by Peter Fox
The Sea Dragon ground into the shallows and disgorged a stream of warriors, and was soon followed by the others. Within moments Rathulf’s supporters stood facing a horde of two hundred or more angry men, all jostling for a place so that they might be the one to wield the killing blow. Eirik’s men stood in prime position at the front, having earnt that right by arriving first.
‘We should have run,’ Sigvald murmured, tightening his grip on his sword.
Eirik pushed his way through the noisy crowd and came to a stop a few feet in front of Sigvald and the others. Cnut appeared, standing to Eirik’s left, while Snorri stood to Eirik’s right.
‘Greetings, Jarl Eirik,’ Thorvald said carefully. ‘Our warmest welcome to you and your fellow travellers. Our home is your home. I trust you are well, and your journey was without incident.’
‘My thanks to you, Thorvald,’ Eirik replied with equal courtesy. ‘Alas though, our trip has thus far been...’ He paused, searching for the right word, ‘eventful.’
‘Nice of you to drop by again, Eirik,’ Sigvald interjected airily, ‘but the party’s over.’
‘You know damn well why I am here,’ the chieftain said icily, ‘and you’re lucky I found my brother before Cnut got there; otherwise all of you would be lying dead in the burnt-out ruins of your lovely new farmstead by now.’
‘You found him?’ Thorvald asked, unable to hide his alarm.
Eirik paused before answering, and then he changed tack. ‘Thorvald, I would be grateful if you would grant me an audience with your son. I fear he may have been involved in a serious incident and I am keen to determine his part before launching formal proceedings against him, and indeed all of you.’
‘Rathulf is willing to face whatever accusations as may be raised against him, and trust that the law will protect him.’
‘A fat lot of good the law will do him,’ Sigvald interrupted, ‘with all these thugs baying for blood. They’ll have Rathulf’s head off before he can open his mouth. Starting with him,’ he nodded at Cnut, who glared back at him, his left hand resting pointedly on the hilt of his sword.
‘You needn’t worry about him, or any of them, at least not yet,’ Eirik said. He gave an order, and his men stepped out of the crowd, turned to face the gathering, then drew their weapons and stood at ease. ‘As I have already told you all,’ Eirik said to the rowdy throng, ‘I will talk with the boys myself. There will be no trouble while I am inside. I will not be dishonoured in this matter. Understood?’
The men variously grumbled and muttered under their breaths, but Eirik was clearly satisfied, for he turned and gestured for everyone to go into the house. Sigvald helped Thorvald back up to the steading while Eirik held the door open for them. Cnut made to enter, but Eirik put up his hand and shook his head. Cnut began to protest, but Eirik told him plainly to step aside and wait with the others. Cnut held Eirik’s gaze for a moment longer, then he turned on his heel and stalked back down to join the mob waiting by the shore. Eirik instructed Snorri to keep watch at the door, and then he went inside.
Rathulf sat at the other end of the room, staring intently into space. He was blatantly nervous, and Sigvald felt somewhat disappointed in him. Perk up, he thought, looking at Rathulf and lifting his own shoulders by example. Rathulf immediately drew himself up and raised his chin, but he still looked terrified. There was no sign of Leif. Alrik sat well away from Rathulf, maintaining his anger over being excluded from the expedition. Thorvald uncorked the mead jug and handed his best cup to Eirik then offered the others a drink. He ushered Eirik to the bench, and they all sat down in awkward silence, Eirik choosing to sit opposite Rathulf.
Sigvald sat down next to his foster-son. ‘Relax,’ he muttered into Rathulf’s ear. ‘You look like a stuffed gosling ripe for the cooking.’
Eirik Ravenhair, jarl of Lustrafjorden, leaned forward and looked Rathulf square in the eyes. ‘Now then young man,’ he said. ‘Perhaps you’d like to tell me what happened at my brother’s steading the other day?’
Rathulf looked over to his father, his face stricken for a moment. Then he steeled himself and turned back to Eirik.
‘I killed your brother.’
7. A bleating fart
Thorvaldsby, Aurlandsfjorden, Norvegr
Rathulf waited for Eirik’s fury to come, but the jarl looked at him frankly, then gave a tilt of his head and took a swig from his mead. ‘I did do it,’ Rathulf said, surprised that Eirik didn’t seem to believe him.
