TLV - 02 - The Road of the Sea Horse (20 page)

Harald pursued, striking and shooting at their backs, till he was sure they were a broken force. Then he returned to the beach.

Among sweating, panting, wildly cheering warriors he saw no few bitter faces. Kalf's ship lay canted, and the chief was there, stretched along a bench. Someone had closed his eyes and folded his hands, but flies clouded the thickening blood.

Ulf walked stiff-legged up to Harald. The lines from nose to mouth were drawn tight, gashes across his face, and he breathed heavily. "You sent Kalf to his death!" he stormed.

"All men are born fey," said Harald. "And we whipped the enemy; that's what we came hither for."

"In God's name, why? He was your friend!"

"That he was not," said Harald, "and I'll give you no yea or nay if you accuse me, but say merely that I'm not ill content."

He looked into the sky, up to the wan daylight moon, and made a verse:

"Thirteen men I've had murdered,

manslaughters unforgotten;

honor drove me to evil:

with evil is evil rewarded.

Ever 'twas hard to answer

with aught but betrayal a traitor;

lies bear each other's likeness;

leechcraft uses a sickness."

Ulf turned wrathfully away, and it was some time before he yielded his friendship again. But Styrkaar guffawed and repeated the verse for others.

With Fyen helpless before them, the Norse thrust inland, fighting and burning and taking home a mighty booty. Afterward Harald returned to Oslo to oversee the work there, and got news that Jarl Orm Eilifsson had died.

5

Finn Arnason had sat home during the summer, busying himself with small affairs that swarmed like ants to fill a man's days. Toward the end of the season, he ordered butchering and brewing and other preparations made for a great feast, with which he meant to welcome Kalf back.

It was a day of fine, misty rain when one of the thralls cried that ships were standing in. The sheriff flung a cloak over his shoulders and stumped eagerly out. Through the drizzling air, he could just spy the three dragons which neared his dock, shadow ships in a shadow world. About him, the planks thundered with feet, housefolk getting in each other's way, shouting importantly to fetch hawsers. One little boy leaned too far in his excitement and went into the water; hoo, hoy, a turmoil and a dozen boathooks and a spanking for him! Finn smiled, trying to forget the ache in his bones.

The nearest vessel drew in her larboard oars, men grabbed flung ropes and pulled, sea-battered strakes thumped against bollards. Her skipper sprang to the dock. "Where's Finn Arnason?" he cried.

"Here I am." The sheriff groped forward. Raindrops sat in his gray beard. He blinked at the captain. "Who are you? Oh, yes, to be sure, Gautrek Highbreeks; I remember you now. Did you have a good voyage? Where's my brother?"

The seaman looked away. "Kalf is dead," he answered slowly.

Finn stood very quiet, leaning on his spear.

"He died in Fyen," went on Gautrek. "We found a churchyard and buried him there. Our chaplain said Mass for him. . . . The king would not let us go home before he did himself."

Finn shook his head, as if he had taken a blow.

"He died bravely," said Gautrek in a clumsy voice. "He fell against heavy odds. Few of us were left after that battle, only enough to man three ships. We burned the rest."

"Well—" Finn stopped.

Men were making the other craft fast and stretching sails to shield the cargo; they spoke little, and in hushed tones. The thin rain hid the other shore; water dripped from the boathouse eaves like tears.

"Well," said Finn, "come up to the hall. We'll have food in a short while."

"There was never a more valiant man than Kalf Arnason," said Gautrek, matching his slow pace. "All mourn him. It's like, well, an old tree which has stood all your life, and then suddenly lightning strikes it. The sky looks empty afterward."

"One by one," said Finn. He nodded, the careful nod of an aging man. "One by one."

Gautrek looked around, then brought his mouth close to the sheriff's ear. "If you want revenge on that wolf we call king, then I'm your man."

"Eh?" Finn halted. The soaked mantle dripped at his feet; soon he stood in a puddle. "What mean you?"

"Know you not? Harald Hardrede slew him, as surely as if he'd wielded the blade himself. He sent us to meet an overwhelming force of Danes, and held back his own men till we were beaten and Kalf dead."

"I cannot believe it," whispered Finn.

Gautrek spat. "You must be simpleminded indeed, if ever you thought the king would make peace with Kalf."

Finn stared at the gray blur which was his world. "And I summoned him home," he said.

Abruptly he straightened, lifting the spear, and shouted forth: "Now God be my witness, from this moment I'm Harald's foe! Here and now, before you all, I curse Harald Hardrede. I swear to do him no less ill than he's done me. Christ above, I ask You, where is Your honor, that You have not already cast him into hell?"

Gautrek shuddered and crossed himself. "Speak not so—" he began, but Finn did not hear. He raved for minutes before silence returned to him. Then he stood shaking as if with an ague.

When finally he spoke again, it was in a dulled voice. "Come with me to the hall, friends. We've much to talk about." He led the way and himself told Bergljot the news.

In the next few days he worked calmly, setting his affairs in order and gathering ships and men. With no small following, he bade Norway farewell and sailed off for Denmark.

There he sought out Svein, who gave him a friendly welcome and spoke long with him in private. It ended with Finn and his family swearing troth to the Danish king, who made him jarl in Holland. Here he steered the defenses against his countrymen, the Norse Vikings, and was often in battle with them.

He had thought to meet Haakon Ivarsson and lay plans for a return under the rebel banner. But this was not to be.

XI

How Haakon Ivarsson Came Home

1

There was a man named Asmund, son of King Svein's lately dead brother Bj
ö
rn. As a boy he was handsome, brave, and gallant, so that all adored him, not least the king his uncle. When his beard started to grow, he was taken into the royal guard and shown every honor. He was now a big, thick-shouldered youth, with good-looking features, dark hair, and sulky lips, and was rich enough to keep a following of his own. But these were a raffish, murderous crew, and their wildness soon entered Asmund's blood until he was guilty of no few manslayings himself.

