Conclusion
There was a leaden silence for a second, and then the crowd erupted into cheers. Even Farl’s former supporters joined in. After all, the gods had made their will known and they clearly smiled on the victor. The jarl stood up and put his hand on Thomas’s shoulder.
“You have won and proven your claim,” he said. “First we will send the fallen off with the honor he is due and you will receive your reward tomorrow.” Thomas dropped to one knee and bowed his head, putting his hand against his breast as the village men did when acknowledging the jarl’s orders. The jarl picked up Farl’s head and bade other raiders to collect the body. Then the crowd filed solemnly to the shore.
Bjorn patted Roderick on the head. “He lives,” Bjorn said, playfully rubbing his hand through Roderick’s hair. “I’m sure you would like to congratulate him in your own way, but not tonight.” There was no malice in Bjorn’s voice. In fact, Roderick thought there was something hidden behind those words. But gagged as he was, he could not question.
Bjorn bent down and undid the cords and ropes that held Roderick. “I must go to the funeral,” he said. “Help the other thralls clean and restore the square, then you may join us.” Bjorn smiled and walked to meet the others. Roderick assisted the other slaves in raking out the congealed blood, removing the pole markers, clearing the benches, and bringing the fire pit back into place. It was quick work with many hands and in a few minutes it looked like no battle had taken place.
When Roderick made his way to the rear of the crowd, the funeral was in progress. Farl was laid in a rowboat, resplendent in his armor and furs. His axe and shield lay across his breast and the other warriors were eulogizing him. Each man, in turn, stepped forward and spoke of Farl’s heroic deeds and told a story of how he had saved them in battle. Roderick thought it odd that a man who had acted so dishonorably at the end of his life would be praised so. Bjorn later told him that when a man dies in battle as Farl did, all his sins are forgiven and he is sent to Valhalla with honor to feast in the Hall of Heroes.
When it was Bjorn’s turn, he spoke at great length. He and Farl were of age and had been friends since childhood. The loss hit him hard, but if it was the will of the gods, who was he to question? When he was done, all eyes turned to Thomas. He walked up to the boat and faced the crowd. “Farl taught me many things,” he said… in their language! “How to endure hardship. How to fight and die with honor. He helped make me into a man and I only hope I can live up to his example.” Then he melted back into the crowd.
Bjorn boarded a second rowboat and hitched a towline to Farl’s. He rowed out until he found the current and detached. Then he lit a torch and set Farl’s rowboat ablaze. He rowed back as the flames spread, consuming both boat and man. The fires were seen from shore for hours until they finally disappeared under the waves as the sun rose.
The following day Roderick was forbidden to leave the lodge. The village was preparing for some ceremony or other and he was not to be involved. Such things happened fairly often, so he did not fret overmuch. He did notice that he did not see Thomas in the forge from out his window, though.
When night fell, Roderick sulked as he ate his meager meal alone. He could see that a great feast was being held in the square and the other thralls were invited. Yet he was not. He wondered why, but dared not question. A few hours after sunset, after the feast was done and generous amounts of ale had been consumed, the drums started.
Roderick ran to the window to watch. The warriors were lined up in two rows, forming an aisle that led to the firepit. Bjorn saw him and nodded, indicating that Roderick was allowed to watch. The jarl stood at the head of the line, the smith beside him. There was something sticking out of the fire, but Roderick could not see what it was.
A warrior walked to the thick wooden pole by the Great Lodge and carved Farl’s name into it with ornate runes. The crowd chanted something in their tongue that Roderick could not understand, then the warrior returned to his place in line. Roderick’s jaw dropped at what happened next.
Thomas appeared at the end of the line, between the rows. His thrall collar had been removed! He was barechested and wore not the linen breeches the thralls were issued, but the leather ones the raiders wore. As he passed each pair of warriors, they smacked their axes against their shields in rhythm with the drums. When all had joined in, Thomas stood before the jarl, head raised high.
The two conversed in their tongue and Thomas cursed himself for not paying more attention in the past weeks. He could only understand a few scattered words while Thomas had mastered it quickly. The smith reached into the fire and removed an iron rod with a strange twisted mass on the end. It glowed red hot. The smith walked over to Thomas, who stood firm as the searing end was pressed into the flesh of his left pectoral muscle. He gritted his teeth, but endured in silence. When it was removed, a runic symbol, the one that signified this tribe, was burned into Thomas’ flesh.
The crowd cheered and descended on Thomas, embracing him and patting him on the back. He was given a tankard of ale and a comely female thrall tended his brand with ointment. A warrior whispered something to Thomas, who smiled, and scooped the woman up in his arms. He carried her into the smithy and shut the door behind them. The crowd howled and cheered and began the revelry, which lasted well into the night.
