"Is this so?" demanded Ragnar, frowning with concern. "He let the Romans kill him? How could this happen?"
"The Roman warriors chained him and took him out; they stripped him, tied him to a post, and beat him with the iron-tipped lash," I said. "They beat him so hard the flesh came off his bones and his blood covered the ground. Even so, he did not cry out."
"That is manful, at least," put in Gunnar, much impressed. "I am certain Leif's hound could not do that."
"Then, when he was already half dead, they laid a timber door post on his shoulders and made him carry it naked through the city, all the way to Skull Hill."
"The Romans are cowardly dogs," spat Ragnar. "Everyone knows this."
"The Romans took him and laid him on the ground…" Putting aside my cup, I lay down and stretched myself in the cross position. "While a warrior knelt on his arms and legs, another took up a hammer and spike, and nailed each arm and leg to the timber beam. Then they hoisted him up and stuck the beam in the ground, leaving him to hang there until he died."
My listeners gaped.
"While he hung high above the ground, the sky grew dark. The wind blew fierce. The thunder roared through the sky-vault."
"Did he turn into a storm and strike them all dead with thunderbolts?" wondered Gunnar wistfully.
"Nay," I said.
"What did he do?" asked Jarn suspiciously.
"He died." I closed my eyes and let my limbs go limp.
"It is just as well," sniffed Jarn. "If your god is so weak and useless as that."
"Odin once sacrificed himself in such a way," Ragnar pointed out. "He hung on the World Tree for nine days and nights, allowing his flesh to be consumed by ravens and owls."
"What good is a dead god?" asked Leif. "I have never understood that."
"Ah, now you have hit upon the most important point," I told them. "For after he was well and truly dead, the skalds caused him to be taken down; they put him in a cave and sealed the entrance of the cave with a huge stone-a stone so big not even ten strong men could shift it. This they did because they feared him even in death. And they made the Roman warriors to stand guard over the tomb lest anything should happen."
"Did anything happen?" Ragnar asked doubtfully.
"He came back to life." I leaped up from the ground, much to the astonishment of my listeners. "Three days after he died, he rose again, and broke out of the cave-but not before he had descended into the underworld and freed all the slaves of Hel." I used their word, for it very nearly signified the same thing: a place of tortured souls.
This impressed them greatly. "Heya," nodded Ragnar in approval. "And did he wreak vengeance on the skalds and Romans who killed him?"
"Not even then did he demand the blood price. In this he showed his true lordship: for he is a god of righteousness, not revenge-life and not death. And from before the ages of the world he had established loving kindness as the rooftree of his hall. He is alive now, and for ever more. So whoever calls upon his name will be saved out of death and the torment of Hel."
"If he is alive," demanded Jarn scornfully, "where is he now? Have you seen him?"
"Many have seen him," I replied, "for he does often reveal himself to those who diligently seek him. But his kingdom is in heaven where he is building a great hall wherein all his people can gather for the marriage feast when he returns to earth to take his bride."
"When is he returning?" asked Ragnar.
"Soon," I said. "And when he returns the dead will come back to life and he will judge everyone. Those who have practised wickedness and treachery against him, he will exile to Hel where they will mourn for ever that they did not heed him well when they had the chance."
"What of those who held to him?" asked Leif.
"To those who have shown him fealty," I explained, "he will grant everlasting life. And they will join him in the heavenly hall where there will be feasting and celebrating for ever."
My listeners liked this idea. "This hall must be very big to hold so many people," observed Gunnar.
"Valhalla is large," offered Ragnar helpfully.
"It is bigger than Valhalla," I said confidently.
"If it is so big, how can he build it by himself?" wondered Leif.
"He is a god, Leif," answered Gunnar. "Gods, as we know, can do these things."
"Also," I added, "he has seven times seven hosts of angels to help him."
"Who are these angels?" asked Ragnar.
"They are the champions of heaven," I told him. "And they are led by a chieftain called Michael who carries a sword of fire."
"I have heard of this one," put in Gunnar. "My swineherd Helmuth speaks of him often."
"He cannot be much of a god if fisherfolk and swine-herds can call upon him," scoffed Jarn.
"Anyone may call upon him," I said. "Kings and jarls, free men and women, children and slaves."
"I would not hold to any god my slave worshipped," Jarn insisted.
"Has this god a name?" asked Leif.
"His name is Jesu," I said. "Also called the Christ, a word which means jarl in the tongue of the Greekmen."
"You speak well for this god of yours," Ragnar said; Gunnar and Tolar nodded. "I am persuaded that this is a matter worthy of further consideration."
They all agreed that it was just that: a matter worthy of further consideration. And such deep cogitation required the aid of ol, to which they applied themselves forthwith. Such strenuous thought, it was then suggested, should not be undertaken without the strength provided by a full stomach; it would be folly to even contemplate such a task without proper sustenance. Thus, the talk quickly turned to who should go and fetch the meat which was soon to be coming off the spits.
In the end, Gunnar, Leif and I went to claim our portion of the meat. We ate and drank amiably, and I fell asleep thinking that, whatever else happened to me in the days to come, my time among the barbarians had not been entirely wasted.
22
The next morning, King Harald held court in the ring of stones. Anyone with a grievance, or anyone seeking redress, could come before him for a judgement. This custom is roughly similar to the way it is done with the Irish kings and their people. Perhaps it is the same everywhere; I cannot say. But I understood the process well enough just by watching how the people behaved: they came before the king, sometimes singly, sometimes in pairs, with their supporters behind them for encouragement. They then declared the nature of their grievance and beseeched the king, who sat upon a wooden plank resting on two stones, for his decision.
King Harald seemed to enjoy the proceedings, leaning forward eagerly, hands on knees, listening to the complaints, and making up his mind, often very quickly after only a few questions. I watched the faces of those who went before him, and most often the people appeared to come away satisfied with the justice they had received.
Several times, however, there were scowls and dark mutterings as the aggrieved stumped off to lick their wounds. That is also the way of it in Eire, for it is not possible, even in all fairness, to please everyone, and there is no pleasing some people ever.
As we stood waiting for our turn, I wondered whether Gunnar would be pleased with his judgement, for it was the king himself he held to fault. What would Harald Bull-Roar do?
When called at last, Gunnar strode forth boldly, pulling me along and making me stand beside him. The king looked at me, and his glance put me in mind of our previous meeting; something of the same curious thoughtfulness appeared in his expression.