The Long Hunt (The Strongbow Saga) (15 page)

"But I also know him from many years ago. Arinbjorn is an old man now, and rarely leaves Mon except to cross the strait to Sjaelland, to visit with the king. But as a young man he was a great warrior, and he and my father sometimes raided together, in the Austmarr. As a boy, I spent a summer here on Mon—it was the year before I was fostered in Halland, in the household of Thorfinn, a chieftain there who was a comrade and ally of my father. I stayed here, in Arinbjorn's household, while he and my father went raiding for the summer."

As he spoke, Hastein's eyes took on a far-away look, and his mouth a faint hint of a smile. I wondered if the summer on Mon had been a happy time for him.

"What did Aki mean when he said you were
that
boy?" Hastein frowned at me, as if he thought me impertinent to ask.

Stig nodded. "Aye, I wondered that, too."

"It was of no consequence," Hastein said.  After a few moments, when we kept staring at him expectantly, he added, "There was a girl."

Stig grinned. "Aye, there would have been," he said.

*   *   *

Jarl Arinbjorn was, as Hastein had said, now an old man, but he wore his years lightly. His carriage was erect—age had not bowed him, as it had Aki—and he looked still fit enough to wield a sword or spear, and bear the weight of mail brynie, helm, and shield. His hair and beard were a yellowish-white in color, but they looked well-groomed—the beard trimmed close around the line of his jaw, and his hair, which still fully covered the top of his head, was straight and tangle-free, and had been cut so that it hung just above the top of his shoulders.

He seemed genuinely glad to see Hastein. "I was pleased to hear that you came safely through the campaign in Frankia, and won much silver from the Franks, besides. Though a great victory, it sounded as though the battle fought with their army was won at the cost of many lives."

"You have already heard about the campaign?" Hastein asked, sounding surprised.

Arinbjorn nodded. "At Horik's court. It is fortunate you did not arrive sooner. We only returned to Mon four days ago."

Arinbjorn turned and waved his hand at a young man standing behind him, indicating he should come forward. "This is Sigurd. He is Ragnar's youngest son. He is fostered here with me. When Ragnar arrived at Horik's estate, upon returning to Denmark from Frankia, the king summoned us to come to the feasts he held to honor Ragnar, and to celebrate the victory over the Franks. And there was another matter he wished to discuss with me, as well. Concerning the Sveas."

I was surprised to learn that Ragnar had a son so young. Though nearing manhood, Sigurd looked to be younger than me. His two brothers, Ivar and Bjorn, who had helped command the army on the Frankia campaign, were many years older than he.  Sigurd's hair was a light, yellowish tan, the color of sand, as was Ivar's, and he had Ivar's lean build, too, rather than Bjorn's stockiness. There was something strange about his right eye, though I could not make out what it was.

"This is Stig, one of my captains," Hastein said, as Stig stepped forward and nodded to Arinbjorn and Sigurd. To Arinbjorn, Hastein added, "You may have met Stig when he was with me at the meeting of the council on Sjaelland in the spring." Arinbjorn and Sigurd nodded back to Stig.

"And this is one of my warriors, Halfdan son of Hrorik," Hastein continued. "If you have already heard tales of the campaign in Frankia, you may have heard of him. He is also known as Strongbow."

Arinbjorn looked at me appraisingly. "Ah, so you are the one who with his mighty bow saved Ragnar the Raven-king."

"Raven-king?" Hastein asked.

"It is the name they were calling Ragnar, at the feasts," Arinbjorn explained. "I believe it was coined by one of Horik's skalds, in a poem he is composing about the campaign. Something to do with Ragnar's victory as war-king in Frankia, and how he fed the ravens with the dead of our enemies, and perhaps it has to do with that bird of his, as well. In truth, it sounds better than Hairy-breeches."

I felt embarrassed by Hastein's introduction of me, and of the tales that apparently were being told about me, but tried not to show it. If Hastein wished to present me as a potential chieftain, I must try to play my part, even if I did not believe it.

"It is an honor to meet you, Jarl Arinbjorn," I said, nodding to him.

"What brings you to Mon?" Arinbjorn asked Hastein.

