The Kurii, of course, with which the men of Torvaldsland might have had dealings, might have been removed by as much as generations from the Kurii of the ships. It was regarded as one of the great dangers of the war, however, that the Kurii of the ships might make contact with, and utilize, the Kurii of Gor in their schemes.
Men and the Kurii, where they met, which was usually only in the north, regarded one another as mortal enemies. The Kurii not unoften fed on men, and men, of course, in consequence, attempted to hunt and slay, when they could, the beasts. Usually, however, because of the power and ferocity of the beasts, men would hunt them only to the borders of their own districts, particularly if only the loss of a bosk or thrall was involved. It was usually regarded as quite sufficient, even by the men of Torvaldsland, to drive one of the beasts out of their own district. They were especially pleased when they had managed to harry one into the district of an enemy.
“How will you know the one of the Kurii whom you seek?” asked Ivar.
“I think,” I said, “he will know me.”
“You are a brave, or foolish, man,” said Ivar.
I drank more of the mead. I ate, too, of the roast tarsk.
“You are of the south,” said Ivar. “I have a proposition, a scheme.”
“What is that?” I asked.
The bond-maid, Olga, laughing and kicking, thrown helplessly over the shoulder of an oarsman, was carried past.
I saw several of the bond-maids in the arms of Ivar’s men. Among them, too, some trying to resist, were the new girls. One, who had irritated an oarsman, her hands held, was beaten, crying out, with his belt. Released, she began to kiss him, weeping, trying to please him. Men laughed. Another of the new girls was thrown over one of the benches; she lay on her back; her head was down, her dark hair, lon wild, was in the dirt and reeds, strewn on the floor of the hall; her head twisted from side to side; her eyes were close her lips were parted; I saw her teeth.
“Do not stop, ~ Jarl,” she begged. “Your bond-maid begs you not to stop!
“I am an outlaw,” said Ivar. ‘In a duel I killed Fin BroadbeIt.”
“It was in a duel,” I said.
“Finn Broadbelt was the cousin of Jarl Svein Blue Tooth.
“Ah,” I said. Svein Blue Tooth was the high jarl of Torvaldsland, in the sense that he was generally regarded as th e most powerful. In his hall, it was said he fed a thousand men. Beyond this his heralds could carry the war arrow, it was said, to ten thousand farms. Ten ships he had at his own wharves, and, it was said, he could sumrnon a hundred more “He is your Jarl?” I asked.
“He was my Jarl,” said Ivar Forkbeard.
“The wergild must be high,” I speculated.
The Forkbeard looked at me, and grinned. “It was set so high,” said he, “out of the reach of custom and law, against the protests of the rune-priests and his own men, that none, in his belief, could pay it.”
“And thus,” said I, “that your outlawry would remain in effect until you were apprehended or slain?”
“He hoped to drive me from Torvaldsland,” said Ivar.
“He has not succeeded in doing so,” I said.
Ivar grinned. “He does not know where I am,” said he. “If he did, a hundred ships might enter the inlet.”
“How much,” asked I, “is the wergild?”
“A hundred stone of gold,” said Ivar.
“You have taken that much, or more,” said I, “in the sack of Kassau’s temple.”
“And the weight of a full-grown man in the sapphires of Schendi,” said the Forkbeard.
I said nothing.
“Are you not surprised?” asked Ivar.
“It seems a preposterous demand,” I admitted, smiling.
“You know, however, what I did in the south?” asked Ivar.
“It is well known,” I said, “that you freed Chenbar, the Sea Sleen, Ubar of Tyros, from the chains of a dungeon of Port Kar, your fee being his weight in the sapphires of Schendi.”
I did not mention to the Forkbeard that it had been I, as Bosk of Port Kar, admiral of the city, who had been responsible for the incarceration of Chenbar.
Yet I admired the audacity of the man of Torvaldsland, though his act, in freeing Chenbar to act against me, had almost cost me my life last year in the northern forests. Sarus of Tyros, acting under his orders, had struck to capture both Marlenus of Ar and myself. He had failed to capture me, and I had, eventually, managed to free Marlenus, his men and mine, and defeat Sarus.
“Now,” laughed Ivar Forkbeard, “I expect that these nights Svein Blue Tooth rests less well in his furs.”
“You have already,” I said, “accumulated one hundred stone of gold and the weight of Chenbar of Tyros, the Sea Sleen, in the sapphires of Schendi.”
“But there is one thing more which the Blue Tooth demanded of me,” said Ivar.
“The moons of Gor?” I asked.
“No,” said he, “the moon of Scagnar.”
“I do not understand,” I said.
“The daughter,” said he, “of Thorgard of Scagnar, Hilda the Haughty.”
I laughed. “Thorgard of Scagnar,” I said, “has power comparable to that of the Blue Tooth himself.”
“You are of Port Kar,” said Ivar.
“My house is in that city,” said I.
“Is Thorgard of Scagnar not an enemy of those of Port Kar?” he asked.
“We of Port Kar,” I said, “have little quarrel generally with those oi Scagnar, but it is true that the ships of this Thorgard have preyed with devastation upon our shipping. Many men of Port Kar has he given to the bosom of Thassa.”
“Wou!d you say,” asked Ivar, “that he is your enemy?”
Yes, I said, “I would say that he is my enemy.”
‘You hunt one of the Kurii,” said Ivar.
“Yes,” I said.
“It may be dangerous and difflcult,” he said.
“It is quite possible,” I admitted.
“It might be good sport,” said he, “to engage in such a hunt.’
“You are welcome to accompany me,” I said.
Is it of concern to you whether or not the daughter oi Thorgard of Scagnar wears a collar?”
“It does not matter to me,” said I, “whether she wears a collar or not.”
“I think, soon,” said he, “his daughter might be fetched to the hal1 of Ivar Forkbeard.”
“It will be difficult and dangerous,” I said.
“It is quite possible,” said he.
“Am I welcome to accompany you?” I asked.
He grinned. “Gunnhild,” said he, “run for a horn of mead.
“Yes, my Jarl,” said she, and sped from his side.
In a moment, through the dark, smoky hall, returned Gurmhild, bearing a great horn of mead.
“My Jarls,” said she.
The Forkbeard took from her the horn of mead and, together, we drained it.
We then clasped hands.
“You are welcome to accompany me,” said he. Then he rose to his feet behind the table. “Drink!” called he to his men. ‘Drink mead to Hilda the Haughty, daughter of Thorgard of Scagnar!”
His men roared with laughter. Bond-maids, collared and naked, fled about, filling horns with mead.
“Feast!” called Ivar Forkbeard. “Feast!”