Glendalough Fair Read Free Page A

ground was soft and the fighting had churned it into a quagmire. Some of the men were streaked with mud where the rain had not washed it away, and others were thoroughly coated with the stuff.
    Maybe half the men were still standing. The others were thrashing and rolling in the muck, fighting with one another, fighting to regain their feet, fighting for breath. They slipped and staggered and seemed to struggle as hard to remain upright as they were struggling with one another. Swords and axes gleamed dull in the muted light, and Thorgrim could see blood on faces and arms, red and diluted by the downpour.
    He spent ten seconds, no more, looking down on the scene. Long enough to see that half the men at least were those who followed Kjartan Longtooth, and that Kjartan was himself in the thick of the fight. The rest were rallying to a man named Gudrun, one of Skidi’s men, though Skidi himself was nowhere to be seen. Sleeping off the previous night’s indulgence, no doubt. What could have started this all, Thorgrim could not imagine.
    “Come on, follow me!” Thorgrim shouted to the men behind him. “Break them up, and do it without killing or wounding any if you can!” He stepped forward, shield on his arm, Iron-tooth above his head. He shouted as he charged down the slope, a battle cry, a quivering wolf-howl that he hoped would get the attention of the combatants.
    Thorgrim hit the edge of the fight, charged into the closest group of brawling men. Came in with shield swinging. None of those in this melee had shields, Thorgrim saw, which meant they had not come to fight, and it gave him and his house guard a great advantage.
    He stepped in and the man to his left slashed with his sword, but Thorgrim caught it on the shield, the steel of the blade ringing on the iron boss. The man staggered from the impact and Thorgrim swung his shield the other way, catching the man to his right with the shield’s edge and sending him sprawling in the mud.
    “Put up your sword! Stop this foolishness!” Thorgrim shouted and the man, drenched and exhausted, nodded dumbly as Thorgrim plunged further into the fight.
    A battle ax came swinging through the press, appearing as if by magic, and Thorgrim managed to get his shield up in time to stop it. He felt the blade dig into the wood and he twisted the shield hard. The motion jerked the ax from its owner’s hand and Thorgrim smacked the man hard with the flat of his blade, and as he swung he felt his feet coming out from under him.
    With a curse he went down, bracing for the jarring impact with the ground, but it felt rather like dropping onto a pile of furs. He felt the mud grabbing at him but his eyes were up and he saw a sword coming down. He lifted his shield in time to take the blow, half sat up and swung his blade at the man’s legs. Again he hit with the flat of the blade and that was enough on that slick field to trip his assailant up.
    Thorgrim stood as the man fell, using his shield as a prop to help him to his feet. Another warrior was ranging up in front of him and Thorgrim, now aware of what an ally the mud could be, pushed the man and watched him fall backwards.
    This is madness , Thorgrim thought. There was no animosity in the men he was fighting, none that he could see. No reason for the fight. They were just worked up into a rage, all the frustrations and anger of the winter pent in the longphort coming out on this field of battle. It was like a brawl in a mead hall writ large. He had seen sharks frenzied in the same way.
    Someone was charging up on his side and he turned his head in time to see Godi grab the man and lift him bodily, one massive hand on his neck, the other grabbing his crotch. He hefted the shouting, flailing warrior over his head and flung him into a knot of fighting men and they all went down in a heap.
    Further to his right Thorgrim could see Starri Deathless hurling himself into the fight and knew there was trouble there. Thorgrim wanted the fight