The Last Wife of Attila the Hun Page 8

  “Aye, but then everything happened so quickly. The horses were brought up, and then men came out, and… Or perhaps it was the dwarf. I suppose he saw the dwarf and was afraid.”

  She sighed to let me know that she was annoyed. Then she got to her feet slowly and moved toward the door. As I followed her, I saw her head turn, and I looked in the same direction instinctively and saw Gripner sitting on the long bench against the wall. He had his head turned aside, and he was holding a cupped hand over his mouth.

  I ran over and bowed low. “Good sir, forgive me. I did not see you there or I would have—”

  “Go, go,” he interrupted, and when he made to wave me off, I saw the grin that his hand had been concealing.

  Giddy with the knowledge that Gripner knew my secret—for Gripner had the Sight—I ran out and joined Mother. She was holding her hand over her eyes to shield them from the glare of the sun. “Shall I call out?” I asked.

  “No. If he had a mind to returning, he would have heard us already,” she said, turning slowly in a circle, scanning every direction. “Well, I suppose you will have to go look for him. Your brothers and the others have gone to hunt. What a pity that we have to send our guests to hunt for their own food. There was a time when we should have…” She broke off and let her hand slide over her eyes. Then she dropped it and turned from me, crying, “Go before he gets too far. Then hurry back. I told you I need you.”

  After we had settled in on our new lands, my brothers sent three of our freemen to the Franks to inform them of the incredible event that marked my father’s death and to give them the map that revealed the course to Sapaudia. One of the three, Havel, an older man, had always been particularly kind to me, and not knowing that my father had decreed that I was to quell my love for Sigurd, he had asked me whether I had some message for Sigurd before he left. Since my brothers were on hand, I merely said that I wished Sigurd to know that our new lands were lovely, and that Guthorm and I had found ourselves a secret place to the north of our hall amid the birches. In this way I hoped to let Sigurd know that our friendship was still discouraged, but that I had found a place where we might meet alone nevertheless.

  Breathless, I burst into that same birch forest now and ran in the direction of the rock-horse. With the sunlight flickering on the leaves and bouncing off the slim white trunks, the forest was dazzling—a perfect place to meet with Sigurd. And sure enough, he was there. He and Guthorm were kneeling beside the rock-horse’s head, offering him the grasses they held in their palms. Sigurd’s own horse, Grani, was grazing nearby. Guthorm was so intent on his game that he did not even look up as I approached. Sigurd did, but only to smile. Then he went back to speaking to Guthorm in his low, soothing voice.

  My heart leapt at the sight of him. My dear one, I thought approaching, My darling. But to my dismay when I opened my mouth, I found myself crying, “Sigurd, I am so afraid of the world!” And then, like a fool, I burst into tears.

  Sigurd jumped up and wrapped me in his arms.

  “I heard you this morning marching through the forest,” I cried.

  “I saw you and Guthorm hiding behind the burial mound.”

  “I thought you were Huns.”

  “Huns!” He held me back to study my face. I tried to press myself against him again to hide it, but he lifted my chin. “Huns?” he repeated softly, amused.

  “I thought you were Attila. I was going to take Guthorm and flee and leave the others to suffer his wrath.”

  Sigurd laughed and held me close again. “You would not have done that,” he whispered.

  “I fear I would have. You do not know me anymore. I have become even more of a coward since we arrived here. I think of the Huns constantly, and in my mind I am always planning how I will escape when they arrive. I dream of Attila more often than I care to admit.”

  “You would not have left the others.”

  “How can you be certain?”

  “I know you, perhaps better than you know yourself. You have a great reserve of strength. You will see that one day.”

  “Now that you have come, I will find the place where I am strong again right away.”

  Sigurd laughed. “You will not need it anytime soon. The Huns have their minds set on much bigger prey. We had news of them recently. They marched on Constantinople, taking many Roman cities along the way. Theodosius, the Eastern Empire emperor, could not stand up to them. He begged for terms.”

