“The only men present were those accused,” Svanhild’s voice rang out, high and girlish. “They spoke of what Ragnvald says. I will swear to it.” Her eyes blazed at Solvi.
Solvi edged closer to Ragnvald. “And I will deny it, and so will your stepfather. Your sister will be shamed, and you will owe a greater amount than you can ever repay,” he said quietly. “Do not make her do this.”
Ragnvald drew away from him again. “Surely you know already that no one can make my sister do anything.”
“Yes,” said Solvi. “But for a brother she loves . . .” He wanted to shake Ragnvald. He had seen a chance of winning Svanhild’s affections again. She had liked him very well the day before, without disdaining his height, or the scarred legs that made him so short. She could like him again, this bold and pretty girl.
This would not go well for Ragnvald, and Svanhild would never forgive Solvi if he called her liar in front of all the men of her district. Ragnvald looked like a ship’s pilot caught between rocks and a heavy sea. His brows were drawn together; under them, his eyes were worried. He stepped toward Hrolf with his hand outstretched to take the speaking stick from him, but stopped. He glanced at Solvi, then Svanhild, then back to Solvi again. Svanhild opened her mouth to speak, and Ragnvald stepped forward.
“I withdraw my accusation,” said Ragnvald, finally, to Solvi. “I accept the payment Hrolf set.” He turned to Olaf. “I will still have my land. Unless you want to withdraw the promise you made to my father.”
Solvi breathed out a sigh of relief.
“I do not accept,” said Olaf. “Let the lying girl testify, let all know what a worthless son Ragnvald has been to me. I want payment for this insult. The land will never be yours. It will belong to my sons, Sigurd and Hallbjorn. I was the one who held the land when your father could not.”
“My father’s bones lie in that land. It is mine,” said Ragnvald angrily.
“Let the land be forfeit, then,” said Hrolf. He was friends with Olaf, Solvi remembered. He and Olaf had arranged the betrothal between Ragnvald and Hilda, and now they would both want it called off.
“I withdraw my accusation,” said Ragnvald again, his eyes blank with fear.
“It was spoken,” said Olaf. “I demand payment.”
“It was spoken,” said Hrolf. “Let Solvi’s payment for the injury go to Olaf Ottarsson, and let Olaf keep his land for his sons. He has earned that much.”
“I do not agree to this,” said Solvi. He had already regretted his father’s alliance with Olaf, and this was too much, that Olaf should be paid for being too cowardly to kill Ragnvald himself.
“It is true that a spoken insult is not the same as an insult wound,” said Hrolf. “Let Olaf be paid a third of Solvi’s price, and Ragnvald be paid nothing. Does that serve?”
Olaf looked like he did not know who he hated more, Ragnvald or Solvi, and Ragnvald appeared to have a similar conflict of mind. Solvi had not thought they looked anything alike until that moment of offended dignity.
Solvi glanced at Svanhild. Hrolf had overstepped himself; this was needlessly cruel to Ragnvald. “Ragnvald deserves his payment for his injury,” said Solvi. “And I have nothing to say about this business of land. It seems ill-done that a boy should lose his father’s bones over a hasty accusation.” The time for winning grins was over, even if he could muster one. “Property disputes are heard tomorrow, are they not? You are law speaker here.” A murmur of agreement sounded from the assembly. “Is this done now?” he asked wearily.
“Then let these be the terms,” said Hrolf. “Ragnvald must render to Olaf a third of the payment he receives from Solvi. The rest he may keep.” Ragnvald clenched his teeth so tightly Solvi thought he might break one.
“Do all agree?” Hrolf asked again.
The jury all raised their hands in agreement.
Ragnvald and Olaf nodded, each wearing the same sullen expression.
“Are you satisfied?” asked Hrolf again, in a tone of voice that said Ragnvald had better be.
“I am,” said Ragnvald. He bowed his head and spoke the formal words: “I swear to accept this verdict, in the name of Tyr, the giver of laws. I will seek neither blood, nor further payment in recompense for this crime.” He gestured to the red seam on his cheek.
Solvi’s sympathy swung briefly back to Ragnvald. At least he had a reason to feel wronged. And had the dignity to employ the proper formula, while Olaf still looked angry enough to spit nails.
“What of my father’s land?” Ragnvald asked Hrolf. “You do ill to try to give that away.”
“We will settle that tomorrow, when disputes of property are heard,” said Hrolf.
“Come,” said Solvi to Ragnvald. “I will discharge my debt.” Ragnvald followed him out of the ring.
*
Solvi walked ahead of Ragnvald, self-conscious about his limp, until his men fell in around him, forming a protective wall. They could keep physical threats off him, but could not advise him how to proceed here. Solvi bid his men stay outside the tent to give him privacy.
It was a small tent, the same one that he pitched against his ship’s mast to keep out of a storm. It could be carried by a single horse. Inside was tall enough for him to stand up, while Ragnvald was forced to stoop. If Solvi had come as his father’s representative, he might have brought a larger one, but he came for himself, because the trials entertained him. And, it seemed, because his fate, his wyrd, had drawn him here, to Svanhild Eysteinsdatter. Or Ragnvaldssoster, he thought, smiling to himself.
“I have a ring like the one you should have won in the race,” said Solvi. “It is worth more than the weight of silver imposed in Hrolf’s sentence.”
Ragnvald had been shifting from foot to foot. Now he burst out, “I don’t understand you.”
Solvi suddenly felt ages older than Ragnvald, though only five years lay between them. Ragnvald had behaved like a fool today. Solvi wished he had never heard of Ragnvald or his stepfather.
“Understanding was not part of your payment,” he said. Here was an opening. “But if you like, consider my . . . generosity a payment for your good opinion. Tell your sister you and I have come to an accord. Tell her she has nothing to fear from me.”
“You think you can buy her acceptance? Of you?” Ragnvald asked.
Solvi pulled the thick band of yellow gold from his own arm and tossed it to Ragnvald. “Will that do?”
“It’s enough for me. I had not that much beauty to lose.” Ragnvald held the gold, and stroked it with his thumb. “I will tell my sister what you’ve done, and why,” he said, quirking the unwounded corner of his mouth. “That is all I can promise.”