Berserk Revenge

by Mark Coakley

32: DUEL!

 

  As a travelling poet, Halfdan spent many winters travelling around Norway by ski, by horse-drawn sled and occasionally (when it could not be avoided) by ship. He visited dozens of Norse kingdoms, many of them tiny and poor.

 

  At each kingdom, Halfdan would first ask the king's permission to stay there and practice his art. As winter-time was boring, most kings were eager to have a famous fighter and war-chief hanging around to provide entertainment. Halfdan would sleep in the hall with the fighters, sharing their feasts and endless booze-fests, collecting and saving the scraps of silver that were tossed at him after a good poem. (Bones and garbage were tossed whenever a poem was bad, or when Halfdan was too drunk to remember the words.) All went well in his new career -- with family and hard work every summer, and winters filled with art and friendships and being drunk -- until, one winter, Halfdan travelled south to Oslo for the first time.

 

  Far to the south-east of Eid, Oslo was a small kingdom, but under its famous King Haakon it was quickly rising in power and wealth. When Halfdan arrived by horse-drawn sled, shortly after Yule-time, he was surprised to see that Oslo's king-hall was not rectangular in shape, as was normal, but circular.

 

  There were other odd customs in the south-lands of Norway -- only women wore face-paint, not men; and folk did not hang dead sheep outside their doors to please the gods; and human sacrifices here were not drowned in a swamp, as was done in most other Norse lands, but were tossed into a hole in the ground full of poisonous vipers.

 

  King Haakon was grey-bearded and somewhat fat, but still a fierce fighter and active sportsman. He spent much of his time playing a game with sticks and a wooden ball on the ice of a lake, and despite his age, he was often the player who scored the most goals for his team. He reminded Halfdan of King Lambi in some ways, and Halfdan immediately liked him. King Haakon seemed to think highly of Halfdan too.

 

  But one of King Haakon's powerful followers, an officer in the Oslo army, was Egil -- yes, the son of King Njal, who had helped his father to terrorize Eid and who had run away, hurt and defeated, from the battle of the frozen river.

 

  As soon as Halfdan had walked into King Haakon's hall for the first time, Egil had recognized him. With a group of other Oslo-fighters, Egil had angrily approached Halfdan. Halfdan had pulled out his sword. They had circled Halfdan, ready to attack him from all sides, when King Haakon from his feasting-platform in the center of the hall called out, "Stop! This man came here as a guest! Anyone who harms my guest without permission will be thrown to the snakes!"

 

  "But my lord," Egil whined, "this black-faced troll here killed my brother Bjaaland. And he stole my kingdom. And worst of all, he desecrated my father's burial-mound. I have no choice but to take revenge."

 

  King Haakon roared, "Then take it outside my kingdom! Here he is safe!"

 

  Egil whined, "He might be a spy for King Atli!"

 

  "King Atli is a good man," King Haakon said. "And, besides, there are many kingdoms and much distance separating his from mine." To Halfdan, King Haakon said, "What brings you here, and why do you look so dark in the face?"

 

  Halfdan briefly explained his parentage, then his reason for travelling to Oslo.

 

  "A poet? They're always nice to have around in the winter. Are you any good? Let me hear something before I decide on letting you stay here."

 

  "Of course. What subject would you like?"

 

  "Tell me a poem about why Egil hates you so much."

 

  Surrounded by tables full of feasting Oslo-fighters, the darkness of winter-night exiled by the light of the fire-place and the torches on the walls, Halfdan stepped in front of King Haakon's platform and said:

 

  Oslo-king asks me to sing

 

  A poem about -- him?

 

  Halfdan glanced, with a sneer and one eyebrow raised, at grim-faced Egil. Halfdan loudly went on with:

 

  There's much to praise in brave men

 

  But little to mention in liars

 

  I like to chant of heroes

 

  Like the manly King Lambi

 

  And my berserk friend, Haki

 

  Not waste my words on turds

 

  I've nothing nice to say

 

  Of him, this weakling bitch

 

  So hear of his career

 

  Of cowardice and crime

 

  Bad King Njal and this brat

 

  Schemed betrayal of my lord

 

  Breaking vows of peace, they struck

 

  Burning a sacred hall

 

  By luck or by fate, I lived

 

  To tell all of you of

 

  My king, my blood-brothers

 

  My queen, trapped in the blaze

 

  Imagine! How they awoke

 

  To choke on smoke and weep

 

  As walls and roof danced red

 

  Flames stroking my queen's hair

 

  Sizzling skin! Boiling blood!