  “Is it true, Sigurd? It has been so long since we have had any news. We are isolated here, so close to the Western Empire that we fear they hear us when we raise our voices in song. Thank the gods that the Huns and Aetius are allies. The Huns are not likely to march on the Western Empire as long as that is the case. Did you see any Romans on your way?”

  “None.”

  By now Guthorm had wiggled himself in between us. He was standing on the rock-horse with one of his arms around each of us, leaning into us so that we had to lean toward him to keep him steady. When we saw that he was unlikely to withdraw, we sat down, pulling him down between us. He rocked from side to side, humming contentedly. I had not stopped smiling since I had made my admission concerning my fears. “You are taller than you were before,” I declared.

  “And you are more beautiful.”

  I blushed. I have Mother’s dull eyes and drab yellow hair, but nothing of her height or smile. “How long will you be with us?” I asked, eager to change the subject before Sigurd could detect his error. “You must promise to stay for days and days. Our hall is not nearly so large as it was at Worms, but—”

  Sigurd reached past Guthorm to set his fingertips on my lips. “Be still,” he said gently. “I will tell you what you need to know. Tomorrow we ride northeast to the foot of the high mountains. Then the others will turn back and Regan and I will ride into the mountains alone.”

  I gasped. “The gold?”

  “Aye, the gold,” Sigurd said.

  I had no need to hear more. I looked at my knees and brought to mind all that I knew about Regan and the gold. Regan had been on the Earth in the first days when the gods and the dwarves and the elves and the frost-giants were as common a sight as the trees. That was a dangerous time, even more dangerous, some say, than now, for the dwarves and the elves had powers, and the frost-giants were evil through and through. Alas, the gods do not take up their man-shapes anymore, and though there are still plenty of elves and frost-giants, their numbers are greatly diminished by comparison. Like my people, those left seem afraid to show themselves. And as for the dwarves, they are practically non-existent. Since they cannot tolerate sunlight, Regan told us one evening when he had come to Worms at Sigmund’s side, most of them died over the many years since the beginning, by turning to stone when they failed to return to their caves in the hills before dawn. In this way, Regan and his brothers were an exception to their race. Their maternal grandmother had been only half-dwarf, and she had passed some of her non-dwarf blood onto her daughter who passed it on to her sons. To have dwarf powers and still the freedom to go about by day as well as by night, Regan had professed, was a gift from the gods who had favored Regan’s grandmother and arranged the union in which she was conceived. It was Regan’s status as a dwarf who had not only known the gods but who had once been in their favor and could speak of their doings with authority that had endeared him to Sigmund.

  The connection between Regan and the high mountains was this: the gods once had a great chest of gold, more gold than anyone had ever seen before. But they lost it to Regan’s father in a game of dice. Knowing that the gods were more cunning than they were, and that they would not rest until they had their gold back again, Regan’s father, Heathmar, took great pains to determine where and how to hide the gold. Finally he decided to put it into the pool of water beneath the great waterfall that fell from the other side of the hill wherein he lived with Regan and his other sons. He told Andari, Regan’s y
oungest brother, to assume the shape of a pike so that he would be suited to watch over the gold. This was a boon for Andari. The dwarves loved to take on animal shapes so as to experience animal joy. There is no joy greater than that of the fish who swims all day and all night and thinks of nothing. But Andari had to take care. Just as the gods were vulnerable when they took on man-shapes, dwarves risked losing their longevity when they made themselves over in the images of animals. But the gold was safe for many years, and Andari, the pike-dwarf, came to love his watery home and his watery life even more than he had once loved his life in the hillside living among his brothers.

  But one evening, when Regan’s brother Ot had taken on an otter shape so as to visit Andari, the evil-minded Loke saw him leaving the hill and followed him around it to the pool of water. And when Loke heard Ot and Andari discussing the status of the gold, he quickly assumed his man-shape and threw a rock at Ot, hitting him dead between the eyes. Then he carried Ot’s otter body away from the pool to where the other gods had assembled to discuss their godly matters. He told them that he had learned the whereabouts of the gold, and the gods conceived a plan.