In the morning, Roderick went outside and collected Bjorn from where he was passed out in the square. He struggled to help the giant to his feet and walked him back to the lodge, where his breakfast was waiting. Bjorn ate in silence, clutching his head. When he was done eating and felt better, Bjorn bade Roderick to clear the table and return. “I assume you want to know what happened last night,” he said.
“Yes sir,” Roderick said. “I do.
Bjorn smiled. “Then have a seat as I have much to say,” he said. “Thomas received his reward for victory last night. His terms of challenge were that if he won, he would be freed from thralldom and made a warrior of our people. Many protested this claim, but Farl himself accepted it. He must have thought his chances of losing were so small that it didn’t matter what Thomas requested.”
Roderick’s eyes widenend. He was floored.
“After Farl’s name was carved into the Place of Honor, Thomas was inducted into our ranks,” Bjorn said. He smiled and looked at the door. Roderick whirled around and saw Thomas standing there, clad in the leather and furs of a warrior.
“Thomas!” Roderick cried. Thomas ran to him and embraced him tightly. The two looked into each other’s eyes and then Thomas kissed him full out. Roderick recoiled, shocked that he would do this in front of Bjorn. “Thomas, no!” he said, his heart aching. “We cannot do this! Bjorn…”
Thomas placed his finger on Roderick’s lips. “Quiet, sweet thing, or I shall have to gag you.” He chuckled and turned to Bjorn. “You haven’t told him?”
“I was about to,” Bjorn said, “but you interrupted me.”
Thomas laughed. “Then I shall tell him,” he said. “I am a warrior, but I am still the lowest ranked of the men. I have not yet been in a raid. And I have no knowledge of axe fighting and need a teacher. So, by edict of the jarl, I am now Bjorn’s ‘son.’ He will instruct me in proper fighting techniques and be responsible for completing my ‘education.’ I will live here until it is decided I can have a lodge of my own. And while I am here, everything my ‘father’ owns…” he grasped Roderick’s nethers with both hands. “…I own as well.”
Roderick’s heart fluttered. “A slave may serve two masters,” he said, smiling.
Bjorn clapped him on the back. “And serve us you shall!” he said. He looked over at Thomas. “What say you we begin your education early today?”
“Just the lesson I was hoping for!” Thomas said. He turned Roderick around and pulled leather thongs from his belt. “But first father must teach me the proper way to bind a thrall. Such lessons are important.”
Bjorn smiled. He removed Roderick’s tunic and demonstrated to Thomas how to securely bind and restrain a captive’s hands behind his back. And Thomas was a quick and able learner.
“But there is more,” Thomas said once Roderick was fully tied to Bjorn’s satisfaction. “We go raiding in three days’ time. A small village on the Frisian coast. Should be little trouble. Good chance for me to prove my mettle. My beard should grow in by then.”
“And earn you your first raid-mark,” Bjorn said. He rolled up his sleeve and displayed the ornate patterns etched into his skin in dark ink. “After each raid, a warrior gets a mark to commemorate his heroism.” He removed his tunic and showed one of the marks on his chest. “This is the one I received when I captured you, Roderick.”
“And I shall choose my new name, as well,” Thomas said, sitting the bound Roderick on his knee. “Thomas is a fine name for an Englishman, but will not do for a fierce Viking warrior. What should I choose?”
“How about Baldur?” Roderick said. “Wasn’t he the most beautiful of the gods?”
“I like that!” Bjorn said. “And fitting.”
Thomas smiled. “We shall see,” he said. “And how about you, sweet thing? Will you choose a new name fitting of your place as our lowly thrall? I hope you have accepted your… lot.”
Roderick smiled. “I will accept whatever my masters choose,” he said. “It is a thrall’s duty to obey.”
Bjorn grinned. “Aye, it is,” he said. “Now, Baldur, what say we take the lad to the bedroom and continue your ‘education?’ He doth have two ends.”
Thomas stood and scooped Roderick over his shoulder, carrying him like a sack of plunder. Roderick playfully kicked and shouted, “Unhand me, you heathen Nordic brutes!” he joked. “I am an English Lord, I will not be violated so callously!”
Picking up on the cue, Thomas put Roderick down and gagged him tightly with a cloth from the table. “It is time was silence that protesting mouth of yours! It seems you have little choice in the matter, young lordling,” he said. He and Bjorn loomed over the tightly-bound figure of Roderick with pretend menace. “We savage raiders will sup on your sweet nectar this day, and many days thereafter.” He snatched Roderick up again and followed Bjorn to the bedroom, carrying his prize over his shoulder.
THE END