Odin's Game

by Tim Hodkinson

  ‘Look at that rooster, Audun,’ Bersi said. ‘He must have spent all Dísablót combing that hair.’

  ‘His bat looks impressive,’ Gunnar said. ‘I’ll give him that.’

  As if he had heard Gunnar’s words, Audun swiped a few practice shots with his bat. It had a broad face for hitting the ball and looked like it was carved from a solid piece of wood as long as Audun’s arm. It was polished to the point of shining, even in the dull light of the morning. Intricate carved images of beasts twisted and curled around the handle.

  ‘I bet he didn’t make that himself,’ Einar commented, looking down at his own rather sorry-looking old bat that he had played with for the last three seasons. It was battered, nicked and the wood starting to go white in places. If he could afford some whale blubber he would have to oil it or it would not last the season.

  ‘His daddy probably paid a craftsman to make it for him,’ Bersi spat on the ice. ‘Or he bought it off some merchant from Norway.’

  Einar winced at the mention of merchants, his mind’s eye flitting to the cold, broken corpse lying to the north in the bottom of the ravine. He said nothing. The night before, Hrapp had commanded him not to speak of what happened to anyone. He had pointed out that as the one who brought the merchant to his place of execution he was as implicated in what happened as the men who had pushed him to his death. Then he had been sent home. He told his mother, of course. Einar had been taken aback by what looked very much like delight Unn had shown at the news of the death of Asmundarsson, a deed they had both played a part in. When he told her that nevertheless the merchant had perhaps sent word by another to Norway she had looked worried again.

  The rest of the Midfjord team cast rueful glances at their own rough, hand-hewn playing bats. Seeing this Gunnar spoke up.

  ‘It’s not the bat that matters,’ he said in a loud voice. ‘It’s the man who wields it who wins the game. This bunch are nothing, lads. We can beat them with one hand tied behind our backs.’

  ‘Audun!’ Hallgerd called out and the handsome young Goði’s son waved to the gaggle of Midfjord girls, a wry smile on his face, his gesture sending them into fits of giggles.

  Einar heard a crunching noise and realised it was Bersi grinding his teeth beside him.

  ‘Look at that!’ Bersi growled. ‘The rich boy waves his hand and they all but spread their legs!’

  ‘Hey Einar,’ Thord said with a wink. ‘I hear the Goði Hrapp has been calling at your mother’s farm since he’s become a widower. Audun could be your new stepbrother.’

  Einar growled, hefted his bat and made a convincing enough feint towards Thord that the other man flinched away.

  ‘Lads,’ Gunnar said. ‘Forget them. We’re here to win a game. To me!’

  They all gathered in a circle around their leader. ‘We’ve a great team this year,’ Gunnar began, looking around at those who surrounded him, meeting their expectant gazes with his own. ‘The best I’ve seen and I’m proud to say I’m part of it. Let’s remember this lot beat us last year. And they’ve not let us forget it all year. Now it’s time to get our own back. If you’re worried about that lot,’ he cocked his head dismissively in the direction of their opposition, ‘with their fancy gear coming here and walking about like they own the place, then let me tell you this: the best thing you can do is send them home after a good thrashing. If we beat them today their ale will taste sour tonight no matter how much of it they drink and ours will taste all the sweeter. Now are you with me?’

  ‘Aye!’ The team spoke as one.

  ‘Hegg and Vestein, you two guard our goal rock. Don’t let any of them get close. Don’t be afraid to use your shoulders. Bersi, we need you up front. The rest of you take the middle of the pitch. Einar? I want you to mark Audun,’ Gunnar said.

  ‘I want the rich boy!’ Bersi protested.

  Gunnar shook his head. ‘Audun is fast but Einar is tall. We need him to use that height to stop Audun getting the ball. Einar, you stick to him like a barnacle. Don’t let him get away from you.’

  Einar felt his chest swell with pride at being given such a key job. His throat was tight with excitement so he nodded his assent, unsure whether, if he opened his mouth, any noise would come out.

  Gunnar rotated so his bright eyes glared directly into every single member of his team’s, one after another. Each young man felt a surge of fire in their bellies.

