Chapter Text
Th' unwise prevail, they lodge it in the walls,
And by the gods' decree proud Ilion falls:
Destruction enters in the treach'rous wood,
And vengeful slaughter, fierce for human blood.
Odyssey Book VIII
I.
"Is he Danish? "
When their fleet arrived in East Anglia and camped outside the nearby village for the night, Håland finally relented and asked the question to Ødegaard next to him.
In fact, he had little interest in the warriors under The Boneless. He had not spoken a word to the Danes along the way since they set out from Dublin together. Even on the sea route in the south, the people on the same boat with him were basically Danes, and he had never communicated with any of them.
But the man was so strange -- he'd been looking at him almost the whole way -- that he wondered if the other man had spotted him too. The man's complexion was different from all the others, a brownish hue that stood out in a crowd of light-haired, light-skinned Danes. His skin colour reminded Håland of the dark mountains that had peeked out from under the snow in the summer when he lived in Norway, verdant, yet obscured by misty clouds.
"Does he look like one to you? " Ødegaard chuckled as he putting up the wooden frame. Håland thought he might be asking a stupid question, but he went along with it, "Not quite."
Unlike himself, Ødegaard had set out directly from Dublin with the troop, whereas he had been called up from the Norwegian region. Having lived in Dublin for some time before that with Óláfr the White, the leader of the Norwegians in Ireland, he would have been more familiar with the Danes in Dublin, which is why Håland asked him the question.
"He's English." Ødegaard replied, "They all call him Bellingham."
"English?" Håland paused, "What's an Englishman doing in our ranks?"
"It is said that he was looted from a monastery in east Kent." Ødegaard said, "The abbey won't pay the ransom. He was abandoned, and thus followed those Danes to Dublin."
"Is he a slave?" Håland asked.
"By definition, indeed… The monastery discarded him, while The Boneless treated him with courtesy, winning his willing service." Ødegaard shrugged, "As you can now see, no one treats him like a slave."
Håland's eyes then crossed to Ødegaard and looked to Bellingham, who was talking to the other Danes by the campfire not far behind him. The Danes seemed to be asking him something, and he was answering. Maybe they didn't understand after listening for a long time, Bellingham got a little impatient and began to wave his hands in the air. His voice was so loud that Håland could hear exactly what he was saying.
"Oh, he's cursing." Håland said subconsciously.
"That's right, he's a veritable grumpy." Ødegaard laughed, "Whoever gets in his way will definitely be scolded, especially on the battlefield."
"Has he ever been on the battlefield?" Håland paused for a moment and added, "With the Danes? "
"Of course, otherwise The Boneless wouldn't have brought him on this expedition." Ødegaard said, "He's such a versatile handyman. The Boneless appreciated him so much that he was given special treatment unlike any other slave. It was not only his bravery on the battlefield, but also in other areas, such as medicine, navigation and even sword-forging," He hung a huge woolen blanket on the newly built shelf and said to Håland, "See that sword in the hands of The Boneless? The blade and the hilt of that sword came from that bloke."
"That's a good sword." Håland remembered that he had observed it intentionally before. When the fleet landed ashore, The Boneless pulled out the sword. It is a double-edged single-handed sword with fine patterns carved on both sides of the blood groove. The sharp blade shines cold light.
"But he's going to change it soon." Ødegaard sorted out the tapestry, took out a few smaller blankets, put them in the little propped up tent, and said: "From what the Danes said, it seems that Bellingham is going to cast a new sword for him here. For they found forests of ash wood in East Anglia*. He will use them to forge a new sword with the power of the World Tree for The Boneless before the Vikings attack Northumbria next spring."
After a pause, he threw Håland's blanket into his arms and said, "And this power that can help The Boneless succeed in conquering England."
"Casting a sword out of wood?" Håland took the blanket and followed Ødegaard into the tent. "He's sure he's not just making a hilt?"
