Written by Angmar, Elfhild and Gordis.
From his vantage point against the tall tree, Griss looked over the camp. Uffi had died sometime during the night. The man had been a simpleton to let himself be wounded so easily. Now that little weasel Kvigr was making a stir about it, even going through the old ritual required for burial. "At least he has volunteered to plant Uffi," Griss thought with a feeling of satisfaction. "We don't want the corpse lying around, stinking up the camp. At least the little pup is good for something."
Let the dog have his little ceremony! Griss wouldn't say anything. He finished cleaning his nails with his knife and sheathed the blade as he watched Kvigr and the shaman disappear into the forest with the horse carrying the body of Uffi.
They had been gone some minutes when the thought suddenly struck Griss:
"Maybe after he buries the body, Kvigr will just keep going." The thought was certainly sobering. He must alert Heggr; the two of them should follow Kvigr, and after he had dug the grave, they could kill him.
"Perfect," Griss thought. "He has dug his own grave!"
He brought his fingers to his lips and whistled, the signal for Heggr to join him. No response! The fool was still sleeping! Griss sprinted to the lean-to that the two shared.
"You dim-witted sluggard! Didn't you hear my whistle?" Griss muttered as he shook Heggr awake.
"What?" Heggr mumbled sleepily.
"Get up! The prey is escaping!"
As the two men came out of the lean-to, they heard the Jarl bellow, "Where has the wench Aewen gone?"
---
Aewen shrank deeper into the woods as she heard the two men approach. From her hiding place behind the bole of a large tree, she watched as a large form fell into the underbrush and listened in to the subsequent words exchanged by Kvigr and the shaman. She sighed in relief when the old man walked away, but she did not move until she heard Kvigr's voice.
"Lady Aewen, are you here?"
"Yes, I am here," Aewen murmured as she emerged from the woods.
Kvigr smiled warmly, pausing momentarily to allow his eyes to take in the lady's beauty. "I am glad you could get away." He lowered his voice, looking around suspiciously. "Did anyone see you coming?"
"No," she shook her head. "When I left, Broggha was snoring deeply; he does not even know that I am gone." Her cheeks flamed with a furious blush, but the shadows under the trees hid her color from Kvigr's view. Still, she turned her head away, as though looking off in the distance.
"Good," Kvigr nodded.
Aewen looked back at Kvigr. "So what is the plan?" she asked quickly, changing the subject.
"I volunteered to take Uffi's body a goodly distance from camp and bury him behind the hill yonder." He pointed in that direction. "The shaman has gone ahead to advise the guards of my coming. Quick, allow me to assist you in climbing upon the horse's back. Then, when you are settled, I will tie you to the horse and throw the cloak over you. The sentries will think that it is Uffi who I am taking out of the camp. When we have ridden away to a safe distance, I will untie you and you can ride behind me. Then I will urge the horse into a gallop and we will make our escape."
"You are going to tie me to the horse?" she asked uncertainly, her eyebrows raising. Perhaps she had made a mistake in trusting this man... perhaps he did not wish to save her at all, and only wanted her for himself!
Kvigr guessed what she was thinking, and he winced slightly. But what reason did she have to trust him? Had he not kept company with outlaws? "Do not be afraid! You can trust me! Hurry, because soon the sun will be rising!"
Aewen hesitated a moment, but only a moment, for she heard the sounds of Broggha's earth-shaking bellows. Her body suddenly leaped into life - her heart pounding, breath coming quickly, hands trembling, palms clammy. The fear of Kvigr was far less right now than the fear of Broggha, and so, with the young man's help, she scrambled upon the back of the horse, unflinching as he lightly tied her down.
Then Kvigr was in the saddle, and urged the beast into a quick walk...
The Jarl's great, bellowing voice could be heard over much the camp. "Where is that strumpet, Aewen?!"
---
All who heard him could tell that the Jarl was as enraged as a bull when someone gets too near his herd. Griss looked towards the longhouse and gulped; Heggr turned a stomach-sick pale shade of ash. If the woman wasn't found, things would not be pleasant around the camp for a long time.
When the men reported that every shed, lean-to, cellar and storage bin had been searched with no sign of the woman, the Jarl turned cold. He was worse when he did not say much. "Then you know he is in a killing mood," Griss thought uncomfortably. There was no point in giving excuses or apologies for their failure. The Jarl was implacable when he was angry.