  ‘Who are we?’ Gunnar barked.

  ‘Midfjord!’ the lads all shouted in unison.

  ‘Now let’s show them what we can do,’ Gunnar said.

  The team slid onto the ice, fanning out to take their positions. Each one had wooden pattens strapped to their feet. The flat of the sole was smooth to allow gliding while the tips were covered by tar and stones and used for quick stops and turns.

  Einar took a couple of deep breaths, trying to control the pounding of his heart. For him, these last few moments before the start of a game were his least favourite. The mixture of tension and excitement were at an almost unbearable height. All he wanted to do was get going but all they could do was wait. Every muscle in his body screamed to run, charge, to smash into an opponent but he was not allowed to. Not yet.

  He took a final look around. On the far side of the pitch he spotted the Goði, Hrapp. He was wrapped in a bear skin, his white hair and beard cascading from under a fur cap to flow around his chest and shoulders. Hrapp was rich and owned much land but it was said he was always greedy for more. Einar’s mother was convinced he was after her farm and as Hrapp was here Einar was glad that she had not come to watch the game. She never did. She said she could not bear to watch in case he got hurt.

  He looked up at the steel-grey sky above. His eyes sought some sign, an omen of good luck for the game. The sky was empty, except for a pair of ragged old crows. He followed their flight as they swooped down, their feathers ruffling in the wind like tattered black cloaks, to settle on the coarse, frost-stiffened grass a little behind Hrapp where they began pecking at the earth near the feet of a tall man in a long grey cloak. Einar narrowed his eyes. He was not sure if recognised this stranger. He wore a wide-brimmed hat that cast his eyes in shadow but somehow Einar felt that he was watching him.

  Then came the sound of the horn blowing. The game was about to start.

  Eight

  The two teams met in the centre of the pitch. They formed two opposing semicircles while their captains slid into the middle. Skapti the district Law Speaker and Goði Hrapp met them there.

  ‘Good luck, lads. May the best side win,’ Hrapp announced loudly. Then he winked at his son, Audun. ‘And we all know which one that is, eh?’ he added out of the side of his mouth.

  ‘Come on lads,’ Audun said over his shoulder to his team mates. ‘Let’s wipe the floor with these goat fuckers like we did last year. It shouldn’t be hard.’

  Hrapp nodded to the Law Speaker. Skapti raised the horn to his lips and let out a loud blast. The chieftain tossed the hard wooden ball high into the air and the game was on.

  Gunnar and Audun went up against each other for the ball. Both men leapt as high as they could. They were fully stretched, right arms reaching to snatch the falling ball, their hands at the same height. Either of them might get it.

  Then Gunnar swiped his bat. The long handle out-reached his opponent and there was a sharp crack as the face of the bat hit the hard wooden ball. The ball shot downward, smacking into the ice then skittering across it in the direction of the Midfjord team’s half of the pitch. A cheer rose from the local supporters.

  Einar and the rest of the team scrambled to get to their positions. He just avoided colliding with the Flokisson brothers, Hegg and Vestein, as they rushed back to guard the goal. Bersi had already gathered up the ball. The Midfjord team was on the attack.

  Crouched forward, Bersi advanced, pushing the ball along the ice before him with his bat. Gunnar darted ahead up the middle of the pitch, weaving through the Vididal defenders. Two of them spotted him and straight away turn
ed to mark him. Einar realised with two men on Gunnar it would leave his team with one man free. He charged as fast as he could down the far right of the pitch, mirroring Bersi’s advance on the left. As he went he waved his free hand in Gunnar’s direction, hoping to catch his team leader’s attention without alerting the Vididal defenders.

  A few paces past the halfway mark, a defender closed on Bersi. Bersi glanced up, scooped the ball up off the ice with the bowl of his stick and flicked it into the air. Still moving, he followed through with a tremendous smash from the bat. The ball shot through the air, passing high over the defender’s head to fall back to the ice almost at Gunnar’s feet. It was a perfectly judged pass, but Einar felt his heart sink. The two defenders were onto Gunnar already and he would be able to do nothing with it.

