killed his slave and dog-' she said something else I did not catch, but she pointed to Ylva, and I guessed she meant that the threat to Ylva would be reported, along with the slaying of Odd and Surt.
Foaming with rage, the dark barbarian advanced. The blade in his hand rose to my throat. I saw the hatred in his eyes, but felt strangely calm, as if it all had happened a long time ago and to some other Aidan.
The swordpoint swung nearer.
The blow caught me on the side of the head-not the sword, but the fist gripping the handle. I fell at once, blinded by the pain, and lay waiting for the final stroke that would part soul from body. I was dimly aware of Ylva's wailing; she was shouting and crying for the bloodshed to stop.
I heard Karin shout again, and I looked up to see that she had seized the stranger's sword arm and held him from completing his thrust. 'Enough!' she cried. 'Would you kill two of Gunnar's slaves?'
The king's man hesitated; the swordpoint wavered as he weighed his choices. Karin, her brow dark and threatening, spoke a warning in a low voice, and the sword arm slowly relaxed. Glowering murderously, the king's man sheathed the blade and, with a dark-muttered oath, turned away. Head throbbing, I climbed to my feet and brushed myself off.
Karin stepped to Ylva and spoke sharply to her. The young woman's wail subsided to a ragged whimper. 'Come,' said Karin, gathering Ylva under her arm. To the king's man and myself she said, 'Bury them.'
The two women walked slowly and with great dignity back to the house, leaving me and my enemy to deal with the corpses. Together we dragged the bodies down to the duck pond and, using Gunnar's wooden shovel and part of an iron ploughshare, dug two graves in the soft earth of the bank. As it happened, I did all the digging, for as soon as we reached the pond, the king's man sat down and would do no more, so I performed the task alone.
When I finished, the stranger stripped his friend's body of all valuables-including swordbelt, boots and jerkin. He then sat down again and watched as I rolled them into the graves. The dark man gave me to know in muttered threats and gestures that if he had his way, I would soon be joining them there.
I did not like to see Odd go to his rest without the least regard paid to his passing. True, he was no Christian man, but it seemed to me that he was still a child of the Eternal Father, and deserved to be treated as such. Indeed, if I had been a better monk, I might have told him about the Everliving Son, and he might have believed. So, I made a prayer for him. As I pushed the dirt over his body, I said these words:
'Great of Heaven, you pour your gifts upon all who walk your world below, pagan and Christian souls alike. Odd, here, was a slave, and worked hard for his master. He loved Ylva, I think, and died trying to protect her. Jesu said that there is no greater love than that shown by a man who lays down his life for a friend. Sure, I know Christians who would not do as much. Therefore, account this to Odd's credit, Lord. And if there is any room in your banquet hall for a man whose life was lived by such light as he had, then please let Odd join the heavenly feast-not for his sake, mind, but for the sake of your own dear Son. Amen, so be it.'
The king's man glared at me as I prayed, and when I finished, he seized me by my slave collar and spat in my face, and then spat into the grave. Jerking hard on the collar then, he forced my to my knees, whereupon he kicked me in the stomach, once, and then again-releasing his hold on my collar with the second kick, so that I fell backwards into the grave and landed on top of poor Odd's corpse. The king's man then began throwing dirt over me, as if he would bury me alive.
In a little while he tired, however, and sat down again. I climbed warily from the grave, and continued with the burials, pausing to make a prayer for the stranger, too. 'Lord God,' I said, 'I give you a man who lived by the sword. His deeds you know; his soul stands before you now. In judgement, Lord, remember mercy. Amen.'
The dark man stared at me as if in amazement. I do not know what he found to astonish him so, but he did not spit at me this time. I finished pushing the dirt over the bodies and pressed the earth down, marking the graves with a round stone fetched from the pond. I also buried the dog in a shallow grave beside the two men, but said no prayer for the beast. When I finished, I looked around, but the king's man was gone. Nor did I see him when I went back to the house.
That night, I lay for a long time unable to sleep, a curious, unsettling feeling fluttering in my breast. It was not fear of the king's man, or worry that he would try to harm us in our sleep, no. It was the thought that I had caused the death of a fellow human being-pagan barbarian though he was. One moment he existed and now he did not, and I had brought this about.
Even so, I held no remorse for the deed. What I had done, I did to save Odd. Shameful to say, my only regret was that I had stayed my hand. My heart and mind, my whole being was consumed with the certainty that had I loosed Surt sooner, Odd would still be alive.
Sure, I knew I should feel deep grief and guilt for a sin of such iniquitous magnitude. Christ save me, I could not find it in me to repent. Thus, I lay on my bed of straw, trying to work up a sincere feeling of remorse for the hateful act. Oh, but defiance had me in its wicked grip; I knew beyond all doubt that had I to do it again, I would not hesitate. At last, abandoning sleep altogether, I made my way down to the fishpond where I stripped and stood to my waist in the water reciting the Psalms-the chastisement I had previously favoured.
Alas, the water was not cold enough to produce true penance. Rather, I found the cool, still water refreshing on my skin, and the deep stillness of the night a balm to my soul. In the end, I could but admit defeat; I hauled myself from the water and fell asleep on the bank as the pale slivered moon set in the trees.
18
Gunnar returned at dusk the next day. The king's man had waited through the long summer day, maintaining a sullen, brooding vigil in the woods. I saw him once or twice while I was fishing. Later, I was cleaning the fish when Gunnar called, announcing his arrival. The master of the holding came striding into the yard, singing out for his wife and cup. I rose from my work and went to meet him, my stomach churning with dreadful anticipation.
They were standing in the yard by the house. Little Ulf fidgeted under his mother's embrace; he had a new knife tucked into his belt. And Helmuth, I noticed, was wearing new leather boots, and carrying a bundle of cloth.
'Where is this stranger?' Gunnar demanded as I joined them. The happy greeting had faded into sour suspicion.
'I have not seen him since the killing,' Karin said.
Gunnar, his face squeezing into a scowl, turned to me.
'He helped me to-ah,' I tried to think of the word.
'Bury them.' Karin completed the thought for me. 'He helped Aeddan to bury the bodies.'
'There were two of them?' growled Gunnar, his anger rising.
'Yes, two. One killed Odd, and then Surt killed him,' I explained as best I could. 'The other killed Surt.'
'Surt killed one?
'Heya,' I said.
'They said they are King Harald's men. They came for you, husband,' Karin told him, and continued, but I lost the thread. '…they said only Gunnar must hear this message.'
The two began speaking to one another so rapidly that I could not follow what they said, but I think they were discussing how the killings had taken place; I know Ylva's name came into it, and also my own, for Gunnar turned to me and demanded something which I did not understand. I shook my head helplessly.
Helmuth, standing near, said, 'Gunnar wants to know if it is true that you loosed the dog.'
To Helmuth I said, 'Tell him that I only thought to protect Odd, but I did not act swiftly enough to prevent the attack.'
My master said something else and placed his question again. Helmuth relayed his words to me. 'He asks if you loosed the dog. Tell him the truth.'
'Yes, I did that,' I replied, and, Jesu forgive me, I confess I felt no guilt.
'Good,' Gunnar said gruffly.
Just then Helmuth raised his pigstaff and pointed across the yard. 'Master Gunnar,' he said, 'here he comes.'
Gunnar took one look at the approaching stranger, and turned to Karin and Ylva. 'Go into the house and stay there.'
