The matter would likely have resulted in blows being exchanged at that point, but for Torvald's imposing size and obvious great strength. Nevertheless, Arinbjorn's men continued to shout angrily, shaking their fists at Torvald and me, and refused to pay. Tore, the two ravens, and several others of our crew were crowding in by now, and Torvald was proclaiming loudly that men who did not pay their debts were no better than thieves, when Hastein and Arinbjorn pushed their way between the two sides and ordered all to be silent.
Arinbjorn ordered his men to pay the wagers they had lost to Torvald. "Whether you were tricked or no, you placed wagers with this man and lost them, and they are now debts you owe. You will not dishonor yourselves and me by refusing to pay them. Although in truth," he added, "if there was trickery involved, by one who was treated as an honored guest at my high table in my longhouse at last night's feast, then there is another whose honor is called into question by this matter."
"Jarl Arinbjorn," I told him, "I assure you, there was no trickery on my part. My first shot was a very poor one, but honestly so. I did not shoot so badly on purpose."
"To shoot beneath the rim of a helm as you did and strike an enemy's face—or a cabbage—is not an easy thing to do," he replied. "To do so twice, as quickly as you did, was a mark of great skill with a bow. I confess I cannot understand how one so skilled could take his time shooting at a much easier target and miss it altogether."
I did not blame him for not believing me. My protests sounded implausible even to my own ears.
"I do not know how to explain it," I told him, "other than to say I am unused to shooting at a butt. I am used to shooting at a target that is only briefly seen, or is moving. I am used to shooting in order to kill."
Thankfully, Hastein intervened. "I, too, am surprised by how poorly Halfdan shot his first arrow, given his skill with a bow. And I will admit to you that my steersman, Torvald, is overly fond of jests and of wagering, and I could well suspect that trickery might be involved due to his role in this matter. But I know Halfdan to be a man of unwavering honor. He would not lie about this. If he says there was no trickery on his part—if he says his first arrow was just a poor shot, and nothing more—then I must believe him, no matter how unlikely the truth would seem to be."
Hrodgar also spoke up. "I agree with Jarl Hastein. In my own dealings with Halfdan, I have found him to be more honest and desirous of doing what is right than are most men. I do not believe he would lie to you."
Arinbjorn was silent for a long moment, his eyes with a faraway look in them and his right hand absent-mindedly stroking his beard, as he was weighing all that had occurred and had been said. Finally he spoke, directing his words first to Hastein. "I cannot doubt your word or your honor, for I know the man you are." Turning to me, he added, "Therefore it seems that I cannot doubt your word, either. There was no trickery involved. I accept that as the truth. This matter is over—we will put it behind us."
He turned and strode off in the direction of the longhouse. Hastein accompanied him. Gradually the rest of the folk began to drift away in that direction, as well.
Sigurd came up to me. "How do you do it?" he asked. "How did you learn to shoot your bow so well? I would like to become as skilled as you."
How did I learn to shoot my bow so well? I could not tell him the true answer. When I was a thrall, the times when I could slip away into the forest with my bow were the only times I could feel free. If I had not produced meat for Ubbe when he had allowed me to leave my other chores behind, if I had not managed to find and kill game when I was allowed to take my bow into the forest, I would quickly have lost that privilege. The hunger for freedom is a great motivator.
"Do you wish to learn to shoot a bow in war?" I asked him. Many men did not. While they might occasionally pick up a bow to try their hand at hunting, most warriors preferred to fight with spear and sword. My brother Harald had been such, and my father, Hrorik, as well.
Sigurd nodded. "I do," he assured me.
"You must practice often," I told him. "Not because you must, but because you wish to. And you should learn to shoot a much more powerful bow—one capable of shooting a great distance, and pushing its arrows through armor. There are also some things you must do differently." I took his bow from him, and handed him mine to hold.
"The way you draw and shoot your bow will prevent you from ever being able to shoot a powerful bow. You must change how you do them. You draw your bow like this," I said, and held his bow in my extended left arm, while I drew the string back with my right. I had been correct—Sigurd's bow was a weak one. "You draw the bow only with your right arm. You cannot do that with a truly powerful bow."
