Chapter Eight
As Grimhild nursed her pride at fleeing before the ranting of a fishwife, her husband & thier many offspring, the others repacked having decided to abandon the scow & go back to the trails.
Heading west along the lakes shore five hours walking eventually took them to the many feeder streams that run into the Roxen's headwaters, picking thier way across the shallows, in which Thorfinn takes an unfortunate & unexpected bath, they climb away from the water until they are concealed beneath the cramped boughs, deciding that they'd walked far enough for one day, seven miles or so, the camp is set &, for the second time that day, break out some of the fish salted from the previous days catch.
Thorfinn, ever aware of possible pursuit, insists on watches being set for the night, however about the only disturbance to thier nights rest is during Grimhild's stint when a large Ural owl's wings brush silently brush her face.
Waking early, the 30th day of Einmánuður, they are greeted by low clouds & constant rain which promises to continue for most of the day to come, after a couple of hours strenuous uphill walking they finally break through the tree line & emerge onto the muddied track which will ultimately lead them to the gates of Motala, with nobody in sight & their disguise as honest travellers enforced they continue west keeping a watchful gaze ahead for other travellers.
Mid afternoon, Ragnar, on point, spots an approaching wagon, fairly sure he has gone unnoticed, he turns on his heals & falls back to warn the others of the wagons approach. Quickly Grimhild & Annora leave the track & conceal themselves a dozen yards or so back within the woods, whilst Thorfinn & Ragnar stroll on without any apparent concerns.
Ten minutes or so later the two draw level with the slow moving wagon, atop the wagon an obese & elderly man wearing the robes & paraphernalia of a priest of the green Christ sits with a young girl at his side, walking to either side of the wagons team are two young men, poorly attired but carrying stout ash staffs. Drawing in the wagon the priest courteously address Thorfinn & asks for any news of the path ahead, likewise Ragnar asks for news of the road towards Motala. After a few pleasantries the priest bids the pair gods speed & gestures to one of the youths to lead on, watching the wagon creak along, Thorfinn & Ragnar take their leisure assuming Grimhild & Annora will shortly be along.
Concealed within the woods Annora & Grimhild, unable to see what is happening, impatiently wait for the wagon to move past their hiding place, Grimhild nervously fingers an arrow shaft & then readies her bow in case trouble ensues. After what seams an age the wagon slowly creeps past thier hiding place, however, just as it passes, the youth nearest to them suddenly startles, screams a warning to the priest, raises his staff & charges towards the bewildered Grimhild, Grimhild realising how it looks, drops her bow & raises her hands to show she means no harm, half turning towards Annora, Grimhild is shocked to see her, no longer hiding, but skirts raised fleeing with all speed through the woods.
Thinking quickly, Grimhild spins a tale to the priest of indiscretion, vengeful neighbours & weak bladders, miraculously, the priest swallows the yarn completely.
Several hundred yards along the track Annora catches up with Thorfinn & Ragnar & breathlessly confesses Grimhild's action, fortunately however before blades are needlessly drawn, Grimhild, blushing, appears along the trail.
Thankful that the encounter had not resulted in violence Thorfinn pushed her companions to put as much distance between the fat priest & themselves, before nightfall however, in fact less less than an hour later, they find thier path barred by a single, unusually attired, warrior, at first his command to hold thier ground are ignored however Grimhild & Annora both notice movement of to sides which quickly materialises into at least twenty similarly armed men.
Realising that resistance would be futile Thorfinn reluctantly allows herself & the others to be escorted off the track & into the woods, all four attempt to question their escort as to why they have been detained, other than the thier original protagonist however none of the warriors surrounding them give any response. Some three quarters of an hour later they are lead into a small clearing where several other detained travellers were clustered quietly around a roaring fire. Over the next hour or so several more prisoners, some not so passive, were lead into the clearing, all were fed & then left to themselves, presumably confident in the ability of the guards around the clearing, so confident it would seem that none of the swords of any of those detained were removed.
Eventually, as evening drew close, their captor approached & spoke loudly to all those around the fire pit,
"I make no apology for your detention, my Lord has business in this accursed land & will soon return, he will wish to talk to all gathered, speak the truth & no harm will befall you"
Waiting for the supposed return of the vassals lord Ragnar finally realises what had been nagging at the back of his mind, the speakers words, whilst spoken in the Nordic tongue, were heavily accented, it was only know that it dawned on Ragnar that she had heard similar several years earlier when a trio of Frankish merchants had met with her then employer to discuss the price of whale fat.
