The Half-Drowned King, page 12
“Svanhild does,” said Ragnvald. A part of him was enjoying this: Egil bending, Egil faltering. He had thought Egil his equal, but Ragnvald would not have lied in front of the gods.
Adisa’s father raised his hand. Ragnvald pointed to him. “Where was Solvi Hunthiofsson when Ragnvald was on the oars?” Adisa’s father asked. It was a juror’s right, to clarify anything he had questions about.
Egil glanced at Ragnvald and then at his father. “I don’t know.”
“Why were they dancing on the oars?” asked another juror.
“Solvi said he’d give a gold ring to whoever could run up and back on the oars,” said Egil.
“Who won? Who ran up and back?” the juror asked.
“The pilot’s son. And Ragnvald,” said Egil miserably. “Until he fell.”
“He fell? Did you see it?” the juror pressed.
Hrolf stepped forward. Egil was very close to being called a liar, and in front of a jury lying was a grave offense, for which Egil might stand trial later. “He said he didn’t see it,” said Hrolf.
Adisa’s father spoke again. “Ragnvald Eysteinsson, do you believe that Egil saw you fall?”
Ragnvald glanced at Egil. He still did not wish to call Egil a coward in front of the men of Sogn, and that was how this story would sound. “Solvi pulled his dagger. Egil saw—something. I think he moved to help, but too many men stood in his way.”
“Is this true?” asked the juror. “Did you see the dagger?”
Egil nodded, then spoke tremulously. “I saw Solvi’s dagger.”
“Did you see him stab Ragnvald?” Hrolf asked.
Egil shook his head no.
Hrolf turned to Ragnvald. “Has my son lied today? Do you accuse him of that?”
“No,” said Ragnvald. If he accused Egil, Hrolf would be against him, and if he could not prove that accusation, he would owe Egil payment for the insult. Slowly, measuring out the power he held, he said, “I do not accuse him.”
Another juror spoke. “Egil Hrolfsson, is it possible Ragnvald could have received this wound after falling out of the boat?”
Egil nodded.
“You must speak an answer,” said Hrolf.
“It is possible,” said Egil.
“Does anyone wish to question Egil further?” Hrolf asked. The jury stayed quiet. Ragnvald looked around the circle, trying to find faces that looked sympathetic to him, avoiding the faces of anyone he knew.
“No,” Ragnvald said, finally.
“Do you wish to call any other witnesses?” Hrolf asked.
Ragnvald looked around the circle slowly. He still did not see Svanhild anywhere, and he began to grow worried. She would not have missed this moment. She should have been clamoring to speak.
“Do you have any other witnesses?” Hrolf asked.
“I see a few other men from my voyage standing with Solvi Hunthiofsson,” Ragnvald said. “Would any of them speak for me?”
Solvi’s men betrayed even less with their expressions than did Solvi. Ragnvald was not surprised; he had only mentioned them to make sure the jury knew that any other men who might speak for him today stood with Solvi. Two of them had, indeed, stood behind Solvi when he had stabbed Ragnvald, keeping any of the other men from rushing to his aid. They would be no help.
Ragnvald waited, watching them. The crowd looked to Solvi too. “They do not speak,” said Ragnvald finally. He handed the speaking stick to Hrolf, who banged it on a stone until there was silence.
“Solvi Hunthiofsson,” said Hrolf. “You have been accused of wounding this man, Ragnvald, on the face, with the intent to kill him. You may now defend yourself.” He held the stick out to Solvi. Solvi leapt up on one of the log seats, waving off the stick as though he did not need its authority. He grinned at the assembled crowd. He had ever been their favorite, from when he was a small fierce boy, made doubly fierce by surviving his burning. He had been the first into any trouble and the last out of it. He could turn them back to his cause now, Ragnvald knew, with little more effort than it took to flash his teeth at them.
Solvi had opened his mouth to speak when a commotion from beyond the circle drew all eyes. Ragnvald saw a woman run up and for a moment did not recognize Svanhild in such disarray. Svanhild bent over to catch her breath, her hair barely restrained by a soiled wimple, her mouth reddened.
“Solvi Hunthiofsson speaks now,” said Hrolf loudly.