I lowered his bow and held it pointing down, at the level of my waist, with both arms flexed. "You must learn to use the strength of your back and chest, and both arms together, when you draw," I explained. "Like this," I added, as I raised his bow, pushing it out with my left arm at the same time as I pulled the string back with my right.
Holding his bow at full draw, I raised my arms up and tilted my head down until I was looking along the arrow. "And you try to aim your bow like this," I told him. "Looking along the arrow. It does no good to do so—the arrow will not shoot where you are looking, unless you are very, very close to the target—and again, by drawing a bow in this position, you will never be able to shoot one that is powerful." I lowered the drawn bow until my left arm, holding it, was extended out level from my shoulder. "This is where you should hold the bow when you draw it," I told him. "And do you see my thumb, on the hand with which I draw the string? Do you see how it is extended up?"
Sigurd nodded.
"I always draw my string back until my thumb just touches my ear. That way I know I am always drawing the same."
"But how do you aim your arrow?" he asked.
"I do not look at the bow, or at the arrow. I look where I wish to hit. If you practice enough, and learn to draw the way I have told you, in time you and the bow will learn to work together as one, and it will do your bidding."
"That is all I need to do?" Sigurd asked. He did not sound convinced.
Learning to shoot a bow well required much practice—more than I suspected Sigurd would ever be willing to do. "That is all I can teach you," I answered.
* * *
The captain who had seen Toke's ships was named Bard. "I only just happened to see them," he told us. "They were abroad very early—just past dawn. I had taken my ship out from the nor at first light. We were headed for the northern opening of the channel between Mon and Sjaelland, to watch for ships entering from the Austmarr. We had just rounded Nyord—the small island that lies close to Mon's northern cape—when we saw them: two ships up ahead, heading out into the Austmarr under sail. I remember thinking that these were men who did not wish to be seen."
"Why did you think that?" Hastein asked.
"The channel between Sjaelland and Mon is quite narrow in places, and it is a winding path to follow. Yet to have reached its eastern end by daybreak, these ships had to have traveled it in the dark. It would have been far safer for them to have waited for daylight to sail it."
"Did you stop them? Did you speak to them?"
Bard nodded his head. "They were hugging the Sjaelland side of the channel, and were already well ahead of us—almost beyond Nyord—when we spotted them. Although we were supposed to remain in the channel to watch for any ships heading into our waters from the open sea, I was curious, so we gave chase. We were eventually able to draw close enough for me to get a look at them, and see that they were two longships, one whose dragon's head was painted red and carved like the head of an eagle, the other a gilded stallion's head. And both ships were lightly manned. At first, they did not slow at all when they saw us. If anything, they seemed to be trying to pull away from my ship. I thought perhaps they feared that we planned to attack them, so we mounted our peace shields on our dragon's head. When we did, although they did not stop, they reefed their sails and slowed, allowing
us to pull alongside."
"Did they tell you where they were bound?" Hastein asked him.
Bard shook his head. "I asked. But their leader—he was big man, heavily built, with long black hair and beard—told me that he was not accustomed to sharing his private business with men he did not know."
"Did you see a woman with them?" I asked anxiously.
"Aye," Bard answered, nodding his head. "I did. She was on the ship their leader was on—the one with the eagle's head. I could not see much of her, for she had a cloak wrapped around her, and pulled up to cover her head, as well. It was cold out on the sea that morning. But I could tell it was a woman."
"Does this help you?" Arinbjorn asked Hastein. "It is unfortunate Bard could not learn where they were bound."
"I am almost certain that wherever they were heading, they planned to sail along the northern coast of the Austmarr," Bard volunteered.
"Why do you say that?" Hastein asked.
"As we were preparing to break away and head back to Mon, I called out to their leader that if they planned to sail near Oeland, they should be careful of the pirates there. He became very interested then in what I had to say. He wanted to know all I could tell him about them."
"Pirates?" Hastein asked.