  That night some of the other gods took on man-shapes, too, and went with Loke to Heathmar’s home in the hill. Heathmar and Regan and Fafner, Regan’s third brother, were all within. The gods showed Heathmar Ot’s flayed body and told him that they would restore Ot to life only if the gold was returned to them. Heathmar, however, was greedy. He surmised that the gods had followed Ot to the pool, and now he feared that Andari, in his own greediness, might be tempted to remove the gold to another hiding place. He had long missed the gold that Andari guarded over in the pool. What good was gold, he had come to ask himself, if it could not be enjoyed? So he conceived his own plan. He could live without Ot, he told the gods, but not without the gold. Since the gods had killed Ot, they would have to pay a man-price. The retrieval of the gold and the promise never again to interfere with it would suffice. Under Heathmar’s direction, Regan and Fafner bound the gods before they could cast off their man-shapes. Only Loke was left untied, and him they sent off to the waterfall to recover the treasure, the condition being that if Loke failed, the other gods would remain bound forever.

  At the waterfall, Loke sat all night with a net casting for Andari the pike. When he finally caught him, he threatened to kill him and swallow him whole if Andari did not reveal the exact location of the gold. Andari, who no longer cared about gold or gods, was happy to show Loke where to dive. But after he had been set free, and for no other reason than to remind Loke that he was a fish who was more than a fish, Andari jolted out of the water, laughing, and put a curse on the gold. It would, he declared, bring untimely death to its keeper, whether he be god or a man. Only dwarves, who Andari still had some love for, were exempt.

  Loke returned to the hill-home of Heathmar, and while Heathmar and Regan and Fafner looked on, he removed the gold from the chest and placed it piece by piece on Ot’s otter body. Then he told Heathmar and his sons about the curse that Andari had put on the gold. He assured them that he and the other gods could be counted on to keep the promise that would buy them back their freedom, for the gold was no use to them cursed. Heathmar unbound the other gods. And after they had gone away, grumbling because Loke had permitted such a thing to happen, Heathmar told his sons that he would hide the gold himself now, and that he alone would know where. Regan and Fafner argued with him. If the gods had agreed to let them have the gold forever more to make amends for Ot’s death, then surely some portion of it was theirs too, as they were Ot’s brothers and entitled to some of his man-price. But Heathmar refused to listen to them, and when he had put all the gold back into the chest, he turned himself into a large black bear so that he would have the strength to drag the chest away. But before he could do so, Fafner drew his sword on him.

  While Regan was spilling his tears over his father’s bear-body, Fafner pulled the chest away. By the time Regan noticed, Fafner was already out of the cave and down the hill. Furthermore, he had turned himself into a huge dragon, a feat difficult even for a dwarf, and, with his great, earth-quaking stride, he was dragging the chest in the direction of the high mountains.

  * * *

  “I can hardly believe this, Sigurd,” I said. “Are you going to tell me that after all these years you and Regan are going off to recover gold that is cursed to begin with?”

  “A dwarf’s curse is nothing like a god’s curse. Regan says a dwarf’s curse withers over time.”

  “Then what of the dragon? Fafner? Surely he has not withered any. I have heard folk say that they have seen smoke and flames of fire coming from those mountains.”

  Sigurd fingered the small iron hammer, a replica of Thunor’s, which hung from a chain around his neck. There was mischief in his eyes but, hoping to hide it from me, I suppose, he lowered his head. “Regan says that together he and I will be able to slay the dragon, Fafner. Regan is old and weak now, and not as powerful as he was when the world was new, but he is still more cunning than most.”

  I got up from the rock-horse. “‘Regan says, Regan says.’ You have always believed everything that Regan says. How do you know there is really any gold at all? Your only proof is that Regan says so. If there was gold, would not someone have gone up for it long before now? Certainly Regan has told the story to enough people.”

  “Why, Gudrun, you surprise me here. Listen to yourself. You know as well as I that there is no Thuet so dishonest… Regan is the only one who has a claim to—”

  “And the dragon? Can Regan be more cunning than a dragon-dwarf who has had nearly all the years since the beginning to brood over how he might subdue his assailants? Tell me no more of what Regan says. We have enough to think of here, in the shadow of the high mountains. There are the Romans to whom we must pay tributes so that we can live in peace. And the Huns, who know no peace.”