 

  Flaming wood-beams falling down!

 

  Hear the screams, smell the steam

 

  Of dreams stolen by swirling flame!

 

  Good Oslo-folk, see these tears

 

  As I tell of my grief and guilt

 

  And anger at the gods

 

  Night after night of nightmares

 

  So I sought revenge, of course

 

  As any good man should

 

  I vowed to kill the killers

 

  And did, except for -- him

 

  Revenge! At the battle

 

  Of the beacon, it began

 

  Foes groaned, wolves and crows fed

 

  And the cowards fled from Eid

 

  Back in Sogn, bad King Njal

 

  Felt sickly from a tooth

 

  Not his own, but a better man's

 

  The bite of King Lambi's skull

 

  Sweet luck! King Njal sank fast

 

  With well-earned sufferings

 

  Until, oops, his leg fell off

 

  And demons dragged him to Hel

 

  As he died, my army skied

 

  Across the border-glacier

 

  Our force's fury hotter than

 

  An iron-melting forge

 

  At Sogn we fought a battle

 

  That'll never be forgotten

 

  Shield-walls met with fiercest rage

 


  On the frozen river

 

  The clangs of cold iron!

 

  The steam of blood-slick ice!

 

  Storm of arrows and spears!

 

  Bones broke, flesh tore, men roared!

 

  Haki's heavy ax-head fell

 

  Shields and shoulders shattered

 

  My sword danced and sang

 

  As I painted foe-shields red

 

  A famous victory

 

  For Fjordane and revenge

 

  Dead men lay in falling snow

 

  Wives in Sogn were widows

 

  The red-beaked ravens stood

 

  Over men and boys of Sogn

 

  Bjaaland too (his brother)

 

  Were left for laughing birds

 

  But what of him, in the battle?

 

  Has he not told this tale?

 

  How did this bold-tongued babbler

 

  Show himself in battle?

 

 

  A kitten, a sheep, a rat

 

  This wretch ran from my rage

 

  His brother's body forgotten

 

  Fast-footing to the forest

 

  Ha! What a funny sight

 

  Full of fright, weapons dropped

 

  Sprinting with girlish gasps

 

  A spear stuck in his ass!

 

  Pull down your pants, coward

 

  And show all Oslo the scar

 

  No? Then I will go on, with

 

  A verse on your cursed dad

 

  I dug in Njal's great grave

 

  And dragged out something gruesome

 

  Rotting flesh was fed to hogs

 

  Bones shoved down a shit-hole

 

  King Haakon, lord of Oslo

 

  I've told you of the feud

 

  You have heard how and why

 

  I hate him, he hates me

 

  The king and most of the fighters thought very highly of the poem. The applause was loud and long, except at the table where Egil sat. Egil, humiliated, seethed with fury at the new-comer, but dared to do nothing.

 

  "Welcome, Halfdan the Poet!" the king cried. "You are welcome to stay all winter, if you like!"

 

  King Haakon left his chair to shake hands with Halfdan.

 

  Halfdan spent every night in the hall, chanting poetry and feasting. To prevent a sneak-killing by Egil, Halfdan made sure to never leave the hall except with King Haakon or some trustworthy Oslo-fighters.

 

  King Haakon had a daughter, Solvi, who was Halfdan's age and very beautiful. She was married, but her husband's mind had been damaged by a horse-kick, and now she did as she pleased. She decided that she wanted Halfdan as her lover.

 

  So, during a night of feasting and boozing, she came into the hall and asked to speak privately to Halfdan. They went to a quieter part of the hall and sat together on a bench.

 

  "Yes, Solvi?" he said.

 

  "You are very strange-looking," she said, "but almost handsome. And your poetry is lovely."

 

  "Thank you."

 

  "I hear that, before you devoted yourself to your art, you were a famous fighter and war-chief."

 

  "That is true."

 

  "I see that you still carry a fearsome-looking sword."

 

  Halfdan glanced at the weapon hanging from his belt, nodded.

 

  "May I see it? Its blade?"

 

  Halfdan drew that long, sharpened iron from its sheath and rested the blade on his lap.

 

  She said, "How many men has it tasted the blood of?"

