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CHAPTER XIII

Torture wasn't a usual penalty among the Norse in those days. Erling told me he'd heard of it from Father Ethelbald. It hadn't appealed to him at first, but his mother favored it, and for Soti it seemed just the thing.

I said I could appreciate the thought, but what use would a forced conversion be? You can't twist a man's arm to believe.

Erling said, "I don't care a fishbone for Soti's soul. If he burns in Hell, so much the better. I just want him to stand before the people and deny Thor. We'll find our work much easier when that happens."

"Take care you don't kill him then."

"That's where you must help. You must be there to watch when we torment him, so we don't overstep."

I could think of ways I'd rather spend an evening.

The Thing broke up. We'd chained Soti in his forge, and kept men watching him, and each day after supper we'd forgo the drinking bout and go down to see to his education. One of the men of the bodyguard did the actual work. Erling didn't want to leave obvious marks, so we tried this and that and settled on applying the flat of a red-hot axeblade to the soles of his feet.

"You haven't the calluses there that you have on your hands," said Erling.

Soti said, "Thor is great."

I said, "Only God is great, and He waits with a father's love to welcome you into His family. This burning can become cool ease, and your thirst delightful freshness, if only you will accept the mercy He offers."

I'd often been disgusted with myself. Not until now had I been disgusted by my office.

Ulvig, Soti's wife, stopped me one night as I trudged back to my bed, weary as never in my life, my hand itching.

"Do you think you will break my husband?" she demanded.

I said I didn't know.

"My husband has defeated you already."

"How so?"

She smiled. "You'll see soon enough," and she was gone.

 

As the nights wore on, and Soti remained obstinate, Erling took to going to him later and later; sharing a few skoals with the lads before beginning his work. Before long he would not start before he was well drunk, and I thought it a good plan and followed his example.

My right hand will never be fair to look on again, but I'd not trade it for Soti's feet. There's no pleasure in sitting in red forgelight, seeing hot iron pressed to flesh until it smokes, smelling the burning, hearing a man's screams, and hardening your heart to pity.

At length people complained that the howls in the night troubled their sleep, and we moved the business to the daytime. This forced Erling to get drunk before supper, which had never been his habit.

I stayed in the forge one afternoon when Erling had stumbled out, and I crouched in the dirt near the stinking man and said, "For God's sake, be baptized and make an end of it! You can't bear this forever. Your heart will burst. I'm not sure I can take much more myself."

Soti croaked, "Give me water," and I dipped some from a bucket and held the dipper to his mouth.

"I am—almost—finished with my work," he said when he had drunk. He licked his cracked lips and smiled. "Soon I will have you where I want you."

"You're mad," I said, getting up. "You're a prisoner on the point of death. Be sensible. Freedom is there for the taking if you only will."

"Would you have so counseled—one of your holy men of old?"

That hit home. " 'Tis not the same thing," I said.

"No it isn't. Not nearly. Your holy men—so far as I can tell—suffered to be like your weak, tree-hung god. I suffer to defeat you!"

"How can you defeat us?" I asked. "You're powerless."

"I can make you—I am making you—what I am."

I went out into rain, suddenly sober and loaded with truth heavy as lead. There was a crash of thunder and blue lightning close by.

Erling and I were late waking the next morning, and I found him in the hall eating a solitary breakfast, in which I joined him. Ragna sat nearby on the bench.

"It has to end, my lord," I said to him. He looked at me with hollow eyes.

"It will end. When Soti receives baptism," said Ragna.

"No, my lady," said I. "This has been his plan from the first. He knew he couldn't defeat us in law. He accepted this ordeal as his service to Thor."

"Then let him die screaming."

"Then he wins most surely. He'll fling it in our faces as he dies. When you try to do Christ's work by force and cruelty, you deny all that Christ taught. You speak Christ's name, but it's Thor you serve, for it's Thor who rules by the strong arm."

"I am a hersir!" cried Erling, standing and turning his back to me. "Do your Christian lords at home spare their enemies when they have them in their hands?"

"Such matters are too great for me," I said. "But I know this. You cannot build Christ's church with the hammer of Thor. Soti is counting on that."

Erling turned to me and his eyes shone. "I have one more arrow in my quiver. It came to me before I slept last night. Wait for me at the forge, and see if I don't win this game."

I went, and sat on a block of wood, and stared at Soti.

"What's on today?" he asked. He looked like a devil, a thing from underground.

"Erling is coming. He has something new to try on you."

"Good," said Soti. "This foot burning was growing wearisome."

Erling came in. "I have a new tormenter for you, Soti," he said.

"Einar lost his stomach, did he?"

"All work is best done by men who love it. There is one man who dreams of torturing you. . . . Come in, Lemming."

The giant walked in, stooping through the door.

Soti's face went white. We left the forge.

Then the screaming began. Everyone on the farm—the thralls digging peat, the fishermen tarring their boats, the bullyboys whacking each other with blunted swords for practice—all stopped and shuddered at the sound.

I've known despair. I've stood in the place where hope is seen for fraud, and all that remains is death—the sooner the better. So I recognized the screams of Soti.

I went to the hall and found Erling slouched in the high seat, an empty horn in his hand, calling for more ale. His eyes were puffy; his mouth hung open; he stared as if he didn't know me.

"It must end," I said.

"I struck Halla last night," he said. "Why would I do that? I don't even remember how she angered me. She looked at me like a hurt child. I've become . . . some man I don't know."

"Let Soti go, my lord," I said. "Or kill him. But while this wrong continues you are not lord of Sola. You're not even lord of yourself. Thor rules here."

Erling groaned. "What does Christ want? If you serve him weakly, He's angry. If you serve him too strongly, He's angry again."

"It isn't easy, my lord. The right thing is never easy. When you shoot with a bow, there's only one bull's-eye, and six hundred hundreds of ways to miss."

"So I'm beaten this time."

"You've not often been beaten."

"Almost never."

"No man wins always. If you learn something, you've made a profit. Be satisfied."

He smiled and pulled himself up. "I suppose it's like this when you die," he said. "At the very end, it's a relief."

Inside the forge we found Lemming standing over Soti, a glowing poker in his hand. One of Soti's eyes was out, and there were burn marks all over his naked body, especially in the male parts.

"Mercy!" he screamed. "Get him away from me! I'll be baptized! I'll do anything!" He twisted in his chains and tried to draw his knees up. His grimed, marred face ran with tear channels.

We stood and stared at him.

"Blessed be Jesus!" cried Soti. "Blessed be Jesus and his father, and his mother, and their ghost, and the holy bread, and that fellow in Romaborg, and that other fellow in Cantaraborg, and—"

Erling placed a hand on Lemming's shoulder, and the giant turned. I thought for a moment he would strike Erling, but he lowered his hands.

"Set him free," said Erling. "Let him serve Thor in peace. I never looked for this. I am shamed before God."

 

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Framed


Title: The Year of the Warrior
Author: Lars Walker
ISBN: 0-671-57861-8
Copyright: © 2000 by Lars Walker
Publisher: Baen Books