The day of the match dawned clear and frosty and all over the field people began to emerge from their shelters to fetch water and rebuild their cooking fires. Alf got up early and cooked everyone a large breakfast of sausages and scrambled eggs. They huddled around the fire in the chilly autumn air, glad of the warmth provided by the firmly stuffed padded jackets and layers of woollen clothing, which would serve as body armour in the game later that morning. Helgi watched the others tucking into the huge pile of food. His stomach was churning so badly with nerves that he could hardly bear to look at his plate. He felt impatient to get out there and fight, but terrified too that things would get ugly, that they might lose, that he, the least powerful player, might let the others down.
‘You should eat something to keep your strength up,’ said Jorund.
‘The lad’s bound to feel nervous before his first match,’ observed Kormak, sinking his teeth into a sausage.
‘Specially as it could be his last,’ grinned Sam.
‘I’ve faced worse than the Ericssons,’ Helgi said casually. He took a small sip of the beer he had been given and swallowed it with difficulty.
‘Has anyone seen Hedin since last night?’ Audun asked suddenly.
‘No. I fell asleep as soon as I hit the sack so I didn’t hear him come in. He wasn’t there this morning either,’ said Sam. ‘Come to think of it, his bed didn’t look as if it had been slept in at all.’
Audun jumped up, pulled the door flap of the shelter roughly aside, and ducked between the folds into the stuffy gloom. Hedin’s sleeping sack lay undisturbed, but his sword and rucksack were missing. He re-emerged, looking worried, and walked swiftly over to where the horses were tethered.
‘He’s taken his stuff! And his horse is missing.’
‘He must’ve gone home. Chickened out!’ muttered Jorund in disgust.
‘Gone home? Without telling us?’ Audun could hardly believe it.
‘I’m sure it’s got nothing to do with you knocking him down in front of a big crowd of people yesterday, Audun,’ said Sam drily.
Audun turned swiftly to Embla. ‘Did Solveig mention Hedin last night? Was he planning to go over there?’
‘No, not as far as I know. He wouldn’t have needed his horse if he had.’
‘Unless they went off somewhere together,’ put in Sam with a mischievous wink. ‘Perhaps she liked his poem after all.’
Audun glared at Sam and strode away. He scanned the full width of the field, hoping to spot Hedin strolling among the booths or sitting with one of the other groups. Then he swept restlessly back to the fire.
‘Where’s he got to? He can’t just go off—we’re the first on this morning! The two-faced, treacherous … I had a feeling something like this would happen. I knew he’d let us down, I knew his heart wasn’t in it! Well, he’d better get back before the match starts, or by Loki’s hairy backside, I’ll take his stick and I’ll ram it right up his—’
‘Hedin wouldn’t just bottle out,’ said Helgi hastily. ‘Something must have happened.’
‘But now we don’t have a substitute!’ cried Audun. ‘Karl dropped out when I told him Hedin was coming.’
‘Don’t worry, he’ll turn up,’ said Helgi. He was sure his cousin wouldn’t switch sides just to please Solveig. Hedin cared too much about his reputation to do anything as shameful as that.
Audun calmed down a little and said, ‘You’re right, we can’t afford to let this get to us. It’s probably just as well he’s gone. It wouldn’t do to have anyone faint-hearted on the team. Let’s head over to the lake. If he comes back, he’ll know where to find us.’
Helgi crawled inside Hedin’s shelter to look for the leather helmet he had been going to borrow from his cousin but Hedin appeared to have taken it with him. Feeling annoyed, he went to put on the rest of his equipment, which he had laid out on his bed. He bound the shin-guards made of bark to his legs with a long strip of cloth, then strapped on his elbow pads, yanked on his leather gloves, and checked the grip on the soles of his boots. Finally he took up his stick and went outside. He couldn’t help smiling at what he saw.
Alf the blacksmith was wearing a battered old helmet and a homemade breastplate, improvised from pieces of scrap metal with a buckled leather tab on each shoulder. Round his middle was a belt from which he had hung a large iron cup to protect his groin. Sam and Kormak were pointing at the cup and snorting with smutty laughter.
‘What? What’s so funny?’ Alf demanded crossly. ‘That’s proper armour, that is. I designed it myself. Look—it’s hinged, for comfort and convenience.’
