Later, Gunnolf encouraged the men in games of chance and threw down a challenge. “Your hand, brother,” he proclaimed, resting his elbow upon the table, “And we shall test your prowess.” Filled already to the brim with ale, he slurred his words.
Eirik was no better, and the result was part comical, as each vowed to prove the superiority of their arm. Yet, there was an edge to the jarl’s sport. With sleeves pushed to their elbows, laying bare their corded arms, it was clear that the contest was in earnest, at least on Gunnolf’s part. His teeth clenched in grim determination as they pushed back and forth. Bringing Eirik’s fist to the wood, Gunnolf gave a shout of triumph and there was a wildness in his eyes.
While his men cheered his conquest, I thought their hails lacked the fervour of those Eirik had received during the harvest wrestling tournament.
Asta kissed her husband’s forehead then excused herself, pleading her condition.
“Brother, you have the better of me,” conceded Eirik, gracious as he always was.
“Come, Faline,” Gunnolf called. He indicated the jug she carried. “Our horns require attention, and you have the means to satisfy us.”
His bawdiness inspired snorts of laughter but I took no pleasure in his lewdness, worrying that Asta may have heard her husband’s remark as she made her retreat.
I knew Faline enjoyed attention and she seemed willing enough to claim Asta’s place at the jarl’s side, even if it were to play the whore rather than the wife. However, it was I Gunnolf looked at as he slapped her rump and drained his cup dry, drawing her to him as she filled it once more. My face must have shown my distaste but he gave no rebuke, surveying me with lazy eyes.
With the drinking of more ale, a round of ribald jokes began and I felt inclined to take my own leave, but Eirik bid me stay and sit on his knee. This I did, though I soon regretted it. He’d drunk more than usual and became lustful before his men, bouncing me harshly upon his lap and reaching beneath my skirts.
He acted towards me almost as he had in the days of our first meeting, in the demeaning fashion of a master commanding his thrall. “Come, wench, you’ll not deny me. You like me well enough in our bed.”
“And in the fields, too,” chimed one of the men, to the guffaws of his neighbours.
Eirik pulled aside the fine linen of my bodice, taking my breast in his hand, for all to see.
“Nay, Eirik,” I declared, endeavouring to release myself. However, even in his cups, he was too strong, grasping me all the tighter as I struggled, taking my nipple in his mouth and laughing at my annoyance.
Seeing the leering grins of those about me, my anger broke. I slapped Eirik’s cheek to make my escape, pulling my clothes to cover myself.
“I’m to bed and you may join me if you wish. If you prefer to sleep on a bench with your ale then stay as you are.”
Helka had sat aside, never being one to interfere in the jests of men, but she rose to my side, adding her voice in berating his lack of care.
Gunnolf howled with mirth, slapping Eirik upon the back, a wicked gleam in his eye. “Best do as you’re bid, little brother, since these women are your masters.” He waggled his little finger. “Perhaps you’ve lost your cock already and had better put on an apron.”
At that, Eirik lurched to his feet and, within three steps, had grasped his axe. Helka reached to detain him but he shrugged her away, eyes suddenly blazing. In undermining Eirik’s masculinity, Gunnolf’s insult was the fiercest any man might suffer.
“What say you?” Eirik roared. “I am man enough for any woman, and none the master of me.”
Gunnolf rose to his feet at that.
“None but I,” he snarled. “Remember well that I am master of all Svolvaen and your allegiance is to me.”
The hall fell silent as the words were cast.
“Unless you go to chop wood, you’d best set aside your axe.” Gunnolf’s voice was filled with its own steel.
Eirik lowered his arm. I’d never seen him so, seeming not to know where to look nor what to say. He knelt upon the floor, bowing his head.
“Forgive me, my jarl. In my haste, I did not see the joke. The ale unbridled my temper but my allegiance is yours, as ever.”
Gunnolf reached down and took the axe from Eirik.
“Beware, brother.” He scanned the faces of his men, as if addressing not just Eirik but them all. “Do not allow that temper to be your undoing.”
He ran his thumb across the sharp edge of the weapon.
“To do so will be to find the blade upon your own neck.”
13