"Whatever." Ødegaard said: "It's between them Danes. I don't think we'll be here for long. To be honest, I've had enough of the Danes. "
Håland didn't understand and looked at Ødegaard in confusion. Ødegaard leaned closer to Håland and said to him in a lowered voice, "The Boneless and the Danes have ambitions for all of England, but our Olaf thinks otherwise."
"Aren't we going to follow The Boneless to attack Northumbria next spring?" Håland asked.
Ødegaard shook his head, "We will leave.
"Back to Dublin?"
"Dublin is important, but we're not going back." Ødegaard said, "The Norwegian stronghold is in Ireland and taking the whole of England with the Danes makes no sense to us. If you ask me, it won't be long before Olaf the White taking us away from the hordes and focusing on Scotland and the west coast of Wales, which he can control."
"In other words, we will not march with The Boneless?"
"Right." Ødegaard looked over at Håland and joked, "Disappointed?"
"No." Håland pulled the blanket over his head, "Just curious about the next adventure."
Ødegaard laughed, but didn't say anything else in return. Håland covered his head under the blanket, felt Ødegaard lying down next to him. He sticked his head out of the blanket a little. The campfire outside the tent was still burning, and a little faint light filtered in through the gaps between the threads of the blanket. He pricked up his ears and listened carefully, but did not seem to hear Bellingham's voice again.
After a long silence, Håland suddenly asked, "If Bellingham really forged that sword with the power of World Tree for The Boneless, would The Boneless be able to conquer all of England for sure?"
He heard Ødegaard 's breathing, very steady, but he knew he wasn't asleep.
But he did not answer him either.
Rolling over, Håland turned his back to the light outside. His vision fell into a darkness.
Perhaps. He answered himself, but not for sure.
The World Tree will eventually be devoured by The Dragon. So it's not necessarily a good thing to have the power of the World Tree.
But what does all this have to do with him? Maybe tomorrow, Håland thought, he would leave with the other Norwegians and never see the Danes again in his life.
II.
Håland thought that before he left the hordes with Olaf the White, he would have no dealings with the Danes -- at least until the Norwegians and Danes started a conflict.
In fact, he didn't know exactly why the two sides fought. He was sitting in his tent polishing his sword when he heard a noise outside. He remembered Ødegaard told him this morning that Olaf the White was taking a few men to the farm to collect grain to prepare for the next year's attack. He thought they had returned, but as soon as he stepped out of the tent with his sword, he saw a group of men outside fighting with swords, spears, axes, and all sorts of other weapons. For a moment, Håland thought that the soldiers of East Anglia were coming, but after a while, he found that they were all his own.
Most people he knew didn't seem to be here, and amidst the chaos he finally saw someone he felt he could strike up a conversation with, but not from his side, in the ranks of Danes. Håland recalled that his name seemed to be Grealish, and he was remembered for a drunk dance on the sail.
Without a second thought, Håland went over and escorted the man out of the crowd. As he dragged Grealish out of the crowd, he asked, quite affectionately, "What's this about?"
Suddenly been pulled by him, Grealish seemed confused. Instead of answering Håland's question, he just shouted in surprise: "Erling Håland?"
Håland blocked the spear coming at him from the side with scabbard to deflect, looked behind at Grealish and asked, "You people made the first move?"
"To be honest, I don't know who moved first." Grealish looked innocent, "Seems like it was over the grain collected from the farm. Your people said our people took the big end and there was a fight."
"Very good." Håland commented, "Where's Olaf the White and The Boneless? Leaving the warriors of each side cutting each other's throat?"
"They're still at the farm." Grealish said, "I think someone just went to get them."
"Let's leave first." Not wanting to get involved, Håland pulled Grealish towards the outside of the crowd, but the Danes around won't let him. Håland was a tall and rather eye-catching figure and many of the Danes recognised him, and at this point his presence in the crowd was such that the Danes took it for granted that he had joined the fray. So, before Håland and Grealish got a chance to flee, all weapons rushed towards them.
Fortunately, with his sword still in his hand, Håland blocked a few blows with his scabbard and was forced to retreat. Just as he kept going backwards, his back suddenly slammed into a man, blocking his retreat.
