for it was pastmilking-time. And feeling myself a stranger among all these folk who were Thormod’s folk and none of mine. I turned in search of the cattle fold that was something familiar in an alien world.
I was leaning over the hurdle gate, snuffing the warm comforting smell of the beasts, when I heard Thormod’s great shout raised above the voices and the harpsong behind me. ‘
Sea Swallow! Sea Swallow
! To me!’ And knew the call was for me.
So I left the friendly cattle and went back into Thormod’s world, into the crowd and the flare of torches before the house-place door.
And then Thormod’s arm was across my shoulders, and Thormod was swinging me round to the torchlit faces, saying, ‘Here he is – Jestyn, my shoulder-to-shoulder-man – come back with me from West-over-seas!’
7 The Blood Brotherhood
AFTERWARDS, THROUGH THE fog of next morning’s headache, I had very little memory of that funeral feast. Only one thing I remembered clearly: and that, when the night was already worn on a good way, was Thorn, the blind harper, getting to his feet, saying, ‘Now I will make a new song – a song for the two who go out from here with the mark of the Blood Feud on their foreheads. Two brothers against two brothers, who will not turn back before all be finished, and the Death songs sung for those who are to die.’ And I was vaguely wretched, and took no heed of the song at all.
That day, the Master of Sitricstead was howe-laid among his kin, and the folk from other farms all went away. And in the dark of the following night I woke in the loft above the cattle stalls, and found Thormod missing from his hollow in the hay beside me.
At first I thought that he had gone out to make water, and would soon be back; and I lay watching a white line of moonlight that slipped through a chink in the thatch, and waiting. But the white line moved to pick out a bent grass-stem, to a dry cloverhead, casting its tiny clear shadow below it; and he did not come. And then fear came upon me. I had taken it as a settled thing that I was going with Thormod on the road to Miklagard, but as it had been when the
Sea Swallow
was made ready for the homeward way, so it was now. No word actually spoken between us. And Dark Thorn had sung of two brothers . . . But that did not really fit, because it had been settled that Sitric was to bide with the steading . . . I was too much afraid to think straight, or I might have taken comfort from that.
How if Thormod had sought to avoid all farewells byslipping away in the night and leaving us simply to wake in the morning and find him gone on his lonely road? If I had stopped to look about me, I would have seen that his few belongings were still where he had left them. But fear had me by the throat.
I had lain down to sleep in the usual way in breeks and under-sark, and had only to pull on my raw-hide shoes and rough wadmal tunic, and stick in my belt the hunting-knife that was my only possession, and I stood ready to go.
Then, torn between the need for speed and the need for silence, I slid over the edge of the loft floor, felt with my feet for the edge of the cattle stall beneath, and dropped as lightly as I could into the central aisle.
In the living-place at the far end, I could just make out the red glow of the smoored fire. One of the dogs stirred and growled a little, though not much for they were used to night-time comings and goings, and Sitric cursed him without properly waking up, from the big box bed. I checked, holding my breath, and the dog subsided, grumbling; and I went on. The door was on the snib, as Thormod must have left it, and I opened it as silently as might be, and slipped out and across the sleeping steading-garth. The hurdle gate had been hauled aside. Thormod had certainly gone that way, but would he have left it open if he were not coming back? Doubt began to creep in beside the fear within me, but I had to know. I had to know.
So I too stepped out on to the
I was leaning over the hurdle gate, snuffing the warm comforting smell of the beasts, when I heard Thormod’s great shout raised above the voices and the harpsong behind me. ‘
Sea Swallow! Sea Swallow
! To me!’ And knew the call was for me.
So I left the friendly cattle and went back into Thormod’s world, into the crowd and the flare of torches before the house-place door.
And then Thormod’s arm was across my shoulders, and Thormod was swinging me round to the torchlit faces, saying, ‘Here he is – Jestyn, my shoulder-to-shoulder-man – come back with me from West-over-seas!’
7 The Blood Brotherhood
AFTERWARDS, THROUGH THE fog of next morning’s headache, I had very little memory of that funeral feast. Only one thing I remembered clearly: and that, when the night was already worn on a good way, was Thorn, the blind harper, getting to his feet, saying, ‘Now I will make a new song – a song for the two who go out from here with the mark of the Blood Feud on their foreheads. Two brothers against two brothers, who will not turn back before all be finished, and the Death songs sung for those who are to die.’ And I was vaguely wretched, and took no heed of the song at all.
That day, the Master of Sitricstead was howe-laid among his kin, and the folk from other farms all went away. And in the dark of the following night I woke in the loft above the cattle stalls, and found Thormod missing from his hollow in the hay beside me.
At first I thought that he had gone out to make water, and would soon be back; and I lay watching a white line of moonlight that slipped through a chink in the thatch, and waiting. But the white line moved to pick out a bent grass-stem, to a dry cloverhead, casting its tiny clear shadow below it; and he did not come. And then fear came upon me. I had taken it as a settled thing that I was going with Thormod on the road to Miklagard, but as it had been when the
Sea Swallow
was made ready for the homeward way, so it was now. No word actually spoken between us. And Dark Thorn had sung of two brothers . . . But that did not really fit, because it had been settled that Sitric was to bide with the steading . . . I was too much afraid to think straight, or I might have taken comfort from that.
How if Thormod had sought to avoid all farewells byslipping away in the night and leaving us simply to wake in the morning and find him gone on his lonely road? If I had stopped to look about me, I would have seen that his few belongings were still where he had left them. But fear had me by the throat.
I had lain down to sleep in the usual way in breeks and under-sark, and had only to pull on my raw-hide shoes and rough wadmal tunic, and stick in my belt the hunting-knife that was my only possession, and I stood ready to go.
Then, torn between the need for speed and the need for silence, I slid over the edge of the loft floor, felt with my feet for the edge of the cattle stall beneath, and dropped as lightly as I could into the central aisle.
In the living-place at the far end, I could just make out the red glow of the smoored fire. One of the dogs stirred and growled a little, though not much for they were used to night-time comings and goings, and Sitric cursed him without properly waking up, from the big box bed. I checked, holding my breath, and the dog subsided, grumbling; and I went on. The door was on the snib, as Thormod must have left it, and I opened it as silently as might be, and slipped out and across the sleeping steading-garth. The hurdle gate had been hauled aside. Thormod had certainly gone that way, but would he have left it open if he were not coming back? Doubt began to creep in beside the fear within me, but I had to know. I had to know.
So I too stepped out on to the
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