XIX
Now the story will turn to Karvalo’s sons, three of whom survived long enough to be at all notable, though he only cared to cherish two. The elder of them was Essero, known as Horn-helm after a fetching helmet he liked to wear, topped with a pair of decorative horns. He was a big fellow, just like his father, though he was not yet so heavy with age.
Essero was not at Pearmol when Thalo arrived, having set out on a marital tour a year prior. With Karvalo at his side, eager to make a good match for his son, Essero visited a selection of the lordships to find himself a wife of noble stock. When they were staying for a while with Afdea, Lord of Awlteyr, Essero spotted a certain red-headed young woman during the winter lights. He thought she looked quite something indeed, so he strode over to introduce himself.
‘What ho, maiden,’ he said, ‘and good evening! Behold me and behold an impregnable wall of a man!’
The woman was quite alarmed by the sudden appearance of this forceful young man, and she walked away without a word. But Essero, his father’s son, was not one to be shrugged off. He followed her, cornered her in a quiet part of the hall, and forced a conversation as polite as a forced conversation could be. The woman introduced herself as Ernala Seygayonnan, a granddaughter of Seymodo, Lord of Owffek, and the pair got to talking. She said she was only visiting Awlteyr, having come in her uncle Seytrewo’s company.
‘And my earliest memory,’ said Ernala, ‘was watching my parents choke and burn to death in an arson attack, and my sister with them. I alone survived the flames.’
Now Essero had a marvellous stroke of luck. Tactless though his approach had been, it worked well enough, and he and Ernala got on rather well. Over the next month or so, they met one another time and again, until Essero decided to bring the matter to Karvalo. He said he did not want to move on just yet, for he was keen to see where things would go with Ernala, and that he was quite chuffed with the relationship they had fostered.
Karvalo was not so chuffed. During his stay at Awlteyr, he had heard about Ernala and her emerging fling with his son, and the more he learnt about it, the more unsatisfied he became. While she was certainly of lordly bearing, her prospects as the orphaned daughter of a younger sibling were by no means the brightest.
But Essero said, ‘What do her prospects matter next to the staggering heights of mine? If we were to be wed, what is mine would thence be hers, prospects and all.’
Ever the businessman, Karvalo was willing to make certain concessions to keep his sons on side—they were his sons, after all, well trained in all matters of life, and would surely make formidable foes. And as concessions went, a marriage only slightly lacking was by no means the most damaging. He agreed to see how it all panned out and left Awlteyr to get on with other things, leaving Essero behind to woo his girl to his heart’s content.
A little while later, Essero accompanied Ernala on her return to Owffek, where he met her family properly. Upon his arrival, he made a fabulous first impression on Seymodo, her doting grandfather, by strutting into the hall and immediately swishing his hair around with gusto.
‘I like this bloke,’ said Seymodo, swishing his hair in turn, and thus was forged a lifelong friendship.
Essero spent a little over a year with Ernala in Seymodo’s hall, until he received a messenger from his father, who bade him come home.
‘Your noble father bids you come home for the summer feast,’ said the messenger.
‘Whatever is all this about?’ asked Essero. ‘Do they miss me so much so soon? So I would suppose. I imagine that hall is utterly lifeless without old me around making it a pleasant place to be.’
‘If you like. But this is more about your brother. You are to come home in anticipation of his gloried return. He wants you both back together.’
Essero’s brother, the younger of Karvalo’s sons, was called Awldano. He was sometimes known as Awldano Writhe-wrangler, for he had once grappled with a venomous snake and flung it around like a whip, or as Awldano the Bold for much the same reason. He too had recently left home. A few weeks after Karvalo came back from Awlteyr, he went to Awldano and told him he should set out on a marital tour, just as his brother had.
‘And he has found more success than none,’ said Karvalo. ‘I have no doubt we could find you a wife of equal or, preferably, greater nobility.’
Awldano had other ideas.
‘I have no such desire,’ he said, and then he walked away.
