‘Off the horse, Asmundarsson,’ one of the men shouted.
Einar gasped, relief flooding through him as he recognised the eyes of Branjar peering from behind one of the helmet visors. Looking around he recognised other men of the district also. He had no idea what was going on but at least he knew these people.
Up the path strode the Hrapp. Unlike the other he was not dressed for war but still wore his religious robes, along with a heavy cloak over his shoulders.
‘Well done, men,’ the chieftain said. ‘Get him over here.’
The men around Asmundarsson laid hands on him and dragged him roughly off his horse. Four of them dragged him over to Hrapp and stood, two on each side of the merchant, holding his arms and shoulders.
‘What in the name of Queen Hel is going on?’ Asmundarsson shouted.
‘Thorkill Asmundarsson,’ Hrapp said, his voice loud like he was making a speech at the þing. ‘It has come to my knowledge that there is a spy working for the Norwegian Crown here among us in Iceland.’
‘What’s that to do with me?’ Asmundarsson said.
Hrapp snorted. ‘I’m told you are the spy. If King Eirik Bloody Axe thinks he can poke his nose into our business here in Iceland then he should expect to get it bloodied. We don’t like kings here and we like their spies even less. Have you anything to say before I pass judgement?’
‘Judgement?’ the merchant’s voice reduced to a whimper. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean do you have any last words,’ Hrapp growled. His officious demeanour disappeared, replaced by naked aggression.
‘I’m just a trader trying to make a living,’ Asmundarsson whined. ‘You can’t just kill me! What about you Icelanders’ supposed reverence for the law? Do I not get a trial?’
‘Icelandic laws are for Icelanders,’ Hrapp said. ‘You are not one of us. The vǫlva has spoken and she declares you a spy in the pay of King Eirik of Norway.’
‘What nonsense is this? I was a warrior for his father, Harald, yes,’ Asmundarsson protested. ‘But that was over twenty winters ago.’
‘You’re not doing yourself any favours,’ Hrapp said. ‘Most folk here in Iceland are here because their fathers were driven out of Norway by that tyrant.’
‘Don’t you think that if I am in the pay of Eirik Bloody Axe then he will punish you for killing me?’ the merchant’s eyes were roving about, wild now with desperation.
‘This path is slippy. It’s getting dark,’ a malicious grin spread across Hrapp’s face. ‘If anyone asks we will tell them you wandered off the cliff. It was an accident.’
‘Someone will ask, I can assure you of that,’ Asmundarsson said. ‘One of my men took our second ship south yesterday. If we were spies whatever we learned has gone with him! Killing me won’t do any good. If I don’t come back he will tell them…’
The merchant’s voice trailed off as Hrapp gave a low chuckle. The sound was all threat and no mirth.
‘So we were right,’ the chieftain said. ‘Enough of this. Time for you to take a long walk off a short ledge.’
The men holding the merchant shoved him forwards. He stumbled towards the edge, finding he now stood on that tongue of rock which protruded out from the hill path over the precipice. Before him the ravine fell away a dizzying depth down to where far, far below the river boiled and frothed over the rocks at the narrow bottom. He turned back to face his accusers and they saw Asmundarsson’s face was as white as Hrapp’s tunic, his eyes wild. He looked left and right, desperate for any sign of escape or pity. The tight formation of shields and the grim faces of the men behind them told him he would find neither.
‘Wait!’ Einar cried, the hesitation that had gripped him dissolving as he realised the merchant was about to be sent over the precipice. ‘He was about to tell me something.’
Asmundarsson’s head whipped round and his eyes locked on Einar’s. His look of desperation twisted into a snarl.
‘You!’ he shouted, spittle exploding from his mouth to settle on his beard. ‘Traitor! You’ve led me here to my death! You’re worse than Loki!’
Einar shook his head. ‘I knew nothing about this…’ he said, but already the other men had formed a tight semicircle, their shields locked together, blocking Asmundarsson’s exit from the ledge. Asmundarsson had nowhere to go.
Hrapp closed his eyes and raised his right hand in the gesture of sacred blessing.
‘Oh great Lord of the heavens, Okku-Thor, God of thunder and of lightening, accept this our gift to you…’ he began to intone the sacrificial prayer.
As one, the Icelanders took a step forward, narrowing the distance to the cliff edge.
Asmundarsson let out a roar, whether of despair or anger Einar could not tell. He launched himself at the wall of shields advancing towards him. Moving with surprising speed for a man his size and age, he smashed into the wood of the shields with all his might. It was to no avail. The Icelanders crouched, locked their legs and absorbed the impact. Asmundarsson bounced off. He just managed to stop himself before he stumbled over the cliff edge.
Gathering himself, he tried again. Again the Icelanders stopped him.
Then, as one, the men behind the shields began driving forwards, pushing the merchant backwards towards the precipice.
‘No! No!’ Asmundarsson shouted as step by step he ran out of room. He grasped at the shield edges but the men holding them thumped his fingers and forearms with the buts of their spears, making him let go.
The Icelanders gave a final shove. Asmundarsson found nothing beneath his feet but air. With a final roar he dropped backwards out of sight.
For a few moments his cries receded into the depths of the ravine. Then there was a sickening crunch that reminded Einar of when his mother had dropped a handful of raw eggs onto the flat stones in the kitchen of her long house. The cries stopped, dead.
The Icelanders lowered their shields. Hrapp opened his eyes then raised them to the heavens as he finished his prayer.
Einar stared at the space where the merchant had been. He was panting, trying with all his might to blot from his mind the sound of the horrific crack of splintering bones and the impression that as the last thing Asmundarsson had done, before he fell, was fix him with one, final accusing glare.
‘Go home to your farms,’ Hrapp said, looking in the eye of each of the men surrounding him. ‘Say nothing of this. In a few days I will send out a search party for the merchant and they will find his body. They will conclude this was an accident. If anyone comes looking for him from Norway then that is what we will tell him.’
The Goði caught sight of the expression of confused disbelief that Einar wore on his face.
‘What is it lad?’
Einar’s mouth worked soundlessly for a moment, then he managed to stammer out ‘But… but if we don’t announce his death it will become a secret killing – murðer – the worst of crimes!’
Hrapp grunted and fixed Einar with a glare that made him feel like his knees were about to give way under his own weight.
‘When our freedom is threatened, boy,’ the Goði said, ‘we must do everything it takes to protect it. Including murðer. If you disagree then bear in mind that it was you who brought him here. You heard it from his own lips: you led him to his death. Now get off home to your mother.’