  The instant the ball touched the ice Gunnar flicked his bat, sending it onwards towards Einar. Gunnar was not even looking at him so Einar was taken by surprise, as was everyone else. He quickly recovered and skated forward to meet the ball skittering over the ice towards him. He stopped its sideways trajectory with his bat then surged forward, shepherding the ball before him. Einar could not believe his luck. There was no one around him and he had a clear run to the Vididal goal. He chanced a look ahead and saw the look of surprise on the faces of the two Vididal lads guarding the goal.

  The ice shot past beneath his shoes as he flew towards the goal. He was almost close enough to take a shot. Einar raised his bat, allowing the ball to run freely before he struck it.

  Einar felt as if his left foot had stopped dead, somehow stuck to the ice. He was already mid-shot and immediately lost his balance. Instead of smacking dead centre the head of the bat hit the top right of the ball and his shot sliced left. The two lads guarding the goal sprang to stop it but it was already wide of the target. As Einar spun his arms to regain balance the ball skipped across the ice a mere cat’s whisker to the left of the goal.

  The home supporters in the crowd groaned in unison. A blast from the horn sounded and Einar heard raised voices among the spectators.

  ‘Watch that stick, Audun Hrappsson,’ Skapti called out. ‘This is a warning.’

  ‘It was accidental!’ Goði Hrapp shouted.

  Skapti shook his head. Audun skated by Einar, brushing past his right shoulder. He swept in an arc around him then turned and came back, approaching Einar but now with his back to the Law Speaker. As he passed by he patted the shaft of his bat, a provoking smile on his face. Einar realised now what had snagged his leg and made him miss.

  ‘Arsehole,’ Audun muttered as he skated off.

  Einar glanced towards Gunnar and saw he was shaking his head. The sight of his captain’s disappointment was almost harder to bear than Audun’s cheating.

  The Vididal team now had the ball. One of their goal warders scooped it up and smacked it up the pitch, sending it sailing high over Einar’s head. The Midfjord team scrambled to re-organise and turn attack to defence. Einar pumped his legs, following Audun as Gunnar had instructed. His chest burned with the sudden exertion and he could feel sweat running down his face. The heavy leather trousers and fur jacket he wore felt like there was a fire burning inside them but he knew he would be glad of their thick padding if he hit the ice.

  One of the Vididal players caught the ball in the bowl of his bat while it was still the air. He surged forward, breaking away from the Midfjord defender beside him. Einar kept his attention on Audun who was racing after the team mate with the ball. As he got closer, Audun lithely switched direction, sliding to the right and going behind a defender from Einar’s team, whose attention was focused on the man with the ball. Audun shot ahead, overtaking his own player, shouting to him as he went by. Einar saw there was now no one between Audun and the Midfjord goal apart from Hegg and Vestein the goal guards. Audun’s team mate spotted this and flicked the ball forwards across the ice. Audun, without stopping, collected it with his bat and began pushing it before him towards the goal.

  Einar put his head down and powered after him. Gunnar had told him to mark him and he could not let him score. He powered over the ice and soon he was within touching distance of the Vididal captain. Audun was looking forwards, starting to judge the right spot to target to defeat the goal keepers.

  Einar reached out with his stick for the ball, arms outstretched and bending forwards as far as he could without falling. He was still just behind Audun and could not quite reach the ball but the distance to the goal was narrowing rapidly. All he had to do was get in the way long enough so Audun would be unable to take his shot before he ran out of pitch.

  Audun caught sight of Einar’s stick and shot a glance to see who was behind him. He looked back at the goal. Einar shoved his stick forward at the ball again, careful to connect with Audun’s stick and not his legs. Hitting the player would result in a penalty against him. Wood cracked as the bats collided, smacking off each other as they both fought to control the ball. Einar looked up and saw that it was too late for Audun to shoot now and felt a rush of satisfaction. He had done his job.

  At that moment Audun cried out. He stumbled, sprawling forwards onto the ice, his stick flying away from him as he landed. Einar, a wry smile on his face at Audun’s misfortune, slid forwards and collected the ball at his leisure. He passed it back to the goal keepers then turned around.

  By now Audun was sitting up. He had both hands raised and glared in the direction of the Skapti the Law Speaker.

