The Long Ships (35 page)

Their voices rang sweetly over the water in the clear evening; and as soon as the men at the oars had grasped the rhythm of the hymn, they began to pull in time to it and voted it a fine chantey to row by.

As the singing ceased, they brought the ship to starboard and made her fast to one of the piers beneath the red walls of Westminster.

KING ETHELRED THE REDELESS sat miserably in Westminster, surrounded by rede-givers, waiting to hear the outcome of his negotiations with the Northmen. He had gathered all his warriors together about him, partly to protect his own person in these dangerous times, and partly to keep an eye on the people of London, who had begun to murmur somewhat after the defeat at Maldon. He had his Archbishop with him to help and comfort him, but the latter could achieve little in that direction; and the King’s uneasiness had so increased since the envoys had departed that he had given up hunting entirely and had lost his desire for Masses and women. He spent most of his time swatting flies, at which occupation he was exceedingly skillful.

When, however, he heard that the envoys had returned, having concluded peace with the invaders, he emerged from his melancholy; and when they told him that the chieftains and their crews had come with the Bishops to be baptized, his excitement knew no bounds. He immediately ordered all the bells in the town to be rung, and commanded that the foreigners should be entertained sumptuously; but when he heard that there were two strong ships’ companies of them, he became uneasy again and could not make up his mind whether such tidings should be regarded as excellent or calamitous. He scratched his beard earnestly and consulted his priests, courtiers, and chamberlains on their opinions in the matter. Eventually it was decided that the Vikings should be permitted to encamp in some fields outside the town, but should not be allowed to enter it, and that the guards on the walls should be strengthened; also, that it should be proclaimed in all the churches that the heathens were flocking to London in their multitudes in search of baptism and spiritual education, so that all the people, when they heard this, might sing praise and thanksgiving to their God and King for causing such a miracle to occur. The very next morning, he added, so soon as he had had a few hours to rest and relax after the anxiety of the past fortnight, the envoys would be granted audience; and they might bring with them the chieftains who were to be baptized.

The Northmen proceeded to their camping-ground, and the King’s officers made haste to furnish them with everything that they might require, treating them like royal guests. Before long the air was filled with the crackling of huge fires and the lowing of cattle beneath the slaughter-knife, and there was much demand for white bread, fat cheese, honey, egg-cakes, fresh pork, and ale such as kings and bishops were wont to drink. Orm’s men were rowdier than Gudmund’s, and more exacting in their demands, for they reckoned that, as they were about to be baptized, they had a right to the best of everything.

Orm, however, had something other than the stomachs of his men uppermost in his thoughts, being anxious to visit another part of the town with Brother Willibald, whom he refused to let out of his sight. He was wretched with anxiety lest Ylva should have come to harm, and could still hardly believe that he would find her safe and sound, despite all Brother Willibald’s assurances. He felt certain that she had already promised herself to another, or that she had run away, or been carried off, or that the King, who was said to be much addicted to women, had noted her beauty and had taken her to be his concubine.

They passed through the city gate without hindrance, for the guards dared not oppose the entry of a foreigner accompanied by a priest, and Brother Willibald led the way to the great abbey, where Bishop Poppo was residing as the Abbot’s guest. He had just returned from evensong, and looked older and thinner than when Orm had last seen him at King Harald’s court, but his face lit up with pleasure when he saw Brother Willibald.

“God be praised that you have returned safely!” he said. “You have been away for a long time, and I had begun to fear lest misfortune might have overtaken you on your journey. There is much that I wish to learn from you. But who is this man whom you have brought with you?”

“We sat at the same table in King Harald’s hall,” said Orm, “the time you told the story about the King’s son who got hanged by his hair. But there were many others there besides me, and much has happened since that evening. I am called Orm Tostesson, and I have come to this land commanding my own ship under Thorkel the Tall. And I have come to this place this evening to be baptized and to fetch my woman.”

