“Of course,” smiled Mar. They all parted on good terms.
22. Geirrid’s Travels
In the evenings, Geirrid told his parents tales of the places he had seen. He had travelled as far east as Kurland. He had wanted to go on to Novgorod the Great and perhaps then south to Miklagard in Greekland, the greatest city in the world, but that had to wait for another voyage. Geirrid enjoyed travel, he said, and seeing strange places and people. He told of the Finnish wooden shrines built like small houses for their land-spirits to live in and the outdoor temples the Slavs built for their terrible four-headed god. He told Gwyneth of the distaffs built into seats that were used by women across the Baltic and he told Colm of the North Finns who farmed reindeer instead of sheep and milked them like cattle. He had seen sea monsters, too, great whales and huge fish and a giant thing, longer than his ship, whose head was a mass of writhing snakes. And he spoke of things he had not seen but had only heard about from other travellers. He spoke of these things with such relish that Colm understood his son meant to leave Iceland and go trading once again. Tentatively, he mentioned Greenland, where Eric the Red had started a settlement. Geirrid shook his head. “This is as close to the edge of the world as I ever want to be. I mean to go to its center, the place that is the pivot for all the people and activity that there is!”
Gwyneth had stopped spinning. She sat with lowered head. She had hoped her son would stay close by and not go sailing off again. Colm said, “At least you’ll stay the winter with us?” It was a question, not a statement.
Geirrid smiled and it seemed to Colm as though his son wore a mask of skin over his own face, a trader’s mask that might smile and dissemble as it gulled a customer. “We’ll see,” said Geirrid.
“Well, is it safe, then, for me to attend this horsefight?” Geirrid smiled at his father and Colm wondered what he was thinking.
“Yes. All that is past now. Orm and Marta have a child and another on the way, I think, but your mother would know for sure. Frosti realizes that he had no chance with her. So there is no harsh feeling there.”
“Ah, good,” said Geirrid, “Then I think I will attend.”
“It may or may not be a good match,” said Colm. He told Geirrid of the fight between Gryr and Raven’s-Mane. “The horse is still a champion fighter but has never really recovered from that battle.”
“You think he may die in the fight?”
“If Adals goes with him into the ring, Raven’s-Mane will fight until he wins or dies. Adals has put everything on this match.”
“As he did before.”
“Yes, and then he won. But if Frosti manages the horse, he will stop the match and take a loss rather than see Raven’s-Mane die.”
“Well, I’ll remember that before I bet.”
For a moment, Colm regretted telling Geirrid what he knew. Then he thought, what of it, this was common knowledge. Many would be watching to see who entered the ring with Raven’s-Mane.
The two men were silent for a moment. They were sitting in an out-building where Colm had pretended to find a chore for the two of them. In fact, he had only wanted to talk. Though the doorway he could see the bright day outside and seed-wool drifting through the sunlight white as snowflakes. A thought struck Colm. “Did you trade for Eystein’s sword?”
Geirrid shrugged. “He insisted that I take it when we reached Iceland, in exchange for feeding him. I didn’t want to, but he is a proud man...” Geirrid suddenly looked up at his father. “You think I took it from him! Took an old man’s last possession when he was in need! Eystein was a great help to me! I told him there was no need for payment! I would sail with him any day! He...he...” The trader’s mask slipped from Geirrid’s face and his mouth twisted in pain. “You’ve never thought I was any good! You’ve always thought I was a cheat and a sneak and...”
“No! No! I always... I wanted...”
“So you brought in Gudbrand to be your son! To be the one you wanted!”
“Oh, no! Geirrid, I had no choice! I had to foster him! And I never wanted to show him favoritism but I could not risk Bjorn’s displeasure.”
“So you bartered me to better yourself!” Geirrid’s expression had melted into one of great hurt and Colm saw him now as he had been as a child. He recognized Geirrid’s expression and knew that he must have seen it before, more than once, to find it now so familiar.
“Oh, Geirrid, stay with us now! I will buy a farm for you...”