Nearly losing his balance, Håland looked back in a hurry, only to see a pair of piercing eyes.
Those eyes were so bright and the midday sunlight fell right into those two grains of black amber -- he was looking back at him, too.
It was Bellingham, who bumped back to back with Håland from behind.
Bellingham seemed stunned at the sight of him, but Håland didn't have the time to bother with that as he saw a Norwegian behind Bellingham raising his axe. At that very moment, Håland took Bellingham's arm reflexively and yanked him behind himself. The Norwegian knew him, of course, and was rather dismayed to see Håland defending one of The Boneless's men.
"Stop." Håland shielded Bellingham with his tall frame, and his taut demeanor awed the Norwegians and Danes in front of him. The other people around them heard his voice and stopped their jostling and looked this way.
" We didn't travelled all across the oceans to kill each other." Håland raised his hand to protect Bellingham while frowning at the crowd that was still tangled up in front of them, "All stop. We wait for Olaf the White and The Boneless to return."
Though he was not the leader of the Vikings, Håland's husky build and slightly intimidating look was enough to make every Viking obey his orders. The Danes and Norwegians eventually parted in swearing and cursing, threatening to wipe out the other side once their chiefs return.
As he watched the crowd gradually disperse, Håland then thought to turn back to greet the Englishman whom he had just shielded behind him. But before he could fully turn back around, he felt his hand being picked up. He looked down and saw Bellingham suddenly grabbed a Dane who was about to leave and saying angrily, "I saw it! You cut him with an arrow."
His gaze then fell on his left hand, which was being held by Bellingham, and there was a long gash on the back of this sword-holding hand where blood was constantly oozing.
When did this happen? Håland didn't even notice. The Dane looked puzzled, "It was such a mess just now. How could I know who I cut?"
Then he heard Bellingham say something he didn't understand, in a very strong tone, and he guessed that he was cursing in the dialect of England or some part of Denmark. Then he saw Bellingham reaching out to the sword at his waist. He didn't want the riots that had stopped so hard to rekindle, and he was also afraid that Bellingham might get hurt -- though he didn't know why he was suddenly and inexplicably worried about the Englishman. He hurriedly stepped between Bellingham and the Dane and said to Bellingham, "Just a scratch, I'm fine."
Bellingham still seemed a little irritated, and Håland turned to the Dane, " You or not, never point your weapon at our own again. Leave."
Facing a big one and a grumpy one, the Dane left in a hurry, knowing he couldn't get the upper hand. Seeing the Dane leave, Bellingham cursed words Håland didn't understand while making a move to go after him, but was grabbed by Håland.
"Don't chase. So chaotic just now, injuries are inevitable." Håland asked, "Are you injured?"
Only then did Bellingham look back at Håland. Illusion or not, Håland felt that Bellingham's expression, which had been full of hostility a moment ago, softened as he saw him. He looked at Håland and shook his head.
It was then that Håland realised that his hand had still been held by Bellingham. He hastily pulled his hand back from Bellingham's, turned his head and started calling out Grealish's name as if to cover up something. The guy slipped in a flash and he didn't know where he'd gone.
"He just left." Bellingham said, "Probably went to find Olaf the White and The Boneless."
Håland froze for a moment. Without thinking, he asked straight away, "You know each other?" He regretted the question soon as he asked. For he remembered that Bellingham was also from the Danish side and must have known Grealish.
"English too." Bellingham answered him earnestly. Then, without waiting for Håland 's answer, he added, "Come with me or ...... I go back with you; your wound needs treatment."
Håland looked at the brown-skinned young man holding his left hand, his eyes gazing at the bleeding wound, and his brain, for some reason not working very well, forgot that he was supposed to politely decline the offer and said, as if spellbound bizarrely, "...... I'll come."
It was only when he led Bellingham back to his and Ødegaard 's tent that he asked himself in mind, as if just relieved from an enchantment, how he had brought the Englishman back with him. He was a little apprehensive, and then saw Bellingham took a couple of flasks from a pouch he had hanging on the side of his waist, and a pile of clean linen, and lay them out in front of him.