Shortly thereafter thier host rode into the clearing atop a grey gelding, several hands higher than anything Thorfinn had ever seen, let alone ridden, like thier guards this man was armoured strangely to Thorfinn's eyes, whilst chainmail featured heavily, its cut was like nothing he had seen before & its quality for surpassed that of anything her fathers smiths could ever dream of producing.
Dismounting, their captors benefactor handed the reins of his war-horse to an attending vassal & stripping his cloak as he went entered the small pavilion erected off to one side of the clearing, for the next hour men scurried hither & thither attending to their lords every need, eventually however, his wants satisfied, the detainee's are lead, one by one, into the tent to be questioned by the unknown lord, all those leaving the tent were prevented from speaking to those yet to be questioned.
Quickly Thorfinn & his companions went over thier story as to why they were travelling towards Motala before first Annora, then Grimhild, followed by Ragnar & finally Thorfinn were lead away for questioning.
Stood before the lord's table, Thorfinn waited patiently whilst the unnamed lord finished picking the bones out of a particularly odorous dish, pushing the bowl aside, the lord spoke to his vassal in a language which Ragnar had suggested was Frankish, his vassal, interpreting on his lords behalf.
Thorfinn, half expecting to be questioned about her fathers murder, was taken aback when the lords translated questions were predominantly about who Thorfinn & her companions had met with in recent days, as the lord listened to Thorfinn's tissue of lies, Thorfinn felt the mans eye's boring into him, eyes that finally rested upon the finely wrought pommel of Tyrfrost, uncomfortable, Thorfinn was relieved when eventually he was dismissed.
Later, having rejoined his companions around the fire, the lords spokesman told all that they were free to leave however given the lateness of the hour all were welcome to remain within the camp under his lords protection for the night should they wish, most on hearing this news opted to stay, only a few noisy grumbling regarding the indignity of thier detention departing.
As Thorfinn & the others sat & discussed the Frankish knights questioning, & before they had decided whether to remain for the night, the lords aid approached & requested that his master wished to clarify a number of matters with Thorfinn, fearing the worst, Thorfinn slowly rose & followed the messenger back to the pavilion, inside the knight sat waiting.
Via his servant, the lord, gestured to the hilt of Tyrfrost, asking how such as Thorfinn & his companions came to be travelling as a commoner yet bearing the blade of one highborn, in return, Thorfinn drawing upon every ounce of his wit, wove a tale of injustice, murder & deeds of valour without actually telling a spit of truth, intrigued, the knight took the bait, swallowed & apologised for the further inconvenience.
Almost grinning Thorfinn rejoined her companions around the fire & announced they would remain until daybreak.
The next morning, the twelfth since the murder of Solmund Silken Tongue, Rig-Jarl of Birka, son of Vandrad Shortshanks, Grimhild lead the others back towards the forest track which would ultimately take them to the gates of Motala. With rain laden clouds hanging above them, Thorfinn pushed hard to cover the last few miles before the storm broke & by mid morning they were rewarded by sight of the town down below them.
Thorfinn & his companions wasted no more time & unobtrusively slipped through those gathered gossiping around the town gates & in the direction of Thorfinn's Uncle's premises, on his mothers side. Thorfinn had in his youth spent several happy weeks under his Uncle Kärkkäinen's roof with his younger cousins making war upon all who opposed them, however he had not travelled this way since that time & he was unsure what welcome he would be given, particularly if news of his supposed patricide had reached thier hearth. With such thoughts in mind it was agreed that Annora & Grimhild would first carry word Thorfinn's remaining family before Thorfinn presented himself before them.
So it was that some thirty minutes or so later the two women, Annora & Grimhild, found themselves before an immense woman, Thorfinn's Aunt, Irina, trying to explain why Thorfinn wasn't present &why he hadn't murdered his father. With thunderous lungs, Irina despatched a thrall to seek out her husband, &, after much, cajoling of the ladies, to fetch Thorfinn & Ragnar.
Thirty minutes later Thorfinn accompanied his trusty friends stands under his Uncle's gaze . . . . . . . . .