11: THE NEXT MOVE
Halfdan lay on his belly on a dark farm-field, on barley-stubble left from the harvest, not moving at all. His breathing was slow. The ax was in one hand. After a long wait, Halfdan slowly lifted his arm and moved it slightly forward. Slowly, he laid it down. He did not move again until after taking many slow, steady breaths. Then he slowly moved his other arm forward. Slowly lifted a leg forward. A long pause, then he shifted his other leg forward. He lay still for a long time. A silent bird fluttered past in the dim space over Uncle Harald's farmland. Halfdan raised his head and torso; slowly moved forward, a bit. He lowered himself again to the ground and was still for a long, long time. He was heading up-wind, so his uncle's dogs would not catch his smell and start barking.
Yngvild was behind him, in the dark woods where they had spent most of the afternoon watching the farm. It was possible that King Lambi's killers knew where Halfdan's family lived; it was possible that their fighters were waiting for Halfdan to show up here, to kill or arrest him. But he and Yngvild had seen nothing to raise suspicion. Staying concealed, they had searched all of the woods that circled the small property where he had grown up. They had watched Uncle Harald limping out of the well-made oak-plank house, and had watched him set up an iron-forge behind the chicken-shed and wait for the charcoal fire to get blue-hot. There was a loud clanging sound as his hammer pounded a red-hot piece of iron. Halfdan's Aunt Anna -- the sister of his father -- had brought out a plate of food and a cup of beer, and her husband took a break. Even from a distance, both of them had looked older than he remembered. He had not been home in a long time, as earlier mentioned. Halfdan and Yngvild had watched Aunt Anna drag a heavy basket out the front door and hang rugs and drapes and wall-coverings over a pole, then use a paddle to knock out dust. When it had started getting dark, both went inside; soon a line of smoke twisted up from the hole in the grass-covered roof. Halfdan had waited for full darkness, then started a slow crawl towards the house.
King Lambi had taught him this and many other military skills. Halfdan could hear King Lambi's voice in his ears, "The way to be invisible is to move very slowly. Motion is what attracts eyes. You can avoid being noticed, even on open ground, by moving slow enough. Your body might be visible, but it won't be noticed -- until you put your iron into the foe's guts."
Halfdan was looking ahead very closely, hearing King Lambi's ghostly voice in his ears say, "Divide all that you can see into sections, and look at each section in turn, paying attention to every detail. Look at each one of the sections of your view as closely as you can, and made sure you check all of them, even if it seems impossible for a foe to be hiding there. And don't look just to the front -- when you get the chance, look backwards to see any foe sneaking from behind."
Not wanting to make motion by turning his head, Halfdan could not look behind him during his crawl across the field of barley-stubble. He only looked forward, at the familiar farmhouse and its surroundings. Yngvild was guarding his back. Her task was to watch from her forest hiding-place and, if he was attacked, to use her arrows to protect him.
It took Halfdan half the night to make it across the dark field to the farmhouse. He crouched by the door, which was decorated with a sheep's body hanging by its cut neck from a bronze hook -- a sacrifice to Freya. (His relatives were devout, but had failed to spread their love of the gods to him.) Halfdan put his ear to the thick wood of the door and listened.
Nothing at first. Then, the faint sound of Harald snoring. There seemed no other noise. It was unlikely that foes had spent all of the afternoon in the house while his aunt and uncle were going about their business outside, but possible. He strained his ears to catch the sounds of armed, awake men waiting for him: iron clinking, boots scraping on the dirt floor, whispering, burping, farting, sighs of boredom. But there was nothing but Harald's faint, recognizable snore.
Still crouching, so his full height would not be visible at the door, Halfdan raised his ax and tapped the square-end of its heavy blade onto the door.
The snoring inside stopped. After a while, there was a rustling sound on the other side of the door, and Halfdan heard his uncle say, "Is somebody out there?"
Hearing that gruff voice, Halfdan smiled. In a voice barely loud enough to be heard through the door, he said:
No life here but a lazy owl
Who's hungry but won't hunt
Good man, I beg a meal
Open your house, toss me a mouse!
Aunt Anna's voice cried out inside, "It's Halfdan!"
The sound of the door-latch raising, and the door opened to show the sleepy-looking faces of his aunt and uncle. His aunt looked delighted to see him, squealing, "Come in!" But Harald looked nervous, glancing over Halfdan's shoulder. Harald grabbed his nephew's sleeve and pulled him inside. As Anna hugged him, Harald slid the wooden latch on the door shut.
