BATTLE
So the day came round for the battle, and Cormac with his brother and
his men rode out to the Holm which is called Leet-holm, a day’s and a
night’s journey for the party; but not so far for Berse and his party.
Berse went off before it was light, and left Stangerd in bed. She
would have nothing to say to him about it, but he kept his temper.
Young Stanvor Slimlegs was astir to give him a horn of hot drink and
to see him ride away. She served him while he was fastening up his
fighting-gear; she brought him Whiting and buckled it upon him; then
his cloak to go over all. There was no speech between them till just
the end, when Berse put his hand on her shoulder and said: “Good girl!”
Stanvor then said, “Good luck to your fighting!”
Berse pulled a wry face, and jerked back his head on his shoulders.
“That is much more than _she_ says.”
Stanvor replied, “She does not know her own fortune. But she will know
it.”
Stangerd, lying in her bed with her hands between her knees, heard them
talking. She ground her teeth together and listened. There was no more
said. “Now they are kissing,” she thought.
But it was not so. Berse left the house without more ado and rode away
down the valley, neither speaking to Stanvor any more, nor looking at
her.
* * * * *
Leet-holm on Whamfirth is a flat meadow beside the river. The fells
stand all round about, so that you scarcely see where is the road to
the sea. It is hard ground at most times of the year, and a very good
battle-ground.
Cormac and his men were first to be there; he was in a bad temper, and
had done, so far, none of the things he had been told to do. He had
girt himself with Shavening outside his clothes, so that the sun had
shone upon the hilt from its first rising. And he had taken off and
left behind him the purse which Skeggi said was to be left in place. He
was, in fact, most perverse.
When the two parties were within hail, Berse rode forward and saluted
Cormac’s company.
“Let me have a word with you, my friends,” he said pleasantly, “and
most of all with you, Cormac.”
Cormac, scowling, said, “We are not come to have words with you.”
“But you shall have them, whether or no,” said Berse; “and I have this
to say. You are a young man and I am not; you have fought little and
I have fought much. You have challenged me to wager-of-battle, which
is a tricky game wherein neither rage, nor spleen, nor youth, nor
muscle will help you so much as a cool head and a knowledge of the
game. These have I. Now, if you will, the battle shall be changed to a
fighting-match. That is, a bout where there are no rules but the rules
of nature. Wild cats can play that game, and moorcocks know it well.
Take it as you will: I mean fairly.”
Thorgils said, “Nothing could be more honourably spoken,” and all his
friends agreed among each other that he was right.
Cormac would not accept of it. He shook off Thorgils and moved apart.
“I will abide by the challenge,” he said. “I will face you in any way,
and match myself with you in everything. If you know the rules, I will
learn them.”
Berse shrugged his shoulder. “Be it so. I have done my best for you.”
* * * * *
Then they prepared the ground according to the laws of wager-of-battle.
They stretched an ox-hide on the ground and pegged it out with
hazel-wands. Upon this they set the champions facing each other; and
then the shield-bearers stood up. In wager-of-battle either man has a
shield-bearer, who defends him with three shields in turn. If these
are cloven without a scratch given or received, the men fight without
shields, save the targets they carry for themselves, until blood falls
upon the hide or one man is driven off it.
* * * * *
Now Cormac forgot all the rest of Skeggi’s instructions. He did
not withdraw himself when he unbuckled Shavening, and instead of
unsheathing him slowly he tried to get him out with a quick jerk.
Shavening would not budge. Cormac, red and furious, took him by the
point of the scabbard, set his feet upon the guards of the hilt and
tore the scabbard off him by main force. Shavening screamed as he came
out. The snake did not show himself at all, but instead a dull mist
settled down upon the blade, and did not all clear off again, running
before the strength of the sun; but some remained in blotches upon him.
Berse said, “I know that sword of old. That’s not the way to treat
him.” His little bright eyes were twinkling, and he twitched his
cheek-bones incessantly. He took his stand upon the hide without
any fuss, walking to it as if he knew the way very well--as indeed
he did--talking as he went to his shield-bearer, and making jokes.
Cormac was serious, and had nothing to say. He felt that all eyes were
on him, to see where and how he failed in the laws of this battle.
But he did not require to be shown where to stand. Thorgils was his
shield-bearer, and the first blow was to Berse.
Whiting seemed to cut leather and wattle like butter. He sliced through
the rim and shore the shield in two halves, but did not touch Cormac,
or drive him back. Then Cormac, in his turn, cut at Berse’s shield.
Shavening would have worked more easily if he had not been so driven.
But as it was, the shield was broken rather than cut, and Shavening
required some force to be withdrawn. Berse blinked, and shook his head
to see that. It was on the tip of his tongue to give advice--but he
stopped himself in time.
The three shields to a man, allowed by the laws, were broken, and then
the champions faced each other with sword and targe. Berse was now
warmed to his work, and the battle-joy shone like points of fire in his
eyes. He meant business now, one could see. Cormac was very still, and
rather grey in the face. He was the first to attack and Berse parried
him, took a step backwards, which brought him to the edge of the hide,
dipped sideways, ran in under cover of his round shield, and made a
feint at Cormac’s left shoulder. Cormac stopped him there, and Berse
swung Whiting round and brought him down like a squall to Cormac’s
right. Cormac got Shavening up in time, and caught Whiting at the point
where the ridge ends and the blade gets thin. Shavening sliced through
Whiting and dispointed him. The point spun in the air like a coin and
struck Cormac on the sword hand. It cut the knuckle to the bone, and
the blood spurted. Men gave a cry, and then it was seen that Shavening
had come down upon Berse’s target and got a jag in himself. Berse had
given back to the edge of the hide, and Cormac was in the act to rush
in upon him when Thorgils lifted his arm and prevented him.
“Bloodshed,” he said. “The fight is done, brother.”
Cormac glared at him, and next at Berse; but now the onlookers were
between the champions. The fight was over, Cormac bleeding freely from
the hand.
Berse was wiping the sweat from his face. “I’m shorter in the wind than
I was,” he said to his friends. “If Cormac were not in such a rage, he
would have done better. As it is, he has done well.”
“He’ll not be satisfied with this,” a man said.
“He’ll have to pay the blood-money,” said Berse.
* * * * *
Cormac was not at all satisfied. “Does he call that victory? A scratch
from a broken sword-point? Can he do no better? Let him get a sword
from his kindred and meet me again. I have one hand left.” He was
talking wildly.
Presently Berse pushed through the crowd and came to him.
“I claim the ransom,” he said. “You did well, Cormac; but I bled you.”
“You shall be paid,” said Cormac; “but this is not the end.”
“It is, for me,” Berse said. “Now you have a nasty jag in the hand--no
fault of yours, but pure misfortune--and you have far to ride. Now,
will you come home with me and get it dressed there? Stangerd shall see
to you. I promise you that.”
Cormac shook the blood from his hand. “Do you think that I will see
my love in your house, and the bed wherein you lie? I would bleed to
death before I saw it. Get you gone with your broken sword, and find
you another. There is no end to the strife between us. You have stolen
my love, and every hour that you spend with her is horrible to me. For
every hour of it you shall pay me back.”
“You are talking wildly,” said Berse. “But I see that you would take
anything amiss. Even if she came to you now you would revile her for
the deed. We had better part now; but I wish you well--and more sense.”
So they parted.