Arinbjorn answered. "We have been told by a number of travelers that a pirate fleet has been hunting the waters off the island of Oeland all summer. They demand tribute from any ships that would pass, if they think them too weak to defend themselves."
"I do not think my warning would have concerned the black-haired one, had he not planned to sail that way," Bard added.
"I thank you," Hastein told Bard. Arinbjorn nodded to him and said, "You may go." To Hastein, again he asked, "Is this of help to you?"
"It is better to know something than nothing," Hastein replied. After a moment, he added, "There is a good chance that the men we pursue are headed for Birka."
"It could be," Arinbjorn said. "If so, following the northern coastline is the most likely route they would take. Have you sailed the Austmarr before?"
Hastein shook his head. "My voyages have all taken me to the west."
"Birka is a goodly distance away. I do not think it can be reached from here—from the western end of the Austmarr—in less than ten days, if you break your journey each night, and that would be with ideal winds. More likely than not it could take you somewhat longer.
"The course you will need to follow will lead you, like those you pursue, along the northern shore of the sea. For the first part of your journey, you will bear east along the southern shores of Skane. There, you will still be in Danish waters. Then the shoreline and your course will turn to the north, and you will pass a long stretch of coast which lies below the southern reaches of the kingdom of the Oster-Gotars, and is sparsely settled. Their folk live mostly inland, well away from the sea. Beyond that lie the lands of the Gotars, then the kingdom of the Sveas. Birka is there, but it is not on the coast. It is a ways inland, located on an island in the midst of a great lake."
"How do we reach that lake? I thought Birka was a port town?"
"It can be reached from the sea," Arinbjorn replied. "Not long after you pass Oeland—the island where the pirates are — the nature of the coastline will change and you will begin to pass many fjords, plus many small islands along the shore. You will be bearing almost due north when this first happens. After the shoreline turns and runs toward the northeast, you will be drawing near. You must watch for the mouth of a channel that looks from the sea to be a wide bay or the end of a fjord. It drains from the inland lake. Follow it. For most of the channel's length you will be bearing due north, and it narrows toward its end, but after it opens into the great lake, the island on which Birka lies will be in sight, straight ahead of you."
"Are there any particular dangers we should watch for?" Hastein asked.
"It is a great distance, and many years have passed since I have sailed that way," Arinbjorn responded. "This time of year, there is always a risk of bad weather, of course." He paused, and scratched the side of his head. "But the only unusual dangers we have heard of, from ships that have sailed back from that way—to Denmark from Birka, or beyond—are the pirates at Oeland."
I wondered what might lay beyond Birka, and who would venture there, and why.
"Tell me more about these pirates," Hastein said.
"Oeland is a long island that lies a short distance off-shore from the coastline of Gotarland. It is roughly halfway between here and Birka. From what we have heard, there are several ships of the pirates, and they have made a base on or near the island. I should think it unlikely they will trouble you, because of the strength of your war-band you are traveling with. I expect that they seek easier prey. But the men you pursue…" Arinbjorn shrugged. "Two longships, with only light crews to defend them, would make a tempting prize."
My heart sank at Arinbjorn's words. I knew Toke. If pirates had attacked his ships, he would not surrender to them— he would fight. And if he were badly outnumbered, he would almost certainly lose, and likely be killed. If so, my quest for vengeance might be ended. That, at least, would be a good thing. But what of Sigrid? What would happen to her, if the pirates took her?
8
The Austmarr
We departed Mon before mid-day. As was customary, Hastein and Jarl Arinbjorn exchanged gifts at their parting. Hastein gave our host an ornate helm covered with engravings and inlaid with gold, which he had found in Count Robert's quarters in the island fortress in Paris. It was obviously intended more for show than war, but it made a fine gift. In return, Arinbjorn gave Hastein a very thick, long cloak that was dyed a deep blue and decorated with red and gold embroidery along all of its edges. He also gave him a spear with a fine pattern-welded blade, wide and sharp for stabbing and cutting, and a thick, sturdy shaft. It was a spear made more for hewing with rather than throwing.