Ragnvald looked back at Solvi and was surprised at what he saw. Solvi looked stricken, pained at Svanhild’s appearance. Ragnvald did not know why, but he realized suddenly that Svanhild had been the woman Solvi had been riding with, and that was why no one had spoken her name to him. Solvi must have said something to her that he would not want repeated—which was why he looked so shocked. Ragnvald would scold Svanhild later for her rashness; now it seemed as though it might help him.
Solvi glanced around, more ill at ease than Ragnvald had ever seen him. Then he seemed to make a decision. He smiled again, a little abashed.
“Ragnvald sailed with me,” he said. The voice that commanded warships rang out over the plain. “And yes, I gave him that wound.”
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Solvi smiled as a shocked roar rose from the crowd. He glanced at Svanhild, who planted her hands on her hips. Ragnvald looked as though he had been rooted to the ground.
“I wish I hadn’t, now,” Solvi continued. He turned his gaze to the jurors; he could not keep his tone as light as he must if he continued watching Svanhild. He could still hold them, charm them, hope they would see him as a mischievous boy too bold to stay out of scrapes but too honest not to own up to them.
“Ragnvald deserves his share of the treasure we raided. And I’ll pay the wergild.” He looked down at Ragnvald from his perch. “But if you try to fight me . . .” He grinned again, this one sharp-edged. “Your family will not like to pay the cost.”
Svanhild’s eyes narrowed. “He admits it,” she said, only loudly enough so those nearest Solvi and Hrolf could hear. “But there is more. I heard him talking to my stepfather, Olaf Ottarsson. Olaf paid—”
Ragnvald stepped forward eagerly.
“Quiet, girl,” said Hrolf. “No one asked you to speak.”
Ragnvald held up a hand. “I must talk with my sister. She knows more.” He looked around, as if for support. “She will testify against Olaf. It is not only Solvi who compassed this.”
“No,” said Hrolf. “You have made suit against Solvi, and you have won.” He banged his stick on a rock for silence. “Since there is no argument about what happened, if the jury does not object, I will set the sentence.”
“There is an argument,” said Svanhild. “Ragnvald, this is your chance.”
Ragnvald hesitated.
Be a clever boy, Solvi thought, take what is offered, and wait to take more later.
Hrolf named the price for the injury, a double handful of silver, a price both high and fair. Solvi voiced his agreement. He could afford the injury price with treasure he had brought.
“Are you satisfied with this?” Hrolf asked Ragnvald. “Will you consider the matter closed?”
Ragnvald took a deep breath and drew his shoulders back. The look on his face made Solvi nervous. This should be enough. Ragnvald had been a cautious warrior when he fought for Solvi. He would not overstep now.
“Ragnvald,” said Svanhild again. “I can help you. Please. We must.”
Ragnvald glanced at Solvi, a moment’s indecision in his expression, before he frowned and set his jaw. “No. I say that Solvi did not act alone,” he said. “I say that my stepfather Olaf threatened, bribed, or otherwise compassed my murder with him. I say that he did this to keep my father’s land from me, and now that I am old enough to be counted a man, he should turn my land over to me. I say that my sister Svanhild will testify to what they plotted.” He looked at Svanhild, who nodded.
Solvi stepped forward and said quietly to him, “Be warned, I will not let that accusation stand.”
“Why not?” said Ragnvald angrily, stepping back and speaking so the whole crowd could hear. “I thought you were in a truth-telling mood.”
“Leave it be,” said Solvi, still under his breath. “You will not like what follows.”
“Oh, are you a prophet now?” Ragnvald asked.
“An accusation has been made, unless you’d like to withdraw it,” said Hrolf.
Ragnvald turned to the crowd and said, “No, I do not. Why deal me this wound? Why throw me in the water?”
Solvi took the speaking stick, too aware of Svanhild watching him. “Who said anything about killing?” he asked. “Is it not the duty of a captain to lesson his men?” He punctuated his gestures with the stick. Men around the circle nodded in agreement. “This boy, Ragnvald, fell, injured, without his treasure, and I thought to make him whole again. Now he levies baseless accusations against me and his honored stepfather. I demand payment for this insult.” He passed the speaking staff to Hrolf.
“Solvi Hunthiofsson is not the only one insulted here today,” said Hrolf. “Does Olaf Ottarsson wish to respond to these charges?”
“It’s not an insult if it’s true,” said Ragnvald.
