The Long Hunt (The Strongbow Saga)

by Roberts, Judson

  "It was their captain, Sigvald, who cut Stig down," Hastein told me, after we found him among the dead and wounded on the fore-deck. "Whatever else he may have been, the pirate was a doughty warrior. Stig had just climbed across the rail from the Serpent's bow and dropped down onto the fore-deck. The pirates there had been scattered when Torvald threw the barrel among them, and we were crossing the rails as quickly as we could from both the Gull and the Serpent to press our advantage before they recovered. Sigvald charged forward, pushing through his men who were either down or falling back, to face us. I saw Stig thrust his spear at him to fend him off while he tried to find solid footing on the deck. Sigvald swung that strange axe-spear he wielded, knocking Stig's spear aside, then he chopped its blade down against his wrist, and drove its point forward through Stig's brynie and into his chest."

  The wound to Stig's chest was high enough to have missed his heart and lungs. If the bleeding could be stopped and if no fever set in, he could possibly survive it. His wrist was shattered and cut half through, though. At best, he would surely lose his hand. And he had lost much blood—possibly too much. As gently as they could, Hastein and Torvald lifted him up off the deck and carried him to the bow rail, where they passed his unconscious body across into the arms of warriors waiting on the Gull's fore-deck to receive our dead and wounded. Stig's head flopped back and forth limply as they did, and his face looked as pale as winter ice. I wondered if he would live out the day.

  After all of our dead and wounded had been recovered, Hastein, Torvald, and the others returned to the Gull and the Serpent. By now we had bound the hands and feet of the prisoners and had lined them up sitting against the side rails of their ship, amidships, half on one side and half on the other. I set Hallbjorn to watch over them, standing in the center of the ship, an arrow nocked and ready on his bow.

  I sent Bram to the bow, to secure the tow lines that were being passed aboard from the Gull and Serpent, then Einar, Gudfred, and I began the grim task of checking the bodies of the fallen pirates and killing any who still lived. As it was, we would be hard pressed to adequately care for our own wounded. We had neither the means nor the desire to also care for those of our attackers who had been badly hurt in the battle.

  As we moved from body to body down the deck, I took the opportunity to search for undamaged arrows that could be retrieved. Ones that had failed to find a target and had stuck in the ship's side rails or deck were easy to recover. Those that had found their marks required more effort.

  The last body I checked was lying on its side, near the base of the mast. One of my own arrows had pierced its chest. A sturdy looking longbow lay on the deck near the body. I realized that this must be the pirate's archer whose arrows had taken such a toll, felling Hrodgar, Tore, and the others.

  Grabbing the body by one shoulder, I rolled it onto its back. In my mind I had pictured so deadly a foe to be a large, powerful warrior, but the archer had been a short man with a lean, wiry build. He wore neither helm nor armor. His head was topped with thick black hair, streaked with gray, cut fairly short so that it framed his face but did not hang as low as his shoulders. His close-trimmed beard was thin and wispy, and his darkly tanned face was seamed with wrinkles. He was wearing a tunic unlike any I had ever seen before: it was made of supple, tanned leather that looked to be deerskin, and had a high collar around his neck that was trimmed with fur. Besides a long knife in a scabbard on his belt, he had no weapon other than the bow that lay beside him.

  I bent down and with my right hand grabbed the shaft of my arrow down low, close to the body, intending to pull it out. With luck, it would not be stuck in bone or sinew, and I would not have to cut the wound wider to free it. When I began to pull, the man gasped and opened his eyes. It startled me, and I jumped back.

  He mumbled some words in a tongue I did not recognize and coughed several times. He winced when he did, and a trickle of blood leaked from one corner of his mouth.

  Hallbjorn, who had been standing nearby keeping watch over the prisoners, strode over and looked down at the dying archer. "This is the one who killed Storolf, and wounded Tore? Hunh—he is a Finn."

  "A what?" I asked.

  "A Finn. One of the forest people. They live deep in the wilds of the lands of the Sveas and the Norse. They usually keep to themselves and do not venture away from their own lands. I wonder how he came to be one of these pirates."

