The Road to Miklagard

by Henry Treece

  Harald nodded. ‘Nor do I,’ he said.

  PART FOUR

  * * *

  24. The Empty Land

  Late summer turned to autumn, and the days which followed seemed like a long dream to the two travellers. Sometimes it was a gay dream, as when they all gathered on the half deck of the trading ship and sang songs, or told impossible stories, at which Grummoch excelled. At other times it was a frightening dream, as when Harald woke with a start one night to find a dark figure bending over the treasure sack, trying to untie the hide thong with which it was fastened. When the Viking moved, the man ran off into the darkness at the far end of the ship and Harald did not think it wise to follow him. He did not know which of the crew it might be, though the captain, Pazak, gave him a strange look the following morning, as though he wondered whether Harald suspected anyone in particular.

  Yet for the most part, it was a fair enough voyage; the wind held, they put in at friendly villages on the shore of the Inland Sea and got good treatment from the Bulgars there, and never ran short of fresh food and good milk – though sometimes it was the milk of mares and not of cows or goats, and that took some getting used to.

  One evening, Harald stood in the prow of the ship and said to Grummoch, ‘Look, straight ahead lies our port, at the mouth of the big river, the Dnieper. I am now anxious to get back to my village by the fjord with this treasure, for I have been away for over a year and soon the winter will be on us, and travelling will be bad.’

  Grummoch said, ‘Why are you saying this now? What is in your mind, friend Harald? You are a crafty one and seldom speak without some good reason.’

  Harald looked behind him before he answered, to see that no one overheard his words. Then he whispered, ‘It has come to my mind that when we land at the mouth of the big river, we may find ourselves no longer free men; then Pazak will have gained both ways, by taking our treasure and by selling us as slaves. I have no wish to spend the winter so far from my village.’

  Grummoch thought for a while and then said, ‘You are right. Pazak accepted the few coins we offered him, for our passage, without any argument, and that is a bad sign in a sea captain. They usually ask for twice as much as one offers. Now why should Pazak be so meek? Only because he thinks to gain in the end. Yes, you are right, Harald. So what shall we do, then?’

  Harald whispered to him again, and the giant nodded his great head in agreement, smiling broadly all the time.

  So it was that in the night, when the ship lay less than a mile off the river mouth, Harald and Grummoch slipped over the side with their treasure and pushed off in the small landing-raft which was towed at the stern. No one saw them go and though they found it hard work to send the raft through the water with the two boards which they took with them, by dawn they ran to the salt marsh flats beside the mouth of the Dnieper, and waded up to the hard ground above.

  When the sun had gained its strength and warmed them again, they set off northwards, keeping the broad river in sight on their right hand. Beyond the great river stretched an open land, still green with summer, but vast and empty. Though once when they were walking on a little ridge that ran northwards, they looked down and saw a long line of horsemen making their way beside the river, in the direction of the Inland Sea.

  Grummoch shaded his eyes and gazed at them. ‘I have seen men like that before, my friend,’ he said. ‘They are Khazars, riding to meet the trading ship and to buy slaves, no doubt, as well as the wine and fruits Pazak was bringing from Miklagard.’

  Harald stared in the direction of the horsemen. They wore high fur caps and carried long lances. They sat slackly on their ponies, like men who almost lived in the saddle, moving with every movement of their steeds.

  Harald said, ‘I understand the respect in your voice when you mention the Khazars now, Grummoch. They seem a formidable folk.’

  Grummoch nodded and smiled grimly. ‘Yes, my friend, they are,’ he said. ‘Come, let us strike northwards as fast as we can; if they were to see us, they might well swim their horses across the river to come up here after us. They are a curious people, and like to know what strangers are doing in their country.’

