AHMM, December 2009 Read Online Free Page B

died. That one, too, had kept his weapon hidden. “There might be lawsuits that end in trouble,” said Bjorn. He looked keenly into Colm's face. “We may need every man."
    So Bjorn considered him a man, did he? Man enough to ride and fight! Colm scented freedom in his future, closer now, like a prey he was hunting. The scramasax blade was sharp, and Colm wrapped a piece of leather around it before putting the knife in his waistband under his shirt where it was not so obvious—though any searching glance would discover it through the threadbare material.
    Packs of provisions were slung over the horses, and wagons were loaded with the cloth and poles that would be used to construct the tent pavilions that would house Bjorn's contingent. Some women rode on the wagons, like Aud, Bjorn's wife—she was visibly ill, losing weight daily, her eyes sinking into her skull. Some women walked, like Aud's slave Gwyneth, attentive to her mistress, who kept pace with the wagon. Seeing Gwyneth lifted Colm's heart and when she flashed a bright smile his way, it filled with song like a tree full of birds.
    The group made its way down the valley alongside a stream that, here, was easily crossed. Farther along, the stream joined with others to become a river. Thorolf's farm lay near the river floodplain and his followers, like Bjorn, tended to live on the upland tributaries. Behind him, in the distance, Colm could see the mountain slope where his sheep were grazing. They had come to the end of Bjorn's holding. There was good land a mile or so across the stream but no one farmed it. Years past, before Bjorn came to Iceland, someone had lived there, but one winter the farmer and his family had disappeared. Some thought they had gotten lost out in a snowstorm, first one, then those who had gone searching. But others said that evil beings—trolls or water-walkers—had taken them. People avoided the place, but sooner or later someone would move in. Good land was scarce.
    It was late in the afternoon when they finally reached Thorolf's farm. Slaves unpacked the horses and drove them into the near field to graze. The women went into the longhall to prepare a meal for the travelers. Colm threw some harness and horse-gear across his shoulders and carried it into a turf outbuilding.
    It was a moment before Colm's eyes adjusted to the darkness inside, and he caught only the motion of the two white faces at the other end of the building. Two people, trying to duck out of sight, but there was nowhere to hide. One was Gerda, Thorolf's daughter, and Colm recognized the other as Gunnlaug, a young farmer. The way that they jumped apart was evidence that they did not want to be seen together. And no wonder! Gerda was betrothed to another young man, Halldor, son of Magnus, an important follower of Thorolf.
    Colm turned to the wall and hung up the harness. Then he turned away to the door without looking back toward Gerda and Gunnlaug. Some things were better for a slave not to see.
    Outside, a group of men were gathered in the sunlight. Magnus, Thorolf, and Bjorn were at its center. Colm edged up to hear what was going on. Magnus was an excitable man and he shouted and waved his arms about. Thorolf listened gravely, nodding from time to time. Bjorn stood behind Thorolf, nodding when his chieftain did. It took a moment for Colm to understand why Magnus was so worked up: his son, Halldor, had been killed by Gunnlaug. The two had quarreled at the Spring Sacrifice. Gunnlaug had shoved Halldor. There was no fighting, then. But after letting the matter fester for a few weeks, Halldor had gone over to Gunnlaug's farm to settle things. Instead, Halldor's body lay near Gunnlaug's doorway and Gunnlaug had disappeared.
    Colm caught a movement from the corner of his eye. Gerda was slipping past the crowd of men. She threw one beseeching glance at Colm, then joined the women at the longhall. Colm thought of Gunnlaug in the outbuilding, waiting for a chance to get away. One