by Terry Jones
Ragnar Forkbeard was cut through the arm and fell down on the stony beach, but, before his dog-headed foe could raise its sword again, Sven the Strong had run his sword through the creature’s heart, and it gave a cry like a hound of hell, and turned and stumbled back into foaming sea, and the white foam turned red. Then Erik looked up and saw another wave of Dogfighters leap out from their boat and wade across the churning waters.
‘There are too many for us!’ he cried to Thorkhild.
‘Too many or too few – what choice have we?’ shouted Thorkhild, and he dived to miss the swinging blade of the biggest of the Dogfighters – he whose helmet was made of gold that shone so bright it reflected the flashing of a hundred swords. Then Thorkhild grabbed the creature by the foot, and pulled with all his might so that it toppled from the jagged rock into the boiling waves. And Thorkhild caught its mighty sword as it flew from its hand and with one blow he severed the creature’s head in its golden helmet. The head roared for a moment, and then it roared without sound, and then it rolled beneath the waves, and Thorkhild turned with his new sword held high above him.
At this moment Erik heard a strange noise. It was like a groan from hell, and he looked and saw the Dogfighters stopped, still, staring at the sword that Thorkhild held. Whereupon Erik’s men seized their chance and cleaved those terrible creatures through to their backbones, each and every one of them, so that before they had turned to fight again they were already dead upon the stony beach … all but one.
And that staggered towards Thorkhild, still gazing at the sword, the bright blood oozing from beneath its helmet, and it stretched out its hand towards the great sword, and they heard it say one word: ‘Starsword!’ before it too fell onto the stony beach.
Then Thorkhild moved forward, still holding the sword above his head, and the second wave of Dogfighters had frozen in their tracks and stood there motionless in the rolling sea, with the waters breaking about them, staring at the sword. But as Thorkhild stepped into the waves himself, they turned and surged back through the waters to their ship.
And at this a great cheer went up from Erik’s men, there where they stood. But Erik did not cheer. He gripped his sword and cried out, ‘We must stop them going back to whatever hellish land they came from, lest they return here with more of their kind!’
But Erik’s men looked at each other, and murmured, ‘We could never fight them in those icy waters!’
And Erik, seeing his men hesitate, turned to them and said, ‘You think we have won a great victory? But what when we are gone? Who then shall prevent these hounds of hell from returning to take revenge on the old Enchanter, and his daughter?’
‘But the sea is deep!’ cried his men. ‘The waves are cold … Our swords would be frozen in our hands.’
‘Where is your courage?’ cried Erik.
But then the old Enchanter stepped forward and said, ‘They are right! How could you fight these creatures amidst the icy waves? And see! They have already reached their ship. Best let them go!’
‘I have sworn to protect your daughter,’ replied Erik. ‘Our victory just now was but to protect ourselves. Unless I prevent these creatures going, I shall have broken my vow.’
Then Sven the Strong stepped forward: ‘I will come with you, Erik,’ he said. ‘Though no one else goes with us, you shall have my sword beside you.’
And then Ragnar Forkbeard rose up on his good arm and said, ‘I too will come,’ and he struggled to his feet, with his arm’s blood still streaming onto the rock. Then Erik’s men hung their heads. They were put to shame by their wounded comrade, and one by one they stepped forward to join in the desperate venture.
‘You will all die!’ called Freya, the old Enchanter’s daughter.
‘Do not go after them!’ cried the old Enchanter. But Erik and his men moved down to the water’s edge.
‘Stay where you are!’ said a third voice. And they all turned to see Thorkhild standing where he was, the Starsword still held above his head.
‘Here is a power I have never felt before,’ he was saying, and the Starsword seemed to be trembling in his hands. ‘This sword is alive. I can feel it! I can feel it turning in my hands!’
And as they watched in wonder – Erik and his men, Freya and the old Enchanter – they saw the strangest sight. The Starsword seemed to glow, bright as the brightest stars, as Thorkhild held it there above him. And then slowly it seemed to rise into the air, leaving his grasp, and there it hung above him. Then the Starsword turned and began to fly over the foam-flecked waves. Sure and steady it flew. It flew towards the ship that now was speeding the Dogfighters away, inch by inch, drawing closer and closer over the toiling sea. And the Dogfighters rowed, fast and furious, to find the offshore breeze. But the sword drew closer and closer, glowing brighter now in the wintry northern sky.