Uncle Harald said, "Too many syllables in the last line."
Aunt Anna said, "Oh, Harald, do you expect a hungry owl to follow all the rules of poetry?"
Halfdan felt the strength in his uncle's grip as they shook hands.
"I'm glad to see you alive," Uncle Harald said. He was a thick-bodied man, with a wide, grey-bearded face and watery blue eyes. People said that he was one of the best farmers in Os; he not only fed his family, but had earned and saved enough silver over the years to buy a farm for both of his two sons, and to pay a good dowry on his daughter's wedding-day, and to pay Halfdan's admittance-fee for joining the hall in Eid. He was one of the richest and most-respected men in Os. He was the closest thing to a father Halfdan had known, and had taught Halfdan a lot.
Aunt Anna was thin, a bit taller than her husband, with hands that fluttered at her sides when she talked. There was a scar from a horse-kick on the left side of her face, which she usually hid under her hair-cloth. She had been the only mother Halfdan had ever known -- treating him the same as her natural children, comforting him the many times he came home in tears over some other child calling him a "black troll," praising his earliest poems -- and he loved her greatly.
This place had been Halfdan's home for many years. The house was much the same as when Halfdan was a boy. It was a single room, windowless except for the smoke-hole in the roof, with low platforms for sitting and sleeping along both of the side-walls. A long, central fireplace with still-glowing embers gave off some light, as did the beeswax candle that Aunt Anna lit and put onto a low table near them.
She said, "Something to eat? We're all out of mice, dear, but there might be some cheese and smoked salmon."
"Yes, please," Halfdan said, sitting on the platform and resting his ax on the floor.
As she took the food from a wood chest and put it onto the little table, Halfdan told them what had happened in Eid and how he had run away.
"We heard about the hall-burning, and that only a black-looking fighter escaped," Harald said. "When the Sogn horsemen came here, they asked folk about you, but nobody told them that this is your home-town."
"Have they come here?"
"They have, demanding silver and searching the house. But they did that to everybody. I don't think that they are likely to come back, at least until next tax-time. You can hide out here as long as you need. Right, Anna?"
"Of course. Now, eat."
As Halfdan took bread and piled it with slices of yellow sheep-cheese and smelly pink fish, he said, "I'm not going to stay here and put you two in danger."
"Then what are you going to do?"
"Get revenge."
Aunt Anna's happy expression changed to worry.
Uncle Harald said, "Isn't killing two kings a bit ambitious?"
"Right. So I came here to get help. There must be men around here who aren't happy with what happened."
"Nobody is happy about it," Uncle Harald. "Lambi was a great ruler, one of us. But that doesn't mean that folk are eager to get killed for the memory of a dead man."
Aunt Anna said, "And the pains in your uncle's leg have gotten worse; he can barely walk most days, never mind trying to fight. Isn't that right, Harald?"
He looked embarrassed and scowled. "Quiet. My leg is strong enough to fight, if I so decide. In the Swedish War, there were a lot of older men -- older than I am now -- who spilled their share of blood."
"Oh, Harald," she said, shaking her head.
Halfdan said, "Uncle, I don't want to you to join me in this. You wouldn't be able to keep up. And I don't want to take you away from Aunt Anna. I want young, single, ambitious men. You've done your fighting; stay here and enjoy your farm and your grandchildren. How are Einar and Endre?" -- the twin sons of Halfdan's foster-sister.
Aunt Anna beamed and said, "So cute and so smart! Barely a year old, and both of them can say 'cake' and 'no' and 'up' and some other words. Endre will peacefully stare at the fire for hours, like you would, though Einar is more of an active-type and likes to crawl all over the place, putting all he can into his mouth. You haven't seen them yet, have you?"
"Not yet. I was planning to come back this summer to see them, and you two, but other things kept getting in the way and I kept putting it off. Sorry."
"I know that Lise --" Halfdan's foster-sister "-- would love a chance to show off the babies to you. It's amazing how they can make folk laugh. So cute! Maybe it would inspire some ideas in you. Yes, that was a hint. You need a woman who will make you want to settle down and have babies."
Halfdan rolled his eyes, saying nothing about Yngvild.
Harald said, "Tell me about your plans. How many men do you need?"
"As many as possible," Halfdan said. "And I'd like your help."
"You want me to go around to all the young, single, ambitious men around here -- those who can be trusted to keep their mouths shut -- and recruit them for you."
"Yes. Tell them I want to meet them tomorrow night."
"Where?"
"I was thinking about near the sacred swamp. Nobody goes there at night."