“And I would live my days always under your gaze! Always in judgement!” Geirrid dropped his eyes. When he raised his face, he wore the trader’s mask once more. “But I do appreciate the offer, Father. It is quite generous.” He gave Colm a wide, bright smile.
Colm was speechless. He felt as though an iron spike had been driven through his heart. Geirrid stood up to go. Thurid ran past the doorway, shouting in the sunshine, drifting seed-wool shining about her. “It is good that Mother has found a child like that,” said Geirrid, “One that can gladden her heart and make her feel happy.” His smile was bright but his eyes were cold.
23. Raven’s-Mane Fights Again
Everyone from the community and some from neighboring areas came to see the horsefight. Raven’s-Mane had achieved some fame and many wanted to watch him fight. Some people called him Wolf-Biter but they kept that from anyone who wanted to wager against the horse. This time, three horses had been brought to meet him, one match after another. No one doubted that Raven’s-Mane could defeat any of the three other stallions, but there was some question that he could beat three in a single afternoon.
Colm surveyed the crowd. Everyone was dressed in their best, most colorful clothes. The men swaggered, the women preened. The sun was high and hot and the air smelled of sweat.
Thorolf came over to Colm. Hallvard walked a little behind him. The three men exchanged greetings. “Will there be trouble?” asked Thorolf.
“No,” said Colm, “Not that I can tell.” He could not see either Geirrid or Frosti but thought that there would be no problems between them.
Thorolf nodded. “Good. Although there is always a chance that things turn violent at an event like this.” He went off to make his rounds, Hallvard at his heels, greeting this man and that, making certain that no one felt snubbed by his godi.
A shout went up from the crowd as the mare was brought into the ring. Then Raven’s-Mane’s first opponent was led around for everyone to examine. The stallion’s nostrils flared as he passed the mare and people laughed, for they knew that this horse had little chance of mounting her this day.
“Good day, Colm.” Frosti was there beside him.
“Ah, Frosti, I thought you might be managing Raven’s-Mane today.”
“No. Adals does not trust me to fight him to the death.” Frosti shrugged. “And he is correct, of course. Anyway, he is anxious to show off his belt.”
“He has a new belt?”
“Yes, fine leather covered with great discs of silver. Geirrid gave it to him.”
“I see.”
“Geirrid has bet quite a lot of money on Raven’s-Mane, you know.”
“No, I haven’t paid attention to the betting.”
Frosti nodded. “Yes, he is betting on Raven’s-Mane to win all three battles.”
“He is a good stallion.”
“Yes, but he turns slowly to the left ever since Gryr kicked him in the side. I think something was damaged there and never healed properly. And I worry about his breathing. Still, this first horse will not be much of a challenge.”
“It will be the wear of facing three that will cause Raven’s-Mane a problem.”
Frosti nodded. “The second horse will be in it to the death. Those betting against Raven’s-Mane have paid his owner to leave the horse in as long as he can last so as to wear down Raven’s-Mane.” Frosti gestured at the stallion in the ring. “This horse’s owner has refused to be bribed. He wants his animal to gain some experience and be ready to fight well in the future.” The crowd cheered and Colm s
aw Adals leading in Raven’s-Mane. “Well,” said Frosti, “I must get back to my place. I have herbs and tinctures to soothe Raven’s-Mane’s wounds in between matches.”
Adals led Raven’s-Mane around the ring. The silver discs on his belt flashed in the sun. He wore a blue sash under the belt and walked proudly and slowly around the ring. Raven’s-Mane raised his scarred muzzle as he passed the mare and nickered. The crowd laughed and made jokes.
Now the stallions were brought together. Raven’s-Mane reared to the attack but his opponent seemed confused and backed away. Raven’s-Mane’s hooves raked his side and the stallion neighed and charged. The crowd roared at this show of spirit and the two stallions rose, chest to chest, and bit at each other. Raven’s-Mane dropped and turned and kicked hard at the younger horse’s side. There was a deep Whump! as both hooves slammed into the animal. Colm thought that he saw the horse’s ribcage bow under the impact. The young stallion staggered back and Raven’s-Mane turned to charge him but the horse’s owner waved his goad and signalled defeat. Adals turned Raven’s-Mane away and quickly took him out of the ring.
