Eorling Mead Hall

[Ealasaide]

The closet in the Eorl’s wine cellar was small and damp with no windows, very little light, and no way out other than through the stout oaken door that had been locked securely from the outside. What’s worse, the place stunk of rotten cabbage. Ghem guessed that the Eorl’s people must have used the closet at some point to store fresh vegetables, but that it had since fallen out of use. They must have forgotten one of the cabbages, he decided grumpily. It stunk. And now he along with his cohorts, Ulric and Withold, had been bound with ropes and tossed in there with it, elbow to elbow on the floor like three sacks of potatoes.

“Left in here to rot…” Ghem muttered. His head still ached brutally from the pounding he had taken earlier from one of the Eorl’s men, and the rotten cabbage stench in the closet had done nothing to make it feel any better. He was in a foul mood that was getting fouler by the second.

Ulric elbowed him sharply in the ribs. “Shut yer mouth,” he growled. “We’d be lucky to be left to rot. They’ve got the rope in mind for us.”

“That’s right,” agreed Withold from somewhere in the darkness on the other side of Ulric. “We don’t get outta here, we’ll be dangling for sure.”

“Not me,” argued Ghem. “I’ll go down fighting first.”

“Yeah? With what?” asked Withold with a sarcastic snort. “Yer breath? I noticed you didn’t bring yer sword.”

“Laugh it up, funny-man,” retorted Ghem. “When you’re swingin’ from the gallows, I’ll be enjoyin’ a nice pint of ale in a cozy pub a long ways from here.” Ghem smiled to himself. Withold obviously didn’t know it, but Ghem had the means to escape hidden inside his left bracer and in the hollow behind the buckle of his belt. All he had to do now was figure out how to get at them. The guard had done a disappointingly good job of binding him. In fact, the ropes were so tight around his wrists that his fingers were beginning to go numb. Ghem flexed his hands, trying to get the blood flowing through them again. He was going to need his dexterity.

“Yeah, you and yer mama’s ghost,” persisted Withold. “You’ll swing with us.”

“Shut up, both of you,” snapped Ulric. “We need to find a way to cut these ropes.”

“I’ve got a way,” said Ghem. “I just can’t reach it.” He went on to describe the miniature dagger and the lock picks to Ulric, not caring whether Withold heard or not. He’d decide later whether or not to let Withold come with him and Ulric when they escaped. He and Withold had been at odds for weeks, and it was about time that Withold learned to watch his mouth. In the meantime, though, the dagger, which could cut through their bindings like a hot blade through butter, needed to be retrieved from its hiding place behind Ghem’s belt buckle. With his hands tied behind his back, Ghem needed Ulric’s help, and possibly Withold’s as well, to find it and draw it out. The three of them soon fell into a hushed but intense discussion of how best to do that. Finally, they hit upon a workable scheme.

So intent were they on constructing their plan that none of them noticed a slender shadow pass across the keyhole as a young woman pressed her ear against the outside of the door, listening. Quickly, the shadow flitted away, unseen.

The three outlaws squirmed from their haunches on to their knees and, with slow careful movements so as not to fall, began to knee-walk toward the door. The idea was to position Ghem’s belt buckle so that the tiny spot of light allowed into the closet through the keyhole would fall on his buckle. With Withold to direct him, Ulric would retrieve the dagger. With this plan in mind, Ulric backed up to Ghem and groped blindly for Ghem’s buckle with hands that were tied behind his own back. Withold, as the only one of the three with a clear view Ghem’s belt buckle, gave directions.

“Straight back now… that’s right... I can see the hilt. Up just a bit. There!”

Ulric chuckled as his thick fingers closed around the bone handle of the delicate knife, and he grinned as he drew it out of the hidden sheath. Within seconds, he had cut his own bindings and those of his companions. It rankled Ghem a bit to wait as Ulric cut Withold’s binding before his own, but there was no arguing with Ulric on the matter. After all, Ulric was the boss. Ghem put his anger aside. There would be plenty of time later to settle old scores. For the present moment, escape was all that mattered.

As Ulric pressed his face to door, peering out through the keyhole to the wine cellar beyond, the closet fell into complete darkness. Needing no light, Ghem felt for the lock picks he had concealed in his bracer. He smiled as his fingertip grazed the one that he needed.

“All clear?” he asked as he pulled the pick from its slot and turned it between tingling fingers.

“Clear,” said Ulric. “The fools have left us unguarded.”

Ulric rose to his feet and took as step back as Ghem assumed his place at the keyhole. Ghem inserted the pick into the lock and, after only a few deft turns, was rewarded by a resounding click as the tumblers fell into the place and the lock fell open. Cautiously, he pushed the door open.

