The Silver Goblet

Ulv knew what he had to do, just not how to do it.

Leaving the house, and Father by the door, he could not bear to look behind. Father had told him he would not make it in the world of the Norse warriors. Ulv would prove him wrong. Had to prove him wrong.

It was rumoured that Sigurd Jarl was looking for men. The problem was the Jarl was looking for fighters, not someone with Ulv's skill set. So, Ulv had to convince him. That was the situation. Plain and simple.

Oh, how he wanted to turn back and ask Father's advice. But, no, he had to work this out for himself. He carried his unstrung bow in his left hand and a quiver with twenty arrows on his back. From his belt hung a seax, the long knife Father had given him as a Jol gift. Inside his shirt, he kept a pouch with three bowstrings and a small purse with a few bits of silver. His backpack contained a cloak, a wooden cup, an old shirt and an empty waterskin. It was not much, but it made him feel like a man. Ulv patted the seax and picked up his pace. He was doing this!

Half a day later, Ulv reached a fork in the road. On a large stone sat an old man, resting his gnarled hands on a birchwood staff. He squinted at Ulv.

'Where are you going, boy?'

'I don't know yet,' Ulv said, unable to come up with a less honest reply.

'Those are often the best journeys, my son,' the old man chuckled. 'As you grow older, you will find yourself rushing towards too many destinations, ever missing out on the experience.'

'Is that so?' Ulv said.

'And then you'll find that a small choice or an even smaller coincidence changes your life forever.'

'Right.' Ulv studied the man for a moment before he started to move again. 'Have a nice day.'

'You too, young man. Be careful out there. There are a lot of men looking for trouble, with Sigurd Jarl and Hundolf, the Jarl of Gaular, feuding.'

That stopped Ulv in his tracks. He turned to face the old man. 'Why is there a feud?'

'Oh, that's beyond me. I am not sure even the Jarls remember any more. Hundolf is always looking for trouble, it seems. As rumour has it, he made some vile remarks about Sigurd's choice of bedmates, and then Sigurd barked back. Soon, barks turned into snarls, and snarls turned into bites. And when the dogs bite, someone will get bitten.'

'I see,' Ulv said, while he pondered this new information.

'Uh-oh!'

Ulv came out of his musings with a start and looked around in every direction. 'What?'

'You had that faraway look in your eyes. That look young people have before they do something stupid.'

'Oh, I thought ...' Ulv glanced back at the old man. 'I thought ... Never mind.' He turned once more.

The old man chuckled until Ulv was out of earshot.

Finally, Ulv had a plan. He changed course and set off towards Hundolf Jarl's farm. At sundown he lay in the tall grass on a hill overlooking the large farmstead. The longhouse was surrounded by a hen house, a bathhouse, a smithy and other buildings. Thralls and servants scurried about, carrying firewood and water, working the fields and gardens. While waiting for nightfall, Ulv turned on his back, stared at the sky and considered his options.

Ulv decided to take a patient approach. He wanted to observe the farm after dark, too. Soon, the areas around the buildings were lit up by torches, and men filed into the longhouse. Thralls came and went carrying buckets and troughs. Some men came out to relieve themselves, talking and laughing ever louder into the night. Ulv waited until most of them had left with unsteady steps, and the torches went out. Stealing away from the farmstead, Ulv found a spruce with low branches and crept under. He curled up under his cloak and fell asleep.