The pounding of the waves on the tiny isle of Fårö, but a few miles off of Gotland, but much harsher. The sea cut close here; the isle was only a thousand or so paces wide, and the rocks were pounded into strange shapes by the tide. It was here that the Althing met, to discuss under sky and sea the doings of the land.
It is not your right! Haerolde thundered, pounding the infamous black iron axe that had been taken from the deepest of the southlands, the black iron axe which, swung with two hands, could cleave a man in two. It was the ancestral icon of Haeroldes house, the Scavunger family, who was one of the most powerful on the entire isle. And it was a direct rival to the Derringer family, of which Hrodbert was one.
It is my right, he said, ever patiently. This Althing is a chance to speak freely, no? And aye, I declare that the isles should be united. That they should be whole, and free. It might be your desire to rule over ten hides of land and war with your neighbors over this miserable rock, Sacvunger, but not mine. Is it yours!? he now directed his speech to the Althing at large. A resounding negative roar struck back.
Then surely you can see the benefits of union. There is no reason to remain disunited. There is no reason to solve our differences through bloodshed. Let the Althing decide!
NO! roared Haerolde. If this must be done, it must be done. But not to some young boy who still suckles on his mother, who knows naught of the ways of war! Let it be chosen by who is the strongest! LET THE GREATEST CHIEF RULE!
Men began to cheer him, until Hrodbert thundered back, IS THIS HOW WE DO LIFE IN GOTLAND!? Do we fight like animals over an offense never committed? Must we shed blood in a brute struggle for the throne? We are the Althing, Haerolde. It is our business to decide the isles business. And it is our business to decide who rules.
You are a coward and a weakling.
Is that so? I accept your challenge, Haerolde.
Haerolde grinned a fearsome grin as the rest of the Althing went quiet. You will duel me for the throne of Gotland?
Hrodbert smiled inside. He had thrown the dice, and Haerolde had taken it like a minnow that swam right into your fist.
Yes I will.
You choose the battle then. It is your right, as the challenged.
Hrodbert really did smile this time. Haerold had fallen for his lure again.
Very well. We shall not duel that game where your axe will be used, so you may put that down. We shall decide the fitness of a ruler through his mind, through his ability to rule. Fitting, no?
Haerolde looked nonplused. He also looked apprehensive; that blunt head of his had never done enough thinking when he could go by other means.
We shall duel in a game of chess. Now. In front of the Althing.
Haerolde did not reply at all. Hrodbert sensed it would be better to wait, not to make a scathing remark, though several came to mind. He waited and waited, Haerolde growing redder and redder. Finally, the huge man plunged the axe into the sandy soil of the meeting place, and approached the great stone that lay in the midst of the Althing, incised with squares. The Giants Chessboard, as they sometimes called it. One so big you could get up and walk about it, looking at the pieces from any angle. The great, ponderously carved, heavy wooden pieces were lugged in by men nearby, and set up. Hrodbert walked over to the black side.
Your move.