That set them all off howling and slapping their knees, but Alf refused to see the joke. ‘They might catch on,’ he insisted. ‘I bet all the players will want one.’
‘Yeah, Alf! You could set up a little business,’ said Sam, once he had wiped the tears from his eyes and recovered enough to speak.
When everyone was ready, they trooped down to the lake. There were a lot of jokes and banter flying about, and nervous, excited laughter.
The ice shone brilliantly in the winter sunshine. People were already gathering for the first match of the day. The benches that had been laid out in rows on the banks were reserved for those who could afford to pay for seats; most people simply stood on the grass or brought their own rugs to sit on.
They took their places on one of two benches at the front which were obviously intended for the teams. Embla sat with them, her bulging medicine bag at her feet. A nervous-looking man with a weak chin, whom Helgi guessed must be the marshall because he wore a cow-horn bugle strung around his neck, came over to remonstrate with her at once.
‘You can’t sit there. Women aren’t allowed to play.’
‘I’m the Team Physician. I’ve got every right to sit here,’ Embla replied.
‘Most irregular,’ the marshall muttered with a frown. ‘What’s your team called?’
Audun turned to Helgi in dismay—they hadn’t thought of a name, but the marshall would want to announce them.
‘Er, the Outlaws?’ suggested Helgi.
‘The Outlaws,’ Audun confirmed.
‘The Arnarstapi Outlaws. That’s where our gang hides out, at Eagle Rock,’ Helgi told the marshall. ‘I’m a real outlaw, you know, and so’s my friend Jorund over there.’
‘I’m sure you are,’ replied the marshall, humouring him, and gave each of them a green armband.
Soon the lake was thronged with people: a colourful border of faces and hats and woolly cloaks stretched around the expanse of ice. The benches behind them gradually filled with men and women, young and old, excitedly chattering and rubbing their hands and stamping their feet to keep warm. Audun kept turning round in his seat, and Helgi knew, without having to look, whom he had spotted.
A smattering of applause broke out behind them, which prompted Helgi to turn round too. He saw that several spectators had risen from their seats, two of whom he recognized. Thorgrim’s father Eric stood in the place of honour, towering over the people around him. The whiteness of his bald head, which glistened in the pale sunlight, made an odd contrast with the long, dark, plaited beard on his chin. Beside him stood Solveig, finely dressed and conscious of being admired, the bright silver about her neck gleaming between the silver-white tresses of her hair. Then Helgi realized why they were clapping: Thorgrim was leading seven heavy-set men to the opposite bench. He craned his neck to see who they were. He recognized three of them as the men who had come on board the Swan, with Eric, to inspect Halfdan’s cargo. One was Slackjawed Erp, a tenant farmer of Eric’s, a burly, vacant-eyed fellow whose mouth hung open all the time. The other he knew was Mord the Enforcer, a brutal man with a thick neck and bushy black eyebrows that joined in the middle. He was employed by Eric as a bodyguard and specialized in enforcing unpopular decisions in the district, by threats or actual violence.
Audun nudged Helgi and indicated the larger of the two substitute players, who wore a patch over one eye.
‘That’s Bogi Squint-Eye. He’s wanted for several killings, but he’s never been prosecuted because Eric’s harbouring him. Eric treats him like a slave and gives him all the worst jobs to do because he knows Bogi needs his protection and can’t complain. No wonder Bogi has such a violent temper.’
‘I’ve met him before,’ said Helgi. ‘Who’s the man with the ginger plaits and the squashed-looking nose?’
‘Ogmund Whalebelly,’ Audun told him. ‘People say he killed a couple of men up north, in a quarrel over how to divide up a beached whale. So, what do you think of the opposition?’
Audun was looking at Helgi slyly to see what kind of impression his words had made.
‘Thorgrim’s team certainly wouldn’t win any prizes in a beauty contest,’ replied Helgi, forcing himself to joke.
Audun laughed and clapped him merrily on the back. Then leaning over to address the whole team who sat on the bench, he said, ‘Hey, listen up. Thorgrim’s picked some real bruisers this time, but we’ve got some heavyweights on our side, so there’s no excuse for fear. We’ve come here to take on the Ericssons and show them they can’t push us around. Helgi’s beaten them once already—single-handed. But they’re so dopey they’ve come back for more. So let’s go out there and give it to them!’
