Read Online Odin’s Child by Bruce MacBain - Free Book Online

expected. But has Strife-Hrut, to our knowledge, ever bothered to deny a killing before, even a cowardly one like this? Did he not brag all over the district when he burnt up Illugi the Silent in his house, though women and children died in that fire? And then there’s the matter of Brand andMord the next day—as young Odd has just been good enough to remind us—miles from home with only a couple of hirelings for protection? Men who are conscious of provoking a feud are surely more careful than that.”
    Gunnar shot me a worried look.
    â€œNo, my friends,” Hoskuld summed up, “it just won’t wash.”
    â€œWho, then, Uncle?” asked Gunnar angrily.
    â€œUpon my soul, nephew, the countryside is full of wandering ruffians. Things like this happen every day. You would have considered it yourselves if you hadn’t let this fellow Hrut prey on your minds so.”
    â€œBut slaughtering the sheep?” I said. “That was no part of a casual rape and killing.”
    Yes, Hoskuld conceded, there was that. We might never know for sure. But it didn’t signify against all the rest, and no jury, he pronounced with finality, would believe our charge.
    We sank down, crushed, stunned. My beautiful verses lay in ruins.
    â€œCome, come,” he said with a touch of impatience, “it’s a lawyer’s job to bring out the facts of your case, even those you’d rather not hear.”
    My father, who had not said a word up until now, looked up suddenly from his whittling and said, “Brother-in-law, you have spoken my very own thoughts. No doubt they will get a better hearing from your lips than from mine.” There was malice in his eyes.
    â€œThorvald,” cried Hoskuld with feigned delight, “you’ve decided to add your voice to our deliberations. I am relieved. I address myself to you, then, as head of the family.” How slyly he said it; it hadn’t taken him long to see how matters really stood between my parents.
    â€œLet us come down to cases. Anyone who goes up against Strife-Hrut Ivarsson isn’t likely to wear out many new shirts, as the saying goes, unless he’s willing to make some slight compromises with his honor. Well now, what is our situation? For the murder of his son and the other fellow, Hrut can demand six marks of silver in blood money. A large sum, no doubt, but it would be the easiest way out for you, Thorvald. I, of course, am ready to put at your disposal….”
    â€œHe doesn’t want my silver, you fool. He wants my sons!”
    This outburst brought no change in Hoskuld’s expression, except a slight paling around the nostrils. “Yes, quite. Outlawry. Well, he has the right.”
    â€œOutlawry,” echoed Jorunn, seizing her brother’s arm in both herhands. “But only for three years, is it not, brother?”
    â€œThat is the lesser outlawry, my dear, awarded for justifiable homicide. But if the jurors believe Odd’s assault on Brand was unprovoked, the plaintiff can demand outlawry for life against both brothers—permanent exile, never to see Iceland again under pain of death.”
    â€œAnd,” added Thorvald grimly, “if they haven’t left the country within two weeks after the verdict, the law allows Hrut to kill us all and seize our land for damages. And that, my dear wife,”—he mimicked her brother’s patronizing tone of voice—“that is why he drags us to the Althing. Strife-Hrut will be well repaid for the death of his worthless son by the time he’s done with us.”
    My mother’s shoulders sagged. She looked helplessly from one man to the other.
    â€œBut,” said Hoskuld, “all is not lost. What are lawyers for? Evidence and argument aren’t everything. Dear me, no. Iceland’s laws are complicated and deep—like your poetry, young Odd. There’s always an advantage for the man who knows where to look.