TLV - 02 - The Road of the Sea Horse (13 page)

A groan went up when the order was cried from ship to ship. "I worked hard for that," mourned Eystein. " I could have bought a half interest in a trading ship with it." But spears were blinking less than a mile behind.

The laden billets drifted lazily, bobbing as the Danish craft neared. Harald grinned when he saw how those stopped and how boathooks reached out. Easier to take what was floating free than to board the Norse and fight for it. But he was not out of sight when a splendid longship which must be Svein's drew up, and he could well think how the king upbraided his men. The Danes got moving again, and once more narrowed the gap.

Harald sighed. "There's no help," he said, "we must lighten ship. Overboard with malt, wheat, bacon; knock out the bungs of the beer kegs and let the stuff run out."

Ulf shuddered. "A thirsty voyage home!"

"What counts," said Harald bleakly, "is getting home at all."

With scant provisions, his vessels went faster, but he could still not outpace the foe. Still the gap closed until a few arrows were falling in his wake. Harald smote a fist into his palm. "We'll have to let most of our captives go," he said. "Bind them to empty casks, rip out the bulwark screens if we haven't wood enough, and throw them overboard."

Thjodholf panted angrily from his oar: "And what the devil will we gain from the summer's work, if we don't bring home so much as a thrall?"

"Your lives," said Harald. "We can hope for better luck next year."

"Always next year," grumbled Thjodholf.

The prisoners, men and women, were linked with ropes to whatever would float and tossed into the sea. There they clung to their bits of jetsam, crying for help as the currents scattered them. Harald nodded when he saw the Danes approach and back water. "They'll be a time fishing their friends out," he said.

"Now row!" bawled Styrkaar. "Row for your worthless lives!"

The fleeing ships sprang ahead, though it seemed like forever before the enemy dwindled out of sight. By that time dusk was closing in, and Harald breathed easier. "We've gotten free," he said. "They'll not follow when they can't see what way we fared."

He found it hard to keep a cheerful mien. This had been a useless season, and he would have to pay the men something to make up for the lost booty. He could not hope for another test of strength; a full levy next year would snap the land's patience. Svein had won; the water had gone through the fishnet and was tumbling merrily seaward. No, before God! That scoundrel would get no rest, not while Harald Hardrede walked the earth.

God and St. Olaf willing, he would be out every summer. He could always find men who would come for the sake of plunder or just to break the sameness of their lives. There would be such a reaving up and down the coasts of Denmark that folk had never seen the like. Landwaster's raven would croak from Scania to the Skaw, and where it had flown only wolves would house. Sooner or later, with his country burning about his ears, Svein Estridhsson would have to master his fears and face Harald Hardrede in open battle; and then this day would be revenged, and Magnus Haraldsson grip the crown of Denmark for a plaything!

The thoughts were venom within him. Had he had men who would follow him, had he had chiefs who saw him as a king and not a foe to be blocked and outwitted, he would not be fleeing like a whipped dog; two realms would be his, and he could be storming int
o a third. But while Einar Tham
baskelfir and Eindridhi Einarsson lived, the Northern empire remained a ghost and Norway's king felt the throne tremble beneath him.

It must not be. Thora would not be driven into exile, Ellisif would not be led bound to the enemy's seat, Magnus and Maria would not have their brains dashed out against a burning wall. And Harald himself, could be set on and slain, or again have to go begging a foreign king for shelter . . . No!

"They have named me Hardrede," he said between his teeth. "They shall find how true it is."

As for Svein, when he saw that the Norse had gotten away he was near weeping with rage. Turning homeward, he came in under Hlesey and saw seven knarrs anchored in a small bay, as if they would hide. When he steered close, he saw that the crews were Norsemen. Fear leaped in their simple red faces, and they held out empty hands as the dragon neared.

"Who are you?" shouted Svein across the water.

"Please, Your Highness, we're King Harald's men; our boats were crippled in the gale and we couldn't flee. We yield t' you."

Svein drew his lips back. "And why should I spare you? You had little ruth at Heidhaby."

The fat man who spoke pointed to a graybeard beside him. "Ask Ingi here, ask young Guthorm, ask any of us. We're common folk, we know naught o' these dealings between kings. The levy were called, so off we went, with no say in the matter. Liefest we'd stayed to home, I swear, my lord. Now give us peace and we'll pay as much ransom as poor men can scrape up."

The king said, with a whiteness about his nostrils: "Bad enough to let Denmark's blight get free, now I must sell even this little victory. Hang them on their own yardarms!"

And then, as his men took weapons: "No . . . wait . . . give them their lives. Let them pay as they offered."

Someday, he thought with fear curdling his innards, he must also be called to judgment.

VII

Of Einar Thambaskelfir

1

When Harald got back to Nidharos, he was still in a black mood that neither the praise of the skalds nor the magnificence of his new home could lift. Finn Arnason, who had returned that summer from his long Viking cruise, waited on the king and invited him to his house, which lay at the mouth of Throndheimsfjord; but he got a surly answer and went off till things should look more hopeful.

Elizabeth was getting heavy with child; she moved slowly and was often sick as she had been the first time, but happiness glowed from her. When they were alone, she ruffled her man's hair and said: "Why do you take it so hard, that fortune should have gone awry this once? You've had more luck than most, and will have it again."

"Have I now?" muttered Harald. He glowered so fiercely that the three-year old Maria dropped her toy boat and ran to cling to her mother's skirts. "Since coming home, I've fought more battles than I can readily count, and have gained nothing. It's the chiefs' fault; while they stand against me I'll never bring home a real victory."