‘Who has ever seen such a sword as this?’ said Erik, as they gazed from the shore and saw the strange ship with the round sails catch the wind and start to run before it. But the Starsword seemed to catch the wind too, and before the ship reached the horizon, Erik and his men saw the mighty sword strike it. It cut through the very timbers, as if they were snow, and it seemed as if the very entrails of the boat were poured out into the ocean, and the icy water flooded in, and the Dogfighters’ ship began to sink beneath the waves.
And then the sound reached the shore, faint and far-off – like the braying and barking of all the hounds of darkness – before the Dogfighters too were gone, lost beneath the pitiless ocean, and nothing remained.
Then Erik and his men gave a mighty cheer, and they lifted Thorkhild up on their shoulders and carried him back to the Enchanter’s palace. And they held a great celebration that night, and everyone rejoiced at the great victory.
Only Thorkhild was silent. He neither smiled nor joined in the feasting. So Erik took his seat beside him at the table and said, ‘What is the matter, Thorkhild? Today you have saved us all from the most dangerous of foes and you have made this island safe for the old Enchanter and his daughter. You should be happy, and yet you seem sad.’
Thorkhild looked at Erik and said, ‘Today, for a brief moment, I possessed the greatest sword I have ever seen or held in my hands. Now it is gone, and I fear I shall never see nor hold in my hands such a sword again.’
And no matter what Erik, or his men, or the old Enchanter or even his daughter could say or do, Thorkhild would not join in the celebrations. Instead he left the palace, and went and sat on the stony shore in the darkness – gazing out to sea, where he had last seen the Starsword, grieving that he would never hold it in his hands again.
THE THREE WONDERFUL GiFTS
SOME TIME AFTER THE BATTLE with the Dogfighters, Erik came to the old Enchanter and said, ‘Our ship, Golden Dragon, is now ready. We must leave you before the snows come.’
Then they shook hands and the old Enchanter gave Erik and his companions three boxes. ‘Inside each is a precious gift,’ said the old Enchanter. ‘The first is for today. The second is for tomorrow. And the third is for yesterday. But do not open them until you truly have need of them.’
Erik wondered to himself what such gifts could be, but he thanked the old man. And then Freya, the Enchanter’s daughter, gave Erik a cloak, saying, ‘No matter what the wind nor the snow may do, this will always keep you warm.’
Erik took the gifts and put them in a secret cupboard aboard Golden Dragon. Then they carried Ragnar Forkbeard aboard who, alone, lay still sick from his wound. And thus they left the island of the old Enchanter.
Many days passed without sight of land, and the ship became their home, and they slept on the rolling seas with the stars above. But one night the stars were no longer there, and the next day the skies were dark with storm clouds.
‘I fear the snows will soon be upon us,’ said Erik. ‘We must find land or we shall be lost for sure.’
But even as he spoke, a single snowflake floated down out of the heavy sky and landed on the deck of Golden Dragon. At that mo
ment, however, they heard a cry and they looked to the horizon, and there was a speck of land. So they set their sails and were soon speeding towards it. But even as they did so, two snowflakes floated down out of the heavy sky and landed on the deck of Golden Dragon.
‘We must be swift,’ said Erik as they reached the shore, and he ordered all the food and all the clothing that they had to be carried ashore, so they might make their camp there. But even as they began to move all the food and the clothing the snow began to fall … thick and fast it fell out of the silent sky onto the roaring sea.
Soon his men had disappeared from view and the snow blotted out the very land itself, and only Erik and Ragnar Forkbeard remained on board Golden Dragon.
Then the sea began to swell, and the wind whipped up the waves until they lashed across the deck of Golden Dragon, and Ragnar Forkbeard said, ‘I pray we see our comrades again.’ But, even as he spoke, the waves grew higher, and the ship pitched and rolled like a wild horse, and the snow swirled, and the wind roared.
‘I will cast another anchor!’ said Erik, ‘for I fear one will not hold us in such a storm.’