  But the Khazars did not seem to notice them, and at the end of the day they came to a small village of skin huts, set in a little hollow. Dogs ran at them, barking, but an old man with long white hair rose from beside a fire and called the animals away. Then he came forward to meet the two, holding his hand to his forehead as a sign of peace. Grummoch, who had picked up more than a smattering of Bulgar and Khazar dialects when he had been a slave among them, spoke to him, asking for shelter and food. The old man led them courteously to his skin tent and gave them bread and meat and mare’s milk. In the morning as they left, he refused to accept any payment for his hospitality, and even sent two of his sons to guide the travellers northwards for some miles, so that they should not lose their way in the marshes which spread out on either side of the great river, from place to place.

  These young men said little, but smiled a great deal, and when they had parted, Harald said, ‘I do not trust men who smile as much as that, friend Grummoch. I suspect that they may well ride to tell the Khazars where we are. What do you think?’

  Grummoch said, ‘It would be no unusual thing if they did, I suppose. Perhaps it would be wise if we were to move away from the river, and try to find ourselves horses somewhere. Great herds of them graze on the plains a little farther to the north.’

  They left the river then and for three days looked for a horse. But it seemed that these creatures had moved to other grazing grounds, for the travellers saw very few of them, and those few were so sensitive of sight and hearing that it was impossible to get near enough to them to catch one. So when the food which they had brought away from the skin village was exhausted, the two men decided that they must go back to the river, where at least they might be fortunate enough to kill wild fowl and so keep themselves from starving.

  One morning, Harald sat down on the river bank and began to laugh. Grummoch stared at him in concern, wondering whether he had lost his reason with hunger. But Harald shook his head and said, ‘No, my friend, I am not mad – only very sane, so sane that I think what fools we are to strike off into this empty land with no more provisions than a bag of treasure! What if we throw the treasure into the river and turn our steps southwards again? We should travel lighter and might even be lucky enough to get a ship to take us back to Miklagard. Perhaps things are better there now. At least, there is food to eat there.’

  Grummoch was about to agree with him, when round the bend of the river came a long, heavily-laden rowing boat, propelled by six oars. At first the two men thought of running away, but then Harald said, ‘Let us wait and see if they mean well; we can always run when we have decided that.’

  When the boat drew level with them, a man in a bright steel helmet called to them, ‘We are Bulgars, trading in Kiev. We are short of two oarsmen. Will you come with us, friends?’

  Grummoch said, ‘I have often heard of Kiev. It seems to be a growing town and I would much like to see it. Shall we go with them?’

  Harald nodded and said, ‘I would go almost anywhere, rather than walk another day across this empty land. It fills my dreams every night. I feel that I shall never see a town again! Let us go with them, by all means.’

  They waded out and were picked up. As they boarded the boat, they were careful not to let their treasure sack rattle this time. They were also careful not to let its weight be seen by the rowers who helped them into the boat, but pretended that the sack contained their cloaks and heavy winter jackets.

  So they became oarsmen in the Bulgar boat, sitting next to each other on the same bench. The merchant, who had hailed them, was a kindly man, and made no secret of the fact that he was glad to have two such strong fellows in his boat. He fed them well and offered them a place at the oars on the return trip, but Grummoch smilingly refused, saying, ‘I have news that my grandmother in Orkney is anxious to talk to me.
You see, she sent me on an errand to a neighbour in Ireland ten years ago, to borrow a dozen eggs that she needed, to make a pudding for my uncle, who is in bed with a bad Caledonian cold. I am afraid I was a bad lad, and forgot about the pudding, and now my uncle is getting restive. So I must go back and tell my grandmother, in Iceland, that her neighbour in Ireland had stopped keeping hens.’

  The merchant stared at Grummoch, whose face was deadly serious.

  ‘I do not understand,’ he said. ‘You said your grandmother was in Orkney, and now you say that she is in Iceland.’

  Grummoch nodded. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘That is so. My family move about so quickly that it does not do to be too long away from them. That is why I am anxious to get back as soon as I can. Otherwise, who knows, grandmother might have run all the way to Miklagard with her rheumatics to look for me.’

