Chapter 6
They
took the building apart with wood-axes, and picks, and bars of iron. The dead
from the night's battle had been buried near the walls of the smithy, but now
thralls and outlaws were stamping atop the loose earth while they pulled the
building apart. They used a section of wall to bear Sven's corpse and laid him
over the pit of coals. The bodies of the men he'd slain were dragged from their
graves and placed beside him to either side. Sven's arms were across their
shoulders. Ragnorvald had the bodies of the dogs placed at Sven's feet then he
carried in Eirik and draped the younger man atop the dogs.
The
young priestess had left the tending of her older and still unconscious
superior to that of a thrall while she walked silently about the preparations
for Sven's pyre. There was mostly silence, only Ragnorvald's voice saying what
he wanted done. She peeped for a moment when the bodies of her men were taken
from the ground but her voice was stopped by one look from Gisli who was as
angry as any of the other outlaws and no longer concerned about what curse the Harvest
Mother might lay upon them.
Ragnorvald
placed the axe in Sven's right hand. Bales of hay had been taken from the barn
and placed near the pit of coal and wooden planks that had been the smithy
were layered about the bodies. A tent of thicker wooden beams was built above
them. No words were said as none were needed. Sven would be at the Raven King's
table or frozen at the base of the Life Tree with all other unchosen warriors.
This body they honored, but Sven was gone.
Each
outlaw lit a torch and stuck it into the piled hay. The flames spread quickly
and soon the planks were burning. The tent of wooden beams held a leaping and
joyous fire within. Ragnorvald smiled. This was as much honor as any man could
wish.
"He
wanted to serve the Harvest Mother!" the young priestess shouted. "He
wanted the earth! Not the fire!"
"You
are lucky that I did not use your temple for his pyre," Ragnorvald answered
her. "Thank these men," he waved an arm at the assembled outlaws,
"that I did not add you and all your people to serve him in the Raven
King's hall. I would see this place a blackened ring of earth if not for these
men."
For
a moment fear overwhelmed the young woman and she backed away with her eyes
glistening with panic and tears. The moment passed and she yelled back at
Ragnorvald. "You are cursed. You are evil. All of you!"
They
let her leave them and walk back toward the temple hall. Slowly the crowd of
thralls began to move as if to follow her. Ragnorvald grabbed one by the back
of his shirt, an old wizened thrall, and stopped him. "Ho!" he
shouted loud enough to stop them all. "You are going nowhere but to load
our wagons. Gisli, take this bunch and get them to work. Skarpi, you've no
doubt tried them all but pick out the best half-dozen thrall-maids to take with
us,"
Gisli
laughed and with slaps and pushes moved the sullen thralls toward the barn,
while Skarpi rubbed his hands and began pulling aside the women he had in mind.
Behind them the pyre burned and smoke rose into the sky like a pillar holding
up the blackening clouds.
***
"The
day grows worse," Hord said to his brother.
"This
day started bad enough," Soti replied. He walked between his younger
brother and the Jarl's man Gold-Button. The three led their horses while a
score of warriors followed on foot behind them. "But I see the sky."
"I
see it too," Thorstein replied. He was called Gold-Button by the Jarl's
followers from clan chiefs to freeholders because of the fine clothes he wore,
but he was still a fighter of wide respect.
In
the sky the storm was coming but a dark finger of smoke poked up at the clouds
curving and stretching toward them on the wind.
"It
is calling us," said Hord coming to a stop and letting his horse walk to
him. "Time to mount."
"Past
time," Thorstein agreed, "but what has happened has happened. No use
running the men when we may need them with the breath to fight."
"If
we walk we may not get there in time for a fight," Soti objected.
"How
far off is the temple?" asked Thorstein.
Hord
pointed to the finger of smoke, "About that far off I'd say."
"An
hour or more at a faster pace than this," Soti answered.
"Then
we should move at a faster pace than this," said Thorstein, "but not
at a run, not yet."
***
The
gates were torn down and pushed to the side. Ragnorvald wished to despoil the
hall, at least burn the walls, barn, small buildings, but the anger of his men
dissipated even as the pyre for Sven reached its height. The last timbers were
thrown on the flames, the tent of beams now collapsed on the roasting bodies.
Finally the gates were added as the last of the loot was stored on the wagons.
The
oxen were slow but they could pull a heavy load. The women were split between
the two wagons, Eystein sat beside Glum in the first while Ring sat near the
back with his strung bow and his arrows at the ready. Aelfdan did the same in
the second wagon while Skarpi sat beside Thorkel near the front.
"I
will not be missing this place," said Gisli as he walked beside Ragnorvald.
"Sven
was a loss it is true," Ragnorvald looked back at the hall with disgust.
The wagon's were making their way through the gate and the outlaws marched
behind, some keeping a hand on the high sides of the beds or hanging from a
leather strap so that they were carried along without the bother of
walking. "Now what is the
bitch-priestess up to?"
From
the hall the old priestess walked unsteadily by the younger one's side. She
held a staff to help her along and the girl held a familiar copper box.
"Nothing
good," said Gisli.
Behind
the two women came the thralls till they emptied the hall. Gisli touched the
head of his axe and prepared to draw it into his hand, but the thralls stopped
in a group outside the doors of the temple-hall, only the two women came
forward. When they were a score of feet from Ragnorvald they stopped and the
older of the pair reached into the copper chest and pulled out the skull by its
long red braid. She pointed at Ragnorvald with her free hand and began to
chant.