‘Hear, hear!’ cried Sam. ‘Let’s get ‘em!’ growled Alf, through gritted teeth. Everyone felt roused and impatient to get out on the ice.
The marshall handed out red armbands to Thorgrim’s team and quickly sorted the opponents according to height and weight. Audun and Thorgrim were paired in the centre, and Sam was matched against Thorbrand on the right-hand side, where Helgi and Thorstein would also be positioned. On the left, Kormak was to be Slackjawed Erp’s opponent and Jorund was to play against Mord the Enforcer. Alf and Ogmund were in goal.
The marshall blew his horn and an expectant hush fell over the crowd.
‘Welcome, everybody, to the first match of the day, the Arnarstapi Outlaws versus the Thorstead Thrashers. Our teams have come all the way from Stapi to compete here today, so let’s give them a warm welcome!’ Loud cheers rang out all around the lake as the teams stood up. Embla whispered ‘Good luck!’ in Helgi’s ear and he felt a pressure on his gloved hand. With a peculiar sense of unreality, he followed the other players out onto the ice.
Audun acknowledged the applause with a cheerful wave of his stick and scooted away across the ice for the warm-up. The wind created by his passage stung his cheeks and whipped through his tangled curls as he sped along. He made a whole circuit of the pitch and flashed Solveig a smile as he streaked past the bank where she stood.
Helgi drew comfort from Audun’s confident lead and struck out over the lake too, making a wide arc. He moved fast, weaving in and out of the other players, invigorated by the cold rush of air on his face and the warmth coursing through his veins. His nervousness quickly turned to excitement. Thorstein rushed past him, brandishing his stick like a weapon, and rapped him hard on the leg. The stick bounced harmlessly off the birchwood padding with a dull thud. ‘We’re gonna kill you, Easterner!’ he laughed as he sped away. ‘You’ll have to try harder than that!’ Helgi yelled back. He mentally dismissed his opponent by visualizing himself snatching the ball off Thorstein and hitting the perfect shot.
The marshall did not give them long to warm up before he came over, holding a leather ball, and waved them to the centre of the ice. Helgi glanced at his opponent Thorstein, who leered back at him and slowly drew one finger across his throat.
Audun offered to shake Thorgrim’s hand. Thorgrim’s face hardened and his cold, pale eyes narrowed into cruel slits. He stood as motionless as an ice sculpture and stared straight past Audun.
‘I hope you’re not about to tell me I’m skating on thin ice,’ said Audun, with a cheeky grin.
Thorgrim slowly turned his head to look at him. His ice-blue stare held coldly on Audun’s face and when he finally spoke, his heavy drawl suggested it was taking all his effort to control his anger.
‘I’m telling you to back off, you insolent peasant. Otherwise, I shall wipe that smile off your face by burying my stickball bat in your skull.’
‘If your aim with a bat is anything like your aim with an axe, I won’t be needing a helmet,’ replied Audun.
With a long shrill blast on his horn, the marshall lobbed the ball at the centre of the rink. Audun and Thorgrim dived for it, but Thorgrim got there first. He was immediately surrounded but flipped the ball high over everyone’s heads and Mord the Enforcer ran forward to collect it. Helgi marked Thorstein closely to prevent the ball coming to him, and found himself next to Alf shielding the goal, as the larger players moved towards their end, locked in a fierce struggle, the ball barely visible amid a tangled blur of legs, arms, and thrashing sticks. An obscure, uneasy murmuring arose from the people watching the game. Suddenly, the ball flew towards the goal; Helgi threw himself sideways to save it but it glanced off Alf’s helmet and flew straight towards Thorgrim, who slammed it into the net. The murmuring on the banks rose to a sudden shout and Thorgrim raised his fist in triumph as the whole crowd roared. His brothers slapped him on the back, and Mord the Enforcer and Slackjawed Erp thumped their sticks on the ice in savage delight.