Karvalo huffed but said nothing more, not wanting to press the matter. However, he had a dream that night in which the other lords were all jeering at him, mocking his son’s bachelorhood, and saying an unmarried man was as much use as a feather for a knife. He woke up in a fury.
‘What is it, Karvalo?’ asked Seyglena, awoken by his angry jostling.
‘I will not let my good name be dragged through the mud!’
Karvalo leapt out of bed and dressed himself with no further discussion. He went straight to Awldano and shook him awake.
‘Awldano, my beloved son,’ he said. ‘It would be better for everyone if you stopped lollygagging, bucked up a bit, and found yourself a wife.’
‘I understand your concern,’ said Awldano, ‘but the sun has yet to rise.’
‘Then I will give you a second option. A handful of my sheriffs have been short-changing me recently, and our stores have been less happy than I should like. If you will give me no grandchildren, you will get yourself on a ship and give me gold and glory instead.’
Awldano found this option rather more agreeable. To appease his father, he spent some time preparing a pair of ships and planning a voyage, rallied his closest friends, and soon enough, they were all off sailing down past Arlonn and on to Ayslonn. There they terrorised the locals with raiding and looting and the like. The whole campaign went swimmingly, and after a few months spent prowling the coast, they had earnt themselves all the booty they could ask for, not that they did.
The journey home, however, was less successful, and Awldano’s ship was blown off course amid a terrific storm. Once they had completely lost their bearings, Awldano put the ship to shore on the first land they spotted, which turned out to be the western reaches of Frowlonn, across the sea. They quickly saw this as a most fortuitous failure, surely the work of two-handed fate, and began robbing and reaving once again, pillaging for themselves many fine things they might not have found elsewhere.
They also captured an old seaman—a chap called Sorgeo, who had much experience sailing back and forth between Mawon and Frowlonn—and forced him to navigate the way home, threatening to drown him if he refused.
‘I am not fit for sailing right about now,’ said Sorgeo. ‘My gut has been rather disagreeable lately.’
‘I can make it worth your while,’ said Awldano. ‘A favour for a favour.’
‘What sort of favour is it when I have no choice in the matter?’
Awldano was now becoming increasingly worried that he would have to follow through on his threat and drown the man, but it took only a little more knife-waving and sword-fondling for Sorgeo to relent. He agreed to do as they asked and sail them home, and so he did. By the time they were back in Mawon, nearly a year had passed since their departure, and the summer feast was fast approaching.
They first landed at Syarglad, where Awldano picked a pair of men and sent them to Pearmol to inform Karvalo of his impending return. Before he returned himself, however, he had to sort the matter of the old seaman. Sorgeo was not at all happy with how things had gone, and he started making a fuss in the town, demanding to be taken home. Awldano deemed the request fair enough—he had been a valuable navigator, after all—so he spent a while in Syarglad finding a ship to ferry him home.
This all came to nought, however, when Sorgeo, feeling quite crotchety, got himself into a fight with a pair of drunkards. They left him bruised and bleeding on the floor, which made him an easy target for a cloaked mugger who came strolling along shortly thereafter, and he was beaten and left for dead a second time. Yet it was not until a mob of local children came along to kick and stone him that his life finally failed.
When Awldano learnt about this, he set about hunting the criminals, eager to repay Sorgeo however he could. He met mixed success. Although they found the drunkards, clubbed their heads in, and tossed them in the ocean, the cloaked mugger duped them three times before vanishing without a trace, and the gang of children eluded them entirely. Awldano cut his losses there and ruled that Sorgeo had been satisfactorily avenged. After this delay, he gathered his troop and set sail again, homeward bound at last.
* * *
Essero came home to Pearmol the day before the summer feast. On the day of his return, he strutted into the hall, Ernala on his arm, and he said, ‘Rejoice! Rejoice, my venerable kin! Essero is home!’
Karvalo and Seyglena came to the hall to receive him. They took their seats, and then Karvalo arose and welcomed his first of twofold sons. Seyglena did much the same.