"With winter approaching, it will be cold out upon the open sea. This cloak will keep you warm," he said. "It was woven by my youngest daughter, Ingirid. She is quite skilled at the loom." His daughter, who had accompanied him to the shore to see us off, looked demurely at the ground when her father complimented her, then raised her gaze and smiled warmly at Hastein.
Torvald chuckled and whispered, "I think Arinbjorn hopes Hastein will be the one who will take the last of his daughters off his hands. He paired her with Hastein at the feast, as his horn partner. The girl is certainly fair, and it would be a good alliance for both sides."
To my surprise, Sigurd came up to me as we were boarding the Gull and said, "I have a parting gift for you." He twisted a ring off of one of his fingers, and handed it to me. It was silver and had been cast in the shape of a serpent, wound round and round the wearer's finger.
"It is a serpent," he explained unnecessarily, and pointed at his eye. "It is my sign."
"I thank you," I said. I felt awkward, for a gift in return was expected, but I did not know what to give him. I had not planned for this.
Reaching into my quiver, I pulled out an arrow and gave it to Sigurd. "This is the arrow with which I felled the Frankish warrior who almost killed your father, Ragnar, in the great battle in Frankia. May it bring you luck, and whenever you shoot it, always fly true."
In truth, I did not know if the arrow I gave him was the same one I had slain that Frank with. I had many arrows whose feathers were lashed to the shaft with the same color of thread. But Sigurd did not know that, and although an arrow seemed a poor exchange for a silver ring, he looked pleased with the gift.
It was a clear day and we had fair winds. After exiting the mouth of the channel between Mon and Sjaelland, Torvald, who was manning the Gull's steer-board, set a course bearing to the east and slightly north. Ahead of us I could see only the endless rippling waves of the open sea. Behind, the high white cliffs along Mon's eastern coastline remained visible long after the rest of that island, and Sjaelland to the north, had sunk from view as though swallowed up by the wide waters o
f the Austmarr, the Eastern Sea.
The brief layover on Mon, and the generous feast provided by Jarl Arinbjorn the night before, had left all aboard the Gull—even those still feeling the effects of too much ale—in good spirits. For the first time since we had begun our voyage, those aboard the ship seemed to be a single company, rather than three separate groups of warriors: Hastein's men, the carls from the estate, and those from the village. Tore announced loudly for all to hear than while Ragnar Logbrod himself might have given me the name Strongbow while we were fighting down in the land of the Franks, to him I could only be known from this day on as Halfdan Cabbage-Slayer. Everyone—even the brothers Floki and Baug, from the estate—laughed and shouted, "Hail, Cabbage-Slayer!"
Dusk had fallen by the time we approached land again. The coastline of Skane showed as a low shadow against the darkening sky. The old moon had died, and a new moon had not yet grown in the night's womb, leaving only the dim light provided by the stars to cut the blackness. We rowed the ships toward shore slowly and cautiously, as lookouts in the bows threw out weighted lines to test the water's depth and tried to see what dangers might lie ahead, concealed by the darkness.
From the Serpent, Stig called out, "Hastein! It is no good. We cannot see a thing."
By now we were close enough to the shore for the water to be no deeper than Torvald was tall, but we still could not tell whether the shore ahead was rocky or a sandy beach. "You are right, Stig," Hastein replied. "It is too dangerous. We will anchor here for the night."
We set anchors from the Gull'sbow and stern while the crew of the Serpent, lying nearby, did the same, then we rigged tent-like shelters over the two ships' decks with their sails and awnings. Due to the lateness of the hour and the fact that Cullain could not build a fire ashore to cook on, our night meal was a cold, meager one: smoked herring and pieces of hard, dry bread from the new stores Cullain and Torvald had acquired from the village on Mon.
Neither the bow nor the stern were covered by the tenting, and most of the crew gathered in those two areas to eat in the open, under the canopy of stars that filled the night sky overhead. I pushed my sea chest against the ship's side to make room for others, and sat on the deck beside it, my back resting against the strakes of the hull.
The Long Hunt (The Strongbow Saga) Page 14
