by M. K. Hume
The Village of World’s End
Chapter XIV
REFUGE AT WORLD’S END
Justice is the constant and perpetual wish to render to everyone his due.
—JUSTINIAN, Institutes
Arthur could have sworn they had run for hours, but Stormbringer still urged his men to greater effort. No ropes constrained the prisoners, only the knowledge that they must be far away by the fall of darkness, the time when Hrolf Kraki intended to unleash the warriors.
“Why didn’t we take Loki’s Eye?” Eamonn panted, as he helped Blaise to her feet. She had tripped over her long skirts and fallen hard onto the muddy roadway.
“You heard what Stormbringer said,” Arthur snapped as he ripped away the entire skirt from Blaise’s offending dress. With a few appropriate knots, Blaise was soon standing with her legs half bared, and her useless skirts had been turned into a facsimile of the tightly laced trews worn by men. “You’ll be able to run faster now.”
Before he could give his sister the same freedom of movement, Stormbringer materialized from behind them and began to rip at Maeve’s skirts.
“Yes, we could have taken Loki’s Eye, but the king was expecting that we’d try to flee in that direction.” Stormbringer grinned wryly, and his handsome face twisted with regret for the loss of his vessel. “I knew the ship would be well guarded because that’s what I’d normally do. But it’s just a ship, carved from wood, and fitted with a woolen sail. It has no soul and I still have access to other vessels. We must reach the sea and the fishing village that calls itself World’s End. My uncle’s ship, Sea Wife, has been beached there for near to twenty years. My uncle went to the fires of the gods when I was still a boy, so I don’t even know if she’s seaworthy. I can only pray that the Lord, Jesus, is with us.”
He rose to his feet and Maeve discovered that Stormbringer had created comfortable leggings from the rags of her skirt. She bent and flexed her legs experimentally, then her face split into a wide, delighted smile. Watching her, Arthur recalled a private conversation the girls had enjoyed as they traveled along the north road that led into the Otadini lands. They had listed all the traditional constraints of their lives caused by their sex. Skirts had been high on their list of rabid hatreds, because they restricted movement and tied them to the home. At the time, Arthur had resented their desires to be free and to break away from women’s accepted roles. Now? He wasn’t so certain of anything.
“Now you know what it’s like to dress like a man—but we’ve rested long enough. It’s time to run for our lives!” Stormbringer’s long legs led the way, while his warriors and the captives followed in his wake.
The yards lengthened into miles until Arthur’s shoulders ached from the contusions incurred in the battle in the forecourt of Heorot. After the bout, there had been no time to bind his injuries or to bathe and soak away the weariness of abused muscles or the pain from bruises.
The miles unraveled under the desperate beat of running feet. And Stormbringer was still driving them on to further and greater efforts.
Run! Run! Run for your life!
The situation in Hrolf Kraki’s hall had deteriorated rapidly after Maeve had blamed the king’s lack of foresight for the invasion of Skania in the northeast. The king’s carelessness and distraction was clearly a cause of unrest in the south of the Cimbric Peninsula, a region that had once been under the rule of the Angles. Enemy tribes waited for such carelessness, so the whole frontier, to the south and to the east, teetered on the brink of open warfare. In his heart, Hrolf Kraki knew how much trouble he had caused, so he was incensed that lips other than his own had commented on his many omissions.
Nor would he willingly admit that Aednetta had reminded him of the oracle’s curse. Angry at his theft of Geat gold, Woden had withdrawn his favor and, if the Crow King went to war again, the gods had promised that they would surely crush him. In the middle of the night, Aednetta whispered to him of how Stormbringer desired Hrolf Kraki’s destruction by arranging for war to be declared on the Geat king.
“Let Skania take care of itself. Why should you always have to rescue incompetent warriors from their own ineptitude?” Trapped between her warm thighs, he had agreed with her appraisal. But the arrival of the courier had made the king appear cowardly, so his rage had festered and grown.