‘You noblest man-makers,’ said Essero, ‘how you honour me!’
‘As you honour us,’ said Karvalo. ‘Come forth.’
Essero brought Ernala up onto the platform to sit beside his parents, and there they exchanged their gifts. First, Ernala gave Karvalo a wreath wrought from a gull’s feathers and ornamented in gold.
‘This is a significant gift,’ she said. ‘You see, I have an ancestor who lived long ago—let me tell you about him. He was called Ewge, the son of Gewleyna, and she was the daughter of Bewgana, who was herself the granddaughter of mighty Afflano, about whom many tales are told. Ewge’s unwilling father was the elf Syovo.
‘One day, when Ewge was but a baby, Syovo stole him from his cradle and took him out rowing.
‘“A father and his son,” said Syovo. “The old, cold sea and the dawn’s young sun.”
‘When they were far out to sea, Syovo picked Ewge up and held him out over the water.
‘“Tell me,” he said, “why should I not drown thee here? Give me one good reason, wretched little thing, and perhaps I shall spare thy life.”
‘But Ewge was only a baby, and he could only babble.
‘“Bah bam bum bummer!” said Syovo. “Bah bam bum drown!”
‘And so, he dropped Ewge into the water and rowed away. Ewge rightly should have died that day, but then a strange and spectacular thing occurred. As he cried and splashed in the sea, down from the sky swooped an enormous white gull, cloaked in a veil of mist of all colours, resplendent in the sunlight. The gull took Ewge in its beak and carried him to the shore, where his poor mother knelt in despair. When the gull landed before her and opened its beak, revealing Ewge smiling happily within, she wept tears of joy.
‘“How I thank thee,” she said, “O majestic gull. I am hereby in thy debt. But how is it I can repay thee for this deed? In truth, I know no gift nor honour that would be fair recompense for thy kindness.”
‘At this, the gull spread its wings, threw back its head, and let up a fearsome screech. As it sounded this terrible cry, the veil of mist dispelled, and the gull’s true form was revealed. Before Gewleyna stood the spirit king Ogloa, draped in her cloud-spun silks.
‘“Build here a shrine,” said Ogloa, “and honour my children. This alone I ask of thee. Do this, and they shall ever deliver thy kin of strife.”
‘Then Ogloa kissed baby Ewge on his forehead, and thereby granted him the right to a long life before vanishing into mist once more.
‘Gewleyna did as Ogloa bade and built by the sea a shrine in her honour, and thus was Owffek established, my home and my lineage both.’
Once Ernala had concluded her tale, Karvalo bowed his head, and she put her wreath upon it. He knew then that Essero’s judgement was sounder than it sometimes seemed.
Next, Seyglena presented Ernala with a boar-skin hat embellished with many fine jewels.
‘This is a significant gift,’ said Seyglena. ‘This house was founded by the kin of Kawo, among whom my sons number—let me tell you about him. There was Kawo in the twilit woods, sitting on a grassy knoll and plucking on his harp, his music soft and sweet. And passing by was a company of thanes, riding among them a girl called Gonwela. She heard Kawo’s music drifting through the trees, and she leapt at once from her horse and made into the gloom, seeking the source of the song. There she found Kawo, broad and beautiful, and she bade him speak his name, that she would know whose perfect plucking had so enchanted her.
‘“Tell me thine,” said Kawo, “and perhaps I shall tell thee mine.”
‘“Nay!” said Gonwela, for she was first to ask.
‘So Kawo looked to his harp, and he said, “Take mine harp, and play better than ever I could. Play a song fairer than the fairest flower, and brighter than the brightest star. Do this for me now, and perhaps I shall tell thee my name.”
‘But Gonwela put forth her hand, and she said, “Take my warmth, and bear me a son. Make him taller than the tallest oak, and firmer than the firmest mountain. Do this for me now, and perhaps I shall tell thee my name.”
‘Kawo said, “Pluck mine harp, and I shall bear thee a son, and thus will each of us be entitled to the other’s name.”
