LII
A short while after her election by the rede, the young king took up her kingly mantle at Brownos. The lords were all in attendance, as were all her reeves, and all the other great folk of her kingdom. Of the earls of Norlonn, only Solvega had been invited. She came alongside her son, Enroko, whom she still hoped would be betrothed to the king. The pair were introduced before the ceremony, but Enroko was only fifteen at that time (some four-and-a-half years the king’s junior), and he was nervous, and very sweaty, and generally lacking in grace. Yordhoa in particular was unimpressed.
‘Solvega,’ she said, ‘what makes you think he is fit to marry the king?’
Solvega said, ‘We made an agreement, did we not?’
‘I proposed a settlement, and the settlement was rejected. There is not yet any such agreement between us.’
‘Not yet?’
‘Not yet. In time, there may be, but I recommend you make haste, Solvega, and convince your countrymen to agree to my terms. The deal is not done until the deal is done.’
Solvega said she would do just that and took Enroko away where he could not further lessen his chances.
All the same, his chances soon plummeted. The king’s mantling was also attended once more by Tholvoa Asnyorannan from the south, but this time she came not on behalf of the King of Baklalonn, but as the king herself. Standing proudly at his mother’s side was Aldoro once more, and after the ceremony, he went to the king and asked her to marry him.
‘Let me think about it,’ said the king.
‘What is there to think about?’ said Yordhoa. ‘If you marry him, your heirs will be the heirs of twofold kingdoms, and your legacy will be great. You will accept the offer, and accept it quickly, for we must be leaving soon.’
‘Let her think,’ said Aldoro, ‘and let me leave with you, if I may, that she may take all the time she needs.’
Yordhoa considered this request, and then she said, ‘Very well. You should make for an acceptable guest.’
Thus did Aldoro accompany the king back to Syorbak.
On the day of their return, the king met secretly with a young man named Klozo. He was the son of Nyalo, the Steward of Feklam, and he had long been a close friend of hers, but in recent years, they had become rather friendlier. The king told Klozo about the proposals she had received at Brownos, and he urged her to accept Aldoro’s.
‘But what about you?’ said the king.
‘What we do in our own time,’ said Klozo, ‘is for us alone to know. Your marriage to another fellow ought not change that.’
‘How unscrupulous!’
‘Not unscrupulous, but pragmatic.’
The king took Klozo’s advice and accepted Aldoro’s proposal. They were married at Syorbak only a few weeks later.
Aldoro stayed with the king for a few more weeks thereafter. During that time, she and Klozo continued frolicking together. Then, shortly before Aldoro was to return home, he invited the king to rejoice with him.
‘Today,’ he said, ‘is weddings day, and I am your husband, and you are my wife. It is only fitting that we should make merry together.’
‘I appreciate that,’ said the king, ‘but I have had my fill for today.’
‘What do you mean by that?’
Upon realising what she had said, the king flushed and fell silent.
‘Say, Kara, what do you mean by that?’
‘I am quite tired and have had enough of the day. Perhaps we can postpone that discussion.’
‘I would rather discuss the matter now.’
‘And I would rather not.’
The king left the room in a hurry, and she went straight to Klozo. She told him what had been said and bade him make himself scarce, but alas, there was to be no hiding for him—Aldoro had followed her. He came barging into the room to find them alone together, and he was enraged.
‘This is the adulterator?’ he said. ‘This sniveller?’
Then he shoved the king aside, seized Klozo by his hair, and dragged him out into the hall to make their private matter public.
‘What dishonour!’ he said. ‘This man is a rapist! He has raped my wife, and he has thereby raped me!’
Aldoro drew his sword, intending to slay Klozo on the spot, but before the blow fell, the king came forth, pushed him over, and divorced him.
‘You cannot divorce me!’ said Aldoro.
‘I can,’ said the king, ‘and I have. You are welcome neither in my hall, nor my kingdom. Begone!’
Aldoro did not move until Fena the Chancellor—she was his aunt—came out of the council chamber. He asked her to remedy the situation, but she said the only remedy would be for him to leave, and she led him out herself.
Aldoro left Syorbak the next day, and he ended up taking Fena with him, having offered her a position of high status in his retinue. In her place, Yordhoa had the king grant the chancellery to a woman named Foldea, Solvega’s sister, hoping her appointment might lessen any disgruntlement that had arisen after the king’s marriage to Aldoro, rather than Enroko. Given recent events, the possibility of a match with the latter suitor was renewed, and Yordhoa would let nothing jeopardise it. Thus, she came to Klozo with a stern look in her eye.
