The Sign of the Raven

by Poul Anderson

  She came into his arms, and he caressed her, and that night was as if the years since their first meeting had dropped away. Thereafter they were together all the time, and Elizabeth sang no more.

  2

  Only a few ragged leaves were on the oaks, the rest of the woods shivered in nakedness and the fields had begun to stiffen, when a scout galloped into Haakon Ivarsson's Varmland garth. He stayed not for meat or drink ere blurting his tale: that King Harald and the best of his troop were on their way.

  "I looked for naught else," said Haakon, and let the war arrows start their summons. He felt no fear, rather a swift upward flaming of eagerness. Belike this was his time to bring down his foe. Countless were the ghosts that would be avenged when Harald Hardrede was slain. And thereafter a return in triumph to a Norway made free!

  While his host of Goths and Varmlanders was rallying, he had spies out who brought him news of the king's faring. Harald had sailed to Konungahella, where he took the lightest of his ships and steered them up the Gota; at the falls he let them be dragged overland, and so came to Lake Vanern. This he crossed in an easterly direction, went a short way up a thinly frozen river beyond, and then left the ships under guard while he led the rest of his men on horse and foot. They pushed through a murky forest, and over moors and mires, toward Haakon's steading; but the jarl did not intend that Harald should look again on Ragnhild and the children.

  It was late afternoon of a bitter-cold day when the two bands met each other. Haakon and his little army came out of a wood and saw the Norsemen not far off; horns blew, banners lifted, and both hosts fell into ranks.

  The jarl sat his horse in the forefront of his battle line, looking over at the enemy. A bog lay between, where reeds thrust brown and forlorn through ice that glimmered beneath the low pale sun. Beyond the bog rose a hill, on which the king's men stood. Their spears and helmets caught the light as a flash of bleakness. Haakon could plainly spy Harald, astride a black Spanish barb that stamped and snorted and blew steam from its nose. There could be no mistaking that huge form, and the king wore a helmet that burned with gold. Beside him, a youth held the flag Landwaster; it curled in the breeze, blood-red and raven-black. Elsewhere Haakon recognized the standards of Ulf, Eystein, Styrkaar . . . men who had once been his friends. He shivered and crossed himself.

  The Norse made no move. Haakon could just hear their king's voice, but the order was plain to him; they sat down under their shields, waiting rather than yield the advantage of higher ground. Glancing to right and left of his own lines, he saw the Swedish yeomen blue with cold. They had not had Harald's foresight and brought heavy garments.

  "Let us bide awhile," he said. "Let them come to us through the mire. We'll make it warm for them."

  Clouds hurried out of the east; soon the sun was hidden and it began to snow. Those were tiny, dry flakes, but fell thickly; it was hard to see the king's men through them. Haakon slapped his hands together, trying to drive blood back into the skin.

  Thorvidh, the lawman of the Goths, was mounted nearby, a swag-bellied old man, his nose red above white whiskers. He alone of his folk was warmly clad. His horse was tethered to a peg driven into the stone-hard earth, and he was quite ready to wait.

  Now he puffed himself importantly, turned in the saddle, and spoke to his followers:

  "God knows we have gathered here a host to be proud of, so strong and handsome as we are; therefore, let King Steinkell hear that we have stood honestly by our good jarl. Certain am I that if the Norsemen dare come to us, they'll soon mark whom they have to deal with!" His men hunched their shoulders and blew on numbed hands and wiped snow from their beards. Thorvidh roared on:

  "But should it happen that the young among us, unripe in war, give way, then we are not to run further than to yon brook. Or if the youngest men—which is unthinkable—should give way again, then we will run to that hill over there, but not one step further!"

  At this moment, the Norse raised their war cry, leaping up and clamoring sword on shield. The Swedes answered, till ears rang. The lawman's horse shied, yanking up the peg so that it whizzed past Thorvidh's head.

  "Damn those Norsemen!" he wailed. "How they do shoot!" And off went the lawman, to be seen no more that day.

  Haakon cursed as the Goths wavered. "Up our banner!" he yelled. "Charge them!"

  He spurred his own horse, down the bank and into the mire. Ice crackled beneath. Suddenly the beast was knee-deep in half-frozen mud. Behind him, the Swedes shouted anew, some calling on Odhinn and some on Christ, and rolled after.

