Tim Leach - Smile of the Wolf

‘It is true, then?’ Hakon asked.

A shudder passed through the crowd at those words. I looked on the faces of those who surrounded us, saw that killing coldness stealing into their eyes. We would die there, I thought, and I only wished that my weapon was not bound, so that I might take good company with me into the darkness. I looked at the men closest to me and tried to think which of them would come for me first. Of how I would put my thumb into his eye, tear his cheek open with my teeth, beat his throat closed with the palm of my hand. I might, if I was lucky, be able to kill one of them.

‘Enough!’

A new voice speaking – Olaf the Peacock, fighting his way through the crowd with a dozen of his thingmen . They were around us in moments and, though they were but few against many, the crowd drew back.

‘Speak no more, you fool!’ he said to Gunnar, his face white with rage. He pointed to me. ‘Even the poet here knows to hold his tongue.’

Björn spoke to Olaf then, shoving forward against the men who fought to hold him back. ‘You will protect a murderer?’

‘Will you kill a man on the plains of the law and live in shame of it? You will have your justice. But by the law, not here.’ He looked to us. ‘Come with me. Now.’

‘I will not run from men like this!’ Gunnar spat upon the ground. ‘I will not run from this woman.’

I put my hands on Gunnar’s shoulders. ‘Come,’ I said. ‘We must go.’ He shook his head, and so I spoke again. I spoke the words I knew that he would listen to. ‘Revenge, Gunnar. Think of revenge. We cannot have it if we die here.’

He smiled at me, then – a monster’s smile of teeth below dead eyes.

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Revenge. I will have it.’ And he moved away, encircled by Olaf’s men. But they did not stand too close. They knew him to be a cursed man.

There is comfort in darkness. Any Icelander knows that, or must learn it to survive the long winter without madness taking his mind. To sit still and be unseen, to almost live through sound and touch alone – this can be a pleasure, if one is attuned to it. As we sat together in Olaf’s hut on the plain, sun creeping through the reeds but much of the room still in shadow, I have never been so grateful for the darkness. We might be dead before the day was out, yet I felt calm. There, in that moment, there was only Olaf and Gunnar and I. The rest of the world, for a time at least, did not exist.

Olaf leaned towards us, hands clasped together in the way that I had heard that Christian men prayed. Gunnar was in one corner slumped against the wall, but it was in rest, not defeat. The warrior’s habit of gathering strength at any opportunity, never knowing when he will be forced to fight.

Olaf broke the silence. ‘Tell me what you have done.’

Gunnar looked at him with contempt and shook his head.

‘This one seems determined to die in silence,’ Olaf said to me. ‘And you?’

‘I will speak,’ I replied. Gunnar raised a hand – imploring or in anger I could not tell. ‘Gunnar, I must speak. If not for us, then for your family.’ At these words, he fell back once more.

‘Be quick,’ Olaf said.

I told him the story, then. Of the ghost in the night, iron singing against iron. Of our bargain with Vigdis to keep our silence, spare the dead man’s shame. Of the price she had asked from Gunnar and how she had been refused.

‘I would believe it from no man but you,’ Olaf said, once I had finished. He sat back, one hand toying with a silver arm-ring, turning it over and over again. I listened to the sounds coming from outside, for the crowd was gathering once more, though it seemed that they kept their distance, that their respect for the chieftain still held. It was only once or twice that I heard shouts from Olaf’s men, driving away the packs of curious children who had come to see a murderer.

‘This is what we will do,’ Olaf said, waiting a moment to see if Gunnar would offer any response, any objection to his words. ‘We speak to the brothers in private. We tell them what you have told me. They will know that their brother was dishonourable, playing a womanly trick. They will take a lesser settlement. They will not ask for your life.’

‘You think they will believe us?’ I asked.

‘It is too strange a tale to be invented.’

Gunnar shook his head. ‘No,’ he said. ‘We will say nothing. A woman cannot be a witness under the law.’

‘You have spoken it!’ Olaf said, rising to his feet, angry at last. ‘Spoken your guilt in front of a thousand men.’

‘As she intended,’ I said.

‘As she intended,’ Olaf repeated. ‘You were tricked by her. Now you will pay the price for it.’

Gunnar turned his face to the wall. He no longer wished to look on either of us. ‘What must I pay?’ he said.

‘Give them your farm, Gunnar,’ Olaf said. ‘Your herd, too. And that sword you are so proud of. That may be enough. You may come to my home, be one of my thingmen .’ He turned to me. ‘I owe you your promise and I have kept my word. Though you should feel shame for your trick.’

‘I do. And you have my gratitude.’

‘There is much unsettled between us,’ Olaf replied. ‘I do not think well of your deception. I think that this will not end as you would wish it.’

‘Your gift of prophecy again, Olaf?’

‘One does not need the second sight to know how a man like you will meet his death.’

In his corner, Gunnar stirred at last. ‘What promise is this?’

I hesitated, thinking that I might find the right words. But Olaf spoke before I could: ‘You are a luckless man, but you are fortunate to have this one as your friend. He came to me begging for my favour. Begging that I would protect you in some unnamed feud. I see now why he came. Because you are too proud to beg.’

At this, Gunnar smiled. ‘I will not give up my land,’ he said. ‘I will not be punished for killing a man in a fair fight.’

‘It is that or they will make you an outlaw.’

‘So be it.’

‘You will not last a single winter,’ Olaf said.

‘I would rather live and die that single winter in my own home than beg your charity.’

‘Die then, Gunnar. It means nothing to me. I offer my help and consider my debt paid.’ Olaf turned from us then, his hands held up, and Gunnar smiled once more. That warrior’s smile that confronts hopeless odds with a light heart. I knew then that he truly would die before accepting Olaf’s help. I knew then what I had to do.

‘Let me speak to you, Olaf,’ I said.

‘No man is stopping you,’ Gunnar said.

‘No. I must speak to Olaf alone.’

I thought I would have to fight hard for what I wanted, but Gunnar stood at once and looked on us both with scorn.

‘More tricks,’ he said. ‘More words. They will do no good. But as you wish. I see you think me too foolish to understand. But I understand it. I know.’ And he strode from the hut to face the howling crowd.

‘There is nothing more I can do for you,’ Olaf said. ‘You will have to convince him to do as I say. Or both of you will die.’

‘No,’ I said. ‘There is another way. This is what we will do.’

After we had spoken, I waited there alone. Olaf was gone amongst the people, working upon what we had agreed. Where Gunnar was, I could not say. Riding for home with a warband at his heels, sitting alone upon the grass, calling for vengeance with sword in hand – neither would have surprised me.

A shadow passed across the entrance. I thought it would be Olaf, come to tell if we had succeeded or failed. Or Gunnar, come back to demand an answer that I could not give him, or one of the brothers, seeking a settlement in blood. Yet when I looked up, it was the shape of a woman. I could not see her face, but I did not need to. I would have known her in any kind of darkness.