“You’ve had your turn,” said Hrolf in an angry undertone.
Olaf paced across the ground slowly, deliberately. He took the stick from Hrolf, frowning, every inch the disappointed parent. Solvi would have admired his acting skills under other circumstances. “I would take responsibility for this,” said Olaf, “but Ragnvald has seen twenty winters now. He must take responsibility for his own choices.”
“Do you deny these charges?” Hrolf asked.
“Of course I do,” said Olaf. “If my honor is in doubt, surely no one could doubt the son of King Hunthiof.”
“Then it is decided,” said Hrolf.
“I have made a new accusation,” said Ragnvald. “You must allow me to call and question my sister.”
“She is a girl-child,” said Olaf scornfully. “She cannot testify.”
“A woman may testify, if no men were present to witness what she testifies to,” said Ragnvald. “Were any men present to witness what you saw?” he asked Svanhild.
“The only men present were those accused,” Svanhild’s voice rang out, high and girlish. “They spoke of what Ragnvald says. I will swear to it.” Her eyes blazed at Solvi.
Solvi edged closer to Ragnvald. “And I will deny it, and so will your stepfather. Your sister will be shamed, and you will owe a greater amount than you can ever repay,” he said quietly. “Do not make her do this.”
Ragnvald drew away from him again. “Surely you know already that no one can make my sister do anything.”
“Yes,” said Solvi. “But for a brother she loves . . .” He wanted to shake Ragnvald. He had seen a chance of winning Svanhild’s affections again. She had liked him very well the day before, without disdaining his height, or the scarred legs that made him so short. She could like him again, this bold and pretty girl.
This would not go well for Ragnvald, and Svanhild would never forgive Solvi if he called her liar in front of all the men of her district. Ragnvald looked like a ship’s pilot caught between rocks and a heavy sea. His brows were drawn together; under them, his eyes were worried. He stepped toward Hrolf with his hand outstretched to take the speaking stick from him, but stopped. He glanced at Solvi, then Svanhild, then back to Solvi again. Svanhild opened her mouth to speak, and Ragnvald stepped forward.
“I withdraw my accusation,” said Ragnvald, finally, to Solvi. “I accept the payment Hrolf set.” He turned to Olaf. “I will still have my land. Unless you want to withdraw the promise you made to my father.”
Solvi breathed out a sigh of relief.
“I do not accept,” said Olaf. “Let the lying girl testify, let all know what a worthless son Ragnvald has been to me. I want payment for this insult. The land will never be yours. It will belong to my sons, Sigurd and Hallbjorn. I was the one who held the land when your father could not.”
“My father’s bones lie in that land. It is mine,” said Ragnvald angrily.
“Let the land be forfeit, then,” said Hrolf. He was friends with Olaf, Solvi remembered. He and Olaf had arranged the betrothal between Ragnvald and Hilda, and now they would both want it called off.
“I withdraw my accusation,” said Ragnvald again, his eyes blank with fear.
“It was spoken,” said Olaf. “I demand payment.”
“It was spoken,” said Hrolf. “Let Solvi’s payment for the injury go to Olaf Ottarsson, and let Olaf keep his land for his sons. He has earned that much.”
“I do not agree to this,” said Solvi. He had already regretted his father’s alliance with Olaf, and this was too much, that Olaf should be paid for being too cowardly to kill Ragnvald himself.
“It is true that a spoken insult is not the same as an insult wound,” said Hrolf. “Let Olaf be paid a third of Solvi’s price, and Ragnvald be paid nothing. Does that serve?”
Olaf looked like he did not know who he hated more, Ragnvald or Solvi, and Ragnvald appeared to have a similar conflict of mind. Solvi had not thought they looked anything alike until that moment of offended dignity.
Solvi glanced at Svanhild. Hrolf had overstepped himself; this was needlessly cruel to Ragnvald. “Ragnvald deserves his payment for his injury,” said Solvi. “And I have nothing to say about this business of land. It seems ill-done that a boy should lose his father’s bones over a hasty accusation.” The time for winning grins was over, even if he could muster one. “Property disputes are heard tomorrow, are they not? You are law speaker here.” A murmur of agreement sounded from the assembly. “Is this done now?” he asked wearily.
