L
Ogo came back to Samnew as a new dawn approached and told Odwala all he could. He spoke of their arrival at the barrow, of the battle with the dragon, and of Awldano’s death, although he chose not to mention that he had been the one to deal the mortal wound. Meanwhile, Thalo was laid on a bench to rest. Foyva the Priest tended to him with her many ointments and remedies, but she was often unsure of their usefulness.
‘What mortal toil,’ she said, ‘can heal immortal wounds?’
None but immortal time could tell.
Oze the Bald led a company of Awldano’s thanes to the barrow to recover their lord’s body. They also collected what they could find of his belongings, and Thalo’s likewise, and laid claim to the treasures of the barrow. The takings were thus: two swords and their sheaths; two shields, spears, and long-hafted axes; two helmets and hauberks; two gold-wound belt buckles and some related pieces; the fittings of a saddle and bridle; a glittering silver platter and matching set of cups; a whale-bone broach, many golden rings, and other fine jewelleries; the remnants of an ornate box, once filled with red and white gemstones; and a single gold coin from the south. Last of all, they took possession of Bleygo’s severed dragon head, proof of the deed.
Odwala put the treasures aside and had Awldano taken to his bed. In Thalo’s absence, she and Foyva stripped Awldano of his bloodied clothes and washed his skin, and in so doing they discovered a stab wound on his chest.
‘I wonder how it got there,’ said Foyva.
But Odwala said, ‘The dragon did this.’
They covered his body with an embroidered cloth of green and blue. The cloth they used was larger than was proper, for they sought to cover him from his head to his thighs and thereby hide his wounds. They did not bedeck him yet, for as long as he still lived, that could only be Thalo’s task.
The same day, Odwala sent word of Awldano’s death to Pearmol. No one wanted to be the one to take it, and so Odwala sent Eyge, whom she hoped to be trusty enough to soften any wrath that arose in Karvalo’s heart. When Eyge came before him, she told him everything she knew.
‘What woeful news,’ said Karvalo. ‘My second son of two lies dead, and I am thusly bereft. This is a sad day.’
Karvalo decreed that Awldano would be buried at Pearmol and ordered the construction of a pyre by the cemetery. He accompanied Eyge back to Samnew and told Odwala that he was arranging Awldano’s funeral.
‘Therefore,’ he said, ‘he will come home tomorrow.’
‘It would not be fitting,’ said Odwala, ‘to conduct his funeral before Thalo has woken.’
‘Do you expect him to wake?’
‘He fought a dragon. Whether one can wake after that, none can say.’
They agreed to wait three days. If Thalo had not awoken by then, Odwala would bring Awldano home without him.
While he was still at Samnew, Karvalo appointed Odwala to the lordship, sparing no time for an assembly. Odwala accepted the appointment with grace and humility, and together they negotiated the division of the barrow-booty. In the end, they split it in two. Odwala kept half for the lordship, and Karvalo took the rest as Awldano’s personal share, including Bleygo’s head.
Karvalo spent the rest of the day at Awldano’s bedside, where he happened to pull back the funerary cloth and discover a stab wound on his chest. He put his fingers upon it and said, ‘However did this come to be?’
He covered Awldano once more and began questioning his thanes to learn whatever he could about the circumstances of his death. No one could say much more than he already knew, so he returned to Pearmol the following morning, but he did not go alone—he took Ogo with him.
The night before Awldano was due to go home, Thalo finally awoke after three days. Foyva happened to be in the room with him, and after hawking up blood and phlegm, he said, ‘Where is Awldano?’
Foyva told Thalo everything she knew, and then she said, ‘He yet lies upon your bed. You must go to him.’
Thalo did that. He arose and went sore and stumbling to his bedroom, where Awldano lay dead. Thalo fell upon him, put his hands on him, and then pulled back the funerary cloth to reveal his head, mauled and lifeless. He winced, but he shed no tears.
‘Awldano,’ he said. ‘I did it. I slew the dragon.’ He took up Awldano’s hand and kissed the twisted silver ring upon his little finger. ‘You are avenged.’
Odwala soon came into the room, and she said she had taken up the lordship at Karvalo’s request.
‘You are Awldano’s husband,’ she said, ‘or, rather, his widower. We ought to agree the new arrangements.’
Thalo kept his eyes on Awldano and said, ‘The lordship is yours. There is nothing to discuss.’
‘There is also the matter of the treasure. Karvalo has taken one half, and I the other, but I would not deprive you of a share. You won it, after all.’
Thalo said, ‘The treasure is yours. There is nothing to discuss.’
‘Of course. We will be going to Pearmol in the morning. I will leave you for now.’
Odwala bowed her head and left the room, and once she stood alone, she said to herself, ‘The lordship is mine, and the treasure likewise. The seeds of strife indeed yield the sweetest fruits.’
Thalo got himself dressed, and the household took Awldano to Pearmol that morning with a solemn silence hanging over them. Odwala led the procession, and Awldano went behind her on the back of a wain, surrounded by his finest things. Beside him rode Thalo, all his belongings either on his person or hung from Ondayo’s saddle. He did not intend to return to Samnew, for there was no longer any reason to stay.
