FOUR
Shea awoke with a set of fur-bearing teeth and a headache that resembled the establishment of a drop- forging plant inside his brain — whether from the mead or the effect of those two piercing glances he had received from Heimdall and Odinn he could not tell. It was severe enough to stir him to a morning-after resolution to avoid all three in the future.
When the panel of his bedroom slid back he could hear voices from the hall. Thor, Loki. and Thjalfi were at breakfast as he came in, tearing away with knives and fingers at steaks the size of unabridged dictionaries. The foxy-faced Loki greeted him cheerfully: «Hail, hero of the turnip fields! Will your lordship do us the honour of breakfasting with us?»
He shoved a wooden platter with a hunk of meat on it towards Shea and passed along one of a collection of filled mugs— Shea’s mouth was dry, but he almost gagged when a pull at the mug showed it contained beer and sour beer at that.
Loki laughed. «Ridiculous it is,» he said, «to see the children of men, who have no fixed customs, grow uneasy when customs about them change. Harald of the Turnips, I am told you are a notable warlock.»
Shea looked at his plate. «I know one or two tricks,» he admitted.
«It was only to be expected that a hero of such unusual powers would be modest. Now there is this to be said: a man fares ill at Ragnarok unless he have his place. Would you be one of my band at the
Shea gulped. He was still unconvinced about this story of a battle and the end of the world, but he might as well ride with the current till he could master it. «Yes, sir, and thank you.»
«The worm consents to ride on the eagle’s wings. Thank you, most gracious worm. Then I will tell you what you must do; you must go with us to Jotunheim, and that will be a hard journey.»
Shea remembered his conversation with Heimdall the night before. «Isn’t that where some of the giants live?»
«The frost giants to be exact. That lying Sleepless One claims to have heard Thor’s hammer humming somewhere in their castle; and for all of us it will be well to find that weapon. But we shall need whatever we possess of strength and magic in the task — unless, Lord Turnip Eater, you think you can recover it without our help.»
Shea gulped again. Should he go with them? He had come looking for adventure, but enough was enough. «What is adventure?» he remembered reading somewhere, with the answer, «Somebody else having a hell of a tough time a thousand miles away.» Only —
Thjalfi had come round the table, and said in a low voice:
«Look. My sister Roskva is staying here at the Crossroads, because the Giant Killer don’t think Jotunhejm would be any place for a woman. That leaves me all alone with these ?sir and an awful lot of giants. I’d be mighty obliged if ye could see your way to keep me company.»
«I’ll do it,» said Shea aloud. Then he realized that his impulsiveness had let him in for something. If Loki and Thor were not sure they could recover the hammer without help, it was likely to be an enterprise of some difficulty. Still, neither ?sir nor giants knew about matches — or the revolver. They would do for magic till something better came along.
«I’ve already spoken to the Lord of the Goat Chariot,» Thjalfi was saying. «He’d be glad to have ye come, but he says ye mustn’t disgrace him by asking to eat turnips. Ye’d best do something about those clothes. They’re more than light for this climate. Sverre-bonder will lend you some others.»
Sverre was glad to take the inadequate polo coat and riding breeches as security for the loan of some baggy Norse garments. Shea, newly dressed in accordance with his surroundings, went outside. A low, cheerless sun shone on the blinding white of new snow. As the biting cold nipped his nose Shea was thankful for the yards of coarse wool in which he was swathed.
The goat chariot was waiting. It was as big as a Conestoga wagon, notwithstanding that there were only two wheels. A line of incised runic letters was etched in black around the gold rim; the body was boldly painted red and gold. But the goats constituted the most remarkable feature. One was black, the other white, and they were as big as horses.
«This here’s Tooth Gnasher,» said Thjalfi, indicating the nigh goat, «and that there’s Tooth Gritter,» waving at the off goat, the black one. «Say, friend Harald, I’d be mighty obliged if ye’d help me tote the stuff out.»
Shea, ignorant of what the «stuff» was, followed Thjalfi into the bonder’s house, where the latter pointed to a big oak chest. This, he explained, held the ?sir’s belongings. Thjalfi hoisted one end by its bronze handle. Shea took hold of the other, expecting it to come up easily. The chest did not move. He looked at Thjalfi, but the latter merely stood, holding his end off the floor without apparent effort. So Shea took his handle in both hands and gave a mighty heave. He got his end up, but the thing seemed packed with ingots of lead. The pair went through the door, Thjalfi leading, Shea staggering and straining along in the rear. He almost yelled to Thjalfi to hurry and ease the horrible strain on his arms, but this would involve so much loss of face that he stuck it out. When they reached the chariot Shea dropped his end into the snow and almost collapsed across the chest. The icy air hurt his lungs as he drew great gasps of breath.
«All right,» said Thialfi calmly, «you catch hold here, and we’ll shove her aboard.» Shea forced his unwilling body to obey. They manhandled one end of the chest onto the tail of the chariot and somehow got the whole thing aboard. Shea was uncomfortably aware that Thjalfi had done three-quarters of the work, but the rustic seemed not to notice.
With the load in, Shea leaned against one of the shafts, waiting for his heart to slow down and for the aches in his arms and chest to subside. «Now it is to be seen,» said a voice, «that Thjalfi has persuaded another mortal to share his labours. Convenient is this for Thjalfi.»
It was the foxy-faced Loki, with the usual note of mockery in his voice. Once more Shea’s temper began to rise. Thjalfi was all right — but it
Just then came a tug at his cloak. He whirled round; Tooth Gritter had seized the lower edge of the garment in his teeth and was trying to drag it off him. «Hey!» cried Shea, and dragged back. The giant goat shook its head and held on while Loki stood with hands on hips, laughing a deep, rich belly-laugh. He made not the slightest move to help Shea. Thjalfi came running round and added his strength to Shea’s. The cloak came loose with a rip; the two mortals tumbled backward. Tooth Gritter calmly munched the fragment he had torn from the cloak and swallowed it.
Shea got up scowling and faced a Loki purple with amusement. «Say, you,» he began belligerently, «what the hell’s so damn funny —» At that instant Thjalfi seized him from behind and whirled him away as though he were a child. «Shut up, ye nitwit!» he flung into Shea’s ear. «Don’t ye know he could burn ye to a cinder just by looking at ye?»
«But —»
«But nothing! Them’s gods! No matter what they do ye dassn’t say boo, or they’ll do something worse. That’s how things be!»
«Okay,» grumbled Shea, reflecting that rustics the world over were a little too ready to accept «that’s how things be,» and that when the opportunity came he would get back some of his own from Loki.
«Ye want to be careful around them goats,» continued Thjalfi. «They’re mean, and they eat most anything. I remember a funny thing as happened a fortnight hack. We found five men that had frozen to death on the moor. I says we ought to take them in so their folks could give ’ em burial. Thor says all right, take ’ em in. When we got to the house we was going to stay at, the bonder didn’t see as how there was any point in bringing ’em inside, ’cause when they got thawed out, they’d get kind of strong. So we stacked ’em in the yard, like firewood. Next morning, would ye believe it, those goats had gotten at ’em and et ’ em up. Everything but their buckles!» Thjalfi chuckled to himself.