  The man seemed more fully awake now. He looked at the bow Hallbjorn was holding, with an arrow nocked and ready across it, then at my bow, which was in my left hand, down by my side. With much effort, he raised his right hand to his chest and tapped the arrow shaft protruding from it.

  "Whose?" he asked, this time speaking in the common tongue of the north. His voice was weak, scarcely louder than a whisper, and he had a heavy accent that caused me to struggle for a moment to understand what he had said. When I did, I answered, "The arrow?"

  He nodded. "It is mine," I told him.

  His eyes closed. I thought—in truth, I hoped—that he had died. Killing men in battle was one thing. It did not bother me, for if I did not kill them, they would do their best to kill me. But I did not like to kill the wounded. Sometimes it had to be done, but it troubled me to cut a man's throat while he lay helpless, staring into my eyes. I needed my arrow, though. A bow without arrows is just a crooked stick with a string on it.

  After a few moments, the Finn opened his eyes again. "It was…good shot," he whispered.

  By now Einar and Gudfred had gathered round, too. "Shall I finish him?" Gudfred asked. He was holding his sword unsheathed in his right hand. Its point was red with blood.

  The archer tried to raise his hand again, but no longer had the strength. As he stared into my eyes, he crooked his finger, motioning me to come close. "Please," he whispered.

  I was going to ignore him. I thought he was just begging for his life. But he inched his hand jerkily up across his chest to his neck, and began tugging at a leather cord around it. "Please," he said again, and looked at me imploringly.

  I knelt beside him, reached inside the high collar of his tunic, and pulled out a small leather bag that was suspended from the cord.

  "Give to my daughter," he said. Glancing over to where his bow lay on the deck, he added, "My bow I give to you."

  I did not know how this man—a stranger and an enemy—expected I would find his daughter, or even if I could, that I would be willing to. I did not intend to try. And if I wanted his bow, I would take it, whether he offered it to me or not. But though an enemy, he had been greatly skilled. I respected that. "I will," I lied. It cost me nothing to give such small comfort to a dying man. I laid my bow down on the deck beside his, raised his head with my left hand, and slipped the cord bearing the small bag up over his head.

  "Now?" Gudfred asked as I stood up.

  Though I did not wish to cut his throat myself, this man had to die. He was an enemy, he had slain Hrodgar and Storolf, and had badly wounded Tore. I nodded. Gudfred rested his sword's point on the Finn's neck, its hilt grasped in his right fist, cupped his left hand over the pommel, and drove the blade downward. The Finn's body convulsed briefly as his blood welled up around the blade, then he kicked once and was still.

  "What is in the bag?" Einar asked.

  I shrugged. "I do not know."

  "You should not have told him you would give it to his daughter," Gudfred said, scowling. "It is bad luck to break a promise made to a dying man. This voyage is already burdened with too much bad luck."

  I did not consider the words I'd spoken to be a promise. I rolled the cord around the bag and tucked it into the pouch on my belt. I picked up my bow and the dead man's, and took his quiver, as well. I would decide later if I wished to keep them.

  By now the Ravens and their men had finished with both of the pirate ships off the side of the Gull. The lines securing them to each other, and to the Gull's hull, had been cast loose, and they had been pushed away from the side with oars. As Bjorgolf and B
ryngolf led their men forward and climbed across the bows onto the fore-deck of the Sea Steed, Einar called to them.

  "We killed many on that ship with our bows. Our arrows—will you retrieve them for us?"

  Bryngolf nodded and waved his hand in assent.

  I turned toward the prisoners and addressed them in a loud voice. "That ship there," I said, pointing at the Sea Steed. "How came your band to possess it?"

  No one answered. The pirates stared back at me in sullen silence.

  Gudfred strode down the line of prisoners seated along the steer-board side rail, staring intently into each man's face. Not finding whatever he was looking for, he crossed over to the other side, and continued his search. Midway down the line, he stopped in front of a man with a balding head and bushy brown beard.

  "You," he said to the man seated before him. "I recognize you. You are one of Toke's men."