‘Your options are twofold,’ she said. ‘Your first is to cease your dealings with my daughter, leave this place, and never come back. The second is to die, but not before all your kin are forced out of their homes and into outlawry. Choose now, Klozo, and choose well.’
Klozo chose the first option. He came to the king one evening and said he needed to leave.
The king said, ‘Must it be so?’
‘It must. My love for you is no less than ever it was, but our being together has proven perilous. I cannot let you shoulder that risk. It is much too painful.’
‘No. I will shoulder that risk—I choose to shoulder it.’
‘But you deserve to love—and to be loved—without fear of retribution. I cannot offer you that.’
The king protested further, but Klozo’s mind would not be changed.
‘I will leave tomorrow,’ he said, ‘and that will be that.’
‘Will we ever meet again?’ said the king.
‘Who knows?’
Klozo left Syorbak the next day, and the king soon told her mother what had happened.
‘My dear girl,’ said Yordhoa, ‘You have squandered two men now, but fate has seen fit to grant you a third chance at marriage. I understand little Enroko is still on the prowl.’
‘I refuse!’ said the king. ‘I will never love again!’
‘Who said anything about love? Few ever prove to be as desirable a spouse as you are. Be grateful for his willingness to overlook your recent indignities and marry him.’
‘No!’
‘This is not a discussion. I am your mother.’
‘And I am your king!’
Yordhoa laughed. ‘As was your father, and his brother likewise. These are perilous times, Kara. Do as I say, and you will see them through. Refuse, and time alone can tell what troubles await you.’
The king ended up agreeing to marry Enroko. Solvega affirmed the match on his behalf, and they were married at Syorbak a month or so later. News of their marriage soon found its way to all the foremost folk of Eylavol, and many decided they did not much like it.
‘What treachery!’ said Godleda at Ordenn. ‘We are supposed to be cutting our ties to the kingship, not strengthening them. But perhaps I can turn this to my advantage?’
Thus, she set off for Bealnew to contest the earldom. The magnates were summoned for an election towards the end of the summer, and though both Solvega and Godleda still had many stout supporters who would not be swayed, there were enough in the middle that it could go either way. Godleda stated her case first, slandering the kingship and so on, and many of the magnates cheered. Then it was Solvega’s turn.
‘My friends,’ she said, ‘we must make a choice. Are we to be bound to the kingship in the south, or to the overlordship of Thrandeo of Noynavol? We are forced to choose between two kings, so tell me this: which of them has spent months and years harrying our lands, destroying our homes, and killing our people? When you choose your earl, you likewise choose your king. Let us all hope you choose well.’
At the end of the day, the magnates chose Solvega, but only by the slightest of margins.
‘You nits!’ said Godleda. ‘You have doomed us all!’
Then she returned to Ordenn, leaving Solvega to keep hold of her earldom.
Taking this victory to be proof of the magnates’ support for the kingship, Solvega made good on her side of the agreement with Yordhoa and proclaimed the dissolution of the Earldom of Eylavol.
‘Henceforth shall this domain be a shire of the king’s law,’ she said, ‘and I shall be its reeve.’
The king was due to come up to Bealnew to affirm the establishment of the new shire, but she had recently caught a terrible cold from Enroko. She was so brimming with phlegm that she could hardly breathe, and so Yordhoa sent her cousin Alvaro on her behalf. He came up to Bealnew, said ‘The king concurs,’ and then he went home again.
Of course, this left Solvega’s foes all the bitterer, and they began plotting, each only stoking the others’ fury until it was too much to bear, until something needed to be done. That something happened towards the end of the year, when Solvega was heading southwards to Openn to meet with a man named Tholreo. He was Yordhoa’s younger brother, whom she had appointed to the Reeveship of Syoglonn after forcing Mora to surrender it. As Solvega passed Thrawrsyog, Godleda attempted to ambush her, but she misjudged the approach, and her troop was spotted before she could make the first move. Godleda commenced the attack nonetheless.
‘We have suffered too much to give up now,’ she said. ‘Go forth, thanes! Go forth and kill!’
