A Slave's Tale

27

27 SWIFTER THAN ANYOFus had ever ridden before did our horses carry us back from Hugues' feast. We did not stop before the forest fell away, and we saw the Church of Saint Meen, the fields, and our camp. Then, as if we had made a spoken agreement, we all reined back our horses. They were wet with sweat and foaming at the mouth. The landscape was completely still. The winds were asleep, as if time had deserted the earth, and the sun, which was low in the west, would not set but remain hanging there forever. Slowly we rode our horses across the fields. We did not dare to look at each other for fear our courage would leave us. We tied our horses by the shed, then walked around counting the dead. When Nils Haroldson came to his brother Eigil's body, he sat down on the ground and cried in the hopeless manner of a little child. I was looking for Magnus the Fair. At first I could not find him; and hope sang within me, until I came to the north wall of the shed. He was not alone. Death had been kinder to Rigmor Ragnvaldsdaughter than life had been. She was sitting down, leaning against the wall, a 203 gaping wound in her shoulder. Magnus lay in her lap, two arrows sticking from his body. I leaned over Rigmor and touched her face, for I thought for a moment that she was still alive. "No one shall come between you and your love ever again," I whispered. "They are all here, and none can answer to his name," I heard Hakon say. I ran to my horse and buried my head against its warm, living skin, for I could bear no longer looking at death's face. "Helga!" Hakon's face was white and little beads of sweat covered his forehead. I looked at him but said nothing, and he only repeated my name. Then I started to cry, and Hakon embraced me and held me. I cried not only for the dead, but for the meaninglessness of what had happened. Although I was crying, I could hear the clatter of a horse galloping from afar; and so strong is the instinct of life that I could not help looking up. It was the Norse priest, Michel. He had been riding as hard as he could whip his horse forward. When he finally managed to bring his poor shaking horse to a halt, the priest was so out of breath that he could hardly speakto us. "They are coming," he stammered. With horror he looked down at the dead man, who was lying near his horse's feet. It was Orm the Storyteller. "Have you fresh horses at the Abbey?" Hakon asked, and pushed me in the direction of my horse. The priest nodded and Hakon called loudly the names of Erp and Nils, while he mounted hisown horse. 204 I untied my horse. The poor beast looked at me asif it were trying to say, "I cannot carry you any farther." I jumped on its back, leaned over and stroked its neck, then trotted after Michel and Hakon towards the church. Nils Haroldson would not leave the body of his brother. Erp had to force him back on hishorse. The young priest made certain that we were given the best horses that were left in the stables. While the servants changed our saddles, he told us what had happened at the hall after Hakon had thrown the knife at Hugues. The knife had entered Hugues' shoulder, but it had not killed him, and he had ordered his men to pursue us. Father Christopher had stopped the men and argued with Hugues, saying that he must keep his promise to let us go in peace. The young Norse priest had not waited for the argument's outcome; fearing that Hugues ' will would eventually be obeyed by his men, Father Michel had at once come to warn us. So hasty had been his departure that he had not even bothered to saddle his horse. Hakon thanked the young priest; yet I could see by his expression that he did not believe that the other priests were innocent of the plot which had destroyed us. When the horses were ready and we were mounted, Father Michel came to me and said, "Your chief does not...