  The man glared at him but did not answer. Gudfred glanced further down the line and pointed at a black-haired man seated two away from the first one. "And you are, also."

  "You know these men?" I asked. Gudfred nodded. "That black-haired one is Toke's for certain. I know his face. He lived in the same longhouse as me for many months, while Toke was at the estate. And this one here," he said, indicating the bushy bearded man in front of him. "He went with the one-eyed man—Snorre—to Frankia. I did not know him nearly as well, but I recognize him."

  I walked over and stood in front of the bald-headed pirate. The man seated on the deck before me had been one of the warriors who had attacked the longhouse up on the Limfjord. He had helped kill Harald and the others. He had sailed with Snorre to Frankia, hoping to find and kill me there. And now he had joined these pirates, and had fought with them this day in a battle that had cost Hrodgar and too many others their lives.

  "You were among the men who attacked the farm up on the Limfjord," I said. "I was there. My brother Harald was slain there. I swore an oath to kill Toke and all who helped him in that attack. I—unlike Toke—am not an oath breaker. But I will offer you this. Tell me how you became a part of this band. Tell me how these pirates came to have Toke's ship, the Sea Steed. Where is Toke now? What happened to him? What happened to my sister Sigrid? Tell me these things, and I promise I will kill you quickly, with as little pain as possible."

  The man sneered up at me. "You will not kill me," he said. "You cannot. Your leader gave his word that we would not be harmed if we surrendered. But I will tell you what you wish to know if you free me—if you let me go."

  What was it Hastein had said? "Surrender, and I give you my word, my men will not kill you."

  "It strikes me," I told the man, "that you are in a poor position to bargain. It is true that the jarl promised that if you and these others surrendered, his men would not kill any of you. And I am one of Jarl Hastein's men. But there are many ways a man can die."

  I turned to Einar and Gudfred. "He wishes to be set free. So be it."

  Gudfred looked confused. To Einar I said, "Help me lift him." We grasped the man under his arms and hoisted him up onto the top strake of the ship's rail.

  "What are you doing?" Gudfred asked. "What of the jarl's promise?"

  "I am not going to kill this man," I answered. "I am going to release him, as he requested. I am not to blame if he cannot swim."

  "Untie me!" the bald man sputtered. Einar grinned and nodded, and we flipped him over the side, into the sea. He coughed and shouted briefly, but it did not take him long to sink beneath its surface.

  I stepped down the line to where the black-haired man was seated. He—and Gudfred—were staring at me in disbelief.

  "And you," I said. "It would seem that because of the promise Jarl Hastein gave, I cannot kill you either, despite my own oath. But there are questions I would like you to answer. Will you tell me what I wish to know, or shall I set you free, as well?"

  "I will tell you," he answered. "I will tell whatever you wish to know."

  * * *

  After completing their quick search for valuables aboard the Sea Steed, the Ravens and their men had climbed back across to the bow of the Serpent, released the grappling lines that had bound the two ships together, and were now using oars to push the ship away from the Serpent's hull. The lines that had held Sigvald's wolf-headed ship lashed tight between the bows of the Serpent and the Gull had already been freed, and tow lines had been passed to us.

  "Look," Einar said, pointing toward Oeland. "Up along the ridgeline, overlooking the shore."

  I looked where he was pointing. A crowd of men and women—mostly on foot, but a few of the former were mounted on horses—lined the crest of the ridge, staring out at our ships. I wondered how long they had been watching. Had they been allies of the pirates? Were these folk, too, now our enemies?

  Almost as if he had heard my thoughts, Einar murmured, "Are they friends or foes?"

  Aboard the Gull, Hastein—who had mounted the stern deck and manned the steer-board—called out to the crew to draw their oars. Torvald, from the stern of the Serpent, did the same. Bjorgolf and Bryngolf led their men across from the Serpent onto the Gull where the two ships' rails were touching amidships and released the lines binding the ships together. After the rowers on both used their oars to push the ships apart, at Hastein's command the oarsmen aboard the Gull began backing her slowly while he pulled the steer-board over sharply. The ship gradually eased around until her stern was toward us and her bow pointing away, southward down the channel between Oeland and the mainland.

