This wasn’t like the other killings – everyone liked Thorgeir Otkelsson, and the community was by and large horrified.* Gizur and Geir immediately swooped in from the west, took over the case, and then disappeared back, refusing to answer calls till the Thing. Panelists were selected, but all remained tight-lipped – whatever the outcome of this case, it seemed that at least one big man would be well and truly toppled.
“…And then I landed him right on the bullseye!” finished Gunnar. Njal just shook his head. “Cool though it must have looked, that’s exactly what I told you not to do. Remember? No killing twice in the same bloodline?”
“Shit,” said Gunnar.
“Which is why we need to tread very, very carefully in court,” said Njal. “Because if you break this settlement, that’s when shit gets real.”
“I always keep settlements,” said Gunnar. “But I’m going to need your legal expertise here, if the settlement’s going to be at all reasonable.”
“Oh, of course you have that,” said Njal. “Is that even a question?”
Gunnar hesitated. “People don’t seem to like me as much now,” he sighed. “The other day I saw a girl when I was riding along, and she kept hold of her bucket!”
“She didn’t drop it?” gasped Njal.
“No! They’ve always dropped it before.”
“Well, I’ll always drop my bucket for you,” said Njal firmly. “You can count on me. As long as I live.”
By the time of the Thing, the silence around the case had shattered. People spoke of nothing else, and many speculated as to which chieftain would prevail at rock-paper-scissors this time.
It was Geir. Gizur stood up in court, white as his nickname, but clear-voiced. His legalese was impeccable.
“I give notice of a suit against Gunnar Hamundarson for a punishable assault, in which he ran at Thorgeir Otkelsson in a punishable assault and inflicted an internal wound which pierced the skin, abdominal muscles, small intestine, left kidney, and intercostal muscles, nicking a rib, with the weapon coming out the back to a length greater than one foot but not exceeding three feet, which proved to be a fatal wound, and Thorgeir died from it. I call for the sentence of full outlawry without hope of parole, and furthermore that Gunnar’s property should be forfeit, half to me, obviously, and half to the family of the victim.
“In addition to this assault charge, I give notice of a suit against Gunnar Hamundarson for a wound he inflicted in a punishable assault, in which he ran at Thorgeir Otkelsson in a punishable assault and inflicted an internal wound which pierced the skin, abdominal muscles, small intestine, left kidney, and intercostal muscles, nicking a rib, with the weapon coming out the back to a length greater than one foot but not exceeding three feet, which proved to be a fatal wound, and Thorgeir died from it. I call for the sentence of full outlawry, with half his property going to me and half to the family.
“In addition to this assault charge and the charge for the wound, I give notice of a suit against Gunnar Hamundarson for homicide by means of a wound he inflicted in a punishable assault, in which he ran at Thorgeir Otkelsson in a punishable assault and inflicted an internal wound which pierced the skin, abdominal muscles, small intestine, left kidney, and intercostal muscles, nicking a rib, with the weapon coming out the back to a length greater than one foot but not exceeding three feet, which proved to be a fatal wound, and Thorgeir died from it. I call for outlawry, half to me, etcetera, etcetera.”
Gizur named his witnesses, asked Gunnar to give his name and address, then stepped down with a flourish.
“‘Kay,” said Gunnar, and the crowd gasped. Reporters swarmed him, but he repeated “No comment, no comment,” exactly as Njal had coached him.
Things lulled down for a matter of days until the trial proper began. Gunnar’s side took the north side of the Ranga court, and the prosecution set up on the south, with an agreement to switch at halftime. The oaths were sworn; Gizur repeated his long speech about Thorgeir Otkelsson’s intercostal muscles, and the witnesses testified to confirm. With the shadow of a smile, Gizur gestured at the panelists he’d selected. “Any objections?”
* No one even hit 10% Hurrahs, with the possible exception of Mord Valgardsson, though he spelled it ‘Huzzah!’
Saxo Dramaticus 