For her part, Aednetta was very angry with Maeve and her accusations. Any chance to punish the red-haired bitch had been lost with the arrival of the wounded courier, but Aednetta had other fish to fry. Maeve had not kept her silence!
“I tell you, King of the Dene, that your woman will bring the people of these lands to ruin. Disease will come, and it will be potent and killing. Your strength will leach away like snow in the hot sunshine, while many years will come and go before the Dene are strong enough to extend their borders. Near to half the Dene will die, but you will still remain lost in the seduction of her arms while your lands and your people perish around you. Believe me or not, as you wish! I care for nothing that is yours to give, but your people will curse your name if you don’t cast the witchwoman off.”
“Cast her off? You claim to see into the future, so try to read your own destiny.”
“There’s no need to be a soothsayer to read my fate, my lord. You intend to kill me! And my brother and any other Briton who comes within your grasp. Even now, Aednetta has filled your mind with poison so that the death of that poor man who brought news from Skania has not deflected you from your immediate purpose. You are wasting time by dithering and taking your petty revenge out on us. You have forgotten how to be a king, my lord!”
Hrolf Kraki rose to his feet in a deadly rage. His large head turned and flexed like that of an enraged bull that intended to impale its enemy upon its spreading horns. His eyes were reddened and burning in the afternoon light, while his hands opened and closed into fists, as if relishing the thought of snapping the girl’s neck with his thumbs.
“I order that you and yours will henceforth be outcast! You, Stormbringer, brought these creatures to Heorot, so you and yours will also pay for their impertinence. You and all thirty members of your crew must run for your lives! Your family won’t become outcasts, but they will be taken as slaves and will await my pleasure, every one of them. You have until nightfall to quit this place, by which time my guards will be free to pursue you. They will not delay for bad weather or to rest until such time as I give them permission to stop, and they will be my dogs until their deaths—every one of them. When they catch you, your lives are forfeit and you will be killed without mercy.”
“Lord,” Stormbringer tried to interrupt. “You’re wasting time while Skania—”
The king’s face was twisted with excess emotion. “Be silent, traitor. I have given my orders, so Skania can wait!”
“Lord—” Stormbringer appealed again, but Hrolf Kraki ignored him.
“If you should escape from my justice, then you should consider how best to save yourselves. I suggest you run far and fast, for nothing else will succeed.”
“Lord, your kingdom is under attack from traitors. Surely you need all the help you can get,” Stormbringer tried to protest once more. “Hundreds of warriors would be prepared to follow my standard and join an attack on Skania if you permit me to act.”
Without a thought for his own safety, Arthur protested that Stormbringer could hardly be held accountable for the sins of the Britons.
But Hrolf Kraki was too incensed to listen to explanations or excuses. “You’re wasting time when you should be running! Meanwhile, I’ll send fleet horsemen throughout the countryside to declare you and your men as outlaws, so you needn’t think that your precious reputation will secure any assistance from the common folk. They’ll be warned what will happen to anyone who gives succor to you or your warriors.”
On the outskirts of Heorot, Frodhi openly approached Stormbringer with a face that was bleak, angry, and frustr
ated.
“I’ll not say anything about my kinsman’s decision or the part played by your captives in the development of this fiasco,” Frodhi said pointedly. “Incidentally, I won a tidy sum of red gold on them both, so I feel I’m in a position to offer advice and assistance to you and your men—and to your captives.”
He pressed a purse into Stormbringer’s hand. “Don’t bother to refuse, cuz, for there mightn’t be anyone else who’s prepared to help you. I must add that I’m prepared to use my winnings, and more, to hire mercenaries who can relieve the situation in Skania if you manage to escape and you’re prepared to lead an expedition into the lands under threat. For my part, I’ll send ten fully manned ships to The Holding, and I’ll spread the word about the peril that menaces our people. The Crow King might be too besotted with his whore to act, but there are many Dene warriors who are willing to stand and be counted.”
Stormbringer embraced Frodhi briefly, and Arthur could tell, by the slump of the captain’s shoulders, that he was deeply troubled by the apparent hopelessness of their position. His cousin patted Valdar’s cheek affectionately once, and then again, just hard enough to leave a flush mark.
