with cold. Swiftly, now, theend of all sunlight and laughter, the dark and lonely road which all menmust tread. _O Ilwarra of Syr, Aedra in Tholis, could I but kiss youonce more--_
Stones grated under the keel. It was a shock like a sword going throughhim. Cappen looked unbelievingly up. The boat had drifted to land--hewas alive!
It was like the sun in his breast. Weariness fell from him, and heleaped overside, not feeling the chill of the shallows. With a grunt, heheaved the boat up on the narrow strand and knotted the painter to afang-like jut of reef.
Then he looked about him. The island was small, utterly bare, a savageloom of rock rising out of the sea that growled at its feet and streamedoff its shoulders. He had come into a little cliff-walled bay, somewhatsheltered from the wind. He was here!
For a moment he stood, running through all he had learned about thetrolls which infested these northlands. Hideous and soulless dwellersunderground, they knew not old age; a sword could hew them asunder, butbefore it reached their deep-seated life, their unhuman strength hadplucked a man apart. Then they ate him--
Small wonder the northmen feared them. Cappen threw back his head andlaughed. He had once done a service for a mighty wizard in the south,and his reward hung about his neck, a small silver amulet. The wizardhad told him that no supernatural being could harm anyone who carried apiece of silver.
The northmen said that a troll was powerless against a man who was notafraid; but, of course, only to see one was to feel the heart turn toice. They did not know the value of silver, it seemed--odd that theyshouldn't, but they did not. Because Cappen Varra did, he had no reasonto be afraid; therefore he was doubly safe, and it was but a matter oftalking the troll into giving him some fire. If indeed there was a trollhere, and not some harmless fisherman.
He whistled gaily, wrung some of the water from his cloak and ruddyhair, and started along the beach. In the sleety gloom, he could justsee a hewn-out path winding up one of the cliffs and he set his feet onit.
At the top of the path, the wind ripped his whistling from his lips. Hehunched his back against it and walked faster, swearing as he stumbledon hidden rocks. The ice-sheathed ground was slippery underfoot, and thecold bit like a knife.
Rounding a crag, he saw redness glow in the face of a steep bluff. Acave mouth, a fire within--he hastened his steps, hungering for warmth,until he stood in the entrance.
"_Who comes?_"
It was a hoarse bass cry that rang and boomed between walls of rock;there was ice and horror in it, for a moment Cappen's heart stumbled.Then he remembered the amulet and strode boldly inside.
"Good evening, mother," he said cheerily.
The cave widened out into a stony hugeness that gaped with tunnelsleading further underground. The rough, soot-blackened walls were hungwith plundered silks and cloth-of-gold, gone ragged with age and damp;the floor was strewn with stinking rushes, and gnawed bones were heapedin disorder. Cappen saw the skulls of men among them. In the center ofthe room, a great fire leaped and blazed, throwing billows of heatagainst him; some of its smoke went up a hole in the roof, the reststung his eyes to watering and he sneezed.
The troll-wife crouched on the floor, snarling at him. She was quite themost hideous thing Cappen had ever seen: nearly as tall as he, she wastwice as broad and thick, and the knotted arms hung down past bowedknees till their clawed fingers brushed the ground. Her head wasbeast-like, almost split in half by the tusked mouth, the eyes wells ofdarkness, the nose an ell long; her hairless skin was green and cold,moving on her bones. A tattered shift covered some of her monstrousness,but she was still a nightmare.
"Ho-ho, ho-ho!" Her laughter roared out, hungry and hollow as the surfaround the island. Slowly, she shuffled closer. "So my dinner comeswalking in to greet me, ho, ho, ho! Welcome, sweet flesh, welcome, goodmarrow-filled bones, come in and be warmed."
"Why, thank you, good mother." Cappen shucked his cloak and grinning ather through the smoke. He felt his clothes steaming already. "I love youtoo."
Over her shoulder, he suddenly saw the girl. She was huddled in acorner, wrapped in fear, but the eyes that watched him were as blue asthe skies over Caronne. The ragged dress did not hide the gentle curvesof her body, nor did the tear-streaked grime spoil the lilt of her face."Why, 'tis springtime in here," cried Cappen, "and Primavera herself isstrewing flowers of love."
"What are you talking about, crazy man?" rumbled the troll-wife. Sheturned to the girl. "Heap the fire, Hildigund, and set up the roastingspit. Tonight I feast!"
"Truly I see heaven in female form before me," said Cappen.
T
he troll scratched her misshapen head.
"You must surely be from far away, moonstruck man," she said.
"Aye, from golden Croy am I wandered, drawn over dolorous seas and emptywild lands by the fame of loveliness waiting here; and now that I haveseen you, my life is full." Cappen was looking at the girl as he spoke,but he hoped the troll might take it as aimed her way.
"It will be fuller," grinned the monster. "Stuffed with hot coals whileyet you live." She glanced back at the girl. "What, are you not workingyet, you lazy tub of lard? Set up the spit, I said!"
The girl shuddered back against a heap of wood. "No," she whispered. "Icannot--not ... not for a man."
"Can and will, my girl," said the troll, picking up a bone to throw ather. The girl shrieked a little.
"No, no, sweet mother. I would
The Valor of Cappen Varra Page 2
