‘And who would that be, then?’ Karl shouted back. ‘All I can see is an ancient hill-troll with his helmet.’
Helga noticed Runa, a couple of yards ahead of them in the line, grinning.
‘Always was a sharp tongue on that boy,’ Hildigunnur muttered.
As the families made their way past the gate, Einar ushered them over the logs that had been set out so they could all sit and watch the contestants. Helga placed her sack at her feet, next to her mother’s. Hildigunnur had spent the best part of the morning cooking, and the sacks were heavy with roasted meat, fire-baked sweetroot and skins of mead.
‘Listen up,’ Unnthor’s voice boomed. ‘Throw, then stones. Targets, then the run. I am the final arbiter, but Jaki has promised to make sure I don’t cheat.’
‘As if,’ Bjorn said, then, ‘And who watches him?’
‘I do,’ Hildigunnur said. ‘I watch all of you.’
Bjorn shrugged. ‘Fine. Let’s get to it!’
*
The siblings closed in on the throwing triangle like thunderclouds over a sailor’s head, followed by Sigmar and Unnthor.
‘Time for throw,’ Unnthor announced.
‘Who goes first?’ Karl asked.
‘Guests?’ Unnthor said, smiling.
‘Sure. I’ll go.’ Sigmar bent down to the pile of stones. Hefting the top one, he weighed it in his hand, moving his elbow experimentally, getting the weight of the stone, spreading his fingers as wide as he could. Then, without warning, he took three quick steps to the point of the triangle and launched the stone.
It flew through the air – and landed just past the midway point.
Sigmar spun away, his neck muscles taut, and barked a quick curse in the language of the Svear.
‘What’s the matter, East-man?’ Bjorn said. ‘Not as easy as you thought?’
Sigmar turned back to the group. ‘No, it’s fine,’ he said, tight-lipped. ‘It’s just been a while since I did anything like this.’
‘Me too,’ Karl said, stepping up to the pile of stones. ‘But the difference between the two of us is’ – he picked up a stone, stepped to the throwing line and launched it through the air smoothly. It sailed comfortably past Sigmar’s stone and landed with a thud three feet away from the line – ‘I don’t bark like a little bitch.’ His grin was three parts delight and one part challenge.
Sigmar smiled earnestly. ‘Well done, Brother. It is clear that you are better than me at throwing things away.’
Karl’s brow furrowed. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ he said, scowling.
‘Get outta the way,’ Bjorn said, shouldering past him as Sigmar smiled and shrugged. ‘My turn.’
Reaching down, Bjorn palmed the nearest stone and threw it without preamble. ‘Shit,’ he muttered. The boulder flew a good six feet past the line.
‘Troll-baby,’ Jorunn mocked.
‘Shut up,’ Bjorn said. ‘Let’s see you do better.’
Jorunn smiled as she stepped up to the pile of stones. ‘You know I can’t match a man for half of his power, Brother dear,’ she said. Elbows out, she backed up until she had a good twenty-foot run-up to the throwing line. ‘So I have to rely on’ – she rose up onto the balls of her feet, dipped, then pushed off hard, running to the line, swinging the stone up, letting it fall in her hands in a furious arc, then at the very last moment controlling the path, inching it upwards and releasing at the exact point when she hit the throwing line – ‘speed!’ she screamed after the flying stone.
Helga glanced at Gytha, who was watching her Aunt Jorunn with undisguised awe. The young girl’s hands were tightly clenched as she watched the stone fly towards the mid-line – past the mid-line – towards Karl’s stone . . . and drop to the ground just a few inches away from it.
A collective ‘oooh!’ was drawn from the audience. Karl looked like he’d eaten a wasp.
Jorunn turned and smiled at her oldest brother. ‘Not quite as far as you. I might need to try next time.’
Unnthor’s stone was already airborne. It fell with a thunk a foot short of Karl’s. Moments later Aslak launched his stone, which didn’t even reach the mid-line.
‘Karl wins,’ Jaki shouted.
‘Look at him,’ Hildigunnur muttered by Helga’s side.
‘What, Mother?’