The marshall called them to order and tossed the ball again. This time Audun swiped it and darted away, dodging the blow Thorgrim tried to land on him, and passing it to Sam with a deft flick of the wrist. Sam weaved down the ice, cradling the ball, only to find himself blocked by a wall of solid muscle, in the shape of Mord the Enforcer and Slackjawed Erp. Mord grinned malevolently, showing a gappy row of blackened teeth. Sam braked hard and sent a back-pass to Helgi. Helgi lifted the ball in a high shot but before he could see how far it went, Thorstein ploughed into him, sending him flying. In that second, suspended over the ice and waiting to crash down, he saw Audun skid to a halt in a spray of icy water, catch the ball in the crook of his blade and fire it straight between the goal posts, levelling the score.
Embla leapt to her feet and cheered with the rest of the crowd. Barely noticing the ache in his shoulder where he had hit the ice, Helgi scrambled up and danced about waving his stick. Sam and Kormak joined him and they all clashed sticks high in the air, while Alf and Jorund nearly bowled Audun over with a giant bear-hug.
Most of the spectators had risen to their feet. Their whole attention was fixed on the game. Embla had struck up a chant of ‘Outlaws, Outlaws!’ Solveig, perching on the edge of her seat, looked pale and anxious, and visibly flinched when Audun went for the ball and Thorgrim slashed him viciously across the chest with his stick. The marshall dived between them and blew a sharp note on his horn. He gestured angrily to Thorgrim to leave the ice, but then caught sight of Eric glowering at him in the crowd. The colour drained from the marshall’s face and he quickly backed away.
Play resumed, now fast and unsettled. Kormak’s shot at the net rebounded off the post. Sam streaked forward to receive the ball and moved in on Thorbrand who was helping Ogmund the Whaler defend the goal. He pulled a fake, bending his arm as if to shoot left, then shifting at once to his back hand, so the shot flew high to the right. Thorbrand knocked it clear just in time. Sam let out a loud grunt of frustration which was echoed by wails of disappointment from their supporters and roars of relief from those on the other side.
Helgi was suddenly aware of a commotion near the goal. A fight had broken out: Slackjawed Erp and Mord the Enforcer were pounding Kormak into the ice and spearing him with the butt end of their sticks, and Jorund was trying to wrestle Mord away. Sam stormed over at once to defend his brother. He shoved the Enforcer aside and smashed Slackjaw over the head, knocking him out. The marshall chose this moment to halt play with a loud hornblast. ‘Foul!’ he cried, and ordered Sam off the ice. Sam glared at him belligerently and refused to go. The crowd responded with a mixture of heartfelt applause and cries of disgust. Audun hurried over and began to explain passionately to the marshall that his decision was entirely bereft of justice, that Sam was only trying to restore order, and that any right-thinking person would have done the same.
‘How come Sam is sent off while Mord gets to stay on? Erp asked for it—look at the state of Kormak lying there!’ Audun protested, struggling to restrain Sam from attacking the marshall.
Kormak had been beaten almost unconscious and there was blood all over the ice. The marshall hesitated for an instant, but one glance at Eric’s ferocious face was enough, and he shook his finger at Audun.
‘How dare you challenge the marshall’s rulings! Show some respect or you’ll be benched for the rest of the game.’
Audun raised his arms in an incredulous appeal to the crowd, which drew a mixture of frenzied cheers, boos, and catcalls. He stormed over to Helgi, muttering a string of curses through gritted teeth.
‘Blast that spineless worm of a marshall! I wonder what Eric’s threatened to do to him if we win the match? Sam was an idiot to let them provoke him! Now we’re two men short.’
‘Sam was only defending his brother. At least he’s not afraid to get stuck in.’
‘Yeah, Hedin’s the one I’m really angry with. Where is our valiant hero when we need him?’
Thorgrim watched in satisfaction as the wounded were carried off the ice on stretchers, accompanied by a red-faced and furious Sam, who walked beside his brother. ‘You’re next!’ jeered Thorstein, jabbing his finger at Helgi.
The men lifted Kormak off the stretcher and laid him down on the bench. He immediately tried to get up, but fell back again. ‘Don’t move!’ cried Embla. ‘You’ve probably got a broken rib or two after that beating.’ She began to dab at a deep gash on his head and, ignoring Kormak’s protests, smeared it with a sticky smelly paste. Sam sat sullenly beside his brother, but after a while he calmed down enough to persuade Kormak to bare his chest and let Embla examine his bruises.
