BooksBarbecue
Back A Night of Flames
Chapters (76)
  1. Cover
  2. Praise forMATTHEW HARFFY
  3. BY MATTHEW HARFFY
  4. Title Page
  5. Copyright
  6. Dedication
  7. Maps
  8. Epigraph
  9. Contents
  10. Place Names
  11. One
  12. Two
  13. Three
  14. Four
  15. Five
  16. Six
  17. Seven
  18. Eight
  19. Nine
  20. Ten
  21. Eleven
  22. Twelve
  23. Thirteen
  24. Fourteen
  25. Fifteen
  26. Sixteen
  27. Seventeen
  28. Eighteen
  29. Nineteen
  30. Twenty
  31. Twenty-One
  32. Twenty-Two
  33. Twenty-Three
  34. Twenty-Four
  35. Twenty-Five
  36. Twenty-Six
  37. Twenty-Seven
  38. Twenty-Eight
  39. Twenty-Nine
  40. Thirty
  41. Thirty-One
  42. Thirty-Two
  43. Thirty-Three
  44. Thirty-Four
  45. Thirty-Five
  46. Thirty-Six
  47. Thirty-Seven
  48. Thirty-Eight
  49. Thirty-Nine
  50. Forty
  51. Forty-One
  52. Forty-Two
  53. Forty-Three
  54. Forty-Four
  55. Forty-Five
  56. Forty-Six
  57. Forty-Seven
  58. Forty-Eight
  59. Forty-Nine
  60. Fifty
  61. Fifty-One
  62. Fifty-Two
  63. Fifty-Three
  64. Fifty-Four
  65. Fifty-Five
  66. Fifty-Six
  67. Fifty-Seven
  68. Fifty-Eight
  69. Fifty-Nine
  70. Sixty
  71. Sixty-One
  72. Sixty-Two
  73. Author’s Note
  74. Acknowledgements
  75. About the Author
  76. An Invitation from the Publisher

I have never seen a fatter man than King Hjorleif Hjorsson. He was famed for his lust, gaining him the epithet of “Fornicator”, but it seemed that his other appetites were just as insatiable. His oaken chair seemed built for a giant. It was twice as broad as even a large man would need. It would dwarf Runolf, but King Hjorleif’s broad thighs rubbed against the arms that were carved into sinuous lines of interlocking shapes and what looked like snarling wolves’ heads.

The sight of the king sickened me, as he shovelled food into his mouth, all the while speaking, hardly pausing for breath, spattering specks of meat and sauce across the stained linen tablecloth.

King Hjorleif was in an ebullient mood. He welcomed us to his hall, and the crew of Brymsteda, tired after a long day of sailing, thankfully seated themselves at the benches, and set about devouring the food and drink laid out there. There was bread made from finely milled rye, roasted mutton, salty cod and haddock and several thick, flavoursome pottages. For a time little could be heard but the chewing of the grateful, hungry men.

I looked longingly at the provender as Mancas commanded me to interpret for him. He had the thralls from Brymsteda bring in the gifts we had carried from Northumbria.

There was a great bolt of good woollen cloth and one of the barrels of woad, and the coffer that held the silverware sent by Æthelred. A finely wrought goblet seemed to catch Hjorleif’s eye, for he ordered it to be removed from the casket and placed on his table within reach of his fat hands and from time to time he would caress it.

“These are gifts of goodwill from Æthelred, King of the great kingdom of Northumbria, far across the sea to the west,” Mancas said, through me.

Hjorleif nodded and smiled, but became quickly distracted as a new dish of pigeons stuffed with berries was carried in by a young woman who was too slow, or too frightened to escape the king’s grasp. He snagged her dress, coiling its wool in his fist and yanking her towards him. Propping her on his meaty lap, he stroked and squeezed her flesh as he spoke to Mancas. The girl’s eyes were wide and I squirmed when the king’s greasy hand slid up under her skirts and she tensed, seeming to plead with me with her gaze. Of course, there was nothing I could do for her, and I shuddered to think of the horrors that awaited the poor slave should the king decide to take her to his bed. From what Audun had said, his women did not last long. To judge from the size of him, I imagined that some might simply be unable to draw breath when pinned beneath his vast bulk.