by M. K. Hume
Shortly thereafter, the small flotilla arrived at Stormbringer’s home island. Sea Wife skirted around a long headland of stone to approach a neat, shelving beach. The sails were lowered, and the disciplined oarsmen rowed with a will into the shallow water until the boat embedded its bow in the smooth sand. At the last second, the oarsmen raised their blades on an order from Stormbringer, and the ship came to a safe halt with its keel secure in the beach.
Once more, Stormbringer blew on his ram’s horn to warn the local population that theirs was a friendly visit, while his warriors began to unload the stores and valuable items of cargo that would be presented to the villagers. Even an urgent journey such as this one was an opportunity to carry trade goods and gifts for the country folk who were the inhabitants of this settlement.
With nowhere to run or hide, the Britons were permitted to leave the confines of the ship and regain their land legs after the weeks spent on board. Trying to straighten their hair and clothing, Arthur and his friends trudged up the beach and began to follow a sandy track that led into the flat landscape of thick green grasses growing along the sand dunes.
The children came running first, with the eldest in the lead. Several of the boys who were just short of puberty led the way, armed with knives and small bows that flapped over their shoulders as they ran. The girls followed, their long, flaxen hair crowned with loose daisy chains that leaked flowers at every stride. The little ones brought up the rear, stumbling in an effort to keep up with their siblings.
They greeted Stormbringer with crows of delight and quickly jumped up to cling to him. Grinning widely, Stormbringer staggered along the path in the direction from which the children had come. A trail of children dropped away from him, all of them laughing, singing, and shouting joyously in his wake.
So infectious was the children’s innocent welcome that Maeve and Arthur both started to laugh. Arthur picked up one toddler who had arrived late and was sucking his thumb in distress. Perched on Arthur’s shoulders, the small boy was kicking Arthur as if he was a horse, while a wide grin split his tearstained and grimy face.
Other children were lifted high by crew members. Some of the crew seemed to be the fathers of the laughing little mites who crowed and capered all the way over the last of the grass-covered dunes until they all stood above The Holding, Stormbringer’s ancestral home. The captives were immediately impressed by the buildings that lay below them on a rolling plain rich with long grass, cattle, sheep, and fields of new grain that was waving in the sea breeze, protected by the dunes from the worst of its storms.
The long stone houses that they had seen at Heorot were here too, wedded to the chocolate-brown earth with fieldstone walls and tall, pointed roofs that would resist the heaviest snowstorm. The buildings were clustered together in order to protect one another from the onset of inclement weather, and the barns, stables, and piggeries were as carefully built as those houses constructed for human habitation.
This close to the coast, every tree that managed to survive and grow was cruelly bent into a tortuous shape by the ever-present winds. One pine tree twisted grotesquely to grow parallel with the ground, just below the top of the dunes, so that it looked like an ancient man bent almost double.
By comparison, the farm was situated below sea level so its trees were protected from the worst of winter’s gales. In the glossy spring day with the sun dusting the landscape with golden pollen, Arthur could understand Stormbringer’s deep passion for his land and the well-being of his kin.
Arthur could see that both men and women worked the fields, and he accepted that some of these people were likely to be slaves. But he also noted that when the farm workers heard the hubbub created by the children, they looked up, smiled, waved, and completed whatever task they were doing before coming to welcome the visitors.
The Holding was surrounded by a huge ditch, not particularly deep, but perfect for a defense designed to slow attackers down rather than deter them completely.
Arthur shook his head in admiration. The heart of The Holding was surrounded by a picket fence that was heavily gated for protection in times of danger. Within this compound could be found the longhouse of the jarl with the farmsteads of his kin and servants clustered around his hall like chicks around a plump hen.
As they reached the ditch, a wooden pathway provided a dry, safe surface in times of snow or heavy rain. The path ran through to the inner compound, where it joined smaller paths that linked the various farmsteads and barns together. People were crowding onto these paths now, straightening clothing and surreptitiously wiping dirty hands behind their backs. As Stormbringer and his party reached the gate in the wooden fence, most of the adult population was already gathered to bid them welcome.