  Haakon beat his horse, driving it forward. A gust of snow whirled in his eyes. "Holy Olaf, stand by us today," he prayed. "It's your son's banner we bear." His heart drummed within him. Over the bog and up the hill and see King Harald's guts!

  With a gasp and a squelch, the horse pulled free on the other side, Haakon's blade hummed in his fingers. Shadowy forms were before him. A stone bounced off his shield. He reined in his steed, looked back and saw his men struggle through the muck behind.

  "God send the right!" he shouted.

  "Hola, Odhinn!" The heathen warriors formed their line afresh, raggedly, and panted up the slope in his trail.

  Horns blasted and the Norse charged down to meet them. Haakon saw two men before him, axes aloft. His horse reared again, brought hoofs down on one—the fellow toppled, while Haakon's sword bit at his friend. He glimpsed a face gaping up at him, blood was a sudden crimson in the snow. Once more he struck; the man sank beneath his glaive.

  Thus from horseback had he seen the Normans make war in the West. He wished he had their cavalry now. Harald would get short shrift!

  Someone else bawled an oath, and a giant loomed out of the snow. Briefly, wildly, Haakon thought it King Harald, then he remembered Gunnar Geiroddsson. The carle was shieldless, wielding an ax two-handed which few men could have swung. He stormed down, the weapon whistled, and Haakon himself felt the shock that split the horse's head.

  The jarl kicked free of his stirrups and was on the ground before his mount had fallen. His blade reached out. Gunnar stopped it on the ax helve. Haakon caught the next blow on his iron shield rim. It gave way, wood splintered and leather sheared, the jarl’s arm nearly lost the handgrip.

  "Hoo, there!" roared Gunnar. "Stand fast, little man, stand fast!"

  Haakon dropped the broken shield and danced before his enemy, blade like a snake's tongue. Gunnar had not such swiftness, but wounds seemed to mean naught to him. If one of his own blows landed, there was an end of Haakon Ivarsson.

  The jarl darted in, swinging for the thick neck. Almost, he had Gunnar, but the fellow slipped and went on his back. Haakon leaped for him. Gunnar lifted both feet and kicked out. Haakon lurched away.

  When the jarl's head cleared, he found himself elsewhere in a monstrous confusion. The Norse stood together, hammering as one creature with a hundred arms. These were no hastily summoned carles, but men whose trade was war. The Swedes were already giving ground, here a man fell, there a man was pushed aside; their ranks were being broken up.

  "Christ help us!" groaned Haakon. The battle fury jumped anew in him, he went into the line and began trading blows. The guardsman before him dropped his shield a moment, long enough for Haakon to cut his arm to the bone. The jarl sprang over him as he fell to one knee.

  "Forward, my men!" he cried. "Forward and kill them!"

  The din of weapons came through whirling sheets of snow. Haakon found himself against three Norsemen squeezed out of their own ranks. A spear thrust at him. He sidestepped it and clove the spearman's neck. A sword banged off his byrnie. Wrenching his own blade free, he fell to the attack, clash, clash, clash, and suddenly the foe was shrieking on the ground. The third man had been circling about, in search of a chance to strike. Haakon fell on him. Swords belled together, sparks jumped where they met, and the warrior's was torn from his grasp. Haakon cut him down and turned panting after more enemies.

  A wild whoop rose. As the snowfall lessened, he saw th
e Swedish line buckle. He saw King Harald, blade ablaze, lead the final charge.

  Darkness swam before Haakon's eyes. He was done, he had failed, Harald Hardrede had smashed his hopes and trampled them underfoot. There they went, the heartless cravens, breaking and running into the woods, little they cared to sit in Valhall!

  Haakon shook his fist at the sky. "Why did You not give me some Norsemen?" he shrieked.

  Then he picked up a spear and went swiftly in among the trees himself.

  3

  Pursuit of the Swedes did not last long, for darkness came fast. In the guttering glare of torches, Harald's army gathered itself again. The snow had stopped falling, but lay white on the dead. Strange how helpless a man was once he had died, not even able to keep the snow off his freezing body; he went back to babyhood and soiled himself and crept into the night from which he had come.