Rathulf felt the heel of Sigvald’s shoe press into his foot, but he resisted the temptation to glance at his foster-father.
Eirik contemplated Rathulf’s answer for a moment before speaking. ‘Did you?’ he asked.
Rathulf wanted to look away, but Eirik held him in his blue-eyed gaze. It was said that the jarl could peer into a man’s face and know all that he was thinking in an instant. Rathulf felt the chieftain’s eyes bore into him, and he tried his best to fill his mind with silly, irrelevant thoughts, like how many sheep there were in the byre, what he had eaten at his party the other day, how much trouble it had been to find the right turf for the roof, anything but Horik and the horrific injuries Leif had inflicted upon him. Rathulf’s heart gave a stutter when he realised what he had just done. He blinked at Eirik in a panic.
Eirik released him and sighed. ‘I think you could save yourself, your friends and your family a considerable deal of hardship if you told the truth, young man.’
‘It is the truth,’ Rathulf said stubbornly.
‘I’m sorry, Rathulf,’ Eirik said, ‘but as hard as I might try, I really cannot see you as a base murderer. You’re just not the type.’
Rathulf didn’t know what to say. On the one hand, it was nice to think that Eirik refused to believe he was able to commit such a crime, but where did that leave him, and more importantly, Leif?
Eirik turned to Alrik. ‘What about you? You saw what happened. Did he kill him?’
Alrik glanced at Rathulf then looked back at Eirik. ‘I wasn’t there,’ he muttered darkly.
Eirik cocked an eyebrow, genuinely surprised. ‘Really? Cnut did say you were nowhere to be seen, but I wasn’t expecting that to be true. No matter. Do you believe him?’
‘Believe who?’
‘Rathulf. Did he kill Horik?’
Alrik frowned at Rathulf, shrugged, and then said, ‘he says so, but what would I know? As I said, I wasn’t invited.’
‘Alrik!’ Bardi warned.
‘What do you want me to say?’ Alrik snapped. ‘Of course I don’t want him to have done it, but then who did? It obviously wasn’t Leif, so I don’t know what to believe. Maybe it was Marta?’
‘No,’ Eirik said, ‘Marta was also killed.’
The others variously gasped and drew breath. Rathulf swallowed, unable to hide his shock. He’d not seen her anywhere. He hadn’t even given any thought to her until now. What terrible thing had Leif done to his step-mother?
Eirik was watching him closely. ‘Rathulf, much of Norvegr holds you in high esteem. You are intelligent, brave and loyal, but most of all, you are unfailingly honest. I don’t know whether you’ve noticed, but honest people make terrible liars. Even your best friend doesn’t believe you, and for good reason.’
‘I’m not a liar,’ Rathulf countered. He frowned at Eirik, angry and grateful all at once, a part of him enormously relieved that Alrik didn’t think him capable of such horrors, but his gut warned him to beware. Eirik was setting a trap, and Rathulf knew that if he was not careful, his story would be ripped to shreds and Leif would be left to face his accusers alone. Rathulf tore his eyes from the chieftain and stared into the fire, fighting to quash the knot of despair that was tightening in his stomach. It had never occurred to him that Eirik might not believe him, but he had no choice. He had to stick to his story; it was the only way he could save his friend.
‘You’re looking decidedly uncertain of yourself,’ Eirik observed. ‘Why don’t we take a step back and start at the beginning? Tell me wha
t happened.’
‘You don’t have to say anything,’ Sigvald said quickly.
Rathulf looked at his uncle for a moment and saw that there was no doubt in Sigvald’s mind that he thought Rathulf guilty. Upon reflection, it was strange how easily Sigvald had accepted Rathulf’s admission of the murder. It was almost as if the big man had wanted it to be so. At least Alrik was unhappy about it. Rathulf turned away and spoke into the fire.
‘I arrived at the farm to find Leif in the hog pen…’ He went on to tell the same story he had related to his father and the others three days ago. He paused, glancing up at Eirik’s face to see if his tale was striking a chord.
The chieftain took a sip from his mug, then said, ‘go on.’
