Ragnar the Just (Ragnar the Dane #3) Read Free

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    The first training lesson brought forth eleven boys, aged between ten and fourteen.
    “You know who I am,” said Kjartan, standing in front of the group. “This is Lini Fleet Foot, my assistant.”
    There was no reaction apart from the stares of curious children.
    “We haven’t got enough real weapons so we’ll have to use these.” He held up the wooden spears and swords, and the bits of wood he’d found to use as shields.
    “We thought we’d get real weapons, not kids’ toys,” grumbled the tallest boy. “We came here to fight properly.” The others murmured agreement.
    “Alright. But you have to start with a warm-up. Shield bind.” He directed the boys to pick up shields a nd push them against each other to get their muscles working and hearts beating.
    When they were out of breath, he threw the wooden swords to them all, which made Lini flinch.
    “They’ve got to learn to catch weapons,” Kjartan explained. “Right. This is d uckwalk cutting practice.”
    He demonstrated the crouching walk while slashing his own sword, Verrdrepa, through the air.
    “I know it looks funny but it’s bloody hard work.” He was definitely out of practice, breathing harder already.
    The boys started the exercise laughing, but soon began complaining about the effort.
    “It’s using muscles you don’t usually use,” he told them firmly.
    “When are we going to fight?” protested a couple of them.
    “Now. Pair up. The odd man out will have to take turns.”
    He walked round the fighting pairs, stopping them at intervals to adjust their posture, stance and weapon angle.
    Lini felt at a loose end just watching, but when the boys were all out of breath, red faced and sweating, Kjartan called a halt.
    “Now it’s time for a demonstration.” He threw his spare sword with a real blade to Lini, who despite only being a craftsman had learned basic weapon skills.
    “Attack me,” h e beckoned Lini, who did so, only to find his blows blocked easily.
    “Come on, give it to me,” taunted Kjartan, capering about in front of him.
    Lini attacked even more strongly, determined to get at least one successful blow in. They moved across the training area, swords clanging, Lini forced to change his tactics to defence. He staggered and fell to the ground, raising his sword to protect himself.
    “Mercy, master,” Lini quavered in an old man’s voice.  “I never meant to knock over your jars of ale. ‘ Twas but a mistake.”
    The boys giggled and Kjartan fell forward, stabbing his sword into the ground next to Lini’s thigh.
    “Pretend I killed you,” he muttered.
    “Argh! You merciless fiend!” Lini hissed, clutching his throat and rolling around in mock agony, making blood curdling strangling noises. “I curse the day you were born, you and your sons and your son’s sons and your son’s son’s sons!” There were m ore tortured groans and gurgles, until finally he went limp, his tongue hanging to the side.
    By then Kjartan was laughing so much he couldn’t speak for a minute, and the boys were much the same.
    “So wha t I was demonstrating there was - ” he began at last, but then Lini went into final death throes, thrashing about a few more times until subsiding again, with more macabre groans of pain.
    The boys burst into more laughter.
    “Er - I was demonstrating not letting an opponent’s taunts wind you up,” Kjartan said, making it up as he went along. “Are you dead now?” he asked Lini, who opened one eye.
    “Yes, I’m now ready to haunt you for the rest of your days.”
    Kjartan helped him up, chuckling.
    After tha t, the students went home happ y, pushing and shoving each other, talking nonstop about the new class.
    “That went well,” said Lini.
    “Sorry I got you on the floor. I haven’t had a fight for so long, I got carried away.”
    “That’ll teach me to fight better, won’t it?”
    They grinned at each other.
     
    *   *   *
     
    Lini remembered when he’d first noticed