  Harald regarded the banner of Magnus. "This much we have," he said. "But did the jarl fall?"

  "I know not," said Ulf. He and Gunnar were tilting a jug the latter had carried along; being wearied, they were well started toward drunkenness. "Too many dead; I've no wish t' turn o'er corpses."

  "Haw!" said Gunnar. "You'd liefer turn over a Swedish wench, eh?" He felt cocky; the king had promised him fine gifts and a place in the royal guard for his work today.

  "If she lay on her belly, aye," said Ulf. He made owl eyes. "But she nee'n' be Sweesh. Any race'll do. I min' one Moorish maid down in Miklagardh ... see, skaldcraft there . . . many years agone; ah, yes, t' be young!"

  Harald's face thrust its red-splashed crags out of shadow. "We've broken the Gotland and Varmland hosts, at least," he said. "Late will they follow Haakon again after this drubbing! Now it's a matter of teaching our own Uplanders some manners."

  "That will be harder," said Eystein. A wryness twisted his mouth. "They are Norse. I like it not."

  "Nor I," said Harald, "but the task must be done." His glance fell on Magnus, who had come with this band and fought well. "I'd not leave you a kingdom where men dared rebel, my son."

  The youth's face kindled.

  The host worked busily, binding up hurt friends and putting these with their fallen comrades on litters chopped from branches. Thereafter they stripped the Swedish dead, for a good plunder of weapons and ornaments, but let the wounded foemen, fallen into their hands, go home as best they might. It was some time before the conquerors started back to the ships.

  That would be several hours' walk, but Harald had no wish to camp in the snow. He mounted his stallion and led the way. Behind him, torches flickered down the trail, like a snake with scales of fire. Overhead the sky was clearing, stars glistened out and the moon threw an eldritch whiteness on the land.

  Ulf rode too. "Walk alongside me, Gunnar," he asked. "I'm like t' fall off. Wha' the Devil'd you put in 'at jug?"

  "Wine, I bought some wine off a chapman ere we left Oslo. Methought 'twould serve well."

  "So it has, so it has." Ulf hiccupped. "I'll be less happy t'morr'w, but tonight . . . stars, moon, aye, i's cold an' well I'd like t' get into a good warm woman."

  "I know some in Oslo," said Gunnar.

  "No." The marshal shook his head dolefully. "Back at home I'm good steady househol'er. One at a time. . . Got good wife. Sweet li'l woman once she's shouted at enough. No' th' man I use't' be. Time was when ... I ramble. All women're alike, saving only one, see you. So why mus' a man ever be looking f'r a new one, she's but more o' th' same, an' yet t'night . . ."

  He threw back his head and broke into bawdy song. The men nearby grinned and took it up. Soon the whole host was roaring it out.

  Harald hunched in the saddle. He had taken off his chill armor and donned a thick coat, but still the winter struck at him. There was time. . . . His head lifted, defiantly. Before God, he was not yet old, he would still stand the world on its tail!

  They had crossed the open ground and now entered the main forest. It gloomed about them, tangled brush and frost-glittery beech, a wall on either side. Stars flickered in the twigs, as if netted there. So narrow was the trail that just one at a time could pass. Harald's standard-bearers rode in front of him and behind, the leader carrying the bear flag of King Magnus. Its white folds glimmered like victory.

  Ulf was wandering off on a long discourse. His words drifted faintly to Harald: "... see you, many ways t' buil' a ship, down south th' galleys 're clumsy, but they've a thought with decking o'er the whole of 'em. Woul'n' y' like t' row dry f'r once? An' warm—Hell take me, 's cold! No more in that jug, Gunnar? No? Well, well, I'd but have more o' headache t'morr'w. . . ."

  The king smiled. A drowsy warmth rose inside him. Good it was to ride victorious with friends at his back.

  He heard brushwood snap to the right, and started awake. The broken moonlight shuddered off steel. A man was leaping across the path—a tall man who bore a spear in one hand.

  "Hoy!" shouted Harald, and snatched for his sword.

  The tall man lifted the spear and hurled it. The king heard it smack in flesh; suddenly the point gleamed out of his foremost standard-bearer's back. The youth gave a scream as he fell from the saddle.

  Ere Harald could draw blade, the tall man had seized Magnus' banner and was gone with it.

