TLV - 03 - The Sign of the Raven (11 page)

Anger beat in his temples. "We whipped twice our own number at the Niss," he said loudly. "That much you saw for yourself."

"Who won over them?" She laughed on a shrill note. "Haakon Ivarsson! He gave you victory at that battle, and took the war away from you, and today he yaps across the border knowing you dare not seek him out! Before God, I should go throw myself on my back before Haakon and hope to have sons by a man!"

"Now you've said too much," he rumbled. One hand leaped forth to grip her shoulder. She set teeth against a shriek at its force.

"Make war on women!" she yelled. "Little else are you fit for!"

He pushed her from him, and she staggered back. "Hear me," he said. "I've wrought what will endure when our wars are a page in a dusty book: strengthened the throne, built this town, brought in outland goods and ways. But you do not even try to understand. I bear plans you've not the power to dream of. If I choose not to tell them to a blabber-tongued wench whom it were better to turn across my knee, that's my affair. Naught ails you save greed. My work has never meant a thing to you but more gold, more silks, more thralls to serve your laziness. I've not heard one new word from you in all the years we've lived together. You've taken with both hands and given naught save nagging, like any crofter's carline."

"I gave you two sons," she answered. She stood half crouched, as if to leap upon him with claws. "That's more than Ellisif has done, for all her bookreading."

"Speak no word against her," he said out of a tightening throat. "Sometimes I rue the day I met you. When things have gone well, you were ready enough to reap the good of them; but in an evil moment, you stand by my foes."

She stiffened, and then something went from her and she flung herself onto a chair and wept. His wrath sputtered and sparked, suddenly drenched.

"So you would try tears," he said at last, but his mockery was unsure.

She raised a wet face and he saw the hunger on it.
"No," she gulped.
"It's that I've wished so much
for you
...
for
us . . . and there has been so
little "

He bent over and laid an awkward hand on her head. "We've had luck in the small things," he said, "but somehow have never gained the great. It may be we never shall; that the times are indeed unready, and no man can ripen a field before harvest season. Yet I mean to try, Thora. This winter I mean to seek out Haakon and destroy him; I wait till then lest the whole Swedish levy be brought against us. And afterward— Mighty deeds remain to do. Our sons shall have a greater inheritance than any Norse king ever gained, if God and St. Olaf aid. Perhaps I forget you're younger than I and time goes more slowly for you."

She came into his arms, and he caressed her, and that night was as if the years since their first meeting had dropped away. Thereafter they were together all the time, and Elizabeth sang no more.

2

Only a few ragged leaves were on the oaks, the rest of the woods shivered in nakedness and the fields had begun to stiffen, when a scout galloped into Haakon Ivarsson's Varmland garth. He stayed not for meat or drink ere blurting his tale: that King Harald and the best of his troop were on their way.

"I looked for naught else," said Haakon, and let the war arrows start their summons. He felt no fear, rather a swift upward flaming of eagerness. Belike this was his time to bring down his foe. Countless were the ghosts that would be avenged when Harald Hardrede was slain. And thereafter a return in triumph to a Norway made free!

While his host of Goths and Varmlanders was rallying, he had spies out who brought him news of the king's far
ing. Harald had sailed to Konun
gahella, where he took the lightest of his ships and steered them up the Gota; at the falls he let them be dragged overland, and so came to Lake Vanern. This he crossed in an easterly direction, went a short way up a thinly frozen river beyond, and then left the ships under guard while he led the rest of his men on horse and foot. They pushed through a murky forest, and over moors and mires, toward Haakon's steading; but the jarl did not intend that Harald should look again on Ragnhild and the children.

It was late afternoon of a bitter-cold day when the two bands met each other. Haakon and his little army came out of a wood and saw the Norsemen not far off; horns blew, banners lifted, and both hosts fell into ranks.

The jarl sat his horse in the forefront of his battle line, looking over at the enemy. A bog lay between, where reeds thrust brown and forlorn through ice that glimmered beneath the low pale sun. Beyond the bog rose a hill, on which the king's men stood. Their spears and helmets caught the light as a flash of bleakness. Haakon could plainly spy Harald, astride a black Spanish barb that stamped and snorted and blew steam from its nose. There could be no mistaking that huge form, and the king wore a helmet that burned with gold. Beside him, a youth held the flag Landwaster; it curled in the breeze, blood-red and raven-black. Elsewhere Haakon recognized the standards of Ulf, Eystein, Styrkaar . . . men who had once been his friends. He shivered and crossed himself.

The Norse made no move. Haakon could just hear their king's voice, but the order was plain to him; they sat down under their shields, waiting rather than yield the advantage of higher ground. Glancing to right and left of his own lines, he saw the Swedish yeomen blue with cold. They had not had Harald's foresight and brought heavy garments.

"Let us bide awhile," he said. "Let them come to us through the mire. We'll make it warm for them."

Clouds hurried out of the east; soon the sun was hidden and it began to snow. Those were tiny, dry flakes, but fell thickly; it was hard to see the king's men through them. Haakon slapped his hands together, trying to drive blood back into the skin.

Thorvidh, the lawman of the Goths, was mounted nearby, a swag-bellied old man, his nose red above white whiskers. He alone of his folk was warmly clad. His horse was tethered to a peg driven into the stone-hard earth, and he was quite ready to wait.

Now he puffed himself importantly, turned in the saddle, and spoke to his followers:

"God knows we have gathered here a host to be proud of, so strong and handsome as we are;
therefore, let King Steinkell hear that we have stood honestly by our good jarl. Certain am I that if the Norsemen dare come to us, they'll soon mark whom they have to deal with!" His men hunched their shoulders and blew on n
umbed hands and wiped snow from
their beards. Thorvidh roared on:

"But should it happen that the young among us, unripe in war, give way, then we are not to run further than to yon brook. Or if the youngest men—which is unthinkable—should give way again, then we will run to that hill over there, but not one step further!"