‘He grins – but there is no joy in him, only darkness.’ But an instant later the old woman’s face had reverted to her normal neutral expression and she stared impassively at the action. Helga wondered if she’d imagined the look and the comment.
‘What’s next,’ Bjorn said, ‘stones?’
‘No – targets,’ Jaki said. ‘Hand-axes first: Sigmar, then Bjorn, Aslak, Unnthor, Jorunn and Karl.’
Sigmar stepped up and hefted the hand-axe. He looked critically at the wrapped handle and turned to Jaki. ‘Do you have another bit of leather?’ he said. Without a word, the old man pulled up his sleeve and unravelled a long leather strap. Sigmar took it without comment and wrapped it with practised movements around the handle, weighing the axe as he went. When he was satisfied, he looked up. The target was a wooden board thirty feet away. A circle had been painted on it with an x in the middle. His arm stretched back, then whipped forward.
The axe flew, spinning in the air, and buried itself in the plank with a dull thwack.
Jaki whistled. ‘Gonna be hard to improve on that one,’ he said as Einar ran back with the axe. The mark in the plank was about a finger’s width away from the centre.
‘Not bad, Swede,’ Bjorn said. ‘Not bad.’ He took the proffered axe and frowned. ‘Never been much for throwing axes,’ he said.
His throw immediately and firmly supported the statement. The axe clattered hard but sideways against the board, falling harmlessly to the ground. Wincing, Aslak threw the axe half-heartedly at the board. It stuck, but far to the side. Unnthor’s effort hit the mark a palm’s width away from the centre.
‘No luck, old man,’ Karl said.
‘I’ve never trusted in luck,’ Unnthor said. ‘The gods guide the axes where they wish. All you can do is throw.’ Standing next to him, Jorunn watched intently as Einar retrieved and handed her the axe.
‘You’re never lucky because you never chance it, old man,’ Karl said. Without pause, Jorunn whipped her arm back and launched the weapon. ‘Sometimes you have to—’
The axe hit the board with a sharp, short thwack and the brothers fell silent. Jorunn glanced at Sigmar, who looked back at her and did not drop his gaze.
Einar and Jaki approached the target and stared at it for a moment. Then they whispered among themselves.
‘Just a hair separates them – but Sigmar is closer,’ Jaki shouted.
Karl barked a laugh. Jorunn’s lip curled in anger, but her husband didn’t show any kind of reaction.
By the logs, Hildigunnur leaned in again. ‘And what do you make of that one?’ she whispered, eyes on Sigmar.
‘He doesn’t give much away,’ Helga said, ‘but . . . his fists were all balled up when Jorunn threw, and now he’s relaxed.’
‘Which might mean?’ Hildigunnur said, adding quickly, ‘Remember: don’t stare.’
Helga relaxed into it and looked better, like her mother had taught her, keeping her face relaxed. She was aware of Hildigunnur only as a sound by her ear. ‘He’s – he wants to win, quite badly, but doesn’t show it. And I think he likes Jorunn, a lot.’
‘Why do you say that?’ Hildigunnur said. There was a hint of a smile in her voice.
‘The way he looks at her, for a start,’ Helga said. ‘And I think he wants to impress her. Especially with the boys around.’
‘Not bad,’ the old woman said. ‘Not bad at all.’
Helga beamed as Karl stepped up and cried, ‘My turn!’ He spread his arms and rolled his shoulders. ‘Give it here,’ he said to Einar as he arrived wi
th the axe, then he glanced at Jorunn. ‘This is how it’s done, little sister.’ The axe-blade caught the sun as he raised it, up and back, far behind his head, limbering up the shoulder before he launched—
—and the haft of the axe bashed into the target. The weapon fell harmlessly to the ground.
‘Sigmar wins,’ Jaki said emotionlessly.
‘That is horseshit!’ Karl snapped, red-faced. ‘He tampered with the fucking handle!’ Spinning, he was in Unnthor’s face. ‘That’s cheating! Where’s the fucking honour? Is this what being a chieftain is about, huh?’
‘Calm down, Karl,’ Bjorn said.
‘DON’T YOU TELL ME TO CALM DOWN!’ Karl shouted. He rounded on Sigmar. ‘Think you’re so fucking clever, eh, Swede?’
