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CHAPTER XXIII

The morning after Erling's return he came to me in the church and I said to him, "My lord, I must confess to you."

"I have no power to absolve you," he said.

"Still I must confess. I've judged you harshly, and I've no right to judge. You've heard what I did the night of the sacrifice?"

"I pray God I'm never tested as you were."

"I failed at every point."

"You did not do the thing at last."

"I ate horsemeat. Your martyr priest died rather than do that. But I can forgive that in myself, because I wanted to save my woman and child. I'm not a hero. But when I think that I was on the point of raping a twelve-year-old maid—I, who bled for my sister! I could dwindle to a mayfly, and fly away to Eastland and be eaten by an elephant, and the elephant be eaten by a hundred men, and all those men and all their descendants would die of my shame.

"I know what you'll say—there was magic at work, and the elf-woman, and the music and dancing, and the moon, and whatever they put in that stew. But they couldn't have called me if I hadn't known their tongue. I've seen—it's as if a man looked at his reflection in a pool, and saw a troll's face there."

Erling went to the altar and straightened a candle. "I know too little of God's teachings," he said, "but isn't this what they call repentance?"

I could not answer. No, it wasn't repentance, or not full repentance. I still hadn't told him I was no priest. I'd thought I might at first, but my courage failed.

"Lay a penance on yourself," he said. "Suffer and be done with it. I can't have my priest going about moaning over his sins. What I liked in you from the first was your spirit, and you'll not get far in Norway without it."

"How can I stand before the church when everyone saw me at the sacrifice?"

"Those with any sense will be as ashamed of themselves as you are. Those who blame you I'll mark, because I've noted that most men condemn loudest those sins they themselves haven't mastered. Perhaps that's why God is so merciful. Having no sins of His own, He finds nothing unforgiveable."

I shook my head. "That poor child. They brought a stallion! She'd have been killed, surely?"

"Most times they are, or so I've heard. But the ones who live are accounted mighty souls."

When I'd heard his confession and absolved him, Erling said, "Come with me to Lemming's house. He has a story, and I'll get it from him if I have to hold his feet to a fire, like Soti."

The big man was sleeping when we walked into his hovel, and he jerked up and nearly struck Erling before he saw who had shaken him.

Erling and I sat on the other bench as he stretched and scratched, wordless as a bear.

"I'll have your story," said Erling, "and I'll have it now. There are limits to our patience. You can't act as you have without explaining yourself."

Lemming leaned back against the wall and stared at us from shadowed eyes.

"What do we know?" said Erling. "We know you served Soti for years, and that you came to Sola with him from the north. You hated Soti—hated him as a man hates death. And you showed no special love for anyone else. Yet you lit the balefire at the risk of your life. Why? It seems to me there must have been someone at Sola for whom you did care."

Lemming stared and said nothing.

"Then came the great summer sacrifice, and again you put your life at risk. For whom? For Father Aillil? Not likely. But who else was in danger? If the sacrifice went on, none but he would have died."

Lemming's mouth twisted, and the cords of his neck stood out.

"But there was one in danger of another kind. The child, Freydis."

Lemming looked away.

"Ulvig said, I'm told, that the ceremony was performed on her when she was the same age. So she would have coupled with a thrall. And I ask myself, was that thrall Lemming? Is Lemming the father of Freydis?"

The big man stood of a sudden and spread his arms and bellowed. Then he collapsed, like a burst bladder, into a pile of flesh and bone unaccountably small, and lay sobbing.

"He can't be her father," said I. "The father would have been sacrificed, unless the custom was different then."

"Who was Freydis' father, Lemming?" asked Erling.

The voice came up from the sobbing heap as from a grave. "My brother," he said.

Erling rose and put his hand on the man. "You are her only decent kin," he said. "You shall raise the child. You shall have Soti's house, and work his forge—you know the work—and have his property. Only this I demand—the child shall be christened, and brought to church each week. You need not be a Christian if you want it not, but Freydis has seen too much devilment."

Lemming made a lunge and caught Erling by the hand. "I'll die for you," he croaked.

 

We found Halla in the same women's house where Gunnlaug had given birth, propped up on cushions in a box bed. Erling walked to her, bent in and kissed her.

"I've brought Father Aillil," he said. "Will you marry me, Halla?"

