Snow-Walker

Twenty-Four

Daring is the thing for a fighting man to be remembered by.

Hakon staggered into the storehouse and dumped the logs onto the floor. They toppled and rolled; he kicked them to stillness and wiped the sweat from his face with the back of his good hand. Wearily he crouched, dragged the wood out, and began to arrange it crisscross.

His back ached and his shoulders felt like knots of pain and he’d only been back since last night. They’d been saving all the filthy jobs up; Gretta, Skuli’s wife, was good at that. Even though it took him twice as long as anybody else … but then she had something to moan about. All day he’d been lugging wood, cutting peats, dragging food out for the pigs and even now, when the children were in bed and the wine jug going around, he still hadn’t finished.

He threw the last log down and sat listening to the ragged singing in the house. Celebrating Skuli’s luck. Skuli, Vidar’s man.

Then he turned quickly. Something had stirred in the dark corner where the horse harness hung, some slight movement, a chink of metal. He backed to the door.

“Stay where you are, Hakon. And don’t shout.”

Something rose from the straw, a shadowy wraith. As it came forward through a slant of moonlight, he saw her, a girl, splashed and bedraggled. Shadows flowed over her. His fingers clenched with fear.

“Jessa? Gods, Jessa, how can it be you!”

She grinned at him. “Thought I was a ghost, did you?”

“You ought to be! Vidar said you were dead. He said he saw it happen!”

“The creature tore me to pieces, I suppose.”

“He’s even got your coat. It’s all slashed.”

She shook her head and sat down wearily, leaning forward over her knees.

He crouched beside her. “You mean it was all a lie?”

“Of course it was, weak brain!” She looked up fiercely. “For Thorssake, Hakon, haven’t you got something I can eat? I’m dying of hunger!”

He grinned at her happily. “I’ll bet you are. And look at you! Where have you been?”

She was filthy, her hair tangled, torn from its braids; her face and clothes stained and soaked with rain.

“Come into the house with me. They’ll be glad—”

“No.”

She watched him; he saw the sudden wariness.

“No one is to know I’m here. No one. It’s vital. Is Skuli back?”

“He’s still at the Jarlshold. He sent me back by myself.”

“All the better.”

“Jessa,” he said urgently, “what’s going on?”

“Get me some food and I’ll explain.”

He pulled a doubtful face. “I’m a thrall, remember. I only get what they give me.”

“You’ll manage,” Jessa said, scratching her hair. “If you don’t, I may end up eating you.”

She managed a wan smile, and he laughed and nodded and went out.

Jessa waited, bone weary. She was so tired she could hardly keep awake, but the hunger was the worst. Where was he?

For a moment of panic she thought he might be telling them all she was there, and her hand drifted to the knife hilt. If he did that she was finished. Both of them, probably. It was an unpleasant idea, and it wouldn’t go away. She dragged herself up, slid behind the door and stood there, aching all over.

After a few moments the door swung open. Arms full, he looked around. “Where are you?”

She stepped out. “What have you got?”

Hakon looked surprised. Then he turned and put the things down.

“So you didn’t trust me?” he said bitterly.

“Trusting people isn’t easy anymore, Hakon, not after what I’ve seen. Cheese!” She snatched a chunk before he had given her the platter. On it were three slices of barley bread, some goat’s cheese, and a few strips of smoked fish. She ate quickly, glancing at the jug of water he put down. “Thanks. It’s better than a feast!”

“And I’ve brought you some clothes. Until yours are dry.”

He put down a threadbare shirt and some trousers.

“Yours?”

“Yes. You’re lucky. They’re clean.”

She swallowed and gave him a brief smile. “Good. Turn your back.”

While she dressed, she said, “Tell me what happened. First of all, is Wulfgar alive?”

Hakon nodded. “As far as I know. He was last night. Skapti is with him all the time.”

She laughed suddenly, a crow of delight, then sat down and went on eating. “Is he? The rogue. Well, go on.”

He broke off a corner of the cheese and nibbled it. “I should have brought a lamp.”

“Never mind that! Go on!”

Hakon shrugged, turning to look at her. “Vidar told the people about how the creature attacked you and Wulfgar. He showed them your coat.”

“And they believed him?”

“Of course. So did I. Jessa, if it wasn’t the creature…”

She shook her head sharply. “There was no creature. Vidar stabbed Wulfgar in the back. Deliberately. And now I’ve put you in as much danger as I am, because in all the world, Hakon, we’re the only ones who know it.”

He stared at her, utterly astounded. “The priest is a traitor?”

“More than a traitor. A murderer. And I think he plans to be the next Jarl.”

Quickly she described to him what had happened, the struggle in the muffled, mossy gloom of the clearing, her escape up the rocks, the nightmare of the cave. As she told him how the creature’s arm had groped for her he looked at her strangely, but said nothing until she had finished. Then he nodded slowly.

“Skapti and the men must have got there before the priest had time to do any more. But Jessa, Vidar stirred up the people at the hold. He told them it was all Kari Ragnarsson’s fault, that his sorcery had brought the creature. Then he had Kari and the big man—”

“Brochael.”

“Yes … he had them chained up.”

In the dimness, she drew a quick breath. “And Kari let this happen?”

“Could he have stopped them?”

She laughed briefly. “Of course he could, if he wanted. I see how it was—he didn’t want to touch their minds.”

“He touched Vidar’s!” Tossing down the straw he’d been bending, he told her about the sudden power that had pushed the priest back, his sprawled, screaming agony.

“He can do that, yes. But he told me he wouldn’t.”

“Then he lied. As for touching minds, he almost broke into mine.”

She stared at him. “You?”

“I tried to tell you at the hunt. He wouldn’t let me. Jessa, the night before, Kari came into the hall with those two spirit birds of his. Everyone but me was asleep. The creature came to the door. Kari … did something to the door. Its arm came through, Jessa; he touched it. He spoke to it.”

She was listening intently. “That doesn’t mean—”

“He touched it! He was wearing a witch’s band, a knot of snakeskin—”

Suddenly she jumped up. “No. We’ve all been wrong. We need to trust Kari.”

“I don’t.”

“But I do! I think, last night, that I worked it out. He’s my friend, Hakon, and I’d almost forgotten that. We’re all under some spell, an invisible, choking net of distrust; we’re all tangled in it and we have to break out, to snap it to pieces! And the first step is to get Kari free. Come with me, Hakon.”

He looked startled. “I can’t!”

“Because you’re a thrall.”

“Of course! Why else?”

She threw herself down next to him. “Gods, Hakon, we can change that. Wulfgar can change it.”

“Why should he?”

“We’d be saving his life.”

“And if we don’t? If he dies?”

“Then it doesn’t matter, really. Our lives won’t be worth two brass coins anyway.” She gave him a sharp, sidelong look. “Although I can keep you out of it. No one knows that you know. But it’s your chance, Hakon, to get out of all this! If you really want it.”

She knew that she had stung him; he took so long to answer.

“Of course I do.”

For a moment she watched him. Then she said, “Can you get me a horse?”

“Now?”

“Now. I’ve got to get back. I’ll wait here, but hurry.”

He looked around at the frail timber walls. “What about the beast?”

“That’s a good wall Skuli’s men have put up.”

“You got over it!”

She grinned. “Yes. But the creature won’t come here. The Jarlshold, not here. Besides”—she took out the two knives and laid them down—“I’ve got these. I’m getting quite fond of them.”

He gathered the plate and jug and stood up. At the door he turned awkwardly. “We’ll need two horses,” he said.