The Long Ships

by Frans G. Bengtsson

  “If that is so,” he said, “they have lived long enough.”

  They drew their swords. Orm and Toke still carried those which the Lady Subaida had given to them, and Toke had not yet succeeded in finding any name for his sword as good as Blue-Tongue.

  “Our duty to Krok comes before our duty to Almansur,” said Orm. “All of us have vengeance to reap here. But mine comes first, because I am his successor as chieftain. You two run behind the warehouse, to stop their escaping that way.”

  The warehouse had a door in each of its shorter walls. Orm entered through the nearest and found the six men inside, talking to the trader. The latter, when he saw Orm enter with his sword drawn, slunk away behind some sacks, but the six men from the ship drew their weapons and shrieked questions at him. It was dark and confined in the warehouse, but Orm at once picked out one of the men who had killed Krok.

  “Have you said your evening prayer?” he cried, and hewed at the man’s neck so that his head flew from his shoulders.

  Two of the others immediately attacked Orm, so that he had his work cut out to defend himself. Meanwhile the other three ran to the back door; but Toke and Gunne were there before them. Toke felled one of them on the spot, crying out Krok’s name, and aimed a savage blow at the next man; but there was little room to maneuver, because the warehouse was small and crowded with goods, to say nothing of the men who were fighting in it. One man jumped up on a bench and tried to aim a blow at Orm, but his sword caught in a rafter, and Orm flung his shield into the man’s face. The spike on his shield entered the other’s eye, and he fell on his face and lay still. After that the fight did not last much longer. The second of the two men who had killed Krok was felled by Gunne; of the others, Orm had killed two and Toke three; but the trader, who had burrowed himself almost out of sight in his corner, they allowed to escape unharmed, because he had nothing to do with this affair.

  When they came out of the warehouse with their swords all bloody, they saw men approaching to discover what the noise had been about; but on seeing the Vikings' aspect, they turned and ran. Toke held his sword erect before his face; thick blood ran down its blade and fell from the hilt in large drops.

  “Now I name thee, O sister of Blue-Tongue!” he said. “Here-after shalt thou be known as Red-Jowl.”

  Orm stared after the men from the ships as they ran away into the distance.

  “We, too, must make haste,” he said, “for now we are outlaws in this land. But it is a small price to pay for vengeance.”

  They hastened to the ship and told the others what had happened. Then, at once, though it had by now grown dark, they weighed anchor and put out to sea. They rejoiced in the knowledge that Krok had been avenged, though at the same time they realized that they had no time to lose in getting clear of this country and its waters. They did their best to whip up a good pace from the slaves, and Orm himself took over the steering-oar, while Almansur’s two secretaries, who were unaware of what had happened, hurled questions at him but received scant reply. At last the ship came safely out of the bay into the open sea; and a wind sprang up from the south, so that they were able to raise a sail. They steered northwards and away from the land, until the day broke; and there was no sign of any ship pursuing them.

  They saw a group of islands off their larboard bow, and Orm put in to one of them. Here he sent both the secretaries ashore, bidding them convey his greetings to Almansur.

  “It would be churlish of us to quit the service of such a master,” he said, “without wishing him farewell. Tell him, therefore, on behalf of us all, that it has been our fate to have killed six of his men in revenge for Krok, who was our chieftain; though six men’s lives are a small return for his death. We are taking this ship with us, and the slaves that man it, for we think that he will scarcely notice its loss. Also, we are taking the bell, because it makes the ship ride stable, and we have dangerous seas ahead of us. We all think that he has been a good master to us, and if we had not had to kill these men, we should gladly have remained longer in his service; but as things have turned out, this is the only course left open to us if we are to escape with our lives.”

  The secretaries undertook to deliver this message, word for word as Orm had spoken it. Then he added: “It would be well, too, if, when you return to Córdoba, you could bear our greetings to a wealthy Jew called Solomon, who is a poet and a silversmith. And thank him from us for having befriended us so generously; for we shall never see him again.”

