Read Online Birth Of the Kingdom (2010) by Jan Guillou - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Jan Guillou
Ads: Link
the sagas, began drinking up the whole ocean when he wanted to impress the giants. Unfortunately, this was only the first of many declaimed verses, and Sir Arn did not think he could translate all of them, since it grew harder both to hear and to understand what was said.
More ale was brought in by young women scampering lightly on bare feet, and the platters of meat, fish, bread, and vegetables were piled up like an enemy army on the huge longtable. The Wachtian brothers each fell at once upon a suckling pig, the big monk and the seaman Tanguy took pieces from one of the steaming salmon that were carried in on planks. The English archers loaded up huge pieces of calf shank, while Sir Arn took a modest piece of salmon. With his long sharp dagger he also sliced a chunk out of the cheek of one of the pig heads that was suddenly plopped down before the eyes of the Wachtian brothers.
At first they both stared at the pig head in horror; it was pointing its snout straight at them. Jacob shrank backinvoluntarily, but Marcus leaned forward on his elbows and began to converse with the pig, so that everyone nearby who understood Frankish was soon convulsed in laughter.
He said that he presumed Sir Swine belonged in this country, not in Outremer, which seemed hardly conceivable. But it was in truth better to end up with Armenian brothers than it would have been out in the tents, where the danger was great that Sir Swine would not have been met with the greatest courtesy.
At the thought of what would have happened if this pig head had been borne out to the Muslims, Marcus and Jacob doubled over laughing. Soon the Frankish speakers laughed all the harder when the call to prayer was heard coming from the direction of the tents, since the sun went down very late in this strange land. Sir Arn also smiled a bit at the thought of a pig head being served in the midst of the Muslim evening prayers, but he simply gave a dismissive wave of the hand when his brother asked what was so funny.
‘God is grea-ea-eat,’ snorted Marcus in Arabic and raised his wine glass to Sir Arn, but a new fit of laughter caught in his throat and he spurted wine all over his host, who calmly poured him some more.
It was not long before Sir Arn and the woman next to him carefully pushed away their plates, wiped off their daggers, and stuck them in their belts. Sir Arn’s brother ate a couple of more huge pieces of meat before he did the same. Then all three in the high seat devoted themselves to drinking; two of them did so quietly while the third drank like the warriors, the Norwegian, and the two English archers John Strongbow and Athelsten Crossbow, who both showed they could drink ale at the same pace as the barbarians.
The clamour rose higher and higher. The Englishmen andthe Norwegian were not too proud to move from their places to join the Nordic warriors, and there a mighty battle of honour commenced, to see who could empty an entire tankard of ale the fastest without removing it from his lips. It appeared that the Norwegian and the Englishmen acquitted themselves well in this Nordic contest. Arn leaned over to his four remaining Frankish-speaking guests and explained that it was good for their honour that at least some of the men from Outremer could do well in this strange competition. As he explained, Nordic men esteemed the ability to drink themselves rapidly senseless almost as much as the ability to handle sword and shield. Why this was so, he could not explain, but merely shrugged his shoulders as if at some mystery that was impossible to comprehend.
When the first man tumbled to the floor, vomiting, the hostess got up with a smile and without exaggerated haste. She took her leave of Sir Arn, whom she kissed on the forehead to his obvious embarrassment, and that of his brother and the Frankish-speaking guests, who by this time were the only ones except for the host and hostess who were in any condition to reply when spoken to.
Sir Arn then
More ale was brought in by young women scampering lightly on bare feet, and the platters of meat, fish, bread, and vegetables were piled up like an enemy army on the huge longtable. The Wachtian brothers each fell at once upon a suckling pig, the big monk and the seaman Tanguy took pieces from one of the steaming salmon that were carried in on planks. The English archers loaded up huge pieces of calf shank, while Sir Arn took a modest piece of salmon. With his long sharp dagger he also sliced a chunk out of the cheek of one of the pig heads that was suddenly plopped down before the eyes of the Wachtian brothers.
At first they both stared at the pig head in horror; it was pointing its snout straight at them. Jacob shrank backinvoluntarily, but Marcus leaned forward on his elbows and began to converse with the pig, so that everyone nearby who understood Frankish was soon convulsed in laughter.
He said that he presumed Sir Swine belonged in this country, not in Outremer, which seemed hardly conceivable. But it was in truth better to end up with Armenian brothers than it would have been out in the tents, where the danger was great that Sir Swine would not have been met with the greatest courtesy.
At the thought of what would have happened if this pig head had been borne out to the Muslims, Marcus and Jacob doubled over laughing. Soon the Frankish speakers laughed all the harder when the call to prayer was heard coming from the direction of the tents, since the sun went down very late in this strange land. Sir Arn also smiled a bit at the thought of a pig head being served in the midst of the Muslim evening prayers, but he simply gave a dismissive wave of the hand when his brother asked what was so funny.
‘God is grea-ea-eat,’ snorted Marcus in Arabic and raised his wine glass to Sir Arn, but a new fit of laughter caught in his throat and he spurted wine all over his host, who calmly poured him some more.
It was not long before Sir Arn and the woman next to him carefully pushed away their plates, wiped off their daggers, and stuck them in their belts. Sir Arn’s brother ate a couple of more huge pieces of meat before he did the same. Then all three in the high seat devoted themselves to drinking; two of them did so quietly while the third drank like the warriors, the Norwegian, and the two English archers John Strongbow and Athelsten Crossbow, who both showed they could drink ale at the same pace as the barbarians.
The clamour rose higher and higher. The Englishmen andthe Norwegian were not too proud to move from their places to join the Nordic warriors, and there a mighty battle of honour commenced, to see who could empty an entire tankard of ale the fastest without removing it from his lips. It appeared that the Norwegian and the Englishmen acquitted themselves well in this Nordic contest. Arn leaned over to his four remaining Frankish-speaking guests and explained that it was good for their honour that at least some of the men from Outremer could do well in this strange competition. As he explained, Nordic men esteemed the ability to drink themselves rapidly senseless almost as much as the ability to handle sword and shield. Why this was so, he could not explain, but merely shrugged his shoulders as if at some mystery that was impossible to comprehend.
When the first man tumbled to the floor, vomiting, the hostess got up with a smile and without exaggerated haste. She took her leave of Sir Arn, whom she kissed on the forehead to his obvious embarrassment, and that of his brother and the Frankish-speaking guests, who by this time were the only ones except for the host and hostess who were in any condition to reply when spoken to.
Sir Arn then
Similar Books