A beautiful woman walked out from the front of the crowd. Her long blond hair was bound with clasps of bronze, and she had eyes so blue that Arthur was transfixed by their vividness. She threw her arms wide to allow Stormbringer to walk into them and embrace her.
“You’ve come unheralded, brother Valdar. What’s amiss? Don’t lie to me! I’m older than you and I know all the expressions your face makes when you’re stretching the truth.”
A small boy tugged at her skirts until she bent and listened closely as he whispered in her ear. She grinned at her brother.
“My youngest son, Leif, has reminded me that our cooks are preparing a noon meal for you and your men. He says I’m being rude, because you might not wish to speak casually in front of the house servants. I am suitably chastised, Valdar.”
“It’s true that I do have matters of great importance to discuss and I will share these with you and Raudi, your husband. But my men and our guests would welcome food first, and then I’ll explain why you must be more careful of visitors in future.”
Stormbringer took his sister’s arm while two little girls perched on his shoulders. Arthur wondered if these rosy little flaxen-haired girls were Stormbringer’s children.
“It’s time to introduce our guests,” Stormbringer added, and started with Arthur and Eamonn, while giving a full account of their titles and antecedents. “And the two girls are their sisters, Maeve and Blaise. Blaise was promised in marriage to a tribal king in the north of Britain who was assassinated before her party reached the Vellum Hadriani where the groom’s family were domiciled. I captured them during one of my forays and paid good rings of silver for them as hostages, but they have proved to be very troublesome for the price paid.” Stormbringer grinned with good humor, so his sister, Alfridda, frowned and smiled uncertainly by turn.
The British girls colored slightly, insulted by Stormbringer’s apparent rudeness, but the Sae Dene had saved their lives, and the Britons were mindful of their debts.
“Maeve, who is Arthur’s sister, went so far as to attack Aednetta, Hrolf Kraki’s white witch. Her effrontery caused us to be banished but, before you judge her harshly, consider that the Crow King was determined to find fault with me, regardless of the fortune in iron, gold, and silver that I brought to his hall in Heorot. But explanations can wait until after we’ve eaten.”
By this time, the warriors had broken away to join wives or parents, or to gather with the other unmarried warriors in one of the long halls. The largest building, at least four times the size of the smaller farmsteads, belonged to Stormbringer’s family and was a wondrous sight to the British captives.
On a stone foundation, Stormbringer’s house was built of trimmed and dressed timber, and any cracks between the logs were caulked with a mud mortar that repelled the cold of winter. As they neared the longhouse, the Britons could see that this large building was pegged together and whitewashed on the outside. Like the buildings of Heorot, the outer walls were low but, in this case, the great rafters that formed the bones of the roof continued downwards past the base of the walls and into the ground to buttress the heavy roof of reeds. From above, the longhouse seemed to have spokes on two sides that r
adiated outwards at the longer ends.
At each end of Stormbringer’s house, the huge external rafters were far longer than their counterparts that ran along the remainder of the roof. These rafters crossed over at each end, to the east and to the west, with elaborate carving that was exposed along the crossed arms where the rafters entered the ground. Stormbringer pointed out that the decorative wooden rafters told stories about the heroic deeds of his ancestors.
The carving on the eastern doors was equally complex, with a large opening above them, which allowed morning light to enter. Pig’s bladders had been sewn together carefully to a wooden framework to ensure that the elements weren’t permitted to enter the hall.
Stormbringer explained that there was another window on the western end, so that light and warmth gradually flooded into the hall as the sun set in the west.
Inside, The Holding was less smoky and close than the much smaller structures of World’s End, or even those of Heorot. To keep heat inside the hall during the desperate winters, most halls had no windows. Once again, like Heorot, a wooden floor was sawn and erected to rest on a series of stone sills, guarding against rot.
