Asgrim’s messenger bolted out, heading back to their booth at top speed. Snorri, meanwhile, ambled away casually. He didn’t look particularly hurried, but that’s because his men weren’t far off.
“Where now, sir?”
“To the Almannagja gorge. And don’t let anyone through.”
“…and then Eyjolf said the suit was invalid due to Mord’s mistake.”
Thorhall didn’t say a word.
“So?” The messenger hesitated. “What do we do now?
Thorhall slowly reached under his blankets and pulled out Skarphedin’s spear. Then, without warning, he sprang to his feet and stabbed – not the messenger, but the boil which had kept him out of court.
It exploded into a shower of pus, marking all the walls.* A yellowish river ran across the booth, and a slightly more congealed portion from the centre of the boil stuck to the tip of the spear.
As the messenger retched, Thorhall strode out of the booth without a limp.
The first man on the opposite side who crossed his path was Grim the Red, and without even slowing down, Thorhall put the spear through Grim’s shield and shoulder-blades, tossed him off, and kept walking.
Kari shaded his eyes and smiled mirthlessly. “Hey Asgrim – it’s your son.”
“What’s he doing out of bed?” sputtered Asgrim.
“Stabbing people.”
“At the Thing?”
“Yep,” said Kari. “Are we just going to let him do it alone?”
Asgrim jumped up and motioned to their army. “Charge!”
Howls rose from the men as they surged forward, Flosi’s group eagerly meeting them.
Kari was off the leash. The first fools to cross his path were Arni Kolsson and Hallbjorn the Strong. Jumping right over the arc of Hallbjorn’s sword, Kari separated Arni’s collar bones. His second swing cracked Hallbjorn’s shield, but didn’t quite pass through. Hissing like a cat, he struck downwards and cut off Hallbjorn’s big toe.
As Hallbjorn wailed, Kari reached up without looking and caught an incoming spear, then returned it permanently to sender. In the meantime, Thorgeir Skorargeir reached in and pushed big Hallbjorn over with one hand. Hallbjorn had had enough. When he finally made it back to his injured feet, off he limped as fast as he could. Not to be outdone, Thorgeir then chopped Thorvald Thrym-Ketilsson to pieces with Skarphedin’s axe Battle-Hag.
Asgrim, Thorhall, Hjalti, and Gizur had gone directly for Flosi and the Sigfussons. No one was dead yet, but Team Burners was getting slowly but surely pushed back.
Now Mord and Gudmund’s separate armies arrived on the scene, just in time to take on the northern forces. Some of the defenders tried to form shield walls between various booths, but for the most part it was a brawl.
Kari was having none of this organization – he was a man on a mission. Right now, it was to kill Bjarni Brodd-Helgason, who kept dodging. Just when Kari thought he had him, someone else shoved a shield between the pair. With a snarl, Kari split the shield and also the intruder’s leg** – but as he did so, Bjarni ran.
Thorgeir, for his part, was after Holmstein Bessason and Thorkel Geitisson, who also ran, to loud hoots and jeers from Gudmund’s men.
A spear suddenly sprouted from Thorvard Tjorvason’s arm. “Who threw that?” he squawked.
“Not me.” Gudmund’s son Halldor hid his suspiciously weapon-free hands behind his back. Thorvard narrowed his eyes, but the men all round – Gudmund’s men, shrugged.***
“Remember the plan,” said Flosi, through his teeth. His men were to retreat to the Almannagja gorge, but only in an emergency. It wasn’t quite there yet, but the situation didn’t look good.
Hall of Sida and young Ljot were already retreating, though not down the same route. It was more of a regroup, after Asgrim’s men had pushed them back.
“This is Terrible,” sighed Hall. “I never thought I’d see the day when there was open warfare at the Thing. It didn’t even happen during the whole Conversion incident.”
“Wasn’t that because you stopped it, Dad?”
“Not really. Maybe I helped a little, but I didn’t do nearly as much as I could have.”
“Can you stop this now?”
“I can try.” Hall furrowed his brows. “But we don’t have enough men right now to get in between them. I’ll run down to the booths and get the rest of our people, and try to rally the neutral parties. Wait for me here.”
“What if Flosi’s in trouble?” Ljot looked anxiously back at the fighting. “I’ll go help him if he needs it.”
“Please don’t,” said Hall. “You’re an adult, you can do what you want… but please don’t.”
He took off for the booths.
“Retreat!” hollered Flosi, and his men pelted backwards, through the booths at the back, to the mouth of the Almannagja gorge. To their horror, it was blocked with warriors.
Snorri was casually leaning against the wall of the last booth.
“Is that your men keeping us out of the gorge?” yelled Flosi.
“Me?” Snorri put his hand on his heart. “You wound me. It must be Thorvald Kroppinskeggi and Kol.”
“Those assholes died years ago,” sputtered Flosi.
“Oh, well in that case.” Snorri turned to his men. “Charge! But don’t give chase,” he added, in a lower voice.
“YOU’RE TELLING ME THORSTEIN’S OUT THERE?” gasped Skafti.