"What ...... is this?" Håland was nervous as hell, and hell only knows why he was suddenly so nervous. It certainly wasn't fear that the Englishman, who was half his size, would suddenly jump up and chop him up with an axe nearby, anyway.
Bellingham gave him a look and replied, "Herbs. It stops the bleeding."
I seem to have asked a stupid question again. Håland sighed inwardly. Until Bellingham had medicated his wound and bandaged it with linen, he didn't say another word.
Turns out it was Bellingham who finally broke the slightly awkward silence between the two men.
"…Erling Håland? "
He called out his name, as if calling him out of a dream into reality. He froze for a moment, looked over at Bellingham and asked foolishly, "English too?"
He saw Bellingham smile. For the first time, he saw him smile. He thought of Bellingham, who had been expressionless earlier, and suddenly realised that perhaps he was not indifferent, perhaps just as nervous as he was.
"What nonsense are you talking?" Bellingham looked at him with a big grin, "Erling Håland, offspring of Thorgils the Devil§, fierce warrior of a young age. There shouldn't be any warrior from Scandinavia who wouldn't know you."
"I see. Then there are probably more people know me in Dublin." Håland shrugged and went along with him, "But only in stories, most of them have never met me."
"True enough. After all, Dublin is now the masterpiece of Thorgils." Bellingham said, "But rather than The Devil, more stories are about you. You stood against the king of Norway and saved hundreds of slaves taken from France and England."
"That was all before." Håland said gently, "I just did what I thought I had to."
Just as Bellingham was about to say something, there was another noise outside the tent. Bellingham, who was one step closer to the outside, lifted the woolen blanket that blocked the view. As soon as he did so, a face peeked out from the outside.
"Bloody hell! What you Englishman doing here?" Grealish blurted out.
"Hell to you too! What you Englishman doing here exactly?" Bellingham shot back.
Then another face appeared behind Grealish. It was Ødegaard. Grealish made a space for Ødegaard, who looked at Bellingham and then at Håland, and said, "Olaf the White and The Boneless are back."
"Heard the stamp of hoofs." Håland said, "They rode back?"
"Fast as they can." Ødegaard said, "They are gathering at the seaside to discuss the distribution of grain. You come?"
"I don't care much about these things," Håland said. "You go."
There was something meaningful in Ødegaard 's eyes, and without further ado he turned and left the tent. Grealish also looked to Bellingham and asked, "Aren't you going?"
"It's not like I have a say in it." Bellingham said, "I would only suggest that they give the grain back to the farm."
"Fair enough, I'll say it." Grealish turned to leave and Bellingham hastened to stop him, "Don't be impulsive, it's good to be alive, isn't it?"
In the end neither Grealish nor Bellingham went to the gathering. Before leaving, Bellingham left the flasks behind and instructed Håland to change his medication in time. Håland sat in his tent and heard Bellingham say something excitedly to Grealish as soon as he left his sight, but he couldn't quite figure it out. Although the languages of Danes, Norwegians and Englishmen are generally interchangeable, he still can't make full sense of some dialects, especially of the English regions.
Ødegaard didn't come back until twilight, and when he did Håland was fiddling with the little flasks Bellingham had left for him. Ødegaard saw it and didn't say anything about it. He just told him that after the rally, Olaf the White approached him alone and told him of his plans to leave the large troops.
"Leave for Wales?" Håland asked, "Or Scotland?"
"Still in plan." Ødegaard answered, "Also, don't get too close to the Dane."
Håland stopped fiddling with the small flasks, turned to look at Ødegaard and smiled.
"Not Dane." He said.
"English."
III.
Without surprise, Håland was sized up viciously while inquiring the Danes about Bellingham.
Scared of Håland's sturdy physique, however, a few Danes told him. He followed their instructions and found an abandoned house to the west of the camp. He didn't dare to knock hard as he was afraid he might break down the rickety, broken door in one fell swoop.