One down, thought Colm, as he watched the damaged horse being led away. And probably good for nothing now, except sacrifice. There was a short intermission to allow more betting and beer-drinking, then the next stallion was led in.
Colm examined this horse carefully. He was light grey with a spotted rump, a bit taller and longer-legged than most horses. He looked rangy and strong. Adals brought in Raven’s-Mane and they got set for the fight.
The two stallions needed no goading but charged and reared together, biting and kicking with their forelegs. They fell back and neither horse was able to get in a kick from its hind hooves. Again, they charged and reared and stood chest to chest, pressing against one another, biting at mane and neck and muzzle for a full minute while the crowd roared its approval. Then they dropped back and gathered to charge again. Both horses showed traces of blood but neither had been seriously wounded. Again and again, they rushed together and sometimes one or the other stallion would get in a kick or rake the other with its fore hooves.
The spotted grey held back for a moment and his owner stepped forward and poked the goad into his flank. The grey reared, a little too soon, and Raven’s-Mane charged forward and drove under the animal’s foreleg before rearing straight up. The grey toppled backwards, pinning his owner to the ground, then struggled to rise. But Raven’s-Mane was on him, hammering his head with blows. The grey lost an eye, gouged out by a hoof, and screamed and rolled under the rain of sharp blows. His owner screamed, too, unable to get out from under his horse. Adals circled around and stretched a hand to the man, but the two horses struggling above kept him pinned. He screamed again and signalled surrender. Adals tried to turn Raven’s-Mane away but the stallion was unwilling to stop and kept kicking at the other horse. Frosti ran into the ring and threw a cloak over Raven’s-Mane’s head so that he backed away and he and Adals took him from the ring.
Men ran out to raise the grey off its owner but the stallion kicked out after it gained its footing and caught one man in the shoulder, sending him somersaulting into the crowd. They managed to quiet the horse finally and led him away and carried his owner to a place where his broken ribs and forearm and ankle could be examined. Colm thought the man lucky; his pelvis could have been crushed or his back broken.
The crowd milled about, chattering excitedly about the spectacle. All thought they had seen something worth the journey.
Geirrid came up beside Colm. “Well, Father, that was quite the fight!”
Colm agreed that it was. “I hear that you have quite a bit of money bet on Raven’s-Mane.”
“Yes, and a good thing I got my bets in early. No one wants to bet against Raven’s-Mane now.”
“Is it a good horse that will come against him?”
“So I hear. And his owner will fight him to the death.”
“Then this will be a hard fight.”
Geirrid agreed that was the case as the last horse was led into the ring. This was a shaggy roan with a black patch on his back like a saddle. He didn’t seem much to Colm’s eye but he could see scars on the stallion’s neck and muzzle that showed he had survived a few fights. His owner was bare-chested, his skin covered with tattoos. On his chest were two rearing horses, their hind legs grasped by an unsmiling god who crouched between them. Other animals and symbols swirled around them, continuing onto the man’s back and interlacing with a stallion whose erect penis ran up the man’s spine. The man’s hair was blonde to the point of being white and pulled back and tied with knotted horsehair.
“He’s a Swede,” said Colm.
“Yes. They love their horses. In fact, some say that they have sex with them.”
Colm’s mouth quirked. “The stallions, too?” He looked at Geirrid.
“Careful, Father. It is said this fellow killed a man in the Westfjords for saying something like that.” Geirrid’s eyes widened. “Though it does seem to me that he was a little too sensitive on that subject.”
Colm’s jaw dropped and he was silenced for a moment. He looked over at Geirrid and then burst out laughing and his son joined in. Colm shook his head. “I’ll keep that to myself,” he said.
The two men chuckled and Colm felt a great rush of warmth for his son. He realized that, if he met this man abroad, he would like him. Then he reflected that, by that reasoning, in Iceland he did not like him.
The crowd cheered as Raven’s-Mane entered the ring. The horse raised his head and Colm thought that he enjoyed the crowd, enjoyed being a champion. He noticed that none of the cuts that the stallion suffered in the last match were still bleeding. Some of Frosti’s doing, he thought, his herbs put to good use.
