The Sceapig Chronicles Collection

Chapter 8

The world that Deormund considered so perfect was knocked awry after two blissful days. It is usually the way of things; just when everything appears unsurpassable, trouble befalls.

Those two days saw Saewynn accepted into the family, to Eored’s unbounded joy, and the new stag’s straightforward assimilation into the herd. The deer herder decided to delay his work to enjoy the presence of his brother and allowed himself to succumb to persuasion, accompanying the couple around Sceapig, visiting their favourite boyhood haunts and regaling the young woman with anecdotes from their youth. Amid much laughter and invigorating races on the meadow, they paused to study the rich fauna on the northern shore. Saewynn delighted in spotting an osprey and watched enchanted when it swooped to catch a fish in its talons.

“I’ll wager you’ve never seen that before,” she exulted, “admit it! I’ve brought you luck.”

What sort of luck, they found out the next morning when trouble, in the form of Lord Octric, rapped on the door.

“Where is that layabout of a deer herder?” the thegn’s son barked at the flustered Bebbe.

“I… I’ll call him for you, Lord.” She squeezed past the nobleman, noting his horse tethered to the fence and the presence of three other riders, who had dismounted and were holding their horses’ reins.

“Ay, do that and be quick about it, slattern, or you’ll feel the flat of my sword.”

Eored, from his bedroom, had heard the abusive language directed at his mother, so it was all Saewynn could do to restrain him. But being lighter and no match for muscles acquired by hoisting cartwheels, he dragged her, still pleading with him, into the main room and thus, into the sight of the young nobleman.

“My, my, what have we here?” drawled Octric, gazing lustfully at the pretty miller’s daughter. “What’s a lovely creature like you doing in this hovel?”

Eored’s rage, simmering, was about to explode, but luckily for him, his mother reappeared with Deormund in tow.

“Lord Octric! What brings you to our humble dwelling, without Thegn Sibert?”

“My father is on his sickbed.” The nobleman modified his tone because, despite his arrogant bearing, he had respect for the deer herder, to whom he had come at his father’s bidding for hunts two or three times a year since when he was a callow stripling. In those days, he had envied Deormund his strength and expertise and, above all, his free and easy life in the open air.

“I hope your father is not too ill,” Deormund said, sincerely, because the thegn and he had an understanding. The nobleman had always maintained respect and his side of the bargain.

“Not too sick. The doctor says he overindulged at the table and should soon be back to his old self.”

“I’m pleased to hear it. I expect you have come to arrange a hunt, Lord Octric.”

“Ay.”

“Well then, as with your father, you will choose a beast and I’ll prepare it for tomorrow’s sport. Shall we go?”

Deormund had not failed to notice his brother’s angry expression and how he had pulled Saewynn to stand behind him, nor Octric’s over-appreciative gaze when the woman retreated into the room, whence she had appeared. The deer herder needed no further reason to lead the thegn’s son outdoors, across to his horse.

“I’ll run on ahead, then you shall choose your game.”

Deormund set off at a fast pace across the heathery turf, Mistig shooting past him. Physically, he was in good form, for his work required plenty of exercise. Even so, he could not maintain the sprint for more than three hundred yards and began to slow. He heard the drumming hoofs behind him but was not ready for the stinging blow across his buttocks. Halting to rub his burning flesh, he glared up at the rider who had delivered the blow with the flat of his blade.

Lord Octric leered down at him, laughing mockingly. “Why are you lagging? Do you think we have all day to waste, ceorl? Now, start running or you’ll earn another taste of my steel.”

Deormund had no choice, being an unarmed man against four warriors. As he ran as hard as his body would allow, he brooded that he might have fought the lordling had he been alone—scant consolation, this idle dream of what might have been. Back to the problem in hand, he halted. A running man and four cantering horses would disperse the herd all over the isle. Nobody wanted that, not even Octric, who wished to hunt on the morrow. Seeing him stop, the thegn’s son drew nearer, unsheathing his sword, his intention clear.

Deormund spoke swiftly. “Lord, we must approach slowly on foot. You will recall how we always approach the creatures with your father.”

Reluctantly, the lordling sheathed his weapon and leapt lightly to the ground, handing the reins to one of his retainers.

“Wait here, you three. The ceorl and I will proceed alone.”

‘Ceorl’, is it? I could push him off a cliff and say he slipped!

‘Ceorl’ is it? I could push him off a cliff and say he slipped!For love and respect of Thegn Sibert, he knew that he would do no such thing; anyway, this part of the isle was devoid of cliffs.

“Steady, Lord,” he reminded him. “We’re upwind and can’t get too close. When I come alone this afternoon to catch the beast you choose, I’ll approach from yonder direction. You can see them from here well enough. Which one will it be?

“That one,” Octric said without hesitation, pointing.

Deormund’s heart sank. He could not sacrifice the new stag he had just captured with so much difficulty. His mind raced. Could he substitute it for the other, the older stag, on the morrow? Nay, the haughty swine would notice the switch. He tried persuasion.

“Nay, Lord, not good meat. You’d be well counselled to choose a tender hind for I have no doubt you will make the kill.”

“Of course I’ll make the kill, ceorl. Think yourself lucky you will not be my prey! A ceorl does not gainsay his lord.”

“My lord’s son. Your father never treated me in this way, Lord Octric.”

“Do not bandy words with me, ceorl, or it will be the worse for you! I told you, I want that buck.”

“But Lord, I strove so hard to capture it but three days ago. I plan to use him to improve the breeding stock.”

“Since you are so clever, deer herder, you can go and ensnare another.”