 

  "None. I bought it new last year. My old one got too much rust."

 

  Solvi said, "There is no rust on this blade. It's so bright and beautiful. May I touch it?"

 

  "Of course."

 

  Solvi put her hand onto the blade resting on his lap. She stroked her small, pale fingers along the side of shining iron. "Is it sharp?"

 

  "Of course."

 

  "Let me test it."

 

  She touched a finger-tip to the tip of the sword.

 

  "Careful!"

 

  But she had touched the sword-tip hard enough to break skin.

 

  She gasped, looking at her fingertip. She showed it to Halfdan, holding the finger in front of the bare tops of her breasts, which were squeezed up and together by her tight, fancy-looking dress. The finger-tip oozed a small, dark-red bead of blood. "Now your sword has tasted the blood of a woman, at least," she said.

 

  "I should go back to my table," Halfdan said. He looked around; King Haakon was paying no attention, but a few of the Oslo-fighters were looking curiously at him and Solvi sitting together.

 

  Solvi lifted her pierced finger-tip to her face. Her eyes not leaving Halfdan, she parted her lips and licked the blood. Then she put the finger into her mouth, sucking it, still staring at Halfdan.

 

  Halfdan, feeling uncomfortable and unwillingly aroused, quickly stood and shoved his sword away and went back to his feasting-table.

 

  Solvi left the hall, grinning.

 

  The next night, a slave-girl approached Halfdan's table in the hall. She said, "Princess Solvi would like to talk with you."

 

  "Fine."

 

  "I will take you to her."

 

  "No. She can talk to me here."

 

  The slave-girl whispered, "Princess Solvi wishes to speak to you in private. About something very private."

 

  Halfdan said, "No."

 

  The slave-girl left the hall, looking worried.

 

  A short while later, the slave-girl returned, whispering to Halfdan, "Princess Solvi insists that you visit her. She is waiting for you in a place where nobody ever goes, but it is comfortable. There is food and booze there. And Princess Solvi wants you to enjoy other kinds of treats as well."

 

  Halfdan finally stopped trying to be polite. "Tell Princess Cat-In-Heat that I'm married."

 

  "Your wife does not need to ever know."

 

  He hissed, "Tell Solvi that she is ugly and slutty and I'd rather mount a sheep. Leave me alone."

 

  The slave-girl left. She did not return.

 


  Princess Solvi -- furious, insulted and outraged by the rejection -- did not ever communicate with Halfdan again.

 

  This scheming, wicked woman started to pay much attention to Egil. Again and again, she goaded Egil in private, taunting him as a coward for not taking revenge on Halfdan.

 

  In one of her secret bedrooms, Egil said, "I can't do anything. Your father said he would kill anyone who hurts Halfdan. And now your father and Halfdan are great friends. There's nothing I can do."

 

  "You can be a man, not a whining coward!" Solvi said, eyes flashing with contempt. "If you provoke him into challenging you to a duel, I am sure that my father will not interfere."

 

  "But how can I do that? He ignores all my insults and dirty looks."

 

  "You are so smart -- you'll think of something. Be bold. Like this!" She pulled Egil into her arms, ripping away his fancy clothes; she groaned with shameless lust, dragging him down inside her.

 

  The next night, Egil swaggered over to Halfdan's table and said, "I hear that you Fjordane-folk can't hold your booze! Is that true, troll-face?"

 

  Halfdan said, "That sounds like a challenge to a drinking-contest, you snivelling spawn of Sogn."

 

  "Let's do it!"

 

  A crowd of Oslo-fighters eagerly gathered to watch. Halfdan and Egil each pulled a chair from the table and sat in the gap between tables, facing each other. Even King Haakon left his raised table to come watch.

 

  The rules of the drinking-game were simple. Egil ordered a slave to fill a silver-decorated horn with mead, then he drank it all back in a single guzzle, without stopping to breathe. The slave refilled the horn; Halfdan drank it. The mead (made of Oslo's finest honey) was very strong. The horn was passed back and forth; the two foes got drunker and drunker.

 

  At one point, Egil accused Halfdan of cheating. "You didn't finish it all! You left too much on the bottom!"

 

  Halfdan said, "There is always a little bit left at the bottom."

 

  "No, you're supposed to drink it all! You have to do that one over again! Or I win!"