“You’re dwelling on defeat, Stormbringer. Don’t be a fool, cuz, because if you make it to Sea Wife, there’s every chance we can overcome the trials that lie before us. If you can take the place of the Crow King in the coming battles with the Gothlanders, I’d expect you to lead the Skanian people to victory. There’s never been a Gothlander king born who could beat the Dene in battle.”
Arthur had no idea what The Holding was, although he vaguely recalled hearing that Sea Wife was a ship. Nor did he dare to ask any questions in this intensely private moment between the two kinsmen. As always, Frodhi was careful to guard his tongue, and Arthur wondered at the number of years that the Dene nobleman had been forced to filter his language and control his every action for the sake of self-protection.
“The victory will be yours if I live to reach The Holding, and if I can raise a force that will relieve the Skanian lords. I swear to you that I won’t forget the gamble you are taking by helping me, Frod, for anyone watching today could sell you out to Hrolf Kraki for a few coins.”
Frodhi laughed, but there was very little humor in his voice. Arthur wondered how he could have suspected such a brave man, even if the Dene lord did play so many games. But his inner voice continued its warnings by whispering in his head whenever Frodhi was close at hand.
He still took the opportunity to thank the Dene lord before he left them at a brisk trot.
Finally, with the sun beginning to descend through the sky towards the western horizon, Stormbringer realized the hopelessness of their position and gave the order that those who had been outlawed should run for their lives.
And so all thirty-one Dene warriors and their four captives ran.
The townsfolk of Heorot had heard the news of the king’s justice with remarkable speed, so Stormbringer expected that they might be stoned or pelted with ordure as they fled from the town. But, to his surprise, women pressed wrapped food into the hands of his warriors and maidens looped chains of flowers around Stormbringer’s neck. Nor were Arthur and Eamonn ignored. One wizened old woman pressed a curiously carved walrus tusk into Arthur’s hand, while Eamonn was given half a cheese wrapped in cabbage leaves. The crowd was mostly silent, but the mood was sullen and pregnant with anger, as if their king had betrayed them in some fundamental matter.
Almost to the last man, woman, and child, they offered gifts and support in direct disobedience to Hrolf Kraki’s edicts. These simple people knew that they could be executed or punished in various unpleasant ways, but they still offered what they had to the Sae Dene’s warriors in a time of need.
“Don’t these people realize the risks they’re taking?” Arthur asked Stormbringer, gasping slightly as he skidded on the slick cobbles.
Stormbringer laughed sardonically.
“How could the Crow King kill them all? Who would clean Heorot, pander to his needs, guard his hall, and grow the food that is cooked for his table? The people know that if they all disobey, it is difficult for Hrolf Kraki’s lackeys to single out individuals for punishment.”
Arthur nodded, but he thought long and hard about civil disobedience as the group of outlaws ran on into the sunset.
The fugitives had followed a path that ran parallel to the fjord. Then, as darkness and fog began to surround them like a thick blanket that muffled all sound, Stormbringer accepted the necessity to construct a torch out of driftwood, dried moss, and the remains of Maeve’s skirt. With a light of sorts to guide them, he continued to run ahead of the party with the makeshift torch held close to the ground so any pitfalls could be spotted before the fugitives fell and injured themselves.
Arthur worried that Hrolf Kraki’s warriors could be in close pursuit and might see the bobbing light of the torch, but he also realized that Stormbringer had set a wicked pace, even by Dene standards. Perhaps Hrolf Kraki’s warriors weren’t even in the vicinity. At any rate, they needed to see if they were to run—and run they did, long into the night.
Against his will, Arthur considered the likely fate of Thorketil, the wounded giant who had been his opponent. His concerns also extended to Rufus, the warrior humbled by Eamonn. Stormbringer had taken both men under his protection, for what it was worth, but both men lacked the capacity to run, so citizens loyal to Stormbringer had agreed to take them to a safe house in Heorot where they could recuperate in relative safety until such time as horses could take them on the long journey to The Holding. Both men had sworn to rejoin Stormbringer’s troop when they were healed, and were bound by their honor to keep their individual oaths, or to risk damnation.