  The merchant shook his head and walked away from Grummoch. After that, he did not invite them to sail with him on the return trip.

  But they did not see Kiev. On the eighth day of rowing against the sluggish stream, the merchant allowed them to pull in to the shore to rest and to light fires, for a cold wind had sprung up across the great plains and chilled the oarsmen to the bone.

  Some of the men sat about on the shore, while others wandered here and there, looking for anything that would burn. Grummoch and Harald, carrying their sack, as they always did, walked away from the others, to a stretch of low and stunted scrub which they thought they might uproot for fuel. But the work was hard and after a while they sat down, rubbing their chafed hands and wondering whether it was worth while risking the edges of their swords in trying to cut the tough branches.

  It was when they were talking of this that they heard sudden shrill cries from the direction of the river. At first they paid little attention to these shouts, thinking that some of the men were playing a game to keep themselves warm. But when they heard the merchant’s voice hallooing, they stood up, to look over the scrub and to see what was the matter. They saw two sights which gave them a start; first, they saw that the boat was pulling out as fast as it could go into midstream, and secondly they saw that the hillside above them was lined with men on ponies, men wearing high skin caps and carrying long lances.

  Grummoch spread his chafed hands out and said, ‘What will be, will be! So that was why they were shouting – they wanted us to get back into the boat.’

  But Harald did not answer. He felt too disheartened now to speak. The two men put their swords back into their scabbards, realizing that they could not fight against such odds, and waited for the horsemen to come down the slope and capture them. But for a while nothing happened, and at last Harald said, ‘Come on, let us walk along the river again. Perhaps they mean us no harm.’

  Grummoch merely grunted and shouldered the sack once more. Then they set off walking and, as they did so, the men on horses kicked their mounts forward and rode alongside them, along the crown of the ridge. When the two friends stopped, so did the Khazars; when they walked on quickly, the Khazars spurred on their ponies to a faster speed.

  Grummoch said, ‘They are playing with us, shepherding us to their village. I wish I felt strong enough to leap into the river and try swimming across.’

  Harald answered, ‘That would do no good. Their horses can no doubt swim better than we can, besides, we should be weighed down by the treasure.’

  At last they topped a hill and saw below them a sprawling settlement of skin tents, wagons, and thorn fences. Many fires burned there and horses, cows, and dogs seemed to wander wherever they wished, undisturbed by the swarms of children. From the village came up a babble of voices, shouting, laughter, singing, which was made more confusing by the barking of dogs, the lowing of oxen, and the high whinnying of horses.

  Harald drew his hand across his brows and said, ‘I am not going down there, into that hullabaloo!’ He sat down, but did not stay long on the ground, for a horseman suddenly rode up behind him and urged him forward with the butt end of his long lance. Harald rose again ruefully and went down the slope with Grummoch, between the hordes of shouting children and the grazing cattle.

  Now the silent horsemen began to shout and laugh, swinging their ponies up and round, and then suddenly galloping off furiously to make a circuit of the settlement, throwing their long lances into the air and catching them as they rode. The children shouted out their applause and the dogs barked as though everything was immensely exciting.

  Then the leader of the horsemen prodded the two friends forward towards a big tent of goats’ hair and when they were before the open door, jumped from his pony and pushed them inside.

  An old man sat on a pile of cushions and sheepskins in the centre of the tent, warming his hands by a smouldering cow-dung fire. He was surrounded by small children and dogs, which rolled about on the carpeted floor of the tent happily together, pretending to fight each other, nibbling, wrestling, while the old man surveyed them gently, quietly amused at their antics.

  When the two friends stood before him, however, he waved the children away to the back of the tent, and shooed the dogs after them. Only then did he raise his heavy-lidded eyes and look up at Harald and Grummoch. They saw that his face was incredibly wrinkled and old-looking. His long white moustaches reached almost to his chest and he wore great gold rings in his ears. Beneath his sleeveless jacket of white sheepskin he had on a long robe of heavy red silk stained down the front with wine spots and grease. His fingers, though laden with dull-glinting gold rings, were dirty and their nails cracked and horny.

