Horned Helmet
Page 8
There was a shaggy grey and white sheepdog called Nim, and though he had come to adore Starkad above all men, even Nim seemed sad that Beorn was leaving. It was as though he had got the news by some secret way, as bees do when their keeper dies. He curled up in a far, dim corner and whimpered to himself - a thing he never reckoned to do usually. But tonight was different for them all.
Katla leaned across the board-table gently and said, ‘You may not wish to call me mother, but you cannot stop me from thinking of you as my son, Beorn. And I know that there is sadness in your heart, even though you try to hide it.’
Beorn put on a smile.
'If it pleases you, Katla,’ he answered, ‘ I will call you mother, for this last night.’
Truth to tell, he was glad she had spoken thus, and glad to call her mother. She smiled and helped him to more meat and ale. Then she said, ‘Your heart is heavy at the journey that lies before you. But you will find new courage as you fare forth into the world and conquer it, inch by inch. Not so many years ago, down among the Essex-folk, there was a good old fighter named Byrhtwold. And when the Danishmen ‘came ashore at a place called Maldon, and killed Byrhtwold’s lord after a hard fight, this old warman spoke up and said these words:
“ Thought shall be the harder, heart the keener,
Courage the greater, as our strength faileth.
Here lies our leader, in the dust of his greatness.
Who leave him now, damned be for ever.
I, who am old now, will not leave this battle,
But will lie at his feet, in the dust with my leader.”’
Then she stopped, as though she was a little ashamed, a mere woman speaking so. But her words had moved Beorn, and he took her hand and said, ‘ I understand, mother. You are telling me that a man must have courage at all times, whatever the odds. Is that it? ’
Katla rose from the board and put her hands to her face.
‘I do not know what I am trying to tell you, son,’ she said. ‘ I think it was the honey-ale talking, not me.’
As the two men looked up at her from the table, the night outside was suddenly cracked across with harsh high cries. Then a horn blew as though the day of judgement had come and a voice called loudly, ‘ Open the gates, you within! Open them, or we shall break them down! ’
Starkad looked across at Beorn’s white face and said, ‘There is no need to ask what manner of men stand outside our stockade, son. You and I both know what such a greeting means.’
He hobbled to where his sword stood by the wall, then turned and said, ‘Will you give me leave to wear your horned helmet for the last time? ’
Beorn nodded, his tongue silent. And the Jomsviking said, ‘It is strange that they did not light the beacon on the coast-hill to warn us we might expect such visitors.’
Beorn stared at him, silently, and then took up his own short sword and went over to where Starkad stood, wrapping a sheepskin round his right arm in place of a shield.
As the shouting grew louder outside, the baresark said to Katla, ‘At least we have fed well, wife, and good food is always worth two men. We count for four, you see! Now, Beorn, if you are coming out with me, to try a few of the tricks we have practised these last days, then I must ask you to stand, as old Gault the Guardian did, at my back. So, you will protect me there, and you
will also be out of the way if I flail about me a little wildly - as I am well apt to do when the game gets hot. Will you be my Guardian, then?’
Beorn fell on to his knees before Starkad and took his left hand and pressed it to his lips. ‘ Father,’ he said, ‘this is greater honour than when a chief gives a ring to his warrior, for me to take Gauk’s place. If I never gain more fame than this, I shall go to the last resting-home happy.’
But Katla had run into the corner, where Nim the dog stood bristling, and put her rough apron over her head, weeping that she had found a family at last only to lose it again.
Starkad gave a dry cough or two, but did not go to her. Instead, he turned to Beorn and said, ‘ Come on, then, son, and let us see what sort of weather it is outside. It should be warming up a little, at this time of the year.’
And so they went through the cottage door, and shut it fast after them.
15 'Up Holly-ah!'
The moon was riding the white spring clouds, flooding the earth with a silver glow that cast shadows almost as though the sun was shining. From the byre, Beorn could hear the thralls chattering with fear. In the sheep-pens, the creatures were bleating quietly, and shuffling about as though they wished to be away from all this.
Out on the fell, a vixen barked three times; a short, sharp sound, as though she knew what was afoot among these fierce men; as though she wished to carry the warning to her litter, and tell them to be away, before their world ended, too.
As they crossed the yard, Starkad said to Beorn, ‘This may be our last walk together, son. So let us go
gaily, like grooms to the wedding, and not fearfully, like beasts to the knacker’s shed.’