 

  "Fine," Halfdan said. The slave filled the second horn in a row for Halfdan, and Halfdan drank it quickly back without a breath.

 

  "Now we've both drank the same," Egil said.

 

  Later, both men were having some problems staying on their chairs. Egil's voice was loud and slurred. Halfdan slumped on his chair, his beard and shirt soaked with drooled booze, struggling to focus his vision.

 

  As Egil was guzzling back yet another horn of mead, he coughed. Booze sprayed from his nostrils as Egil pounded a fist on his own chest and gasped for breath.

 

  "Is the horn empty?" Halfdan said.

 

  King Haakon looked over Egil's shoulder and said, "Half of it's still there."

 

  "So I win, Sogn-spawn."

 

  "No!" Egil howled. "I went first. We've both drank the same number."

 

  "You don't admit defeat!"

 

  "No! You have to drink one more to win! All of it!"

 

  "Fine." Halfdan stood up and gestured for the slave to fill the horn and hand it to him. Halfdan lifted the horn to his mouth and lifted it, pouring all of the thick, sticky liquid down his throat. Then he showed the crowd the empty horn.

 

  "The winner is Halfdan!" King Haakon said.

 

  Halfdan burped. He wiped sudden beads of sweat from his forehead.

 

  King Haakon said, "Are you well?"

 

  Halfdan shook his head. He burped again. Clutching his belly with both hands, Halfdan leaned towards Egil and opened his mouth.

 

  Thinking Halfdan was about to say something, Egil said, "What?"

 

  A tide of mead-puke burst out of Halfdan's gagging mouth, pumping out in sticky brown waves, splashing onto Egil's hair and face and fancy-looking clothes, completely soaking King Njal's son with dripping, reeking puke.

 

  "Well-done!" King Haakon howled.

 

  Egil wiped at his face and shouted drunken threats. But, with King Haakon present, he dared not do anything. Defeated and a mess, Egil left the hall, the mocking laughter filling his ears.

 

  The next time that Egil was alone with Solvi, she said, "It is obvious that you will need help taking on Halfdan."

 

  Egil said, "He cheated! That last horn should not have counted -- it has to stay down!"

 

  "I don't care about the rules of your childish games," Solvi said. "I want you to show me that you are brave enough to be worthy of my passion. Or I'll have to find another, less cowardly lover."

 

  "I'll do whatever you want."

 

  "I know. What I want is for you to visit a friend of mine, a powerful wizard. He will know what to do. And if you tell him that I want Halfdan dead too, he will be eager to help, for this wizard is a very close friend."

 

  Egil visited this wizard, who lived in a run-down shack on the edge of Oslo, and told him what Solvi wanted. The wizard was called Thrand. He was an old man, short and plump-faced, one-eyed, with a habit of occasionally licking his lips. He was not Norse, but an exile from Finland. Thrand knew mighty magic.

 

  "To kill Halfdan without angering King Haakon, you must find a way to get Halfdan to challenge you to a duel," Thrand said.

 

  "But he won't challenge me. He acts as if he has been just a poet his whole life, knowing nothing of violence. No matter how I try to provoke him, he always finds a way to ignore it or to embarrass me."

 

  "I have a spell that can change that."

 

  After a silence, Egil said, "There is another problem. Even though he is now just a poet, Halfdan was once the second-most-feared fighter in all the west-lands. I am not sure that I could defeat him in a duel."

 

  "Ah," said the wizard. "Well, I can take care of that difficulty as well."

 

  "Wonderful! What do we do?"

 

  The wizard Thrand told Egil his plan.

 

  The next night, Egil walked into the hall with Thrand. But only Egil could be seen, because the wizard wore a magic cloak from Finland that made him invisible.

 

  As planned, Egil went to Halfdan's table and said, loud enough for everybody in the hall to hear, "Halfdan, I have treated you badly and wish to apologize."

 

  "Fine."

 

  "As a token of my good-will, please take this gift."

 

  Egil held out a shiny silver ring, carved with strange runes and decorated with a glittering, honey-yellow amber-stone.

 

  Halfdan looked at Egil suspiciously.

 

  But King Haakon called out, "Halfdan! I don't know about the manners of folk in Fjordane, but here in Oslo, if a brave man offers an apology and a fine gift, it is rude to refuse."

 

  "Fine. Thank you," Halfdan said, taking the enchanted ring and slipping it onto a finger.

