Ragnar the Just (Ragnar the Dane #3) (13 page)

Everyone had eaten well on roasted beef, tender pork, full-flavoured goat and salted
fish,
fresh bread flavoured with honey and chopped nuts, followed by baked apples, spiced pears and plums with honey and creamy sauce. The guests’ appetites were sated, and
they
turned to the drinks. As well as mead, they could choose beer or ale, and the noise in the room grew louder.

Lini watched the scene with detachment. People pushed and shoved on the dance floor and he could certainly hear some having sex among the dancers, like beasts in the fields. He looked round at his neighbours, who had turned out not to be friends. Which of them had vandalised his forge? Every one of them avoided his eyes, so there was no telling.

He saw Halldora sitting the other side of the room with Kori and Thora, and a man. He had reddish-blond hair and beard, and was laughing with the farmer next to him. Lini half hoped Kori and Thora hadn’t seen him but it was too late.

“Daddy!” shrieked Kori, and climbed off the bench. Halldora restrained him, muttering something and shooting a scornful look at Lini.

Kjartan noticed all this and rolled his eyes at Lini, his mouth an angry line.

“She can’t stop you seeing your children.”

“She can.” Lini sighed.

“What do you expect?” interrupted the fisherman the other side of him. “You left her for him.” He gestured at Kjartan. “You’re less than a man.”

Kjartan turned towards him aggressively so he retreated, but muttered something to his neighbour which made him guffaw as they tapped their drinking horns together.

“You two shouldn’t be sitting together,” said a harsh voice, and they turned away from the glaring fisherman. It was the Huskarl Styrkar who had
spoken,
his sandy blond hair straggly with sweat, his speech slurring.

“Why not?” said Kjartan. “We live together.”

His statement prompted a burst of sneering laughter from the nearest men.

Styrkar ignored him and grabbed Lini by the collar, pulling him up to face him.

“You’ll have to leave now, won’t you? Your work’s all gone.” He made a mock sympathetic face, his beer- saturated breath making the amber smith gag.

“I can start again,” said Lini through gritted teeth.

“
What with?
Your kiln’s all gone
and so is your glass.”

There was another burst of laughing from Styrkar’s cronies and other men. Kjartan leapt up, and was immediately set upon by one of these onlookers.

“We’ll see what the Jarl has to say about this,” said Lini, holding his nerve.

“He won’t care! His new drinking glasses are untouched, and that’s all he cares about!” Styrkar cackled, pushing the leaner man away roughly. He turned to his friends, still laughing, and they all went off to get more mead.

Lini flopped down in the chair. After nursing Dalla, Mildrith had fallen asleep with her, resting on the table, so he moved some plates and knives out of their way. Kjartan had got into a fist fight, but Lini knew he could handle it and Ragnar and Steinar were already heading towards the brawl, frowning.

Styrkar’s voice rang in his head. ‘His new drinking glasses are untouched.’ Styrkar had talked about those glasses when he came round to the forge. Lini’s mind was slowed by the alcoh
ol and the large meal, but ...
how did Styrkar know the glasses were untouched?
Unless ...

He looked round to see Styrkar and his gang staggering towards the door of the hall, singing drunkenly and laughing. His mind suddenly filled with the hot crimson of rage and he stood up to follow.

*
 
*
  *

Styrkar and fri
ends were just outside the hall
in a small open space between houses, still drinking, laughing and groping the girls they’d brought with them.

Lini marched into the middle of the group, grabbed Styrkar by the neck and pushed him against a house wall.

“You wrecked my forge,” he growled.

“Feeling horny,
ergi
?” spluttered Styrkar. His accomplices sniggered.
“Didn’t think I was your type.”

“You wrecked my forge!”

“Wasn’t me.”

“You took my spare keys and broke in and wrecked everything!”

Styrkar raised his eyebrows at two friends, who dragged Lini off. He struggled violently but wasn’t strong enough to fight both. They held
him
and Styrkar punched him in the
face, but he thrashed around and those restraining him were forced to hold his arms behind his back and pull his hair to keep his head still.

Styrkar’s friends gathered round, jeering and catcalling and other guests from the feast started assembling.

“Coward!” spat Lini, his cyan blue eyes flashing with ang
er. “Too scared to fight me one-to-
one? Your little friends have to help you, yes?”

Styrkar glared at him, then nodded to his friends, who let Lini go. He sprang towards the Huskarl, forgetting all caution, and grabbed him by the throat again.

“You’ve ruined my work!” he snarled.

Unfortunately, however
drunk
Styrkar was, he was used to fighting and Lini wasn’t. He broke the hold on his neck and pushed Lini backwards again. The lean amber smith fell on the ground, but the other men respected this fight and didn’t touch him. Styrkar grabbed him by the shoulders.

“You’re a disgrace to men!” he growled, his breath still stinking of beer. “
Sansorthinnr
don’t deserve respect!” He drew a knife from his belt and Lini’s eyes widened. But Styrkar grabbed his hair, which was tied back in a plain tail as usual and brought the knife to it.

“Styrkar, you can’t!” said his friend warningly.

But he cut through Lini’s hair, despite his struggles, and held the tail up like a prize.

“Now you are as low as a thrall!”

Lini was so shocked he just lay there, so Styrkar punched him.

*
 
*
  *

“Kjartan!
Come quickly! Lini’s in trouble!” A boy of thirteen, a former student of the training school, fought his way through the mass of drunken bodies in the feasting hall. The fight had been broken up by Ragnar and Steinar, who were still directing the participants away from each other.