A blink of an eye, no distance between the men.
Karl pushed Sigmar in the chest, hard. ‘Think you’re going to fucking cheat? Here, at Riverside?’ Thick arms pushed in under Karl’s armpits and Bjorn and Unnthor lifted him off his feet, locking his arms in place, grunting with the effort. Karl flailed and kicked at his target, connecting just as his father and brother dragged him off.
Sigmar’s eyes flashed, but he held back as Karl shouted again, ‘Fucking cheat!’
‘Easy now,’ Unnthor said, voice low. ‘Easy. There was no cheating. You won the first one. You’re still in the lead. You just have to share it.’
Suspended in midair, Karl flailed for a moment longer, then hung still. ‘Fuck you all. Let me down.’
Bjorn made to speak, but a vicious glare from his father shut him up. ‘Are you going to be fit for company?’ Unnthor asked.
‘Yes,’ Karl said between clenched teeth.
‘Did Sigmar cheat?’
No answer.
Helga caught the slightest adjustment in Unnthor’s stance. Pain blossomed on Karl’s face as his father’s knuckles dug into his ribs.
‘—no,’ he hissed.
‘Good. We’re going to put you down now. If you act up, I’ll knock you on your arse. Understood?’
‘Yes.’ The sound was closer to a growl. Karl dropped to the ground and staggered forward, glaring at Sigmar. Although the Swede was shorter and altogether less imposing, he stood his ground.
‘Good throw, Brother,’ he snarled.
Sigmar looked at him. ‘Thank you.’
‘Spears,’ Jaki said, clearly reluctant to hand over weapons to anyone. ‘Are we going for spears?’
‘Yes,’ Unnthor said firmly, ‘we are.’
Karl didn’t speak but stared at the target for a moment, then held out his hand without so much as glancing at Jaki. The spear was short, only two-thirds the length of a man, made for throwing rather than line-fighting. When it landed in his hand Karl weighed it up, mouth set. Then he took time to look first at his father, then Bjorn, then Sigmar.
Five steps back.
He gritted his teeth, took a couple of fast steps as he twisted his body and then—
The release was silent.
The flight was silent.
The first sound was the splintering of wood as the missile smashed into the target, sending it spinning, and shattered to the ground. Helga watched as Karl turned to Unnthor. Something passed between them, but no one on the logs could hear.
As quickly as it had begun, the spear-throwing was over – Karl had smashed the target to bits.
An eye-blink – and then Bjorn had stepped between them. ‘Karl clearly wins this round,’ the giant exclaimed. ‘Applause!’
The spectators clapped in confusion. Helga glanced at her mother, but the old woman’s eyes were elsewhere. Following her line of sight, Helga couldn’t help but see that Runa looked particularly delighted.
Jaki hurried to fetch the bow and arrows, and Unnthor won, but only by a hair – much to everyone’s surprise, Aslak’s arrow was only a knuckle away.
‘Right: it’s time for stones!’ Jaki said, louder than he had to. ‘You all know the rules: every stone has to touch the top of the pillar. Quickest to all three wins.’
‘Come on, you grouchy old bastard,’ Bjorn said, putting a huge arm around Karl and shifting him towards the wooden pillars.
‘I’ll sit this out,’ Jorunn said.
‘Don’t be so boring, Sister,’ Bjorn said. ‘Give it a try!’
‘Bjorn,’ Jorunn replied patiently, ‘the ability to think fast, solve complicated problems and make tough decisions is exactly opposite to the ability to lift heavy stones, and I happen to be very good at the former.’
The big blond man stared at her for a moment. ‘Are you saying—?’
‘—you’re big and stupid, and go play with your stones, troll-baby,’ Jorunn finished for him.
‘If you will,’ Bjorn said, bending low in a mockery of a bow, ‘—your Highness.’
‘I won’t take part either,’ Sigmar said.
‘Why not?’ Unnthor said.
‘Bad back,’ Sigmar said. ‘Have to be very careful around heavy things.’ Karl looked like he just caught some words before they came out of his mouth, but his smirk spoke volumes.
Beside him, Aslak winced. ‘Me too. Elbow, in fact.’
