Read Online Heroes of the Valley by Jonathan Stroud - Free Book Online
Authors: Jonathan Stroud
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enclosure the trees gave way to the slope of tumbled Trow stone. They climbed cautiously, feeling their way over the sharp snags of rock hidden among the long dry grasses. Above them rose the blank walls of the outer cottages, windowless and covered with yellow lichen. At the top was a four-foot drop to a back yard of log stacks drying under awnings. Halli jumped to the slabs; he turned to help Aud, only to find she had already leaped down beside him.
'That's a ropy wall,' she said. 'A Trow with one leg could hop up backwards.'
'It was high in Svein's day,' Halli said shortly. 'No need now, is there?'
'At Arne's House the wall has been levelled. The buildings lie within gardens.'
'What sort of a man was Arne?' Halli asked as they walked up between the stables. From the central yard came the escalating murmur of voices, busyness, the sweet-sour mingling of bread and ale. 'He doesn't figure much in the stories.'
Aud glanced at him. 'Why do you say that? He is the hero of the central cycle!'
Halli's brow corrugated. 'Of some lesser tales, maybe.'
'Of all the finest exploits! Who else stole the Trow king's treasure? Who else killed Flori's brothers armed only with a pruning knife? Who else, above all, mustered the Founders together on Battle Rock?'
'What?' Halli stopped dead in his tracks. 'Why, that was Svein!'
Aud Ulfar's-daughter gave a tinkling laugh. 'You are a great wit, Halli. You make me smile. Well, perhaps your tellers have it so.'
A certain condescension had reappeared in her tone. Halli was irritated; he spoke hotly. 'If what you say is true, if Arne was so pre-eminent a figure, why then is Svein's House the greatest in the valley?'
They had passed the stables and Svein's hall, and were at the edge of the central yard. Silver and black flags flicked high above. The yard was thick with people carrying trays and tankards and rolling kegs to and fro. The House was busier than he had ever seen it. Aud looked at it for a moment, then turned to him. Her mouth smiled, but her eyes were hot and angry. 'Unlike you,' she said, 'I have travelled more than two paces from my door. I can tell you that Arne's House is twice the size of Svein's, and Arne's is small compared to some. Don't speak of what you don't know.'
Halli bit his lip; to his surprise her anger wounded him. 'I'm sorry,' he faltered. 'I spoke with a fool's tongue. I was . . . wrong to criticize your House and Founder. I would be grateful if you do not think the worse of me.'
Hesitating, he forced himself to meet her gaze. The anger was still there, but Halli was relieved to see amusement too, unforced, unbitter. 'That's all right,' Aud said suddenly. 'I don't really care. All this business about Houses is rubbish when you look at it. Just based on silly stories. I don't believe any of it.'
Halli stared. 'What stories?'
'All that stuff about the heroes. Their great adventures.'
'You don't believe it?'
Her laugh again. 'No.'
'But how else were the Trows—?'
'Oh, I don't believe in them either. It's all— Oh, no. That's all I need.'
On the margins of the crowd a knot of youths strode towards them, resplendent in tunics of the brightest orange-red. Halli, despite his ignorance, knew immediately they were from far down-valley. All had his mother's colouring: pink-faced, blue-eyed, with hair the colour of sandstone. Young as they were – mid-teens, he guessed, the cusp of manhood – one or two were attempting beards, shaved shorter even than his father's style. Their hair was drawn back and tied tight behind their skulls with circlets of polished bronze. It was a peculiar look, and Halli thought it unmanly. Their clothes were richly made, with fine brocade about the sleeves and collars.
The leader, the tallest boy, the blondest, with the squarest jaw, bowed his head. 'Aud Ulfar's-daughter.'
She inclined her head slowly in response. 'Ragnar Hakonsson.'
'I didn't expect to find you up here, associating with the retainers of Svein's House.' His
'That's a ropy wall,' she said. 'A Trow with one leg could hop up backwards.'
'It was high in Svein's day,' Halli said shortly. 'No need now, is there?'
'At Arne's House the wall has been levelled. The buildings lie within gardens.'
'What sort of a man was Arne?' Halli asked as they walked up between the stables. From the central yard came the escalating murmur of voices, busyness, the sweet-sour mingling of bread and ale. 'He doesn't figure much in the stories.'
Aud glanced at him. 'Why do you say that? He is the hero of the central cycle!'
Halli's brow corrugated. 'Of some lesser tales, maybe.'
'Of all the finest exploits! Who else stole the Trow king's treasure? Who else killed Flori's brothers armed only with a pruning knife? Who else, above all, mustered the Founders together on Battle Rock?'
'What?' Halli stopped dead in his tracks. 'Why, that was Svein!'
Aud Ulfar's-daughter gave a tinkling laugh. 'You are a great wit, Halli. You make me smile. Well, perhaps your tellers have it so.'
A certain condescension had reappeared in her tone. Halli was irritated; he spoke hotly. 'If what you say is true, if Arne was so pre-eminent a figure, why then is Svein's House the greatest in the valley?'
They had passed the stables and Svein's hall, and were at the edge of the central yard. Silver and black flags flicked high above. The yard was thick with people carrying trays and tankards and rolling kegs to and fro. The House was busier than he had ever seen it. Aud looked at it for a moment, then turned to him. Her mouth smiled, but her eyes were hot and angry. 'Unlike you,' she said, 'I have travelled more than two paces from my door. I can tell you that Arne's House is twice the size of Svein's, and Arne's is small compared to some. Don't speak of what you don't know.'
Halli bit his lip; to his surprise her anger wounded him. 'I'm sorry,' he faltered. 'I spoke with a fool's tongue. I was . . . wrong to criticize your House and Founder. I would be grateful if you do not think the worse of me.'
Hesitating, he forced himself to meet her gaze. The anger was still there, but Halli was relieved to see amusement too, unforced, unbitter. 'That's all right,' Aud said suddenly. 'I don't really care. All this business about Houses is rubbish when you look at it. Just based on silly stories. I don't believe any of it.'
Halli stared. 'What stories?'
'All that stuff about the heroes. Their great adventures.'
'You don't believe it?'
Her laugh again. 'No.'
'But how else were the Trows—?'
'Oh, I don't believe in them either. It's all— Oh, no. That's all I need.'
On the margins of the crowd a knot of youths strode towards them, resplendent in tunics of the brightest orange-red. Halli, despite his ignorance, knew immediately they were from far down-valley. All had his mother's colouring: pink-faced, blue-eyed, with hair the colour of sandstone. Young as they were – mid-teens, he guessed, the cusp of manhood – one or two were attempting beards, shaved shorter even than his father's style. Their hair was drawn back and tied tight behind their skulls with circlets of polished bronze. It was a peculiar look, and Halli thought it unmanly. Their clothes were richly made, with fine brocade about the sleeves and collars.
The leader, the tallest boy, the blondest, with the squarest jaw, bowed his head. 'Aud Ulfar's-daughter.'
She inclined her head slowly in response. 'Ragnar Hakonsson.'
'I didn't expect to find you up here, associating with the retainers of Svein's House.' His
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