Heroes of the Valley (26 page)

'I have come,' the old man said, tapping Arnkel's knife in his belt, 'as I said I would. To do you a good turn. To return your favour, to return the kindness you showed me many months ago.'

Halli blinked, nodded. 'Erm, thank you. Wouldn't you like to get down?'

'Two things!' Snorri cried, in a voice that roused echoes along the hall and made Halli flinch back. 'Two things I bring you!
This
is the first.' Half turning, he loosened a cord that tied the great dark bag to the saddle; it fell with a solid thud upon the floor. Large, heavy, rounded shapes rolled within the red-stained sacking.

Halli swallowed audibly. 'What . . . what
is
that . . . ?'

'A bag of beets. I have more than I know what to do with. A gift of greeting.'

'Well, that's very nice—'

'Wait!' Snorri cried. 'The second thing I bring is news!

Terrible news! Hord Hakonsson and his men have scaled the ice-choked gorge! They are already in the upper valley. Tomorrow night, when you are sleeping, they will be at your gates! They seek to burn your House and take your lands!' He scratched his nose, cocked a bony leg and began to dismount. 'Oh yes . . .' he added, pausing, 'and kill you all.'

B
EFORE DEPARTING FOR HIS
meeting with the heroes, Svein summoned his wife before him. 'I intend to rid our valley of the Trows once and for all,' he said, 'and it may be that I'll meet my death in doing so. If I don't come back, here are my instructions. I've no son, but my men are good fighters. Go out on raids, and whoever acquits himself best, make him your Arbiter. After that, respect my boundaries and my laws. If someone in my House is killed, his enemy must be killed in turn. If one of the other Houses threatens us, their hall must be burned down. Keep our wells clean and our blood pure. Remember that you are the greatest people of the valley. As for me, build my cairn on the ridge above the House so that I may watch over you always; and those of you who obey my laws shall join me on the hill.'

They had been coming in twos and threes since before dawn, and now the people of Svein's House filled the hall. The noise they made carried down the little corridor to Arnkel and Astrid's room; it resonated distantly like the crashing of the falls.

Halli stood before the bed, waiting for his mother to speak. Her chair was at the margins of the candlelight; she sat straight-backed and motionless, hands folded in her lap, her face cast in shadow by the bright, sharp edge of her long fair hair.

Close by her, Halli's father slept quietly in the centre of the bed.

'This comes of your deeds,' Astrid said finally.

'I know.'

'Have you woken Leif ?'

'Yes. Well, I tried. He was befuddled with drink. Eyjolf took him to the trough.'

His mother made a sharp noise between her teeth. Halli waited. As he waited, his eyes drifted slowly across the bed to where his father lay. The candle on the table cast soft light upon the ravaged face. Arnkel was sleeping more peacefully than in many months, his white hair spread out upon the pillow behind his head. Halli watched his father sleep. It struck him that Arnkel's beard had grown long and vigorous during the illness – that it must have been that way all winter. He had not noticed it before.

'Halli?' His mother had been speaking to him. 'Did you hear what I said?'

'No.'

'I asked if you had slept at all.'

'A little, Mother. A few hours. I needed to.'

'Good. Come here.' She sat as still and upright as if in her Law Seat rather than a bedside chair. Halli, approaching slowly, felt as diffident as if she judged him in a trial. He came to a halt before her, eyes lowered to the floor.

'Mother—'

'Look at me.' Her expression, pale and sombre, did not change, but her hand reached out to touch the side of his face. 'Whatever has passed between us is forgotten now,' she said. 'You are my son, and I know the qualities you have. You need to use those qualities now, Halli Sveinsson. Use them for the good of your House. Go to the hall. Help Leif as best you can. Your father would wish it so.'

Her hand brushed his cheek and was removed. Halli said thickly, 'Please, come with me. You know they will want to hear from you.'

She turned her head away; the hair fell forward to obscure her face. 'No. I cannot leave Arnkel. Not now. It is too close. Go on, Halli.'

Outside, he paused in the darkness of the passage. From beyond the drapes the roar of the crowd thrummed against his ear. Weariness rose in him; his eyes were hot. He closed them, leaned back against the wall – and saw an image of the southern mountains as he had seen them from the moor-top hill: clear, stark, terrible, inviting – a world awaiting exploration.

He opened his eyes abruptly. No. That was nothing but a dream.

Meeting the Trow had altered everything for Halli. Above all, it had corroborated the tales of Svein. The hero's lustre, which over recent weeks had been all but extinguished, shone for him once more – if not as bright as it had once been, at least bright enough.