Without pausing, Kjartan followed the boy out of the hall. He trusted his students.

*
 
*
  *

Outside, Lini’s mouth was bleeding now, but he was determined not to show it hurt.

“Can’t take much more, can you,
ergi
?” sneered Styrkar, smashing him against the side of the hut. The watching men’s faces were full of excitement at the spilling of blood. They clutched each other, jeering and gasping at each blow.

“You’re not worth my time,” continued the broad Huskarl, throwing Lini to one of his henchman. The amber smith’s tunic was torn, one boot had come off, but Lini gritted his teeth, refusing to make a sound.

The other man caught him and
held him for another to punch. Just before the blow connected, however, both Lini’s assailants were violently pulled away and flung to the ground. The villagers gasped.

“Too cowardly for single combat?” snarled Kjartan, glaring down at the pair. They scrambled up but the white-blond warrior was too fast for them. He punched one in the face and
lunged
his sword at the other, seemingly at the same time. The first collapsed unconscious, the other froze with the sword point at his chest.

Lini had staggered after his attackers let go, and unfortunately fell towards Styrkar, who grabbed him by the neck.

“Your little friend will die if you don’t stop!” exclaimed Styrkar, holding a seax to Lini’s throat.

“Yeah?” growled Kjartan, leaping towards him so quickly he flinched. In that moment, Lini was able to elbow him in the stomach, knocking him off balance and allowing Kjartan to stab at his throat. “Let him go, or you’ll be the one dead!”

The ice-blue, furious eyes, snarling face and metal pressing on his neck convinced Styrkar to concede and he stepped back from Lini.

“Look out!” Lini gazed in horror at something behind Kjartan, so he whirled just in time to catch three of Styrkar’s henchmen as they crept up. He set to work on them, slashing at one’s face, punching another, then elbowing the one on his right. He seemed to blur, moving so fast and so angrily. The three retreated,
then
Styrkar pushed Lini out of the way.

“Don’t go anywhere on your own, will you,
ergi
?” He muttered to him,
then
went to attack Kjartan.

The warrior whipped round and hit him with the sword hilt, then turned back to the remaining two. He beat them, slashed at them,
kicked
them. The sound of boot and fist and sword hitting flesh, and groans of the men were all that could be heard. The crowd began dispersing, only the really callous
onlookers remaining to see Styrkar and his friends getting more and more bloodied.

“Kjartan, stop!”
Lini said at last. “I think they’ve got the message.”

He froze, and the beaten men crawled away in the shocked silence of the crowd. Everyone stared at the lanky amber smith, amazed at the power he had over the wild warrior.

“You’ve made a mess outside
my house,” said a shrill voice
as an old woman approached from her doorway. “I don’t mind you drinking but I won’t stand fighting like his.” She glared at the panting Kjartan, who glared back.

“Sorry,” mumbled Lini. He looked in his belt pocket and handed her some amber beads, luckily saved from the destruction of the forge.

“Oh, well, I -
er  -
thank you,” she stuttered. “Be on your way before my husband gets back.”

Lini dragged Kjartan away from the scene by the arm, the crowd parting nervously as they approached.

“What have they done to you?” he asked when he’d got his breath back.

“Oh, I’m alright.
Just a few bruises.”

“I meant your hair. Look at it.”

Lini shrugged. “It’ll grow back. People will stare but they do that anyway. Now I know it was that bloody Styrkar and his mates, I can tell the Jarl. Get some justice for myself.”

There were always ears to overhear things in Hallby however, and threats like that always got back to the target.

*
 
*
  *

Kjartan knocked on Ragnar and Aelfwyn’s door the next morning.

“Come in. I heard about the fight,” said Ragnar. “Is Lini alright?”

“He’s quite beaten, but surviving.”

“Sorry
about the Huskarls’ behaviour. T
hey’ll be disciplined. Steinar is furious.”

“I can’t help you train them anymore. They don’t deserve my help.”

Ragnar paused and Kjartan looked round at the cosy scene. Aelfwyn
was feeding the small children
who were making babbling noises and saying ‘mama’ to her, while her
older daughter Bebbe helped. He felt a pang of sorrow for Lini, who only saw his children in the distance these days.

“Sorry t
o hear that,” said Ragnar, “b
ut I think I understand.”

“Tell that Styrkar to stay out of my way. I’ll kill him next time.”

“Alright, but don’t get into trouble. Want to stay for a drink?”

“Better not, thanks. I don’t want to leave my family alone for too long. You know what people are like at the moment.”

“Very well.
Good luck, brother.” Ragnar patted him on the shoulder and he went out again.

“You’re very accepting of him these days,” said Aelfwyn.

“I get tired of narrow-minded folk. Who cares who he sleeps with as long as he doesn’t go round murdering people?”

“That’s true.”

“I sometimes think we should move out of the village. Maybe go to Gippeswick and find out more about the world.” He looked round at his family: the little twins; Alvi grabbing the spoon from his mother; and Bebbe, her cheeks plumper than when she was rescued from the wolf cult.

“Let’s talk about it later,” said Aelfwyn. “I need to get on with my work and so should you.”

*
 
*
  *

That evening, Lini realised he’d been at the forge clearing up all day and was too tired to wait for Kjartan to come and help. He’d cleared up all the broken glass and amber, and he could leave the rest until tomorrow as he was sore from the fight with Styrkar and his gang yesterday.