One light knock. The door opened.
Bellingham seemed to have just woken up, yawning as he opened the door. As soon as he opened the door and saw that it was Håland, he stifled that half-yawn. He looked at Håland in surprise, as if asking him why he was here.
Håland was amused by Bellingham's appearance. He raised his voice and asked, "Have a roast?"
"Have a what?" Bellingham asked with a puzzled expression. Without answering, Håland glanced behind Bellingham and asked politely, "May I come in?"
Bellingham responded by hastily making way, and Håland walked in with a chill carrying the hare he had just hunted.
The hearth in the hall was crackling with fire. Håland had just taken his cloak off when Bellingham took it naturally and helped him hang it on the wall.
"Here you are." Håland handed Bellingham a small cloth bag. He took it; it was the small vials of medicine he had left with Håland earlier.
"The wound is almost healed." Håland moved his left hand, "At least no problem with wielding the sword. I caught a hare on my way here, hope it's not too humble as a thank you gift, right?"
"It's only right that I thank you." Bellingham looked at the hare in Håland's hand, "Need a knife?"
"If you have one. My sword is not very handy."
Bellingham then took a short knife from the room to his right and handed it to Håland, and then fetched a bucket of water from the well at the back of the house. Håland sat on a low stool skillfully peeling the hare, and Bellingham sat in front of him and asked, "How do you know I'm here?"
"The Danes told me that." Håland looked up at him, "They seems super grumpy."
"I bet all those Danes who don't like you are basically jealous because they can't compete with you." Bellingham picked up the branches next to him and used his short knife to sharpen them into wooden skewers while roasting them over the fire, "They're just all bullies themselves."
"You don't like them?" Håland asked.
"For those weak ones who are jealous, definitely not." Bellingham smiled at Håland, "But there are some good guys, too, it depends."
Håland shrugged and said nothing. He took the wooden skewer Bellingham handed him and skewered the hare on it. Bellingham brought over several jars. Håland sniffed them, looking to Bellingham, "Salt and spices?"
"I've got plenty here." Bellingham looked a little smug.
"So can I come to you for all future roasts?"
"Anytime."
And the surprise seemed to go far beyond that, after a while Bellingham took a barrel of mead from the cellar. Håland looked at Bellingham in astonishment, "Is it in here itself before or ......"
"The Boneless gave me that." Bellingham said, "Every time he levied supplies and loots, he let me pick some away first."
Håland couldn't help but think of how Ødegaard had explained Belingham's identity to him earlier. But feeling as if it would be presumptuous to ask Bellingham directly, he put it another way and said to him, "It seems The Boneless is treating you quite well."
"He's treating his sword well." Bellingham said as he spun the meat skewer over the fire, "I can forge a sword for him. This abandoned farm and house, too, he gave it me because I needed a place to set up the sword forging furnace."
"The sword with the power of World Tree?"
Bellingham was stunned for a moment and looked at Håland, "You knew about this? "
"So I've heard." Håland said, "And I heard it was to be made from the wood of the Ash tree ...... Those things could really be put into a furnace and forged into a sword?"
Saying that, he picked up a branch left from the wooden skewer and said to Bellingham, "Then I can also sharpen an Yggdrasil† right now and give it to him."
Bellingham smiled and took the branch back from Håland 's hand, "But Håland, perhaps what you hold in your hand is, indeed, an Ash wood."
Håland smiled back as Bellingham sorted out the wood and said to him, "The Ash wood I used to forge the sword won't burn in the furnace."
"Won't burn?"
"If it burned, then it is not the right material for Yggdrasil and I will have to replace it." Bellingham added after a pause, "Besides, The Boneless doesn't necessarily want this sword as a killing weapon."
"As a crown then?"
"You can put it that way."
Håland laughed and shook his head, "If he didn't have what it takes, a thousand little wooden swords can't make him king of England."
After saying this, he realised that his words seemed a bit inappropriate and added, "However, with his ability, The Boneless actually doesn't need this crown to prove himself.
