TLV - 03 - The Sign of the Raven (9 page)

"Haakon could be, if you two saw the world the same way."

"But that's the trouble." Harald sat up straight, anger in his voice. "Who is lord in this realm, Haakon Jarl or myself? No, let me but catch that traitor, and he'll ride Odhinn's horse."

"Hanging is no end for a brave man," protested Ulf. "By such deeds you drive the folk to rebellion."

"Would the folk but obey their rightful master, there'd be no need of such deeds!"

Ulf shrugged. "Be not wrathful at me," he said.

"It's too late to change anything . . . and had you been otherwise, old friend, I'd scarce have followed you these many years. Best we take the world as it stands and see what can be wrought."

Harald regarded him at length. "I may have stiffened," he said after a while, "but you have changed."

"A man grows old," said Ulf. "It no longer seems of great moment who shall have what." "Is it your sickness?"

"Perhaps. It plagues me oftener as time goes by. A leech-wife counseled me to live more easily, but the Devil take that. A life spent drowsing by the fire were not worth keeping. One old witch makes me a brew of toad skins that seems to help a little." Ulf made a face. "It should, so foul it tastes!"

"St. Olaf has healed many at his shrine."

"Aye, there I've been, but belike am not pious enough to win his favor; and I'm too set in my ways and have too much sport baiting the priest." Ulf's grin faded. "It hardly matters, Harald. In these late years, everything we have done seems one halloo, with naught to show for it and the world much the same whether we won or lost." His grizzled head nodded, slowly and carefully.

Harald felt an eeriness at the sight, and would not endure the thought. "We must weigh what's to be done," he said briskly. "It were madness to attack Denmark this year, with Haakon ready to pounce. Yet it galls me to have Svein go free."

"I know." Ulf's quick mood shifted, he was again the rasp-tongued troll. "You've gotten into the habit of looting Denmark, and that's not an easy one to break."

"There's been much talk of making peace with Svein," said Harald tonelessly. "Do you join in it?"

"Well . . . I've never been a peacemaker, but you might think on it. What would you gain from winning that crown? A sullen folk, even more troublesome than your Norsemen; a lifetime of border wars against Wendish raiders; your strength and wealth spent on holding a little frog pond. . . . There are better things to do."

"And all the years of trying to go for naught?" cried Harald.

"Before I taught myself to, hm, better my luck with the dice, I would get streaks where they ran against me. At such time I had wisdom enough not to throw away more money seeking to regain what was lost. Moreover, you've won great booty there, and wealth to outfit a mighty host."

"Against whom? The Swedes? It were worth going in there, if only to uproot Haakon Ivarsson. And the Swedish land is broad and good."

Ulf picked his bent nose. "Aye. But think you, Harald, the Swedes are still more stubborn than Norse or Danes . . . and more backward. You have no claim whatsoever to that throne, so you could scarce raise a man of them to fight for you."

"And most of them are heathen," agreed Harald. "Even if I got the kingdom, I would have to give my life to making them Christian or face the Church's ban in truth. It's a worthy work, but not one for which I feel a calling." He laughed sadly. "I thought, once, that kingship was pure power and glory, and naught could stay the king's hand save open defeat in war! Bitter is the wisdom I've gained."

"You'll not settle down to hold what you have," said Ulf. "It's not in you. Well, then . . . you have Haakon to reckon with, but if you can break him we must look for something else. Now, where else have you a claim?"

Harald's eyes looked far off. "England," he murmured.

"It's a mighty task," said Ulf. "Yet you have a certain right there, through Magnus Olafsson's treaty with Hardhaknut. You have the Orkneys and other western islands. You'd have Norsemen to help from Ireland and Scotland. Edward the Good dodders toward his deathbed, with no likely successor but Harold Godwinsson and he a mere earl."

"The crown of the Nort
h," said Harald, as if to himself. "He who held England would have riches and might beyond reckoning. He—or his son—could make short work of Denmark."

"The time is not ripe," said Ulf hastily. "It may never be."

Harald clamped his fists together. "It remains to be seen whether a man can shape the time or must be shaped by it."

Ulf's hardy soul shivered, ever so faintly, as he stared at the giant before him.

2

As soon as Haakon Ivarsson learned that King Harald was gone north, he returned to the Uplands. There he traveled widely about, spoke to many men and won them over to his cause. In fall, when his foe turned horse toward Oslo, Haakon went back to

Sweden. King Steinkell gave him a fief in Varmland, on the Raumariki border; this he steered well through the winter, so that both peoples of the kingdom, Swedes and Goths, also came to love him.

Snow fell, the land lay white and mute, folk huddled into the half sleep of winter. Haakon did not sit idle. After Yule he called up a host and went briefly through the Eidha Forest into Raumariki, where he gathered the taxes that were due him as Upland jarl; thereafter he withdrew to his fief.

When King Harald sent men into the shire to collect scot, the Raumariki yeomen answered that they had already paid to Haakon, and would pay to no one else while he lived and had not forfeited life and honors. Harald's men told them that this he had done, but the Uplanders' spokesman replied that the judgment of outlawry was unlawful, not having been passed by a Thing. They were many more than the royal troop, and well armed, so the bailiffs departed.

They expected fire and fury, and were the more frightened when the king did not move. Only his face changed, growing very white, and he said between his teeth: "This matter will not be let rest."

For days afterward he was not good to speak with.

