TLV - 02 - The Road of the Sea Horse

by Poul Anderson

  "He said nothing about that, my lord."

  "Well ..." Harald sighed, shook himself, and rose. He spoke softly. "We'd have come to swords in the end. Let it be now."

  Styrkaar grinned and slapped his thigh. "Well done, King!"

  Ulf's face went blank. "So be it," he said. "The guards are ready."

  Eystein nodded, as if his skull had grown too heavy for him. The other warriors looked up eagerly, waiting their orders.

  Harald walked about, commanding them to their places. Most he posted around the courtyard leading to the hall, a ring of armed and armored men in Ulf's charge. He himself went into the entryroom with half a dozen. He told them to close the shutter of the only window, up in the loft, so that little light could reach them; then, in a thick gloom, he waited.

  "Take the banner, Eystein," he said.

  "Yes, my lord." The boy's hand shook, but he gripped the staff.

  Presently Einar and Eindridhi arrived. With a stamping across flagstones, the yeomen followed, the whole five hundred bearing shield and helmet, packed together inside the wall of the king's men. Spears bristled out of their mass, the afternoon sunlight ran off the whetted heads.

  Einar turned to his son and laid a hand on his shoulder. "This is a risky business," he said. His eyes looked out of their crow's-feet with a deep warmth. "Were it not a matter of our very manhood, I'd not go in."

  "I too—" began Eindridhi.

  "No, wait out here with our folk." Einar looked at the outnumbered guardsmen, and dropped a big hand to his sword hilt. "Then I'll be in no danger. He hasn't that much courage."

  His broad form blocked out the light within as he stepped across the threshold. "Dark is the king's room," he said.

  Harald's blade hissed free of the scabbard, but it was Styrkaar who rushed forth, ax swinging. The dull meaty sound came of steel going into flesh. Einar roared, stumbling back, and the guardsmen were over him in an iron storm.

  Eindridhi heard the noise, yanked out his sword, and plunged after his father. Harald saw his shadowy figure go down, and cursed. "That was my task!" he cried.

  Outside, Ulf yelled an order, and some of the guards sprang in front of the door. The yeomen stood agape, hardly knowing as yet what had happened. Then someone shouted: "Einar is dead! The king has murdered him!"

  "Kill him!"

  The front rank lurched, half pushed from behind toward the line of guards. Ulf brandished his sword and a fence of spears snapped down around the court. The yeomen swore, milling about and egging each other on, but none would be the first to die.

  There came a clash and clank from the doorway, and King Harald stood there, looming over them, helm and byrnie shimmering like gray ice. Beside him, the raven banner unfurled and caught the breeze. For a moment he stared at the crowd, and nobody met his eyes. Then the few guardsmen behind him fell into battle formation, and he led them forward. No one spoke a word; like cattle, the yeomen scrambled aside and the king went past them and into the street.

  When he had come some way, Harald heard the shouting break loose. The strong force he had left under Ulf could defend the hall, his family should be safer there than anywhere else, but by sunset revolt would be aboil throughout the town. "What now shall we do, my lord?" asked Styrkaar. He hefted his ax, which still dripped blood. "Let them rise against us and put them down?"

  "Not unless we must," said Harald. He looked straight before him, and his face was wooden. "Two murders are enough for one day. We'll take ship out to Austratt, Finn Arnason's garth, and ask his help. The folk will listen to him."

  "Good," agreed Styrkaar. "If you're gone a few days, tempers should cool."

  "Yes, the rabble have not brain enough even to carry a grudge. What we must do is forestall any who might seek to lead them. Come, down to the docks." The guards tramped behind him, and folk were quick to make way.

  Bergljot Haakonsdottir was at her husband's town house when a man came running in. She looked up from her weaving and asked: "What is that uproar I hear in the streets?" Sharply: "And why do you weep?"

  "The king has murdered my master and his son."

