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The Saga of Erik of Rohan, Chapter Six

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Post subject: The Saga of Erik of Rohan, Chapter Six
Posted: Sun 10 Apr , 2005 5:44 pm
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Erik of Rohan, Chapter 6: to Edoras.

The fighting ended. Tostig Ulfson took his charges into the caverns where they were fed and could wash and find some clean garments. Some, like Erik, had no other clothes to wear, but he did what he might, and after eating he went out and about.

Who should he come upon almost at once, but his friends Rolf and Olaf. They buffeted his shoulder and swore they had come only to find him.

“By thunder!” Rolf said. “We hear that there were great deeds done here in the night! It is ever our fortune to come late to the party.”

But soon Erik heard of the great battle at the Fords and the long retreat to Helm’s Deep, riding and marching with Erkenbrand of Westfold, and with Ulfwine the Fair. By the fortune of war, few of Theodred’s Eored fell in this battle, and Erik was glad. To be sure, men had to fall and it was a grievous thing, yet ever better it seemed if it was not men he knew.

There was much talk of the strange doings in the Coomb, trees appearing where no trees had been before. Yet little heed did Erik pay this. Valiant men had fought through the night. Trees or no trees, the King of the Mark would have come to a bad end without the valour of men.

Rolf and Olaf were full of the second Battle of the Fords. “The troops we left, Erik, when we left with you, were in the thick of it when we arrived, none too soon. Be sure the enemy thought to cross the river at will! Though we did fall back, we made him pay. Aye, we made him pay.”

Olaf looked sidelong at Erik. “But Erik, we have ill news for you. Your home is no more, all the houses there were burned and all the folk killed, as far as we can discover. It is certain that your mother is dead, lad.”

Erik shrugged. He did not know what to say, as he could not feign grief that he did not feel. Yet it was a blow, for now all he had ever known was gone beyond recall. He struggled to find words. “I am sorry to learn of this,” he said at last. Ugly words sprang to his mind, but he understood it was not a man’s part to speak such things of his own mother. No tender memories had he of his mother, yet here he stood and she was dead and something like sorrow stirred in him.

Grima Sigurdson rode up, and beside him Harald Haraldson. They saluted Erik gladly. “Men,” Grima Sigurdson said, “we will ride this evening. Word has come that Theoden King will ride to Isengard.”

Men exchanged looks. “Isengard!” Rolf said. “Well. Well. I guess we had better see to the horses, then, before we once again take the road to the Fords.” He muttered something, and Erik thought he heard, “Are we made of stone? Is the King mad?”

Yet soon came a Captain with orders. None who had been at the Battle of the Fords of Isen would return there, they were to ride to Edoras on the morrow, they and all the others except the small troop that would ride with the King. Here were many seen to shake their heads, wondering at the seeming folly of the King.

“The comings and goings of Kings and Wizards and such folk mean naught to us, anyway,” Rolf said. “Doubtless they will not seek our counsel!”

Rolf and Olaf went with Erik into the caverns, and stabled their horses beside Ruadh. They groomed their horses and cleaned all their gear and then took some sleep, spreading their bedrolls on the cavern floor. Erik slept beside them, and he slept dreamlessly all the rest of that day and through the night.

He came slowly awake on the next morning to the sound of voices. He stretched and yawned and someone nudged him with a booted foot. “Come, you sluggard,” someone said. “If you would eat before we ride, you had better hurry!”

The caverns were still pretty full of folk. Many wounded lay there, and would for some time, and so would remain those who cared for them. Tostig Ulfson was at table when Erik came in and they ate breakfast together. Erik saw that Tostig looked weary still, and he ate little.

At last Tostig spoke. “What think you now of it all, Erik? Of war, and soldiering?”

“I do not know,” Erik said. “It is too big for me, I only know my part.”

“Yes,” Tostig answered. “That is all any man knows. But you bore you valiantly, Erik. It was a terrible battle.”

“So he said,” Erik said. “Old Gaute. He said it was the worst fight he was ever in.”

Tostig nodded. “Yes. It was. Many good men fell. My brother Ceorl is dead. My brother Ivar is sore wounded.”

“I am sorry,” Erik said. “You will stay here? You will not ride with us?”

“I will stay. And do you go? You are not a trooper yet, Erik. Maybe you will have to stay here.”

“I will not stay,” Erik answered. “I will go with Theodred’s Eored.”

Here Tostig smiled ruefully. “I suppose you will,” he said.

“I would do one thing before I go,” Erik said. “I must find the kin of Gaute Hardrada. I have his sword and I deem he would have liked it to go to his grandson.”

Tostig nodded. “I will come with you, and see how my brother Ivar fares.”

Here Erik again spoke to Tostig’s mother and father, as they sat by the pallet where lay Ivar feverish, tossing his head about on his pillow. His sister Frieda was taking her rest, and the younger brothers were getting some gear together to return to their holding.

After some inquiry Erik found the daughter and grandson of Gaute Hardrada. The daughter was a tall homely woman, but her face was kind and sad, and she took the sword from Erik gratefully. Her son, a lad of about six summers, looked up at Erik with admiring eyes.