Deormund groaned, “Would that it were so easy! I beseech you, see there, that’s a beautiful hind!” The young nobleman’s eyes flashed and he grabbed Deormund by his arm, pushing his face to the deer herder’s. Deormund shrank from the overpowering proximity as Octric began to speak.

“Listen well, there’s only one beautiful hind that interests me on this damned island and it’s the one back in your hovel. So, heed me well. It’s either the deer or the girl—I’ll have one or the other—and maybe both,” he muttered, but Deormund heard him.

beautiful hind “Very well, you shall have the stag. Tomorrow, ride to the forest on the Ness.” He pointed to the north-east where the promontory plunged in the sea.

“There you are, that wasn’t so hard, was it? But I’ve half a mind to thrash you, anyway, ceorl!”

Again, the enraged visage thrust towards him.

A flash of grey and Mistig stood facing the lordling, growling aggressively.

“Go away, Mistig!” Deormund changed his voice to a scolding demand. “Go, I said!” he pointed towards home. The hound hung its head, tail between his legs, then, before Octric could react, bounded away to the building they had left earlier.

“Lucky again, ceorl; I’d have taken its head as swift as a blink.” The nobleman pushed his blade back into his sheath.

Fool! Had I not stayed him, the hound would have ripped your worthless throat out!

Fool! Had I not stayed him, the hound would have ripped your worthless throat out!He smiled at the thought, but should not have, because a bejewelled fist smashed into his face when he least expected it. A gem cut into Deormund’s cheek, leaving him bloodied and procuring a scar later that would ever be a reminder of that day.

Deormund was not a violent man by nature, but his stinging buttocks and aching cheekbone might require a measure of revenge. For the moment, he swallowed his pride and lied.

“Begging your pardon, Lord. I should never have contradicted you. It won’t happen again.”

“See that it doesn’t, ceorl. Remember your father is a lowly shepherd, so your lands, flocks and herds and aye, even your womenfolk, are ours by rights!”

Deormund followed the nobleman a few paces behind back to the horses. He wiped his face with his sleeve. Shocked at the amount of blood staining the cloth, his resentment simmered.

“Be sure the stag is in the Ness Woods tomorrow—you know the price of failure,” Octric leered, making a lewd, unequivocal gesture.

Deormund went to his boulder seat where he did his clearest thinking. His thoughts were in a tumult. First, he would not sacrifice his stag, but if he didn’t, the lustful nobleman would seize and r**e his brother’s betrothed. He could not allow that. Nor could he warn Eored; his brother was the most hot-headed of the three. Octric and his bullies would have no compunction in slaying a rebellious ceorl. How could a good man like Thegn Sibert sire an arrogant brat like Octric?

Desperately, he hung his head, which was the moment he saw something that gave him an idea. The thegn was on his sickbed, therefore Octric would be in charge of the hunt. Perhaps I can use the stag, after all, he thought, as he bent to pick up the smooth, round stone, weathered and deposited there by the sea. If Octric behaved as he thought, he would want to slay the stag alone, to take the glory. Therefore, he would abandon his retinue to gallop ahead on the first sighting.

Perhaps I can use the stag, after all,I know the lie of the land on the Ness better than anyone. It’s full of sinuous gills connected by narrow ‘shaws’, the ‘rewes’, or what others would call thickets. Ay, there’s just the place, though it will take careful planning. He turned the smooth, weighty stone in his hand, studying it attentively, then brought it to his lips to kiss before slipping it into his pocket.

I know the lie of the land on the Ness better than anyone. It’s full of sinuous gills connected by narrow ‘shaws’, the ‘rewes’, or what others would call thickets. Ay, there’s just the place, though it will take careful planning.All I’ll say, back at the house, is that I’m setting up a hunt the same as ever. I won’t mention any of this, not even to warn Eored to flee. I won’t, because I’ll make no mistake. Only I’ll know about this; I can practise in the morning.

All I’ll say, back at the house, is that I’m setting up a hunt the same as ever. I won’t mention any of this, not even to warn Eored to flee. I won’t, because I’ll make no mistake. Only I’ll know about this; I can practise in the morning.With that, he took out his antler whistle, gave it a blast and waited.

“You are a fine fellow. I know you would have done for the swine if he’d laid a hand on me—well, he did, but only after you’d gone,” he said to the dog, whose head c****d to one side as its tongue lolled, “luckily for us both, old friend,” he concluded, but then uttered, as an afterthought, “We’ll sort Lord Octric out in the morn.”

Mistig barked happily and, as Deormund rose from the boulder, bounded towards the house. Look at him, without a care in the world! That’s how I should appear to my family.

Look at him, without a care in the world! That’s how I should appear to my familyIt was impossible to maintain this resolution, because he walked into a heated exchange between Asculf, his father, and his brother. The shepherd had returned home from lambing, in high spirits, only to find his middle son tense and brooding.

“Ah, Deormund, thank goodness you’re back, see if you can get some sense into your brother. He says Thegn Sibert’s lad was eyeing his betrothed; she’s with your mother at the moment. I’ve tried telling him, we can’t stand up to the lords who rule over us.”

“Well, I can and I will!”

can “Keep calm, Eodred. Step outside a minute. I need to have a word with you—alone—” He cast a warning glance at his father, who shrugged and nodded.

When they returned indoors, Eored’s face had cleared of thunder. “It’s all right, Father, I’m sorry. I just lost my temper. Lord Octric isn’t like his father, but maybe he’ll become a wiser man with age.”

The shepherd bestowed his youngest son with an authentic look of respect. “Well, I don’t know what you said to your brother, Deormund, but you’ve got him talking sense, at last. I began to despair. I did so!”

Deormund smiled and settled for silence.

If only you knew what I said, Father dear, you wouldn’t be so content!

If only you knew what I said, Father dear, you wouldn’t be so content!