 
<
br />   Egil slunk away to a dark corner, where he spoke with the invisible wizard.

 

  "That ring has magic in it, which I can use to make Halfdan say whatever I choose," said Thrand's voice.

 

  "Do it now!"

 

  Thrand's disembodied voice said, "No, we need to wait a while, and then you need to do something to provoke him."

 

  So Egil waited, until he decided that he had waited enough, and he walked to Halfdan's table. Pretending to stumble over a man's foot, Egil staggered forward, spilling his cup of beer into Halfdan's face.

 

  "Sorry!" Egil said, grinning spitefully.

 

  In the corner, the invisible, watching wizard saw that the time had come to use the magic of the ring. The wizard whispered, "You did that on purpose."

 

  And on the other side of the hall, magic-craft pulled Halfdan to his feet and the wizard's words burst loudly from Halfdan's mouth: "YOU DID THAT ON PURPOSE!"

 

  Thrand whispered, "Oslo is full of fools, and you are the worst!"

 

  Halfdan shouted, "OSLO IS FULL OF FOOLS, AND YOU ARE THE WORST!"

 

  Thrand: "Egil, you let yourself be used as a woman every ninth night!"

 

  (That was the worst insult among Norse fighters.)

 

  Halfdan: "EGIL! YOU LET YOURSELF BE USED AS A WOMAN EVERY NINTH NIGHT!"

 

  Thrand: "I challenge you to a duel."

 

  Halfdan (amazed to find such unwanted words flying out of his mouth) shouted: "I CHALLENGE YOU TO A DUEL!"

 

  Thrand grinned and walked out of the hall.

 

  Halfdan ripped the ring from his finger and complained, "I was enchanted by magic! I did not say those words!"

 

  But nobody believed him.

 

  "I accept your duel-challenge," Egil said, his evil eyes twinkling.

 

  The duel was to be held the next afternoon, on a little island on a river that ran into Oslo-fjord. Grey stones were put on the snowy ground, marking a square. Neither duellist would be allowed to leave the duelling-square.

 

  Before the fight, Egil insisted on inspecting Halfdan's weapons.

 

  "Why?" Halfdan asked.

 

  "Yes, why?" King Haakon said.

 

  Egil said, "Because in the west-lands, where both Halfdan and I are from, sneaky men have been known to put poison on the iron of their weapons. I must check if Halfdan is planning such a trick!"

 

  "Ridiculous!" Halfdan said.

 

  But King Haakon shrugged and said, "It can do no harm to look."

 

  According to the traditions of duelling, Halfdan wore a helmet and body-armour; he had brought a spear, a shield and a sword. As Egil inspected the spear and the sword, he secretly held a rune-covered piece of walrus-horn in a hand and touched it to both of the weapons. The piece of walrus-horn had been enchanted by Thrand, so that "any weapon that he tries to use against you will leap out of his hand, leaving you unharmed."

 

  Halfdan did not notice Egil's sneaky action with the magic item.

 

  "Do you want to check my weapons for poison?" Egil asked.

 

  "No. Enough silliness. Let's fight."

 

  The duelling-square was surrounded by King Haakon and his Oslo-fighters. Egil and Halfdan stood in opposite corners of the stone-marked square, glaring at each other with old hate.

 

  In a Norse duel, one party strikes a blow at the other, who defends himself. Then the positions are reversed.

 

  As Halfdan had made the challenge, Egil attacked first. He ran across the packed, crunchy snow at Halfdan and hurled his spear at him. The well-thrown spear sped towards Halfdan's leg -- Halfdan lowered his shield in time to block it. The spear slammed into the oak-wood circle and knocked Halfdan back a step, but did no hurt. Halfdan yanked Egil's spear from his shield and tossed it aside, out of the square.

 

  "My turn," the Fjordane-man snarled at the Sogn-man.

 

  Halfdan held his spear over his right shoulder, ran towards Egil and hurled it at Egil's head. But, just before the spear left his hand, the weapon magically twitched, ruining the throw. The spear flew high and to the right over Egil's grinning face, splashing into the grey, ice-clogged river and sinking.

 

  "Nice throw!" Egil mocked.