  When the Serpent had done the same, the tow lines running back from each ship to Sigvald's were evened up, pulled snug, and tied off, and we at last were ready to get underway.

  Pulling the dead weight of the towed pirate longship would be slow, heavy work for the rowers on the Gull and Serpent. Save for watching the prisoners and using our steer-board to keep the ship's bow headed straight, we aboard the captured ship had little to do. It was as good a time as any to hear Toke's man's tale, and learn what had befallen the Sea Steed and those who had sailed upon her.

  Gudfred had gone astern to man the steer-board. Bram was in the bow, keeping an eye on the tow ropes, and Hallbjorn was still standing watch over the prisoners. Motioning for Einar to follow me, I walked over to where the black-haired man was seated on the deck, his back against the ship's rail. He watched us nervously as we approached.

  "What is your name?" I asked him. On closer examination, I realized he was much younger than I had at first thought.

  "Skjold," he answered.

  "How long have you followed Toke?"

  "Since he left."

  I frowned, not understanding. "Left where?"

  "When Hrorik banished Toke from his home, I left with him. I was from the village. I have been with him ever since."

  When Hrorik had banished Toke. It seemed a lifetime ago. In truth, it had been less than three years. So much had happened since then. So much had changed, so many had died.

  "Gudfred will want to hear this," I told Einar. "Help me lift him."

  I had intended that we would grab the prisoner under his arms and drag him down the deck to the stern, but he quickly protested. "Untie my legs. Let me walk. I give you my word that I will not try to escape. Where would I go?"

  At the stern, we sat the black-haired man down on the edge of the raised rear deck and—despite the promise he had given—I tied his feet again. "You do not need to do that," he said. I stared at him coldly but did not answer. To Gudfred, I said, "His name is Skjold. He says he is from the village near the estate. He said he left with Toke when Hrorik banished him."

  Gudfred stared at him for a time, then frowned, shook his head, and said, "I do not remember you. Who is your father?"

  "Gorm."

  Gudfred nodded. "I knew him." To me he said, "He was killed fighting the English on Hrorik's last raid." Turning back to Skjold, he asked, "Why did you leave your home? Why did you choose to leave with Toke, when Hrorik sent him away?"

  Skjold
shrugged. "I was the middle of five sons. My father's lands were not enough to provide a living for us all."

  "The Sea Steed," I interrupted impatiently. "How did the pirates come to take her?"

  "It was Toke's doing. We learned of the pirates when we passed Mon. A ship we met warned us of them. But we knew only that they were hunting the waters around Oeland. Toke did not think our company was strong enough to fight them—we have only enough men to lightly crew both ships—and he did not want to risk losing…" he glanced up at Gudfred, then at me. "He did not want to risk losing the woman."

  "You mean Sigrid?" I asked. He nodded.

  "Toke pulled most of the crew from the Sea Steed when we neared Oeland. He left only five men—just enough to sail her. I was one of them. Grimar—the man you drowned—was, too."

  "Where are the other three?" Einar asked.

  "They were killed in the fight with your company. They were among those slain aboard the Sea Steed."

  "You said the Sea Steed's capture was Toke's doing?" I asked.

  Skjold nodded. "He told us to sail her up the channel between Oeland and the mainland. He said that if pirates were watching, they would give chase. While we drew them off, Toke would sail the Red Eagle past Oeland on the seaward side, out of sight of land. If there were no pirates, we were to meet along the coast, a day's sail past Oeland. If there were pirates…." He shrugged. "At least Toke and most of his men would pass safely by."

  "It was a great risk for those of you who sailed on the Sea Steed," Gudfred said.

  Skjold shrugged again. "Toke was our chieftain. The others—those who sail with him on the Red Eagle—were our comrades. A man who will not face risk to save his own comrades is not worthy to be called a man. And Toke promised he would reward us well, if we came through safely—if there were no pirates."

  "But there were pirates," Einar said.

  Skjold nodded. "Aye. There were pirates. Toke told us that if there were, and we could not outrun them, we should surrender the ship without a fight. He told us she was not worth dying for."