  Sigurd shook his head. “You astonish me, Gudrun. Perhaps you have changed after all. At Worms, there were plenty of times when my plans concerned you, but I never knew you to come up against me like this.”

  I fell on my knees before him. “None were as dangerous, Sigurd. When I was a child, I shuddered each time Regan spoke of the gold and the dragon. I think somehow I knew the day would come when he would involve you with them. I cannot bear it. If I should lose you—”

  Sigurd slid off the rock, and taking my hands in his, he knelt before me. “I beg you to listen, Gudrun. Regan feels his end is at hand. He has had dreams and other warnings. Except for Fafner, who will soon be dead, he may very well be the last of his race. If he is to die in peace, with any chance at all to attain Valhalla, he must avenge his father’s death. He is set on it, I tell you. He will go into the high mountains with or without me. But he is too feeble to slay the dragon in his man-shape, and too old to change himself into any other. I must go with him. Though he is a deedless man who never took up the sword in his life, it was through his instruction that I learned to use my sword, through his reminisces of the animal-shapes that he once took on that I learned to make myself as strong as a bear and as fast as a fox and as silent as a hawk. You say your courage comes from me. Mine comes from him. I owe him this much.”

  While I listened, I promised myself to say nothing more to antagonize Sigurd, for I thought that I would rather lose him than taint his love for me. Yet, as soon as he was through, my mouth opened, and my contrary notions came tumbling out anew. “I do not believe that Regan is so weak,” I declared. “I do not believe his death is at hand. He is a dwarf, one who can tolerate sunlight. He is using you, Sigurd. After you slay the dragon, he will slay you and take the gold away for himself.”

  Sigurd laughed. “The man who slays me will have to be a better man than I am. Regan will not be the one.”

  His laughter brought me back to Worms, to an afternoon that we had spent casting spears in the pastures. Sigurd had me hurl his spear at him, and then he caught it in mid-air wi
th a backhand motion and swung his arm in such a way that the spear was brought up in one movement and ready to be cast back. We did this over and over, until Sigurd could do it with his eyes closed just by listening to the sound of his spear slicing the air. I had not wanted to cast spears at Sigurd, for naturally I was afraid that he would miss just once and be taken from me by my very own hand. But he had laughed when I argued with him, just as he was laughing now. And eventually I gathered my courage and trust in his spear-skill and cast the first spear. When I saw with what ease he caught it, I was ashamed that I had failed to match my confidence in him to his own from the onset.

  “Why must you risk your life for gold?” I mumbled.

  “All men want gold.”

  “Why?”

  His eyes flashed. “Remember, Gudrun, that the Franks were also conquered by the Romans, and though they did not turn the Huns on us and wipe us out, many of our tribesmen were taken away to live as Romans and march in their armies. Gold buys power. It buys men. And here is something more for you to think about, Gudrun, my love. If I return with the gold, I will be able to buy you.”

  “Buy me?”

  Sigurd fell back on his heels and pulled me down beside him. “When I come back with the gold, smeared with the dragon’s blood, do you think your brothers will continue to find reasons to keep us apart? No, they will want us to marry then as quickly as possible. The Franks and the Burgundians will be as one in power and wealth.”

  This was something that had not occurred to me before. The notion of being able to marry Sigurd and the conviction that the gold was still cursed, no matter what Regan said, scrambled about in my mind together and left it a field of chaos. “What do my brothers say?” I asked.

  Sigurd laughed. “They are pleased, of course. I have not talked to them about our marriage yet, but it is there, said or unsaid, as it has always been. Surely it has occurred to them that if I succeed in this venture, I will pay a handsome bride-price for you. But your brothers are not fools. Now that I have informed them of my plans, they want to ensure my loyalty to them whether I marry you or not. The cunning Gunner has requested that tonight I become one with him and Hagen, a brother in blood.”