Haki's faded green cloak spun as he turned. They left Sigvald's fort and embarked on their trek inland. They formed a rough column behind Haki, with Yngvar, Bjorn, and Alasdair at the head. The rest of the men fell into small clumps according to their friendships and pace.
After a few quiet hours, where Yngvar took a careful study of the land and noted landmarks as best he could, Bjorn finally started sounding like his old self.
"Walks like a woman, too. Why do that? A bit strange, don't ya think?"
"That is not how a woman walks," Alasdair said. "Though he is light of foot."
"Light of foot? Well, I've got my opinions and you've got yours. So what did Jarl Long-Nose tell you this morning?"
"Don't get used to calling him that, Bjorn, or you'll get us in trouble. There's a settlement of Danes that've not recognized Gorm the Old or any of his bondsmen. They're over some rough hills in a place where it's hard to bring a large force. Sigvald has to send men every year to collect the taxes owed, and there's always some sort of fight."
"Now that's be best news I've heard since we landed." Bjorn had his ax across his shoulder and now he mocked a blow against an imaginary enemy.
"No, it's not good news." Yngvar glanced at Haki, but he strode far ahead of the column. Still, he felt wary of what their guide might overhear. "You know what we're here for. Fighting these people won't get us any closer to Gorm."
"Lord," Alasdair said. "Maybe it would. I mean, if these people oppose the king and we bring them in line, then wouldn't Gorm praise us?"
Yngvar rubbed the back of his neck. "There's truth in that, but how can we do it if Sigvald cannot? And he must command hundreds of men."
"Perhaps he has not tried, lord."
They continued to walk, and Yngvar thought of Alasdair's suggestion. The woods and hills ahead had turned from vague shapes into sharper relief. Haki had promised a rest before entering the forest. So as expected he turned and held up a hand.
"We will travel north a short while. There's a stream to refresh yourself and cool your feet. I want to be in the high hills by nightfall."
Once they had trekked the short distance to the stream, Yngvar decided to see what information he could gain from Haki. He knelt over the stream, drinking the water and splashing it onto his face. Yngvar knelt over the water at what he thought was a conspicuous closeness.
The cool stream water was bracing and refreshing as he cupped it to his mouth. He sat back and looked to Haki, who was now soaking his feet in the water.
"Since you know the way to this place, you must have been on other attempts to get the tribute from these people. What can we expect?"
Haki leaned on his hands and studied his feet. Yngvar decided he would do the same. His hot feet were immediately quenched in the cold water. The mud between his toes was silky. He waited for Haki's answer, but he gave none.
"I would expect you'll share any hardship we experience," Yngvar said at last. "So it is in your interest to tell me what you know."
Haki sighed and tilted his head to one side as if thinking. "You will be dealing with Lopt Stone-Eye. You'll know why he's called that as soon as you see him. He's a bastard if ever there was. His people scatter everywhere and he fights whoever tries to enter his hall. Usually he kills a man in the fight."
"Well, that makes him an outlaw. Unless you Danes are different, in every other place killing the jarl's man collecting a lawful tribute would be a crime. Why does Sigvald tolerate him?"
Shrugging, Haki pulled his feet from the stream, then stood. "As for danger to me, I'm just guiding you to the way in. After that, it's all you. I'll wait until the following day for your return. If you don't arrive by then, I hope you've been studying the way back. I'll not be waiting for you."
So light-footed Haki trotted off to gather up everyone for the second leg of their journey. They made the high hills by nightfall, but not after an ordeal through the forest. While thin trails existed, someone had placed barricades and dug trenches in the path. Haki had laughed and cursed Lopt Stone-Eye for a bastard. No one was hurt by any obstruction, but their pace had bogged down.
The next day Haki led them down into a ravine. "Follow the stream in. You will come to his settlement eventually. He'll find you first, more than likely. I'll wait for you here until the day after tomorrow. If I don't die from boredom before then."
The remaining journey was slow and careful. The ravine was littered with fallen trees and boulders. Some appeared to have been traps sprung a long time ago. Moss clung to the brown stone walls and coated the floor. The stream became little more than a trickle at points.