‘To this Gonwela agreed. She took Kawo’s harp, rested it in her lap, and plucked away. But that artless girl plucked so poorly that the nearby flowers wilted, and the stars above grew dim, and she shed a single tear. Sighing softly, Kawo sat himself beside her, took her hands in his, and guided her fingers over the strings. Just so they played, and they played so sweet a song that the flowers bloomed anew, and the stars shone bright once more.
‘“But that is only half of it,” said Gonwela, and she bade Kawo join her in the glory of the night. They became well acquainted.
‘Now Kawo shed a single tear, for he knew at once that he would bear no son. But when Gonwela put her arms around him, when she wiped away his tear and kissed his cheek, he felt in her the wellspring of life. He touched his hand to her stomach, and this he said: “Although there is no son in me, there is the seed of one in thee. Within thy womb is the son of Kawo, for Kawo is my name.”
‘Gonwela said, “And within my womb is the son of Gonwela, for that is mine.”
‘Then Kawo asked Gonwela to be his wife, and she asked him to be her husband. With a triumphant snort, he turned himself into a great boar, and she climbed upon his back and rode him out of the woods. From their union was born mighty Syardeo, a man tall and firm, and Gonwela would become a king of many peoples, and Kawo her foremost warrior.’
When Seyglena had finished, she had Ernala bow her head and mounted the boar-skin hat atop her hair. Then they all joined hands.
‘Essero,’ said Karvalo, ‘and Ernala, too. Welcome to Pearmol, my house and yours. Let us each count the others among our closest kin.’
Then they parted.
Now it is important to introduce a certain squat fellow named Sedweo, whom some people liked to call Squit-wit. A noisy man with broad shoulders, he was Essero’s closest companion, and he fancied himself a poet. Indeed, he could never let a verse be spoken without trying to better it.
On the evening of Essero’s return to Pearmol, he and Sedweo came together to share a meal in private. They took each other in their arms and offered their warmest words of greeting, and then they sat down to eat. Before they began, Sedweo took out a pickled parsnip and halved it lengthways. He gave one half to Essero, and he kept the other.
‘My friend,’ said Sedweo, ‘I have so longed to share a parsnip with you.’
‘And so long have I likewise longed,’ said Essero, and then they each ate their half and went on with their meal.
They spoke long into the night, and it happened that Sedweo mentioned in passing a man they call Thennelo.
‘Who is this man they call Thennelo?’ said Essero.
‘Thalo Thennelo,’ said Sedweo. ‘But as for who he is—who knows? He slew some trolls, or so they say, and nothing else is said. He slumps about here and there, and he keeps no company besides mulch-minded Ormana. A queer one in a queer two. I can say no more about who’s who.’
‘A lowborn lad with low-hung eyes? A man I ought to meet, I think.’
So Essero met Ormana the next morning.
‘Ormana,’ he said, ‘I have heard of a silly sort of man whom the wind has blown into my house. Thennelo, I have heard him called. The Thalo man. Bring me to him, that I may measure him against my mighty self.’
‘He will have no interest in that,’ said Ormana.
‘It is not for me to consider his interests, but for him to consider mine. As it is for you, servant of my household. So put your tongue away and hasten me to him!’
Ormana did as Essero bade and brought him to the big stable, where Thalo was gathering manure. But before she could say any words of introduction, Essero was before her, his hands upon his hips.
‘You there!’ he said. ‘Oy-oy, man! Are you the man they call Thennelo? Is this muck-man a murder-man, and a murderer of monsters?’
‘I am Thalo,’ said Thalo.
‘Ho! How curt. I tell you, Thalo man, it will not do you well to speak to such a man in such a manner.’
‘Who are you?’