  “And tell the Lady Subaida,” said Toke, “that two men from the north, whom she knows, send her their thanks and greetings. Tell her, too, that the swords she gave us have served us well, and that their edges are yet undented, despite all the work that they have done. But, for your own sakes, do not deliver this message when Almansur is within hearing.”

  The secretaries had their writing-materials with them and noted all this down; then they were left on the island with enough food to sustain them until such time as some ship should find them or they should manage to make their way to the mainland.

  When the slaves working the oars saw that the ship was putting out toward the open sea, they made a noisy clamor and complaint, and it was evident that they wished to be left on the island with the secretaries. Orm’s men had to go round with switches and rope-ends to silence them and make them row; for the wind had dropped, and they were anxious to lose no time in getting clear of these dangerous waters.

  “It is lucky we have them fast in foot-irons,” said Gunne, “or we should have had the lot of them overboard by now, for all our swords. It is a pity we did not borrow a proper scourge when we took the fetters. The teeth of these switches and rope-ends are too blunt for mules like these.”

  “You are right,” said Toke, “strangely enough; for we little thought, in the days when we sat on the galley benches, that we should ever come to mourn the absence of an overseer’s whip.”

  “Well, they say that no back is so tender as one’s own,” replied Gunne. “But I fear these backs will have to itch somewhat more sharply if we are ever to escape from here.”

  Toke agreed, and they went round the benches again, flogging the slaves smartly to make the ship move faster. But they still made labored progress, for the slaves could not keep the stroke. Orm noticed this and said: “Rope-ends alone will never teach men to row if they are not used to oars. Let us see if we cannot persuade the bell to lend us her aid.”

  As he spoke, he took an ax and struck the bell with its blunt edge as the slaves dipped their oars. The bell gave out a great peal, and the slaves pulled in response. In this way they soon began to keep better time. Orm made his men take turns in sounding the stroke. They found that if they struck with a wooden club padded with leather, the bell pealed more melodiously; and this discovery pleased them mightily.

  After a while, however, a wind sprang up and they had no further need to row. The wind gradually increased, blowing more and more gustily, until it approached gale strength; and things now began to look dangerous. Grinulf remarked that this was only what was to be expected if men put out to sea without first propitiating the people of the water. But others spoke against him, recalling the sacrifice they had offered on a previous occasion and how shortly afterwards they had encountered the ships of Almansur. Gunne ventured the opinion that they might perhaps sacrifice to Allah, for safety’s sake, and a few of the men supported this suggestion; but Toke said that, in his view, Allah had little pull in what went on at sea.

  Then Orm said: “I do not believe that any man can be certain just how powerful this or that god is, or how much he can do to help us. And I think we should be foolish to neglect one god for the sake of not offending some other. But one thing we know, that there is one god who has served us well on this enterprise; I mean, St. James; for it is his bell that keeps our ship from turning turtle and, apart from this, it has helped the rowers to keep time. So let us not forget him.”

  They agreed that this was well spoken, and sacrificed meat and
drink to Agir, Allah, and St. James, which put them in better heart.

  By this time they had little idea where they were, save only that they were a good way from Asturia. They knew, however, that, if they held their course northwards, in the direction in which the storm was driving them, and avoided diverging too far to the west, they would be sure to strike land eventually, either in Ireland or in England, or perhaps in Brittany. So they screwed up their courage and rode out the storm. Once or twice they managed to discern familiar stars, and they trusted that they would find their way.

  Their chief worry concerned the slaves, who, though they now had no work to do at the oars, became poorly with fear and sea-sickness and the wet and cold, so that all of them were green and their teeth chattered; and a couple of them died. They had little warm clothing on the ship, and each day it blew colder, for the autumn was by now far advanced. Orm and his men pitied the wretchedness of the slaves and tended them as well as they could; and to such of them as had stomach to eat they gave the best food, for they knew that these slaves would be valuable booty if they could bring them safely to land.

