Karin took Ulf's hand in her own and pulled him away with her. As they disappeared into the house, Gunnar started forward to meet the stranger. 'You two will come with me,' he said, gesturing for Helmuth and me to follow.
'Is that the man?' Gunnar asked as I fell into step with him.
I nodded. 'Yes.'
When only a few dozen paces separated us, Gunnar halted and waited for the stranger to approach him. He looked little worse for his night in the woods, though none better either; his hands were dirty, and his eyes red from lack of sleep. When he came near enough, Gunnar called out to him. I understood some of what was said, and Helmuth explained the rest later.
'You say you are King Harald's man,' Gunnar said curtly. 'I ask myself, what would your king do to men who raped his kinswoman and killed his slave and hound?'
At this, the warrior blanched. 'No one raped your kinswoman,' he muttered. 'We only wanted to talk to her.'
'What of Odd? As he did not understand your speech, no doubt you thought he would understand your sword. I think he understood you well.'
'Eanmund killed him,' the dark man replied. Raising an accusing finger at me, he said, 'He killed Eanmund. He loosed the hound. As to the girl, we did not know she was your kinswoman; we thought she was a slave.'
'Because of you,' Gunnar said, 'my good slave is dead, and my hound also. What have you to say to this?'
'If you think yourself aggrieved, take your complaint to the king. For myself, I say only this: My name is Hrethel and I am accustomed to holding council in the halls of jarls and kings, yet you keep me standing here like a slave or foreigner.'
'Do you expect the welcome bowl even now? After bringing death and strife to my house, you think I should pour out my best ale for you?' Gunnar laughed harshly. 'Be thankful I do not pour out your blood instead.'
'I am a man of rank,' the stranger said. 'I merely meant for you to bear that in mind.
'Then cease your worrying on that point,' Gunnar sneered haughtily. 'I know well what manner of man I have before me.'
Hrethel frowned, but abandoned any further attempt to gain the better of Gunnar. 'The message I bring is this: King Harald Bull-Roar has proclaimed a theng to commence the first full moon after next. As a free man and land-holder of Skania, the king charges you to attend.'
Gunnar's eyes narrowed. 'But I am Jarl Ragnar's man.'
'Ragnar Yellow Hair has pledged fealty to Harald. Therefore, you are summoned along with your king. If you fail to attend, your lands will be seized in forfeit to King Harald.'
'I see.' Gunnar stroked his chin thoughtfully. 'Is there nothing more? This message might easily have been given to my wife or my slave. I am thinking that if you had done so, my slave and my good hound would still live.'
'I am charged by my king to deliver the message to the jarls and free men of Skania, not,' Hrethel sneered, 'their wives and slaves. This I have done, and now I will leave you.'
'Go your way,' Gunnar told him. 'I will not prevent you. I will go to the theng-of that you may be certain. For I intend to bring your crime before the king.'
Hrethel nodded, his frown indignant. 'That is your right.'
He turned on his heel and walked from the yard, across the meadow and into the forest. Gunnar watched him out of sight and then turned to me. 'We will go to the council, you and me,' my master said, pressing his finger into my chest. 'You saw what happened. This you will tell the king.'
If the message Gunnar received troubled him, he gave no sign-neither that night, nor in the days to follow. Life on the small holding continued as before, but without Odd there was that much more for everyone else to do. I took on most of his chores, but considered it no hardship, for it meant I could speak more often with Helmuth. I applied myself to the work of the holding, and no less diligently to my speech, practising the rough tongue with Helmuth as often as I could, and also on my own. I began speaking with more precision as my confidence increased; I reckoned that if I were to give an accounting before the king, I would benefit from increased fluency, and this thought inspired my efforts. Helmuth helped me with the speech I would make; he questioned me as if he were king of all the Danes, and I answered him over and over again until I could offer a clear account of all that happened the day Odd was killed.
When I was not practising, I prayed as it seemed right to me, and my mind turned again and again to my brothers on the pilgrimage. I often found myself wondering where they were, what they were doing, and what had happened to them since I last saw them. I prayed for them in the daily round, praying the protection of Michael Militant and his angels to shield them on their way.
Summer drew on and the days passed; the time for the theng approached. One day a free man from a neighbouring holding came to speak to Gunnar. His name was Tolar and he was on his way to market; he stopped for a meal, but did not stay the night. I do not know what they talked about, but Gunnar was very thoughtful when he left.
From that day Gunnar began to grow short-tempered and particular. He found fault in everything; no one could please him. Once or twice, he even shouted at Ulf. In fact, one evening just before we were to leave he became so unpleasant that I left the house to sit outside on a stump in the yard so that I might eat my meal in peace without his complaining. I was enjoying the warm evening and the long northern twilight, saying vespers aloud to myself when I became aware that someone had crept up beside me.
I opened my eyes and raised my head to see Ylva standing over me with her hands clasped, as mine had been, in an attitude of prayer.
'You are singing again to your god, heya?' she observed.
'Yes.'
'Perhaps this god of yours would help our Gunnar.'
I did not know what to say to this, so I merely agreed. 'Perhaps.'
'Something preys on Gunnar's mind,' she declared quietly. She knelt down in the grass beside the stump. 'He is worried about the theng. He fears it will go ill with him there.'
I turned to look at her face in the soft dusky light. It was a beautiful face in its way, fine-featured and good- natured, with deep brown eyes and a small, straight nose. Her long braids were still neat after a whole day's labour. She smoothed her mantle with her hands. Her clothing carried the scent of the kitchen.
'Tell me about this-this theng,' I suggested.
'It is the theng,' she answered. 'It is a…' she hesitated, thinking how best to describe it, 'a place where jarls and free men go to talk.'
'A council.' I drew a circle in the air.
'Heya,' she nodded brightly, 'it is a talking-ring.'
'Has Gunnar any purpose-ah, no, that is not right.' I thought for a moment. 'Reason! Has he any reason to fear this council?'
She shook her head, peering at her hands in her lap. 'None that I know. Always before, he welcomes the theng. Every day everyone drinks the king's ol and gets drunk. It is enjoyable for them, I think.'
'Ylva,' I said on sudden inspiration, 'would you do something for me?'
She looked at me suspiciously. 'What is this you wish me to do?'
'Would you…' I did not know the word, 'ah, would you cut me?' I patted my bristly forehead. 'Here?'
She laughed. 'You want me to shave you!'
'Heya. I want you to shave me. If I am to stand before the king, I must look like a…ah-'
'Shaven one,' she said, supplying the barbarian term for priest.
'Yes, I want to look like a shaven one. Will you do this?'
Ylva assented and fetched Gunnar's razor and a bowl of water. She settled herself on the stump and I on the ground before her, and, at my direction, she renewed my tonsure with swift strokes of her deft fingers. Karin, concerned over Ylva's absence, came out to look for us and, when she saw what we were about, hurried back to the house and called Ulf and Gunnar to see as well. They thought the sight immensely humorous and laughed loud and long at me.
Well, if the sight of a monk's tonsure gave them pleasure, so be it. Laughter, I reckoned, was the least trial a
