The Fighting Man. Adrian Deans
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‘Men fall to the swords of other men less by lack of skill and more by lack of wind. He that can hold his sword up the longest has the better hope of victory. Practice by holding the sword out at shoulder height until you can keep it up for an hour.’
That made sense to me and I resolved to start practising immediately, but Carl gathered up the hoard and started back towards Valla’s fire.
‘Come Brand … there is much to discuss.’
∞ ∞ ∞
Valla was typically moody and aloof when we returned, but she examined the gear and chose for herself a quiver of arrows (she had her own bow), the lightest of the belts, a whetstone and a long, pale knife decorated with runes and a dragon coiling about the hilt. It looked familiar and I felt a moment’s regret that I hadn’t claimed that for myself, but Valla was more than entitled to her share of the plunder.
She stirred more herbs and water into the remains of the broth, and to my disgust fed the last of the boiled hare to the dog who wolfed it down in seconds.
‘Malgard is healing,’ she said with satisfaction, causing Carl to stare at her in confusion – as though she was divining.
‘I’ve named the dog Malgard,’ I explained, and Carl laughed grimly.
‘You have a dangerous sense of humour young Brand … no wonder God takes an interest in you.’
Valla had heard my story concerning commune with God and snorted with amusement.
‘Takes an interest,’ she laughed. ‘Give me a sign Lord, cried Brand … and lo, the horse shat!’
She was at least sounding less unfriendly, and once again I found myself keenly aware of her strange attraction. She was not at all like the ladies of my father’s household – or the village – not that I had known that many. She was wiry and thin, festooned with furs and short breeches that looked to be made of harts hide. Her hair, as I’ve said, was long and black – tied into two thick braids and crowned with bluebells. And her face was brown with full, pink lips and green-black eyes blazing fiercely at me once again.
‘What are you staring at?’
‘Nothing,’ I stammered, beginning to suspect she was as privy to my thoughts as God seemed to be.
‘Good … so when are you leaving?’
‘Erm … well … today I suppose. I have to get to Lundene.’
‘If you will … I’ll come with you,’ said Carl. ‘I would see Lundene … and you’ll need a witness when you accuse Malgard before the king.’
As he spoke, I was aware of how daunting was my task. Malgard was a man, who had fought with my father in the king’s fyrd and had doubtless many friends and supporters. No-one knew me, and even if I did manage to come before the king, there would be plenty prepared to side with Malgard – a man they knew and with whom they’d stood in the shield wall.
‘Thank you Carl,’ I nodded. ‘I look forward to your company … only, do you know in which direction Lundene lies?’
‘Alas, my home is in the north,’ said Carl. ‘All I know is that Lundene is a great city in the south … on the Temes.’
‘You must go to Gipeswic,’ said Valla. ‘It is not far from here, down the Arwan. From there you can take a ship … there are many fleece barges which ply between Gipeswic and Lundene.’
‘He cannot go to Gipeswic,’ said Carl. ‘At least … not with me. My former Danish masters sailed up the Arwan, past Gipeswic, and must return that way. In all likelihood, they’ll stop for trade and to visit the inns and stews around the docks. I have no desire to be recaptured.’
Valla considered for a few moments, then she said, ‘I can put you on the western road to Lundene … but have no desire to leave my own domain. I will take you to my border and no further.’
Inwardly I bridled at her reference to her domain – this land was all my domain, now that my father was dead – but if I wanted her help …
‘There is a condition,’ she continued, ‘if you want my assistance.’
‘Name it.’
‘If your claim is recognised by the king, you must grant to me this forest … forever.’
I was shocked – not so much by her ambition, as by the realisation that I had left the world of childish fair play behind and that life from now on would be a constant wary struggle – not only against warriors and assassins, but also against sharp merchants and courtiers who would steal my property if they could.
‘That seems a high price for a guide.’
‘Nevertheless … it is my price.’
‘I might consider giving you the run of the forest … with rights to harvest timber, game and fruits.’
‘Enjoy your trip to Lundene then … give my regards to the king, if he still lives when you find him.’
I stared at her for a moment, suddenly feeling the need for urgency.
‘Alright … I’ll grant you a portion of the forest … from here to the place you killed the Danish dog.’
It was a generous offer – if made under duress – but she wasn’t satisfied. After some further consideration, I realised I was loath to part with Valla – for all her strangeness and moods – and it was liable to spoil my judgment.
‘Alright, I will grant you the entire forest … but there are two conditions.’
Valla cocked an eyebrow, as though amused at my effrontery in daring to haggle with her.
‘First … you must teach me your method of using the bow … ’
‘If you are capable of learning it in the time we take to reach the edge of the forest,’ she said.
‘And second … you must come with us, all the way to Lundene.’
Once again her eyes flashed with anger, but I raised my hand to forestall another outburst.
‘You are an expert archer,’ I explained. ‘I desire your … protection.’
I suspected that such a statement would appeal to her pride. As for the forest, which had been in my family since time immemorial, it occurred to me that, in all likelihood, my own claim would never be made. I could therefore afford to offer her anything.
∞ ∞ ∞
‘Don’t aim at the target … just pull back the shaft, picture the arrow buried in the target, and release. It’s uncanny how well it seems to work.’
‘Like magic?’
‘If you like, but it is warriors’ magic … not the deep magic of the forest.’
We had walked for some hours, heading due north to skirt Stybbor and find the western road. We were moving slowly as Valla had insisted on bringing Malgard – who seemed to be healing well and was able to limp along by himself. He was also fascinated by every passing scent and had to be pulled away from every second tree. Progress was slow.
We had paused for a morsel in the mid afternoon, and then Valla had taken me hunting – to learn the bow and find some meat for the evening meal.
‘Shouldn’t I start by shooting at a tree?’ I asked.
‘A tree?’ she sneered. ‘Will rabbits, deer or soldiers stand like a tree and wait for you to shoot?’
I nodded, as her words made sense, and wondered about the countless hours I had spent in my childhood, shooting at butts.
‘The way I was taught,’ she said, ‘if you can’t practice with a moving target, you have to move yourself.’
With that she started walking