When they found the white bones of men either littering the ravine floor or purposefully set on rocks, Yngvar knew he was close. Men feared the skulls that watched them pass. Yngvar would not admit his skin prickled under their empty gazes, and tried to make light talk as they cleared the area.
Outside of the ravine, the stream regained strength and they followed it into the woods once more.
"You've gone far enough." The voice echoed around the moss-covered forest. The accent was keenly Danish, and Yngvar did not understand the command immediately.
"Who's there? Lopt Stone-Eye?"
The forest was empty and Yngvar's men were spread among the trees that had overgrown the loose path they followed. He felt a sudden itch at his exposed back, expecting an arrow.
"Ah, one of Sigvald's boys? What's he want now?"
"Show yourself and we will talk," Yngvar said. He slipped his shield from his back to his arm, as did all the others. They began to back into each other, forming a protective circle. The voice sounded as if it came from every direction and it was full of laughter.
"We're poor people here. Why not leave us alone?"
"I can't do that," Yngvar said. He laid his hand on his sword hilt and raised his shield. Bjorn stood beside him, grumbling to himself. Alasdair was at the center of the circle. All the other men were ready to draw, though fighting among trees with long swords was foolish.
"Is this all of you?" the voice asked. "No more men filing through the ravine?"
"You know our number. You're only now letting us know you've been watching. Come. Let's settle this like reasonable men."
The shapes emerged from what seemed only air. Yngvar and the others startled, each man gasping at the proximity of their watchers. They wore all browns, greens, and grays. They had covered themselves in forest debris and stuck branches in their hair so they seemed no more than underbrush. Their skin was daubed with mud.
"Ten to ten," said one man. He was short but strong, and he had twigs tied into a bushy brown beard. His pale eyes seemed to glow against the dark mud of his face. "That's a fair fight. Do you intend to fight?"
"Not without cause. I am Einar Magnusson. I am new to Sigvald's service and so he sent me to collect his money."
The twig-bearded man leaned back with a gusty laugh. The others' smiles were brilliant against their blackened faces. "So he sends the new men into danger. Did he tell you about us?"
Yngvar shook his head. Again, Twig-Beard laughed.
"Then if you will go before us, we shall take you to Lopt Stone-Eye. Had we wished you dead, you'd all be feathered by now."
"He's got us there," Bjorn said. "Should we charge?"
"Don't be a fool," Yngvar said, hoping Twig-Beard and his ghostly companions had not heard the threat. He then gestured that his men should follow him. "We'll go before you, and trust you will keep your word."
They followed a single man from Twig-Beard's group who led them along a winding path that crossed two streams and passed a small cave. Haki's plan must have relied entirely on Lopt's men finding them first. Yngvar could never navigate this place alone.
At last they came to a small village, where ancient A-frame homes seemed to be sliding into the ground. Perhaps no more than seven houses comprised the village, and all had cheerful smoke lifting above their roofs. Dogs barked at their arrival, one running to greet the lead man.
"I know, but Sigvald said Lopt can pay." Yngvar came to the center field where the buildings had roughly encircled. Mostly women with gaunt and distrusting faces peered from the doors, their dirty-faced children clinging to their skirts. A few more warriors joined them in the center.
"Einar Magnusson and his mighty hird," announced Twig-Beard to the gathering. "Come all the way from the north, as his accent shows, just to collect tribute for Sigvald the Boot-Licker."
The villagers laughed, but Yngvar tried to keep an impassive face. He would not be cajoled into a misstep. He had to demand the tribute, using force only if needed. He knew the history of violence here. But as he looked at these men in the full light of the afternoon sun, he realized they were no match for him and his men. These villagers were thin and wiry, like vines struggling to live in hard earth. Their weapons remained sheathed, but the swords were short and the scabbards old. None had a shield. Yngvar and his men would hack through them like old sail cloth.
"I wish to speak to Lopt Stone-Eye," Yngvar said. "We represent Jarl Sigvald Thorklasson, and we are here to collect lawful tribute owed him. We do not wish violence or harm to anyone."
