Dance of the Tiger by Bjorn Kurten

Author:Bjorn Kurten
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2014-02-10T05:00:00+00:00

STAG

Mine eye hath seen his desire upon mine enemies.

—Psalms 54:7

I have no sons.

The words brought another image, of a tall young woman, laughing, standing broad-legged in a landscape of silver-stemmed birches. Her chestnut-brown hair hung down to her hips. Her arms were stretched out to a caribou cow and her calf, who advanced shyly toward her. She was talking softly to them. He himself was standing behind her, hardly daring to breathe. The sweetness of the image hurt him inexpressibly more deeply than the memory of the agony he had suffered in Skua’s noose. That agony had been avenged.

I have no sons, I have no father.

I have a brother.

He had come to life in his brother’s arms, but it was not until the next evening that they heard the full story of what had happened on that fateful Midsummer Eve. It was Fox who told them, at their old hiding-place by Watersmeet. His story confirmed all their suspicions.

At the moment when old Greylag was to have robed his son Falcon with the Chief’s mantle, both their dead bodies were carried in. It was Skua who stood up and told the people how he and Stag had found them murdered. Never had Skua been more eloquent; never had he swayed his audience as he did with this tale. There was terror in every heart, and all those who heard the story dissolved in sobs. At the climax of his speech, Skua pulled the murder weapons out of the two bodies and held them high for all to see in the last slanting rays of the setting sun. They were the javelins of the two Troll imps.

“Thus the Troll folk repay all the kindnesses that our dear Shaman and Chief-elect have heaped upon them for so many summers and winters,” said Skua in his vibrating voice, while tears started into his eyes.

After recounting these events, Fox paused. Then he said simply, “Both points were broken. That’s how I knew you couldn’t have done it. So forgive me, but that man Skua could talk water out of a rock. I’m ashamed I ever doubted you, but when I saw those points, I knew.”

Fox had no opportunity to protest his friends’ innocence at the gathering of the tribes. A motherly woman took him in her arms, crying over the poor orphaned youth—orphaned for the second time—and practically smothered him at her ample breast. Fox saw Stag stand up. He spoke briefly, but to the point. If the tribe elected him Chief, he swore to hunt down the treacherous Troll imps and bring them to justice. If it was the people’s wish, he would lead Sun Village, faithfully and devotedly, ever after.

At this a cry went up: “Stag for Chief! Stag for Chief! Death to the Troll imps!”

Then there was a hush. Hobby had worked her way through the crowd up to the bodies, and now stood silent, looking down at them. Then she raised her head, and her once-vacant eyes were bright and intelligent. She turned toward Stag, and he backed away from the burning contempt in her gaze.

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