  ‘Oh come on!?’ he shouted. He seemed to be making some sort of appeal.

  Skapti the Law Speaker let out a blast on his horn and play stopped. Audun’s father, Hrapp, stomped towards him.

  ‘That was a deliberate trip!’ Goði Hrapp thundered. ‘Everyone saw it. You were quick to accuse my son so what are you going to do now?’

  Skapti frowned. ‘I could not see what was going on. The big lad was in the way.’

  ‘The big lad used his stick to trip my son,’ Hrapp said. ‘He knew Audun was going to score so he deliberately brought him down.’

  ‘What?’ Einar was astonished. ‘My stick never went near him. He fell over.’

  Skapti looked at him for a moment, then at Hrapp. Then he seemed to make up his mind.

  ‘Einar Kjartinsson,’ he said in a loud voice, raising his forefinger to point at him. ‘Audun may or may not have tripped you before but it’s up to me to referee this game not you. I won’t have players taking matters into their own hands and trying to get their own back. Free hit to Vididal.’

  The Midfjord team and supporters let out another collective groan. Einar was incredulous.

  ‘What?’ he shouted. ‘Audun fell! I had nothing to do with it!’

  Skapti shot a stern glare at him. ‘Perhaps you want me to put you out of the game as well?’ he said.

  Einar let out a heavy sigh. His shoulders sagged. ‘No,’ he said.

  Skapti nodded. He raised his horn and signalled the game was on again.

  The disgruntled Midfjord players lined up along the edge of the pitch, their breaths and sweat causing steam to cloud the cold air while Audun prepared to take his free shot at goal. As there was only one goal defender allowed for a penalty, Hegg joined his team mates leaving Vestein alone to try to stop the shot.

  ‘What in the Gods’ names are you playing at?’ Gunnar demanded.

  ‘He’s cheating!’ Einar protested, arm outstretched towards Audun who was placing the ball on the ice about fifteen paces out from the goal. ‘He deliberately fell. My stick didn’t touch him. And before when I had a shot at goal, it was him who tripped me.’

  ‘He’s playing you like my uncle plays his fidla,’ Bersi commented. Audun frowned. Bersi’s uncle was famous as one of the best players of that musical instrument in Iceland.

  ‘Perhaps Thord should mark Audun,’ Gunnar wondered aloud.

  ‘No!’ Einar voice rose in pitch. ‘Give me one more chance. I won’t let him do that to me another time.’

  Gunnar thought for a moment, then nodded. ‘All right.
But if he gets round you again I’m switching you for Thord.’

  A hush descended on players and crowd and Audun prepared to take his free shot. He stood, legs shoulder width apart, side on to the goal, bat hovering behind the ball, looking now up at the goal, now down at the ball again. Vestein was half crouched, stick in both hands, legs wide apart so he was ready to dive in either direction. His face was a mask of anxiety. Knowing how hard the ball was, and how fast it moved when struck, Einar did not envy his red-headed team mate whose job it was to put himself between it and the goal.

  Audun drew his bat back in a sharp movement, glancing to his left as he did so. Catching his look, Vestein leapt in that direction, sprawling sideways onto the ice so his body would block the path of the ball. The moment he sprang, however, Audun checked his swing. He changed stance a half-step then completed his swing. There was the crack of wood as the bat hit the ball and Audun chipped it to the right instead. Vestein was left lying in the wrong direction as the ball skittered across the ice and smacked into the goal stone with a resounding clack.

  With the cheers of the Vididal supporters ringing round them, both teams returned to the centre of the pitch to restart the game. The horn sounded and the game was on again. Play flowed up and down the pitch as first Midfjord, then Vididal attacked, lost the ball and switched to defence. Neither side managed to score. This continued for some time. Einar stuck to Audun like his life depended on it, following the Vididal captain around like they were tied together with a rope. Audun began to show signs of irritation at this, something which Einar took pleasure from.

  A Vididal player hooked the ball in Audun’s direction, just past the halfway mark. Audun went to collect it but being so close to him, Einar powered forwards, getting in front of the Vididal captain and collecting the ball before he had the chance. Einar whacked it back, sending it flying across the ice towards Bersi.