Some time later, messengers came from Denmark to talk of peace. Harald heard them out, and sent back a cold answer. However, it was not a flat refusal, and Svein got enough hope from it to return another embassy. In the meantime, the best of the Norse court—Ulf, Eystein, Thjodholf, Thori of Steig, and others—urged an end to the war. "Our folk are weary, too many women are in mourning, surely God has shown He will not give us victory."

The king listened moodily, but when the Danish envoys came afresh he gave them a courteous welcome.

There was a day of darkling skies, the town gray and white, a few small snowflakes drifting windlessly earthward. Magnus and Olaf, who had become somewhat better friends as they grew up, were out for a breath of air and walked to and fro the courtyard. A pair of thralls were carting dung from the stables, otherwise no one was about; a single crow perched sadly on the storehouse rooftree.

Magnus stooped, made a ball of the crusted snow, and threw it at the bird. At fifteen, he was getting his growth, a slim long-legged boy with flowing hair and bright restless eyes. He laughed to see the crow flap off. Breath smoked from his mouth.

"Why did you so?" asked Olaf. A year younger, he was becoming big and heavy boned, still much given to silence; men said that in spite of being overly peaceful, he was wise beyond his years. "What harm had the bird done you?"

"What matters that?" answered Magnus. "He sat there waiting to have something thrown at him. Let him fight me, or bring suit at the Thing, if he feels it an injustice."

"Can you not bear justice within yourself?"

"You talk like a priest. Would you be a monk?"

"No," said Olaf gravely. "The world is too fair. But I'd not go seeking fights."

"Small wonder that father yells at you so often. He does at me, too, but it's a different anger."

Magnus wiped wrist across nose and tossed back his thick locks of hair. "When I am king, you'll see some real warfare!" "What boots it?"

"Why . . . wealth, strength, fame!"

"Wealth is better built than stolen; strength better kept for use when really needed; and there is more than one kind of fame. What has father gained in all his years of striving?"

Magnus' eyes widened, and he looked around him almost in fright. "Let him not hear you say that!"

"I say what I will," replied Olaf steadily, "though most times I find it best to keep my own counsel."

Magnus scratched his head. "You're an odd one."

They paced for a while, talking of other matters. Magnus tried to speak of the battle at the Niss like an old warrior, and of the girl he had lately bedded as if she were the hundredth rather than the first, but had an uneasy feeling that his brother held back a grin.

A door opened in the ladies' bower, and Elizabeth came out with her daughters and a couple of servant women. She smiled shyly at the boys. "Good day," she said.

Magnus nodded stiffly, he had long ago taken his mother's side, but Olaf showed her the same aloof courtesy he gave all the world. Ingigerdh said: "We were weaving in there, but it got too dark. Hoo, it's cold today!" She rubbed her hands: a plump apple-cheeked girl of fourteen, neither fair nor ugly, the one who was always only half remembered.

Maria outshone her too much. In eighteen years she had reached the full bloom of her youth, tall and slender, white skinned and high
-
breasted, with lustrous sorrel tresses and a face carved thin and lovely. There seemed a sadness on her, though she did not speak of it.

"Best I go in," said Magnus frostily. "The king is talking privately with the Danes, but he may have need of me." He walked off stiff legged.

Elizabeth's lips twitched, and she was surprised to see the same smile hover on Olaf. "Know you how the talk fares?" she asked.

"No," said Olaf, "no man knows that."

"I hoped . . ." Elizabeth sighed. "No matter. Let him decide; none else can do it."

"My mother
..."
Olaf stopped, reddening.

"Yes?" said Elizabeth gently.

"My mother counsels war to the end," he blurted. "She should remember it's not an affair for women.
...
I meant no offense, my lady."

"None taken, Olaf. It's truth you speak."

He mumbled some excuse and followed Magnus.

Elizabeth looked after him. "When that lad grows up, he will be a wise man," she said. "I think already he knows how much may be done simply by waiting."

"As Svein E
stridhsson has waited?" said In
gigerdh.

"Yes." The queen dismissed her servants and began to walk the courtyard. Her daughters accompanied her on either side. Snow scrunched beneath their feet, otherwise the court lay frozen into silence.

"I wonder if King Svein does not have tomorrow with him," she went on after a moment. "He uses his head."

"Father is a man of deep mind," said Ingigerdh staunchly.

"Yes . . . deeper, perhaps, than anyone knows, even himself. Who can tell what he means to do, or how much he has already done? It's a lonely work he has—the last and greatest of the Vikings, seeking the end of the Viking age. I know not, I know not. . . ." Her voice faded away. A few snowflakes swirled down to lie on her cowl.

"If we get peace with Denmark," said Maria, "then Thora will be ill pleased." More than a little malice was in her tone.

Elizabeth flushed. "Peace would be best," she said, "but peace or war, none of us is to say a word against it. A woman who can wait—a lifetime if she must—and stand by her man in good and ill, wisdom and madness—which Thora cannot—such a woman has hope."

"Waiting!" said Maria bitterly.

Elizabeth gave her a glance of compassion. "Yes, it is the hardest part," she said. "To wait, and not to wish death on anyone else, but to accept God's will—it is no easy thing to be a Christian."

The girl looked away. "Think you father will end the war?" she asked in a hurried slur.

Elizabeth's hands writhed together. "I know not. Never a word will I say if he chooses to fight, but—Christ give it be peace!"

3

In spring, Harald and Svein called out goodly fleets and made a stormy passage to the Gota border between their kingdoms. Men knew the meeting would be to discuss terms, but none could say it would not end in battle.