The Rich Man Einar Skold

(Happy Nordic Halloween)

“TAKE THE CATTLE TO THE OTHER MEADOWS BY THE RIVER, YOU IMBECILES. NOW!”

The booming voice of Einar Skold made the peasants in his service duck and run. Even his white steed
– the only riding horse in the village of Kysarna among heavy-set workhorses – rose on its hind legs.

“IF I WOULD NOT TAKE CARE OF EVERYTHING MYSELF I WOULD STARVE.”

Einar shook his fist at the cattle drovers in rage before he spurned his horse and galloped further
down the winding country road. Hundreds of hooves and feet had stomped and hardened the
ground and beaten a path through the woods and fields for untold generations.

This was all Einar´s land. His ancestors had pleased the gods and had grown rich through trade and
barter, through wheeling and dealing and clever marriage, through deeds sometimes great and often
wicked but always favored by the ones who dwelled in Asgard.

Einar swore blasphemously as his steed suddenly stopped and nearly threw him off. A man and a
woman stood in the path before him, a man and a woman Einar had never seen before nor cared to
see.

Both were old, their hands calloused and their back bend and crooked from a lifetime of hard work.
They wore tattered clothes of indefinable colours, bleached and washed out by sun and rain. She
wore a scarf over her head that almost hid the haggard face and the large nose completely. Only a
few thing strands of grey hair had slipped out of the cloth and dangled over her face. He had a broad
strap of leather over his right eye and leaned heavily on a gnarled tree branch that served as his
walking aid. Both moved slowly across the road, burdened down by age so they had made Einar´s
horse stop in its tracks.

“Why do you scare us so much Mylord?” the old woman asked with a thin cracked voice.

“I ask the questions here!” Einar retorted., “I don´t know you. What business do you have on my
land? Explain yourself.”

His right hand fell heavy on the pommel of a large dagger, almost a sword two feet in length that he
carried at his side wherever he went.

The old man made a sound that was more cough that laughter while his companion smiled.

“How is that possible mylord? We live here. You Great-grandfather left a piece of land to my
husbands family and we have lived in this hut for generations. Her trembling hand pointed away
from the road into the forest where Einar could see the roof of a little house covered with straw and
clay.

“I have never heard of such a thing. My Great-Grandfather knew better than throw away his
property to some sharecroppers.”
Indeed Einar had never seen this hut in all of his life. Maybe his grandfathers father had given it to
someone but that could change faster than the blink of an eye.

“Get off my grounds today “ If you are still here by sunset you will be buried here.”

“Is this the way you treat the will of our ancestors?” the old man shouted and shook his walking staff
in anger, “This soil was given to my family by your family long before you were born!”

The woman placed her hand on his angry fist and shook her head slightly before she turned to Einar
who had already pulled his dagger from the scabbard.

“Mylord. I beg you. Let us stay here and let us live out our lives in peace and you shall be rewarded.

Einar snorted.

“Like you would own the dirt under your fingernails.”

“Maybe I don´t Mylord but I know the old ways. I know the hail is coming, the flood and the drought.
But it does not have to be like that for you. I know herbs that can protect your fields when the gods
ogf nature bring misfortune to everyone else.

“Rubbish!”

“No it is not Mylord. You will soon see in less than one week. But if you try the herbs I give you no
harm will befall you. What do a few days more or less matter to you Mylord? You can always chase
us away next week.

Einar thought about it for a moment. It seemed like good business to him. These two could cause no
harm over the course of the next week. Maybe they would already be dead by then.”

“Alright you old crow.” Einar sheathed his dagger, “Show me your herbs and if you lied to me I swear
to Odin and Thor that I will drag you and to death behind my horse a week from now.

***

The next morning the peasant looked at Einar. They shook their heads and whispered when they
were out of sight if Einar Skold the rich man of Kysarna had finally lost his mind to throw handful
after handful of dried leaves and twigs onto his grain fields instead of plowing them.

He went on to do that for five days and all the time Einar kept his mouth shut.

On the sixth day a thunderstorm broke loose like it had not hit the village in generations. Thor raged
across the sky, sending down rain and lightning followed by a deluge of hail that destroyed all the
fields and many houses with its primordial force. Many farmers sat down in a corner and prayed to
the gods that Ragnarok had not come yet and that the time of the Fimbulwinter and the time of
broken shields and axes was not yet upon them.

Then the sun came out but again but not as a blessing but as a deadly curse. What wheat had not
fallen victim to rain and hail now dried and burned. Even the villages river dried to a muddy trickle
and the cattle died from hunger and thirst.
Only Enar Skolds fields bore rich fruit and his cattle grew fat.

When the time of harvest came cart after cart full of wheat and grain rolled into his homestead and
Einar stood proud rubbing his hands in anticipation when he calculated the profits he would make
from the scarcity of foodstuffs. It would him the richest man in the province and an important man
in the halls of the nobles as well. He had know for long that many of these noble men and women
lived of their reputation rather than their gold and always looked for those who would discreetly lend
them money. Soon Einar would be able to do this, gaining both interest and influence.

He heard his wife in the bakery where the ground corn was made into thick loafs of bread scolding
the peasants who were now forced to work for Einar after their harvest had been destroyed,

“Move it your lazy scum.” Einars wife shouted, “Or you can go back to your ruined homes.”

Yes, that was the spirit. The gods had once again favored his family.

***

Einar sat down with his wife Astrid and his sons Bjoern and Gunnar to enjoy what his shrewdness and
hard bargain had given them so plentiful. Suddenly there was a noise at the door, a heavy banging
and enraged shouting.

Einar pulled his dagger and went to see who was intruding into his home. He moved back the three
huge iron ledges that secured the thick oaken door and peered outside. The old man and his wife
stood on his doorstep.

“Mylord,” the woman spoke, “You have so much now while the others have nothing. You can feast
but your neighbours starve. Do you not want to give something to those who need it after I saved
you from poverty.

Einar lashed out with his blade in blind rage, leaving a long cut in the woman´s ragtag clothing. She
fell backwards and took her husband down with her so that both ended up as a mess of screaming
arms, legs and dirty rags on the ground.

“I DO NOT ALLOW BEGGARS ON MY GROUNDS! GET AWAY OR YOU WILL FEEL THIS BLADE! I WANT
YOU OFF MY LAND NOW OR I WILL FEED YOU TO MY DOGS!”

Burning with rage he raised his sword arm again only being held back by his wife.

“Einar! Please!”

He pushed her back and freed his arm from his wife´s hold but when Einar turned around again
towards the door the old man and woman were already stumbling and running away as fast as their
aged weak limbs could carry them.

Einar began to think. If the old witch knew the herbs that could heal and grant prosperity she would
also know those who could harm and bring ruin He would better be safe than sorry.

Einar looked around. There was one last skap of dought that had not yet been baked into bread.

“I put that in the oven. Then we barricade the house. And later hire some men who take care of the
of the two old crows. Silver speaks loudly to hungry men.”
“Lock the door, “ he ordered his wife and sons and do not open to anyone expect me.” Dagger in
hand Einar went outside into the bakery to finish this last loaf of bread.

His sons found him the next morning. Einar´s heart had always been made of rock. Now he had
turned into solid stoner, a statue of granite in front of the oven.

By noon his wife and distributed the bread and the corn and the gold and silver among the hungry
villagers. Then she went to see the old man and the old woman with a basket full of bread and a
pouch heavy with coins.

But she found no hut in the place her husband had said it would be. The only things she found were a
pile of ragged clothes among the marks of hooves, clawed paws and wheels that seem to come out
of nowhere and disappeared into nowhere.