The battle was fought on fairer footing than Godleda had hoped, and that was enough for Solvega to clinch a narrow victory. Her warriors held their shields just a bit firmer, thrust their spears just a bit harder, and Godleda’s warband routed. Godleda herself was killed as she fled alongside them, but Solvega’s side had taken enough of a battering that she was also forced to turn back to Bealnew.
Thus did war befall the magnates of Eylavol once more, but where before they had fought against folk from other lands, now they fought one another. And what miserable days those were! Those foes were so alike in stock and conviction that as sons slew their fathers, so fathers slew their sons, and as thanes broke their oaths, so their oaths broke them.
It was around this time that Godleda’s cousin, Ayrmodho, found himself in the middle of things. He had taken control of Ordenn following her death, and he oversaw a series of successful skirmishes against Solvega’s allies, bolstered with support from Thrandeo. His chiefest ally was his nephew, Eslayvo, and Eslayvo’s husband was none other than Gaydeno Gaydeannan.
After Gaylodho had sent him away from Klagenn, Gaydeno came to a farm called Gronn in the western part of Eylavol, where he lived with his father’s relatives. However, he had a very rotten time there, and as soon he had come of age a few years later, he made his way back eastwards to Bealnew to make a man of himself. There he found his way into Beyla’s retinue, and thereafter into Eslayvo’s bed.
‘Did you hear,’ Eslayvo said to him one morning, ‘about Beyla’s guests? They have come seeking justice for the murder of their kinsman, old Gaylodho. He was your uncle, no? Perhaps you could join them and get something out of it. They say he was quite rich, after all.’
‘I will not be avenging him,’ said Gaydeno. ‘No riches could sway me to pledge myself to so wretched a fellow. Whoever the murderer was, he has done a good deed.’
‘Just as we have!’
Gaydeno ended up marrying Eslayvo on the very same day Thalo married Awldano. They stayed at Bealnew trying to make themselves important men, but never had much luck until Ayrmodho took them into his retinue following Beyla’s murder.
‘Boys,’ he had said, ‘heed me. Together, we shall make this land our own.’
To that end, Ayrmodho made arrangements with a magnate named Lokkele, who had previously been married to Enlovo the High-reeve, Solvega’s brother. Though they remained one of Solvega’s closest confidants, their relationship had become increasingly fraught, and Ayrmodho turned it to his advantage.
‘If you will do for me,’ he said, ‘I will do for you. Remove Solvega from her seat, and it will be yours for the taking. I will see to that.’
‘I will hold you to that,’ said Lokkele.
One day in the spring after Godleda’s death, Lokkele and Solvega met to share some domestic gossip, as often they did.
‘Lean in,’ said Lokkele. ‘I have something to tell you, and even though we sit in private, it is so scandalous that I would still rather whisper it.’
‘That sounds very juicy!’ said Solvega, and she leant forwards.
But instead of whispering into her ear, Lokkele clubbed her over the head, bound her in rope, and took control of Bealnew.
Ayrmodho arrived a little while later and said, ‘Good work, Lokkele! Now get lost.’
‘I beg your pardon,’ said Lokkele. ‘I have removed Solvega from her seat. It is mine for the taking, just as you promised.’
‘I do not recall making such a promise.’
Lokkele drew their knife and considered attacking Ayrmodho, but he had his stoutest thanes behind him, while Lokkele had just betrayed their closest friend. They left without making any more of a fuss.
At once, Ayrmodho chaired a council of Solvega’s thanes. Once everyone had piled into her house, he brought her before them, shoved her to the ground, and told her to renounce her support for the kingship.
‘I refuse!’ said Solvega.
‘Very well,’ said Ayrmodho. He drew his sword. ‘What will be your dying words?’
‘Wait. I have changed my mind.’
‘A poor choice.’
Then Ayrmodho stabbed Solvega through the back, and that killed her. Her thanes all threw up their voices, and his threw up their swords.
‘Settle down, everyone,’ said Ayrmodho. ‘I am in charge now. If you accept that and submit to me, we will all be better for it: me, you, and all the folk of Eylavol. Who will object?’
All of Solvega’s supporters shouted out their objections.
‘Here,’ said Eslayvo, standing up. ‘How about a vote?’
‘Yes,’ said Ayrmodho. ‘We shall vote.’
