The Fighting Man. Adrian Deans
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quiet!’
The light, such as it was, was going and I started to feel cold. My legs were cramping from staying in the same position so long but the slightest movement caused the sucking mud to gurgle and squelch – and at that moment, we heard the sound we’d feared. A squelch. Just the one, which indicated stealth and I felt Valla’s body go rigid.
If God was privy to my thoughts and desires, then He must have known, even before I did, that I was fascinated by Valla and wanted to be worthy of her approval, yet everything I did or said seemed to inspire her scorn. Despite the cold and discomfort – despite even the terror of pursuit – I was almost painfully conscious of her body against mine and remembered with a weird pleasure the feeling of her fierce hold on my manhood as she’d held the knife at my throat.
As impossible as it seems, I realised to my dismay that I had become aroused again, and the urge to make some noble gesture became overpowering. They obviously knew we were close – if I could lead them away from the reeds then Valla might escape and think better of me.
I knew such a thought was a suicidal impulse but, possibly due to the desperate need to stretch my legs, I made my decision. I pulled the ring of office from my finger and placed it in Valla’s hand.
‘Keep this for me,’ I whispered then, before she could object, I stood and bolted.
I crashed out of the reeds and was immediately aware of a figure right in front of me. Without thinking, I struck with my wooden club and felt a satisfying crack, but my victim screamed and I heard the hue and cry begin.
Somehow I knew the ground would be firmer at the base of the reeds and ran swiftly down the right of the lane.
A hoarse shout in a tongue I didn’t know sounded from behind, and in that moment I saw two more emerge from the reeds to my left – both Danes by the look of their long hair and beards – young and fit and much stronger looking than I.
But not as quick to realise that the mud was thickest and deepest away from the roots of the reeds and I slipped their grasps, even as both clutched at me from the middle of the reed lane and fell over each other into the mud.
I reached the firmer ground and saw three men, two of whom immediately pursued me, while the third – Malgard’s man Angdred – pointed and shouted.
Then I knew terror. If Malgard had sent men to hunt me then he knew I had escaped the butchery of my brother’s wedding and was going to extreme lengths to ensure my father’s line was completely destroyed. Fear gave me wings and I all but flew along the edge of the mire, heading for the woods on the northern side of the hill. I had about twenty yards on my pursuers, but knew I could not outlast them. I had to find a place to hide.
My brother’s wedding cloak, with the beautiful green web and embossed with our family badge in white and gold, was sodden with mud and I gathered it into a ball as I ran, to prevent it from slowing my escape. Then, as I crashed into the trees, I tore the cloak from around my neck and flung it to my right, even as I swerved left and bounded over a giant log, simultaneously flinging my stick weapon high into the trees back in the direction of the cloak.
I hit the ground and watched under the log as two men ran into the darkening forest, just ten yards away, then my stick crashed to the ground off to the right, and they immediately took off in that direction. Losing no time, and wearing only my muddy shoes and a rag about my groin, I scuttled in the opposite direction until I could no longer see the men, then I leapt to my feet and ran like the wind for about ten paces, when a huge man stepped from behind a tree and swung a fist that knocked me off my feet and caused an explosion of lights and stars in my head.
∞ ∞ ∞
When I awoke, I found myself stretched face down over the giant log – hands tied together, feet splayed uncomfortably apart – and my head feeling like it had been used as an anvil. One eye was swollen and closed, and my cheek rasped against the rough bark of the long dead log. I could taste blood and felt weak with sickness and fear.
‘Throwing a stave one way and running another,’ said a voice behind me – a sneering voice I’d mainly ignored in the past, as he had no place in my father’s household.
‘The oldest of fox tricks,’ laughed Angdred. ‘But a man will always outwit a fox … or a vixen … once he knows it’s foxes he’s dealing with.’
We were in a small clearing and it was now quite dark. Torches of rag and pitch were held aloft by two of the younger Danes and a fire crackled behind me – throwing strange shadows against the wall of trees in front and warming my arse.
It was then that I realised I was naked – my loin cloth stripped away and my splayed feet tied to pegs – and horror crept over me as I realised what they intended.
‘If we’d caught your friend we might have had some fun with her,’ said Angdred, as though reading my mind. ‘You’ll have to take her place young Brand.’
‘I am the king’s representative,’ I slurred through parched and swollen lips. ‘Release me at once or know his vengeance.’
Angdred roared with laughter.
‘King’s representative? Are you saying that Olaf Pighammer is about to fuck the king? That’s treason boy!’
‘What? What are you—’
I could not bring myself to mention, or even put into coherent thought, the thing that I feared most in the world – more even than death – had resisted the monastery to avoid. But in case there was any doubt, Angdred put me out of my misery.
‘Normally I would not approve of sodomites and their filthy practices,’ he said, coming closer, ‘but in this case I will make an exception so you learn the full extent of your fall, my lord. Your husband to be is called Olaf the Pighammer, but he is a mere instrument. As he tears your ring apart with his mighty hammer, know that in truth it is Lord Malgard that mounts you and takes your place as head of the family.’
As he spoke, his face came even closer until he was all but whispering in my ear like a lover, and without thinking I snapped my head back and felt it connect hard with something.
Angdred cursed, and then I shrieked with pain as he kicked me between the legs, where my unprotected nuts hung.
The two young Danes in front of me laughed so hard they all but dropped their torches and then Angdred kicked me again.
There was no way I could protect myself and tears of pain blurred my vision – distracting me from Angdred’s vengeance.
‘Thank you Brand,’ he said at last, still behind me. ‘Thank you for giving me a reason to hate you. Before, I admit, I felt some sympathy for your position … you did not ask to be born between Malgard and the thegn’s seat, and so it was to be a clean death for you unless Olaf wanted you for his concubine. But now we shall take our time … flaying your skin inch by inch and finishing with the blood eagle. You know of the blood eagle don’t you?’
I didn’t respond – just struggled vainly against the ropes that tore into my flesh – causing the torch-Danes to laugh even harder.
‘The blood eagle,’ explained Angdred, ‘is the pinnacle of Danish cruelty. First we shall smash your ribs with hammers. Then, we will carve you open and pull your broken ribs apart … and you will still be alive Brand, I promise.’
There was a hoarse muttering from behind me, and Angdred laughed.
‘Olaf is impatient for his bride, I deem … not long now Olaf.’
Once again, Angdred’s sneering voice was close behind me (although not quite as close as before).
‘Finally, your lungs will be pulled out and arranged over your shoulders like an eagle’s wings. Although you won’t have long to enjoy them … by that point, death will be close … close enough perhaps for you to see your father and brother watching your rape and murder from limbo.’
‘Help!’ I screamed, on the brink of madness. ‘Help!’