“Yes,” panted his man. “He’s fighting on Gudmund’s side.”
“THIS HAS GONE TOO FAR.” Skafti set off at, if not a run, then as dignified a speedwalk as he could muster. “I’M GOING TO FIND SNORRI. WE NEED TO PUT A STOP TO THE FIGHTING.”
“Hey, Dad!” Thorhall pointed. “It’s Skafti!”
“I see him,” said Asgrim. “Watch this!” He threw his spear, pinning Skafti’s calf muscles together. Cheers rang out, and Skafti’s horrified servants dragged him out of the fighting and into the nearest shelter, which happened to be a blacksmith’s shop.
Flosi’s men were well and truly running now – since the gorge was blocked, they’d turned south and were following the river. Outside one of the booths was a random peasant named Solvi, who was bustling over a cauldron.
Solvi burst out laughing. “Look at all of you, running like the rabbits in my soup. Haw! Haw! There’s Thorkel Geitisson – people said he never ran, but it looks like he’s winning!”
“How dare you!” Hallbjorn the Strong had been running for a while on an injured foot, and he was in no mood to be laughed at. Picking poor Solvi up over his head, he plunged him into the boiling cauldron, killing him on the spot.
“Hallbjorn!” yelled Flosi. “Stop wasting time! They’ve almost caught up!” He sent a spear back at Gudmund’s men, killing someone and buying Hallbjorn a little time to catch up with the group.
It was a costly choice, as another of Gudmund’s men pulled out the spear and threw it back at Flosi, tearing his leg open. Flosi fell, gritted his teeth, got back on his feet, and kept running.
Ljot and his group were on their way, but given the many changes in flight plan, they were a little too far to help. As they waded across the river, they found their way blocked by one of the random lava flows that spiced up the Icelandic map.
“Isn’t that the last thing we need,” said Ljot, disgusted. “Let’s try to pick our way across -”
A spear flew from the pack of Gudmund’s warriors and caught Ljot in the waist. He fell face-first into the lava and sank underneath it, taking with him all evidence of who the killer was.
“I see that scumbag Eyjolf!” said Thorgeir. “Get him, Kari!”
“On it.” Kari set his sights and killed Eyjolf in one shot, sending the gold bracelet in one direction and a bundle of legal twigs in the other.
That was the last blow struck at the Thing. Snorri and his men streamed in, along with Skafti (on crutches) and Hall of Sida. “Stop it! Stop it!” were the calls from all sides, and the fighters found themselves separated from each other by a bristling crowd.
A truce was hastily declared, and the bodies were carried to the church, the same one where Flosi had been given that fateful bathrobe. Both sides bound their wounds in relative silence.
Law Rock was crowded the next morning. Everyone had gathered, mostly out of habit, and a vague hope that someone would explain to them what came next. But Skafti didn’t take his place.
After a long, tense pause, Hall of Sida got up. He looked much older than he had only a few days earlier, but his voice was clear.
“EVERYONE.”
Somewhere in the crowd, a pin dropped.
“WHAT JUST HAPPENED WAS HORRIFIC. A WASTE OF HUMAN LIFE, NOT TO MENTION THE COURT’S TIME AND ALL THE MONEY FOR FINES.”
There was a great, overarching sigh of agreement.
“I’M NO LAWSPEAKER,” said Hall. “I’M NOT EVEN AN IMPORTANT MAN. BUT THIS IS A PERSONAL APPEAL, ASGRIM, AS A FATHER WHO JUST LOST A SON. SETTLE THIS CASE.”
Asgrim looked somewhat ashamed, but Kari just clenched his fist. “I’ll never settle, Hall. I know how this works. You want to balance all these men we just killed against the burning, and call it even. As if they’re even close to being the same.”
“I agree with Kari,” said Thorgeir. “You can’t just tell us to settle. It’s gone too far.”
Skafti finally appeared, somewhere in the vicinity of the front. “That’s EXACTLY why YOU SHOULD settle,” he said hoarsely. “IF you’re NOT GOING to settle, it WOULD JUST be Better For Everyone If YOU’D Died, Back IN THE fire.”
“Oh, you’re saying I ran away?” Kari glared at him. “Bold words for a man who hid behind an anvil the other day.
The warriors fought at the Thing,
But Skafti felt quite a sting!
His cooks dragged him out,
He was down for the count,
Poor Skafti missed the whole thing.”
“Excuse ME?” croaked Skafti, as everyone laughed. But Kari was on a roll.
“Njal and my brothers were burned
By Flosi, who laughed unconcerned.
The law is for fools,
We changed it to duels,
Look how the tables have turned!”
“JUVENILE,” said Skafti, as everyone snickered. “Insult Me and The Law, INSTEAD Of Coming To A FAIR AND Reasonable Settlement…”
“YeAH, yEAh, a FaIr SeTTlEmeNT,” said Snorri, of all people, and everyone laughed louder.