But even as he spoke the waves grew higher, and the ship tossed and reared and rocked, and strained at the anchor, and the timbers creaked.
Then suddenly it all went still, and Erik looked at Ragnar Forkbeard and said, ‘Perhaps the storm is over.’
Ragnar Forkbeard shook his head, but before even he could speak there was a terrible noise. The snow flew up. The wind bellowed, and a wave six times as high as the mainmast crashed over Golden Dragon and sent her spinning and twisting through the blasting waters that tore at her decks like a giant’s hands, snapping the timbers and snatching at the two men who lay on board.
Erik and Ragnar Forkbeard clung on as best they could, but they knew their anchor had gone, and they were now the ocean’s toy as they whirled away into the depths of the storm and the gathering night.
All that night they tossed and span in that terrible tempest, until their heads were dizzy and their bodies ached, but the wonder of it was that, when dawn broke, the storm had vanished, and Golden Dragon was riding as if at anchor in a little bay.
‘How shall we regain our companions?’ said Erik to Ragnar Forkbeard. ‘I dare not risk taking Golden Dragon single-handed out of this little bay into the open sea.’
‘Then we must wait for them to find us,’ answered Ragnar Forkbeard.
‘But we shall be dead before ever they do,’ Erik replied, ‘from cold and hunger.’
‘Have we no food?’ asked Ragnar Forkbeard.
‘None,’ replied Erik. ‘That was all taken off the ship and carried ashore.’
‘Have we no clothing?’ asked Ragnar Forkbeard.
‘None,’ replied Erik. ‘That too was all taken off the ship and carried ashore.’
‘Then indeed we shall die of cold and hunger,’ said Ragnar Forkbeard, ‘before ever we are found.’
And Erik the Viking, and Ragnar Forkbeard gazed across to the white hills, and were silent.
Finally Ragnar Forkbeard spoke. ‘I will not lie here,’ he said, ‘for death to find me helpless and without hope. Let us leave Golden Dragon, and seek our companions on foot.’
‘But they may be far,’ said Erik.
‘They may be near,’ said Ragnar Forkbeard.
‘But the way will all be snow and ice,’ said Erik. ‘If we do not find them by nightfall, I am afraid we shall die.’
‘Let us try,’ said Ragnar Forkbeard.
‘You are not strong enough for such a journey,’ said Erik.
But Ragnar Forkbeard had risen to his feet. ‘I must be,’ he said, and turned to go. At that moment Erik gave a great shout, so that Ragnar Forkbeard looked round in surprise.
‘Of course!’ cried Erik. ‘Can it be that the storm has driven our wits from us? We may have no food. We may have no clothes, but we have the old Enchanter’s gifts, and now, if at anytime, we truly have need of them!’
And without another word he opened up the secret cupboard where he had hidden them.
‘This is the gift for today,’ he said and he opened up the first box and there inside was a bone.
‘Alas!’ said Ragnar Forkbeard, ‘what use is a bone to us today?’ But even as he spoke they heard barking and they looked over to the land, and there were a dozen dogs pulling a sledge and all staring hungrily at the bone.
And Erik said, ‘This certainly was the gift we needed for today!’ Then he took the second box and said, ‘What can be the old Enchanter’s gift for tomorrow?’
Then he opened it, and he and Ragnar Forkbeard looked inside. But all they saw was one grain of corn.
‘Alas!’ said Ragnar Forkbeard. ‘What use will one grain of corn be to us tomorrow?’ And he took the grain of corn and put it in the palm of his hand. But even as he did so a shadow fell across them, and a great white bird swooped down out of the sky and pecked up the grain of corn in its beak. Then it circled once around Golden Dragon, then twice, then a third time it circled round and then finally landed beside them on the deck. Then it turned over on its back and they saw to their amazement that the bird was roasted and ready to eat! And Erik took a knife and cut the bird in two and out fell all manner of fruit.
‘This certainly is a gift for tomorrow,’ said Erik, and they packed all the food up to take with them on their journey.
Then Erik helped Ragnar Forkbeard to the sledge and wrapped him in the cloak that the Enchanter’s daughter had given him.