What had Svein done? He had roamed the moors just as Halli had; he too had fought the Trows up there. But in the end he had turned his back on the lands beyond, and died protecting his House and valley. Halli had no desire to emulate the harsher aspects of Svein's rule, but the message that the stories gave was clear. It was his House, his family, and he knew what he had to do.

Halli looked towards the drapes. He took a deep breath.

He pushed the drapes aside and went into the hall.

From dais to porch, from hearth to wall, almost everyone from the House had gathered there in the dawn half-light, and every person, by shared, unspoken instinct, carried an item of defence. There were men with mattocks and scythes, billhooks and flails. women with hoes, rakes and sharp, curved sickles. Older children held spades, forks and shovels; younger ones had cudgels made from wood scraps found in carpenters' workshops. Sturla and Ketil each had long oak staves, Kugi the sty-boy a menacing dung-rake, and even Gudrun the goat-girl, watching timorously from near the door, held a rusty shard of metal, perhaps from some ancient ploughshare.

The noise of the crowd rose and fell like a living thing. Everyone looked to the dais, where the Law Seats stood. They waited for the Founder's family to emerge.

In the shadows beside the dais, Halli discovered Gudny and Snorri. Aud was not there; her hand and ankle were being re-dressed in Katla's room.

Snorri, who had finished his third helping of breakfast, and was still chewing on a heel of bread, acknowledged Halli's arrival with a nod. He gestured around the hall. 'It is the same as ever with the warlike Sveinssons! See their weapons bristling like nettles after rain!'

'They're scared, that's all!' Gudny said indignantly. 'We are a peaceable folk.'

'Tell that to the dead men in the mounds beside my hut! Look at those infants with their little knives – I shan't bend to tie my boots lest they cut my throat!'

Halli's emergence had been noticed by the crowd; silence fell like a cloak. One or two people coughed, otherwise all was still.

Gudny glanced at the drapes, lips white with tension. '
Where
is Leif ?'

Halli shrugged. 'Still dousing his head in the trough, most likely.'

'That's all we need! Halli, go up and talk to them.'

'
Me?
They hate me! There'll be a riot.'

'Well, we can't wait any—'

With sudden violence the drapes were cast aside. From the darkness of the passage strode Leif, his face flushed pink, his eyes red-rimmed. His hair, still dripping from the trough, hung lank upon his brow. Blinking a little at the brightness stealing through the windows, he took brief stock of the multitude in the hall. Uttering a curse beneath his breath, he passed Halli and Gudny without a word, bounded up the steps and loped across the dais to the Law Seats, where he sat in Arnkel's chair.

Leif smoothed back his hair with a flick of the wrist and jutted his chin assertively. He cleared his throat and, chest swelling, opened his mouth to speak.

A voice from the crowd: 'You're not Arbiter yet! Get up from there!'

'Arnkel still lives!' cried another. 'You bring bad luck upon us!'

'Where is Arnkel? Let
him
speak! Where is Astrid?'

'Get up from there!'

At first Leif remained defiantly where he was, but as the protest swelled, and his attempts at speaking went unheard, he thrust himself up from the chair and stalked to the front of the dais, to stand glowering at the people. Gradually the tumult quieted.

Leif shook his head contemptuously. 'Thank you! I'll remind you that I am acting Arbiter, as my father is so ill, and you would do well to be deferential to your leader, especially in such troubled times. Now, I know why you're here: odd rumours have spread during the night and it is time we looked into them. But I'm sure we shall have no need of any of
that
.' He waved his hand at the motley assortment of weaponry arrayed before him. 'So, where is the man who started all this? A stranger, I believe . . . Ah, you? Come here.'

Slowly, hesitantly, and with one or two prods from Halli, Snorri shuffled onto the platform, still gnawing on his bread. In daylight, and without the shielding cloak, his clothes were revealed as little more than rags held together by grime and habit; in places the holes outnumbered the shreds of cloth. Without haste or ceremony, the old man came to a diffident halt beside Leif, who stood, arms folded, resplendent in his official tunic of silver-black.

'Your name?' Leif said.

A chew of bread, a final swallow. 'Snorri.'

'Of which House?'

'None.'

Leif 's mouth curled. 'So you are a beggar then?'

Snorri's eyebrows jutted indignantly. 'Not at all! I have my beets, my hovel, my little strip of land. I bother no one and hold allegiance to myself alone.'