  At last the storm died down, and for a whole day they enjoyed fine weather and a good wind and held their course to the northeast; and the slaves perked up, encouraged by the sun. But that evening the wind dropped completely, and a fog descended on them and began to thicken. It was cold and damp, so that they all trembled with the cold, the slaves most of all; no breath of wind came, and the ship lay still and tossing in a heavy swell.

  Orm said: “This is a pretty pass we have come to. If we stay here and wait for the wind, the slaves will die of cold; but if we make them row, they will die just as surely, in the wretched state they are in now. Though we have precious little to row by while we can see neither sun nor stars.”

  “I think we should make them row,” said Rapp, “to warm them up a little. We can steer with the swell, for that gale was blowing from the south; and we have nothing else to guide us while this fog holds.”

  They thought Rapp’s advice good, and the slaves were made to take up their oars, which they did amid much grousing; and, indeed, they had little strength for the task. The men took turns again at beating time on the bell, and it seemed to their ears to sound more sweetly than before, with a long peal following each stroke, so that she was of good comfort to them in the fog. At intervals they allowed the slaves to rest awhile and sleep; but, apart from this, they rowed the whole night through, steering with the swell, while the fog hugged them closely and incessantly.

  When morning came, ögmund was at the helm, with Rapp sounding the bell, while the others slept. Suddenly the two men listened, and stared at each other, and then listened anew. A faint peal had sounded from far away. Much astonished, they roused the others, and all strained their ears. The note was repeated several times, and it seemed to them to come from forward.

  “It sounds as though we are not the only sailors who are rowing to a bell,” said Toke.

  “Let us proceed softly,” said Grinulf, “for this may be Ran and her daughters, who seduce men at sea with music and enchantments.”

  “It sounds to me more like dwarfs at an anvil,” said Halle, “and it would be no fun to make their acquaintance. Perhaps we are near some island where trolls hold sway.”

  The peal still rang out faintly from the distance. All of them were now in a cold sweat, and they waited to hear what Orm should say. The slaves, too, listened, and began to chatter eagerly among themselves; but the tongues they spoke were unknown to Orm and his men.

  “What this may be, no man can tell,” said Orm, “but let us not be frightened at so small a thing. Let us row on as we have done up to now, and keep our eyes skinned. For my part, I have never heard of witchery practiced by morning light.”

  They agreed with this, and the rowing continued; meanwhile the distant note began to grow clearer. Light puffs of wind stirred their hair, and the fog thinned; then, suddenly, they all cried out that they spied land. It was a rocky coast and appeared to be either an island or a promontory. They could not doubt that the sound had come from this spot, though it had now ceased. They saw green grass, and some goats grazing: also two or three huts, beside which men stood staring out to sea.

  “These do not look to me like trolls,” said Orm, “or the daughters of Ran either. Let us go ashore and find out where we have come to.”

  They did so; and the men of the island showed no fear at seeing armed men come ashore, but came cheerfully toward them and greeted them. They were six in number, all old men, with white beards and long brown cloaks; and no one could understand what they said.

  “To what land have we come?” asked Orm. “And whose men are you?”

  One of the old men understood his words and cried to the others: “Lochlannach! Lochlannach!”1 Then he answered Orm in the latter’s tongue: “You have come to Ireland, and we are the servants of St. Finnian.”

  When Orm and his men heard this, they were overcome with joy, for they thought they must be nearly home. They could now see that they had landed on a small island, and beyond it they could discern the Irish coast. On this small island there lived only the old men and their goats.