‘There … now no matter what the snow and wind may do, you will be warm,’ said Erik, and he put the marvellous bone on the end of a long pole and hung it in front of the dogs. Then he himself jumped onto the back of the sledge, and off they sped as fast as the wind that flew across those icy waters.
The dogs barked and ran faster and faster, chasing that marvellous bone, and the sledge whipped over the snow and Ragnar Forkbeard called out to Erik, ‘I am warm and fine in this magic cloak. Are you not frozen to the marrow?’
And Erik replied, ‘One hair on my head is cold, but that is all.’
And on they flew, over the ice sheet and into the frozen lands, and the sun stood a handsbreadth above the horizon.
Then Ragnar Forkbeard called out to Erik, ‘I am warm and fine in this magic cloak, but the wind is icy chill and the sun will soon begin to set. Are you not frozen to the marrow?’
And Erik replied, ‘One hair in my nostril is cold, but that is all,’ and on they flew, over the ice-covered mountains, across crevasses and snow-filled ravines. And the wind blew chill and the sun slipped beneath the horizon.
Then Ragnar Forkbeard called out to Erik, ‘I am warm in this magic cloak, but the wind cuts like a knife and the sun has gone. Are you not frozen to the marrow?’
And Erik replied, ‘One hair on my leg is cold, but that is all,’ and on they sped through the ice-filled night. And little by little Ragnar Forkbeard fell asleep, wrapped safely in the magic cloak.
When he awoke, the sun had climbed into the sky again, and the sledge still sped through the white winter world, and Ragnar Forkbeard called out, ‘I have slept snug and fine in this magic cloak, but the night has been bitter and deathly cold. Are you not frozen to the marrow?’
And Erik replied not one word. Ragnar turned and saw Erik still standing on the sledge behind him but as stiff as rock. When he reached out his hand to touch him, he found his companion was frozen hard as ice.
Ragnar Forkbeard stopped the sledge, took his comrade in his arms, looked up at the wintry northern sun and cursed the day, and the sun hid behind a cloud.
‘What shall I do?’ he cried. ‘Can Erik be dead?’ And the tears from his eyes froze before ever they reached the ground, and lay there in the snow like pearls. ‘Would that the sun had never risen today!’ he cried, ‘for yesterday Erik was alive and well and today he is cold as ice. And there is no man can bring back the day that is gone!’
With a heavy heart, he lay Erik down and wrapped him in the magic
cloak, saying, ‘At least the snow and the wind shall not touch you now.’ And he took the food that they had brought and put it before him saying, ‘How can I eat, when my comrade and leader is cold as death?’
But even as he spoke these words his eye fell upon something that lay in the sledge. Can you guess what it was? It was a small silver box. ‘The third of the old Enchanter’s gifts,’ said Ragnar Forkbeard to himself. ‘The gift that is for yesterday. Now, if at anytime, I truly have need of that!’ And he took it, and lifted up the lid, and looked in. To his dismay the box was empty.
‘Alas!’ cried Ragnar Forkbeard. ‘The old Enchanter’s third gift, the gift that was for yesterday has been lost, and all my hopes too are fled.’
‘But perhaps it is a small gift,’ he said. ‘A very small gift … Perhaps it is no bigger than a speck of dust …’ and he put his eye right up to the box to look. As he did so, he noticed that in the lid of the box there was a mirror, and in the mirror in the lid of the box he saw his own reflection and he realised that it was talking to him. ‘Ragnar Forkbeard,’ it said, ‘listen to me!’
‘Who are you?’ cried Ragnar Forkbeard.
‘I am you,’ said his reflection, ‘but I am the you that lived yesterday, for this mirror is made of yesterday glass. Now speak to me no more, but show the mirror to Erik.’
So Ragnar Forkbeard held the mirror up to the face of his lifeless companion, and when he looked in the mirror he caught his breath, for there, in the reflection, Erik was as alive as he had been the day before.
‘Hold me closer,’ said Erik’s reflection, and Ragnar Forkbeard held it closer to Erik’s face. Then the reflection leaned forwards so that it came right out of the mirror, and put its face up against Erik’s, and breathed on him. And as Ragnar Forkbeard watched, the colour began to return to Erik’s cheek, then his eyelids began to tremble, and the breath returned to his body. At last his eyes opened and he smiled.
