somewhat awkward to work with—then with Cullain working on one side, and I the other, we slit the skin down the neck and chest and along each leg, and began working the hide loose from the body. Spreading the flayed hide out on the ground, bloody side up, we used it as a working surface to cut the carcass into sections on.
By now both ships were tented. Most of the crew members who'd help set the shelters came ashore, and having nothing better to do, several gathered around where we were working, to watch. Torvald was among them, as were two brothers named Bjorgolf and Bryngolf, who rowed in the Gull 's bow. Hastein's men called them the ravens, perhaps because both had coal-black hair and beards, or possibly because they were twins, and looked so much alike it was difficult to tell them apart. Like Storolf, they had remained behind in Jutland to guard Hastein's lands during the Frankia campaign, and had only joined the Gull 's crew on our return to Denmark, to replace men lost fighting the Franks.
"I want all of the meat cut off of the bones," Cullain told me. "All that we can. We will cut it into small pieces, like this," he added, making a circle with his thumb and finger to show me. "We are starting this stew late in the day, and will need it to cook as quickly as possible."
We had already cut all of the muscles off of the neck, and had separated the front and rear legs from the carcass. Storolf and Tore began cutting the large sections of muscle from the neck into small chunks, as Cullain had instructed, adding them by handfuls to the cauldrons.
Cullain was using a knife to separate the sections of muscle from one of the rear legs and free them from the bone, tossing the bloody pieces of meat into a heap on a clear area of the hide as he cut them free. I had skinned and butchered many beasts while a thrall, and had come to think of myself as more adept than most at the task. But watching the speed with which Cullain turned the carcass of the ram into cleanly trimmed portions of meat, with quick cuts of the small, sharp knife he wielded and no wasted motion made me feel clumsy and unskilled.
I began using my small-axe to cut along the spine on either side, chopping the ribs loose. "Those," Cullain told me, "the ribs—we will have to just cut them into sections, and throw them into the pot bones and all."
"What will you do with the backbone?" Bjorgolf asked.
Cullain glanced up at him. "I have no plans for it."
Bjorgolf glanced at his brother, who nodded. "May we have it?" he said. "We'll dig a trench on the beach, in the shallows, and leave the backbone in the bottom. Perhaps it will catch us some crabs, or maybe even a halibut."
Cullain shrugged. I had finished chopping through the ribs. Taking his shrug as a yes, I held up the bloody backbone, the ram's head still attached.
"Not the head," Torvald told me. "Cut it off and give it to me. This ram was a sacrifice. It belongs to the gods. It is fitting that we honor the ram and the sacrifice by eating its meat. But to use its head as bait for crabs might offend the gods."
I used the edge of my small-axe to slice around the spine, between two bones in the neck, then twisted the head, breaking it free.
"What will you do with it?" I asked, as I passed the ram's head to Torvald.
"I will make a cairn of stones at the water's edge and place the head upon it, and leave it there for the gods."
"And crabs will still eat it, but we will not catch the crabs," Bjorgolf muttered.
I was surprised. Torvald had never struck me as a religious man. Had the earlier talk of omens and death unnerved him, too, despite his show of bravado?
* * *
Darkness fell while the stew was cooking. Once the vegetables began to show signs of softening, Cullain and Regin had added handfuls of barley to the pots, to thicken the contents and add heartiness. While we waited, Hastein, Hrodgar and Stig spread out a thick bearskin on the beach to sit on, and built a small fire in front of
By now both ships were tented. Most of the crew members who'd help set the shelters came ashore, and having nothing better to do, several gathered around where we were working, to watch. Torvald was among them, as were two brothers named Bjorgolf and Bryngolf, who rowed in the Gull 's bow. Hastein's men called them the ravens, perhaps because both had coal-black hair and beards, or possibly because they were twins, and looked so much alike it was difficult to tell them apart. Like Storolf, they had remained behind in Jutland to guard Hastein's lands during the Frankia campaign, and had only joined the Gull 's crew on our return to Denmark, to replace men lost fighting the Franks.
"I want all of the meat cut off of the bones," Cullain told me. "All that we can. We will cut it into small pieces, like this," he added, making a circle with his thumb and finger to show me. "We are starting this stew late in the day, and will need it to cook as quickly as possible."
We had already cut all of the muscles off of the neck, and had separated the front and rear legs from the carcass. Storolf and Tore began cutting the large sections of muscle from the neck into small chunks, as Cullain had instructed, adding them by handfuls to the cauldrons.
Cullain was using a knife to separate the sections of muscle from one of the rear legs and free them from the bone, tossing the bloody pieces of meat into a heap on a clear area of the hide as he cut them free. I had skinned and butchered many beasts while a thrall, and had come to think of myself as more adept than most at the task. But watching the speed with which Cullain turned the carcass of the ram into cleanly trimmed portions of meat, with quick cuts of the small, sharp knife he wielded and no wasted motion made me feel clumsy and unskilled.
I began using my small-axe to cut along the spine on either side, chopping the ribs loose. "Those," Cullain told me, "the ribs—we will have to just cut them into sections, and throw them into the pot bones and all."
"What will you do with the backbone?" Bjorgolf asked.
Cullain glanced up at him. "I have no plans for it."
Bjorgolf glanced at his brother, who nodded. "May we have it?" he said. "We'll dig a trench on the beach, in the shallows, and leave the backbone in the bottom. Perhaps it will catch us some crabs, or maybe even a halibut."
Cullain shrugged. I had finished chopping through the ribs. Taking his shrug as a yes, I held up the bloody backbone, the ram's head still attached.
"Not the head," Torvald told me. "Cut it off and give it to me. This ram was a sacrifice. It belongs to the gods. It is fitting that we honor the ram and the sacrifice by eating its meat. But to use its head as bait for crabs might offend the gods."
I used the edge of my small-axe to slice around the spine, between two bones in the neck, then twisted the head, breaking it free.
"What will you do with it?" I asked, as I passed the ram's head to Torvald.
"I will make a cairn of stones at the water's edge and place the head upon it, and leave it there for the gods."
"And crabs will still eat it, but we will not catch the crabs," Bjorgolf muttered.
I was surprised. Torvald had never struck me as a religious man. Had the earlier talk of omens and death unnerved him, too, despite his show of bravado?
* * *
Darkness fell while the stew was cooking. Once the vegetables began to show signs of softening, Cullain and Regin had added handfuls of barley to the pots, to thicken the contents and add heartiness. While we waited, Hastein, Hrodgar and Stig spread out a thick bearskin on the beach to sit on, and built a small fire in front of
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