No one answered, and each stared flatly at him. A nervous dog began to bark at the rear of the gathering. Yngvar was about to repeat himself, when the small crowd parted.
A man no taller than Alasdair pushed to the front. He was strong, thin, and wore peasant clothing of plain, gray wool. His face was smothered in blue swirls of what might once have been patterns now ruined with the slack flesh of age. His grizzled hair hung limp at his shoulders. Yet most arresting was his left eye. It was of polished stone, set into a ruined socket. The gray stone had a crude blue eye painted on it to match Lopt's real blue eye.
Yngvar's revulsion must have been apparent, for Lopt Stone-Eye smiled to reveal four yellow teeth.
"At last Sigvald sends me a reasonable man. You say you've no wish for violence. Neither do we. You see we are humble people here. No one wants to lose life over something as petty as silver. We cannot afford the loss."
"Well, I'm relieved to hear you say so," Yngvar said. He glanced at Bjorn, who frowned as if his evening meal had been stolen from beneath his mouth.
"Yes, in fact, tonight you shall feast with us. It will be modest, but we shall make it better by building a bonfire to celebrate. We've plenty of timber and plenty of ale. It will be enough. Please, make camp where you will. Promise to keep your swords in their sheaths and we shall do the same. Then after we have feasted, we shall discuss what is owed. I do not think I can pay all he asks, but I can pay some."
Yngvar nodded. Lopt and his men seemed satisfied with the gesture and left them to set down anywhere in the field. They dropped their packs and sat on the grass. Bjorn let his ax slide through his hands to his feet.
"That's a shame. I expected a good fight."
"This is odd," Alasdair said. "For there is no challenge to this at all."
"Don't worry for it," Yngvar said. "I'm sure they will either try to get us drunk or poison us tonight. Let's be on guard, for the trap has not been sprung."
"So let's cut their heads off and have done with it," Bjorn said. "Why let them trap us?"
"There is a chance they are sincere, as well," Yngvar said. "Who knows what the situation is between them and Sigvald? There's more going on here. But we've no choice other than ceding the first move."
"Cut their heads off. That's a choice."
"It's not the right one. We're not here to kill, but to serve King Hakon. This tribute is just an obstacle to overcome before the bigger task. We must be wary of being trapped while collecting the silver. Remember Thorfast is a hostage. Even if we win the fight, we might be delayed in returning. Then what might happen to him? What if Lopt has buried his treasure? How long to find it? We can't treat this like a raid."
Alasdair watched the villagers already gathering firewood for the bonfire. He rubbed his chin. "I don't trust them."
"Neither do I," Yngvar said. He watched a woman throw a log onto the pile and she slyly glanced at him before hurrying away. The real danger was yet to reveal itself.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Yngvar had never seen a bigger bonfire in his life. During Yule his father had set huge bonfires so that men could revel outside and keep warm. To Yngvar, he thought those bonfires must be the cooking fires of Muspelheim's fire giants. Yet now he stayed back from an impractically enormous fire that crackled and roared into the black sky. It dwarfed any fire his father had ever built.
"My eyebrows are burning off and I've already backed up twice," Bjorn said.
All of Yngvar's men huddled on the grassy field, their shields on their backs and peace straps on their swords. Bjorn and Alasdair stood with Yngvar holding horns filled with watery ale. No one refused a drink, but none dared sip from the horns. All around them, the villagers danced and cavorted to tuneless pipe music. Young men lifted women's skirts to reveal milk-white legs, causing the girls to scream playfully. Lopt's people enjoyed themselves. Yngvar's men loitered at the edge of the light, the blaze slashing deep shadows into their unhappy faces.
"I've never seen such a celebration," Alasdair said. "What is this?"
"Must be some Danish tradition," Yngvar remarked. He surreptitiously dumped his ale horn into the grass. His stomach growled, protesting his refusal to eat anything offered him. Lopt's serving girls, rather than take offense, had simply giggled and left them hungry. Still, he had not wanted to offend by eating his own rations.