  Bergljot sat very quiet. Briefly, her eyes closed. Then she rose and went out. The house keys rattled at her waist as she walked swiftly to the royal hall. Scores of folk surged about, under the wary eyes of guardsmen who ringed in the buildings, but some recognized her and forced a way through.

  Ulf had had Einar and Eindridhi laid honorably in the courtyard. Bergljot stooped over them. Her hands brushed the son's red-matted hair and went across his husband's gashed forehead; she closed their eyes. "Then farewell, my dearest," she whispered, "and thank you."

  Rising, she swept the armed yeomen with a gaze like dry flame. Her voice lifted. "Are you waiting there yet? Are you not men enough to avenge him who ever stood by you? What do you mope here for when a murderer and tyrant walks the earth?"

  "My lady ..." One of them pointed to the guards who leaned on their weapons and waited.

  "And you with twice their numbers!" she shrieked. "God cast you down to hell! A dog would fight if its master were slain, but you, you crawling slime-gutted spew of a sick codfish, you stand and let him spit on you and lick it off and thank him. When did he geld you? Coal-biting cowards, spineless brainless gutless muck worms, Satan fry you so you sizzle! Give me a sword! I, old and alone, am more a man than any hundred of you! Cut them down, I tell you! Burn the house! Feed Harald your spears, trample his pack of hirelings in the mud, throw his whores off a cliff, dash his brats' brains out! If you let this hell spawn of an Yngling house live, you'll have collars about your necks and whips on your backs. God curse you now if you betray your friends. Blood, blood on my hands here, blood on the defiled earth, all Norway is one swamp of blood while that wolf runs loose. Follow me and kill him!"

  Her gaze fell on the harbor and she saw the king's dragon putting out of the river and into the fjord. Something went from her, she slumped as if under a sudden weight of years and said through unsteady lips: "Now we sorely miss my kinsman Haakon Ivarsson; for never would Eindridhi's murderer be rowing down the river if he were on the bank."

  As she stood, gray head lowered, one of her housefolk drove up with a wagon. Silently, the men laid the two bodies in it, and Bergljot mounted up beside the driver. She looked over the yeomen and said quietly: "There will be no more freedom for you, but that is as you deserve. . . . Drive slowly. We will be home soon enough."

  Einar Thambaskelfir and Eindridhi his son were buried beside King Magnus the Good.

  VIII

  How Haakon Ivarsson Went Wooing

  1

  Finn Arnason had prospered with the years. He was the king's sheriff in his district, out where the fjord opened to the sea; his youthful second wife, also named Bergljot, was a daughter of Harald's brother Half dan; he owned broad acres, and his West-Viking cruise had yielded a huge booty. When the royal longship, with her crew of a few guardsmen and some hastily rallied carles, docked at his garth, he came down himself to bid his lord welcome. Peering and round-shouldered from his nearsightedness, gray of hair and wrinkled of face, he still cut a powerful figure, and sensed quickly that something had gone awry. So he took the king alone into a small loft room, set two big English goblets of mead on the table, and said: "Now, then, if there is aught in which I can help you, let me hear."

  Harald drank deep, wiped his mustache with the back of one sinewed hand, and in a few blunt words, told what had happened and how the whole Throndlaw would soon be in an uproar against him.

  Finn's hairy cheeks changed color, and he burst out: "Indeed you do ill in all things! Everywhere you wreak mischief, and afterward you're so frightened you know not what to do!"

  The king laughed bleakly. "I think I had scant choice in this matter. And this I do know: that you, kinsman, are now going into the town to make my peace with the yeomen, and if that fails, you must journey to the Uplands and see that Eindridhi's folk don't rise to make an end of me."

  Finn stroked his beard
with nervous fingers. "The man to beware of is Haakon Ivarsson," he muttered. "He's the son of the sheriff Ivar the White, away in the Uplands, and a daughter's son of Haakon Jarl the Great. I got to know him well when we were together in the Westlands—a young man, hardly more than twenty winters old, but brisk, valiant, clever, and haughty as Satan. Surely Einar's widow will send to him to avenge her husband. This is an evil business; I would it had never happened."