Eslayvo asked those who supported Ayrmodho to raise their hands. All of Ayrmodho’s thanes did, as did Ayrmodho himself, but they made up only about a third of the room. Then Eslayvo asked those who opposed him to raise their hands likewise, and the remaining two-thirds did.
‘No,’ said Ayrmodho. ‘The vote was unfair. That man there raised both his hands.’ He pointed to an elderly fellow at the back of the room. ‘Cut them off.’
The man’s hands were cut off.
‘Now, let us try again.’
Eslayvo conducted the vote again, and although fewer people voted against Ayrmodho, they still had the majority.
‘No,’ said Ayrmodho. ‘That woman held up her son’s hand. That is against the rules. Cut them off.’
Both the woman and her infant son lost their hands.
‘Now, let us try again.’
Then Eslayvo conducted the vote once more, and though Ayrmodho gained no favour, his opposition had diminished sufficiently to give him the victory.
‘As I thought,’ he said. ‘I am the one we all want in charge.’
Then he dismissed the household and took control of Bealnew.
The following days saw many of Solvega’s supporters expelled from the town, or from Eylavol entirely, so long as they were fortunate enough not to be killed outright. Most of her relatives fled southwards, coming down to Syorbak to seek refuge with the king and her husband, their kinsman. They also brought news of Solvega’s death to Rago at Fessos. The king granted the Reeveship of Eylavol to a woman named Rolkwea, another of Solvega’s sisters, although she held it in exile.
With his dominance soundly asserted, Ayrmodho convened an assembly of the magnates, where he proclaimed the restoration of the earldom.
‘Or rather,’ he said, ‘its continuation. It was never rightfully disestablished.’
The magnates accepted him as their new earl (many did so reluctantly), whereafter he travelled to Kyalannes and met Thrandeo. He acknowledged him as his overlord, as had all his fellow earls.
‘At last,’ said Thrandeo, ‘my land is one, and I stand atop it.’
He returned to Bealnew with Ayrmodho, where he oversaw another council of the earls. He said he meant to offer the kingship the same settlement he had previously offered.
‘I will have my oath,’ he said, ‘and my treaty. The king’s wealth, and the king’s head. I will accept nothing less.’
However, his fellows were not convinced.
‘It would be better,’ said Seybeo, ‘to get this resolved sooner rather than later. We now stand as one. Perhaps we might soften our demands, and thereby ensure they are met?’
Thrandeo refused, but the other earls all spoke in support of Seybeo.
‘I am your overlord,’ said Thrandeo. ‘The terms are mine to decide.’
‘Then why summon us all here?’ said Balkena. ‘Your overlordship extends only as far as we are willing to acknowledge it.’
‘What treachery is this?’
Thrandeo put his hand on the hilt of his sword, whereupon Frewdha arose.
‘What about this?’ she said. ‘Demand your oath and your treaty, and all the wealth you want, but let the king keep her head. She has not acted against us.’
‘Not yet.’
‘Then give her no such cause, and peace may finally return to our lands.’
‘And you have two kings’ skulls above your door as it is,’ said Seybeo. ‘A third would be quite gaudy.’
Thrandeo grimaced. ‘So be it.’
Thus the earls agreed a new settlement, but after the meeting, Thrandeo and Ayrmodho met privately.
‘Things can yet be done,’ said Ayrmodho.
‘That they can,’ said Thrandeo, ‘and so they will be.’
Eslayvo was chosen to take the new offer southwards, but he stopped over at Fessos to meet with Rago, who was by then very elderly. He did not much appreciate the visit.
‘Why are you bothering me?’ he said. ‘I have been parted from yet another of my children, and still you harass me with your politics. Can an old man never rest? Never grieve?’
‘Soon enough,’ said Eslayvo, ‘but until then, please listen to me.’
‘Speak.’
‘I have been charged with an important task—one, I fear, I am not equipped to meet. Indeed, I suspect no one is, except, perhaps, you. The earls have agreed a new settlement by which to resolve their dispute with the king. All I ask is that you present it, for you alone yet command respect in both the north and the south. You alone can broker the peace we all so desperately need.’
‘If I do this, will that be the end of it? Do you truly believe this will see peace restored?’
‘I do.’
‘Very well. If it will spare my kinsfolk and my countrymen of further strife, I will do as you ask.’
Eslayvo told Rago the new terms, and they went together to Syorbak.