He slapped Beorn lightly on the back with his sword-flat, and said, ‘ Come to think of it, lad, this is what it has all been leading up to. This is why I saved you from Glam that day, on the Iceland shore, so that you would be by me when the ravens came at last for their pickings. Oh, I could wish no better! I have had a goodish life, and now that I am no use for anything but the hearth, it is just as well that I should be called out into the moonlight with my son behind me and a good sword in my hand. Fight well, Beorn, and no man can ask for anything more of you. If one of them gets behind me, through the gateway, don’t call me, to make me turn round and take my eye off the others; just deal with him as best you can. Strike sideways, not down, for you stand better chance of getting him that way. And, just one more thing, strike hard, though it may go against the grain. For a half-lamed Northman is worse than anything; he knows it is to be his end soon, and before he goes, he will take even a wolf with him, though he has nothing but his teeth to use. Good luck to your sword, and, when you hear the “ Up-holly~ah! ” never give a thought to me, for I shall be well away at my old trade.’
The tears were running down Beorn’s cheeks, but he was not sad; his heart was overflowing with all manner of feelings, and tears were the only words that would come to him. He gave Starkad a slap on the back as they went to open the gates; and that was all he said to his foster-father. But it was enough.
As they drew the wood-bolts, a great voice from the
other side bawled out, ‘And time, too! We thought you were saying a saga to one another in there! Come on out now, and either tell us the way down to Blanchland, or give us the satisfaction of sword-play.’
Starkad called back, ‘You’ll get no good word from us, sea-wolf; only the edge of two swords. Take which one you wish, they are both keen.’
Torches were flaring outside and men were jostling and laughing. As Starkad flung the gate wide and leaned his wounded right side against the post, Beorn saw the dull gleam of iron-mesh in the moonlight, and his eye counted more than a dozen men, with swords and axes ready. A big man in a dark bearskin, their leader, was first to step forward. He waved to his fellows to stand back and give him first knock.
‘ Come on, grandad,’ he called to Starkad, ‘ I do not think we shall be long about our visit, somehow! A grey-beard and a lad are small fences for Jomsvikings to leap.’
Beorn felt his skin prickle at these words; but they seemed to have no effect on Starkad, who set his mouth firmly, and, as the big man swung sideways, thrust out at point’s length with the long sword.
‘Up holly-ah!’ shouted Starkad, with a bark like a dog.
The’ man in the bearskin gave a sharp cry, and staggered back, his hand to his cheek. ‘By Odin,’ he said, ‘but I know only one man who could sneak through my guard that way, and he died against Holy Island, almost two years ago, trying to hoist a longship back into the currents! ’
Then, as he began his next rush, Starkad suddenly
&nbs
p; flung down his long sword and yelled out, ‘ Skallagrim! By all the gods, Jarl Skallagrim!’
Beorn’s eyes nearly jumped from their lids, to see the big man fling down his own weapon and throw back his helmet. Then the two men had arms about each other, and were stumbling round in the moonlight as though they were drunk. Odd and Thorgaut, and half a dozen others from Reindeer, were beside Beorn now, slapping his back so hard that they almost stunned the boy.
And at last Skallagrim shouted, ‘We’ve found the luck of Reindeer again, by the grace of Odin! The lad who can sing us Snorre Pig! Oh, lad, what a treasure -when all we hoped to gain were a few old cups and fiddle-faddles from Blanchland kirk! ’
After he had laughed a while longer, and the first greeting was over, he called out, ‘ Come away with us, lads, and off to sea again! We’ll find other pickings nearer York; and they say the Humberside men are mighty careless with their cattle these days. That’s where we’ll go! ’
But Starkad shook his head and said, ‘My sailing-days are past, Jarl. Come inside and let my wife set food and drink before you. Let us talk of old times. Then be on your way before I change my mind and shorten you all by a head’s length! ’
So they met again, and Jarl Skallagrim’s folk feasted so well that they cleaned out Katla’s stock for many a day. And when they had finished, the Jarl rose and said, ‘ Lady, I think this Starkad-Baresark is not as daft as he seems. If I had a little farm-steading like this, I might well give up the salt-life myself. But what will be, will be. I must go my way, and it would ill become us to be found snoring here by dawntime. The Blanchland men might not welcome us quite as well as you have done. So, off we go, and good luck to you all. No longship-crew shall ever bother you again while my name stands for anything on the northern seas.’
Then it was that Beorn stepped forward and said, ‘Master Jarl, I was almost on my way to seek my fortune when you came. It now seems to me better bargaining with fate to go with folk I know, than to tread a lone wolf’s track through the woods.’
Jarl Skallagrim said nothing, but gazed first at Starkad and then at Katla. And when he had seen what was in their sad faces, he turned to Beorn and said, ‘ On your own head be it, viking. There is a sea-chest for you to sit on, in Reindeer, if your heart is in this thing. I say no more.’
Before dawn, they had gone and the good folk of Blanchland never even knew that they had had visitors in the night.
