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deeply, swallowing repeatedly, his eyes never leaving the faces of the men he
would kill. He took a roast bird and stuffed it into his mouth, chewing some
pieces and swallowing some of it whole. Even the bones he ground between his
teeth. There were no sounds but those of breathing and his eating. Color
was beginning to return to his face, strength flowing fresh to withered
limbs. His mouth still hungered, but his shrunken stomach could hold no more.
He wiped his fingers on the sleeve of the red-bearded man he had killed, to
rid them of grease. He would need dry palms for this night s work.
Glam stood behind him, axe swinging slowly to and fro, waiting. He too had
waited long for this night;
a few minutes more or less made no difference.
Ragnar s men waited also until Casca had finished his meal. It seemed to take
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much longer than it actually did, but they were in no rush; eternity they knew
was not far away.
Casca raised himself from the table, his eyes never leaving the
waiting warriors. He spoke with renewed strength.  Well, gentlemen, shall
we get on with it?
One by one, the warriors rose and moved around to the front of the table.
There had been eleven guests. Now eight stood in a rank waiting. They had
drawn their weapons and stood ready.
One elder warrior, with more gray in his beard than the others, looked closely
at the face of the man behind the table, and said,  Aye, it is you, though we
were sure you died long ago. A smile played at his mouth.  Indeed, you look
more like a corpse than old Ragnar does. He, no doubt, did you and the lady a
great wrong, and we did nothing to stop him. He was our sworn liege, no matter
what he did, and ours was a blood oath. Now, it is up to you. I know that
there is something within you that we cannot win against, some force that
sustains you when others would die. It has been said the gods have touched
you.
Perhaps that is so. At any rate, I know that what happens now is in your
hands. Whether we live or die is your decision. I know we may not be leaving
this room alive, but you will know that you have had a fight against men.
The old warrior raised his sword in salute and threw his cloak back out of the
way of his sword arm.
Then he bowed and stepped forward.  Let me be the first. As the eldest here, I
claim that right    "
Casca moved around the table, Glam close to his side.  Old man, you have
proclaimed your guilt through your own lips.
Blood oath.
The words dripped with contempt from the Roman s mouth.
 There is no oath so binding that it justifies pain only for another s
pleasure. It was your support that permitted the beast to live. You could have
stopped him, but it was easier to go along with him, to do nothing, in the
name of an oath. Well, hear mine.
 I swear, before all the gods and demons of the world, that not one of you
will leave this room alive.
That here and now, you will pay your bill. This night, you have been judged,
and the sentence is death.
Outside the Hall door, guards had gathered, ready to attack. They had heard
from the women of
Ragnar s death at the hand of the Roman. They made no attempt to enter. With
Ragnar s death, they owed him nothing. His daughter was now mistress of this
house and, on her command, they stood silent, with the others, waiting.
Then came the sounds of battle, swords against axes, cries to the gods and
Wotan to give them strength, and, inevitably, the sound of men dying. At
first, there were the sounds of single combat only.
Then came the cries of multiple voices joined in battle. Then silence,
terrible silence that meant it was all over. Still, they waited until the door
was opened by Glam, who was torn and cut in a dozen places, his arms and chest
covered not only with his own blood, but with that of the men lying in broken
profusion inside the Hall. His dripping axe left a trail of thick red spots
behind him.
Casca was sitting at the head of the table, one of the dead men s cloaks about
him, head between his hands, weary. It was over. The old warrior had been
right about one thing. The corpses on the floor were men. At least, they had
been. It was done with.
Glam spoke to Lida.  It is over. Go to your rooms. Now is not the time to talk
to him, when he still has the smell of death on him. He would not wish it so.
Go, and on the morrow all will be made right.
He swelled himself to his full height and spoke to all gathered.
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 Casca, the Walker, is now lord of
Helsfjord and master of all that was Ragnar s. He claims this by right of the
sword. If any would dispute his claim, let him come forth with sword in hand [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]