At this moment, the Norse raised their war cry, leaping up and clamoring sword on shield. The Swedes answered, till ears rang. The lawman's horse shied, yanking up the peg so that it whizzed past Thorvidh's head.

"Damn those Norsemen!" he wailed. "How they do shoot!" And off went the lawman, to be seen no more that day.

Haakon cursed as the Goths wavered. "Up our banner!" he yelled. "Charge them!"

He spurred his own horse, down the bank and into the mire. Ice crackled beneath. Suddenly the beast was knee-deep in half-frozen mud. Behind him, the Swedes shouted anew, some calling on Odhinn and some on Christ, and rolled after.

Haakon beat his horse, driving it forward. A gust of snow whirled in his eyes. "Holy Olaf, stand by us today," he prayed. "It's your son's banner we bear." His heart drummed within him. Over the bog and up the hill and see King Harald's guts!

With a gasp and a squelch, the horse pulled free on the other side, Haakon's blade hummed in his fingers. Shadowy forms were before him. A stone bounced off his shield. He reined in his steed, looked back and saw his men struggle through the muck behind.

"God send the right!" he shouted.

"Hola, Odhinn!"
The heathen warriors formed their line afresh, raggedly, and panted up the slope in his trail.

Horns blasted and the Norse charged down to meet them. Haakon saw two men before him, axes aloft. His horse reared again, brought hoofs down on one—the fellow toppled, while Haakon's sword bit at his friend. He glimpsed a face gaping up at him, blood was a sudden crimson in the snow. Once more he struck; the man sank beneath his glaive.

Thus from horseback had he seen the Normans make war in the West. He wished he had their cavalry now. Harald would get short shrift!

Someone else bawled an oath, and a giant loomed out of the snow. Briefly, wildly, Haakon thought it King Harald, th
en he remembered Gunnar Geirodd
sson. The carle was shieldless, wielding an ax two-handed which few men could have swung. He stormed down, the weapon whistled, and Haakon himself felt the shock that split the horse's head.

The jarl kicked free of his stirrups and was on the ground before his mount had fallen. His blade reached out. Gunnar stopped it on the ax helve. Haakon caught the next blow on his iron shield rim. It gave way, wood splinter
ed and leather sheared, the jarl’
s arm nearly lost the handgrip.

"Hoo, there!" roared Gunnar. "Stand fast, little man, stand fast!"

Haakon dropped the broken shield and danced before his enemy, blade like a snake's tongue. Gunnar had not such swiftness, but wounds seemed to mean naught to him. If one of his own blows landed, there was an end of Haakon Ivarsson.

The jarl darted in, swinging for the thick neck. Almost, he had Gunnar, but the fellow slipped and went on his back. Haakon leaped for him. Gunnar lifted both feet and kicked out. Haakon lurched away.

When the jarl's head cleared, he found himself elsewhere in a monstrous confusion. The Norse stood together, hammering as one creature with a hundred arms. These were no hastily summoned carles, but men whose trade was war. The Swedes were already giving ground, here a man fell, there a man was pushed aside; their ranks were being broken up.

"Christ help us!" groaned Haakon. The battle fury jumped anew in him, he went into the line and began trading blows. The guardsman before him dropped his shield a moment, long enough for Haakon to cut his arm to the bone. The jarl sprang over him as he fell to one knee.

"Forward, my men!" he cried. "Forward and kill them!"

The din of weapons came through whirling sheets of snow. Haakon found himself against three Norsemen squeezed out of their own ranks. A spear thrust at him. He sidestepped it and clove the spearman's neck. A sword banged off his byrnie. Wrenching his own blade free, he fell to the attack,
clash, clash, clash,
and suddenly the foe was shrieking on the ground. The third man had been circling about, in search of a chance to strike. Haakon fell on him. Swords belled together, sparks jumped where they met, and the warrior's was torn from his grasp. Haakon cut him down and turned panting after more enemies.

A wild whoop rose. As the snowfall lessened, he saw the Swedish line buckle. He saw King Harald, blade ablaze, lead the final charge.

Darkness swam before Haakon's eyes. He was done, he had failed, Harald Hardrede had smashed his hopes and trampled them underfoot. There they went, the heartless cravens, breaking and running into the woods, little they cared to sit in Valhall!

Haakon shook his fist at the sky. "Why did You not give me some Norsemen?" he shrieked.

Then he picked up a spear and went swiftly in among the trees himself.

3

Pursuit of the Swedes did not last long, for darkness came fast. In the guttering glare of torches, Harald's army gathered itself again. The snow had stopped falling, but lay white on the dead. Strange how helpless a man was once he had died, not even able to keep the snow off his freezing body; he went back to babyhood and soiled himself and crept into the night from which he had come.

Harald regarded the banner of Magnus. "This much we have," he said. "But did the jarl fall?"

"I know not," said Ulf. He and Gunnar were tilting a jug the latter had carried along; being wearied, they were well started toward drunkenness. "Too many dead; I've no wish t' turn o'er corpses."

"Haw!" said Gunnar. "You'd liefer turn over a Swedish wench, eh?" He felt cocky; the king had promised him fine gifts and a place in the royal guard for his work today.

"If she lay on her belly, aye," said Ulf. He made owl eyes. "But she nee'n' be Sweesh. Any race'll do. I min' one Moorish maid down in Miklagardh
...
see, skaldcraft there . . . many years agone; ah, yes, t' be young!"

Harald's face thrust its red-splashed crags out of shadow. "We've broken the Gotland and Varmland hosts, at least," he said. "Late will they follow Haakon again after this drubbing! Now it's a matter of teaching our own Uplanders some manners."