Cursed Blessings

Chapter Two

Chapter 2

         The celebrations lasted long into the night.  The two kings talked on many different subjects.  Sigmund learned that Thorgrum was a king who had high hopes for the people of both the Northern and Southern Kingdoms.  And Thorgrum came to the understanding that his northern counterpart was hoping to retire from warfare, take a wife and start a family despite the fact that he was older than most men when they started their families.
                This bit of information kindled a spark in the eyes of the host.  His plan may be of use after all.
                The news he had received of his neighbor throughout his campaign to unite the Northern Territories proclaimed him to be a man with the wrath of Odin and the war hammer of Thor.  What was never reported was that his war lust was righteous and that his power was more than physical.
Some time during the night the goings-on inside joined the festivities outside.  The brave combatants rode their horses through the streets in parade fashion while being cheered by the young men who dreamed of the day when they would become warriors.  And they gave attention to the calls of the women who would satisfy the needs of men who appeared to have no fear.
                Thorgrum and Sigmund rode side by side at the rear of the column each with a hand on the Hammer of Thor.  This held a symbolic meaning.  The Hammer, being an instrument of war for the God of War, held by two leaders meant they were at peace.
                                                                    *  *  *
                Sigmund awoke the next morning to the beating of a drum that he wished would stop.  It didn't take long for him to realize that it was no drum at all.  His head was punishing him for drinking too much mead.  He was, however, thankful for the lack of windows in his chamber and the pile of soft furs that made his bed.  The only light in the room was soft and came from a beeswax candle mounted on a sconce next to the door.  A slight series of taps alerted him to the presence of a trusted soul outside of his door.  The first knock he ignored knowing that another would follow every few minutes until he answered.
              "At least someone had their senses about them last night," he thought as he threw the blankets off and moved to dress himself.  As he was grabbing his boots the second series of taps, slightly louder than the first, echoed softly through the room.
              "Come Groud," he answered as he sat to pull on his boots.
                Groud's father had been a druid and his mother was still the healer of the village he grew up in.  He knew much about herbs and the simple incantations to ease the simple pains at hand.  Because of this, Sigmund knew that he would have some concoction to ease the pounding in his head.
                "How goes it, Sire," Groud asked softly as he closed the door behind him.
                "It pounds like the drum to an endless song," he replied.  "I was hoping you would have brought some remedy with you."  He pointed to the pouch Groud carried with him everywhere he went.
                "Since we are not on the battlefield," he began, "I thought you could wait for water to be boiled for some tea.  It would be more effective.  The chamber maids should be here in a moment."
                "That will ha...," was all he had time to get out before the door opened slowly, revealing a beautiful young woman who could be no more than twenty summers.  Her hair flowed over her amply supple breasts and down her back, ending at her waist.  It reminded Sigmund of the golden flax fields that he played in as a child.  Her skin was smooth and appeared to have a silky tan that told she was no stranger to working outside.
                Sigmund stood as she came closer with a wooden tray that held a hot loaf of bred with an alluring scent and a steaming drinking bowl of hot water.
         “I hope this helps the lord with his mead-head,” she said as she set the tray on the table and looked up at him with emerald green eyes.
         For the first time in his life he was speechless, captivated by the gaze of a woman.
         Groud stood to usher the maid out the door and thanked her for bringing what was requested.  He apologized for the health of the king and closed the door softly.  He turned back to face Sigmund and spoke, “It is not every day that you meet a woman with such beauty.”
         “No, it isn’t,” Sigmund replied, still spellbound.
         Groud, smiling, reached into his pouch and pulled out several small satchels while crossing the room.  He looked at the rune markings on each of the small leather bags and either returned it to his pouch or set it on the table.
         When he finished he opened them and took a small pinch from each and dropped the dried plants into the water.  After preparing the tea he said, “Let it steep.  When the water turns dark, drink it.  Dip the bread into the leftover herbs and eat.  This will cure your ailment.”
         “Thank you, old friend,” Sigmund answered.  He walked over to the wash basin and used the cold water to wash the sleep from his face.  After this little ritual he sat at the table with his companion.
         “What do you think Thorgrum’s true intentions are,” he asked after a few moments of silence and a sip of tea.
         This was the very question that burned in the mind of Groud who knew that it was only a matter of time before it was asked.  And now the moment was upon him.
         “I believe his heart is pure, but do not mistake the peace that he offers as weakness.  He is no coward.  However, I think he may want something more than peace.  He may reveal today what he did not yesterday.”
         Sigmund continued sipping his tea and sat silently contemplating the advice.  After finishing the tea, he moved on to the bread.  Still he remained silent.
         “Perhaps we should let our host know that we are ready to continue our negotiations.”
         This was exactly what Groud was waiting to hear.  Now the nice part was over and it was time to get down to the meat of their visit.
         Sigmund opened the door to find the herald that announced them the day before standing before him, poised to knock on the door.
         “Let your master know that we are ready,” he said.  The young man looked at him in wide-eyed amazement for a moment, and then found his voice.
         “Grandfather sent me to guide you through the labyrinth.  These halls can become confusing.”
         “Labyrinth,” asked Groud.  “These passages are a maze?”
         “It is for the safety of the people.  It was Grandfather’s idea.”
         The two warriors looked at one another, only their eyes spoke, “A worthy ally to have”.
         “What is your name,” Sigmund’s curiosity got the better of him.
         “Gunter,” he answered.
         “And you are the grandson of Thorgrum?”
         “I am the eldest child of his grandchildren,” he replied with pride.
         “I am Sigmund,” he offered his arm to the young man who quickly accepted it.
         “And I am Groud,” his gesture mimicked the king’s.
         The young man understood that with proper introductions being done he no longer had to be formal with either man.  Though his eye level was only chest high to Sigmund and his rite of passage was a mere three moons past these men offered him equality in their ranks.  They were the first warriors to do this.
         “You are here to lead us, yes,” Sigmund said, awaking the young man from his momentary reverie.
         “Yes, I am,” was his answer.
         “Then lead on, Master Gunter,” Groud motioned, smiling.
         “Yes, if you will follow me, please.”
         When they entered the great hall the change in Gunter’s announcement was not unnoticed.
         “My Lord, I present King Sigmund and his second in command, Groud.”
         Thorgrum looked at his grandson and then the two men.  A smile, ever so slight, crept across his face.  However, he could not hide the gleaming pride in his eyes.
         He motioned for the two men to take their places at the table and Gunter began to back out.
         “My Lord,” Groud spoke out, “may I request that Gunter remain and be seated with us?”  If he would have looked at the prince, he would have noticed the expression of his face.  As it was he did not need to look at him to know what his face looked like.
         The answer came in the form of a smile that the king could no longer hold to himself.  “Bring my grandson a chair,” his voice resounded through the cavernous chamber.