TLV - 03 - The Sign of the Raven (6 page)

Vandraadh winced. "The king is no coward," he said in a low voice, "but he is not a lucky man."

Carl coughed. "Wash your hands, friends, the meal will soon be ready," he said loudly.

Vandraadh was the last to do so. When the good-wife handed him the towel, he dried himself in the middle of it. She snatched it back and cried shrilly: "You've not been brought up well; thorp-dwellers don't get the whole cloth wet at one time!"

Vandraadh smiled wearily. "Perhaps that day will come again when I can dry myself on the middle of a towel," he said.

Carl's children appeared, to lay out the trestle table and set it. Vandraadh placed himself between yeoman and goodwife, and ate with scant appetite. After he was finished, Carl gave him the horse and put his oldest son on another for guide. They rode briskly inland, bending southward, while Haakon's men returned to their ship.

2

Harald and his following came back toward evening, having given up the chase after the Danes; those had too long a head start. The king was still in good humor, though. His muscles ached, but he felt too happy to want sleep.

As they entered Lofufjord, they saw that Haakon had taken charge and gotten the ships into some kind of order. Campfires smoked on the beach, the hale sat about them resting and the wounded lay under tents. Harald went boisterously ashore, and the host cheered him. Thora was by his side, flushed with joy, and Magnus was not far off.

Styrkaar shambled forth. "I have a gift for you, my lord," he said. "The traitor Finn Arnason would not flee, so we took him and his crew prisoner, and here they are."

He waved a hairy hand, and several warriors led out the jarl of Halland. Harald felt a little shocked at sight of the man. He had grown very old in eleven years. He shuffled along, bent over, trembling faintly with age; his hair and beard were white, the once massive face shrunken inward, the eyes rheumy and almost blind. They had tied his hands behind his back.

He stopped before Harald and looked up. He could no longer make out faces, but only one man had that height. The king laughed and said:

"Well, Finn, so we meet again, whose last meeting was in Norway. The Danes did not stand very firmly by you, did they? Now the Norse will have a troublesome task, dragging you about and keeping you alive, blind as you are."

Finn's voice had become a near whisper, but he answered stoutly: "The Norse must put hands to many foul tasks; but worst of all are those you set them to."

It seemed wrong to Harald that this proud man should stand with ropes on his arms. He asked more gently: "Will you accept mercy, little though you deserve it?"

Finn spat. "Not from you, you dog!"

The king had expected no other reply. It seemed to him he had wronged Finn's house enough, without putting a helpless captive to death. "Well," he asked, "will you take peace from your kinsman Magnus?"

Finn peered around, as if trying to find the prince; he looked like a turtle. "Shall such a whelp yield peace to a man?" he snapped.

H
arald laughed. "But Thora, your
niece," he said. "Will you take mercy from her?"

Finn squinted and seemed to draw into himself. "Is she here?"

"That she is," said Harald.

Once more the jarl spat. He said shakily: "It's no wonder you bit so hard last night, if the mare was with you!"

Thora stepped back, her face whitened and she raised a hand to strike him. Harald caught her wrist. "Let him live," he said. "Keep watch over him, but take those cords off."

Styrkaar looked puzzled, but obeyed, and led Finn back to the tent he had raised. Thora swung furiously on Harald. She hissed: "Are you going to spare him after what he said about me?"

He gave her a wondering glance. "Your own uncle," he replied at last, slowly. Turning his back on her, he went toward the tent where Haakon's banner flew.

He thought his jarl had an uneasy air, but they got to work together at once. Much needed to be done. The chaplains of the fleet paid the Norse fallen the last honors; the Danish dead were brought ashore and the Halland yeomen told to bury them as best they could. There were many wounded to be cared for and prisoners to be guarded—held for ransom or sold as thralls. There was the booty to be divided, ships and weapons and whatever else of value could be found; this alone took a couple of days.

Slain men had been heaped on the Danish flagship. Harald looked at each corpse himself, and was disquieted not to find Svein's among them. But surely his enemy had fallen, perhaps gone overboard and been sunk by his mail. This had been one trap the fox could not have escaped.

He felt no great need of haste. Leaderless, Denmark lay open to him. Svein had many sons, but the oldest was still a boy, and the best of the Danish chiefs who might have supported him were killed. Some fighting would remain, though, so he let his men rest, sent the badly hurt home with the captured ships, kept anvils rin
ging with weapons to be mended.
Meanwhile, a few craft under Ulf went down to Sealand as scouts.

Finn Arnason brooded alone; he was sunk into sullenness, and those who spoke to him got a short answer. Thora and Magnus began to yawn and urge Harald to start again. Out in the fields, the hamlet's folk went about their work, caring little that they had changed overlords; only Carl was absent, having discovered an errand which required he take his whole family elsewhere.

The fleet was busking itself to sail when Ulf returned. It was a day of gusty winds and sallow light; the sea tossed noisy and anchor cables creaked. Harald hastened to the strand when he saw Ulf's ship grounding.

"Well?" he cried. "Have you learned aught?"

The Icelander walked slowly up to meet him. His face was a block of dark, scored wood. "I have ill tidings," he said.

Harald waited. A cold dampness sprang forth on his palms.

"The Devil guards his own," said Ulf. "Somehow

Svein Estridhsson has gotten back to Sealand. He has rallied not only the broken fleet, but men who're swarming to him from the whole realm. Everyone told us his host was already grown huge, and we saw troops of armed men hastening along the shore roads."

