Authors: M. D. Lachlan
Wolfsangel (16 page)
‘Not a chance. You’ll have proved yourself a great warrior. Your girl’ll live, that’s all. Now get out of here before I change my mind on that one too.’
Vali saw how he had been forced into a situation where the best he could hope for was that things would remain as they had been. The worst? Well, that wasn’t going to happen. The chances of finding wolfmen, let alone capturing one, were terribly slim. A different plan was needed. Adisla would have to marry her farmer immediately. That would make it much more difficult for Forkbeard to take her as a sacrifice. It would mean they would never be together but she would live. And he would still have to go on his mission. He was sure he wouldn’t return.
For the second time that day, he ran the distance between Forkbeard’s hall and Adisla’s house, pushing himself ever faster. Halfway there he heard hooves behind him - three riders of the king’s bodyguard, their purpose clear. They were riding bareback, with only bridles on the horses. They hadn’t had time to saddle up because they were trying to beat him to the farm.
The horses slowed as they approached. They were on a narrow track through trees and he moved to bar their path.
‘You stop there!’ shouted Vali. ‘As a prince I command you to stop.’
The horses drew up. The riders were armed - one with a sword and two with spears - but he felt sure they wouldn’t attack him.
The swordsman drew his weapon and pointed it at Vali - it was Ageirr, who had told him the news of Adisla’s marriage in the first place. ‘Where are your arms, prince? Ah, but you are Vali the Swordless, hearth hugger and thrall friend, aren’t you? How do you propose to stop us? With the words you learned from the women? Or are you going to speak our enemies’ language at us?’
The other two laughed, though slightly nervously. Vali was after all a prince, and they knew very well that at some point he might have the power of life and death over them.
Vali was desperate. ‘I’ll pay you to let me go first. On oath, you’ll have money if you do so.’
Where Vali would get this money from, he didn’t know. Maybe he could sell the helmet his father had given him, if he could get it back off Bragi.
‘We are sworn defenders of the king,’ said a spearman. ‘There is no money that can sway us from his orders.’ He urged his horse forward at a trot.
As he came past, Vali lunged for him, grabbing his tunic and pulling him from the animal’s back. The horse was spooked and bolted, streaming the reins behind it. The other two kicked their mounts forward and around the pair brawling on the ground. ‘See you at the slut’s house!’ shouted Ageirr as he passed.
Vali jumped up in useless desperation.
The bodyguard followed him and dusted himself down.
‘A fair smack, prince, weapon or no weapon, I grant you that,’ he said. Then he looked to the ground. ‘I’m sorry for what’s to happen to her. She is a fine girl.’
‘Save your words for your horse,’ said Vali, turning to run through the trees to the farm.
She was gone, of course, when he arrived. Disa was waiting in the doorway. He had never seen her so angry.
‘What have you done?’ she said.
Vali felt hot and wretched. ‘How is she? Where have they taken her?’
‘She’s at Forkbeard’s hall. She’s perfectly well and likely to remain so until they hang her. What are you going to do about it, boy? What are you going to do?’
Vali’s body felt full of energy. He was bursting to go somewhere, to do something, to make it all go away, but even as he said the words, they sounded unconvincing. ‘I’ll do as Forkbeard demands - I’ll find the wolfmen.’
‘How?’
‘I . . . I’ll go north and walk around until they attack me.’
For the first time in his life Vali saw Disa’s eyes fill with tears.
‘You’ll do nothing of the sort, you useless fool. That’ll be two of you dead if you do.’
‘Then I’ll go to Forkbeard’s hall and fight him for her.’
‘You’ll fight Forkbeard, a man who killed his first enemy at twelve and who has murdered more people than you have ever seen. You fight Forkbeard, you’ll . . .’
She wiped her eyes. Bragi was watching from where he was sitting beneath a tree. He had decided long ago that the best way to keep an eye on the prince was to spend time at Disa’s himself.
‘You, old man, you go with him.’
‘I was told the order yesterday, madam. The boy is to go alone.’
‘You knew, and sat there drinking at my table?’
‘I knew he was to go; I knew nothing of the fate of your girl, on my oath.’
Disa composed herself.
‘Will you lend him your sword at least? It’s the best blade in the kingdom.’
‘It would be my dearest wish,’ said Bragi.
‘Then come on,’ said Disa. ‘We have no time to waste. Come inside.’
‘I need to go now. I need to find this wolfman,’ said Vali.
‘That,’ said Disa, ‘is exactly what we are going to do. Get Ma Jodis; we have work to do.’
11 An Invitation
Word of what was happening spread throughout the little farmsteads and curiosity drew a crowd. They packed into Disa’s house so tightly that she had to drive some of them outside.
While they waited for Jodis to come, Disa took a pack from her shelf and began to stuff it with food - bread, some cheese, honey in a pot sealed with cloth - and other things. She was talking, as much to herself as to Vali.
‘You’ll need food, for a little way at least, and something to light your fire. I’ll put in some webs and yarrow for wounds. The honey’s not to be eaten; you can put that on any cuts you get too. Long root will give strength to your blood and mint will keep you watchful. This,’ she said, holding up a small flask, ‘is to be taken in small quantities when you are well hidden and sure to be safe from enemies. It will help you sleep through the white nights, no matter how hard the bed, though you need no more than a drop. Five drops in a man’s glass will see him sleep so soundly he cannot be woken for a day - you may need to resort to such measures if you are hard-pressed. Here is wolfsbane, to take away pain, again only a drop. Now, what else?’
As she scoured her shelves Bragi came in with his sword. Disa took it from him without a word and put it next to the pack. All the time Vali was stewing in his shame. He had condemned Adisla to death because he had considered only himself, not her.