  "I too," said Harald. "I'd not make it worse by bearing a shield against my own folk."

  "Yes, better to swallow one bitter mouthful than spew up everything in our bellies. But what will you give me if I venture on this mission for you?" Finn blinked and squinted, as if trying to read the blurred bony face across from him. "For we know this much, that both the Thronds and the Uplanders will be such foes to you that no messenger of yours will dare near them if he be not one who'd be spared for his own sake."

  "Go you, kinsman," said Harald. "If anyone can soothe them, you are the man. Afterward you may ask of me whatever you wish."

  Finn paused. A wistfulness crossed his heavy countenance. "Well, then," he said at length, "if you will give me your word, I shall name my reward: that my brother Kalf be allowed to come home in peace and safety, and get not only his property back, but the same honors and powers he had ere being exiled."

  Harald made no answer at once. He had heard enough of Kalf Arnason to realize the man would be no friend to any king, even one who pardoned him. Had he, Harald Hardrede, cut down one Einar Thambaskelfir, at God knew what cost each night he sought sleep, only to raise another?

  But . . .

  "Yes," he said. "You shall have that reward."

  "We will get witnesses and handsel the bargain," said Finn. It hurt Harald a little that the chief trusted him no more than that, but he nodded. Finn cleared his throat. "But what shall I offer Haakon to get him to swear peace with you? For his yea or nay will decide the matter."

  "First hear what he wants," said Harald. "Then press my case as best you are able, and in the end deny him nothing short of the kingdom."

  The same day Finn gathered his men and went into Nidharos, while Harald proceeded southward to Mori. There he got help from Thorberg Arnason and other chiefs, until he had a goodly host again at his back.

  Haakon Ivarsson lived in Raumariki, a short two days' ride from the Oslofjord; here the Uplands rose steeply, and his garth sat on the flank of a hill plunging down toward thick forest. It was a cold, gusty day in early fall when he received his guests; the woods and meadows were sallow, the sloping fields stubbled dry gold under a wan sky and a bright heatless sun. Cloud shadows hurried across the land; storks and geese and lesser birds were southbound by the clamorous thousands. The steading, long timber buildings around three sides of a paved courtyard, huddled dark on the hillside. Smoke whipped from the roofs. The housefolk were at work, men threshing in the barn, women weaving, salting, smoking, and cooking. One of them saw a large party wend up the road and shouted. The men dropped their work to pick up weapons, but Haakon went into the main house and donned good clothes. He had been expecting this visit, since a messenger arrived a few days ago.

  He came out as the troop rode into the courtyard and lowered his spear when he recognized them. He was a tall young man, lithely built, with high cheekbones and an uptilted nose. Curly light hair blew around his long skull, but save for a wheaten-colored mustache the face was clean shaven and the chin jutted stubbornly. His eyes were big and gray, set wide apart between lashes a woman might envy. He wore rich dress: a white shirt, a velvet doublet from England, blue breeches of fine linen, a flame-red silken cloak clasped with a golden brooch; but the hand holding his spear was muscular.

  "Good day to you, kinsmen, and welcome," he said.

  Finn Arnason reined in his horse and dismounted heavily. Orm Eilifsson, the Upland jarl and Finn's son-in-law, joined him, a grave and stately man nearing middle age. They were followed by almost a hundred warriors, as befitted their dignity, but were not themselves armored.

  "It's good to see you again, Haakon," said Finn. "I'd hoped that a happier occasion might have brought about this meeting."

  Haakon frowned, but led them inside with due courtesy. They drank together and talked of small things. Yet their minds were not on it, and Haakon soon broke out roughly:

  "I know you're here on an errand. Shall we settle that at once, before the evening meal?"

  "Yes, perhaps we'd best do so." Orm nodded.

  Haakon took them into the foreroom where they could talk privately and waved them into chairs. He himself sat at the edge of his, turning his beaker between ring-bedecked fingers.