"Search the area around the camp. If you can't find her there, spread out and comb the countryside," the Jarl said calmly and coolly.
Griss was put in charge of a group of ten men sent out to fan around the camp in ever-widening circles. Griss picked Heggr to accompany them. Heggr was almost worthless at tracking; a bear could leave an obvious trail and Heggr might not notice it. When it came to ransacking huts and cottages, though, Heggr was amazing. He could find every last turnip, parsnip, apple, ham, slab of bacon, keg of ale and mead, no matter how cleverly they had been hidden. Although Heggr would do them little good, Griss still liked to have the man with him. They had been together a long time, all the way back to the days of petty thievery and livestock stealing.
Everything close to the camp was searched, every place but... The cemetery! "Interesting," Griss thought. He had seen the woman talking to Kvigr shortly before the Jarl had called her to the longhouse. And Kvigr later took Uffi's body to be buried in the cemetery! Maybe the two of them...!
"Men! To the cemetery! Maybe we will find the woman there, loved up with that dog Kvigr!"
"Should we kill him on sight?" Heggr asked hopefully.
"No, the Jarl will want to deal with them himself. Take him alive!"
---
Kvigr urged his horse into a fast walk, Aewen's body dangling across the saddle in front of him. As nervous as he were, he couldn't stop his eyes from lingering on the soft curves of her body, outlined by the cloak. He never had an opportunity to be with a woman, only listened, elated and ashamed, to the soldiers ribald talk. Aewen was far more beautiful than anyone he had seen before. He felt a deep longing somewhere in the pit of his stomach, and trailed a hesitant, suddenly clammy hand along her spine and rump. Aewen lay as if dead.
Wistful thoughts ran through Kvigr's mind. What if, when he saves her, she would come to love him? Of course, Aewen was far above him on the social scale, but now, ruined and befouled, perhaps she will deign to notice his love and devotion?
Lulled by his daydreams, Kvigr was startled when two men rushed out of the thick bushes, swords at the ready. One seized the nag's reins and asked. "What is your name and business, pup?"
"I am Kvigr, and that is Uffi. He died this night." Kvigr replied, indicating Aewen's body in front of him. He was surprised how cool his voice sounded. "Hrani sent me to bury him, lest he stinks all over the camp."
One of the sentries nodded. "Hrani was here and warned us. You can go on, pup, but Sterki will go with you. He will show you the place and make sure you are up to no mischief."
Kvigr started to protest, his heart suddenly cold, but the leader had already vanished into the trees. Sterki, a dangerous-looking man with an angry livid scar, grinned at him mirthlessly. The scar across his face looked like a second toothless mouth, a sight that made Kvigr shiver.
"Come, laddie," beckoned the man and led the way over the hill, his brown hand firmly clutching the nag's harness. They went through a pine grove on a small hillock and descended down a steep slope into a ravine. The ground was soft there, and Kvigr noticed a number of small mounds, marked by stones, all around him.
"Get down and pick your place, laddie - the ground is cheap here," Sterki grinned again. When Kvigr complied, Sterki tied the horse's reins to a pine, sat on the ground, his back to a large boulder, and started filling his pipe. Kvigr knew he had to kill this man, it was the only way out. But Kvigr was an archer, and he doubted he could best Sterki with only a rusty knife he had. But there was also the spade...
Kvigr gripped the spade and approached the horse. Aewen was hanging there utterly still, like a dead body. Kvigr feigned to struggle with a knot that held the body in place, tightening it further instead. Then, he pleaded in a thin, hesitant voice, "Give me a hand here, please, Mister Sterki! I can't undo Hrani's knot."
Grinning even wider, Sterki made some unflattering comments about Kvigr's mental and physical abilities, as well as about the questionable virtue of his mother. Kvigr's jaw tightened. Now he felt no qualms about killing the man.
Sterki didn't waste his time untying the knot, but proceeded to cut the rope with a long, gleaming knife. When his back was turned, Kvigr brought the spade down on his head with all the force he could muster. Sterki fell down soundlessly, spilling his blood onto the green moss.
"Get up into the saddle, let us gallop away!" Kvigr cried to Aewen, snatching away the concealing cloak.