"We are hunting a man whose life carries a heavy blood debt. I was hoping that if he passed by Mon, you or your men might know."

Arinbjorn shrugged. "Perhaps," he said. "We do keep watch over the straits. It is the scot King Horik asks of me: to be the eyes of the realm in the south. Primarily we watch for Vendish raiders—they have been growing bolder in recent years. I have sufficient warriors here on Mon, and ships, to turn back small raids, or to kill the raiders if they are not wise enough to flee. Thus far the Vends have never attacked in great force, but if they should, we have great bonfires laid atop the cliffs to light as warning beacons. The cliffs are high enough for the fires to be seen in Sjaelland, and on Falster, and beacons there would be lit to spread the warning to the west and north."

"I had noticed that your war-band seems quite large," Hastein said.

"Some of the warriors and ships are provided by King Horik. He considers it to his advantage to stop any raiders from the south here at Mon, at the edge of his kingdom."

"Two of your ships approached mine when we entered the waters around Mon. Do they examine every ship that passes so closely?"

"It depends on which of the captains are out in the straits. Some are more inquisitive than others. But they do so more often than they do not. This man you are seeking—how was he traveling?"

Hastein turned to me and nodded.

"He sails with two longships," I said. "One has a dragon's head carved like the head of an eagle, painted red with a golden beak. She has sixteen pairs of oars. The other is smaller, just fourteen pairs, and her dragon's head is gilded, and carved like the head of a stallion. Both ships would have been manned by very light crews."

"That last is a thing that would draw notice," Arinbjorn said, nodding. "This man is a chieftain, then? These are his ships?"

"They are."

"And his name?" Arinbjorn asked.

Hastein answered him. "His name is Toke. He does not yet know for certain that we are pursuing him. We would keep that unknown to him as long as possible."

"I will send word out to all of my captains, asking if any have seen these two ships. They do not need to know why I am asking. If any do recall seeing them, I will ask that they come here, to my hall, so you may question them. We will know by mid-day tomorrow.

"And tonight," he added, "we will feast together."

To my great surprise, at the feast I was invited by Jarl Arinbjorn to sit at the high table. It was the first of several surprises that night.

Two of his captains, plus Hastein, Stig, Hrodgar, and I joined Arinbjorn and his wife at the high table. Women from the jarl's household—all comely, and save Arinbjorn's wife all young—were paired with each of us.  As the guest of honor, Hastein was given the place to Arinbjorn's right. The jarl's wife sat at her husband's left side, with young Sigurd beside her. I was seated to the left of Sigurd.

"My name is Asny," a young woman said who sat down on the bench beside me. She was holding a drinking horn whose silver rim around its mouth was carved with the design of a long dragon, its tail entwined around its body. I recognized the design as similar to that on the banners flown by the two ships we'd encountered approaching Mon. The horn was filled almost to the brim with dark brown ale. "I am your horn partner for the feast."

I did not know how to respond. In part, I was startled by having this young woman suddenly appear at my side, and sit herself beside me. The fact that she was very comely did not help my confusion. I found myself staring at her features, admiring them, when I should have been coming up with some courteous reply. "Horn partner?" I finally managed to say.

Asny smiled, barely suppressing a laugh. "You are not familiar with the custom?" she asked.

I shook my head. "My name is Halfdan," I belatedly added. "I am pleased to meet you."

"Are you the son of Jarl Hastein?" she asked. I was confused by her question and could not understand why she might think so.

"No," I replied. "I am just one of his warriors."

Now she looked confused.   "You seem very…"

"Young, to be seated at the high table?" I suggested. She blushed and nodded.

Sigurd leaned over across the body of the young woman who had taken the seat by his side. She did not seem to mind. "He is called Strongbow," he told Asny. "He won much honor in the recent campaign down in Frankia." He sat back and placed his arm around the shoulder of his horn partner. "This is Saeunn," he said, introducing her to me. I nodded in greeting to her. She had red hair, hanging in two long braids down her chest, and very striking green eyes. She looked to be several years older than Sigurd. "I requested that you sit with me this night," he told me.

That, I thought, at least explains why I am at the high table.

Just then Jarl Arinbjorn stood up. The great feast hall gradually grew silent, as its occupants realized he was standing.

