beautiful, the boats you make I mean, strong and proud. Wouldn’t it be more honorable to ride one towards unknown lands and battles?”
Ambjorn grew silent. It wasn’t the first time that this issue had been brought to him.
“Home is a place for man. Our forefathers didn’t leave for the summer when there was plenty of work around. Or is it honorable to you to make the women do all the work of men, while you drink beer in faraway ports and sharpen your axe for murder?”
Bert waved his hand impatiently. They had been talking silently enough so that the men coming after them hadn’t heard their exchange.
“Let it be then, it has been talked about before and there is no way to turn you away from your madness,” Bert finally blurted.
The morning sun shone now and then between the ragged clouds that were slowly drifting in the mellow wind. Small things like this were not noticed by the hunters as they were preoccupied with more important things.
The increasingly frantic barking gave more power to the efforts of the running men. Hands gripped weapons more tightly as keen eyes tried to find a sign of the brown ruler of the forest. The exhausted men finally ceased their run next to a thicket that was growing in a dell. Furious barking could be heard from the center of the thicket. Hidden there was their prize, for which they had been running for half a day.
“Clever beast,” Bert contemplated. “It has seen dogs and hunters before, perhaps. We must form a blockade around the thicket so it won’t escape. Then we tighten the loop until it is caught.”
“Caught caught, into the bag,” Erik laughed by himself. The seriousness of the situation seemed to slip off him completely.
“It will be dangerous,” Ambjorn replied. “A single man against a bear in the thicket if the worst happens.”
Bert spat on the ground. His expression was hard as stone.
“Life is full of dangers. Death by combat is a good death.” His eyes burned with anticipation. He managed to restrain himself enough to let Ambjorn carry the order to the others.
The men put the plan in action. The thicket was not too big and they spread out silently around it. When a man reached his designated position, he would make a short whistle, and after the all twelve of them had been heard, they started to slowly approach the center of the thicket.
Ambjorn kept a keen eye on the undergrowth and squeezed the heavy spear in his hands. Bows were not suitable weapons for this work, as one could get only one shot against the attacking bear, if any. The barking grew stronger still, until suddenly a sound of a large body crashing through the woods could be heard. A brown figure dashed through the thicket straight towards Ambjorn.
The old man wiped the foam off his gray beard with a contented sigh. He had emptied the first tankard with one gulp and now pushed it to Jofrid to be refilled. While his silent wish was being granted he took out a small bundle of leather from a bag he carried on his belt. He put it gently on the table between him and Jofrid and when it opened, a worn game board made out of leather appeared. In addition to the board, many pieces also spilled out from the pouch on the table.
Jofrid admired the pieces as they were of fine craftsmanship. There were white and red ones, each carrying runes made with unbelievable accuracy. The morning sun glared from their glassy surface, making them look even more ethereal. The man started to spread the pieces on the board, red ones to the center and whites, in their own pattern, to the edges, around the outnumbered reds.
“Blood-red dawn or white death, let’s play King’s table.” He placed the final pieces in their place.
“What if I say I am too busy to play games?” she answered.
“That would be a rude thing to say to a guest, wouldn’t it,” he replied with colorless voice. “And if you do not play, you lose and losing always has consequences.”
The morning wind hummed in the birches that were cornering the yard. Suddenly Jofrid felt a chill running through her.
“Do I need to teach you the rules or do you know them,” the man asked and moved a white piece on the board.
“King’s table is familiar to me, but this board is bigger. This has more pieces than the ones I’ve played.”
“Same rules still apply. You must get your red king to a corner and I need to surround it. It’s your move.”
Jofrid thought for a long time and finally moved a piece.
The game progressed slowly. Jofrid took long turns of pondering whereas the old man always moved his pieces swiftly when his turn came.
Again he moved a white piece. Red was caught between two whites and he snatched it out from the board. The furrow between Jofrid’s eyes got deeper.
“Your move,” he simply replied. The man was evidently satisfied with the progress of the game.