At this moment an arrow whizzed past his head. Several men were closing on him with drawn swords. They were surrounded. Aewen screamed. With his last sane thought, Kvigr pressed Uffi's knife into Aewen's hand.
"Take it; you may need it," he whispered. The knife disappeared beneath Aewen's clothes.
With a plea for forgiveness in her eyes, she stepped away from Kvigr, turned to the woods behind them and sped away.
"After her!" Griss cried, and two of the men separated from the party, chasing off in the direction which the girl had taken.
Kvigr's eyes gleamed with desperation as he assumed a defensive pose, attempting to fend off his attackers with the spade. The first to reach him was Griss, who, sword drawn, circled around Kvigr. Swinging at him with his spade, Kvigr came close to landing several blows, but Griss quickly darted out of his reach. The rest of the men soon caught up with him and were about to rush at Kvigr when Griss put his hand down, a signal not to attack.
"Come on, pup," Griss taunted, "let's see what the spade is good for besides digging your grave!"
The other men laughed as Kvigr swung once again but Griss kept just beyond his swings. The young man was quick, but was not an experienced swordsman like Griss. Griss was in no rush and knew that the constant wielding of the heavy spade would eventually tire his foe. Griss was obviously enjoying himself as he evaded Kvigr's strikes, toying with him, darting in here and now to deliver a minor cut to an arm, a cheek.
A panting Kvigr raised the spade once again. Griss ducked under the swinging spade and slashed at Kvigr's forearm, drawing more blood. The weapon fell out of the wounded man's hands with a crash.
"I should kill you!" Griss raised his sword and bore down upon the wounded man, slashing minor blows on first one arm, then the other. The blood was flowing freely from Kvigr's face, arms and chest as he groaned in pain. Kvigr teetered, grimacing, and Griss motioned for the other men to move forward. Soon Kvigr was thrown to the ground, his hands bound behind his back, a noosed rope around his neck.
From a safe vantage point against a tree, Heggr gibed, "You really messed up good, Griss! I don't think he can bury Uffi and Sterki now!"
"Not necessary," Griss smiled wickedly as he wiped the blood off his sword with a dirty rag and then sheathed the blade. Bending down and picking up the spade, he threw it to Heggr. "Here, you can dig one for all three of them!"
Heggr groaned as he wrinkled his nose in a distasteful expression and then shrugged.
"Heggr, we'll join you at the camp. You can take the horse back and get Uffi where we found him in the bushes. Dig the hole deep! We don't want any scavengers digging up the carrion. Downwind from the cemetery, those carcasses would stink us out!"
Turning his attention back to the prisoner, Griss nodded to one of the men. "You bind up his arm. We don't want him bleeding to death before we get back to camp. The Jarl probably has something real good in mind for him already. What do you think it will be, boy?" Griss turned his smirking face to Kvigr, but the young man was silent.
After Kvigr's worst wound was attended to, Griss and his remaining seven men began to march back to camp. Jarl Broggha was waiting for them in the large open area that he used when he called the men for assembly. Ignoring the bound Kvigr, he leveled his steely gaze on Griss.
"Where is the woman? Did any harm come to her?"
"Jarl," Griss inclined his head in a respectful bow, "no, the woman was not injured. She tried to escape and I sent two men after her. I expect they will be here shortly."
"I expect they will, too," the Jarl said menacingly, "or your head will soon be gracing a pike outside the door of my longhouse!"
"Aye, Jarl," Griss looked to the leader, "there will be no failure."
The Jarl nodded. "Now take this dog and put him in one of the sheds under heavy guard."
"Will you kill him soon, Jarl?" Griss asked, the eagerness showing in his voice.
"No," Broggha said slowly, "we are going to have a trial for him. His old friend Algeirr might want to stand up for him."
Griss shuddered. He knew exactly what the Jarl meant. Anyone who would dare say a good word about a man who had offended the Jarl would suffer the other man's own fate... maybe worse.
"When the woman is found..." the Jarl was smiling now, the kind of no-smile that didn't reach the eyes that all of Broggha's men had come to fear. "Bind her to the whipping post, over there. I am going to give her a flogging that she won't soon forget, and let it be a lesson to both her and Maleneth!"
The Jarl glanced towards the doorway of the longhouse, where Maleneth had been watching and listening.