When they came to Pearmol, Awldano was brought inside and laid upon a bed, where Thalo bedecked him. He put a ring of gold about his neck, and one about each of his arms, wrists, and ankles. However, as he did this, he took off the funerary cloth and saw the wound upon Awldano’s chest.
‘What is this?’ he said. ‘I have seen your every scar, but not this. This was not a dragon’s work. Who did this?’ Thalo traced the wound’s outline with his fingers, considering all he had been told about Awldano’s return to Samnew, and its cause became clear. ‘There is yet vengeance to be had.’
Thalo kissed the wound, then finished bedecking Awldano and covered him once more.
Karvalo and Seyglena were the first to visit the deathbed. Karvalo’s crying was over and done with, so he stood stoic and held Seyglena’s hand as she wept for her son. No one had anything to say, but Karvalo’s eyes said more than any words could, giving Thalo every foul glare he had.
Essero and Ernala visited next, having come from Ennaslad to honour their kinsman. Essero came with little Ewffoa in his arms, eager to reunite her with her uncle one last time.
‘And alas that it should be so,’ said Essero. ‘Had I been with you, Awldano, perhaps you might still live. One more shield, one more spear—would that have been enough? No, there is nothing to be done about that now.’ Essero bowed before Thalo. ‘He was a worthy brother, my brother by womb and oath alike. I am glad, Thalo, that you were able to uphold our covenant as I was not. Our sworn brother is avenged.’
Then Essero kissed Thalo’s cheek and left the room, and Ernala went with him.
Thalo oversaw further visits throughout the day, until Ormana came in the evening. She came alone. At the time of Awldano’s death, her mother, Esleyna, had died not three months ago. Kettelo, one of Esleyna’s housemates, had gone out hunting one day and caught a hefty quail, brought it home, stewed it, and given her a hearty portion. However, she fell suddenly ill shortly thereafter. Kettelo supposed she would recover swiftly, for no one else who had eaten the stew was similarly afflicted, but she did not. Despite everyone’s efforts to allay her sickness, her condition only worsened, until Kettelo feared it could only come to one conclusion.
Ormana did not visit Esleyna at all during that time, but Kettelo nonetheless threw himself at her feet and said, ‘Ormana, you must come to your mother. She is dying!’
Ormana did that. She sat beside Esleyna as she lay dying on her bench, and with a tear in her eye, she took her hand.
‘Mother,’ she said. ‘I love you. I always have. You must know that. Please know that I tried.’
Esleyna said nothing, but she kept hold of Ormana’s hand as she died.
Her grave was dug next to Yorlayvo’s, such that his urn lay between hers and that of Kolmago and Fenneo. Next to them was Amfredha, for she too had died in the previous years. After Esleyna’s grave was filled and the funerary procession had departed, Ormana remained with only faithful Yondea to hold her as she wept.
Just so did Ormana sit beside Thalo and take him in her arms. His head fell upon her shoulder, and for the first time since Awldano’s death, he wept.
Karvalo held the funeral the next morning. He took the procession over the river to the cemetery, where Awldano was laid upon a pyre at the far end, past the shrine and the trees. Seyglena performed the funerary rites.
‘It is a cruel thing,’ she said, ‘that I must sing for another of my sons.’ After sprinkling some soil and water upon Awldano’s body, she raised her arms aloft and said, ‘Hear me! Hear me and heed me!’
She spoke this verse:
‘As day will ever pass to night,
so wrongs will ever be made right.
As joy will ever pass to strife,
so death will ever yield new life.’
Then Seyglena knelt and sang a dirge as the pyre was lit.
Once the flames had gone out, most of the mourners turned away, leaving only Awldano’s closest friends and relatives. His bones were collected into an urn, alongside what treasures had survived the fire, and this was placed amid the remnants of the pyre. Some of his belongings were laid about it: his mail coat; his sword, axe, and spear; his shield; his splintered helmet; and all the things he treasured most. Last of all, Thalo took Awldano’s silver ring from the ashes, kissed it, and placed it in the urn. He stepped away.
Karvalo had an upturned skiff laid above the grave goods, over which a burial mound was to be built. Seyglena threw on the first fistful of earth.
‘O bounty!’ she said. ‘Let us beseech you! Let not this loss be lasting!’
Thus was Awldano truly dead.
Karvalo led the procession home as work on the mound began.
That evening, Karvalo presided over the funeral feast. Essero sat at his left, and Ernala sat next to him. Seyglena was at Karvalo’s right. Beside her stood a fifth, empty chair. That was Thalo’s seat, though he never came to claim it. Instead, he sat alone outside, turning his ring around his finger. And as he watched the sunset, as the sky turned red before him, so too did his mind.
‘There is yet vengeance to be had,’ he said.
So Thalo gathered his things and strode into the hall mid-feast.
‘Ogo!’ he said.
Ogo heard his name, but he could not discern his caller through the clamour of the hall. He hopped into the aisle and said, ‘I am Ogo! Who are you?’
