When all the booty had been shared out and stored aboard, it was decided that Toke should be permitted to bring his girl aboard Krok’s ship, though it was heavily laden; for they agreed that he had deserved such a reward for his part in the storming of the fortress. They then held counsel regarding the question of the homeward voyage, and agreed that they should return along the Asturian and Frankish coasts if the weather was bad, but that if it was good, they should try to make for Ireland, thence to proceed homewards round the Scottish islands; for, with such booty as they had, it would be taking an unnecessary risk to sail through frequented waters, where they might encounter other ships.
They ate and drank as much as they could hold, having now an abundance of food and drink, more indeed than they could take with them; and all the men were merry and excited, telling one another what they would buy with their new-found wealth when they reached home. Krok was by this time himself again; but the captain of one of the other ships had fallen in the fortress, and Berse took command of his vessel. Toke and Orm sat down to their old oars in Krok’s ship, finding it easy work with the current to help them; and Toke kept a close eye on his girl, who spent most of the time sitting by him, and was careful to see that nobody came near her without good cause.
1. The Strait of Gibraltar.
CHAPTER FIVE
HOW KROK’S LUCK CHANGED TWICE, AND HOW ORM BECAME LEFT-HANDED
THEY rowed down to the mouth of the river on the ebb tide and offered up a skin of wine and a pot of flesh for the homeward voyage. Then they set sail, shipped their oars, and moved out under a gentle wind into the long sweep of the bay. The heavily laden ships lay deep in the water and made slow progress; and Krok remarked that they would have to row until their arms ached before they saw their home shores again. Orm afterwards, in his old age, used to say that these were the unluckiest words he had ever heard spoken, for, from that moment, Krok’s luck, which had hitherto been so good, suddenly broke, just as though a god had heard him speak and had decided there and then to make him a true prophet.
Seven ships appeared round the southern point of the bay, heading northwards. On sighting Krok’s ships, however, they turned into the bay and approached them at a great pace, their oars moving nimbly through the water. They were ships such as Krok’s men had never before set eyes on, being long and low and very light in the water, and were filled with armed men, wearing black beards and strange coverings on their helmets. The men who were rowing them, two at each oar, were naked, and their skins a polished black-brown. They headed toward the Vikings amid hoarse cries and the sharp tumult of small drums.
Krok’s three ships at once came abreast of each other, keeping close to the land on their side of the bay, in order to avoid being encircled. Krok was unwilling to give the order to lower sail; for, he said, should the wind rise, it would be to their advantage. Toke made haste to hide his girl among the bales of booty, piling them around and even on top of her, so as to protect her from spears and arrows. Orm helped him; then they took their places at the gunwale with the others. By this time Orm was well armed, for he had provided himself with a mail shirt and a shield and a good helmet from the fortress. A man standing near them wondered whether these strangers might perhaps be Christians, bent on revenge; but Orm thought it more likely that they were the Caliph’s men, since no cross was visible on their shields or standards. Toke said that he was glad that he had quenched his thirst before the fighting began, for it looked as though it might be hot.
“And such of us as survive the day,” he said, “will have a story worth telling our children; for these men have a savage air about them, and they far outnumber us.”
By this time the foreigners had approached to within a short distance, and they now assailed the Vikings with showers of arrows. They rowed cunningly, slipping round the Viking ships and attacking them from all sides. The ship that Berse was commanding lay next to the shore, so that they could not surround her; but Krok’s own ship lay at the extreme right of the three, farthest from the land, and was at once engaged in hard fighting. Two of the strangers' ships drew alongside her on the seaward side, the one lying beyond the other. They grappled the three vessels together with chains and iron hooks; then the men from the outer ship, yelling wildly, jumped across to the inner one, whence they all swarmed on to the Viking ship. They poured aboard her in overwhelming numbers, fighting very fiercely and skillfully, so that Krok’s ship, by now very low in the water, lagged sadly behind her two companions. Then a third enemy ship managed to slip round her bows and grapple her on the shoreward side. So the situation now was that Berse’s ship and the third Viking vessel had managed to get clear of the bay, though they had four enemy ships harrying them and were hard pressed to hold them off, while Krok’s ship was engaging three opponents singlehanded. At this stage of the battle the wind rose, so that both Berse’s ships were driven still farther from the shore, with fierce fighting raging aboard them and broad ribbons of blood trailing behind them in the water.
But the men in Krok’s ship had no time to worry about how their companion vessels were faring, for they had their hands more than full with their own adversaries. So many foemen had climbed aboard over one of the gunwales that the ship had heeled over and was in danger of sinking; and though many of the raiders were hewn down and fell into the water or back into their own ship, a high proportion of them remained aboard, while others were swarming to their assistance from both sides. Krok fought bravely, and such of the foreigners as challenged him soon ceased their whooping; but before long he recognized that the enemy’s superiority in numbers was too great. Then he threw aside his shield, sprang on to the gunwale and, swinging his ax with both hands, severed two of the chains that bound his ship to the enemy; but a man whom he had felled clutched hold of one of his legs, and in the same instant he received a spear through the shoulders and toppled head-long into the enemy ship, where many of his foes fell upon him, so that he was taken prisoner and bound fast.