After upbraiding him vainly for some months, Svein discharged him from the guard, but gave him a fief to support him with his men and mistresses. Scarcely had Asmund moved there, when he began gathering more companions of the same sort, until his lawful income could not be stretched to feed them. So he laid hands on much more of the king's goods than was his right.

When Svein heard of this, he summoned Asmund to him and said: "For the sake of our kinship
and the love I ever bore you and your father, as well as because Christ tells us to forgive those who work harm, I will still be patient with you. Give up your fief and your evil friends, come back to the guards, and this shall be forgotten. Otherwise it will go ill for you, my friend."

The youngster agreed gloomily, and behaved himself for a time. Then one night he could endure it no longer, so he fled, and sought out his old comrades. They lived in northern Sealand for a while like robbers, stealing and killing and raping among the folk. Finally Svein rode thither with a troop, surrounded Asmund's house, and had him brought back in chains to Roskilde. There he was locked away for a while, it being the king's hope that this would make him repent.

But no sooner was Asmund released than he broke every promise he had given and left. He gathered men and goods to outfit a longship, and in this he went as Viking both abroad and at home, sparing naught that came under his sword.

Haakon Ivarsson had lain out summer and winter with his ships. When he heard of heathen raiders, he attacked and slew those he could catch, and sometimes sought their own lands to punish them with fire and iron. But most of the time it was only a dreary lying at anchor, in rain and snow and paint-blistering sun, and his soul chafed. When he visited the king, he was always shown honor and given fine gifts, but it still seemed to him he was making little headway in the world; and often the image of Ragnhild Magnusdottir drifted through his thoughts.

In the same summer that Harald Hardrede plundered across Fyen, Asmund Bjarnarson's ship came to Lolland, where he sacked and burned no few thorps. The yeoman and fishers looked at ash which had been their homes, buried stripped and bloody things which had been dear to them, and sent men to put their grievance before the king.

Svein was in a black temper, the news from Fyen was a knife at his soul. . . . Dear God, how long must the land hold out? When could he lay his weary bones to rest? He looked at the hairy, rough-handed men who stood half afright to plead with him, and snapped:

"Why do you come to me? Why go you not to Haakon Ivarsson? He's my chief of defenses down there, and it's his task to give you cotters peace and block off the Vikings." His lip lifted. "I've heard tell that Haakon is a valiant man; but now it seems he's fain to keep away from such places as danger may visit."

When the commoners had gone, Svein sat for a while with his face buried in his hands. Thereafter he called for his chaplain, for it seemed he must have sinned in laying his own faults at another man's door.

But his words were carried, with additions, to Haakon. The Norseman sat quiet during his meal, then said frostily: "Busk yourselves, my boys, we've got work to do."

His ships slipped from the harbor, out into choppy seas under a long slant of rain. At Lolland he made inquiries and learned that Asmund had last been seen going northeast, toward Mon. The wind was strong and favoring; he crammed on sail recklessly and steered thither while his crews bailed out what waves broke over the sides.

Erelong the chalk cliffs of Mon Island lifted before him. Haakon ran close to them, ignoring the chance of shipwreck. Several days' rain ended as he sailed, a dirty wrack of clouds whipped over the sky, and the pale hurrying sun slipped westward. There was still daylight when he descried a dragon lying to under the steeps.

He waved his steersman to edge nearer, and stood up. The drenched cloak hung soggily about his rust-spattered byrnie, one splash of red in a world all gray and white; even at war, Haakon was careful about his dress. "Hoy, there!" he bawled. "Halloo, this is the king's coastal defense. Who are you?"

A man's voice returned through the din of surf: "This is the ship of Asmund Bjarnarson, the king's kinsman. Go your way. We have this anchorage already."

"Strike the masts," cried Haakon to his little fleet, "and ready for battle."

His own longship rowed ahead of the others, up toward Asmund's where the Vikings were donning mail and snatching shields. Haakon took a bow and shot at them. The string hummed and sang without rest. Arrows and spears made answer, until the two ships grated together and grappling hooks bit into bulwarks. Then Haakon took his sword and led the boarding party.

A richly clad youth in the bows shouted: "You'll hang for this! I'm the king's nephew!" Haakon was too busy to reply.

Another ship lay alongside. Now the Vikings were outnumbered; and still more guardsmen poured in, crossing decks to do so. The Vikings fought hard, Asmund not the worst, but their luck was over. Erelong Haakon's folk had cleared the hull and won up to the raider captain and his last men.

Haakon himself encountered the youth. Ever his skill laid shield in the path of enemy sword. And his own blade carved. Asmund began crying, less in fear than in rage. He lunged forward, blind with the blood running into his eyes. Haakon chopped at his leg and the Viking toppled. The last thing Asmund saw was the Norseman stooping above to cut off his head.

Haakon ordered the few prisoners killed and every Viking body
cast overboard; but he kept As
mund's head. Next morning, with his own dead honorably wrapped, he ordered a course for Hafn.

Two days later King Svein was at meat when hoofbeats clattered outside. His mood was better than formerly, since he had just been sent a Book of Hours from Italy. It lay on the table beside him; he would not touch the lovely binding with greased fingers, but his eyes caressed it.

"What's that?" he asked absently when the noise resounded. Turning to Bishop William, his guest, he went on: "This makes the two hundred and fourth book I have. Not so ill for a once landless outlaw, think you? I hope to have a thousand before I die."

"Beware the sin of pride, my lord," said the bishop.

"But who could not be proud of this? Wait till I show it to you, Your Reverence. Never have I seen such work with gold leaf, and the little figures are almost alive; ho, ho, an elfin kingdom for my own!"