And at once, he wished he had not, for there was Thalo in the doorway, his sword drawn, ever-eager Sleme, his face dour and grim.
‘I am Thalo,’ said Thalo, ‘and I am vengeance!’
Then he lifted his sword and sprang full pelt down the aisle. As Ogo fled, five or six of Karvalo’s thanes leapt up to intervene, but Thalo had the fleeter feet. He seized Ogo’s shoulder, and with one heady lunge, he drove his sword through his back.
‘Aiee!’ said Ogo, and he dropped dead.
Only a moment later, the thanes all fell upon Thalo and dragged him back, holding him in the aisle as Karvalo arose. He came down from the platform and stood tall before Thalo, his head high, his shoulders back.
‘You have bloodied my floor,’ he said, ‘marred my hall, and disturbed my house. Today is a solemn day, and you have sullied it with a murder. What is your defence?’
Thalo said nothing.
‘Of course. We all saw it.’ Karvalo withdrew Sleme from Ogo’s back and pointed the bloody blade at Thalo. ‘Justice must be done.’
At that moment, Essero came down from the platform and put his hand on Karvalo’s, lowering the sword.
‘Hold on,’ he said. ‘Tell us this, Thalo. You have spoken of vengeance, but vengeance was dealt upon the death of the dragon. How does this killing satisfy you?’
‘Awldano was killed by no tooth or claw,’ said Thalo, ‘but by a knife in the heart. There was a stab wound on his chest. Ogo killed him.’
Karvalo scoffed, saying, ‘And who can vouch for it? Who here knows this to be true? As long as Awldano lay dead, his body was covered, so grim were his wounds.’
At the edge of the room, Foyva turned to Odwala and whispered, ‘We can vouch for the wound.’
But Odwala shook her head and said, ‘The dragon did this.’
No one else spoke, and so Karvalo pushed Essero away and pointed Sleme at Ogo’s body.
‘No,’ he said, ‘this man did not kill my son.’ He lifted the sword, holding it before Thalo’s face. ‘You did that. You tempted him with your baseborn wiles, lessened his honour, and led him headlong to his death. You killed him!’
But again, Essero lowered the sword.
‘Hold on,’ he said. ‘This is no justice.’ He pointed to Ogo’s body. ‘He was not your man.’
‘All the same,’ said Karvalo, ‘this man is a murderer, a chancer and a crook. He deserves to die for his crime, and as the lord of this domain, it is my duty to perform the penalty—my duty and my privilege!’
Essero took his hand away from Sleme’s hilt and put it on that of his own sword. ‘Father, Thalo is my sworn brother, and I will avenge him. That was the oath I swore, and my oath is binding.’
‘You would threaten me? Where are my twofold sons? They are gone! One dead, the other foolish. These are not the men I reared, and whose fault is that?’ Karvalo turned his eyes back to Thalo and raised the sword once more. ‘You took them from me, scourge of my house!’
Thalo’s gaze fell to the floor, his body slack in the grip of Karvalo’s thanes. He would die that day, at long last. He deserved nothing less.
Watching from the benches, Ormana saw the last of his spirit escape him, and she arose.
‘Hold on,’ she said. ‘Consider, Karvalo, what my father would think if he could see you now. What would he think of the man who insults his own sons, who would spill blood in his own hall, on his own floor? What would he think of his friend’s dishonour?’
Karvalo looked to Ormana, and it was as if he saw in her stead Yorlayvo himself, his most beloved friend, standing to admonish him. At once, his wrath diminished, and he lowered the sword.
‘You are to leave this place forthwith,’ he said. ‘Should you return here, the punishment will be mine alone to decide, and mine alone to perform.’
Then he dropped the sword and left the hall.
The thanes dragged Thalo outside and shoved him down the steps. No one was there to catch him. Essero picked Sleme up and went out after them, and Ormana followed him. As they came down the steps, Thalo seized his sword from Essero’s hand, and found his mettle anew.
‘He will die,’ he said. ‘Karvalo will die, and I will kill him!’
Essero said, ‘You will not walk out of that hall twice today.’
That made no difference to Thalo. He stepped forth, his sword in hand, but Essero caught his arm and held him back.
‘Put your sword away,’ he said. ‘Awldano gave his life to stand beside you, to spare yours. Do not let his efforts be wasted.’
Thalo looked to Ormana, but she only shook her head. He sheathed his sword.
Essero said, ‘Now go, and do not return to Samnew. There will be no peace for you there.’
Then Essero bowed and went inside.
Once he had gone, Ormana said, ‘Where will you go?’
‘Wherever the road takes me,’ said Thalo. ‘As it was. As it should be.’
He paused briefly, and then he thanked Ormana for speaking on his behalf.
‘Say no more of it,’ she said. ‘No one deserves to die.’
There were a great many other things she meant to say, but she could not find the strength to say them. Instead, she put her arms around him, and without a word, Thalo held her, clung to her. That was good, but it could not last.
They parted, and that proved to be their final parting. Ormana went inside, Thalo rode away, and nothing more would be said between them.