‘This,’ said Ma Disa, holding open a small bag of mushrooms and dried flowers, ‘is what the berserks use. Boil it with water and drink it as hot as you can bear.’
Vali was going to protest, to say he didn’t want anything to do with berserker magic. He couldn’t really see a situation where he would have time for what amounted to cooking before a fight but, he thought, best take it and be grateful.
Jodis came in, smacking him hard over the back of the head.
‘I heard. You’re a fool, prince, and the gods help the Horda if you ever become their king.’ Ma Jodis was a big bustling woman with arms like pork hams and the blow hurt. Vali accepted it, though. He’d known her since he was a small child and almost regarded it as her right to cuff him around the ears if she wanted to.
The women exchanged a long look.
‘Begin?’ said Jodis.
Disa nodded.
The women went to the centre of the room and started work, stoking up the fire, moving goats, chickens, benches and stools out of the way, pushing the curious to where they would cause least interference.
They brought in a table, which was positioned very close to the fire. On the table was placed a chest, pulled through the throng of onlookers. As this was done Disa shook down her hair. Jodis caught it up in her hands, tying it at the back in three tight knots. Vali shivered. He knew what they were - the hanging knots of the dead lord’s necklace - symbol of Odin, the god he had come to hate.
The women’s actions were accompanied by a whispered commentary, as those who could see passed news of what was happening to those who could not.
‘She’s tying her hair.’
‘She’s becoming the bride of Odin.’
‘If she hangs herself then the god might save the girl.’
‘That terrible fellow wants someone to swing, no mistake.’
‘He is lord of the hanged, a mighty god indeed!’
‘Don’t be so stupid - Ma Disa’s death won’t save the girl.’
Some voices praised Odin almost ecstatically. Others were quieter but disapproving of what they saw. The poorer people, those who had the hard pasture and mean dwellings, thought that destiny lay in the hands of the gods. The richer farmers, or those who had enjoyed successful raiding, were more inclined to say they had made their own luck and put less trust in the divine.
Jodis pushed the chest to the front of the table and Disa sat on it, her head slightly above those of the standing crowd, her feet only just above the fire. Jodis took Vali by the arm and sat him on the floor on the other side of the fire, looking up at Disa.
Vali glanced around at the watching faces, long in the light of the flames. It was as if he was at the centre of some strange clearing in the forest, the people hanging over him like twisted trees.
‘Them that don’t have to be here, shouldn’t be here for the next bit - you’ll be in for a long night,’ said Jodis, but no one moved. She pushed through the crowd, took a pot from a shelf at the back of the room, removed a stone serving as its lid and shook something into her hand that looked to Vali like kindling.
Jodis threw the stuff onto the fire and it began to burn, releasing an acrid and unpleasant smoke. Most of those nearest to it, Vali included, pulled their tunics up over their mouths and noses, but Disa breathed deeply and intoned in a strange high voice:
I speak the rune of the spell godI howl the rune of the hanged godOdin, who lost his eye for loreOdin, waiting mind blown by the well.
Disa then produced a piece of wood and marked something on it - Vali couldn’t see what - with three strokes of her knife. She put the wood on her knees and held the knife to her palm. She drew in breath, steeling herself, and then made the same three strokes in her hand, but much quicker. Vali recognised the Ansuz rune and was fascinated. He could carve runes himself and knew they were said to have magical properties. He’d asked Disa to tell him what they were, but she had just said that kings and warriors made their magic cutting runes on the bodies of their enemies and had no need for further knowledge.
The blood dripped from Disa’s hand down onto the wood. She smeared it into what she had carved there and then threw it onto the fire.
‘What am I? I am a woman. Where am I? At the hearth. What am I? I am a woman. Where am I? At the hearth. What am I? I am a woman. Where am I? At the hearth. What am I? I am a woman. Where am I? At the hearth.’
Jodis came to Disa’s side and bound her hand, but she seemed not to notice. She continued to chant, eyes vacant and staring into space. Her voice seemed to deaden Vali’s sense of time. He saw the fire restocked both with logs and with the strange herbs by Jodis and then old Ma Sefa returned with more of each.
‘What am I? I am a woman. Where am I? At the hearth. What am I? I am a woman. Where am I? At the hearth.’ Again and again she said the words, rocking slightly on the chest as Vali looked up at her through the fire and the smoke. Sometimes his mind wandered and he thought that she had stopped, but when he came back to himself she was still chanting, How long had he sat there? He couldn’t tell but his legs were numb and his head was heavy.
The smoke filled up Vali’s senses. Tiredness descended on him but he was not allowed to sleep. Every time he began to drift off, Jodis or Sefa would shake him, as they roused Disa. The purpose of her seat became clear. It was uncomfortable and precarious - virtually impossible to doze on. Then Vali noticed the room was lighter and colder. Some people had left; in fact many people had left. Looking over to the doorway, he realised he had completely missed the brief night and the light was that of the dawn.
Around them the farmers came and went: chatting, speculating on how Disa worked her art, wondering what enchantment she was laying on Vali. Some said that she was trying to make him invulnerable to weapons, some that she would turn him into a bird to scour the land for the wolfmen, some that she was pleased her daughter was going to Odin and would frustrate Vali in his quest. A couple began to play at dice; others picked up Vali’s King’s Table set and played that, bored by the ritual but afraid they might miss something if they went home. Two young men even started to mock Disa, repeating her words in silly high voices. Jodis sent them packing with a whack from a broom. Late arrivers, religious women of the outlying farms, came and joined in the chant, hoping to gain the blessing of the god Disa was seeking.
‘What am I? I am a woman. Where am I? At the hearth. What am I? I am a woman. Where am I? At the hearth.’
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