16 Golden Hair
Years go by, and there is no stopping them. They are the wheels on a wagon, always turning while there is an ox to draw them. Trees grow towards the sky, then fall, their roots rotten. They mix with the earth and new trees rise from them. That is how it goes.
Now Nim was so old that he scarcely ever left the steading, and the youngest lamb could outrun him. Now his eyes were dim, and he had to live by his nose and his ears. But they were still sound enough. So keen, they were, that Nim often knew when a man was coming, long before old Starkad could see him on the hill path, long before Katla could hear him, even, and her ears were as sharp as they had ever been, though she was bent and wrinkled now.
So it was that, one bright summer morning, when the
larks were rising above the steading as though they adored the place, Nim began to whimper, then to growl, then to bark. He rose from his corner and tottered on stiff legs to the doorway, sniffing mightily.
Katla with a ladle in her hand, said, ‘What ails the dog?’
Starkad, greasing a pair of new leather leggings by the hearth, said, ‘It must be the season that has got into his blood. I’ve not heard him make a whimper for weeks! ’
And suddenly, as they watched, old Nim ran across the stack-yard like a young puppy, and then began to bark and bark as though he had been visited by Freya and given the secret of endless youth. Starkad was about to go out and quieten the dog, because he had got so that sudden noises upset him; but as he rose from his chair, the yard-gate flew open as though a giant had pushed it, and there stood a man whose hair flamed out in the sunshine like red gold.
He had no sword in his hand, no helmet on his head, but only a great blackthorn staff that thumped on the ground with every step he took, as though he was Thor come again and wanted to tread everything flat, to show his strength.
To tell the truth, Starkad was a little afraid at this man. The baresark years had faded like a dream, had gone like last October’s ale, and were but a dim memory. Now Starkad saw only a strong young giant carrying a staff that would have laid Skallagrim himself flat on the ground, even in his prime. So Starkad and Katla put their arms round one another and waited for the worst this tall stranger might bring.
They did not dare even look into his bearded face as he came towards them. Then they saw his black shadow kneeling, and felt his oak-firm arms about them. And they looked down a little way into a face they knew, but strong now, hard like a god’s face, and like a great man’s face.
And Beorn smiled up at them, out of his thick golden beard, and said, ‘I have come back, mother. I have come to serve you, father. Is that good? ’
Starkad’s skin crawled with the old baresark feeling, and he said quietly, ‘Yes, it is not bad. I have known worse.’
But in the deep of his stone heart, he could have cried and cried with joy. He felt a child now, he felt like blind old Nim in the stack-yard; Nim who was telling the lambs that now Beorn was back they had best mind their manners and treat a dog with respect.
Then Beorn lifted them both off their feet and set them down in their chairs by the hearth-fire. With a strange look, he said to them, ‘ I have a bag of Miklagard gold for you in the cart that follows; and a king’s crown for my father. But there is a confession to make.’
Starkad put on his worst face, the tears running into his grey old beard though. ‘Well,’ he barked, ‘out with it, my lad! ’
Beorn said, ‘ I threw the short sword and the horned helmet into the sea off Jomsburg as we came by. I thought that made a good end to it all. The viking days are done.’
Starkad thought a while, then said, ‘Aye, boy, that’s good enough. They served their turn. And even they must finish when their time comes.’
Beorn said, his face turned away, ‘ Reindeer is out on the Portage, and the Patzinaks have her for their palace. All the others are in a howe at Hedeby. I came back in a Frankish trader, The Maid of Aachen. Not the way I like to travel, but beggars cannot be choosers, father.’
Starkad thought a while, then smiled and said, ‘Nay, that they cannot. You’ve done fairly well for a silly young lad. Mayhap, when the new year comes, I’ll try to knock a bit of husbandry into your thick head. This farming is real man’s work, not like that fly-by-night roving, and that baresark foolery men set such store by. Are you willing to learn, lad? ’
Beorn’s arms were round Katla, and he was trying to mop up her tears on his silken sleeve. He spared a glance for Starkad, and said, ‘Aye, Pm willing, father. But go easy with me, my hands are soft. I’m only a viking, you must remember, not one of you hard-fisted farmers.’
Table of Contents
HORNED HELMET
Contents
Author’s Note
1 Kol’s Judgement
2 Rock-pool
3 Man with a Spear
4 Snorre Pig and the Herring
5 Baresark
6 Lost Sword and Found Son
7 Grettir’s Venture
8 Dead Man’s Howe
9 Two Vikings and a Log
10 Rescue
11 Starkad Tamed
12 Blanchland Haven
13 Blind Beacon
14 New Guardian
15 'Up Holly-ah!'
16 Golden Hair
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