The Saga of Gyrth

by Jarl Gregory of York

AND WHEN THE crier brought tidings of the hosting, Gyrth was last to hear, for in his ears rang the sounds of the gnashing of his own teeth over a piece of the ice it was his strange pleasure to chew. But when at last he heard, he made a great oath that he would fill his oxcart with warriors and weapons of the dread Lemming War Band and thus take them all to smite the foe and feed their swords on the bodies of the enemy, and his oxcart was vast as his appetite, and the villagers marveled at what a sight it would be when the Lemming War host suddenly appeared at the enemy steading and laid it waste. Long and white was the cart, and Gyrth, a crafty man, set out to provision it well so that the host should not want for meat nor drink on the journey.
And when it came time to leave, there was not a pig nor cow in the village, nor bottle of mead nor ale, but that it found its way into Gyrth's cart. And much treasure, too, was taken so that if the plunder were lean there could be trading and bartering along the way, for Gyrth was fond of barter, as many a Carl had discovered to his loss.
And when the provisions were loaded, Gyrth, a crafty man, said to himself, "Would it not be wise to take along a shield maiden or two to shorten the journey and warm the long night?" And he licked his lips with approval at the thought and set about bribing two young village girls into running off to the hosting with him and his band. But even the blind, mute, and feeble-minded knew of Gyrth the Crafty and it was mickle hard on him to find two maidens willing to take the risk. At length he must give them each a gold ring, and so loaded even more trade goods (of the cheapest sort) into his long white oxcart to make good his loss.
And so it was that there was hardly room for Gyrth and the one companion he always brought with him, and sadly the brave Lemming Warband had to find its own way to the hosting. But Gyrth had his maidens, his weapons, his trade goods of cheap glass and low-grade copper, and also his shield brother, Perigrynne the Swift, who many said was not all that swift for riding with Gyrth. For Gyrth drove his oxcart as recklessly as a Norman chases goats, and so many were the dangers that beset them on the way. Gyrth strayed from the trail at the sight of any female between 10 and 60 summers, and once nearly gave up the journey altogether at a rumor of a nearby village that had no glass beads.
But finally the site of the hosting was reached, and the Lemming Host, led by Gyrth's shield brother, did lay about them mightily. Their banner of a dragon in heat fluttered boldly over their flashing blades and darting spears. The axes of grim Farris the Old and his bloodthirsty woman, Shu Shu, did reap a dread harvest among the helpless foemen. And the Lemming host did storm into the stockade and slaughter the defenders in great heaps, all the while laughing and shouting in prodigious mirth, all happier than a Heatherwino with a barrel of Ripple. But when the enemy host was all raven food and the ale was flowing from the great horn, it was discovered that Gyrth had never strayed from the trading area, and was, at that moment, trying to sell a sandpile to an Arab.
So the merry Lemming Host did grip him securely about the feet and hands, and did throw him from the one remaining stockade, and, still laughing, did drink and chase women and slow herd animals until all had fallen down in stupor. Thus ends the saga of Gyrth the Crafty.

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