After this, many of Krok’s men were slain, though they defended themselves to the limit of their strength, and at last the whole ship was overrun, apart from a few men who were hemmed forward, including Toke and Orm. Toke had an arrow in his thigh, but was still on his feet, while Orm had received a blow on his forehead and could scarcely see for the blood that was running down into his eyes. Both of them were very weary. Toke’s sword broke on the boss of a shield, but as he stepped backwards his foot struck against a firkin of wine that had been captured in the fortress and had been stored in the bows. Throwing aside the stump of his sword, he seized the firkin with both hands and raised it above his head.
“This shall not be wasted,” he muttered, and hurled it against the nearest of his foes, crushing two of them and tripping up several others who fell over their bodies.
Then he cried to Orm and the others that there was nothing more to be done in the ship and, with those words, jumped head-first into the sea, in the hope of swimming ashore. Orm and as many of the others as could disengage the enemy followed suit. Arrows and spears pursued them, and two of them were hit. Orm dived, came up, and swam as hard as he could; but, as he was often to observe in his old age, few things are more difficult than swimming in a mail shirt when a man is tired and his shirt is tight. Before long neither Toke nor Orm had the strength left to swim farther, and they were on the point of sinking when one of the enemy’s ships overtook them, and they were dragged on board and bound fast, without being able to offer any resistance.
So the Vikings were defeated, and their victors rowed ashore to examine what they had won and to bury their dead. They cleared the decks of the ship they had captured, throwing the corpses overboard, and began to rummage through its cargo, while the prisoners were led ashore and sat down on the beach, well guarded, with their arms bound. There were nine of them, all wounded. They waited for death, staring silently out to sea; but there was no sign of Berse’s ships or of their pursuers.
Toke sighed and began to mumble t
o himself. Then he said:
“Once, thirsty, I
Wasted good ale.
Soon shall I taste
Valhalla’s mead.”
Orm lay on his back, gazing up at the sky. He said:
“At home in the house
That saw me grow
Would I were seated now
Eating sour milk and bread.”
But none of them was sicker at heart than Krok; for, ever since the beginning of their expedition, he had regarded himself as a lucky man and as a hero, and now he had seen his luck crumble within the hour. He watched them throwing his dead followers overboard from what had been his ship, and said:
“The plowers of the sea
Earned for their toil
Misfortune and a foul
And early death.”
Toke observed that this was a remarkable coincidence, that three poets should be found in so small a company.
“Even if you cannot fully match my skill at composing verses,” he said, “yet be of good cheer. Remember that it is granted to the poets to drink from the largest horn at the banquet of the gods.”
At this moment they heard a piercing shriek from the ship, followed by a great hubbub, signifying that the foreigners had discovered Toke’s girl in her hiding-place. They brought her ashore, and an argument seemed to be developing over who should have her, for several men began quarreling in high-pitched voices, their black beards going up and down. Toke said: “Now the crows are disputing for possession of the hen, while the hawk sits nursing his broken wing.”
The girl was led forward to the chieftain of the foreigners, a fat man with a grizzled beard and gold rings in his ears, clad in a red cloak and holding in his hand a silver hammer with a long white shaft. He studied her, stroking his beard; then he addressed her, and they could see that the two of them understood each other’s language. The girl had plenty to say, pointing several times in the direction of the prisoners; but to two of his questions, when he also pointed toward them, she made a negative gesture with her hands and shook her head. The chieftain nodded and then gave her an order, which she seemed reluctant to obey, for she raised her arms toward the sky and cried out; but when he spoke to her again, in a severe voice, she became submissive and took her clothes off and stood naked before him. All the men standing around them sighed and tugged their beards and murmured with enraptured voices, for from the crown of her head to the soles of her feet she was exceedingly beautiful. The chieftain ordered her to turn round and examined her closely, fingering her hair, which was long and brown, and feeling her skin. Then he stood up and laid a signet ring, which he wore on one of his forefingers, against her belly and breasts and lips; after which, addressing some remark to his men, he took off his red cloak and wrapped it about her. On hearing his words, all his followers placed their hands against their foreheads and bowed, murmuring obsequiously. Then the girl dressed again, retaining, however, the red cloak, and food and drink were given to her, and everybody treated her with reverence.
The prisoners watched all this in silence; and when it reached the stage where the girl was given the cloak and was offered food and drink, Orm remarked that she seemed to have the best luck of all Krok’s company. Toke agreed, and said that it was a hard thing for him to see her in all her beauty only now for the first time, when she was already another man’s; for he had had little time with her, and they had always had to hurry; and now, he said, he could weep to think that he would never have the opportunity to split the skull of the potbellied graybeard who had soiled her body with his greasy fingers.
