TORBJÖRN

Chapter 5

"Much have I fared, much have I found,
Much have I got of the gods:
What shall live of mankind when at last there comes
The mighty winter to men?"
Poetic Edda poem Vafthruthnismol, stanza 44

A few millennia earlier

Torbjörn tossed the bones of his dinner into the fire and wiped the grease from his hands in the grass. "Why have we been summoned? What do you know of these men we fight today?"

A hush fell over the group, all were eager to hear the answer. To discover the reason they would put their lives at risk on the morrow.

Ragnvalder sucked the meat from a small bone, and then stared at it while he organized his thoughts. "Did you hear what happened to Hildolf Geirsson?"

Torbjörn nodded. "I heard he was killed."

"Him and his whole family. Jarl Stigr ordered it."

Curses and angered murmurs rang out. They all knew of the unfairness and brutality of Jarl Stigr, a man ruled by his self-importance, a man wealthy enough to purchase the loyalty of his warriors. Hildolf Geirsson was a good, hard-working man.

"Jarl Stigr and Hildolf Geirsson were brothers..."

The men fell silent, knowing what Ragnvalder implied. Something that had been the topic of conversation and many arguments over the past year. Ragnarök. The end of the world. A series of events that prophecies had long foretold. There would be a great winter, Fimbulwinter; three years in which there would be no summer. And men would discard values and morality for their own lazy and selfish purposes.

And brother would fight brother.

The end would come after a great battle in Asgard: Óðinn would perish in the jaws of Fenrir the wolf, Thórr slain by the serpent Jormungand. The gods, the Valkyrie would all die. After a great fire consumed the earth, and great flood covered it, two lesser gods and a man and woman would emerge as the sole survivors.

"They had a dispute," Ragnvalder continued, "Jarl Stigr's son drank too much and killed a few of Hildolf's ewes. Stabbed them so many times you couldn't tell the color of the animal, their fleeces stained red."

"That níðingr is as cruel as his father and just as cowardly," Hávarðr, a man with more teeth than patience, spat.

Ragnvalder stared into the dying fire. "The next morning Hildolf travelled to the village to confront him. The jarl was indignant and refused to punish his son or compensate Hildolf for the loss of his animals."

"Hildolf was furious and brought his complaint to the council at the þing. The council members got into an argument, some siding with the jarl, some with his brother. The men who supported the jarl were accused of taking bribes. Much blood was spilled, the issue left unresolved.

"The next day, Jarl Stigr sent his men to slaughter the rest of Hildolf's flock. And when Hildolf confronted him, the jarl ordered him killed on the spot. Then he sent his men to deal with Hildolf's family, brutalizing his wife and daughters before setting the house on fire with them in it. Still alive."

Torbjörn's jaw ticked and his mouth formed a thin line while the others voiced their outrage. Anger at this injustice stirred the beast in all of them. He never understood men without honor, nor did he understand those who would follow one. He and his brothers were loyal to Óðinn and to each other.

"Two days later, someone erected a níðstöng just outside the longhouse. A bloody horse head sat upon the pole, a curse carved into wood, decreeing no rest for the land spirits until the jarl had been usurped and killed. Now he threatens war against the other jarls."