Jofrid thought for a long time again and finally made her move. He didn’t bother to think in his turn but moved immediately. Again a red was caught between two whites and he took it away from the board with nimble fingers.
Jofrid’s sigh was audible.
“You know, this is not a good day to hunt for a bear,” he mused and caressed his beard.
“Why not?” Jofrid asked. She barely controlled her tone.
“Today is the day of the dead. The day of misfits, the day of the lame. The day of those who were taken by illness or broke their oaths. Can’t you feel the waiting in the air, hear the faint whispers? Never before they have been given such a chance, and never again will it be given after this day.”
“What do you mean?” Jofrid asked and glanced around uncontrollably. The dead he promised could not be seen anywhere though.
“Today they can, even if just for a short while, try to break the miserable fate they have on the other side.”
He grew silent and finally she shifted her attention back to the events in the game.
A large bear lay with his snout downward in the thick underlay. The spear that had severed its life string stuck out from its back and the men gathered around the fallen beast. Dogs were tied down, so that they wouldn’t tear the body. The bear had demanded a heavy price for its life; it had taken two of the hunters with it to the land of the shadow. Their torn bodies lay next to the animal, tangled with blood-stained bushes and shrubs.
“That was a tough beast,” Erik said breaking the silence. If the smirk on his face had been wiped away by the battle, it was now returning swiftly.
“That was a mighty fine thrust Ambjorn,” Bert cheered. “Even your brother Thorleik would be proud.”
Ambjorn’s expression was dark.
“I wonder if there are bears over the seas.”
“He is not cutting bears’ but men’s throats, and hoarding silver. I once remember when he ...”
“Save your stories for home fires. We must carry both the men and the bear back from here”, he said abruptly. The felling of the animal hadn’t touched his mood.
Men formed a simple stretcher out of spears and skins they had brought with them to the woods. Ambjorn read a prayer for the spirits of the forest while the others poured the blood of the animal on the ground.
Suddenly the dogs lifted their snouts high and sniffed the air. They let out a long and fearful howl. To the surprise of the men the dogs yanked themselves free from their leashes and ran into the woods. The sky became darker even though there were only a few ragged clouds hanging on the sky, and none of them in front of the sun.
The men glanced at both the sky and each other, nervously.
“Let’s hurry,” Ambjorn stated briefly.
“There is an odd hue in the air,” Erik replied. His face was something that almost resembled seriousness.
They hurried the men back to their work and soon the bodies were loaded on the makeshift stretcher. Men lifted it to their shoulders and started their arduous journey towards home.
“A giant’s cart would be lighter,” said Erik.
“I almost wish I was laying there with the dead,” Bert replied. “They drink the best of meads tonight.”
They pro
gressed slowly, as two of the carriers were now among the carried. None of them complained under their weight, though.
The shadow on the sky grew darker still. It was as if darkness itself was eating the sun piece by piece, forcing the hard-working men to travel in unnatural dusk.
“I wonder whether they get into the hall of heroes tonight, or after the final battle between the gods.” Erik blabbered while looking at the dead that they were carrying.
“What are you talking about?” Bert replied snappily, but glanced at the sky nonetheless.
“You know that when the gods blow the horn they will call everyone for the final battle. When the wolves catch the sun and the moon and feast on them until they are no more.”
“If it is so, how can we fight with Tor against the giants in the darkness?”
“The Fire Giant will set the world on fire. It is good to die among the flames.”
The men turned their attention to carrying the load in the growing darkness.
The red king had managed to progress far from the center of the board, but it was now surrounded by pieces of both colors. The old man had managed to take out two red pieces, but all his whites were still on board. The phase of the game was extremely tense.
“Are you happy with your life?” he suddenly blurted in between moves.
“That is no longer in the field of hospitality,” she replied with a snap.
“Your life is good here, the village is prospering and your house is rich. Still, I cannot see a mother’s happiness in your eyes nor a son toddling around your feet.” The man