Like the Crow King, Stormbringer refused to use straw on the floors, either for sleeping nests or to hide the accumulated dirt after a long and cold winter. Even now, servants were busy with birch and straw brooms, removing any detritus from previous meals.
As the Britons stood blinking in the semidarkness after the bright glitter of spring sunshine, their eyes gradually saw the partitions of storerooms off to each side of the doorway. The Holding was a smaller and more compact version of Heorot, but a woman controlled the interior spaces of this hall, so the emphasis was on comfort rather than panoply and self-aggrandizement.
The familiar stone-lined and mortared fire pit was placed in the center of the hall. Wooden cradles and a flat iron griddle showed where bread and meat were fried, while small ovens could be placed into hot coals. Wooden divisions in the hall created other half rooms for sleeping.
Alfridda and her women obviously worked hard to make inroads on the accumulated soot stains from a long winter. A wooden bucket sealed with pitch to make it waterproof sat on the floor in one corner, along with a short brush of stiff pig bristles covered with a fatty substance used for scouring. The smell of beeswax was a pleasant addition to the usual stink of woodsmoke, animal grease, and the sourness of soiled clothes.
Long tables were raised to run parallel to the long sides of the master’s hall. A table across the top at the western end was obviously the head table used by the family for their day-to-day meals. For now, the head table and one longer table were set up with wooden trays; bowls of soapstone of such thinness that Arthur was amazed; spoons made of horn and wood and, in Stormbringer’s case, silver. Hot pots of copper and bowls of fine pottery and horn supplemented the utensils usually presented for the use of the Sae Dene’s family and guests.
“We’re eating a little early, aren’t we, Alfridda?” Stormbringer asked. “Nadver isn’t due for several hours yet.”
Arthur’s eyebrows rose, so Stormbringer explained that the Dene people ate two meals a day: davre in the morning and nadver at dusk.
“But men can eat at any time, my brother, especially large lads like young Lord Arthur here.” Alfridda’s tongue stumbled over the unfamiliar name, but her smile was clean, natural, and white. So far, Alfridda had kept most of her own teeth, so her smile was unblemished. “I’m sure you’ll find much here that will tempt you, so eat your fill and more, sirs and mistresses.”
She kissed her brother heartily and settled the children at the same table where they perched on the bench stools with anticipation.
The table was laden with food. Heavy black bread was sliced carefully on a wooden platter. Large bowls of butter, cheese, boiled eggs, and hazelnuts tempted the appetite. Using a metal hook, Alfridda deftly removed the lids from several hot pots, releasing a wonderful heady aroma of herbs and meat in the process.
“The first stew is made of mutton, with carrots, cabbage, and onions, while the other is made from salmon, limpets, oysters, eels, and other seafood. We use coriander and garlic, so I hope you like them. There’s a bowl of mustard near your hand, Master Eamonn, if you like your meat with bite like my brother here. We have supplies of apples, berries, and other nuts, and there is beer or mead if you wish to drink them.”
Arthur savored the fresh scents of mint, dill, and horseradish, as his mouth began to water.
“Not even Stormbringer’s warriors could have dragged me away if I were so well fed at home.” With a silent apology to his mother’s cooking, Arthur bowed his head to Stormbringer’s sister, a compliment that caused her to blush becomingly from the high neck of her dress up to her hairline.
Meanwhile, Maeve’s eyes had become fixed on a ceramic pot filled with honey. “I apologize for speaking out of turn, mistress, but is there honey in that jar? Do you keep hives for the little people?”
Maeve’s quaint choice of words had simply popped into the young girl’s head unbidden, and Alfridda had not heard the old term for many years. She smiled at her with real warmth for the very first time.
“Yes, we keep bees in wicker hives. You can see them just beyond the western gate in the sunshine and within a short flight to the vegetable patch and the fruit trees. If you choose to stay for an extended visit, you’ll have many opportunities to observe them, if you so wish.”