[Nogrod]

Modryth read Cnebba’s expression easily enough from a distance when the party was coming into the main yard. Something terrible had happened. She ran to meet her child with open arms and Cnebba ran to her. They hugged each other tightly falling on their knees. Modtryth could feel that Cnebba was shaking all over and he was sobbing now, after all the brave face he had given to the others. “My poor child, what has the world done now? Please, mom is here now and you’re safe and sound. Mom’s here… just let the bad things out, mom’s here…”

Stigend came to them at last withdrawing from the group and stroked their hair as he didn’t know what else he could do.

“It’s the twins… they are no more…” Stigend offered as an explanation to Modtryth. “These outlaws were responsible of it. But we caught them and justice will prevail.” With that he kneeled to the level of his wife and son and grasped them both into his arms. “Nothing will give them back. But we shall see justice done after this horrible affair. We should weep today indeed but we should always stand up against the monsters who do such things…”

Modtryth raised her head to give an irritated look at his husband. Save us your lessons on justice of the Rohanians… that was what she meant and Stigend got it immediately. He took a firmer grip of his wife and son and laid his head down towards Cnebba’s shoulder who was still shaking.

After a minute or two Cnebba was cooling down and his trembling ceased. It was Modtryth who lifted her head first and addressed Stigend:

“Let’s go inside now.” She took a tighter grip of her son and added to him: “We’ll get to our room now. No one is going to be helped and nothing made straight by lingering here at the courtyard. Now brave up my little...” She rose her head and looked at Stigend studyingly. “You owe me a couple of explanations but I think their time is not now…”

Stigend nodded and took Cnebba with both of his hands hoisting him up from the ground while Modtryth let go off him. Cnebba resisted more feebly than for real.

After they had gotten to their room Stigend laid Cnebba to the bed and leaned over him. “I think lord Eodwine is going to deal some quick justice and I need to be there, to defend the case of the twins and to see for my part that justice prevails. Now be a good boy and stay here with your mother. I’ll be back soon.” With that he kissed his son to the forehead and rose up. Facing Modtryth he frowned and took a step towards the door.

But he couldn’t leave yet as Modtryth’s eyes were literally nailing him to his place. Stigend frowned again but in the end spoke:

“It’s a court-thing. They need witnesses. But Cnebba should stay here… or if you find Garstan, maybe the kids could be together… I mean Cnebba and Garmund… I think Garmund has the tougher time of these two.”

Stigend turned away and left the room without waiting for Modryth to answer him.

Cnebba rose up from the bed and stared at nothingness.

“What is it my child?” Modtryth asked her son gently but Cnebba was if he hadn’t heard the question.

Garmund… how does he feel now? I thought Rilef was nice and friends I could have, … but they were his friends already… It’s so terrible to Garmund… Cnebba shivered with the remembrance of how the twins looked lying in the pool of blood.

Not saying anything Cnebba rose up from the bed and went to the corner of the room where his few personal possessions laid. There was a small knife his father had made and given him to his birthday a year ago. There was an old linen cloth that had belonged to his grandmother, beautifully embroidered in Dunleding-style. There were different beautiful stones he had collected from different places about… and some weary and time-beaten dolls he didn’t himself remember how old they were. But then there was the wooden knight. Stigend had carved that to him after they had gotten into the Mead Hall. It was figurine of a charging man on horseback spear laid down ready for attack. Cnebba immediately remembered how enviously Garmund had looked upon it when he had showed it the first time. That would do.

Cnebba took the figure into his hands and turned towards his mother.

“We should see Garmund. Can we, please mom? I have something for him.”

Modryth was quick enough to follow the tracks of his son’s mind and smiled frowning in away that was more than telling. She was most delighted of her son’s reaction.

“Let’s go then and find Garmund.”

As they came to the stairs they realised that most of the people had gathered into the main hall. Rilef’s body was laid on the table and Modtryth felt sick to see it laid that openly in front of everyone’s eyes. She tried to call Cnebba’s attention elsewhere but that was too late.

“Mom, it’s Rilef!” then Cnebba’s voice broke. “They’re so… dead….” Modtryth tried to hug her child gently but before she had time to come up with it Cnebba was on it again.

“Garmund is there, look there, beside Garmund and daddy! Let’s go!” With that he ran away from Modtryth.

Cnebba made himself room to sit beside Garmund. He had hidden the figurine under his skirt. After sitting down he carefully poked Garmund. No proceedings were out yet but everyone were just waiting and whispering. Slowly he drew the figurine from inside his skirt and presented it to Garmund.

“Take it. You can have it.” Cnebba said as Modtryth hurried to sit beside Stigend and made a knowing glance towards Stigend, smiling.