Valknut

CHAPTER|42 Skipping Ahead II

Olaf woke with a groan. His mouth felt dry and his whole body ached. He sat up and gingerly swung his feet over the side of his bed. He groaned louder when contact with the cold ground sent sharp painful sensations up his legs. After taking a moment to compose himself, he reached across for the tally stick. In the dim morning light, he squinted as his fingers ran over the marks – one for each day since the wedding discussions with Kieran and Klaufi. 

Eleven days had gone, three days left. Olaf sighed, relieved that he’d made it this far. It hadn’t been an easy eleven days that’s for sure. His bottom ached from all the trips to the village by horse. His legs were stiff from running after animals of varying sizes. His arms burned with the continued assault from splitting wood, hammering nails and digging in the hard ground. And more recently, the unfortunate incident with the two-horned beast. He rubbed his sore ribs as he recalled the nightmarish experience. 

It had been an ordinary morning – the cheery sky had brought with it the promise of a great day. Unfortunately, not for Olaf. But he hadn’t known that as he stepped out from the castle, smiling and whistling. Albeit he would be doing his least favorite task – buying cattle – this would be the last of his trips down to the village. Eager to be done with it, he rode as quickly as his poor horse would carry him. 

By the time he reached, the market had been in full swing. Men and women crowded the streets, slowing down in front of each of the stalls to see what wares were being sold. Merchants shouted their sales pitch clearly over the din of the streets. Negotiations were underway at all stalls. He remembered navigating past the bakers, the smell of fresh bread making his mouth salivate. Then he swung left and walked past the stalls selling spices and wheat. Children running around the stalls often earned a few curses as they bumped into people. As he turned right, Olaf stopped to let a farmer pass. His horse seemed nervous in the crowd. Beads of sweat collected on the farmer’s brow as he coaxed the horse into behaving. 

As he crossed the street, his nose was assaulted by the pungent smell of dried blood that surrounded the butcher’s stall. Swarms of flies buzzed around the trussed up animals and the customers. Covering his nose with a handkerchief, Olaf walked further south till he reached the enclosures that housed cattle for sale. 

He walked past the sheep and goats, and stopped in front of the pen holding the cows. Tapping his foot impatiently, he waited for the farmer to show up. Three men sat on a bench not too far from where he stood. Lost in their gossip, ale and games they hadn’t noticed Olaf. A booming shout caught their attention, and a slight man with a tattered tunic rushed up to the pen, apologizing furiously to placate his potential customer. 

Olaf pointed to the two cows that looked the healthiest and the farmer opened the gate to the pen. Walking through, he waved to Olaf to follow. And that’s when Olaf’s day soured. Not only was he flapping his arms to shoo away the flies, he was constantly side-stepping swishing tails. At one point, he was nudged not-too-gently by a cow who had been offended when Olaf stepped on the hay she had been chewing on. But the worst was yet to come. Perhaps the cows in question had been in a foul mood to begin with, Olaf didn’t know. But when he began inspecting their eyes, ears and noses, they seemed to take offense. One snorted so hard, she left objectionable muck on his hands. 

The farmer offered Olaf a stained handkerchief as an apology for the cow’s behavior. Rolling his eyes, Olaf then ran his clean hand over her neck, back and hook bone, checking her hide for insects and skin diseases. None-too-pleased the cow seemed to sort her objections. Sweet revenge she sought, and got, when Olaf bent to inspect her hooves. One swift kick sent him flying into the wooden fencing of the pen.  

Horrified, the farmer stuttered as he apologized to Olaf. Grabbing at Olaf with shaking hands, he had sincerely intended on helping the large man stand, but his feet slipped in the loose dirt and both men tumbled over again. Laughter echoed around the marketplace as spectators watched the spectacle. He remembered the wild anxious look in the farmer’s eyes when he said “If I were you, I would march that troublesome cow to the butchers.”