A Slave's Tale

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1 4 THE SUNLIGHT almost blinded us when we came outside ; and we stood still for a long moment, while our eyes became accustomed to it. From one of the huts, close to the main hall, a slave was staring at us with the eyes of a dog who fears strangers. "Sven!" We all became like stone when we heard that name; and it was a while before any of us turned to see who the caller had been. In the door of the hall stood Gudrun, Hjalte's grandmother . She looked past us, as if we did not exist. The slave came slowly towards her: was it age or fear that made him walk so haltingly? The old woman turned and walked inside again. The slave she had called Sven followed her without looking back. "Not everything can be bought with gold," said Eigil, the oldest son of Harold the Bowbender. "Were you not frightened?" Hakon asked me. I glanced over my shoulder at the hall. Now it looked like any other hall, and held no more terror for me. "Yes, I was. Do you think it was true that he buried Magnus' gold, and that his grandmother killed the slave?" 102 Hakon shrugged his shoulders. "The lust for gold makes men mad. Many a man has done worse deeds for a treasure smaller than the one they say Magnus Thorsen owned." I thought about Hakon's explanation, but it did not satisfy me: had Hjalte's grandmother called the slave Sven so that we would think her grandson a liar, or just to confuse us? Or was his name merely by chance the same as the slave's whom Hjalte had said his grandmother had killed? "What does itbring him . . . thegold, I mean?" Rark, who was walking on one side of me, answered, "What does the silver brooch Gretha loaned you give you?" Rark's argument annoyed me. "The two things have nothing to do with each other," I said hastily. "The gold is his arms and legs; if I were as weak as he, I would hold on to it, too." It was Magnus the Fair. He was walking behind us and had overheard our conversation . "You showed him no kindness when we were at the hall." I could hear in Hakon's tone that he was still angry at Magnus. "Many men are easier to pity when you are not in their company." When Magnus finished speaking, I realized that I, too — now, when I could no longer see Hjalte or hear his whining voice, except in my memory — felt pity for him. We had walked past Earl Hakon's hall and were 103 nearing the beach, not far from which our ship was anchored , when we heard someone running behind us. We all stopped and turned. Hjalte Gudbrandson's slave, the one his grandmother had called Sven, was coming towards us. When he saw us turn, he stopped running. He was out of breath and his forehead was wet with sweat. The slave bowed several times to Hakon and smiled; then taking from his belt a little leather bag, he held it out to Hakon. Hakon opened the bag, looked into it, and passed it on to Rark and Erp the Traveler, who stood near him. "Why are you giving me this money?" The slave did not answer Hakon, but pointed in the direction of Hjalte's hall. "Is your name Sven?" The slave nodded his head and smiled, but did not speak. "Why don't you answer?" The slave stopped smiling. By pointing to his mouth and shaking his head, he made us understand that he was mute. None of us was surprised, for wr e had grown used to a strange world since the sun had risen that morning. "Shall I keep it?" Hakon looked at the others. Rark looked away. Erp the Traveler said, "Hjalte or his grandmother, Gudrun, must be afraid, since they are willing to pay blood money that no one has asked for." Hakon, still looking doubtfully at the bag that Erp had passed back into his hands, said, "What evil story 104 could these coins not tell?" Rark made Hakon's decision for him. "1 shall return to Hjalte's hall," he said, "and tell him that we wished no blood money for the slaying of Olaf Sigurdson. But we shall accept the money as a...