‘Who am I? What a jape! You know, when first I heard of the man they call Thennelo, I imagined the fellow behind the feat, the daring doer, the battle-tested warrior. A man very much like myself, tall and big and bold. Firm and unbending. Unyielding. Indomitable! Handsome and gracious and rugged all at once. What a man! What a splendid man among men he must be! But now, Thalo man, I see little you, and I hear your little words.’ Essero shook his head. ‘I mean to be as gentle as can be when I say that you seem not even half of that. It is a terrible shame to discover my expectations were so greatly overblown, such is my unending imagination. Indeed, my father has often said my head is right brimming with ideas and ambitions—it is why I have made such a roaring success of myself—but the dreadful disappointment I suffer here today is proof enough that it is not without cost. In any case, Thalo man, you may yet prove your capability, that you are worthy of serving both me and my kin. Perhaps, one day, you will be glad to ride with your horn-helmed lord and make glorious war against his foes! Perhaps. But until that day, I warn you not to think too much of yourself.’
Then Essero picked up his nose and swept himself away, and that was that. It was not until he was gone that Ormana told Thalo who he was.
‘He is Essero,’ she said. ‘Karvalo’s son.’
‘What is the son of a pig,’ said Thalo, ‘but another pig?’
At this, Ormana snorted. She said, ‘So says the man in the muck,’ and then she went on her way.
The summer feast was held that evening. Ormana came to fetch Thalo as it was beginning. He declined her invitation in his usual fashion, and so she threatened violence in hers.
‘We have been through this before,’ she said, ‘and I hope for your sake we need not go through it again. When I say you ought to come, what I mean is that you must and that you will. If not of your own accord, then I will chop you up and take you in pieces, and maybe they will serve you steamed for afters.’
That did not prove to be necessary. Despite his unwillingness, Thalo came in one piece.
The hall was as it ever was on such occasions, warm and busy and loud with chit-chat, but it was summer now, so it was all very much worse. The evening began as it often did. There was barely an empty spot at the benches, and barely a gulp of air to gasp, and the musicians were already out of time, and Thalo was ready to leave the moment he sat down.
But then, a little while later, Solmodo-of-the-door came marching down to the platform. He seized one of the drums, gave it a sound banging, and called for the hall’s attention, gesturing up the aisle. All eyes followed his hand to the doors, and as they swung open, in strutted a cohort of warriors, each decked in gleaming mail, each glittering magnificently in the firelight. At the front strode Awldano, Karvalo’s shining sun of a son, the Writhe-wrangler himself, dressed just as finely as his friends, but topped with an all the more exquisite helmet, outshining all the others. That radiant man! His splendid troop!
Awldano knelt before the firepit, his hand on his chest, and Karvalo stood from his seat and went to meet him.
‘Late as ever,’ he said. ‘It seems a long time ago I was informed of your prompt arrival. Prompt! I trust nothing untoward has befallen you, my son?’
‘Nothing of the sort,’ said Awldano, removing his helmet.
Karvalo took Awldano’s hand as he rose and embraced him. ‘So all is well?’ But Awldano had no chance to answer before Karvalo said further, ‘No. You are home, you are alive, and you are laden with treasure. All is well.’
Then Karvalo kissed Awldano and bade him take a seat. Awldano nodded, that filial fellow, and he stepped up onto the platform to sit at the high table.
Now Karvalo called for the attention of the hall and proceeded to make a long and haughty speech about the many glories of his kinsfolk, the great repute of his retinue, and the pride with which he regarded his sons’ achievements. Thalo paid no attention to that, for his name did not pass Karvalo’s lips.
When Karvalo had finished his speech, Essero sprang up behind him and had Sedweo say some words of his own. Sedweo did not need to be asked twice. He leapt up likewise, cleared his throat, and spoke this verse:
‘Ye noble sons of noble man,
who bring such cause to kin and clan
for too much food and yet more drink,
that all will gorge till none can think
of aught else but their bloated tums,
their tired tongues and crowning bums,
their bladders bogged with mead-made piss;
‘tis but for you we suffer this!’
For this he was rewarded with a courteous round of applause, whereafter Karvalo seized control of things, lifting his cup and giving a stern, ‘Oy-oy!’