“QUIET,” said Hall. “LOOK AT ALL OF YOU, NICKEL-AND-DIMING HUMAN LIFE. MY SON LJOT JUST DIED, AND HE WAS WORTH MORE THAN ANYONE WHO FELL IN THE BATTLE – BUT I REFUSE TO TAKE A PENNY FOR HIM. IT’S WORTH THE PEACE.”
There was a murmur of slightly abashed approval. Snorri then stood up and made a speech that was long and perhaps excessive, though even Gizur had to admit that it was very wise indeed. He capped it off with “Come on now, Asgrim.”
Asgrim crossed his arms. “He broke into my house and ate dinner. On that day, I swore I’d never settle with him.”
“Come on now, Asgrim,” repeated Snorri.
“All right,” said Asgrim. “Just for your sake, as long as you don’t make another speech.”
“Splendid. And the rest of you?”
Thorleif Crow and Thorgrim the Tall nodded. “We’ll settle. Thorgeir?”
“I’ll do what Kari does,” said Thorgeir.
“Kari?”
Kari shook his head.
“Come on now, Kari.”
“Absolutely not.”
“But what about -”
“No!”
An hour later, Gizur sighed and looked at Flosi. “Your call, sir. Will you accept a settlement with some, but not all, of the plaintiffs?”
Flosi nodded. “Ideally there would be zero famous warriors trying to kill me, but ‘just Kari and Thorgeir’ is better than ‘half the district.’”
“What about everyone who just got killed in that big brawl?” hollered someone in the crowd, and this time Gudmund the Powerful stepped up.
“I’ll both broker and guarantee those, as long as we settle everything all together. This can’t continue, except for whatever Kari inevitably does, but you know.”
“Hear hear!” cried Gizur and Hjalti, hopping aboard the PR bandwagon. Meanwhile, Snorri and half a dozen other neutralish parties put their heads together and came up with the following equations:
if compensation = x
Let a = burners killed
Let b = anti-burners killed
ax = bx + c(ash)
Njal = 3x
Bergthora = Grim = Helgi = 2x
Skarphedin = Hoskuld
Thord = 0
Eyjolf = 0, good riddance, the weasel
“And all that remains is to solve for c,” said Snorri, just as Kari said “Wait, what’s that second-to-last one?”
“Well, you’re not part of the agreement,” said Snorri reasonably. Kari didn’t answer, but his hand tightened around his axe.
“Additionally, Flosi and the other burners have three years to leave the country,” finished Snorri. “Flosi can come back in another three years, but not Grani, Gunnar, Glum, or Kol.”
“Wait, what did I specifically do?” sputtered Glum.
“You lit the fatal match, at least, Thorgeir says it was you. And it was Kol’s idea in the first place. Grani and Gunnar are just annoying in general.”
“Hey!”
“Shut up, Grani. Better than getting killed, isn’t it?” Flosi aimed his best eyebrows directly at his co-defendant, resolving to take a different ship.
“Quite right, Flosi. Incidentally, do you want compensation for that nasty leg wound?”
“I am not accustomed to selling my body,” said Flosi stiffly.
“Suit yourself,” shrugged Snorri.
“SAME,” said Skafti, though no one had asked.
“Then all that remains is to shake hands,” said Snorri, satisfied. This resolution would be a capstone on his reputation as a diplomat.
“Wait!” shouted a voice in the crowd. “What about Ljot?”
“I waived that,” said Hall quietly.
“Ljot deserves better!” called someone else, and the crowd began to chant. “4x! 4x! 4x!”
“From whom? Nobody knows,” began Snorri, but hats began flying, from hand to hand, clinking. Within minutes, Hall disappeared under eight hundred pieces of silver.
“Why yes, I accept your invitations. And your gold bracelets.” Gudmund nodded at Gizur, Hjalti, and Asgrim, then rode into the sunset. The court annals inexplicably attributed the hard-won peace to him. It’s handy to be nicknamed ‘the Powerful.’
As everyone cheered and sighed with relief around them. Thorgeir and Kari looked at each other.
“You’re coming home with me,” said Thorgeir, and Kari just nodded.
Flosi, meanwhile, headed home, his sizeable entourage of arsonists still following after him.
“Uh, guys,” he said to the Sigfussons. “Why don’t you go to your own homes? I hear Kari left with Gudmund, so by my calculations he went off north.” This was, of course, entirely incorrect.
The Sigfussons conferred. “What if we went east? A guy owes us money.”
“A little too close to north for my tastes, but do what you want. Try not to take too long.” Flosi spurred his horse and, by way of a few mountains and a scenic route around a glacier, went back quietly to Svinafell.
In the east, a Sigfusson yawned. It caught on like wildfire.
“I’m sleepy.” Thorkel stretched, then hopped off his horse. “Let’s take a nap.”
“Agreed,” said Lambi, pulling off his helmet.
“Guys, I’m not sure if this is a good idea,” said Ketil, but he, too, yawned, and soon all the brothers, not to mention their flunkies, were snoring by the side of the road.
* Five.
** Lengthwise.
*** Thorvard never did end up getting paid.
Saxo Dramaticus 