“You stood by my father?” the daughter asked. “How did---“

Erik understood what she did not ask. “Be sure he died well. He was a valiant man.” He looked down at the little boy who had taken the sword from his mother. “See that you take care of that, youngling.” There was not much more he could think of to say.

They rode out of Helm’s Deep into the westering sun, taking the road that led them straight to Edoras, along the roots of the mountains. Here was the great estate of Ulfwine the Fair, and Rolf and Olaf had much to say of that man.

“His right hand was hewn off in the battle,” Rolf said. “And he did but bid his henchman to make a sword blade red hot, and when it was so, he put it himself against the stump to stop the bleeding. They say he made a great shout of agony, but he held it there.”

“They say he is going to have a gold hand made,” Olaf said, laughing. “And I for one believe it. I hear that the King bid him return to his hall, but he vows he is going to Edoras. That is where the goldsmiths are, he said, and he does not intend to go about without a hand.”

Erik shook his head in wonder. Such deeds as these were worthy of a song, he thought. He wished it was in him to make a song.

They rode along in companionable silence for a time under the starlit sky. The waxing moon rose. Grima Sigurdson rode now beside Erik. “So, lad,” he said. “They made a soldier of you in that place, I hear.”

Erik felt the red blood in his face and he stammered, “I did only what I could, sir.”

“No man could say more,” Grima answered. “But nonetheless you are not yet a trooper and it has been much in my mind how to deal with you.”

“I would stay with you, sir,” Erik answered. “I can help with the horses and gear, I can do whatever is needful.”

“It is not that simple, Erik,” Grima said. “I am not sure that I have the right to allow this. But these are strange days, and it seems that many things are done that were not done before. I will do what I can.”

Grima and the other men fell to talking about the King of the Mark, and Eomer Eomundson, and other matters that set Erik’s mind wandering. Erik had seen the old King, a fine looking man with white hair on a white horse. He had seen the King’s great standard, the running horse on the green field. He had seen tall Eomer.

But the doings of the great folk were far from Erik’s thoughts. He thought instead of Gaute Hardrada and Tostig Ulfson and the boys he had fought beside. Some now were dead, boys no older than he. There came into his mind the things he had seen and done in the battle. Of a sudden he felt sick and afraid. And he wondered, too, how could it be that he was here, safe, and so many lay dead? There was no one to ask, and so he went along in the dark.

It chanced that they came to Edoras as the sun set. Erik rode yet with Rolf and Olaf, among the last of the horsemen. Erik had never seen aught like this place. Speechless with amazement he rode, staring about at all he saw. He had heard that there were such things as cities, and if this was a city then what he saw far surpassed any word he had ever heard. Folk stood on the steep roads and cheered as the horsemen rode by. Some they cheered by name, and those lords raised their hands in salute. Such had been the pace of the troopers that marching men with Erkenbrand were at the heels of the last horses.

“Now we part company from these great ones,” Rolf said. “We will go to our barracks. It is long since we lay there, I tell you.”

The barracks were far from the courts. They rode in with a clatter of arms and hooves, and there were folk there to welcome them. A plump pretty woman ran to Rolf and he seized her laughing in his arms, his four little girls hung on their mother’s skirts and stared shyly about. Olaf steered Erik into the stable and then was there plenty to do, to get the horses tended to and to visit the paymaster and the laundry and whatnot.

“Tomorrow,” Olaf said, “I will take you about to some shops and you can get you some other clothes. Have you any money, lad?”

“I have the coin that Theodred gave me,” Eric said. He drew it out and Olaf whistled.

“Ever was he free with his money! This is wealth indeed, my boy. This will buy you clothes and more besides, even a decent pair of boots. Now, let us get to the bath-house and then we will see what there is for us to eat.”

The place was a-bustle. Scores of men were garrisoned here, and there were smithies and forges and woodshops and all the things needed to fit out such soldiers. Armourers, and men who made boots and other leather gear. Farriers and grooms. It took many trades to make an Eored, Erik saw. And at the end of the row, across from the dining hall, was the bathhouse, built over a hot spring that poured from the rock beneath.

Never before had Erik had a bath in hot water. He felt foolish and awkward stripping to his skin among all the others, but no one took note of him and he followed Olaf into the steaming water. Olaf ducked himself and came up grinning, and he began to scour himself all over with soap and a stiff brush. He unbound his braids and rubbed soap in his hair, and then ducked under again to wash the soap away. Erik did as he saw others do, and soon thought that the sensation of the hot water and soap was very pleasant. He got soap in his eyes and it stung, but that was his only mishap. Benches along the wall held piles of towels and Erik wrapped one around himself and followed Olaf and some others into the steam room.

Here men sat about and baked themselves in the steams that rose from the slatted floor. Erik listened to their talk, and heard nothing to do with the war or fighting. They spoke of horses and women and sport. Some of what was said made Erik want to laugh, some did not. Olaf said little, but Erik took note that when he did speak the other men listened.