“Then let these be the terms,” said Hrolf. “Ragnvald must render to Olaf a third of the payment he receives from Solvi. The rest he may keep.” Ragnvald clenched his teeth so tightly Solvi thought he might break one.
“Do all agree?” Hrolf asked again.
The jury all raised their hands in agreement.
Ragnvald and Olaf nodded, each wearing the same sullen expression.
“Are you satisfied?” asked Hrolf again, in a tone of voice that said Ragnvald had better be.
“I am,” said Ragnvald. He bowed his head and spoke the formal words: “I swear to accept this verdict, in the name of Tyr, the giver of laws. I will seek neither blood, nor further payment in recompense for this crime.” He gestured to the red seam on his cheek.
Solvi’s sympathy swung briefly back to Ragnvald. At least he had a reason to feel wronged. And had the dignity to employ the proper formula, while Olaf still looked angry enough to spit nails.
“What of my father’s land?” Ragnvald asked Hrolf. “You do ill to try to give that away.”
“We will settle that tomorrow, when disputes of property are heard,” said Hrolf.
“Come,” said Solvi to Ragnvald. “I will discharge my debt.” Ragnvald followed him out of the ring.
* * *
Solvi walked ahead of Ragnvald, self-conscious about his limp, until his men fell in around him, forming a protective wall. They could keep physical threats off him, but could not advise him how to proceed here. Solvi bid his men stay outside the tent to give him privacy.
It was a small tent, the same one that he pitched against his ship’s mast to keep out of a storm. It could be carried by a single horse. Inside was tall enough for him to stand up, while Ragnvald was forced to stoop. If Solvi had come as his father’s representative, he might have brought a larger one, but he came for himself, because the trials entertained him. And, it seemed, because his fate, his wyrd, had drawn him here, to Svanhild Eysteinsdatter. Or Ragnvaldssoster, he thought, smiling to himself.
“I have a ring like the one you should have won in the race,” said Solvi. “It is worth more than the weight of silver imposed in Hrolf’s sentence.”
Ragnvald had been shifting from foot to foot. Now he burst out, “I don’t understand you.”
Solvi suddenly felt ages older than Ragnvald, though only five years lay between them. Ragnvald had behaved like a fool today. Solvi wished he had never heard of Ragnvald or his stepfather.
“Understanding was not part of your payment,” he said. Here was an opening. “But if you like, consider my . . . generosity a payment for your good opinion. Tell your sister you and I have come to an accord. Tell her she has nothing to fear from me.”
“You think you can buy her acceptance? Of you?” Ragnvald asked.
Solvi pulled the thick band of yellow gold from his own arm and tossed it to Ragnvald. “Will that do?”
“It’s enough for me. I had not that much beauty to lose.” Ragnvald held the gold, and stroked it with his thumb. “I will tell my sister what you’ve done, and why,” he said, quirking the unwounded corner of his mouth. “That is all I can promise.”
Solvi bristled at Ragnvald’s expression. He had been generous to Ragnvald, when his choice to speak had changed Ragnvald’s fate in the trial circle. Ragnvald was fallen and disgraced from an already fallen family, and still he kept his sister from Solvi. Few of Solvi’s warriors did not have a king of some small district among their forefathers, yet Ragnvald thought his grandfather still made him exceptional.
“No one will respect you after today,” said Solvi. “Do you truly think tomorrow will bring you your land back? You will not win that one with words, and you will not hold that land without killing him. Bring a sword next time.” He spoke to anger Ragnvald, who had always been quick to defend his dignity. Ragnvald should not smile at him, as though he knew a secret Solvi did not.
Ragnvald laughed out loud, not happily. Solvi’s words had found their mark. “You accuse me of wanting impossible things, when you ask for my sister’s good opinion?” he said. “There is nothing I could tell her to make her love you any better. Svanhild makes up her own mind.”
“She would defy her brother?” Solvi asked.
“Easily,” said Ragnvald, “even if I ordered her into your bed.” Solvi had to revise his opinion of Ragnvald again. Ragnvald, usually disdainful and touchy, seemed unconcerned about his sister’s defiance, seemed even to take pride in it. Solvi, who had been raised with few women about him, and none of noble birth, could not understand this, but he risked looking even more ridiculous if he asked Ragnvald to say any more on his behalf to Svanhild.