‘Horik turned on me and came at me with an axe. I knocked it out of his hand, but he came at me and tried to strangle me. That’s how I got these.’ He laid a finger on the fading marks on his face and neck. ‘I pushed him off and hit him again. I don’t know what happened then. I was so angry. I just hit him over and over, until he was dead...’ He trailed off, the image of Horik’s battered body returning to haunt him. He took a wavering breath and blinked. The empty eye socket gaped up at him in his mind, and he recoiled at the memory. Sigvald placed a hand on his leg and muttered, ‘you did the right thing, boy.’ Thorvald looked at his son, the expression of dread quite evident on his face. Rathulf swallowed.
‘Have you ever witnessed a berserker rage before, Rathulf?’
Rathulf looked at Eirik blankly for a moment, surprised by the unexpected question. He had of course, or at least the tail end of one, but how could Eirik know that? He shook his head. ‘No,’ he lied. ‘Why?’
‘Men speak of such rages in glowing terms, but it is a very frightening thing, to be in the presence of a person who has lost all sense of humanity and whose single-minded desire is to kill. Very useful in battle I’ll grant you, but also dangerously unreliable. There has been more than one occasion when a berserker of mine has turned on my own men. You see, they get into such a state that they can no longer distinguish friend from foe. They just attack whatever gets in their way.’
Rathulf stared at the chieftain, his mind in a muddle. It was all too obvious that Eirik could not be fooled. Without even being aware of it, he touched his hand to the scratches on his face.
‘I think that perhaps you witnessed such a rampage,’ Eirik continued thoughtfully. ‘Tell me about your sword.’
Rathulf looked at the chieftain, again thrown by the sudden change of tack. ‘What about it?’
‘Why use a block of wood when you had your sword?’
‘Maybe he didn’t take it,’ Sigvald suggested pointedly. ‘Perhaps he left it at home.’
Eirik cast Sigvald a scathing look, then he turned back to Rathulf, waiting for his answer.
‘I, I don’t know,’ Rathulf said helplessly. ‘The wood was there, and I just picked it up.’
‘So, you didn’t use your sword at all.’
‘No.’
‘You’re absolutely sure of that?’
Rathulf paused, his mind in a panic now. What was so important about his stupid sword? It had to be a trick. ‘No,’ he said finally.
‘No, you aren’t sure, or no, you didn’t use it?’
‘No, I didn’t use it. You saw how he died. His head was all smashed open.’
Thorvald drew in a sharp breath and looked at his son with renewed dismay. It only now occurred to Rathulf how terrible this must be for his father. As far as Thorvald knew, his only son had murdered a man in cold blood by brutally bludgeoning him to death.
‘And that’s how he died, of course,’ Eirik said, his tone implying that it was not.
‘His brains were all over the floor. His eye was stuck to the wood.’
Thorvald blanched. Alrik clasped his hands over his mouth as he fought back a dry retch.
‘What’s the point of all this, Eirik?’ Sigvald demanded.
‘My point? If Rathulf acted as he claims, how is it that Horik had a sword thrust to the heart? Yes, he was bashed senseless with a block of wood, but that alone didn’t kill him. I should say that the person who did this was frustrated that my brother still breathed, despite what had been done to him, so he fetched a blade and plunged it into Horik’s chest several times to make sure. The marks of the sword are clear on the floor under my brother, and there are matching holes in his body, of course. Scores of holes as a matter of fact; the kind of thing you’d expect in the frenzied, mindless attack of an enraged berserker, or an abused son who’d finally snapped.’ As he spoke, Eirik made the close-fisted motions of feverish stabbing with his hands, plunging his imaginary sword again and again into Horik’s body, his face set in a wild-eyed grimace.
Rathulf couldn’t help himself. He glanced over at the curtained sleeping place, horrified by Eirik’s description of Leif’s mindless slaughter of his father.
‘My brother’s bloodied sword lay nearby,’ Eirik continued. ‘I’m surprised you missed it.’ He turned to Sigvald. ‘So can you see, Sigvald, why I have a problem with your beloved Rathulf’s story?’ He paused, his gaze sweeping to Thorvald. ‘I know that you didn’t believe him either. All credit to you then for standing by your son’s story, but I’m afraid it won’t save Leif.’
Rathulf closed his eyes and swore inwardly. He had failed. In every way possible he had let down his friend, and now Leif would be taken away and killed, all because Rathulf had been too stupid to work it all out. I should have paid more attention and looked more closely, he thought miserably. But I was too scared to go back in there.