Why are we taking untrustworthy men into our party? Arthur thought angrily. Rufus was a defeated man whose pride had been dragged in the mud. What would he do to earn the Crow King’s gratitude? He must be closely watched!
“There are times when we have to gamble.” Arthur felt impelled to speak aloud to break the brain-numbing rhythm of running feet. “Sometimes Fortuna curses us, only to bless us in the next instant. Dear God, let it be so on this occasion!”
Like his birth father before him, Arthur saw no oddity or hypocrisy on those occasions when he invoked the good wishes of the Christian God and the pagan Fortuna in the same breath. He put no faith in Fortuna, but she was a useful parable for fate and all its inconsistencies. On the other hand, Arthur believed in the majesty of God; Lorcan had been a wise and knowledgeable spiritual adviser. Arthur’s mother, Elayne, had been ardent in her faith, but she would never believe that her God could turn His face away from those tempted to follow false gods.
So Arthur could invoke both pagan and Christian faiths without any feelings of guilt or dread. As he loped along in a steady rhythm, the various philosophies of religion skittered through his head like disoriented frogs in search of pond water. Above these mental meanderings, his mother’s voice remained a constant, leaving him so full of love and loss that he wanted to cry like a desperate child.
After several hours of traversing difficult terrain, Stormbringer halted the troop and seemed to scent the air like a hunting dog. Changing direction, he led the party down a wider path towards the southeast, although the Sae Dene slowed the pace to conserve their energy. The Britons had no choice but to follow where Stormbringer led them and to enjoy this opportunity to summon their reserves of strength.
One foot in front of the other!
If you fall, rise quickly and continue to run!
Even the powerful Dene warriors were beginning to flag from their exertions, and the girls were staggering with weariness by the time Stormbringer halted, spoke briefly to his second-in-command, then ordered the party to move off the pathway.
“We’ll sleep here in the bracken for the rest of the night. There’ll be no fires! Two sentries must be on watch at all times, and we’ll draw
straws for that duty. Eat what you have in your pouches, for there’ll be no comforts on this night. Hrolf Kraki’s dogs could be hot on our heels, so I only hope that they’re less motivated to run as far and as fast as we’ve been traveling. Sleep now, for we need every man to be awake and at his best when the dawn arrives.”
Arthur gazed up at the moon. Its white face was extremely clear and odd shapes seemed to shade and pock its surface like old scars. He led Maeve and Blaise off the roadway and told them that they should seek shelter in the darkness of the trees where bracken grew lushly in deep shadows. Once they were cocooned in their cloaks, the dry ferns made comfortable nests.
The girls were too tired to protest and had to be forced to swallow the remnants of some black bread from the morning meal and the pungent cheese given to Eamonn by his elderly benefactor. Arthur even devoured the raw cabbage leaves that had wrapped the bread and cheese after his friends had refused to touch such bland fare. The Britons fell asleep, comforted by the fact that Stormbringer’s warriors were nesting around them.
Later in the evening, the moon disappeared behind a thick bank of cloud and cold rain began to fall. The captives had no rest during the downpour, but sleep came almost immediately once the rain had eased to a soft drizzle, and even the thick mud under their cloaks was no real impediment to the healing rest their bodies craved.
Then, roused by Stormbringer’s large and horny hand shortly before dawn, Arthur actually enjoyed the first rays of sunlight that edged their way over the horizon.
“We must go, Arthur. If you’ve any food left, we’ll eat on the run because we’ve remained here for as long as I dare. Rumors of our banishment will spread through the countryside, and while many men dislike the ruler that Hrolf Kraki has become, some of the more remote farmers will be seduced by the promise of coin. My uncle’s boat is still three days away so, by my reckoning, we must move as far and as fast as we can while we are under the protection of this half-light. We can rest later, or when we’ve been killed by Kraki’s warriors!”