Halla looked pale. "Now?" she asked.

"If you like. Or we can wait and do it properly, with feasting and music and rich gifts all around. I'll marry you any way you wish, if only you'll be my wife."

"It's very sudden."

"From God's point of view it's too long coming."

"But why?"

"Because I heard the tale of what you did the night of the sacrifice. And it came to me, like a blind man walking into a wall, that I'd never seen you as you are. I'd looked on you as a toy and a playmate, but you're a fine woman, equal to any in the land. If I marry any other, I'll rue it the rest of my life. Will you marry me, Halla?"

Halla passed a hand over her forehead. "I need time to think," she said. "Forgive me—since losing . . . since what happened I've thought new thoughts. I'm honored, and I love you very much, but will you let me go to my father's house awhile, and think and pray?"

Erling looked disappointed but said, "Anything you wish. I make you a promise, Halla. While you live, and while you are unwed, I will marry no other woman." He took her hand in his.

She drew the hand against her cheek. "Don't promise that," she said, her eyes shining.

"It's done, and I never break my word. Now eat, and rest, and go to your father when you will, and come back to me ready to be mistress of Sola."

 

"Not quite the outcome I'd looked for," said Erling when we were outside.

"I'm glad nonetheless," said I. "I've prayed for this."

"Yes, you saw Halla's worth from the start. You stung me, Father, I'll not deny it, when you questioned my word. I feel no shame in the matter of Olaf Trygvesson and Jarl Haakon, but my heart puckered as I thought of Halla. Father Ethelbald once told me that a man and woman who lie together become one flesh, and I saw of a sudden how much Halla had become a part of me. Then I came home and heard what she'd done, and I knew what I must do.

"Tell me, Father, what's it like when a man finds that the woman he's played with as a toy is a human soul to whom he owes the same honor and fair dealing he gives a fellow warrior?"

"Ah well, I'd say it's like finding yourself working and fighting among the grown men one day, and it comes to you that you're one of them, though it seems yesterday you were only a boy."

"Yes. As always, you have the words. In fact it may not be like becoming a man—it may be the thing itself. Perhaps I've never been a man till now."

"What does your mother think?"

"She doesn't know yet. She'll be none too pleased, but she likes Halla for all that and will get used to the idea. I hope I can say as much for my kinsmen in Hordaland."

"Do they disapprove of Halla?"

"No, but they greatly approve of Astrid Trygvesdatter. That was one of the matters we discussed up north. They want to wed me to Astrid to make peace with the Sigurdssons and Olaf Trygvesson."

"But Astrid's the lass you've dreamed of for years!"

"I heard a priest preach on a text once that said, `When I became a man I put off childish ways.' Astrid was a dream. Halla is a real woman, and my wife before God."

 

That left but one thing for me. I walked to my own house, where I knew I'd find Steinbjorg. I'd tell her we were safe—Soti and Ulvig were dead, Lemming had Soti's property and would surely sell her to me. I'd tell her I was not a priest, and that when a true priest came to Sola I'd confess to him, give up my office, do the penance he laid on me, and marry her. She wasn't Halla, but she was more than I deserved.

The moment I stepped over the threshold I knew something was horribly wrong. Blood has a smell. As my eyes made peace with the dimness, I could see the body by the hearth, and there was blood everywhere—gallons of blood—a sea of blood—

"I made the sacrifice, master."

There was Caedwy in the corner by the bed, hiding like a naughty child, eyes wide, still holding the bloody sickle, his clothing soaked in gore. I gaped at him.

"They stopped the sacrifice," he said. "But the sacrifice had to be made. I knew that's what you wanted. That's what the troll said too. We'll make a big basket and burn her properly—"

I ran at him and knocked the blade from his hand, cutting my own to the bone. I took him by the shirt and dragged him out into the sunlight and shouted, "A rope! Somebody get me a rope now!"

A thrall brought the rope, and I knotted it around Caedwy's scrawny neck, and I dragged him to the storehouse where they'd hanged Enda and flung the rope over the beam, and I hoisted him with my own hands, and held tight until his kicking ended and his breeches filled, and a while longer, while his cur dog leaped about me and barked.

Then I let him drop, and I went back to my house and took the horrid thing that would have been my wife in my arms, and I whispered secrets to it until it grew cold.

 

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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