Alrik held his hand over his mouth, tears of relief welling in his eyes as he realised that his friend really hadn’t done those horrible things after all.
‘Rathulf,’ Eirik said. ‘We both know you had nothing to do with Horik’s death. Apart from attacking Alrik, and my son, both of which were in the normal fray of life and quite understandable if I might say, you’ve never raised a hand in anger against anyone. If anything, your unwillingness to bring harm to others will be your foremost failing as a Viking.’
‘I will not let you take him,’ Rathulf said defiantly, the words springing from his lips before he thought about what he was saying.
‘I know you think you are doing the honourable thing by your friend, but he will have to face up to his crimes, you know.’
‘And what about us? What about the crime of standing by whilst Horik beat his son near to death and forced him to do such unspeakable things? All of us – including you – have a hand in this,’ Rathulf said angrily. ‘We are just as guilty.’
‘Rathulf!’ Thorvald scolded, but Eirik raised his hand.
‘He’s right to point,’ Eirik said, ‘but it doesn’t change the fact that Leif slew his father. And his step-mother.’
Sigvald suddenly understood what Eirik was saying, and he looked at the chieftain surprised. ‘You don’t honestly think that Leif killed Horik? The boy has never lifted a finger in his own defence in his life. Everyone knows he’s a coward.’
Rathulf shot a furious glance at Sigvald, who seemed to have conveniently forgotten about the avalanche, but the golden-haired chieftain shrugged as if to say, it’s true, isn’t it?
‘Cowards can be very dangerous when pushed to the limit, Sigvald.’
‘Leif is not a coward,’ Rathulf interrupted. ‘Why does everyone speak of him as though he’s useless? You know what Leif has had to put up with. Why is it so impossible that he might one day stand up for himself?’
‘Ah, Rathulf,’ Sigvald warned. ‘I’m not sure this is helping your cause.’
Eirik raised an eyebrow. ‘That is precisely what I am saying, Rathulf. Leif killed his parents, no doubt incited, as you say, by the treatment he has received at their hands.’
‘And now Leif has to die for it?’ Rathulf demanded, outraged by the injustice of it all.
‘My brother may not have been a perfect father, but it does not excuse his murder.’
‘Excuse
it?’ Rathulf spat. ‘Horik deserved it! You knew what he was doing to Leif. Why didn’t you do anything to stop it?’
‘I’d be a little more careful with my words, young man,’ Eirik warned. ‘It is not my business to tell my brother how to raise his son, nor yours to insult him in front of his kin.’
Rathulf stared at the chieftain, astounded. Could he really have such disregard for his own nephew? Suddenly it became clear to Rathulf how Eirik had become the great man of power that he was. Not because he was fair or just, but because he was cold and ruthless. He had tricked Rathulf with his platitudes into admitting that he had nothing to do with Horik’s death and that it was all Leif’s doing. I’m such a hopeless idiot, Rathulf thought angrily.
‘Leif stays here,’ Rathulf said coldly.
Eirik’s face grew angry. ‘No, Rathulf, and before you start blabbing at me about the law, two hundred men are standing outside desperate to chop you to pieces, because, unlike me, they are stupid enough to think you are responsible. If you shut up for a moment, you will hear them.’ He paused, inviting Rathulf to do the same, and sure enough, the muffled sound of the massed mob could be heard from outside.
‘How do you propose to protect yourself and your friends from them? And do you believe they will stop at just you? Or Leif? Every person here at Thorvaldsby will be chopped to bits if you don’t hand Leif over to me. That’s a lot more blood than my brother’s to have on your hands.’
‘He’s all yours,’ Alrik said suddenly. He stepped over to the curtained-off area and whipped back the screen. Leif cowered in the corner. ‘Get up, drittsekk,’ Alrik said, grabbing Leif’s arm. ‘Or are you just going to let Rathulf take the blame for everything and get us all killed?’
‘Leave him alone!’ Rathulf cried, leaping up himself and dragging Alrik away from Leif.
Alrik shoved back, but before the two boys could descend into a fistfight, Sigvald sprang into action and grabbed his nephew, holding him tight. Alrik struggled in vain against his uncle’s grip.
