Michael Crichton - Eaters of the Dead

Herger’s second shield was likewise broken, and he called for his third and final shield. Herger was much fatigued, and his face damp and red with exertion; the youth Ragnar appeared easy as he battled, with little exertion.

Then the third shield was broken, and Herger’s plight was most desperate, or so it seemed for a fleeting moment. Herger stood with both feet solid on the ground, bent and gasping for his air, and most direly fatigued. Ragnar chose this time to fall upon him. Then Herger side-stepped like the flick of a bird’s wings, and the youth Ragnar plunged his sword through empty air. Then, Herger threw his own sword from one hand to the other, for these Northmen can fight as well with either hand, and equally strong. And quickly Herger turned and cut off Ragnar’s head from behind with a single blow of his sword.

Verily I saw the blood spurt from the neck of Ragnar and the head flew across the air into the crowd, and I saw with my own eyes that the head struck the ground before the body also struck the ground. Now Herger stepped aside, and then I perceived that the battle had been a sham, for Herger no longer puffed and panted, but stood with no sign of fatigue and no heaving of his chest, and he held his sword lightly, and he looked as if he could kill a dozen such men. And he looked at Wiglif and said, “Honor your friend,” meaning to see to the burial.

Herger said to me, as we departed the dueling place, that he had acted a sham so that Wiglif should know the men of Buliwyf were not merely strong and brave warriors, but cunning as well. “This will give him more fear,” Herger said, “and he will not dare to speak against us.”

I doubted his plan would have this effect, but it is true that the Northmen prize deceit more than the most deceitful Hazar, indeed more than the most lying Bahrain trader, for whom deceit is a form of art. Cleverness in battle and manly things is accounted a greater virtue than pure strength in warriorship.

Yet Herger was not happy, and I perceived that Buliwyf was not happy, either. As the evening approached, the beginnings of the mist formed in the high inland hills. I believed that they were thinking of the dead Ragnar, who was young and strong and brave, and who would be useful in the coming battle. Herger said as much to me: “A dead man is of no use to anyone.”

NOW WITH THE FALL OF DARKNESS, THE MIST crept down from the hills, slinking as fingers around the trees, seeping over the green fields toward the hall of Hurot and the waiting warriors of Buliwyf. Here there was a respite in work; from a fresh spring, water was diverted to fill the shallow ditch, and then I understood the sense of the plan, for the water concealed the stakes and deeper holes, and thus the moat was treacherous to any invader.

Further still, the women of Rothgar carried goatskin sacks of water from the well, and doused the fence, and the dwelling, and all the surface of the hall of Hurot with water. So, also, the warriors of Buliwyf drenched themselves in their armor with water from the spring. The night was damp cold and, thinking this some heathen ritual, I begged excuses, but to no end: Herger doused me head to foot like the rest. I stood dripping and shivering: in truth I cried aloud at the shock of the cold water, and demanded to know the reason. “The glowworm dragon breathes fire,” Herger said to me.

Then he offered me a cup of mead to ease the chill, and I drank this cup of mead without a pause, and was glad for it.

Now the night was fully black, and the warriors of Buliwyf awaited the coming of the dragon Korgon. All eyes were turned toward the hills, now lost in the mist of night. Buliwyf himself strode the length of the fortifications, carrying his great sword Runding, speaking low words of encouragement to his warriors. All waited quietly, save one, the lieutenant Ecthgow. This Ecthgow is a master of the hand axe; he had set up a sturdy post of wood some distance from him, and he practiced the throw of his hand axe to this wooden post, over and again. Indeed, many hand axes had been given him; I counted five or six clipped to his broad belt, and others in his hands, and scattered on the ground about him.

In like manner was Herger stringing and testing with his bow and arrow, and also Skeld, for these were the most skilled in marksmanship of the Northmen warriors. The Northmen arrows have iron points and are most excellently constructed, with shafts straight as a taut line. They have within each village or camp a man who is often crippled or lame, and he is known as the almsmann ; he fashions the arrows, and also the bows, for the warriors of the region, and for these alms is paid with gold or shells or, as have myself seen, with food and meat. [27]

The bows of the Northmen are near the length of their own bodies, and made of birch. The fashion of shooting is this: the arrow shaft is drawn back to the ear, not to the eye, and thence let fly; and the power is such that the shaft may pass cleanly through the body of a man, and not lodge therein; so also may the shaft penetrate a sheet of wood of the thickness of a man’s fist. Verily I have seen such power with an arrow with my own eyes, and I myself tried to wield one of their bows, but discovered it ungainly; for it was too large and resistant to me.

These Northmen are skilled in all the manners of warfare and killing with the several weapons that they prize. They speak of the lines of warfare, which has no sense of arrangements of soldiers; for all to them is the combat of one man to another who is his enemy. The two lines of warfare differ as to the weapon. For the broadsword, which is always swung in an arc and never employed in stabbing, they say: “The sword seeks the breath line,” which means to them the neck, and thereby the cutting off of the head from the body. For the spear, the arrow, the hand axe, the dagger, and the other tools of stabbing, they say: “These weapons seek the fat line.” [28]By these words they intend to center part of the body from head to groin; a wound in this center line means to them certain death to their opponent. Also they believe it is foremost to strike the belly for its softness than to strike the chest or head portion.

Verily, Buliwyf and all his company kept watchful vigil that night, and I among them. I experienced much fatigue in this alertness, and soon enough was tired as if I had fought a battle, yet none had occurred. The Northmen were not fatigued, but ready at any moment. It is true that they are the most vigilant persons on the face of all the world, ever prepared for any battle or danger; and they find nothing tiresome in this posture, which for them is ordinary from birth. At all times are they prudent and watchful.

After a time I slept, and Herger woke me thus and brusquely: I felt a great thumping and a whistle of air near my head, and upon the opening of my eyes saw an arrow shivering in the wood at the breadth of a hair from my nose. This arrow Herger had shot, and he and all the others laughed mightily at my discomfiture. To me he said, “If you sleep, you will miss the battle.” I said in response that that would be no hardship according to my own way of thinking.

Now Herger retrieved his arrow and, observing that I was offended with his prank, sat alongside me and spoke in a manner of friendliness. Herger this night was in a pronounced mood of joking and fun. He shared with me a cup of mead, and spoke thus: “Skeld is bewitched.” At this he laughed.

Skeld was not far off, and Herger spoke loudly, so I recognized that Skeld was to overhear us; yet Herger spoke in Latin, unintelligible to Skeld; so perhaps there was some other reason I do not know. Skeld in this time sharpened the points of his arrows and awaited the battle. To Herger I said: “How is he bewitched?”