Gunnar stepped to the sack and peered inside; it was indeed full of small brown loaves. "It is bread," confirmed Gunnar. "But I am wondering how you obtained it."
The Sea Wolves on the quay and those aboard ship began clamouring for the wager to be settled. As I suspected, numerous additional wagers had been struck, and now the winners wanted their take.
"I do not understand," Gunnar said, shaking his head. "How did they do it?"
We were not to wonder long, however, for at that moment, there came a shout from the quay. I turned to see Constantius the baker, pushing a cart loaded high with fresh bread in big, round fragrant loaves. Behind him a young man pushed a second cart filled equally high. "Here!" he shouted. "Here you are! I have found you."
He forced the cart through the midst of the barbarians, hollering at them to make way. "Just as I promised," he declared in a loud voice, "I have brought the politikoi. 'Do not worry,' I said, 'I am a man of my word.' And now you see, eh? I was telling the truth. I am an honest man. Here is your bread."
I thanked him, and said, "These Danes do not understand your speech. If you will allow me, I will tell them what you are saying."
"By all means, you must do that. Let understanding increase."
To Hnefi and the others, I said, "As you see, Constantius here has brought the bread allowance-and not half only, but the whole of it."
"Heya," he agreed confidently, "it is a shame for you that he arrived too late."
"How so?" challenged Gunnar. "You see the bread before you."
"We brought bread also, and we arrived with it before you," Hnefi replied. "Therefore I have won the wager."
"That is by no means certain," said Gunnar. "I do not know what it is that you have brought in those bags of yours, but it is not the bread we were sent to fetch."
"You know it is bread!" charged Hnefi. "You have seen it with your own eyes."
King Harald arrived at the rail and demanded to know why so many men were standing idle when there were provisions waiting to be brought aboard ship. Hnefi quickly explained about the wager, adding, "As it happens, I have won. But this worthless Dane refuses to admit his defeat and pay me my winnings."
"Is this so?" asked the king.
"I do refuse, Jarl Harald," answered a defiant Gunnar, "for it is not my custom to pay when I win a wager. I pay only when I lose. Hnefi insists on having it the other way, I think."
This response delighted the onlooking Sea Wolves, many of whom laughed, and began cheering for him.
"What is all this commotion?" wondered a bemused Constantius, finding himself surrounded by barbarians in full cry.
While I explained the dispute, the king made his way to the quay to settle the argument himself. "Clearly, you cannot both have won this wager," opined Harald judiciously. "One of you has won, and the other has lost. That is the way of things." Seeing that he had achieved general agreement on this fundamental point, he pressed on. "Now then, it appears that Hnefi has returned first with the bread."
"Hnefi has indeed returned first," allowed Gunnar. "But he has not brought the bread he was sent to fetch."
"And yet I see before me sacks of bread," Harald pointed out equably.
"No, Jarl Harald, this is not so. While there may be loaves in those sacks, it is not the bread given by the emperor. I only have returned with the proper loaves, as this baker will certainly attest. Therefore, I have won and it is for Hnefi to pay me."
"Proper loaves?" howled Hnefi, colour rising to his already florid face. "Bread is bread. I returned first: I win."
"Anyone may stuff stale loaves into a bag and hope to claim the prize," maintained Gunnar with cool disdain. "It means nothing."
Harald hesitated. He looked thoughtfully at the cart full of loaves, and at the sacks lying on the quay. The matter, apparently so straight-forward only a moment before, had taken an unexpected twist, and he was no longer certain what should be done.
Mistaking the king's hesitation for unwillingness to accept the bread, Constantius, standing next to me, whispered a suggestion. Listening to him, an idea came to me how the dilemma might be solved.
"If I may speak, Jarl Harald," I said, putting myself forward. "I believe there may be a simple way to discover who has won the wager."
"Speak then," he said without enthusiasm.
"Taste the bread," I advised. "As we will all be eating this bread for many days, it seems right to me to have only the best brought aboard. There is only one way to prove which is best-taste it and see."
Gunnar acclaimed the suggestion. "That is excellent counsel." Retrieving a loaf from the pyramid on the cart, he offered it to the king. "If you please, Jarl Harald; we will abide by your decision."
While Harald pulled off a portion of the bread, I explained the trial to Constantius. "That is not what I meant," the baker said. "But it makes no difference to me. I bake an honest loaf, as anyone can see."
