The Seal(98)

After that both sides struggled and the sound of it together with the sounds of the animals fretting and kicking at their fetters journeyed outside where a squall swung them around the stables and brought them to the house, where, upon the threshold there lay the bodies of the three – the woman, the child, the old man – and the dog that fed upon their carcasses.





41


THE SLAYING OF THE WOLF

Then comes Odin’s son Vidar to fight with the foaming wolf

Poetic Edda: VÖLUSPÁ (The Wise Woman’s Prophecy)


The battle was long and hard. The animals kicked and neighed and bleated and whined in their cribs and the wind howled and threatened to tear off the roof. The world was moving in a heartbeat, this way and that. A blur of sword thrust and sunlight, married to grunts and the sound of steel coming together.

Etienne fought with his newly mended body tight and obstinate and his mind shut up inside it as if it were a prison, since he must not let it fall out of itself into rage . . . not yet. Marcus, on the other hand, was all fluid movement and strength of will; a butcher in the eyes, with a fondness for hatred that made him seem like two men. Moving nimbly from one foot to the other, swinging his blade this way and that, he called out to Etienne with a mock-full laugh: ‘You are God-filled and old, my friend, while the Devil makes youth grow in my veins!’

Etienne forced his mind to come together; these were Marcus’s methods – the taunts, the pretty dances were a prelude to his slaughtering. All the while he would be watching Etienne’s eyes, seeking to anticipate their observation so that when Etienne was set to make his move, Marcus would be ready with an elegant sidestep while his other hand would run Etienne through with the knife at his belt. Marcus too had a knowing of Etienne’s fighting ways and would be looking for them; this he would use to his advantage. He held steady his foe’s gaze, and was not wasteful in his movements, letting the man opposite prance his prances. In the meantime, beneath Etienne’s thoughts, his legs shook with fatigue, his side made its complaints, his bones were white and heavy and creaked in his skin.

Around them the others grunted and clashed and thrust out in the birthing light. Etienne saw it from the corner of one eye, with the other locked on Marcus, smiling again, since there was something in that eye – the man was growing impatient. If Etienne wished to surprise him, he would have to make his move ...

... Now!

No sooner had he thought it, than his head was thrust back and his arm made as if to lunge. Marcus was quick, his smile pulled higher, and he made his parry to Etienne’s right while the other hand, having made a swift grab at the knife in the belt, was coming up in an arc. But Etienne was not where he should have been, since he had not followed through but instead had swerved to the left, curving his body around his foe so that by the time Marcus realised it, Etienne was behind him with the skull dagger pointed to his shoulders. Time stood still and an image of the old man, the woman, the child, came into his mind, and with it a resolve.

Again!

He shouted it and sank the blade between the bones, parting muscle and tissue, causing blood to spurt ahead of it like a herald of death.

After that he stood a while over Marcus before putting his boot into that back and pulling out the blade. He rolled him over and looked into the face. ‘Speak now!’ he told him. ‘I have seen you before, Devil, at the house of the Order near where Dagobert was killed. Speak now!’

Marcus gave a blooded smile and said to him, ‘I shall see you . . . in the underground cave!’ And with that what had occupied Marcus’ soul departed and the face softened and what was left looked him in the eye. He seemed to be summoning what strength he had to say something. When it came it was like a rush of air.

‘I die!’

Afterwards his face was more still and peaceful than Etienne had ever seen it since Acre.

When Etienne finally looked around he saw a world in ruins. The Norman lay, run through the middle, near the animals. The Catalan was yelling and cursing in his language and on a rampage of hacking off the sacs of the enemies.

Etienne did not let Delgado touch Marcus.

He went to the house and found the wolf tearing at the bodies of the Jews. He killed it by putting a knife to its throat. After that he thrust a boot into its jaw and tore it apart, dragging it to the field.

They buried Marcus, the old man, his daughter-in-law and her child next to Gideon in a little plot behind the house. Etienne, with his heart emptied and slow-beating, said his prayers at the graves, commending the souls of Marcus and Gideon into God’s care, and asking Michael to intercede on behalf of the three Jews who were good kind people and had helped him in his need.