“But I cling to the hope,” he added, “that the old gentleman will get little joy out of her; for, from the first moment that I saw her, I found her intelligent and of excellent taste, even though we could not understand each other’s conversation; so that I think it cannot be long before she will stick a knife into the guts of that old billy-goat.”
All this while, Krok had been sitting in deep silence, weighed down by his fate, with his face turned toward the sea, unable to take any interest in what was happening on shore. But now, all of a sudden, he uttered a cry, and as he did so, the foreigners began to gabble excitedly among themselves, for four ships had appeared far out in the bay, rowing toward the land. They were the ships that had fought Berse, and were rowing slowly; and soon they could see that one of them was lying very deep in the water, badly damaged, with the center of one of its gunwales smashed in, and many of its oars broken.
At this spectacle, the prisoners, though dispirited at their own plight, faint from their wounds and much troubled by thirst, broke into shouts of delighted laughter. For they realized at once that Berse had succeeded in ramming this ship, once the wind had risen out in the open sea, and that the enemy had had to break off the fight when they found themselves with only three sound ships left, and had rowed back with the damaged one. Some of them now began to hope that Berse might return and rescue them.
But Krok said: “He has lost many men, for he had enemies aboard and his hands full when last I saw him. And he must have guessed that few of us can be left alive, since he has not seen our ship come out of the bay; so he is more likely to try to reach home safely with what he has, either in both his ships or, if he has too few men left to man both, in one of them. Should he reach Blekinge safely, even if only with one ship, the story of Krok’s expedition will be told in the Listerland and will be well remembered in the years to come. Now, however, these men will surely kill us, for their anger will be greater now that two of our ships have escaped their clutches.”
In this, though, Krok was proved a false prophet. They were given food and drink, and a man came to look at their wounds; and then they realized that they were to become slaves. Some of them regarded this as preferable to death, while others were doubtful whether it might not prove a worse fate. The foreign chieftain had his galley slaves brought ashore and let them speak with the Vikings. They seemed to hail from many different lands and addressed them in various strange mumblings, but none of them spoke any language that the prisoners could understand. The foreigners remained in this place for a few days, putting their damaged ship in order.
Many of the oarsmen in this ship had been killed when Berse had rammed it, and the captured Vikings were set to replace them. They were well used to rowing, and at first they did not find the work too arduous for them, especially as, in this ship, there were two men to each oar. But they had to row almost naked, of which they were much ashamed, and each man had one leg chained. Their skin was almost white compared with that of the other slaves, and their backs were sorely flayed by the sun, so that they came to regard each sunrise as another turn of the rack. After a time, however, they became tanned like their fellows, and ceased to count the days, and were conscious of nothing but rowing and sleeping, feeling hunger and thirst, drinking and eating and rowing again, until at last they reached the stage where, when harder rowing than usual had made them weary, they would fall asleep at their oars and continue rowing, without falling out of time or needing to be aroused by the overseer’s whip. This showed them to have become true galley slaves.
They rowed in heat and in fierce rain, and sometimes in a pleasant cool, though it was never cold. They were the Caliph’s slaves, but they had little knowledge of whither they were rowing or what purpose their labor might be serving. They rowed beside steep coasts and rich lowlands, and toiled painfully up broad and swiftly flowing rivers, on the banks of which they saw brown and black men and occasionally, but always at a distance, veiled women. They passed through the Njörva Sound and journeyed to the limits of the Caliph’s dominions, seeing many rich islands and fine cities, the names of which they did not know. They anchored in great harbors, where they were shut up in slave-houses until the time came for them to put out to sea again; and they rowed hard in pursuit of foreign ships till their hearts seemed to be about to burst, and lay panting on the deck while battles that they had no strength to watch raged on the grapplings above them.
In his old age Orm used to say that this period in his life was lengthy to endure, but brief to tell of, for one day resembled another so that, in a sense, it was as though time was standing still for them. But there were signs to remind him that time was, in fact, passing; and one of these was his beard. When he first became a slave, he was the only one among them so young as to be beardless; but before long his beard began to grow, becoming redder even than his hair, and in time it grew so long that it swept the handle of his oar as he bowed himself over his stroke. Longer than that it could not grow, for the sweep of his oar curtailed its length; and of all the methods of trimming one’s beard, he would say, that was the last that he would choose.
The second sign was the increase in his strength. He was already strong when they first chained him to his place, and used to rowing in Krok’s ship, but a slave has to work harder than a free man, and the long bouts of rowing tried him sorely and sometimes, in the first few weeks, made him sick and dizzy. He saw men burst their hearts, spewing bloody froth over their beards, and topple backwards over the benches with their bodies shaking violently, and die and be thrown overboard; but he knew that he had only two choices to make: either to row while his fellows rowed, even if it meant rowing himself to death, or to receive the kiss of the overseer’s whip upon his back. He said that he always chose the former, though it was little to go for, because once, during the first few days of his slavery, he had felt the whip, and he knew that if he felt it again, a white madness would descend upon him, and then his death would be certain.
The Long Ships Page 7