Audun called the team together to regroup.
‘Jorund, I’m pairing you with Bogi Squint-Eye. He’s fresh on, so he’s our biggest threat. We’re all going to be hard-pressed, since we’re two players short and the marshall’s in league with Eric.’ There was disgruntled muttering from the rest of the team. ‘They’ve resorted to dirty tactics, as we knew they would, thinking this will crush our spirit and give them an easy win. But they can’t see that this will only strengthen our resistance! Because we’re not going to let them get away with this!’ Audun cried, suddenly fired by the thought that, however passionately he felt about stickball, this was more just than a game: they were fighting for themselves, for their lives, for air; and whatever the forces ranged against him, this was a refusal to live his life in fearful submission, to feel guilty for pursuing his desires. ‘Every one of us has the guts and determination to fight back! And when the battle is at its most fierce, we’ll all be looking out for one another. The strongest bonds are forged in the hardest times. So let’s go back out there and give it all we’ve got!’ Everyone roared approval and backslapped each other.
The marshall signalled to the players to assemble in the centre of the ice. Helgi glanced over at Audun, who grinned and gave him the thumb’s-up sign. The ball landed nearest Thorgrim but Audun barged him aside, pulled it close, and spun away just as Bogi Squint-Eye came swooping in on him. Audun looked desperately for an opportunity to pass, and noticing Helgi at the far edge of the lake, unmarked, sent the ball flying out to him.
Helgi scooped up the ball and sped along close to the bank, dodging the rough patches where reeds had frozen just below the ice. He managed to outskate the heavier opponents, but was unable to make a clear pass. Dark hair blew across his face as he glanced around, flushed and anxious, hoping to release the ball to one of his friends. He was aware that Thorgrim and Thorstein were closing in on him from opposite directions. At the last moment, he crouched low and slipped between them. They collided with a sickening crunch and went sprawling on the ice. Helgi straightened up and kept running with the ball, conscious of a surging roar in his ears as the noise of the crowd swelled. He raised his stick and struck at the ball with all his might, firing a long low shot from an acute angle. Two players fell as they tried to reach it and Thorbrand flung himself on top to make a save. Suddenly, an ecstatic roar rang out from the crowd. It took Helgi a moment to realize what had happened to make them so wildly excited: the ball had popped out from under Thorbrand and trickled into the goal. They were now in the lead!
‘Helgi scored! We only need one more to win!’ cried Embla, hopping up and down.
After that, the reality of the game didn’t quite match Audun’s exalted vision. Helgi was exhausted after the all-out effort he had made to score—his legs felt wobbly and uncoordinated—and the team was so badly overstretched that everyone was tired and irritable. The crowd watched with anxious, set faces and as the tension mounted, the Thrashers’ tactics grew increasingly vicious and desperate. Bogi Squint-Eye, who had been thwarted from scoring by Alf, thundered after anyone unlucky enough to stray into his path, bellowing like a maddened bull. Jorund tried to throw him off, but Squint-Eye dived for his legs in a flying tackle and brought him down hard on the ice. Alf and Thorbrand waded into the brawl. Fists began to fly, and a deafening noise erupted around the lake as several hundred voices booed and jeered. There was another furious altercation between Audun and the marshall, and at last the marshall retired to watch from a safe distance and it was left to Audun to try to break up the fight.
The ball flew randomly out of the scrum and rolled across the ice and Helgi ran forward to intercept it, scudding it along as he raced towards the opposite goal. From out of nowhere, Thorgrim swerved into his path and lunged at him viciously with the end of his stick. It struck Helgi in the chest and he landed hard on his back, breaking his bat in two and banging his head on the ice.
Audun gave up trying to discipline the brawlers and scooted after Thorgrim as soon as he saw him spear Helgi with the bat. From where he lay, Helgi could only see Thorgrim streaking off with the ball towards an open goal. The edges of his vision prickled with blackness and there was a loud fizzing in his ears, but to his amazement, he got up without any difficulty and hurtled after Thorgrim, full of fire and aggression.