  The Norse line jarred to a halt. Torches bobbed, throwing eyes and teeth out of night. "What is it, what happened? In Christ's name what's this latest ill?"

  Harald drew a shaking breath. He felt the cold crackle around and through him.

  "Give me my byrnie," he said. "The jarl lives."

  VII

  How Ellisif Was Angry

  1

  In that part of the night which remained, the Norse stayed aboard their ships. By dawn the chill had deepened, and in the first light men saw that the river had frozen over again, this time so thickly that one could walk on the ice.

  Magnus came sliding merrily down it, until he reached his father's craft; there he caught the stem and twirled to a halt. "What shall we do?" he asked.

  The king glowered over the side. It was a gnawing in his soul that Haakon had escaped; he told himself it mattered not, the jarl's power was broken, but that was a frosty comfort. "We must chop a way clear," he said. "The Uplanders shall not enjoy their insolence a day longer than I can help."

  "So be it. Whoo-oo!" Magnus skated back on his boot soles. His ship had been last to enter the river, and thus lay closest to the lake. He cried orders to the crew, and took a hand himself.

  Though the air was searingly cold, it was a bright morning, with blue shadows across an utter whiteness of snow and the ice ashimmer. The sound of axes and boat hooks made echoes bounce over the stream and back from the woods. Tired though they were from yesterday, the men worked fast, if only to keep warm; the cooks wavered across the ice with food and drink for them, and water swirled blackly in the holes they cut.

  Erelong they were in sight of the lake. The ships behind Magnus' were using the channel, so that their men had less to do and came to help his. Last of all was the king's vessel. From it sprang a guardsman, Hall Otryggsson, who was renowned for his great deeds and stood high in Harald's favor. He fell to with a wild strength; the ax was blurred in his hand.

  One of Magnus' crew stopped to watch, and said admiringly: "There you see it, as often before; no one can lay so much power where it's needed as Hall Kodhran's bane. See how it goes!"

  A young man in the prince's following grew suddenly pale. This was Thormodh Eindridhason, who had but lately joined Magnus from the North country; it was his first taste of war, though he had already made himself a good friend of the king's son.

  "Is that . . ." He gulped and asked through dry lips: "Is that indeed the Hall who slew Kodhran Gudhmundarson many years ago?"

  "So it is; they had some quarrel. What of it?"

  "Only this," whispered Thormodh, "that Kodhran was my mother's cousin. I was scarce a year old when he was killed, but ..."

  Stumbling on the ice, he went over. Hall looked at him, puzzled, and Thormodh'
s ax came down. It split Hall's head to the jaws.

  A bellow went up. Magnus came jumping from one loose floe to the next. "What is it?" he cried. "Have you gone mad, Thormodh?"

  "No ..." The youth crossed himself and stared at the corpse. Blood and brains steamed as they flowed out onto the ice. "I was but avenging my kin."

  Magnus bit his lip. "Ill is this. The king will make short work of you if he gets his hands . . . No, I'll stand by you, my friend. Quickly, let's away!"

  Silent, half stunned, his crew finished their task under his barked orders. They entered the ship, got oars, and pushed into the unfrozen lake. An east wind had come up, and Magnus had mast and sail raised. The light vessel surged ahead, westward over Lake Vanem.

  It was some time before the others were clear. Harald's craft was the last one out. By then he had heard the tale, and wrath boiled in him.

  "That he would dare! That the lout would dare murder my own guardsman! For this I'll hang him myself. ... Set sail and after them!"

  The king took the steering oar himself and nursed what speed his ship could make out of her. His face was stiff, but he gnawed his mustache and muttered to himself.

  Thjodholf the skald ventured to speak: "This was a matter of blood feud, my lord."

  "If Thormodh had a lawful complaint, he could have brought it before me and the Thing," said Harald. "There's been enough of men who think they are the law."

  Only one man has that right? wondered the skald, but did not dare say it aloud.

  The short day had worn thin when Harald's ships reached the agreed anchorage. He saw Magnus' beached there, and sprang ashore and stormed toward his son.

  "Where is the murderer?" he snapped. "Bring him to me!"

  The prince flinched, then gathered courage to look up into his father's eyes. "He is gone. I let him go free."