  The old men conversed among themselves eagerly and in amazement; then the one who understood Norse said to Orm: “You speak the tongue of the Northmen, and I understand that tongue, for in my young days I associated much with the Northmen before I came to this island. But certain it is that I have never seen men from Lochlann dressed as you and your men are dressed. Where do you come from? Are you white or black Lochlannachs?2 And how is it that you come sailing to the sound of a bell? Today is St. Brandan’s day, and we rang our bell to pay homage to his memory; then we heard your bell reply from the sea, and we supposed that it might be St. Brandan himself answering us, for he was a great sailor. But in Jesus Christ’s name, are you all baptized men, that you come sailing with this holy sound?”

  “The old man can gab,” said Toke. “There is a mouthful for you to answer there, Orm.”

  Orm replied to the old man: “We are black Lochlannachs, men of King Harald’s land, though whether King Harald still lives I do not know, for we have been a long while from home. But our cloaks and garments are Spanish, for we have come from Andalusia, where we served a great lord named Almansur. And our bell is called James, and comes from the church in Asturia where the apostle James lies buried, and it is the biggest of all the bells there; but how and why it has accompanied us on our journey is too long a story to be told now. We have heard of this Christ you speak of, but where we come from he is held in no great honor, and we are not baptized. But as you are Christians, you may be glad to hear that we have Christian men at our oars. They are our slaves, and come from the same place as the bell; but they have been badly knocked about on our journey and are worth but little now. It would be a good thing if they could come ashore here and rest for a while before we continue on our journey homewards. You need fear nothing from us, for you seem to be good men, and we use no violence toward those who do not try to oppose us. We could make use of a few of your goats, but you will suffer no other loss, for we do not intend to stay long here.”

  When it was explained to the old men what he had said, they wagged their heads and whispered among themselves; and their spokesman said that they often welcomed seafaring men on their island, and that no man did them harm.

  “For we ourselves do harm to no man,” he said, “and we have no possessions apart from these goats and our boats and huts; the whole isle else is St. Finnian’s Isle, and he is powerful in the sight of God and holds his hand over us. This year he has blessed our goats generously, so that you shall not lack for sustenance. Welcome therefore to the little we can offer you; and for us old men, who sit here year after year in loneliness, it will be a joy to listen to the story of your travels.”

  So the slaves were brought ashore and the ship was beached; and Orm and his men rested on St. Finnian’s Isle, living in peaceful harmony with the monks. Th
ey fished with them, making fine catches, and fed the slaves so that they looked less wretched; and Orm and the others had to recount all their adventures for the monks to hear, for, though they had difficulty in following his words, the old men were eager for news of distant lands. But most of all they marveled at the bell, which was larger than any they had heard of in Ireland. They acclaimed it as a mighty miracle that St. James and St. Finnian had spoken to each other with their bells from afar; and sometimes at their holy services they smote the bell of St. James instead of their own and rejoiced aloud as its great clang echoed out across the sea.

  1. “Men of the lakes.”

  2. I.e., Norwegians or Danes.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CONCERNING ORM’S SOJOURN AMONG THE MONKS OF ST. FINNIAN, AND HOW A GREAT MIRACLE OCCURRED AT JELLINGE

  WHILE they were resting with the monks of St. Finnian, Orm and his men deliberated deeply what course they should take once the slaves had recovered sufficiently for them to be able to proceed on their voyage. They were all eager to get back home, Orm no less than the others; nor was there much danger of encountering pirates at this time of year, when few ships were at sea. But the going was likely to be hard in the winter weather, which in turn might well result in the slaves dying on their hands; it would therefore, they thought, perhaps be wisest to sell them as soon as possible. For that, they could sail either down to Limerick, where Orm’s father was well known, or up to Cork, where Olof of the Precious Stones had for long been the biggest dealer in slaves in these parts. They asked the monks which they thought would be the best plan for them to follow.

  When the monks understood what their guests wanted to know, they chattered eagerly to one another and were apparently much amused; then their spokesman said: “It is plain that you come from distant parts and know little about the way things are in Ireland now. It will not be easy for you to trade in Limerick, or in Cork either; for Brian Boru is powerful in Ireland now, and though you hail from a far country, you have probably heard of him.”