When they came before the king, Rago told her the earls’ demands, and he said, ‘If you want my advice, this is a generous offer. I understand Eylavol has turned against you, and yet they no longer ask the king to suffer any personal punishment. You should accept this settlement and put the matter to rest.’
‘I think I will,’ said the king.
‘No,’ said Yordhoa. ‘We can do better.’
‘And why should I listen to you? I am the king.’
‘Remember your father, Kara, as we discussed. Do not forget him.’
Then the king huffed and left the room.
Yordhoa invited Rago and Eslayvo to stay at Syorbak until they had come to a decision, and they both took up that offer. Rago stayed with his relatives, while Eslayvo spent his time snooping around, learning the lay of the land and meeting everyone who would spare him even a moment.
‘After all,’ he said to himself, ‘we will meet again—I will be an altogether mightier man then.’
Yordhoa summoned the royal council to consider the earls’ settlement the next day, but they could not agree. They met again the day after that, and their meeting came to much the same conclusion. This went on for another week or so, and still the council could not determine the appropriate course.
Thus did Foldea the Chancellor (Rago’s daughter) stand and say, ‘Enough of this. If we cannot decide, there is only one recourse. The matter must be brought before the rede.’
‘No!’ said Yordhoa. ‘This is the king’s decision, and the king’s alone. I will not let those smarmy connivers rule on matters so far beyond their purview.’
But despite her protestations, the council voted unanimously in favour of shifting responsibility to the lords.
‘That settles it,’ said Foldea. ‘This is their problem now.’
The king convened the rede for a petty moot later that year, and despite Yordhoa keeping her allies firmly in line, the other lords were quick to accept the earls’ settlement.
‘That which weakens the kingship,’ said Karvalo, ‘only serves to strengthen the rede.’
‘You will regret this,’ said Yordhoa, and she dismissed the lords.
Once they had all gone home again, the king came before her mother and cheerfully said, ‘I am the king. Do not forget it.’
‘Girl,’ said Yordhoa, ‘stop grinning. This is your legacy squandered, not mine.’
Then Yordhoa met once more with Rago and Eslayvo. She told them about the lords’ decision, and they were pleased to hear it. Rago returned to Fessos once more, and Eslayvo brought the news back to Norlonn.
They arranged to make the relevant oaths and sign a treaty at Bealnew in the following spring. The king arrived the day before the oath-day. She had in her company her husband, Enroko, and her cousin, Alvaro, as well as Alvaro’s father, a hearty man named Tholo, and many others besides. She had invited Yordhoa, but this invitation was refused.
‘If you wish to throw away your father’s kingdom,’ she had said, ‘throw it away yourself.’
On the other side, Ayrmodho was hosting, and only Thrandeo joined him. None of the other earls were present, for he had forbidden it.
As the king approached Bealnew, Thrandeo and Ayrmodho came outside to welcome her.
‘Look at her,’ whispered Ayrmodho. ‘What a paltry girl. That is no king.’
‘Lay your pride aside,’ said Thrandeo, ‘and look at the thanes behind her. Even feeble arms can kill.’
‘I suppose so.’
Now the king came forth, lowered herself to her knees, and greeted them with a bow.
‘My friends,’ she said, ‘I am glad we have come together to lay our quarrels aside at last. May the coming days be fruitful.’
Thrandeo scoffed. ‘You are glad? Glad for what? Glad for the slaughter of my people, that they have suffered through years of hardship? Their blood is on your hands, the hands you inherited from your father, the hands he inherited from his, the hands that killed my kith and kin. There is no cause for gladness here.’
The king tried to apologise for upsetting him, but Tholo came to her side and picked her up off the floor.
‘Up,’ he said. ‘Grant this man no more respect than he would grant you, and do not bow to him again, not unless he bows first.’
‘This is my land,’ said Thrandeo. ‘I will not be bowing.’
Then he spat on the floor and went inside.
Ayrmodho brought the king and her company into Bealnew. They were put up in his house, but their horses were stabled down at the edge of the town.
That evening, Ayrmodho invited his guests to join him for dinner. He sat at the middle of his high table, and Thrandeo sat at his right. Next to him was his eldest son, Osfero, and beside him were Eslayvo and Gaydeno, Ayrmodho’s choicest friends. At Ayrmodho’s left was the king, then her husband, Enroko, then Tholo, and Alvaro was on the other end. No one had much to say, except Enroko. He was still of largely boyish temperament, and Ayrmodho had been very generous with the drink.