“He used to be a follower of Mohammed,” put in Brother Willibald eagerly, “but now he wishes to abandon his allegiance to the Devil. He is the man I made well after the last Christmas feast at King Harald’s the time they fought with swords in the dining-hall before the drunken kings. It was he and his comrade who threatened Brother Matthias with spears because he tried to instruct them in Christian doctrine. But now he wishes to be baptized.”

“In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost!” exclaimed the Bishop in alarm. “Has this man served Mohammed?”

“He has been purged and sprinkled by the Bishop of London,” said the little priest soothingly, “who found no evil spirit left in him.”

“I have come to fetch Ylva, King Harald’s daughter,” said Orm impatiently. “She has been promised to me, both by herself and by King Harald.”

“Who is now dead,” said the little priest, “leaving the heathens to war among themselves in Denmark.”

“Holy Bishop,” said Orm, “I should dearly like to see her at once.”

“This matter cannot be settled so simply,” said the Bishop, and bade them seat themselves.

“He has come to London to be baptized, and all his crew with him, for her sake,” said Brother Willibald.

“And he has served Mohammed?” cried the Bishop. “This is indeed a mighty miracle. God still grants me moments of felicity, even though He has seen fit to condemn me to end my days in exile with all my life’s work ruined and set at naught.”

He bade his servant bring them ale and asked for tidings of recent events in Denmark and of all that had happened at Maldon.

Brother Willibald answered him at considerable length; and Orm, despite his impatience, assisted him with such details as he was able to provide; for the Bishop was a gentle and reverend man, and Orm could not find it in himself to refuse him the information he was so eager to obtain.

When they had told the Bishop everything they knew, he turned to Orm and said: “So now you have come to take from me my baptismal child, Ylva? It is no small ambition to seek the hand of a king’s daughter. But I have heard the girl express her feelings in the matter; and she is, God witness, a person who knows her own mind!”

He shook his head and smiled silently to himself.

“She is a charge to make an old man hasten toward his grave,” he continued, “and if you can rule her judgment, you are a wiser man than I am, or than good King Harald was. But the Lord our God moves along mysterious paths; and, once you have been baptized, I shall not stand in your way. Indeed, her marriage would lift a heavy burden from my old shoulders.”

“We have been parted for long enough, she and I,” said Orm. “Do not keep me from her any longer.”

The Bishop rubbed his nose uncertainly and remarked that such zeal was understandable in a young man, but that the hour was late, and that it might perhaps be more advisable to postpone the meeting until after the baptism. In the end, however, he allowed himself to be persuaded, summoned one of his deacons, and bade him rouse four men, go with them to the Lady Ermentrude, greet her from the Bishop, and beg her, despite the lateness of the hour, to permit them to bring King Harald’s daughter to him.

“I have done my best to keep her safe from the eyes of men,” he continued when the deacon had left them, “which was very necessary with a girl of her comeliness in such a place as this is, now that the King and his court and all his soldiers have taken up residence here. She is lodged with the blessed Queen Bertha’s nuns, hard by this abbey; and a troublesome guest she has proved to be, despite the fact that all the nuns treat her most affectionately. Twice she has tried to escape, because, so she said, the life wearied her; and on one occasion, not so long ago, she inflamed the lust of two young men of good family who had caught a glimpse of her in the nuns’ garden and had managed to exchange words with her over the wall. Such was the passion that she aroused in them that they climbed into the convent grounds early one morning, accompanied by their servants and henchmen, and fought a duel with swords among the nuns’ flowerbeds to decide which of them should have the right of wooing her. They fought so desperately that in the end they both had to be carried away, bleeding fearfully from their wounds, while she sat at her window laughing to see such sport. Conduct of this nature is unseemly in a convent, for it may infect the pious sisters’ souls and do them great harm. But I confess that her behavior seems to me to be the result of thoughtlessness rather than of evil intentions.”

“Did they both die?” asked Orm.

“No,” replied the Bishop. “They recovered, though their wounds were grave. I myself joined in the prayers for them. I was sick and weary at the time and felt it a heavy burden to have such a charge upon my hands. I admonished her severely and begged her to accept the hand of one or other of the men, seeing that they had fought so desperately for her sake and were both of noble birth. I told her that I should die easier in my mind if I could see her wedded first. But on hearing this she fell into a frenzy and declared that, since both the young men were still living, their duel could not have been very seriously fought, and that she would hear no more of their suits. She said she preferred the sort of man whose enemies needed no prayers or bandages after fighting. It was then that I heard her mention your name.”

