End of the Road (20 page)

Valdimar wanted to settle it with as little
bloodshed as possible and had talked with both families. He was
posing his idea to Olaf.

“
So what’s your plan then?”
he asked.

“
Holmgang. It seems to be
the only solution. They both have a great hatred for each
other.”

Olaf looked dubious.

“
Arnulf is by far the more
experienced fighter. It seems a bit unbalanced,” said
Olaf.

“
I have a plan to even the
odds a bit,” said Valdimar. They talked for a while longer and
while Olaf thought his strategy unusual, he admitted it would be
fair. He agreed to share the idea with Hradi and no one else before
the day of the holmgang.

“
A week from today we’ll
have it. I’ll arrange for the preparations,” said
Valdimar.

“
It should be bloody . . .
and brief,” said Olaf.

The week passed quickly. Valdimar, Blind Dog
and Broddi had imbedded a post on a level bit of ground near the
beach during the week. The post was about a foot in diameter. Five
smaller logs had been cut to about a ten foot length and laid out
around the post forming a rough pentagon.

A crowd had gathered and at mid-day the two
combatants and their families appeared. Each was armed with his
favored weapon, shield and armor. Valdimar stepped to the post to
speak to the crowd. He carried an axe in his hand.

“
Here is the reason for,
and the rules of, this holmgang: Arnulf killed Hagni, Kolben’s
father. Both men and their families have agreed to abide by my
decision as to the settlement of this feud.

“
Both men will strip
themselves of weapons and armor, including shields.” A murmur ran
through the crowd at his words. He looked again at the crowd and
continued.

“
This axe will be the only
weapon allowed,” he held it aloft for all to see and then stuck it
into the post.

“
Since both men favor their
right hands for fighting, so their right hands will be bound
together with rawhide. They must stay within the bounds of the five
small logs. Being bound together, they will begin here,” he walked
to the farthest corner of the five boundary logs.

“
The first to secure the
axe and kill the other will be declared winner. Whoever wins, all
of Arnulf’s and Kolben’s goods will be given to Kolben’s
family.”

There was a gasp from the crowd and some of
the elders came forward to protest. Valdimar listened to their
words. When they were finished he spoke again.

“
This is not the
traditional duel, I know that. It is not for glory or to prove who
is right! Both these men told me they dearly wanted to kill the
other, that they would give all they had to do so, isn’t that
right?”

He looked at the two men waiting for an
answer. They glanced at each other briefly and eventually nodded
their heads.

“
And your families said
they would accept my ruling?” Again they agreed to this by a curt
nod of their heads.

“
Then this is it. Kolben’s
family was wronged by the death of his father. Arnulf was at fault.
Whoever wins, we all lose. Whoever wins, the property of both men
will go to Kolben’s family. Since the fighting skill of both men
varies with their weapon of choice, they will fight for, and with,
a single weapon, without a shield, without armor. The axe is razor
sharp; I honed it myself this morning.

“
If we are going to survive
as a tribe in this savage land, we have to stick together! We can’t
be fighting among ourselves! I urge all of you to keep your
religion to yourself or share it with people that believe as you.
Trouble no one about their beliefs. Is this really something you
want to die for?”

He looked at the crowd who now seemed
somewhat subdued. The scene was quiet, with only the sound of the
wind in the trees and the gentle lapping of the waves hitting the
shore.

“
Let it begin. Remove their
weapons and armor and bind their arms. May the gods you worship
give you strength,” he said. He walked into the crowd and stood by
his wife, Littlefoot.

The silence was deafening.

Once their wrists were
bound together they were left alone. Suddenly Kolben, who was a bit
larger than Arnulf
,
lunged toward the post. Arnulf grabbed his bound wrist with
his free hand and pulled hard against the bigger man’s
momentum.

Kolben dug in his feet and began dragging
Arnulf toward the post. Arnulf gave a quick tug at Kolben, making
him stumble. As he fought to continue dragging his opponent, he
exerted his leg muscles to the fullest. When Kolben’s right leg was
fully extended, Arnulf jerked again, causing him to pause
momentarily. In that short instant, Arnulf dug in his left foot
and, raising his right, gave a vicious kick to Kolben’s extended
leg. There was a loud snapping sound and a cry of pain from
Kolben.

