near burst his gut. “What, sleep with my daughters, is that all you wanted? Why didn’t you ask me? I’ll fix it tonight.”
‘We did it in style with the horse and the cockerel, with priest and with fire, corn mother and knife. Fenris no more raids thelands of the Asers, we pay him a pension, he stays at home. But I have a wife now, down there with the Quadi, and four healthy sons, one each time I go home.’
In the pandemonium that followed, Tyr came and sat down beside me.
‘I always do this some time on the trip,’ he told me in a confidential way, while a Vandal came round and poured beer for the pair of us. ‘No, no,
you
don’t pay here. I take half the profit on the beer sales, and a show like this always improves the trade.’
There were crowds of men around the beer counter, where the Vandals had effectively put up the price by simply not filling the horns so full.
Tyr went on:
‘If things are flat tomorrow night, I’ll do ‘How the Ash became the World Tree’, profitable that one, I can manage five toasts in it. The night after, I’ve got something I’ve been working on for some time, about Loki and a horse, rather indecent, but quite funny. The next night, Asgard.’
Tyr never asked me anything, who I was or where I came from, he just accepted me as someone who had a right to be there.
The night before the packtrain reached Asgard, I said good-bye to the Saxons. They all urged me to come out to the west and visit them in their islands and marshes.
‘You shall have the best seat in the hall, and the saltiest of the salt fish to make you want to drink more of our beer, the finest beer in all Germany,’ said Cutha, ‘and if I am out on the roads, as well I may be, mention my name to the King, or better, to the Queen.’
‘Aye, better to the Queen,’ they all said, and laughed; ‘better to the Queen.’
11
The next day, as we rode through the pinewoods, I kept changing my place in the packtrain, and cutting across corners, both ways, through the trees, so that no one could say, ‘I was the last to see him, and it was there.’
Late in the afternoon I slipped into the wood, and they did not see me go. I found a little hollow where I might sleep, fasting for I came to the judgement time of my life. But the white mare, that Loki gave me, I hobbled and turned out to graze, for she had taken no vow.
But how, unless Apollo watched and counted the days, did I choose, for that Night-Before-Asgard, the night of the Summer Solstice? All across the fields beyond the forest the fires burned, and men and girls leaped the flames till dawn.
An hour after dawn, when I knew the Saxons would be well out on the road again, I rode out of the forest. First I came to the Palisade by the trail, empty now in the morning, except for the Vandals lounging by the gate. And I knew that was not Asgard. And I turned north, at a fork, and in a hundred paces I came out of the scrub to a cluster of houses on the forward face of a ridge. But I knew this was not Asgard.
The path led through the village, past the dirty houses, to the crest of the ridge. Where the path went over the ridge, there was an ash tree on one side, and on the other a Standing Stone, raised by the Men of Old.
I smelt the sea, and that I could see a half mile from the crest. Between the ridge and the sea was a salt marsh. Down from the Standing Stone and across the marsh went a causeway of logs.
In the marsh stood Asgard. The great halls stood above the marsh, on a decking of wood, old and dry, but covered with clay that it might not burn. And this decking was carried on piles that lifted it twice the height of a man above the reeds and the brackish water. No man could come at Asgard, except along the causeway from the land, or along the jetties from the sea. Around the decking went a palisade of tarred wood. The marsh was too deep for a man to wade, and too shallow and full of reeds for a boat. No man came into Asgard unless he were
‘We did it in style with the horse and the cockerel, with priest and with fire, corn mother and knife. Fenris no more raids thelands of the Asers, we pay him a pension, he stays at home. But I have a wife now, down there with the Quadi, and four healthy sons, one each time I go home.’
In the pandemonium that followed, Tyr came and sat down beside me.
‘I always do this some time on the trip,’ he told me in a confidential way, while a Vandal came round and poured beer for the pair of us. ‘No, no,
you
don’t pay here. I take half the profit on the beer sales, and a show like this always improves the trade.’
There were crowds of men around the beer counter, where the Vandals had effectively put up the price by simply not filling the horns so full.
Tyr went on:
‘If things are flat tomorrow night, I’ll do ‘How the Ash became the World Tree’, profitable that one, I can manage five toasts in it. The night after, I’ve got something I’ve been working on for some time, about Loki and a horse, rather indecent, but quite funny. The next night, Asgard.’
Tyr never asked me anything, who I was or where I came from, he just accepted me as someone who had a right to be there.
The night before the packtrain reached Asgard, I said good-bye to the Saxons. They all urged me to come out to the west and visit them in their islands and marshes.
‘You shall have the best seat in the hall, and the saltiest of the salt fish to make you want to drink more of our beer, the finest beer in all Germany,’ said Cutha, ‘and if I am out on the roads, as well I may be, mention my name to the King, or better, to the Queen.’
‘Aye, better to the Queen,’ they all said, and laughed; ‘better to the Queen.’
11
The next day, as we rode through the pinewoods, I kept changing my place in the packtrain, and cutting across corners, both ways, through the trees, so that no one could say, ‘I was the last to see him, and it was there.’
Late in the afternoon I slipped into the wood, and they did not see me go. I found a little hollow where I might sleep, fasting for I came to the judgement time of my life. But the white mare, that Loki gave me, I hobbled and turned out to graze, for she had taken no vow.
But how, unless Apollo watched and counted the days, did I choose, for that Night-Before-Asgard, the night of the Summer Solstice? All across the fields beyond the forest the fires burned, and men and girls leaped the flames till dawn.
An hour after dawn, when I knew the Saxons would be well out on the road again, I rode out of the forest. First I came to the Palisade by the trail, empty now in the morning, except for the Vandals lounging by the gate. And I knew that was not Asgard. And I turned north, at a fork, and in a hundred paces I came out of the scrub to a cluster of houses on the forward face of a ridge. But I knew this was not Asgard.
The path led through the village, past the dirty houses, to the crest of the ridge. Where the path went over the ridge, there was an ash tree on one side, and on the other a Standing Stone, raised by the Men of Old.
I smelt the sea, and that I could see a half mile from the crest. Between the ridge and the sea was a salt marsh. Down from the Standing Stone and across the marsh went a causeway of logs.
In the marsh stood Asgard. The great halls stood above the marsh, on a decking of wood, old and dry, but covered with clay that it might not burn. And this decking was carried on piles that lifted it twice the height of a man above the reeds and the brackish water. No man could come at Asgard, except along the causeway from the land, or along the jetties from the sea. Around the decking went a palisade of tarred wood. The marsh was too deep for a man to wade, and too shallow and full of reeds for a boat. No man came into Asgard unless he were
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