 

  Now Egil drew his sword and charged at Halfdan. Halfdan, shield held high, sword in hand for blocking, waited for his foe's sword-swing. The well-aimed blade whipped at the shoulder of Halfdan's sword-arm. Halfdan half-blocked it with the edge of his shield, but as the deflected blade swung down, it slashed Halfdan's leg. The blade tore Halfdan's pants and scraped a deep cut into Halfdan's leg.

 

  King Haakon shouted, "First blood to Egil!"

 

  It was now Halfdan's turn. He charged at Egil, swinging his sword at Egil's leg. Egil sneered. Just before the sword struck Egil, the enchanted weapon twisted itself out of his hand and spun away, landing just outside the line of stones.

 

  "It's outside the square!" Egil crowed. "Out of bounds!"

 

  Halfdan scowled. Once a weapon left the duelling-square, it could not be recovered.

 

  All he had left was a shield.

 

  Halfdan said, "I suspect that more evil magic is at work here!"

 

  King Haakon looked troubled, but said nothing, allowing the duel to continue.

 

  Egil's next sword-swing made it past Halfdan's shield, clanging off Halfdan's helmet, stunning Halfdan and painfully pulling a muscle in his neck.

 

  "Now it's my turn," Halfdan growled.

 

  King Haakon said, "Halfdan, you are without weapons. If you wish to surrender now, Egil will have the right to take all of your property, but I say that you will be able to leave my kingdom in safety."

 

  Halfdan spat, "Never!" and charged.

 

  The wizard had told Egil to touch the magic walrus-horn to all Halfdan's weapons, but Egil had only enchanted Halfdan's spear and sword, forgetting that a shield was a weapon too.

 

  Behind his round shield, Halfdan charged at Egil. Their shields collided with a huge impact. Egil fell back, with Halfdan on top of him, pushing him down to the snowy ground. Egil let go of his sword and shield, Halfdan let go of his shield, and they rolled back and forth on the snow, wrestling furiously. Halfdan grabbed the back of Egil's body-armour with one hand, trying to pull it up over Egil's head, and with his other, Halfdan tried to scrape his fingers across Egil's eyes.

 

  Both of their helmets had fallen off.

 

  "Run out of magic tricks?" Halfdan grunted.

 

  Egil grabbed at Halfdan's neck with strong fingers, trying to choke. Halfdan pushed his chin down, squeezing Egil's hands between Halfdan's chest and jawbone.

 

  They rolled wildly, to the cheers of the excited crowd, until Halfdan was under Egil, who was stronger. (The stabbing had forever weakened some of Halfdan's gut-muscles.) Halfdan ki
cked one of his legs out from under Egil's heavy bulk, wrapping it around Egil's hips. Halfdan twisted himself flat on his back under Egil, managing to wrap his other leg around him too. Both of Halfdan's legs were wrapped around Egil's hips; he locked his ankles together behind Egil's back, squeezing him in a tight ring of muscle and bone. Halfdan's hands were still trying to scratch out Egil's eyes. Then Halfdan changed tactics, trying to put his hands over Egil's mouth and nose to block his breath.

 

  Egil wriggled and threw ineffective punches at Halfdan's sides and head.

 

  Soon Egil was breathing hard, yanking his head from side to side to escape the breath-blocking hands. Egil's eyes were starting to bulge. He gripped Halfdan's neck again and tried, at the same time, to both choke Halfdan and hammer the back of his head onto the hard-packed snow.

 

  Halfdan closed his eyes and kept squeezing his legs around Egil's flabby middle.

 

  Egil pulled his hands from Halfdan's neck and pushed his left hand down onto one of Halfdan's forearms. Egil managed to pin Halfdan's right arm to the snow. Egil's free hand stormed punches down into Halfdan's face, pounding the thick lips, knocking out teeth.

 

  Halfdan spat out the bits of teeth and tried to block the punches with his own free hand.

 

  Drooling blood-pink spit, Egil said, "Die! Die!"

 

  "No, thank you," Halfdan grunted.

 

  Egil surprised Halfdan by smashing his forehead down to strike Halfdan's bloody mouth. Another of Halfdan's teeth was knocked out. Halfdan swallowed the jagged little chunk, wriggling on his back as he kept squeezing his legs around Egil's strong and twisting body.

 

  The squeezing made it hard for Egil to breathe; now he was gasping for air, red-faced. Egil tried to pull away. Halfdan managed to pull both his arms free and to wrap one around the back of Egil's neck, shoving the other arm up into the front of the foe's throat. Egil tried, more frantic now, to pull away, but could not -- Halfdan's arms ruled his neck and Halfdan's legs ruled the middle of Egil's body.