The horses charged together, reared and bit. They fell back, reared chest to chest again. It seemed to Colm that neither horse was losing itself in rage, that they were probing, each watching for a flaw in the other’s defense. He noticed, too, that both the horses’ handlers were watching Raven’s-Mane. Adals urging him on, the Swede silently appraising. Then the Swede began using his goad. He did not prod or poke the roan, just touched it on the neck or shoulder. Each time, the roan turned from the goad and bit at Raven’s-Mane. Then Colm understood. The Swede could tell that Raven’s-Mane was slow going to his left, so he had the roan attacking from that side. The stallion could get in a great bite before Raven’s-Mane could react. The roan learned, too, and soon the Swede did not need to use his goad. The horses reared, thrust at one another, and the roan would turn and bite into Raven’s-Mane from the left, then drop away. Raven’s-Mane whirled to try to kick the roan, but Adals stumbled in front of his horse and the kick did not connect.
“Those who wanted Adals to manage Raven’s-Mane were wrong,” Colm murmured.
“What?”
Colm told Geirrid what Frosti had told him. “The Swede has discovered that Raven’s-Mane is slow to his left. Adals might be willing to fight his horse to the death, but he lacks the skills that Frosti could have brought to this match.”
Geirrid turned to the fight. His mouth set into a line as he watched the stallions, then he walked away. Colm watched him disappear into the crowd then returned his attention to the fight. The Swede’s horse reared, turned and bit, then dropped away. Raven’s-Mane tried different counters but eventually the roan would wear him down. The horses circled and Adals leapt to one side, near the corridor where the horses were introduced. An arm reached out and grabbed him round the chest and a hand took the goad away from him. Adals was hauled out of sight and Frosti leapt out beside Raven’s-Mane. The Swede’s eyes narrowed, but he said nothing. The crowd yelled. This was great sport!
The roan charged at Raven’s-Mane who reared to meet him. When the roan attacked from the left, Frosti touched his stallion’s shoulder and Raven’s-Mane wheeled to the right, kicking back at the roan’s head. Then Frosti touched Raven’s-Mane’s flank and the stallion raked the roan’s left shoulder with his hooves, turned, and kicked
him hard in the side. The Swede tapped his horse with the goad and the roan stayed back. The two stallions circled one another, teeth bared, snorting clouds of bloody mist. They circled right shoulder to right shoulder, keeping their damaged left sides away. Each handler watched the opposing horse carefully, looking for an opening. The crowd was silent now. People craned foward, their bodies taut.
Frosti twitched his goad but didn’t touch Raven’s-Mane. The Swede reacted, almost touched his stallion into a counter-move but recognized the feint in time to hold up. His lips pulled back in a grin and Frosti grinned back, then tapped Raven’s-Mane who charged in a great burst of tensed energy. The roan reared to meet him and the horses' chests slammed together with the sound of an axe striking a hollow tree. The Swede turned his horse to the right and he kicked back at Raven’s-Mane. Frosti pulled him away but a hoof caught his left shoulder. Raven’s-Mane staggered but Frosti sent him charging again as the roan was turning back, his own left shoulder exposed as Raven’s-Mane hammered down on it with both hooves. The roan stumbled and the Swede leapt to put both hands to his right side and hold him up. But Raven’s-Mane reared again and chopped at the roan’s shoulder. He screamed and reared again. The roan turned his head to dodge the blow but Raven’s-Mane darted his head like a snake and bit into the roan’s exposed throat. Colm remembered how Raven’s-Mane had killed Gryr, at his throat like a wolf, and now blood gushed over the horse’s muzzle. The Swede’s eyes widened in shock. He had never seen anything like this before! He signalled defeat with his goad and Frosti tried to pull Raven’s-Mane away, but the stallion had locked his teeth in the roan’s throat and would not let him go. Frosti pulled off his own shirt and threw it over Raven’s-Mane’s head. Unable to see, the stallion released his hold and allowed himself to be walked away. Blood dripped from his mouth and he shivered with excitement.
The Saga of Colm the Slave Page 21