The hall offered an ‘Oy-oy!’ in return, and everyone returned to their own business.
Thalo spent the remainder of the evening with Ormana until he could take no more of the hall, when the whole weight of the world seemed to bear down upon him. He stood up and said he needed to be elsewhere, somewhere calmer, and cooler, and preferably his bench. Ormana thanked him for his company and saw him off. However, as he made for the door, a great pair of hands found themselves upon his shoulders.
‘Thalo man!’ said Essero, grabbing him from behind. ‘You are not to leave this hall before the proper introductions have been made.’
So Thalo turned to find not one lordling looming behind him, but two, for there was Awldano beside his brother.
‘Here he is,’ said Essero, turning to Awldano. ‘This little fellow is the man they call Thennelo, if you can believe it.’
‘So you are the Thalo man?’ said Awldano.
Thalo nodded. ‘I am Thalo.’
‘Yes. I have heard a bit about you already, Thalo.’
‘As have many. As will many more.’
Essero scoffed. ‘A boastful little git, just as I said.’ He looked to Awldano as if to invite him to agree, but he decided to say more before anyone else could get a word in. ‘Let me remind you, Thalo, not to pretend you are taller than you are. I have asked many for their assessments of you, and I think any praise at all would be more than you deserve.’
‘How many is many?’
‘Never you mind. I have heard about the heads in the hall, and impressive though they may have been, no one saw the deed done, did they?’
‘I have witnesses.’
‘Ah! A pack of old coots, by all accounts, with a nothing-much wretch chief among them. Certainly delusional. No, they would surely lay their eyes upon mighty me and believe themselves beset by some beast from ancient days, were I not so delightfully well faced. Nonsense, all of it. Say, Awldano, speak—what do you make of this piffle?’
Awldano said, ‘I know only what I have been told. I have not examined the matter quite as closely as you have, brother, nor with such interest.’
‘Awldano man, my brother. I have not examined this matter at all closely. I have merely heeded reason and thusly sniffed out the wretched reek of ill intent. Something is certainly amiss here. Surely you smell it too, you keen-nosed brother of mine?’
‘If the scent were so strong, someone should have smelt it by now.’
‘But look at him. Look at him! Or can you not? Why, that is because there is nothing there! Is this a war-man you see before you? This paltry thing? What a laughable thought! I would be surprised if such a thing could best a hoar-head, and I am expected to believe he put down not one troll, but two? And who has ever met a troll, anyway? The very notion is insulting. Do you truly believe this hogwash?’
Awldano took a moment to look Thalo over before answering. It was an incredible claim to be sure, but incredible things had happened before, and smarter folk than him believed it.
‘As I said,’ said Awldano, ‘I know only what I have been told, and I am inclined to believe some more than others.’
‘Bah! What folly is this? No. I will not dignify it. If I am the only person here with any sense at all, so be it.’
Then Essero left them. Awldano took the opportunity to introduce himself properly.
‘I am Awldano,’ he said. ‘Though I suppose you have gathered as much.’ Then he stopped briefly, before saying, ‘Please forgive my brother’s vitality.’
‘No,’ said Thalo.
‘Such would be your right, I suppose.’ Awldano rubbed his beard, thin and patchy with youth, and nodded for a while as Thalo stared at him. Neither quite had the force of character to take charge and end the conversation properly, so they stood in silence until Awldano could suffer it no more. ‘If that is all, I will leave you be. Good evening and good night, Thalo man.’
Thalo bowed his head. ‘Good night.’
Then Awldano turned sharply and went back down the aisle, and Thalo went off to bed.
The summer games were played on the following day, and everyone had a grand time. Essero challenged Thalo to meet him in a contest of strength by individual rope-pulling, but Thalo thrice refused him. Essero made a fuss, called him craven and cowardly, and questioned his masculine pride, but when Thalo would not be tempted, he huffed and moved along.
The games ended such that Solmodo won the barrel, as he always did, and a worthless man named Elvoro, whom everyone hated, took the rag.