"The Boneless doesn't want the same thing as others; he is not to ravage England, but to conquer it." Bellingham said, "What he wants is surrender."
"So can you really forge that wooden sword for him?"
"You are doubting me?"
Håland replied immediately, "Not really. Just thought it might be a bit challenging. If you fail in finishing casting Yggdrasil before next spring, will The Boneless do anything to harm you? "
Bellingham didn't seem to expect that this would be Håland’s concern. He looked at Håland for a while, and asked out of nowhere, "You care about this?"
"Absolutely." Håland answered without the least hesitation.
"... Don't worry, it won't happen." Bellingham's smile deepened after hearing this. He said, "I swear by Grealish's hair."
The two men lost track of time that day as they ate their roast meat and drank their wine. By the time Håland sensed that he should no longer disturb his host's rest, he looked out of the window; it was dark outside, snowstorm raging and howling against their cottage.
"It's snowing." The fireside had been cleaned up by them earlier. Håland got up from the low stool to get his cloak, "Then I shall not overstay my welcome." "There's quite some distance to the Norwegians' camp." Bellingham went to the window and opened a narrow slit. The icy blast roaring in. Bellingham hurriedly closed the window and turned to Håland, "Why don't you stay here for the night?"
"Your bed can…"
Before Håland could finish the question, Bellingham had taken down two woolen blankets from the wall. He handed one of them to Håland and said, "I usually sleep on the platform on either side of the hearth. You may choose one tonight."
"......" Håland felt he was overthinking it. He had actually meant to say earlier that he was too big and was afraid that Bellingham would be uncomfortable if they share the bed.
Håland picked the side by the window. Although he was not in his own tent, he slept soundly during the night. He woke up early in the morning to the dawn sunlight and, in a daze, thought that it must be clearing up, so he turned to see the man on the other side of the hearth.
Then two pairs of eyes were aligned. Bellingham suddenly covered his head with blanket as if his secret had been discovered. Håland thought his reaction was downright funny, so he lifted his blanket, went over and patted the person wrapped in the blanket, "Were you looking at me just now?"
"Nope." Then he burst a curse word. After that he was amused by his own words and there was a clear giggle coming under the blanket. Håland suddenly found himself quite fond of hearing Bellingham swear in his dialect. He kept pushing, "I saw it. When I opened my eyes, you were looking at me, weren't you?"
"I was looking at the window." A voice came from the blanket, "That damn sun nearly blind me."
Håland chortled too. He raised his hand to lift Bellingham's blanket, but it was gripped tightly by the person inside. Håland got stubborn too and had to remove the thing Bellingham was using to hide himself. The two horsing around on the platform like two children fighting over a toy, chuckling. Perhaps Håland was indeed stronger than Bellingham, and the person in the blanket struggled a few times before Håland finally lifted the cover.
To see a shine of cold light.
Håland froze for a moment. Because of the fooling around, his whole body was bent over Bellingham. And now the one lying beneath him was actually holding a long sword across the middle of the two men.
A cold light so close that it stings Håland's neck.
Perhaps due to the scuffle earlier, Bellingham's breath was still a little unsteady. With the two men pressed together, Håland could even feel his heaving chest, but the guy's expression was a playful smirk. Indeed, to lay a sword across a Viking warrior's neck would certainly be a blatant provocation.
But Håland was not provoked. Instead, he pressed his body closer as if bewitched.
Seeing that the long sword was about to cut Håland 's neck, Bellingham's expression seemed to change a little. Finally he surrendered first, tucked his sword back, then pushed Håland, who had thrown his whole body on top of him, off the platform like a frightened reindeer and dashed out the door.
Håland looked at the unclosed door, creaking from the cold wind. He felt a slight pain on the side of his neck, so he touched it with his hand and a pale red colour spread across his fingers.
But his heart lightened up.
Because now the Englishman owe him one.
—————TBC——————
* The World Tree in Norse mythology is an Ash tree.
§ A Viking leader. Conquered Ireland based in Dublin.
† Name of the World Tree.