Erik was reluctant to put his filthy clothes on again, after the bath and the steam. But he had nothing else. In the barracks many of the men were putting on their town clothes and preparing to go out, and some laughingly invited Erik to join them.

He was abashed and was glad when Grima Sigurdson came in. Grima wore still his riding gear; he had been busy with duties and had not had time to go to the bathhouse. Among his duties he had found time to think of Erik and now he told Erik where he was to sleep. Grooms and stable boys for the officers were kept at this barracks, and there was room in their quarters for Erik.

Two youths were in the boy’s quarters when Grima brought Erik. They sat at a table absorbed in some game but leapt to their feet when they saw Grima. Grima gestured to the bunks lining the walls and said, “Not all are used, as you can see. Blankets there are in that cupboard, I think.” He turned and left.

Erik wished he could follow Grima. Instead he tossed his pack under an unmade bunk, and took some blankets out of the cupboard. He did not look at the other boys, but he knew they were watching him.

At last one spoke. “I am Leod Aldorson, and this is Folca Fengelson. What are you called?”

“I am Erik,” Erik said. He lifted his chin when he said it.

The two boys looked at each other and the one called Folca said, “Erik? Erik who? What is your father’s name?”

Erik flushed angrily. “What is it to you? “ he said.

Leod frowned. “They have foisted some nameless hick on us, Folca. Let us show him what we think of such doings!”

They came at Erik with no good purpose in their clenched fists and frowning faces. He felt his breath come quicker. “Are these town manners?” he asked. “For two to attack one?”

“How are we to decide which one of us will have the pleasure of teaching you town manners?” Folca sneered.

“Then come ahead,” Erik said. “I am worth two such as you, any day!”

It was a brief affair. They were no match for Erik’s fury, and soon gave way. Leod had a black eye and a sore hip from being thrown against a bench. Folca tried to wrestle Erik to the floor, then felt his arm being twisted cruelly up his back.

Just then the door opened and a man came in. “Fighting?” he shouted. “You know the rules, you boys!”

Folca and Leod staggered to their feet and cast scared looks at this man.

The man looked at Erik. “Who are you, and what are you doing here?”

“I am Erik,” Erik replied. “And Grima Sigurdson brought me here.”

The man stared hard at Erik. “Well,” he said at last. “I will let you off, this once. But these two know the rule and they are not let off.” He went to the wall where a board hung with letters on it and he scratched some more alongside.

When he had closed the outer door behind him, Leod said, “You fight like a wildcat, Erik.” He put out his hand. “Cry friends?”

Erik shook hands with Leod and then Folca. “What will happen to you for fighting?” he asked.

“Extra work,” Folca answered. “They can always find somewhat for punishment. You are lucky to be let off, I tell you.”

Just then Olaf came in. “Come, Erik,” he said. “If we do not hurry, we will get nothing to eat.”

As Olaf and Erik walked to the mess, Olaf said, “A rough welcome, boy?”

“Yes,” Erik answered, “but we are friends now, I think.”

“Boys are ever so,” Olaf said. “But I think you can take care of yourself.”

The mess was nearly empty, but a servant found food for Olaf and Erik.

Erik saw that Olaf was not dressed to go out. “Do not you wish to go out, Olaf?” he asked.

Olaf shrugged. “I am weary, Erik. Those younger men, they are eager for fun, but I confess I am eager only for my pillow.” He laughed. “Once I would have been in the forefront, mind you. But I hear we are to have the weapontake the day after tomorrow and then we will ride out again, and I am too old to do all this warring about without my rest!”

Erik nodded. “I am very weary, also. And besides, I would not know where to go.”

When Erik returned to his quarters there were more boys there. He went quietly to his own bunk and sat down and pulled off his boots. Leod came over and sat beside him. “I hear you were in the battle at Helm’s Deep, Erik. What luck you had!”

Erik shook his head. He could not say what he thought, that it was not lucky to be in a battle. He knew the other boys would laugh at him, and think him a coward, if he were to say that it was an awful thing, to be in a fight such as that. He saw that Leod admired him, and envied him. At last he said, “I was there, yes. But a man fighting does not see much of what goes forth. He sees only his own part.”

“So my father says,” Folca said. He picked up Erik’s sword, turning it over in his hands. “Where had you this? It is not like the swords made here.”

“It was given me at Helm’s Deep, from the store there. There were many such, and armour besides. I guess they were from other days.” He did not like to see Folca handle his sword, and when it was given back to him he sheathed it carefully and put it along the wall at the back of his bed.

He lay awake for some time. He heard the other boys joking and the noise of their horseplay and he thought that he felt as old as Olaf. Some of these fellows were likely older than he, but he thought they were all very young. He turned on his side and faced the wall and drew his blankets up and closed his eyes. He hoped that sleep would come before the other things came, the memories of the battle, and how a man’s foot slipped in the blood, and how even the screams of the enemy hurt the ear.

_________________

Living on Earth is expensive,
but it does include a free trip
around the sun every year.


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