Jaki started up, nervously. ‘Karl, if you would—’
‘Right,’ Karl said, ‘I finished last’ – bending at the knee, he growled – ‘so I go first.’ He grasped the first stone, growled low and hefted it up on the pillar. ‘ONE!’ he shouted and let go, pushing so the boulder fell clear of the wood. On to the next one. Karl fumbled to find the grip. Arms spread wide, he started straining – and the stone went up, but no further than his thigh. His face went red as he stood, squatting, the boulder on his leg, digging into the muscle. A roar – and up it went. ‘TWO!’ he screamed, and pushed away with another roar, punching himself across the chest, and stormed towards the third and last one.
He launched himself at it. Throwing his arms around the rock, he squeezed, raised it three inches off the ground – and then dropped it, spinning away and screaming in frustration, fists clenched by his sides, veins pulsing in his neck.
When he was sure Karl had screamed his fill, Jaki spoke carefully. ‘Two.’
‘My turn?’ Bjorn asked calmly.
Jaki glanced at Karl, who was still facing away from the stones. ‘Yes.’
Bjorn approached the first stone and lifted it like it weighed nothing. ‘One,’ he said, then put it gently down again. Moving on to the next, he looked at it for a while, then glanced at his father and grinned. ‘Sneaky old bastard,’ he said. Bending down all the way to the ground, he squeezed a thick hand under the stone and rotated it just a tad. Then came the hold – and up it went. ‘Two,’ he said, dropping the stone carelessly on the other side. When he approached the third stone, he slowed down. A big, round thing, it looked as if it took up less space than the second stone, but Bjorn stopped in front of it, and this time, the look he shot his father was not as amused. The big blond man drew a deep breath, smacked his palms together and wrapped his arms around the boulder. Massive muscles strained in his back and shoulders.
The boulder rose: two inches, then four, then six. Bjorn firmly pushed air out through his pursed lips until he got the thing balanced on his thighs, then leaning back into the squat, he adjusted the hold and drew a deeper breath. With the rise of the stone, the heart rose in Helga’s throat. A deep roar started somewhere at Bjorn’s core as his back slowly straightened. ‘THREEEEEEE!’ he growled as the boulder climbed, torturously slowly, up to the pillar, and just as slowly, the edge of the massive rock edged onto the flat of the wooden stake. The moment it was up, Bjorn let go and leaped back with surprising nimbleness for such a big man. The stone fell to the ground with a thump.
Karl stared at his brother.
Bjorn looked at his father, breathing hard. ‘Right, old man. Your turn.’
Unnthor glanced over at Jaki, who nodded.
‘One.’
The second stone soon followed the first.
‘Two.’
When Unnthor came to the third stone, he glanced at Bjorn. ‘You are very strong, Son. Always have been.’ The old man adjusted and tightened his belt. Then he bent down and ran his fingertips along the stone’s surface – and pushed.
‘What are you doing?’ Bjorn demanded. ‘You’re going the wrong way – you can’t carry it to the pillar—’
‘You son of a—’ Karl muttered.
Unnthor glanced at his sons and grinned. ‘But you’re neither thoughtful nor deliberate, and both of you would choose the hard way’ – satisfied, the old man stood up. Then he planted a boot on the pillar and pushed with all his weight. The wood gave, the pillar toppled and the top touched the stone – ‘when the easy way is right in front of you.’
‘Hah!’ Jorunn’s laugh was clear and sharp. ‘Father wins!’
‘Oh come ON,’ Bjorn said, ‘that’s so unfair!’
‘Brains wins over brawn, son,’ Unnthor said. ‘Although I’m mighty impressed that you managed that third one. He was an absolute beast.’
‘How—?’ Karl began.
‘Found it in the field and rolled it up onto the cart,’ Unnthor said. ‘I’m not going to lift that bastard.’ Behind him, Sigmar smirked.
‘Footrace,’ Jaki shouted.
‘I’m in for this one,’ Jorunn said quickly.
‘Me too,’ Aslak said.
‘I’m out,’ Unnthor said, glancing at Bjorn. ‘Those stones really took it out of me.’
Kin (Helga Finnsdottir) Page 7