Helgi flew across the ice at such speed that he could not feel it under his feet. It was like being catapulted from a sling; he could distinguish nothing on either side of him but a confused blur of lights and flashes. He had less than a second to realize that something odd was happening—that he was out of control and locked on a collision course with Thorgrim—and by then it was too late to stop or swerve aside. He braced himself, anticipating a bone-shattering crash, but there was none: he blasted straight through Thorgrim’s body.
At the moment of impact, Thorgrim stumbled forwards as if someone had clubbed him on the back. Helgi felt a sickening jolt, as if he had been struck by lightning, and came to a halt. Pain such as he had never felt before, a cold searing sweat, broke out all over him. It made him want to throw up. Then he felt something twang, like a plucked string, and found himself lying on the ice where he had originally fallen, some distance away from where he had been a moment before.
Thorgrim staggered and swung round to see what had hit him, his eyes wide with shock. His momentary distraction was all it took for Audun to snatch the ball from under his nose and drive it into the empty net for the winning goal.
Victory! The crowd erupted into wild applause and the marshall’s horn rang out, signalling the end of the match. Several of the players had been too busy fighting to notice Audun score, but they came running over to him now and lifted him high on their shoulders. Audun, the hero of the match, raised his arms in victory and a massive cheer reverberated round the lake. He looked for Solveig in the crowd and saw her applauding his triumph with the rest, her face shining. His heart swelled with joy and he could not resist blowing her a kiss. Solveig blushed and Eric glared at him, and taking his niece firmly by the arm, marched out of the stands, followed by his supporters.
Helgi raised himself on one elbow and felt something warm trickling down the back of his neck. He felt for blood, looked at his hand, and wiped it on his trousers. The searing pain had gone, but had left him with a foul, bitter stench in his mouth and nostrils, as if he had passed through a cloud of acrid fog.
Alf was standing over him, beaming from ear to ear. He pulled Helgi up, turned around, and told him to put his arms round his neck. Then he hoisted Helgi onto his back and carried him off the ice.
Thorgrim was shouting at the marshall, and at anyone else who would listen, that Audun’s last goal ought to be disallowed because Helgi had played a dirty trick on him, but nobody was paying him any attention. The rest of his team had already slunk off the ice and the victors were too busy whooping and dancing around.
‘This calls for a celebration!’ cried Audun. They went to one of the food stalls and bought cups of hot spiced wine. Then they sat on one of the benches and toasted their victory, reliving the high points of the match, heaping scorn on the marshall, and savouring the Ericssons’ defeat. Helgi warmed his hands on the cup; the scalding liquid revived him as it slid down his throat. He soon forgot about the peculiar incident at the end of the game, and joined in with the happy laughter. Apart from Kormak’s two broken ribs, the match could not have gone better. He had not only come through the ordeal but distinguished himself! He’d scored gloriously and earned an honourable (but thankfully not too serious) injury. He was tired but greatly relieved, as if he had cast off a heavy burden that had been weighing him down and could now breathe freely. It was over.
By now it was late afternoon. The sun hung low over the mountains and Hedin was still not back.
‘Do you think he’s gone back to the grave mound?’ Helgi asked Audun.
‘He can go to the trolls for all I care,’ Audun replied gruffly.
‘We should go and look for him,’ said Helgi, getting up.
Everyone exchanged uneasy glances.
‘Tell you what, mate. You go and check out the mound first and come back and tell us all about it. Then we’ll decide whether or not we’re comin’ after you,’ said Alf, with a chuckle.
‘You’re in no fit state to go anywhere, Helgi,’ said Embla, ‘That’s a nasty bump on your head—you were out cold for a while.’
‘Yeah. If Hedin enjoys playing the lone hero so much, why spoil things for him?’ added Audun maliciously.
Helgi reluctantly sat down. So much for the values of teamwork and friendship which Audun had extolled only a couple of hours before, he thought. Hedin wasn’t an easy person to like, but he was his cousin. Helgi began to toy with the idea of going alone. Eventually, he made an excuse and slipped away from the party.
Helgi ran back to the shelter and was about to tear off his body-armour when he thought the better of it. He buckled on Footbiter, took Kol, and stealthily left the camp, heading towards the foot of the mountain.
The Adventures of Helgi the Viking 