'Well, well,' Leif said. 'I am sorry for you. Now—'

'Why? I am content in my poverty. Better that than to be an arrogant popinjay who smells of beer, and who, if the reputation of the Sveinssons is correct, gargles daily with his own—'

Halli came hurrying over from the side of the platform. 'Enough of these pleasantries! Let us concentrate on the essentials! We haven't got much time!'

A few hisses had risen from the crowd at Halli's appearance; weapons were flourished in the air. Raising a heavy hand to subdue the noise, Leif said, 'Yes, enough from
you
, Halli – we don't need your interference. All right, old man, tell us your story, but I warn you, if you breathe one word of a lie, I'll whip you from here to the Snag. Go on.'

Snorri was silent a moment, but when he spoke his voice was clear and calm. 'How graciously put that was, the words of a true leader. I'm sorely tempted to leave you all to be murdered in your beds, but I owe Halli Sveinsson here a favour. He did me a kindness once and showed me courtesy too. So regardless of this shambling clod beside me, I'll repeat myself once more: the Hakonssons are coming and will be here this very night. Well, that's it. Goodbye and good luck to you.'

He turned to go, but was restrained by Leif 's grasp upon his collar. 'A little more detail, if you please,' Leif growled. 'How do you
know
this? How is it possible? The gorge is blocked with snow. No one can climb from the lower valley yet!'

'Nonetheless, twenty men have done so. I saw them all.'

'Impossible!'

'Well, you seem to know far more about it than me,' Snorri said. 'Don't forget to be similarly assertive when Hord is hanging you in the yard.'

Leif 's face grew black with rage; still holding the old man by the collar, he shook him vigorously. 'You cur! Speak plainly, or I swear
you'll
be the one hanging.'

Halli leaped forward. 'Get your hands off him! He's a guest in this House!'

'Yes, and if you shake any harder all my rags will fall off,' Snorri added. 'Do you
want
my bony nakedness displayed? There are women and children here.'

With an oath, Leif loosened his fingers and drew away. 'Well, get on with it!'

Halli said, 'Please, Snorri. It is important that they all hear what you've told me.'

Fingering his throat, Snorri spoke resentfully. 'Will I get another hot meal?'

'One, two – as many as you wish!'

'Will that sweet old woman serve it? The one who dressed my wounds?'

'What sweet old—? Oh, you mean Katla? Great Svein. Yes! I'm sure she will, now please—'

'Very well.' Snorri looked out across the hall at the attentive throng. 'For Halli's sake, I'll tell you. Two days ago, in the waning of the afternoon, when the mists rose up from the grave mounds by the road, I was out burying rats in the corner of my plot. There is still much snow upon the fields down there. As I scraped and patted, I saw dark shapes approaching in the mists, strange shadows, helmeted, with swords hanging at their sides. I thought it was ghosts from the grave mound, come to steal my beets; of course I drew my knife – the one young Halli gave me – and stood firm, ready to sell my life. To my astonishment, out from the mist stepped mortal men, weary, rime-caked, with ice upon their whiskers and their pigtails frozen hard. Each wore a helmet, not unlike that one behind me . . .' He pointed a withered finger at Svein's battered helm hanging on the wall above the Seats. As one, the crowd raised their heads to look; as one, they gasped.

'Their helmets were newly forged,' Snorri went on, 'their tunics covered with coats of mail. I could see the links were fine and strong, though thickly crusted with ice. At their belts, each had a sword; over their shoulders, light packs hung frozen. Their tunics showed scarlet beneath their jerkins – it was the red of Hakon's House!'

Whether it was the old man's words or the emotion with which he uttered them, the people in Svein's hall stood rapt; not a murmur could be heard.

Snorri drew his rags across his spindly chest, rested a hand upon his knife and continued. 'I could not withstand twenty warriors, sturdy as I am. They bound me and took me to my hut, which they commandeered. At first the leader – Hord Hakonsson, as I know him now – believed I was of your House; he was tempted to run me through. Only when I protested my fervent dislike of all your many vices did he let me go. I was made to prepare good food, while the men huddled near my fire. I kept quiet, listened to their words. I gathered they had scaled the gorge alone, without horses, clambering up endless shelves of thick blue ice above the frozen falls. It took them four days, and nearly cost them their lives; Hord himself had almost plummeted into the abyss on one occasion, but his son had grasped his arm, clung on and pulled him out. None of the men were lost and only three were injured. By the sounds of it, their ascent was a great feat, worthy of the old heroes. Certainly their morale is high.'