Tim Leach - Smile of the Wolf

‘No. If she did, she would have no need of men to do her bidding, would she? Her curses alone would be enough.’ The smile fell away from her face. ‘Come. We must hurry.’

The rolling of the wind, the patter of the rain; these sounds kept us company as we travelled. When we began our journey I doubted that I would find the way; perhaps I hoped I would not be able to. That we would wander lost in the mist until it was time to return home.

But though I had not travelled to Vigdis’s house since the night of Erik’s killing, the way seemed clearly marked in my mind as though we had left a trail only I could see. I remembered the little pyramid of stones Gunnar and I had passed in moonlight, laughing and singing together early in the journey. I remembered the rippled hillside, where we had waited for the clouds to clear from the moon and light our way once more. And I remembered the still tarn on high ground, where we had washed the blood and dirt from our hands after the killing. Soon enough there was a shadow in the mist ahead, a brooding black shape like a whale swimming beneath the waves.

‘That is it?’ Dalla said.

‘Yes,’ I said. I saw the blood beating beneath the skin of her neck, saw her pale skin whiten to the colour of bone. ‘We may still go back, if you wish.’

‘I am afraid,’ she said softly. ‘But no. We cannot go back. Whatever is said, promise that you will not speak. You and Gunnar have done enough already. You must let me try now.’

‘As you wish.’

A farm in peace has a welcoming untidiness to it: pails and tools scattered in the field, animals wandering freely, doors left open and unbarred. In a feud, nothing is left to chance. Animals leashed and tools put away, fences without gaps and horses in the field that are unfamiliar with one another, snorting and circling each other like men in a fist fight. There too, through the mist, I could see a man standing at the door to the longhouse, bored and uneasy.

By chance or by fate it was a man I had seen on guard for Olaf: Ketil Hakonsson. For a moment he seemed to mistake me for someone else, his face half-breaking into a welcoming smile, still fixed in the habits of peacetime. Then he knew me for who I was.

I held my hands up and said, ‘Hold. We come to speak, not to fight.’

‘It could be a trick,’ he said, half-drawing the axe from his belt, licking lips suddenly struck dry with fear.

What stories they must have told him of me, I thought. That I was a murderer in the night. A landless wanderer who brought blood and chaos with him. A man who held the shield of Gunnar the Killer. Some kind of monster, and now he stood face to face with me.

Then Dalla spoke: ‘He would not come with a woman at his side, would he?’

He started and looked on her as though seeing her for the first time.

‘Who are you?’ he said.

‘Dalla Egilsdottir. Wife to Gunnar. And I come to speak with Vigdis.’

‘Very well,’ he said. ‘I will ask her.’ His eyes danced over the blade at my hip. ‘Will you agree to leave your weapon here, if she says yes?’

‘I mean you no harm, friend. But I shall not walk into that house without a weapon. I am sure that you have many men in there. If you choose to murder me, I cannot stop you. But I will die with a blade in my hand. And there will be blood on it, before the end.’

He shivered a little and I could not help but feel a little pity for him. He had no place in the feud. I hoped that I would never have to fight him.

‘But listen,’ I said. ‘I swear to you on my honour that I shall not be the first to draw iron, if it comes to that. We came to talk, not to die.’

He swallowed and nodded, and went inside. We waited.

‘My thanks to you, Kjaran,’ Dalla said.

‘Why?’

‘I see now the risk you took in coming here.’

The door opened once more and the young warrior appeared to us again. He looked more afraid than he had before. He tried to speak, but could not. He merely beckoned us to enter.

I pressed one hand to my eye before we entered, giving it a chance to adjust to the dark. With that eye, I counted the men within and marked where they stood. Five, and none of them men I knew well, but if anything it made me more wary than before. Had there been ten of them, they would have had the confidence of their numbers, would have had nothing to fear from me. Five was too many to fight, too few to trust.

Vigdis sat in the high chair: a queen of her little kingdom, an heir growing thick in her stomach. She kept us waiting there with royal contempt, even as the men eyed us fearfully, lost in that silence.

Perhaps she thought we would turn to bloodshed for lack of anything else to do; had it been I alone, she might have been right, for men fear the silence. But Dalla was her match in patience. She stood, her weight evenly balanced and her hands clasped in front of her, and waited for her host to speak.

‘Dalla,’ Vigdis said at last. ‘Or are you called Flat Nose? Why have you come here to insult me?’

‘I did not come to insult you.’

‘You come with a murderer at your side.’

‘He knew the way. I would have come alone.’

‘Your husband knows the way. Why not bring him?’

‘I think it is better that he is not here. Don’t you?’

‘I suppose that is true. Very well, I give you my hospitality.’

The low fire hissed at us; the mead was warm and strong against my lips. I heard men moving behind me and fought the urge to turn and watch them. One brushed against me, perhaps hoping I would do something foolish that might justify a killing. I kept my eyes ahead, on Vigdis, and watched her restless hands return again and again to her stomach.

‘You have not had a child before?’ Dalla asked.

‘It will be my first,’ Vigdis replied.

‘It is a wonderful thing.’

‘It is the greatest thing. Do you not agree?’

‘No. There are other things that make me happier. But I am glad of my children.’

‘What can be better than a child?’

Dalla bit her lip and looked to the table.

‘Why have you come here?’ Vigdis said.

‘I come to seek peace between our families.’

‘Blood has been spilt twice on our side. Erik and Hakon. And you have suffered nothing.’ She pointed to me. ‘This slave’s son will be an outlaw for three years, and you think that justice?’

‘The law calls it justice.’ She drank and placed the cup down with a careful motion. ‘But no, I do not call it justice.’

‘Then what can you offer me?’

Dalla looked to me, but only for a moment. I understood then.

She meant to give me up to them. That was why she had brought me here. She would give me up to save her family. I let my hand wander, slowly, slowly, to the weapon at my side. I would kill one, at least, when she made the offer.

‘You asked something of me before,’ Dalla said. ‘Of my husband. That he would cast me aside and marry you.’

Vigdis cocked her head to the side. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I remember.’

Dalla faltered for a moment. Unable to hold the other woman’s gaze, she looked to the ground. ‘If that is still what you want. You may have him.’

She could not look at me either, but she must have sensed my movement. For without looking she raised a hand, palm towards me, telling me to wait.

Vigdis sat in complete stillness, as if she were a carving of stone. ‘You would do that?’ she said.

‘If it would bring an end to the feud. Yes.’

‘Gunnar would do it?’

Dalla raised her head once more, and there was pride in her voice. ‘If I asked him, he would.’

Vigdis paused for a long time, considering what had been said. The low hum of other men’s talk had ceased entirely, warriors and servants alike looking and listening to our conversation alone. Their faces uncomprehending, for we might have been speaking another tongue entirely: this strange duel was one that they could not understand.