'So all dogs fight,' Crowbone said with a sad sigh and a shake of his head. 'Once it was not so.'
'You call me a dog, you brat?' rumbled Tyrfing.
'If it yaps like one,' Crowbone said and I was wishing he would keep quiet, for my head would not take another good thumping.
'I will yap you, boy,' grunted Tyrfing and made to rise. 'Enough of all this,' snarled Martin. 'Leave the boy — have you understood nothing? We need him and Orm alive.'
'Of course, all Christ priests are like cats,' little Olaf said and heads came up.
'Why cats?' demanded Thorkel, pushing more wood near the flames to thaw it out enough to feed the fire.
'There was once a rich man,' Crowbone said, 'who lived in Kiev long ago, do not ask me when.'
No-one spoke when Olaf stopped and he looked up from the fire and into all their faces.
'This man,' he went on, 'lived in a fine izba. High walls hid it from view. He had no family and his only company was a cat and a pack of dogs. He never went out to work. He did not even go out to buy food. No-one ever visited him. Naturally, everyone was very curious — especially the thieves.
'One night, a thief sneaked into a neighbour's courtyard and peeked over the walls. He saw a wonderful place, of bathhouses and granaries and a forge. In the centre was a house fancy enough for the emperor of the Great City.
'The curious thief climbed over the wall and crept into the house, which was filled with fine furniture and rich hangings — a real jarl's hov. In a high seat of gold-studded wood sat the old man, richly dressed, wearing gold rings on his arms and round his neck.
'There were feasting benches and a great table carved from a single piece of shining wood and the old man sat in his high seat, with the cat and all the dogs opposite, like they were his guests at a feast — but there were neither plates of food on the table nor any thralls to cook and serve.'
'I know how that feels,' grunted a man from behind Thorkel.
'I know now how it feels to be the missing thrall,' answered Heg with a chuckle.
'Shut your bungholes,' growled Tyrfing. 'This at least takes my mind off the cold.' He gave a harsh look at Martin, who wisely clamped his ruined gums.
Crowbone smiled and went on with his story and I wondered why, for there was no reason to raise the spirits of this band.
'The old man smiled at the dogs and asked: "What do you want to eat tonight?" The dogs gave a bark and the old man nodded and drew out a Christ amulet from a small box, one of those fat crosses with the dead god nailed to it and said: "As you like it, as I like it, I would like some rich stew."
'A big golden bowl of fine lamb stew popped into the air above the table and landed with a clank in front of the dogs. The smell was delicious and they happily began to slurp down their food.'
'You turd,' growled Thorkel, 'I see your plan now — you are trying to kill us with longing for what we do not have.'
'Pagan imp,' growled Martin angrily. 'The holy cross is not some Devil's magic-maker.'
'The old man asked his cat — let us call it Martin,' declared Olaf, ignoring them both. Martin scowled but said nothing.
'The cat merely licked its paws, so the old man wished on the amulet and a big steaming carp appeared. With a disgusted look at the dogs, the cat began to eat daintily.
'Then the old man wished up his dinner on the amulet and the platters with it, all gold, crusted with jewels and a huge drinking horn banded with silver for him to drink his fine wine.'
'Blaspheming imp,' spat Martin. 'Enough — God will not be mocked.'
'Shut your hole,' snarled Tyrfing, shivering now, his inner layer of clothes having been soaked with sweat, now freezing. 'I like the sound of such a drinking horn and what it might contain.'
'At the end of this feast;' Olaf went on, 'the old rich man yawned and wished the dirty plates all away, then he and his pets slept — though it was the cat who ended up in the rich man's bed, covered with furs and fine linen. The dogs tried to crowd in, but Martin the cat yowled until the rich man scattered them off, leaving him and the cat alone in the huge comfortable bed.
'The thief waited patiently until the old man and his pets had begun to snore. Then he sneaked in and stole the amulet. The next morning, the old man woke and found his amulet missing. He hid his face in his hands and wept. "I am ruined. Ruined! And I am too old to go looking for the thief."'
'Sounds like Thorkel,' I said and he curled his lip at me. Olaf laid a hand on my arm and I wisely obeyed and kept quiet.
'Then the rich man felt something wet on the backs of his hands and he looked up to see that it was his cat and all the dogs licking him. He put his hands on the dogs' heads, one by one. "Will you be my strong legs and go and find him?" They howled and yelped.
'The old man looked at Martin the cat. "Will you be my clever mind and get the amulet?" And the cat licked his hand.
'So the loyal pets left. They looked all over the land, from Aldeigjuborg to the Great City, from the lands of the Livs and Ests to the wild steppe of the Khazar Jews and beyond, even to where silk comes from. They lived by their skills and their wits. The dogs sniffed around in alleys for things that people threw out. Sometimes, they had to fight the other beggars for it, but the pack was strong and always won — and always shared what they had with the cat.
'The cat learned how to leap up through kitchen windows and steal food. Often Martin would eat most of it inside the house and only bring the leftovers to the dogs.
'Eventually, the animals heard of a rich man who had appeared out of nowhere, who lived on the other side of the mighty Dnepr. "You dogs are strong enough to bear me," the cat said. "One must carry me."
'The strongest of them agreed. "But do not dig in your claws," he warned and crouched. The cat leaped on his back and the dog slipped into the river, the pack following. The water was so cold and swift that the dog soon grew tired.
"I cannot do it," the dog groaned, leaking blood, for the cat had not spared its claws. "Then another must," the cat urged. "Think of home. Think of hot meals and soft furs and linen."
'So the next dog took the cat and went on until he was too tired and the next after that. Eventually, in this way, the cat reached the other bank and the dogs climbed out exhausted. "Now for the amulet," the cat said, not tired at all and sped up the hill without waiting for the slow, wet, weary dogs.
'By now Martin the cat was an expert at sneaking into houses and crept silently into this fine one, hiding behind a richly-decorated seat. The thief strode by in a robe of silk embroidered with gold. Around his neck hung the Christ amulet on a golden chain — but he was not as careless as the rich old man. Two guards accompanied him at all times.
'Going outside, the cat just stopped the dogs from blundering inside. "We will have to use both your strength and my wits to get the amulet," explained Martin.
"Anything for the old man," the loyal dogs promised.
'They waited until the thief went for a walk in his garden. The dogs suddenly darted out from bushes, bowling over the startled guards and leaping on the thief.
"Stop them," the thief shouted frantically. The two guards could not use their swords because they might hurt their employer. Instead, they tried to pull the dogs away. A huge fight raged.
'Into this, the cat shot, a small streak of fur. Perching on the rich man's chest, Martin pressed both front paws against the Christ cross. When the thief reached for it, the cat bit his hand so he snatched it back. Silently, the cat wished, "As you like it, as I like it, I would like to be back home with the amulet."
'As the cat began to fade from sight, the dogs barked anxiously. "Wait for us, wait for us," they howled — but the cat vanished from sight and, next moment, was back in the old man's hov. The old man lay in a ragged robe on a pile of straw. He had sold everything to pay his debts. Through the window, the cat could see that the garden itself had fallen into ruin.