There was a crackling in Harald's head. Tatters of darkness wavered before his eyes.

"You're mistaken," he croaked. "They lied to you."

"No. I sent in spies who came from the Ranriki border and so could pass themselves off as Hallanders. Everywhere the war arrows were passing, and word that King Svein was back."

"Don't call him king."

"We've not enough strength to fare against him now." Ulf took his lord's arm and steered him toward his tent. "Next year
..."

"Perhaps we should call him king after all." Harald gave a rattle of laughter.

They entered the tent. No one else was there. Harald sat down on the bench and dropped his face into his hands.

"How can it be?" he asked wildly. "Is it possible to lose every single fight and still win a war?"

Ulf put an arm around his shoulders. "It's no mean foe you have," he said. "The man bends easily, but there's good steel in him and he springs back. Never erenow have two such kings met."

"Many are they who have cursed me," mumbled Harald. "So many prayers for vengeance, so much witchcraft brewed in lonely places."

"Are you one to heed old wives' chatter?" snorted Ulf.

"God is patient," said Harald. "He can as well torment a man with a lifetime's failure as strike him dead."

"No man escapes his weird," said Ulf, "but who knows what his fate may be? We'll try it again next year."

"And the year after that, and the year after that . . . How long can we whirl about in this stinking pool?" Harald groaned.

"Well, yes, we may find better work for our hands," agreed Ulf. "Denmark is not the whole Midhgardh."

Harald looked up. "Once I thought to engulf the world," he said. "Now it seems I cannot even take a few bogs and heaths."

"It will look better tomorrow," said Ulf. "Let's drink ourselves to sleep tonight, and leave thinking for some other time."

"Yes . . . yes, your rede is good. There will be other days." Harald got to his feet, head brushing the tent roof. "Best we call the chiefs now and tell them, then break out the beer."

3

Before sailing home, he summoned Finn Arnason. When he had met the jarl's gaze for a while, he said, "I can see, Finn, that you no longer wish the friendship of me or your kinfolk. So I give you leave now to return to your king, Svein in Denmark."

"I thank you for that," said the old man scornfully, "and will be the more grateful, the sooner I can get away."

Harald nodded to the guardsmen, who took Finn out and released him. Thora snapped, "It's not enough to give up th
e war, you must let that dodder
ing scoundrel go free."

"Be still," said the king. His leman dared not speak further, so black had his mood been since Ulf's news; but her lips drew into a thin line.

The fleet sailed back. Harald turned off at Osl
o
fjord with the crews from those parts. The men were cheerful. They had fought a battle which would be famous and laid hands on much plunder; that was full measure for them. But both the king and Jarl Haakon were evil tempered.

It was raining when the
Fafnir
lay to at Oslo harbor, a thick windless rain as if summer bled to death. The streets chuckled with muddy water, roofs shimmered wet, the hills were lost to sight. Harald stepped to the wharf shivering. Yes, men grew old. He was not the hell's carle he had been.

Elizabeth had hastened to the dock as soon as word was cried. She had known her husband would return to Oslo, and had driven down with her household. Behind her came the guards, their waterslick helmets and drenched cloaks the only color under heaven. Her daughters and young Olaf were beside her.

She seemed too small and slight to bear the thick woolen mantle she had. Under its cowl, her features were drawn and pale, but the gray eyes kindled as Harald neared. Heedlessly, she ran to take his hands.

"You live," she said. "You weren't hurt. . . God is good to us."

"That's as may be." He looked down at her, and a one-sided smile creased his face. "We had the victory at Niss River—"

"Yes, so I heard from those who came back early." She laughed aloud. "And now you have your wish—king of Denmark!"

"No," he said. "Somehow Svein escaped us and raised too great an army at home. We're no farther along than we've ever been."

She stood quiet. The rain beat in her face and pulled one brown lock across the finely lined forehead. Then her lips opened, as if she had been struck.

"Oh my darling," she whispered.

She took his arm and led him away, toward the hall. "It's nothing," she said. "Next year you will win."

"I know not if I'm man enough to fight a curse," he said.

"Oh, but you're home, my dearest, and you won a mighty battle." She was glad the raindrops running down her cheeks hid the tears.

Olaf stared after them. "It's a bootless war," he muttered. "Best to make peace ere we lose all."

"So you would say!" jeered Magnus.

Thora's eyes left Elizabeth's back. They held anger. "Come," she said in a strained tone. "Let's get out of this damp."

Eystein was being greeted by his wife. He responded absently, scarce able to withhold his gaze from Maria Haraldsdottir. When he looked at her, war and fame seemed child's toys.

It is to be told of Finn Arnason that the Hallanders received him well, he having been a kindly and valiant lord. But he fell sick during the winter and died. His family went to King Svein, who saw to their welfare.

The Danish ruler made great offerings in thanks for his life, and steered his realm as before, keeping a rich and learned court. Though ready to fight or flee again if he must, he was beginning to think that the saints were with him, and was immensely cheered thereby.

Early in winter, he sent men to Halland to bring back Carl and his wife. When they arrived, nervous in their faded finery, Svein took the yeoman alone into a side room and asked: "Well, friend, do you know me, or think you've seen me before?"

Carl fumbled his hat in stumpy fingers and answered awkwardly, "Yes, my lord, I know you now. I knew you when first I saw you. God be praised that what small help I could give you was of use."