‘Lay off it,’ Tholo whispered to him. ‘This is no time for guzzling.’
‘It is always time for guzzling!’ said Enroko. ‘But alas, my wife seems not to agree.’
‘What do you mean by that?’ said the king.
‘As far as pleasures go, you are quite the stingy woman. Have you never eaten a parsnip?’
‘Like I would eat yours. I should divorce you for saying that.’
‘Maybe you should, but will you?’
‘Maybe I will.’
Now Tholo clumped Enroko’s head and took away his cup. ‘You have had quite enough.’
‘No!’ said Enroko. He threw himself over the table to reclaim it, but the king pulled him back into his seat, and Tholo pushed him likewise. Then he let up a piercing wail. ‘My life! My love! My cup!’ and ran squealing from the hall.
Tholo went after him, and the king left alongside Alvaro shortly thereafter, each dearly ashamed of Enroko’s poor behaviour. They caught Enroko outside, dragged him to their bedroom, and threw him onto his bench.
‘Boy,’ said Tholo, ‘go to sleep.’
‘I am not so tired,’ said Enroko.
‘Then you will lie here until you are.’
Enroko tried to stand up again, but Tholo pushed him down.
‘Sleep!’ he said.
Enroko closed his eyes and fell asleep at once. Alvaro and the king went to bed shortly thereafter, while Tholo sat down to keep vigil, just in case. He was, however, no youthful man, and he fell asleep likewise.
Late in the night, Enroko stirred groggy from his bench. He crept over to the king’s bench—they never shared a bed—and stood above her.
‘Dim-eyed doe,’ he said. ‘Why will you not love me?’ He stroked her cheek. ‘I am your husband. I am yours, as you are mine. Why do you deny me?’
Then he snuck out of the room, but as he walked away from the door, he saw Thrandeo and Ayrmodho leading a whole throng of warriors into the hall, all armed and armoured. Alas, they saw him too. Enroko tried to run, but he remained so muddled from the evening’s drinking that he tripped over his own foot and fell upon the floor. Only a moment later, Thrandeo appeared above him and stabbed him in the neck.
‘Aiee!’ he said, and then he died.
Thrandeo said, ‘Lads, with me!’ and he led his thanes into the room where the king was sleeping. There they found her half-dressed and halfway through the window, Alvaro pushing her through from below, and Tholo awaiting them in the doorway—Enroko’s death cry had awoken them all.
‘Sod off!’ said Tholo, swinging his axe.
‘Sod off yourself!’ said Thrandeo, and then they fought.
And though Tholo fought hard and well, he was but one man against many, and he was slain. Alvaro got the king out of the hall and turned back to avenge his father, but Tholo said with his dying breath, ‘The king! The king!’
Alvaro knew then that his vengeance would have to wait. He put out his arms and sprang through the window, swords and spears biting at his heels. He and the king snuck through the shadows of Bealnew, and despite the uproar, they got themselves to the edge of the town unseen. But as they came into the stable where their horses were being held, they spotted Thrandeo leading his followers down the path towards them.
‘Get atop your horse and go!’ said Alvaro. ‘I will hold them off.’
‘I will not leave you behind as well,’ said the king.
‘If you are to live, you must.’
‘They will surely kill you!’
‘If that is what I must endure to avenge my father, then I shall endure it.’
The king relented. She climbed upon her horse, a striking white mare named Ewva, before bidding Alvaro farewell.
‘Tarry no more,’ said Alvaro. ‘Ride on!’
‘Oy-oy!’ said the king, and she rode out of the stable as her foes came racing towards her. Though she was no stout fighter, she was a nimble enough rider, and she got away.
Thrandeo’s followers came into the stable to ride after her, but Alvaro was there to meet them. He fought his way to Thrandeo and said, ‘Scourge of kings! I will avenge my father!’
Then they fought. Thrandeo was the mightier man, and Alvaro was slain.
Thrandeo got his troop on their horses and led them in pursuit of the king. He took the bulk of them as directly southwards as he could, but he sent many others to hunt for her every which way.
‘I will have the king’s head,’ he said. ‘I will accept nothing less.’
It later turned out that only a few of the king’s thanes escaped the slaughter. There were no important deaths on Thrandeo’s side. Ayrmodho was wounded in a tussle with some of the king’s followers, but he got over that.