"Perhaps," she said timidly, "if you sought to win their love . . . They were ready to fight for Magnus, were they not?"

"Too late," he said. "It was always too late. I am not Magnus, I've no gift for yielding on one point even to gain another. Now everything I do is wrong in their eyes: were I suddenly to return to Magnus's ways, they'd but think it a trick or a weakness. And even if they believed me, it would— Look you, any king's son has as much right to succeed as any other; the youngest bastard can overthrow the oldest born in wedlock if he can but raise an army. Can you not see the chiefs and the bishops playing one off against another, till civil war Has ruined the land and it lies bleeding and headless? The kingship must be strong or the kingdom is lost. Svein Estridhsson, God rot his soul, knows that much; it's the reason he can come back, again and again, because no Dane has might enough to save himself by dealing with me. But Norway has been too riven. The work of binding her into one is left for me. If I fail, I dread what may happen to our children and grandchildren.

She regarded him strangely. "How much do you think of them," she asked, "and how much of yourself?"

"I know not," he answered. Iron clashed in his tone as he rose. "Nor do I care. I am as I am, and before God, I will never betray myself."

Elizabeth watched him stalk out. Well, she thought, it was what she could expect for having married a whirlwind.

In the following days, Harald rode about the countryside, giving judgment and levying fines and taxes. No one dared speak against him—to his face; even Ulf abated his tongue and retired to his home where Jorunn was with child. But one evening, when Harald and his troops were staying at a large garth, he said to Thjodholf: "Give us a verse. We have too many long faces here." The skald cleared his throat and chanted loudly.

"How one sits or stands

is said by kingly order;

all of his underlings hearken

and after his wishes follow.

But now to his nod the people

do naught but bow as in thrall
dom,

coming and going like cravens

at kingly behest, wolf-feeder."

Harald looked into his half-frightened eyes. "I am not Magnus," he said, "nor are you Sighvat."

The Icelander bit his lip and returned to his bench. Another skald stood up to give more fulsome praise.

2

A Thing was to be held in Nidharos, where lawsuits would be brought forth, and men streamed into the town from the whole Throndlaw. Merchants opened their booths, displaying goods from many lands: Finnish fur and leather and bows; Greenland pelts and walrus ivory; Danish herring, Icelandic wadmal; English silver; Eastern silks and gold work. A few inns had lately been started by men who had seen such places abroad, and they roared day and night.

Einar Thambaskelfir, with his wife and son, sailed down to Nidharos with a mighty following. It was no secret that the sheriff had begun keeping armed men at home, but now he brought nearly five hundred warrior yeomen in eight ships. Harald stood on the gallery of his house by the river. It was a clear cool day in late summer with a breeze gusting down from the mountains. Beside him were Ulf, Styrkaar, and Thora. They had been watching the colorful stream of folk—tall men in fine clothes, gold-bedecked women, yelling children, dogs and pigs and horses and fluttering sparrows. Now Ulf stiffened and squinted down to the river docks, near the place where the stream entered the fjord. "What kind of fleet is that standing in?" he asked.

Harald shaded his eyes. The warcraft rowed to the docks and were tied up, men took the shields hung at the bulwarks and went ashore, a small army rattled up the street. As it neared, Harald cursed. "Einar!" he spat.

"What the devil does he want with such a band?" asked Styrkaar.

"I think he trusts us but little," said Ulf dryly.

The sheriff came by, almost under the gallery. His stout old body was erect, a helmet gleaming on his gray head, an ax over one broad shoulder. Beside him walked his wife Bergljot, wrapped in a marten-trimmed silken cloak, still good to look on for all the years that lined her face. On the other side was Eindridhi, stepping lightly, his yellow mane aloft. They did not look up as they passed the king, but their mouths locked in coldness; the yeoman behind tramped by with thunderous brows, and the whole party wended its way toward Einar's town house.

Harald's clenched fist beat softly on the vine-carved gallery rail; he shivered from the effort it took not to smash splinters out of the wood. "Best we ready the guardsmen," said Ulf.

Harald nodded. As if to himself, he made a verse:

"Here I see faring the fighting

furrower of the billows,

Einar, with all too many

angry men from the water;

surely he hopes, with his hauling

of hosts, to sit in the king's seat;

fewer the folk that I've seen

to follow a jarl on his travels.

"I think he, who thunders on shield rims,

will throw us out of the country,

unless this Einar kisses

the ax edge ere myself do—

He stopped, daunted by the roads his thoughts were taking. Styrkaar said: "Aye, my lord, what else can it be? No man bent on peace carries five hundred swords."

"Perhaps he is only afraid," said Ulf. "He may fear treachery on our part."

"Yes, that's what he thinks of you!" ripped from Thora. "Can such a man ever be aught but a foe?" She grabbed Harald's arm till the nails dug into his sleeve and the flesh beneath. "Do you mean to let him ring in this house and burn it?"

"He may not intend—" began Harald.

His leman stamped her foot. She was some months with child, but as yet it showed little on her full body. The breeze ruffled her smoke-red hair, the greenish eyes were narrowed, her nostrils flared and blood beat up into the wide strong face. "He will!" she cried. "If not now, then later. Hew him down before it's too late!"

He has . . . not given an open cause . . . yet," said Harald.

"Is this the king who conquered the South and chivvied Svein like a fox?" she asked scornfully. "No, you left your heart behind in Denmark this year, like everything else."