As Kolben collapsed, Arnulf saw his chance
and began to run around him in the direction of the post. Kolben
grabbed his ankle and tripped him. The right arms of the combatants
were bleeding from the rawhide that was tied so tightly around
their arms. Arnulf rose slowly and began dragging Kolben toward the
pole. Kolben fought against him and struggled to stand on his left
leg.

Arnulf grabbed the axe and turned to face
his opponent. Just as he did, Kolben connected with a clenched fist
to his jaw. Arnulf fell, dropping the axe, and dragging Kolben down
with him. The axe now lay close to one of the boundary logs. Arnulf
began to rise and Kolben grabbed his head and forced his thumb into
the right eye socket of his rival. Arnulf screamed in pain and
tried to roll away from Kolben.

The two men grappled each other and rolled
on the ground, eventually getting close to the axe. Arnulf tried to
rise again to grab the axe and Kolben strained to drag him away
from it. Arnulf aimed a kick at Kolben’s head and connected,
stunning him for a moment. Arnulf grabbed the axe again and swung
it in an overhead arc at his adversary. He was rewarded with a
sickening ‘thwuck’ sound and a howl of pain from Kolben.

Rolling over he realized he had struck
Kolben in his left shoulder. Both men were breathing heavily now
and near exhaustion. Neither of them had any feeling in their bound
arms.

Arnulf crouched on his haunches and pulled
the axe free of the wound. He then pulled his and Kolben’s right
arms out straight and aimed a furious blow at Kolben’s right
arm.

Seeing what was coming, Kolben pulled back
hard with his arm as the axe fell. Arnulf heard the crunch of bone
and the tearing of flesh and his arm pulled free. He then stood and
buried the axe into Kolben’s grinning face.

The fight was over, Arnulf had won. The
crowd was silent. Blind Dog ran to Arnulf with a fire brand.

“
Wha . . . what are you
doing?” he asked feebly.

“
I’m burning your stump so
you won’t bleed to death when we remove the rawhide,” Blind Dog
said.

Arnulf looked down to see that in the
confusion of the melee, he had cut off his own arm. He swayed
momentarily and then passed out.

“
Arnulf is the winner,”
said Valdimar. “Hagni’s family has now lost two members and all the
property of Arnulf and Kolben will go to them.” He paused for a
moment looking at the crowd.

“
What have we gained from
this pointless killing? Our people have lost two men and another
has become impoverished, half blind and crippled.

“
Arnulf is safe from blood
vengeance or wergild, since he now has nothing, except his life.
Bury your man,” he said to Kolben’s family.

“
He was a good man who has
come to the end of his road, and will be missed when we once again
do battle with our enemies.”

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Chapter 20

Young Chef’s Regret

By David A. Cuban

A young man has to decide which career to
follow: chef or teacher. His judgment is clouded-on one hand-by his
sense of pride and his cockiness; on the other, by his loyalty and
desire to serve. The results of his choice could be disastrous.

As he reminisces on the choice he made, the
sudden death of his best friend forces him to scrutinize for the
very first time what his own life has become.

A clever study into the soul of a tortured
man who, by all appearances, has achieved a high degree of
success.

Journeys of the Mind

Oftentimes, it is hard for us to trace the
single thought that triggers a vivid emotion in our minds; one that
makes us think of an important event in our lives. This is not one
of those times. As I reread a cruel e-mail telling me that my best
friend Godwall had died of a heart attack in his sleep, I
immediately thought of much happier times for the two of us.

I am packing a light bag and heading for the
airport, passport in hand. I know that the hardest thing will be
looking at my best friend for the last time and wondering if the
rumours are true. My uncle Denis told me that Godwall took a fatal
[accidental] overdose of his heart pills.