"Lopt must've lost some of his brains along with his eye," Bjorn said. "Are you watching him?"
Yngvar nodded. Lopt had stripped to his waist and danced about the fire with the others, his gray hair now glowing with the blaze. His skin glistened with sweat and he seemed on the verge of falling into the bonfire along with all of his men.
"I think he worships fire," Alasdair said. "I've heard the Picts still worship fire and can see the future in the flames."
"Enough of this," Yngvar said. "We've indulged his so-called hospitality. Time to discuss the tribute. I want to leave at first light. Haki won't wait for us beyond a day, and I don't want to risk getting lost."
Despite the heat, he still wore his cloak, throwing it over his shoulder so that the hilt of his sword showed. Even with peace straps on his long sword, the short sword at his lap was easily drawn and the shield on his back was ready to arm if needed. He squared his shoulders and Bjorn joined him, then they waited for Lopt to dance his way around the fire.
"Lopt Stone-Eye," Yngvar called as the chief spun past him. "We have matters to discuss. Take a moment to rest. Speak with me."
At first it seemed he would dance away, but he spun back and paused. His sagging chest heaved from his exertions and he gave a weak smile. Yngvar noted the crisscross of battle scars and the faded tattoos covering his torso. He must have been a great warrior in his day, despite his stature.
"A persistent man," Lopt said. He glanced around himself, peering into the darkness on either side. The fire was so brilliant that when Yngvar tried to follow Lopt he saw nothing but a dull orange glare in the shape of the fire.
"It is my duty to insist," Yngvar said. "Your hospitality is praiseworthy. But the reason for my visit must be addressed."
"It can't wait until a more auspicious hour? Perhaps midnight? It is an hour for magic and visions, where the future is revealed to all. Would that not be better?"
"I can think of no worse time," Yngvar said. "I wish to travel tomorrow and be well rested. Speak with me now."
Lopt's stone eye seemed just as alive with mirth as his other eye. He bobbed his head. The mad pipe music stopped and the dancers staggered to a halt. The men were winded and leaned on their knees. Yngvar counted fifteen capable fighting men. Women and children could not be discounted from a life-or-death brawl. But Yngvar was confident of victory in a tradition
al fight.
"Jarl Sigvald Thorklasson has not collected taxes owed for the last two years. That is now levied as three pounds of silver or the equivalent in trade goods. We have no means to carry goods, so you must pay in silver. Will you pay this tax in good faith? Sigvald will again extend his protection to your lands and your transgressions against him will be forgotten. I have Jarl Sigvald's word upon these promises."
"Yes, protection," Lopt said, smiling at the men who joined him. "I need protection from Sigvald. Tell me, Einar Magnusson, are you so eager to serve Sigvald without knowing more of your lord? You come from far away. Why have you sought such a weak man?"
"He holds a sea fort filled with ten times the number of men you have," Yngvar said. "You call that weakness?"
"But yet he kneels to a jarl far from here, who never comes but to ensure his tributes are paid. Lopt Stone-Eye has ever loved independence. I am my own man, and own ruler. The people here are poor, true, but they are free and what they earn or do not earn is not my concern. We provide for ourselves, trade where we can, and live happy lives. Must you interfere in that? Think on this, and tell me in the morning."
"The morning is too late," Yngvar said. "You have had all day knowing our intention. Will you pay or not?"
"If I do not?" Lopt's cheeks bulged with his smile. The bonfire painted his sweat-slick skin yellow.
"We will do as we must to collect what is owed," Yngvar said. "I take no pleasure in violence for violence's sake. Please make the right choice, Lopt Stone-Eye."
Smile vanished, Lopt raised his hand without taking his eyes from Yngvar. "Bring the man his silver."
The entire revel had collapsed to silence, and only the snapping bonfire made any noise. Lopt continued to stare at Yngvar as if daring him to look aside. But Yngvar was not going to lose the contest and held the odd chief's gaze until a man returned with a leather sack over his shoulder. He dropped it at Yngvar's feet and the chime of silver rang from the bag.
Odin's Ravens (Descendants Saga Book 2) Page 9
