Лайон Спрэг Де Камп Array - The Incomplete Enchanter

As he looked round Aud made a curtsy and said rapidly: «Lord, with this meal as with all things, your wishes are our law. Is there aught else that you desire?»

Shea hesitated for a moment, realizing it was a formula required by politeness and that he should make some remark praising the food. But he had had a long drink of potent mead on an empty stomach. The normal food habits of an American urged him to action.

«Would it be too much to ask whether you have any vegetables?» he said.

For one brief second both the girl and Thjalfi stared at him. Then both burst into shrieks of laughter, Aud staggering back towards the wall, Thjalfi rolling his head forward on his arms. Shea sat staring, red with embarrassment, the half-eaten chop in his hand. He hardly noticed that the four men at the other side of the table were looking at him till the big red-headed man boomed out:

«Good is the wit when men’s children laugh before the Æsir! Now, Thjalfi, you shall tell us what brings this lightness of heart.»

Thjalfi, making no effort to control himself, managed to gasp out: «The. the warlock Harald wants to eat a turnip!» His renewed burst of laughter was drowned in the roar from Redbeard, who leaned back, bellowing: «Oh, ho, ho, ho, ho! Turnip Harald, ha, ha ha!» His merriment was like a gale with the other three adding their part, even the blue-cloaked Wanderer.

When they had quieted down a little, Shea turned to Thjalfi. «What did I do?» he asked. «After all—»

«Ye named yourself Turnip Harald! I’m afeared ye spoiled your chance of standing under Rcdbeard’s banner at the Time . Who’d want a hero that ate turnips? In Asgard we use them to fatten hogs.»

«But —»

«Ye didn’t know better. Well, now your only chance is Uncle Fox. Ye can thank me for saying ye’re a warlock. Besides, he loves a good joke; the only humorist in the lot of them, I always say. But eating turnips — ha, ha, that’s the funniest thing I’ve heard since the giant tried to marry the Hammer Thrower!»

Shea, a trifle angry and now completely mystified, turned to ask explanations. Before he could frame the words there was a pounding at the door. Sverre admitted a tall man, pale, blond and beardless, with a proud, stately face and a huge golden horn slung over his back. «There’s another of Them ,» whispered Thjalfi. «That’s Heimdall. I wonder if all twelve of Them are meeting here.»

«Who the devil are They ?»

« Sh! »

* * *

The four bearded men nodded welcome to the newcomer. He took his place beside the Wanderer with lithe grace and immediately began to say something to the older man, who nodded in rapt attention. Shea caught a few of the words: «— fire horses, but no use telling you with the Bearer of Bad Tidings present.» He nodded contemptuously towards Uncle Fox.

«It is often seen,» said the latter, raising his voice a trifle but addressing the red-bearded man as though continuing a conversation begun before, «that liars tell few lies when those are present who can see the truth.»

«Or it may be that I have that to tell which I do not wish to have repeated to our enemies by the Evil Companion,» said Heimdall, looking straight at Uncle Fox.

«There are even those,» continued the latter evenly, still paying Heimdall no attention, «who, having no character of their own, wish to destroy all character by assassinating the reputations of others.»

«Liar and thief!» cried Heimdall angrily, bringing his fist down on the table and almost snarling. Shea saw that his front teeth were, surprisingly, of gold.

«Here,» rumbled the large redhead, judicially. «Let there be an allaying of the anger of the Æsir, in the presence of mortals.»

«Let there also,» snapped the small man, «be an allaying of insults in the mouth of —»

«All insults are untrue,» said Heimdall. «I state facts.»

«Facts! Few are the facts that come from that long wagging chin. Facts like the tale of having nine mothers, or the boast of that horn and the great noise it will make — Beware lest mice nest in it and it fail to give a squeak.»

«You shall hear my trumpet at the Time , Father of Lies. And you will not like the sound.»

«Some would say that called for the sword.»

«Try it. Here is the blade that will carve your stinking carcass.»

«Why you—» Foxy-face and Heimdall were on their feet and bellowing at each other. Their voices had a volume that made Shea wince. The other three bearded men rose and began shouting also. Above their heads the two black birds who had been the Wanderer’s companions fled round and round with excited cries.

Just as it looked as though the two original disputants were certain to fling themselves at each other’s throat, the bigger redhead grabbed the smaller one by the shoulders and forced him down. «Sit down!» he thundered. The Wanderer, his sonorous voice full of outraged dignity, shouted; «This is disgraceful! We shall have no respect left. I command you to be quiet, both of you!»

«But —» yelled Heimdall.

The Wanderer silenced him with a gesture. «Nothing you can say will be heard. If either of you speaks to the other before bedtime, he shall have nothing less than my gravest displeasure.»

Heimdall subsided and went over to a far corner to sit and glare at Fox-face, who returned the glare. Thjalfi whispered to the awed Shea: «It’s like this every time three or four of Them get together. They’re supposed to set us a good example, but the first thing ye know they’re at it like a gang of drunken berserks.»

«I’d still like to know who They are,» said Shea.

«Do you mean ye really don’t know?» Thjalfi stared at him with eyes full of honest rustic perplexity. «Don’t that beat all, now? I wouldn’t have believed it if ye hadn’t asked for those turnips. Well, the one that was scrapping with Heimdall is Loki. The big red-bearded one next to him is Thor. The old man, the Wanderer, is Odinn, and the fat one is Frey. Have ye got them straight now?»

Shea looked hard at Thjalfi, but there was nothing in the latter’s face but the most transparent seriousness. Either he had stepped through the formula into some downright dream, or he was being kidded, or the five were local Scandinavian chieftains who for some reason had named themselves after the gods of the old Norse pantheon. The remaining possibility — that these were actually gods — was too wildly improbable for consideration. Yet, those birds — the glance he had received from Odinn — and he knew that Odinn was always represented as one-eyed — The big redhead called Thor got up and went over to the pair whom Thjalfi had identified as Odinn and Frey. For a few minutes they muttered, heads together. At the conclusion of the conference Odinn got up, clapped his floppy hat on his head, whirled his blue cloak around him, look a last gulp of mead and strode out the door.

As the door banged behind him, Loki and Heimdall half rose to their feet. Immediately Thor and Frey jumped up, with the former rumbling: «No more! Save your blows, Sons of Asgard, for the Time . Or if you must deal buffets, exchange them with me.» He lifted a fist the size of a small ham, and both subsided. «It is time for bed, in any case. Come along, Loki. You, too, Thjalfi.»

Thjalf, rose reluctantly. «I’ll speak a word for ye to Uncle Fox in the morning,» he murmured in farewell. Working for these Æsir is no fun. They’re an ornery lot, but I suppose we’re better off with ’em than without ’em, what with the Time coming. Ye know what Ulf, the poet says:

Bare is the breast Without banner before it

When heroes bear weapons To the wrack of the world.

«Good night.»