"Thou
hast hither"
"For
the last time"
"With
death-fated feet"
"Trodden
the ground"
"Before
the sun sets"
"The
Mother's curse"
"Will
justly reward thee"
"For
thy evil doings!"
And
with a scream she swung the skull on its braid and let it sail toward
Ragnorvald. It hit him in the chest and fell to the ground at the entrance to
the temple-farm with its vacant eyes looking at him and its blackened withered
flesh resting on the coils of its red-braided hair.
***
The
smoke from Sven's pyre was dying down. Perhaps the thralls were quenching it
with well-water Ragnorvald thought but he had stayed long enough for Sven to be
little more than bones and ash. They could plant that if they desired.
On
the southern track the forest was nearest to the temple-farm. The hills to the
east were a more direct route to the cave dwellings that the outlaws had
converted into their lair, but they could take the wagons for miles yet to
shave away some of the distance they would need to carry the loot. Even with
the help of six strong thrall-maid backs it would be work.
Though
there had been precious little coin within the temple-farm they had furs and
clothes, boots, small luxuries and a handful of weapons. The bows that the priestesses
had wielded were especially fine, though their arrows were mostly headed with
bone or flint, little use against an armored man. Ring was most pleased to
replace his hunter's tool with a weapon, though just as short, designed for the
killing of men.
Ragnorvald
regretted the death of Sven. Better if he had died killing the enemies or the
victims of their band of outlaws, but Ragnorvald knew that his challenge would
have come sometime this winter when they were trapped in their frozen caves
waiting for spring. Weeding themselves of Eirik was to the good, but Eystein
would be a loss, he was fated for death from the wound, and Skarpi's arm was in
the Weavers' hands. How they wove his fate could not be guessed. The wound in
his side could fester or even the arm caught by the gate, or it might never
regain strength. Ragnorvald had seen all such things happen. His own wound was
sewn and padded with strips of cloth. It was a warm reminder of Sven's
challenge.
He
walked beside Gisli behind the last wagon. The oxen were even slower than he'd
imagined. Pampered, lazy beasts, they'd no doubt walk themselves back to the
temple-farm when they abandoned the wagons. No way to walk them over the
hillsides where the outlaws would need to go. They would drag most of the
heavier sacks of grain and the scrap metal from the smithy and hide it for
later retrieval when he could bring more of the men down to carry it. These
would all be welcome supplies when winter made travel nigh impossible and game
scarce. The real storms would come and they would hibernate like bears inside
their caves.
The
passageways went down and fresh water pooled in the lower depths fed by some
stream that ran cold from the nearby mountains. They had no need to work the
rock. Someone had once lived in the complex of passages and caverns. Stairs
were carved leading to the stream, wood, just rough boles that had turned hard
as stone, braced openings and held against ceilings. Crude drawings filled one
cave and a deep chamber was half choked with bones. No one could tell how far
down it actually went. But no one had lived within the caves in many lifetimes.
"Ho!"
Aelfdan shouted and stood up in the back of the second wagon. "Ragnorvald!
Look!" he pointed in the direction of the receding temple.
More
than just Ragnorvald turned to look behind them. Men dropped from the sides' of
the wagons and the oxen were slowed if not halted from their steady pace.
From
the west three riders could be seen, tiny and distant, with a small dark shape
moving behind them.
"You
have good eyes," Ragnorvald said to Aelfdan. He pulled himself up the back
of the wagon bringing one leg over the tail then standing beside the archer.
The
riders slowly grew in size; the dark shape behind them splitting apart into
many men; Too many.
"I
see spears and shields," said Aelfdan, "and the riders look to be in
mail."
"Cursed
good eyes," said Gisli who was below them.
The
wagon halted, rocking Aelfdan and Ragnorvald slightly, and men began to form
around its tail.
"We
will never outrun them with these wagons," said Gisli.
"We
could leave the wagons and cut into the woods, then into the hills," said
Thorkel who had dropped down from the driver's bench and joined the others.
"Is
that what we could do?" Gisli replied then laughed, "You think you
could outrun those men, Thorkel?"
"I
am in no mood to run," said Ragnorvald, which settled any other thoughts.
Eystein
limped around the wagon-side and smiled a grey smile full of pain up at
Ragnorvald. "I am in no mood to run either."
"I
see the Raven King has decided to honor your fate there, Eystein."
"At
least one of us will get his desire today, Ragnorvald."
A
panicked look came over Thorkel, but then glancing at the rising forested hill
to the east and the caves which might have hidden him, grim resignation buried
any hopes he might have had.
"The
Fox God's tricks," Agnar said in his deep and even voice.
"Or
the Mother's curse?" asked Asbjorn.
"We
will wait for them here," said Ragnorvald. "Turn the wagons and let
the oxen go. Aelfdan, you and Ring can use the wagons for an archer's roost.
The rest of us can keep them at our back."
They
had spears and shields from the fallen at the hall and those who wished had
taken them. Gisli preferred his axe though he also set a pair he'd looted near
to hand and ready to be thrown. Ragnorvald held a spear in his right hand and
an axe in his left. They hadn't been geared for battle with spear and helm and
shield but instead they had travelled light and armed and armored for a raid. The
line of spearmen that were slowly nearing looked all too ready for a fight.
***
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Copyright March 2014 By Jason Zavoda
Judgment Day!
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