Stormbringer glanced at the Britons, his sister, and the two flaxen-haired girls whom Arthur took to be his daughters. The Sae Dene coughed awkwardly and began to explain the parlous situation that existed between himself and the Crow King. Alfridda became increasingly upset, and when Stormbringer described Maeve’s unusual attack on the witchwoman, she clutched an amulet around her neck and visibly paled.
She’s beginning to think that Maeve is also a witch, Arthur thought, appalled. She’ll make Maeve’s days here an agony!
“How could you have been so stupid, Valdar?”
The Sae Dene blushed under his sister’s regard as she gradually released her amulet and smiled knowingly at her brother.
What’s going on now? Arthur thought wonderingly.
“You must understand, Alfridda, that Maeve had no idea what she was saying to the king’s court, how accurate her instincts were, or how we would be punished for her attack on the king’s woman. She was brave and dauntless, so I don’t blame her for the predicament in which we found ourselves.”
Alfridda continued to smile enigmatically as Stormbringer told the tale of their long run, the village of World’s End, and the battle fought between his warriors and the attacking forces from Hrolf Kraki’s dogs. The Sae Dene’s natural storytelling skills came to the fore, and Alfridda and her young sons stared gape-mouthed as he described the fierce battle. He was especially proud of Maeve’s courage at the entrance to the deep caves and the courage the Britons had shown when defending this insignificant little village.
“But why? I cannot understand why our king would reward your years of service by outlawing our whole clan and banishing loyal tribesmen?”
Alfridda was puzzled as much as alarmed, and her arms went out to clutch her youngest son to her breasts. The boy squirmed away, for he was mad to hear the remainder of his uncle’s story and was careless of any personal dangers.
“The Crow King is smitten with lust for the witchwoman. She poisons his ears so he sees enemies where there are none. Maeve is sure that she is treasonous, and is determined to bring our king and the Dene kingdom to ruin. If Maeve is correct, then the bitch will need to separate Hrolf Kraki from his most loyal and powerful allies.”
“Such as us!” Alfridda exclaimed. Suddenly, Arthur realized how strange this whole conversation had become. Over the past few weeks, he had begun to feel that the Britons were far more civilized and urbane than the Dene, at least in standards of cleanliness, the sophistication of t
heir food and dress, their use of metal and industry and their complex social structures.
So why was Stormbringer discussing matters of politics with a woman? Arthur was confused, as was Eamonn, for both young men had been brought up to believe that women had no place in the council chamber. Even Bedwyr, who discussed everything with his wife in private, would never consider asking Elayne’s opinion on manly matters in public. Arthur decided to ask Stormbringer about this obviously unusual relationship between the sexes when the opportunity arose.
“And then there’s the situation in Skania!” Stormbringer proceeded to explain the parlous situation that was playing out to a dreadful conclusion only a few miles away across the narrow neck of water, albeit far to the north.
Alfridda’s hands twisted and she toyed with the bodice of her tunic.
“By the sainted hands of Mother Mary, brother! If Skania should fall to the Goths, then so too will Ostoanmark. We could never hope to withstand a prolonged attack by the ships of Gothland. That small strip of water and Skania itself are all that protects us from the Gothland king. In the past, he has sometimes shown himself to be friendly and a good ally but, at other times, he remembers old wrongs from the years when the first Scyldings took the coastal rim by force of arms and desperation. If Hrolf Kraki refuses to help the jarls of Skania, then he’s turned into a stark, staring madman, or he’s become ensorcelled by the witchwoman. Either way, these troubles could become the beginning of the end of all of us. I’m certain that if this island falls, then the others will also, and the Crow King will really be the Jarl of Nothing. May the gods protect us!
“You must call up all those men who are sworn to your standard and convince them to sail to Skania with you,” Alfridda decided firmly. “You mustn’t delay, brother! If the white witch plans treason, then the Hundings will attack the Crow King from the south and he’ll continue to ignore Skania. Before Hrolf Kraki can blink, he’ll be attacked through his safe underbelly, and they will march across our bones and blood.”
