“This was no revel,” said the Bard. “They were drinking to hide fear.”
Big Half and Little Half appeared, with the young skald fluttering behind them. “You should eat,” Little Half said. “I have cheese and bread in the pantry that hasn’t been mauled.”
“Is this how these men spend every night?” said the Bard, disgusted.
“I’m afraid so.”
“I can’t tell you how honored I am to meet the great Dragon Tongue,” gushed the skald.
“So you should be,” the old man said absentmindedly. “Thank you for your offer, Little Half. We would welcome food that hasn’t been slobbered on.” Soon everyone was enjoying a peaceful meal. If it hadn’t been for the drunken snores and the guards lurking by the gate, it would have been almost cheerful. The terrible cries in the wind had vanished.
“Much as I hate to bring up an unpleasant subject, I need to know what happened with that hogboon,” said the Bard when they had finished.
“What’s a hogboon, sir?” Jack asked.
“Do you remember my telling you about Jenny Greenteeth?”
“The ghost who haunts the Hall of Wraiths?”
“Yes. She’s a perfect example of what happens when you don’t fix wrongs,” said the Bard. “Long ago something terrible happened to Jenny and her spirit was unable to rest. The problem is, she can’t remember what it was. She comes after anyone who strays into her territory, moaning whooo… whooo… whooo like a demented owl. My guess is that she’s asking ‘Who killed me?’ Now, of course, no one can tell her. Jenny’s fairly harmless, apart from causing the odd heart attack. A hogboon is far worse.”
“This one came from an ancient barrow,” said Big Half.
“I saw it when it came for Bjorn.” Little Half shivered. “It was a tall presence wreathed in cobwebs. Its body was like the mold you find on bread. Soft-looking. It left gray footprints.”
“Let’s start at the beginning,” the Bard said. “Adder-Tooth forced the wise woman to go into a vision trance. Unfortunately, she chose a barrow containing a hogboon, and it awakened. It saw an opportunity to take over a living body, except that hogboons are not alive. The best they can manage is to use up the life force within a host, and when that was gone, the woman dissolved into dust. Am I correct?”
“Yes, sir,” said Little Half. “That’s what Adder-Tooth told me. He himself didn’t realize what had happened until the creature spoke. ‘That was a dainty meal you prepared for me,’ it said. ‘Ask of me any boon and it shall be granted.’ Well, of course Adder-Tooth only wanted one thing: the destruction of Bjorn. He immediately demanded that without asking whether payment would be involved.”
“There’s always a price for such favors,” said the Bard.
“When Bjorn was alive…” The dwarf swallowed and wiped his eyes. “When Bjorn was alive, this hall rang with laughter. Women and children still lived here, and on that night we were posing riddles.”
“I remember,” said Big Half.
“Bjorn had given us this puzzle,” said Little Half.
Its shaping power passes knowing.
It seeks the living one by one.
Eternal, yet without life, it moves
Everywhere in the wide world.
“The answer, of course, was Death. The riddle had no sooner been set when a gray presence drifted through the wall. The lamps grew dim and the smaller children began to cry.
“‘I seek Bjorn Skull-Splitter,’ it said in a ghastly voice. We were all terrified, but Bjorn bravely drew his sword. ‘I am the one you seek. Why are you here?’
“‘I am the answer to your riddle,’ replied the hogboon.
“Our leader grew pale. ‘Take the women and children from the hall,’ he ordered. ‘Now begone, foul creature, or I will be forced to kill you.’
“‘None may slay me,’ the hogboon whispered, and leaped at him. Bjorn sliced it in two with his sword, but the parts came together like smoke, and it laid its hand on Bjorn’s chest. Our poor leader groaned and dropped his weapon. In an instant his face had aged ten years.
“‘Take up your sword, Bjorn Skull-Splitter. This battle is not over,’ said the hogboon. Bjorn, may Odin remember him, fought on. Each time the hogboon touched him, he aged. It was like watching a cat play with a mouse. At the last Bjorn could only lie helplessly on the floor. He tried to lift his weapon, but by then his hand was so gnarled, he couldn’t open his fingers. He crumbled away into dust before our eyes. The next day Einar Adder-Tooth’s army invaded.”
“By all the gods of Asgard,” swore Thorgil, “this crime cries out for vengeance.”
“So it does, princess,” said the dwarf, “but much happens for which there is no remedy. The living must go on.” Jack had a moment of satisfaction when Thorgil looked startled. She had completely forgotten she was supposed to be a princess.
By now exhaustion was falling over all of them, particularly the Bard. They had walked a long way and the night’s revels had been wearing. “We can continue this conversation in the morning,” said Little Half, noting the old man’s tiredness. “I’ll bring fresh straw and you can sleep out here. I don’t recommend the sleeping cupboards. They’ve been thrown up in too often.”
“I could sing for you, to help you sleep,” offered the skald.
“I’d rather listen to Pictish beasts howling at the moon,” said the Bard. “There’s one more question, Little Half. Why does Adder-Tooth want a princess?”
“Ah!” The dwarf looked embarrassed. It was he, after all, who had carried that information to the king. “Why does any ruler want a princess? He needs a wife.”
Chapter Twenty-seven
ESCAPE PLANS
Jack thought Thorgil would never calm down. She stormed about, kicking straw and swearing bloodthirsty oaths until the drunken warriors began to stir. Skakki kept telling her, “I won’t allow it, little sister. You have my word.”
“You have my word too,” said the Bard. She screamed at both of them.
“How can she be forced into marriage?” said Jack. “I thought Northmen brides had to consent.”
“That’s the ideal situation,” the old man said. “But Adder-Tooth needs a princess to insure his kingship. He has no right to the title.”
“I’ll kill myself before I let that slime bucket near me!”
Thorgil snatched up a knife someone had left on a table, but it slid from her hand. She bent to retrieve it and her knees buckled. She collapsed on the floor. “Curse that rune of protection! Curse it! It won’t let me die!” She thrashed about in the straw.
“Perhaps I could bring her a calming drink,” said Little Half, who had dodged her fists several times.
“Something hot. No wine or mead,” said the Bard. He laid his hand on her forehead and murmured words in the Blessed Speech. She shuddered and lay still.
“We should leave now,” Skakki said in a low voice. He nodded at the iron door, where a few bleary-eyed guards squatted.
“I don’t relish a long, dark walk to the village with a hogboon wandering about,” said the Bard. “It may prefer to feed on full-moon nights, but it’s clearly restless. Only the spirits in the wall are keeping it out. I wouldn’t like to encounter them, either.”
“Would they attack us?” Jack thought about the hogboon slowly devouring the life of the wise woman and Bjorn Skull-Splitter.
“Probably not,” the old man said. “The spirits in the wall are innocent sacrificial victims. They strive to defeat the one who slew them, but if aroused, they might lash out at anyone who came near.”