 

  Halfdan moved his mouth to the side of Egil's head and bit through Egil's sweaty yellow hair, his teeth finding the lobe of Egil's ear. Halfdan bit it off. Spat.

 

  Egil screamed, panicking, wriggling!

 

  Halfdan's arms and legs squeezed and squeezed.

 

  "I give up," Egil finally whispered.

 

  "I don't care."

 

  Halfdan squeezed Egil's neck and mid-section until Egil went limp. Halfdan rolled over, so that he was lying on top of Egil now. Egil was still, barely breathing.

 

  Halfdan grabbed Egil's beard and pulled it upwards, showing everybody Egil's pale throat.

 

  The crowd was roaring its approval, but Halfdan heard nothing.

 

  He closed his broken, jagged mouthful of teeth onto Egil's throat, biting hard into the flesh. Halfdan yanked back his head, pulling out a chunk of blood-dripping flesh, the dripping ends of veins and arteries dangling down his beard. Blood sprayed up from Egil's torn throat, fountaining into Halfdan's face, turning the nearby snow dark red, with steam rising in the cold air.

 

  Halfdan spat out the meat, lowered his mouth to the bloody mess of throat, filled his mouth with the flowing blood. He raised his head to the sky and gargled the mouthful of warm gore, then drank it.

 

  Drooling blood, Halfdan chanted a mocking-poem about Egil, roaring crude, cruel words up at the blank clouds.

 

  King Haakon announced that Halfdan had won the duel.

 

  Later, Solvi confessed to her father that she had been involved. For her punishment, one of her favourite silk dresses was taken away, and she was ordered to stay out of the hall.

 

  The suburban shack that was home to the wizard from Finland was attacked by an angry mob of Oslo-men. Thrand turned himself into a bat and tried to fly away, but somebody shot at the bat with an arrow, bringing the bat to the ground. Fatally hurt, the wizard changed back to the shape of a man. Before dying, he confessed to using his outlandish magic against Halfdan -- and to many other crimes. Oslo was a better place without that nasty wizard, everybody agreed.

 

  Halfdan left Oslo in the spring, loaded with silver and fame.

  33: SAGA'S END

 

  A few years later, unlucky King Atli fell head-first into a barrel of Yule-mead and drunkenly drowned. His end inspired many poems.

 

  A good king.

 

  Halfdan was elected the next king of Sogn and Fjordane.

 

  He ruled peacefully and justly for many years, and was beloved by all.

 

  A great king!

 

  This is how folk say that King Halfdan met his end: as an old man, during a forest-walk with his family near the sacred waterfall, he tripped on a tree-root and struck his head on a sharp rock. He stood -- his skull broken, globs of brains dribbling down his face -- and he sang a now-famous poem:

 

  I've walked from place to place

 

  With my art of poetry

 

  Describing my heart's dreams

 

  Pouring words for all to drink

 

  The lovely bird of life

 

  Flew in through a window

 

  Flapped, bright-feathered, through my hall

 

  Then out another window

 

  Everywhere, folk wonder

 

  What is death? What is life?

 

  Life is a light burden

 

  And death weighs even less

 

  When he finished the still-famous poem, King Halfdan fell.

 

  King Halfdan's body rests, even to this day, on the deck of a war-ship inside a burial-mound near Eid. It is blanketed by thick snow in winter, every summer sprouting wildflowers.

 

  Though still a very young man, Harald the Messy-Haired was elected the next king of Sogn and Fjordane. King Harald and his well-led fighters soon forced the king of Førde into exile and took over his lands.

  Over the following years, King Harald conquered Norse kingdom after Norse kingdom, from Hålogaland in the north to Oslo in the south, until he ruled all Norway. Never before had there been a unified kingdom of Norway with a single king. King Harald ended the tradition of king-elections; his oldest son Erik inherited his rule. Rule of Norway has passed from fathers to oldest sons ever since.

  Every king of Norway, even to this day, has been a direct descendant of Halfdan the Black and Yngvild of Starheim.

 

  So ends this saga.

  ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

  Copyright 2010 Mark Coakley -- Free Sample Copy for Non-Commercial Use

  www.scribd.com/MarkCoakley

  markcoakleybellnet

 

/>