  He surveyed them in silence for a while, smiling mysteriously, and then he said in perfect Norse, ‘I began to think that my men had lost you. They rode the length of the great river again and again after they had heard about you from the two sons of old Kazan. But sooner or later in this land one finds what one seeks. So they found you at last. And now you can put your treasure sack on the floor. It seems a very heavy burden and there is no need for you to carry it any farther. I shall look after it for you.’

  Grummoch put the sack down, staring wide-eyed at this strange old man. Harald said, ‘How is it, old one, that you speak like a man of the fjords?’

  The old man said, ‘First, I must ask you not to call me “old one” in front of the children, for here it is a rude term of address. I do not want them to pick up bad habits, for they are my grandchildren and must grow up to address me properly. You must call me “King of the Marshland”. As for your question, Viking, it is very easy to answer. I have been in many strange parts in my time, and once spent five years in the north myself, seeking my fortune with the men of Sven Red-eye. But that is all past; I brought back a wife from your folk and she taught me much of your tongue, before, alas, she died. Then later I was lucky enough to buy a slave from some Wends who came this way, trying to get to Miklagard overland. He was a Christian priest and helped me a great deal in the writing of runes, among other things. He died only last year, from overeating when we had our Spring festival. I was sorry to lose him, for he had a most amusing store of tales to tell.’

  Harald said, ‘You are a courteous man, King of the Marshland; why then do you take our treasure – for I will not try to deceive you as to the contents of that sack?’

  The old King nodded slyly and said, ‘It would be better not to try to deceive me about anything at all, for I have long ears and sharp eyes, in spite of my age. But I will answer you: I take your treasure sack to keep it safely for you until you return. You see, I mean you no harm. I intend to send you back to your own land, and I ask in return that you should bring a hundred or two of the men from the fjords down here next year, when the rivers have thrown off their winter ice. When you do that, I shall return your treasure to you – but only then. Is that understood?’

  Grummoch said, ‘What do you want Vikings for, King of the Marshland? Haven’t you men of your own?’

  The old man nodded and said, ‘Yes, I have many men, but they are not good as foot soldiers. Take their ponies from them
and they are useless – why, they can hardly walk, my friend, and the task I wish to accomplish needs men who can fight on foot or on horseback.’

  Harald said, ‘What do you wish to do, King of the Marshland?’

  The old man felt inside his red robe and took out a small ivory ball from an inner pocket. This he flung into the air, without watching where it went, and caught it at the side, behind his back, above his head, anywhere, all the time staring into Harald’s eyes. At last, when he was tired of playing with the ball, he said, ‘I intend to capture the city of Kiev and to become the greatest King that the plains have ever known. And afterwards, I intend to make war on the Franks first, and on the Roman Emperor second. When I have done that, I shall go perhaps to Spain and rule over our Muslim brothers there.’

  Harald gasped at the old man’s dream of power, but he found wit enough to ask ironically, ‘And the north? Will you not conquer the north while you are about it?’

  The old man’s lips twisted in a sardonic smile and he answered the Viking in the same tone which Harald had used.

  ‘No,’ he said, ‘I shall spare the north, provided that you come back in the Spring with two hundred berserks and help me on the first stage of my journey.’

  Harald bowed before him, with sarcasm, then, and said, ‘Very well, King of the Marshland. What will be, will be. We will leave our treasure because we must, and we will go home to the north.’

  The old man smiled and said, ‘You are a sensible young fellow for a Viking, I must say. I shall send you north on good horses, with a strong escort. We shall have to see to that very soon, for in a month the rivers will be ice-bound. So I shall see that you are taken beyond the great portage, and put on a longship there.’