Only one hearth fire flamed and smoked, for doors and windows stood open to mild air. Afternoon sunlight streamed in, bright on hangings and metal, soft on graven pillars and wainscots. The noise of household and thorp came low, voices,’ feet, hoofs, wheel-creak, a hammer ringing on an anvil. Well-born women brought beakers of mead to the warriors and sailors on the benches. Beside Hadding sat Gyda, his leman when he was hereabouts, a handsome young woman. Her braids fell fair over red apron panels and pleated white gown; rings on her arms, brooches at her shoulders were of heavy silver. The king was likewise richly clad, in brocaded tunic, blue linen breeks, kidskin cross-garters, and buckskin shoes. A headband with gripping beasts woven into the wool circled his own yellow locks. Others sat quietly and listened while he talked with the skipper.
“Well,” he asked after a while, “how go things in Niderland?”
Ivar frowned. He was a lean, sharp-faced man with brown hair and beard turning gray. His sea-worn wadmal and leather were offset by a gold chain about his neck, from which hung a small silver hammer “Not well, lord,” he answered. “Woe is upon us. The shame to come will be worse”
Hadding straightened. “Say on!”
Ivar had foreseen he must, and readied his words beforehand. “You may know that a jotun hight Jarnskegg has long dwelt in the wild uplands of the Dofra Fell. That’s three or more days’ stiff trek from the great fiord. Hardly anyone lives around there, and they lowly folk with naught worth reaving. So we formerly had little or no trouble with him. He was hardly ever even seen, striding along a ridge against the sky or in the pine gloom of some deep dale.”
Hadding nodded. “Yes, I’ve heard tell of such a one” He did not add that that had been at his fosterers’. Vagnhöfdi had never met Jarnskegg, only gotten word of him. Those few giants who abode in Midgard wanted aloneness.
“But I don’t suppose you know about King Haakon’s daughter, Ragnhild,” Ivar said. “She’s a young woman now, very fair to behold, but on the reckless and stubborn side. Always she loved the mountains and sought to them. Her father let her. She’s his only living girl-child and he cannot easily say her nay. Of course, he sent guardsmen along, as well as her serving maids.
“Last year, up in those wilds, it befell that Jarnskegg came upon her. She stiffened with horror at the sight of him, but he was smitten with her, it seems, unless this was a whim of his. I should think he might well go a bit mad after so many human lifetimes by himself. Be that as it may, he bawled at her to come with him. Her following drew close around her, weapons aloft. Maybe they were too many for him, maybe not. He’s not in any way a warlock, as I’ve heard some giants are. What he growled was that he didn’t want a fight in which she might be hurt, but that she would be hearing more from him. Then he stalked wrathfully off toward the heights.
“A while after this he found a cowherd grazing his kine. He told the man to bear word to the king for him. If not, he would kill the beasts and burn the little homestead. Of course the man obeyed. For token he brought a wisent’s skull, roughly set with quartz rocks in the eye sockets, which Jarnskegg gave him to give Haakon. The word was that the giant wanted Ragnhild. If he got her, he would fight for the king whenever need arose.”
“That in itself shows he’s not quite right in the head,” murmured Hadding, remembering Vagnhöfdi.
“If he was refused, he would lay the kingdom waste,” Ivar went on. “As you’d guess, lord, no father would willingly give a daughter to so foul a being. Haakon sent the cowherd back with that answer, and guards to keep him from suffering what bearers of bad tidings ofttimes suffer. Jarnskegg heard him out and said King Haakon might change his mind later. Then he returned to the wilderness.
“Soon he began striking out at men. The cowherd was the first to die, his head crushed with one blow after the guards went home. Jarnskegg then raided throughout the uplands. The few men in a lonely steading cannot hold him off. He’s murdered them and their families. Those who ran off and hid, he’s searched out to kill.
“Moreover, he’s come into the foothills and at last the lowlands. Again and again has he burst from the night to batter down gates and doors, slay folk and herds, set houses afire. Sometimes more strength has been mustered against him than he could readily deal with. Then he’s needed only to withdraw, faster than they could give chase. But he’s bound to smite again soon, elsewhere. Everybody lives in dread of him, whether he’s come near them or not. Now and then he’ll shout at them that whenever King Haakon wishes for an end to this, he has but to send Ragnhild alone to the Troll’s Hood for him to claim.
“Of course the king’s ordered troops out to do away with him. Each time they’ve blundered uselessly around in the mountains. Clear it is, Jarnskegg’s known where they were, and kens that wilderness better than any man. He can easily keep from them till they quit. He might well slip off while they’re searching and find yet another helpless home to smash.”
“Has not the king called on the gods?” asked Hadding.
“Indeed he has, again and again, with mighty offerings,” Ivar said. “Nothing has come of