  "Well, now," said Finn, "I suppose you've guessed we are here to make peace between you and the king."

  "That will be hard work," replied Haakon in a mumble.

  "I am not one to take up a cause lightly," went on Finn, "but in this I've toiled, for it seems on the whole good. I went into Nidharos and addressed the townfolk, asking them to weigh what they did ere rising against their lord. I reminded them of what they suffered when they behaved thus toward holy King Olaf, and I laid before them Harald's offer of full weregild for this killing, as determined by men of wisdom. They finally agreed to let the matter rest until Bergljot's messengers to you had returned."

  "Aye," said Haakon, "those men are still here. I was about to send them back with war word when your message came; but I only waited out of respect for you two."

  ' 'What I said to the Thronds could also be said to you," Finn told him. "Einar and Eindridhi were not altogether foully murdered. They had given some cause when they broke the peace at the Thing and set the law aside for one man. Now the king offers you atonement."

  Haakon sprang to his feet and paced. A lynx light flared in his eyes, and he said thickly: "I care not for haggling over rights and wrongs. It's enough that the wrong is mostly Harald Hardrede's—not only this slaying of an old and honored man and the man's son, but all the harshness and greed we've had to take from him." He stopped, fists clenched at his side. "Before God, Einar and Eindridhi were my own kin. Eindridhi was my dear friend. Their ghosts would shriek were I to take money for their blood."

  "And would you tear the land asunder?" asked Orm.

  "It need not be so." Haakon clipped his words off, one by one. "You know the Thronds and the Uplanders will be with me if I but lead them. Harald can be fed to the fish. That devil needs no better grave."

  "Still," said Orm, "the Southern shires will aid him. And it would be strange if Svein Estridhsson took not the chance to avenge himself on us while we lay at each other's throats."

  "There are worse men than Svein," said Haakon. "From what I hear, he reigns as well as one could expect."

  "If the Danes are to come back, they must cross my body first," swore Finn. "Who else could be king if Harald fell? His brothers are worthy men, but unfitted for such a task. They'd refuse the honor were it offered them. The only other Yngling left is a baby, Magnus Haraldsson."

  "If we must have him, we can name some chief as regent."

  "And when he grows up? That's a revengeful breed, Haakon."

  "Then wipe out the whole accursed nest of them!" spat the younger man.

  Orm crossed himself. "An evil thought, killing a helpless child. No luck would come of such a deed. And a land without a king of the God-appointed house will lie under heaven's wrath."

  "They do well in Iceland," said Haakon.

  "But Iceland is walled in by sea. And even there, it's one family feud after another, till someday they wreck themselves. We've hungry neighbors."

  Haakon stood unhappily, his eyes on the floor.

  Finn got up and laid a hand on his shoulder. "Think well, my friend," he said. "You know I'm no bootlicker, nor is Orm Jarl; we only seek that which is best for the land. Any man can work crime in a hasty moment, and Christ has told us to forgive those who use us ill."

  "When I wish to hear such talk, I'll go to a priest," said Haakon.

&n
bsp; "Well, then, think what is best for yourself and your own family. Harald has made a fair offer of atonement; you can well-nigh set the terms yourself. Surely you'd be wiser to take what honor you wish from the king, without battle, than venture into strife with your lawful lord—a strife in which the chances say you would buckle under. If you lose, you forfeit peace and all you own, belike your very life; and if you should win, for the rest of your days you'd have the name of one who betrayed his rightful king."

  "Yes," rumbled Orm. "Finn speaks truth. We are here more as your friends, Haakon, than as Harald's."

  "Bethink what you want of him," urged Finn. "No man can say you deserted your cause, if you get proper amends."

  "By thus strengthening yourself," added Orm, "you'll be able to shield your folk from greater trouble; but in open war, their homes would lie defenseless."

  Haakon did not speak for a while, then: "I'll think on it. Say no more now."

  He took them back into the main chamber, where they again talked of indifferent matters until evening. The drinking that night was not cheerful, and everybody soon went to bed.