"We welcome honored guests this night, and hold this feast to celebrate their visit to Mon," he announced, in a deep, strong voice that carried throughout the hall. "This is Jarl Hastein of the Limfjord district. He is the son of an old and cherished comrade of mine, Jarl Eirik. His father and I bloodied our swords together many times. Jarl Hastein helped command our victorious army in Frankia. Hopefully he will share tales of that campaign with us this night." Raising high the drinking horn he held in his right hand, Arinbjorn continued. "Stand, and join me now in a toast to Jarl Hastein."

All in the feast hall rose to their feet. Beside me, Asny held out the drinking horn for me to take.

"To Jarl Hastein," Arinbjorn called out. "To Jarl Hastein," all the menfolk in the hall echoed, then like Arinbjorn took a drink of ale.

"Now give the horn back to me," Asny instructed. At Arinbjorn's side, his wife—a dignified looking woman who looked to be close in age to him—raised the horn she now held and repeated, "To Jarl Hastein." In unison with the rest of the women at the high table, and others scattered throughout the hall at other tables, Asny said, "To Jarl Hastein," then took a drink from the horn. Turning to me, she smiled and said, "You see? That is how it is done."

Hastein, of course, responded with a toast to honor Jarl Arinbjorn, and the process was repeated. Then, to my relief, Arinbjorn sat down, and the women-folk and thralls working at the central hearth began serving the meal.

I quickly realized that one advantage of being seated at the high table was that its occupants were served first. In so large a hall, those sitting at one of the outer tables would have a long wait for their food.

It was a very fine meal. We were given wooden platters, pottery bowls, and spoons. The serving thralls brought around great pots filled with a hearty soup made with cabbage, carrots, and turnips, then came again with large platters on which were arrayed large sections of roasted leg of mutton. The servers held the platters steady at each place, so the diners could use their eating knives to carve off as much as they wished.

There is a thing about drinking horns. Hastein had given me one, a very fine one, at the funeral feast in Frankia after our victory over the Frankish army. I had not used it since that night, preferring to use a cup instead. A horn filled with ale or other drink cannot be set down. While impressive looking and useful, perhaps, for drinking bouts where many toasts are to be made, a horn is not convenient when one wishes to eat, also.

After carving off a slab of mutton for myself, I had to serve Asny as well, for she could not manage the task while holding the drinking horn.  It was apparent that she would not be able to slice her own meat, either.

"Do we pass the horn between us, and take turns eating?" I asked her. I hoped I would not have to feed her, too.

"That could be done," she said. "But in truth, it is not the custom.  I will give the horn to you, so you will not have to delay satisfying your thirst whenever you wish. And I will cut your meat for you."

It was a strange way to eat a meal, so dependent on another like that, but after a bit, I found it not at all unpleasant. In order to attend to my needs, Asny had to sit close beside me on the bench, her thigh touching mine. She had a scent that reminded me of freshly cut summer hay.

It was obvious that Sigurd and his companion, Saeunn, had been horn partners before. They seemed very familiar with each other, laughing and talking as they ate, and feeding each other bites of food. I wished I could have as free and confident a manner as Sigurd did. Although I was feeling more at ease than at first, and was enjoying Asny's company, I did not find it easy to make casual conversation with someone I did not know. And I sensed that to Asny, being my horn partner for the feast was more a duty than a pleasure. Although unfailingly courteous, when she smiled, she did so only with her mouth— her eyes rarely joined in. She was, I learned, a daughter of one of Jarl Arinbjorn's captains. Perhaps she felt it beneath her to be paired with a mere warrior, and such a young one, besides.

Glancing out across the hall, my eyes happened to meet those of Floki, from the estate. He and his brother, Baug, were seated near the end of a table in the second row out from the center of the hall. What do you think of me sitting here, at the high table, I wondered? Does it gall you to see me thus honored? Holding his gaze, I raised the horn to him and took a drink.  After a few moments, he raised his cup back to me in response and drank, then looked away.

"Who is that man?" Asny asked.

"He was one of my brother's housecarls."

"Was?"

"My brother is dead."

"Whom does he follow now?" she asked.

"On this voyage, Jarl Hastein."