The Dark Horse by Marcus Sedgwick

get him into the boat. We don’t want his ghost haunting us here. The sooner the fish pick his bones clean, the better for all of us.”
    And everyone agreed. He was obviously some kind of magician; he would be more likely than most to prove a troublesome spirit after death.
    Mouse stood and watched with me as the men went about the work. We hadn’t spoken of that awful night since it had happened. Now I could not restrain my curiosity.
    “What did he do to you?” I asked. “With the box—what was he doing?”
    Mouse looked at me in her silent way.
    “He hurt me,” she said in the voice that meant I would get no more out of her.
    So we put Ragnald into the boat, rowed out to the waiting sea, and tipped him overboard.

4

    “Sigurd Olafsson!” called Longshank.
    “Yes,” the boy answered.
    “Sif Hornsdaughter!” called the old man again.
    “Yes,” answered the girl.
    The pair stood opposite each other in a crudely marked circle of white pebbles on the black beach. The tribe watched from the high-tide line. Mouse held Freya’s hand. She didn’t know which of them was comforting the other.
    Sif had continued to insist that she go through with her challenge to Sigurd’s right to become Lawspeaker.
    “You know why you are here? You know the rules by which you must abide?” asked Longshank.
    “Yes,” answered boy and girl together.
    “Then begin!”
    But the fight was over almost as soon as it started.
    Sif was a tall, strong girl, but at sixteen Sigurd was bigger and stronger than some men ten years older.
    She made the first move and charged at Sigurd, screaming loudly.
    She made an impressive sight, and for a moment Sigurd was thrown by her aggression.
    As she reached him he recovered himself, bouncing his body weight into his knees. A moment before she would have struck him, he shifted onto his left foot, and Sif flew past. As she did so he swung into her stomach with a tight fist.
    Sif lay sprawling, winded, on the sand. Sigurd put his foot on her throat.
    “Yield,” he said, but quietly and without show.
    Sif tried to wriggle out, but Sigurd put more weight on her.
    “Yield,” he said again, and then whispered so that no one at the beach could hear, “Your father would be proud.”
    Sif stopped wriggling. After a long pause she raised a hand in submission.
    A murmur came from the watching crowd.
    Sif stood and glared at Sigurd, her nose just a few inches from his. Then she spat in his face and walked back to the brochs, her rage still twisting inside her.
    Sigurd followed more slowly, and behind him walked Longshank, with due solemnity.
    As Sigurd reached the people Longshank called out, “Hail to the new Lawspeaker!”
    There was a shout, but it was subdued. As if for the first time, what was happening was sinking into everyone’s mind.
    Sigurd met every gaze as he walked through the tribe, which parted to let him into his village.
    All was total silence, apart from the whisk of the wind coming off the sea. Then a woman’s voice muttered, “Are we really to be ruled by a boy?”
    Sigurd stopped in his tracks. He looked about him for the source of the voice.
    “Yes,” he said. “Since no man is bold enough, you will be ruled by a boy.”
    No one spoke.
    Evening fell.
    Inside his broch, with all the people hidden in their own dark homes, Sigurd shook and cried like a small child while Freya held him tight.
    Mouse sat at his feet, quiet.
    “Your father would be proud,” said Freya again.

5

    Then Longshank decided that I should undergo my coming-of-age ordeal. In this way, he said, I would become a man, so the tribe would have a man for Lawspeaker after all, and not a boy.
    I was not afraid either way. I wanted to do it.
    So the morning after I had defeated Sif in the fight, they set up the arch made of turf on the grass between the village and the fields.
    To complete the ordeal, all I had to do was walk under the arch. If it fell down while I did so, then my manhood would be a poor