Godwall was only two years older than me.
Together since elementary school, we had survived the army, bar
brawls, skydiving, boxing, motorcycling, numerous double dates and
a few other adventures I will perhaps share some other time. As I
scanned the best memory of him I had, this one popped straight into
my mind…

The summer of ‘79 was a great time for me…or
so I wanted to believe. I had turned 23 in May. By mid-June, I had
graduated from Teachers’ College and I was already relishing my
future adventures in the classroom. I was also seriously
considering becoming a chef.

We were serious foodies at home. I cannot
recall a day without three or four dinner guests, at least. Our
French and Spanish background and the emphasis my grandfather, my
father–as well as every other male member of our family–placed on
cooking, made it only natural that I wanted to receive formal
culinary instruction. Either way, the request I received from my
best friend’s sister in early July most definitely threatened to
foul up the rest of my holidays.

Godwall was a great guy. His whole family
loved me. That’s why when I was invited to a formal dinner–where
his sister’s future groom and in-laws were guests of honour–I took
it as yet another sign of their affection for me. Everyone knew I
loved cooking and dinner parties. Of course I would be there.

The News that Set the Room on Fire

The large dining-room was beautifully
decorated, as befitting the occasion. Godwall’s sister, Addys María
herself found a place at the table for me. –“Here, Dave. You sit
right here close to me” she said with a big smile, her right hand
discreetly squeezing one of mine. I sat down quietly. My mind was
racing like a wild horse. Was she all right? Had she made a pass at
me? Goodness! She’s almost family! Twenty minutes later, when
Godwall arrived, I was on my third glass of wine. It was not
helping though.

Godwall and Addys María’s parents had been
divorced for many years. Theirs had been a very acrimonious split.
Only something as important as Addys María’s wedding could get them
together under the same roof again. In addition to both parents,
their respective spouses had been invited. These four people had
been respectfully, yet strategically, seated around the longest
Arthurian table human eyes could ever see–other than in English
movies depicting mediaeval opulence. Naturally, Godwall and Addys’
five aunts were there along with their eight children.

Godwall, the family’s official “Ambassador
of Peace”, made the necessary introductions, carefully making sure
to allot everyone equal “air time” at every turn. The groom made a
toast. His parents also expressed their happiness. The groom’s
father stood up and said in a booming voice that scared the
children –“This blessed union will strengthen our families” then he
quickly sat down.

Slowly, almost
imperceptibly, the center of attention turned to the logistics of
the upcoming wedding itself. Both the bride and the groom wanted to
discuss the issue with the whole clan. While they were talking, I
continued to enjoy my
moros y
cristianos
, which I cleverly washed down
with a generous amount of strong Spanish ale. The amount of people
to attend, the number of ushers and tables, as well as a myriad of
other details were talked about at length.

Next came the issue of the
menu. A cacophony of voices rushed in to offer suggestions. Always
outspoken, Aunt María (after whom Addys María had been partially
named) expressed her humble opinion –“At
my
wedding, and a blessed event it
was, we served a traditional Spanish menu and that was that…my
Pablo…rest his soul…suggested the idea. I could…” Addys María took
control saying –“I want several courses, not just one. Yes, the
traditional
puerco asado
will be there…but we also want chicken and
seafood. We wanted to share that with you” she said looking at the
groom for moral support. The young man nodded in agreement. I
continued to listen very quietly, beer in hand. The small army of
aunts–almost in unison–pledged their time and expertise in
preparing all those dishes. Not surprisingly, Aunt María emerged as
the undisputed leader. Then, it happened! I heard Addys María’s
voice saying –“I appreciate everyone’s help! We
both
do! But, this is
my
wedding and I make the
final decisions.” The room went dead. Addys María charged on –“I
have an important announcement to make..” she said in a grave tone.
I leaned toward Godwall and whispered in his ear –“I hope she’s not
dumping this guy right here!’ Godwall started to giggle. Addys
María’s glare made us stop. Addys María regained the room –“I want
Dave to cook for us at the wedding”, she said in a calm, yet firm
voice; her right index pointing at me.