"The gods might be offended by you using their sanctuary for that. It might bring bad luck. And folk might get lost trying to get there in the dark. A better place would be at your parents' memorial-stone."
Halfdan had not been there for many years. He said, "Good. We'll meet there, pick a leader and leave. Each of them is to bring weapons, blankets, food and water-containers."
"What about horses?"
"We'll have to stay off the roads. No horses."
"Anything else?"
"No."
"Fine, I'll do it tomorrow," Harald said. "Now it's very late. Let's talk about it more in the morning."
Halfdan said, "I'm not sleeping here. Too dangerous."
Harald said, "Nonsense! I told you, nobody told the new rulers that you were from around here. There's no chance of anybody showing up here tonight to search the place. You're safe here."
Halfdan said, "I mean, it's too dangerous for you. If a neighbour sees me and later tells a fighter from Sogn or Førde that I was here, they'll kill both of you for giving me shelter. We are dealing with bad men."
Aunt Anna said, "Halfdan, this is all sounding too crazy. Can't you just go into exile for a while? Come back when things have calmed down?"
"I thought about that," Halfdan said. "But if I don't do this, there will be nothing for me. Wherever I go, I'll find nothing to live for. I made a vow to King Lambi and must keep it."
She said, "Is that it, or are you just worried that people will say you weren't brave enough?"
"Don't try to talk me out of it."
"Anna," Uncle Harald said, putting a big, sun-browned hand on her thin, paler hand, "let Halfdan do what he thinks he has to do. He's not a child anymore. And he made a vow."
"To a man who is now dead. He just said some words, which the wind blew away as soon as they were spoken. Is that a good reason to risk death?"
Halfdan said:
No life can last longer
Than all-ruling fate allows
When a debt to death is due
Do not fear to disappear
Aunt Anna, unhappy, said nothing.
Uncle Harald said, "Did you make that one up?"
"No," Halfdan said.
"I know your style too well to be fooled. Whose is it?"
"King Lambi's."
Uncle Harald said, "People say that he could see into the future. Lambi probably foresaw how his life would end. That poem sounds like he did." A thought came to Uncle Harald and he scowled. "I just remembered something that I heard when I was at the market," he said. "I don't know how true it is, but someone who had come from Eid told it to me. Apparently, King Njal of Sogn went digging around in the ashes of the hall and found King Lambi's body. It was burnt and charred, but they could recognize his jewellery and sword."
Halfdan put his hands over his eyes.
"What did they do to it?"
"I'm sorry to have to tell you this. Well, the man said that Njal cut off the head of King Lambi's burnt body and tied it to the saddle on his horse, like a decoration. He rides around everywhere with King Lambi's fire-black skull hanging there, bouncing beside his leg."
Aunt Anna said, "Why would anyone do such a nasty thing?"
Uncle Harald shrugged.
"I can figure it out," Halfdan said, the look in his eyes turning hard. "It's proof of the change in government. And to make folk afraid. The kings of Sogn and Førde will rule by fear until one or both of them gets elected king of Fjordane and makes their rule legitimate."
"Election-time is almost a year away," Uncle Harald said. "They want to keep everybody poor and terrified until then. It makes sense -- nobody in Fjordane wants our kingdom turned into a vassal-state of Sogn and Førde, and the only way to get us to vote for Njal and/or Gunvald as king is through hard oppression. Making all Fjordane-folk too intimidated to campaign for the kingship against those bloody-handed outlander shits."
Aunt Anna said to Halfdan, "If exile is out of the question, then I hope you kill them all."
"I'll try," Halfdan said.
No more is recorded of their conversation. When Halfdan left, carrying a bag of food and the ax, he walked slowly back across the harvested farm-field; back to where Yngvild -- sitting with her back to a tree, bow and arrows still in her hands -- had fallen asleep.
Halfdan covered her legs and belly with a blanket, then crouched to look closely at her shadowy face for a long time.
In sleep, she looked beautiful, gentle and peaceful.
When early sunlight woke her, he was still awake, still looking closely at her.
Squinting, she smiled up at him and said, "How did it go?"
"Fine."
"So what's next?"
Yngvild was as beautiful awake as sleeping -- but not as gentle, not as peaceful.
"Let's go," he said.
The memorial-stone, and others much like it, were on some flat ground near a bend in a path up to the mountains. Other than an occasional shepherd bringing a herd to or from pasture, few used this out-of-the-way path. The runes on the man-sized chunk of rough grey granite sticking from the ground read:
G