Tim Leach - Smile of the Wolf

‘Very well.’ She stood and struck the dust from her dress, and went to tend the fire. When she had gone to the other side of the long house, the children at her side, Gunnar leaned forward and whispered to me. ‘Be careful when you travel.’

‘They have been watching you?’

‘I cannot be certain. But I think so.’

‘How many?’

‘Only ever one or two. And they could be farmers from another valley. But I do not think so.’

‘You believe they mean to strike at us this summer?’

‘No, they only mean to watch us, for now. But if they get a chance…’

I raised a hand to silence him. ‘Then I will not give them that chance.’

I kept to the high ground, following the ridgelines and staying away from the narrow defiles below. If one knows it well enough, ours is not a country that suits thieves and murderers, aside from the maze of valleys farther to the north. In the daylight, up on the hills, I would see any band of men long before they could come for me. If only the sun would never set – for when the darkness comes, ghosts and killers alike may walk free.

The great longhouse was before me soon enough, the sweet smoke of cooking fires rising from it, the servants working in the fields, the fat cattle wandering, content. The kind of home that all who came to Iceland dreamed of, had been promised, and yet so few would ever have.

I took a moment to measure the point of the sun in the sky, to see how much time I had before the killer’s darkness fell across the land. Long enough. I took a breath, put a hand to the axe at my hip, and stepped inside.

There was silence as I entered. It took my eyes time to match the darkness, and no words were spoken. I stood, sightless and soundless, waiting. And when at last I could see, every man’s eyes were on me.

There were those who looked upon me as if I were an outlaw, with a hungry, murderous gaze. They must have not been counting the days, and did not know that I had a little time left. I saw one man lay a hand to the weapon at his side and half-rise, but then he looked to his unmoving companions and realised his mistake. I was not yet a man outside of the law.

There were others who stared at me with a kind of pity, as they might favour a dying man. Others simply seemed curious, glad of the entertainment I might provide, for it is good sport to watch the feuds if one lies outside them. But there was only one there who looked on me with hatred. A woman’s eyes, for Vigdis sat at the table beside Olaf, her belly heavy with child.

She stood as I looked at her, and a pair of men whom I did not know rose with her. Her kin or those of Björn, perhaps. She walked past me, her head high. And the silence held after she had left, until Olaf broke it.

‘What is this?’ he said to his men. ‘Are you dumb beasts? Talk! Sing! And offer greetings to our guest.’ He came forward and clasped my arm. ‘For all men are welcome here,’ he said, as the men around us began to talk once more.

‘My thanks, Olaf.’

‘Will you stay to eat?’

‘I must return before dark.’

‘Of course,’ he said, guiding me to a seat. ‘Then what brings you to me?’

‘Gunnar holds a feast a week from now, to celebrate the coming of the harvest. He invites you to join him.’

He said nothing for a time. His fingers drummed upon the table.

‘I thank you for your courtesy,’ he said. ‘But I will not trouble Gunnar’s patience. The man has little love for me.’

‘What matters his love? You would do him great honour to attend.’

‘I do not care to honour him.’

‘But you honour Vigdis?’

He looked at me levelly and made no reply.

‘Will you stand with them, Olaf?’

‘I will not stand with them. Or with you. I take no side in this petty feud.’

‘Then why was she here?’

‘A matter of business. She wishes to sell her farm to me.’

‘And what did you tell her?’

‘What does that matter to you?’

‘I wish to know what she does.’

‘It matters not to you. Your feud is with the brothers, not with her.’

‘You are not a fool, Olaf. Do not talk as one.’

A nearby warrior stood, his hand to his weapon. But Olaf waved him back. ‘Sit down,’ he said. ‘And do not listen so closely to the talk of other men.’ He turned back to me. ‘You are right. But you must forget her. There is nothing you can do against her.’

‘She has learned that, hasn’t she? That is what makes her so dangerous.’

Olaf nodded. ‘My sister, Hallgerd… she has learned it too. Two husbands dead and nothing that any man will do against her. There is only one thing that you can do against one like that.’

‘What?’

‘Leave her no weapon to use against you. Kill every man in her life,’ he said, simply and plainly, and took a sip of his mead. I drank, too, and we did not speak for a time. What Olaf thought of, I cannot say.

‘It will be your farewell, this feast?’ Olaf said, after a time.

‘It shall.’

‘You should have begun with that. It tempts me more to honour you than it does to honour Gunnar.’

‘But you still will not come?’

‘No. And I think that it was not I who you truly came to talk to.’

I knew she was there, but I did not look at her once. I wanted to savour the feeling of her eyes upon me. When I turned to look at Sigrid, she met my gaze openly, glanced at Olaf, and returned to her work.

When I looked back on the chieftain, his face held a weary sadness. ‘Will you let her go?’ he said. ‘She is a handsome woman. There are many who might wed her.’

‘Better men?’

‘Richer men. Men who are not outlaws.’

‘It is not my choice to make.’

‘You could free her if you chose to. Drive her from you. Some would call it mercy.’

‘I will come back for her. We will be poor and we will be happy. I do not expect you to understand.’

‘You will not come back.’

‘Another of your prophecies?’

‘One does not need such a gift to see that.’

‘I will come back. I will marry her. I swear to both of those things.’

‘In time you will regret that oath, I think. But as you wish.’ He clasped my hand. ‘Go now. I wish that things had been otherwise.’

I stood, but I did not leave at once. I lingered a moment longer in the hall of the great chieftain, thinking that it might be the last time I stood in such a place. For the first time that I could remember I wished that I might have been such a chieftain as Olaf.

It was not for the food piled high on the tables, the scarlet clothes of Olaf, the tracts of farmland that stretched outside, the great horde of gold and silver that was locked away in wooden chests. It was not for his fame or prestige. It was for the men he had there. The warriors who would stand at his side in any feud.

Had Gunnar and I but half those warriors sworn to us, we would have nothing to fear. When you see a man wearing gold rings and scarlet cloth – what does that matter, so long as one is warm? Why envy a farmer with three hundred head in cattle if one has food enough, or one who owns half a valley if one has a small farm to call one’s own? But I understood too late why one might crave wealth and power. For in the feud, they count for everything.

When Sigrid came outside the longhouse, she carried a pail in her hands – her excuse, no doubt, for she cast it to the ground as soon as she was past the threshold.

‘There is no need for pretence,’ I told her. ‘Olaf knows and he will not stand in our way.’

‘Oh, I know that well enough.’

I went to speak, but found that I could not.

She cocked her head to the side and said, ‘What is it you see, when you look on me?’