The Bishop smiled benevolently at Orm and bade him not to neglect his ale.

“I had other troubles to contend with in this affair,” he continued, “for the Abbess, the pious Lady Ermentrude, had it in her mind to birch the girl on her bare skin for having incited these men to combat. But seeing that my poor godchild was only a guest in the convent, and a king’s daughter to boot, I succeeded in dissuading her from pursuing this extreme course. It was not an easy task, for abbesses are, in general, unwilling to listen to counsel and have little confidence in the wisdom of men, even when they happen to be bishops. In the end, however, she mitigated her sentence to three days’ prayer and fasting, and I think it was probably fortunate that she did so. True it is that the pious Lady Ermentrude is a woman of adamant will and no mean strength of body, being broader in the loins than most of her sex; none the less, God alone can say with certainty which of their two skins would have smarted the more had she attempted to bring the birch to King Harald’s daughter. My poor godchild might have prevailed, and so have fallen even further from grace.”

“The first time she and I spoke together,” said Orm, “it was plain to me that she had never tasted the rod, though I doubted not that she had sometimes deserved it. As I saw more of her, though, the question ceased to trouble me; and I think I shall be able to manage her, even though she may occasionally prove obstinate.”

“The wise King Solomon,” said the Bishop, “observed that a beautiful woman who lacks discipline is like a sow with a gold ring in her snout. This may well be true, for King Solomon was knowledgeable on the subject of women; and sometimes, when her behavior has troubled me, I have been sadly reminded of his words. On the other hand, and it has often surprised me that this is so, I have never found it easy to feel angry toward her. I like to think that her conduct reflects no more than the frenzy and intemperance of youth; and it may be that, as you say, you will be able to curb her without resorting to chastisement, even when she is your wife.”

“There is a further point worth considering,” said Brother Willibald. “I have often observed that women tend to become more tractable after they have borne their first three or four children. Indeed, I have heard married men say that if God had not ordered it so, the state of wedlock would not be easy to endure.”

Orm and the Bishop expressed their agreement with this observation. Then they heard footsteps approaching the door, and Ylva entered. It was dark in the Bishop’s chamber, for no lamps had yet been lighted; but she straightway recognized Orm and ran toward him crying excitedly. The Bishop, however, despite his years, sprang nimbly to his feet and placed himself between them, with his arms stretched wide.

“Not so, not so!” he cried importunately. “In God’s name, calm yourself, dear child! Enter not into lewd embraces in the sight of priests and in the sacred precincts of an abbey! Besides which, he is not yet baptized. Have you forgotten that?”

Ylva tried to push the Bishop aside, but he stood his ground manfully, and Brother Willibald ran to his assistance and seized her by the arm. She ceased struggling and smiled happily at Orm over the Bishop’s shoulder.

“Orm!” she said. “I saw the ships row up the river and knew that men from Denmark were aboard. Then I saw a red beard next to the helmsman of one of them and began to weep, for it looked like you and yet I knew that it could not be you. And the old woman would not let me come to see.”

She rested her head upon the Bishop’s shoulder and began to shake with weeping.

Orm moved toward her, and stroked her hair, but he did not well know what to say, for he knew little about women’s tears.

“I shall thrash the old woman if you so wish it,” he said. “Only promise me that you will not be sad.”

The Bishop tried to edge him away and to persuade Ylva to sit down, speaking soothing words to her.

“My poor child,” he said, “do not weep. You have been alone in a foreign land among strange people, but God has been good to you. Seat yourself on this bench, and you shall have hot wine with honey in it. Brother Willibald shall go at once to prepare it, and there shall be plenty of honey in it; and bright lights also shall be lit. And you shall taste strange nuts from the southland, called almonds, which my good brother the Abbot has given me. You may eat as many of them as you wish to.”