Poul Anderson

by The Golden Horn; The Road of the Sea Horse; The Sign of the Raven (epub)

  "Come with me." Harald took a torch from a sconce and led the way to an upper room. It was dark there; the sputtering fire in his hand threw weird lights against murk. He closed the door. "Say your name and errand."

  "I hight Gauk, my lord, and I'm a thrall on Kalf Arnason's steading. My life I've risked to run away hither. Some'd say 'twas betraying my master, but I say ye're the king and—"

  Harald seized his coat and shook him. "Be done with your chatter. What is it you have to tell?"

  Gauk's slanting eyes rolled in fright till the whites gleamed. He wiped his nose with one work-twisted hand and snuffled. "My lord, I've been serving in the house there o' late, till it should be plowing time, and oft I've heard my master speak with other men what guested there. They talk of uprisings, my lord; they e'en talk o' making my master king. Methought if I warned ye, ye'd give me freedom and your shielding. ..."

  Harald's hand dropped. "Is this the truth?" he asked slowly. "For God save you if it's not."

  "I'd think ye can find out for yourself, lord, now I've told ye what to look for. Spies, no? Or asking out o' some men I can name." Gauk's teeth jittered together and sweat stood forth on his skin. "Hell take me if I speak not truth."

  Harald stood still a long while. Wrath rose in him, tasting of vomit. He cast the torch to the floor and stamped it dead.

  "God's belly!" he snarled into the sudden darkness. "If treachery is what that dog wants, treachery he shall have till he chokes on it!"

  At the same time, part of him wove plans, busily as a spider. This must be kept hidden . . . some story made up to account for Gauk's fleeing hither, the thrall bought from Kalf.

  4

  In summer Harald ordered out a fair-sized levy and sailed down to Denmark. Kalf Arnason followed him with a goodly band, and though the king's manner was chill they often held counsel together. Kalf was learned in war, his redes were cunning and he fought bravely wherever they landed.

  As usual, Jutland was the first to suffer. The Norse sailed south along its eastern coast, going inland to plunder and burn. But the pickings had gotten lean here, and when they reached the Little Belt, Harald steered across to Fyen. On that island they sacked a large thorp, and then the king ordered a few days' rest.

  "Is that wise?" asked Ulf. "Svein will have time to bring his army here."

  "Let him," said Harald curtly. He looked out of his tent, down the grassy slope to his ships lying beached and his men loafing about their fires. "We'll have a reckoning, perhaps."

  "This force of ours is too small to stand before a real host," said Kalf.

  Harald gave him a sneer. "So you fear them?"

  The chief reddened. "I've never been called craven, my lord," he answered, "but neither has any called me fool."

  "Have they ever given you the name of traitor?" asked the king.

  "I was ever true when I'd given my oath," said Kalf steadfastly.

  "As to St. Olaf?"

  "Here, now, who are we fighting this year?" cried Ulf. His dark, pocked face looked anxious. "Kalf but offered his advice. And I think he is right."

  "I have the only right here, unless you plan to rebel," replied Harald.

  Ulf traded a look with Kalf. The chief tugged his bushy beard and said nothing, but his look was resentful. Presently they both excused themselves and walked from the tent.

  "You must learn to forgive King Harald," said Ulf. "He has these black fits, and then it's best to shorten sail and run before the wind."

  "I'm not one to swallow insults," mumbled the other.

  "Then show him you're trustworthy. He's not a man I'd care to have for an enemy, but he's the best of friends to his friends."

  Kalf snorted and left him.

  When the men were beginning to grumble with boredom, Harald struck camp and embarked them again. They rowed slowly along the Fyenish coast, seeking another place to raid. But after two days they caught the dusty flash of armor. Harald shouted a command to lie to, and stood peering at the host which neared.

  It was larger than his own, many hundreds of men coming over the fields with swaying spears and clattering shields. Those who stood near the king saw a wolf's smile cross his lips.

  "Blow the signal to make ready for a landing," he told Styrkaar. "But first summon Ulf and Kalf here to lay plans."

  There were still some four miles to the Danish Army when marshal and chief boarded the royal dragon. Ulf's eyes flared with excitement. "So you think we can overcome them?" he asked at once.

  "I know so, if we but work shrewdly, and then the whole island lies open to us." Harald's gaze locked with Kalf's. "Do you go ashore first with your men and assail their right wing. That will swing their line about, and I'll come after with the main host and flank them."

  The chief frowned. "It's a rash scheme," he said. "What if you come too late?"

  Harald freighted his tongue with scorn. "So you're afraid after all, Kalf? I think you must not be even a bull calf, but a heifer."

  The Arnmodhling's tone shook. "I see why men hate you," he said thickly. "Well, then, go I shall, and do you fight as well as I if you dare!"

  His shoes boomed on the planks as he stalked to his boat. Ulf gave Harald a troubled look.

  "Hold back until I lead the second wave," ordered the king. "Whatever happens, wait for me to move first." He went to his chest, opened it and took out his mail.

  Kalf's ships scraped bottom, his men leaped out to pull them higher and then, shield in hand, formed ranks behind his banner. They trotted heavily toward the Danes. Harald donned his quilted underpadding and cap, slipped byrnie and hauberk and gilt helmet over these, and hung sword at waist and shield at shoulder. Down the length of the ship, his men also became inhuman iron-skulled creatures. They sat about watching Kalf's advance, grinning as jokes went among them: the royal guards, heavy-boned, leather-tough, flea-bitten ruffians whose weapons had smoked on a score of stricken fields, who looted a house with the glee of small boys raiding a bird's nest, who bragged monstrously and with filthy oaths about war and women, then went on to boast of the godlings they had for children at home; think of it, the lad is already making his own rabbit traps!

  A dip in the land swallowed up both Norsemen and Danes. Across the miles, drifted faint clangor, shouts, the dull hooting of horns.

  "Are we not to go yet?" Eystein shivered at the bulwark. "The fighting's begun, my lord!"

  "Let it go on for a little," said Harald.

  "But—"

  "Be still. I command this host."

  The men stirred restlessly, puzzled and anxious. It was strange that they should sit here on a glassy sea, under a blazing sky, slapping at flies while war burned two miles away.

  No word was spoken for some time. Harald sat brooding in the bows, leaned against the snake neck. Dust rose from the hollow, earth torn up under reeling feet.

  Then men came into sight, scattered and running beachward. "That's our folk!" Eystein's voice cracked. "They've been beaten!"

  "Ashore, then, to avenge them," said Harald coolly.

  His keels furrowed the grass growing down to the water's edge, and his men hurried to rank themselves. Kalf's band was nearing, with the Danes close after in a whooping tide. Harald nodded to himself. He was sorry that their banner was not Svein's—some powerful chief's, to judge by its rich weave as it bobbed closer. But their pursuit had made their front ragged and unready.

  Swiftly, now, he snapped his orders and led the way. The Danes halted as they grew aware of him, horns lowed, they scrambled to re-form the wedge.

  Arrows hissed through the air, a flung spear trembled in Harald's path. Forward!

  That was a hard-fought battle, yelling blades and thundering axes, cloven shields and smashed helmets and men gasping out their lives on red and slippery grass. Back and back the Danes were driven, across the swale where Kalf and his folk lay dead, and there Harald chopped down their leader himself and flung their standard to the ground. The Fyen men wavered, the Norse shouted and pressed in; sud
denly there were only the fallen and the fleeing.

  Harald pursued, striking and shooting at their backs, till he was sure they were a broken force. Then he returned to the beach.

  Among sweating, panting, wildly cheering warriors he saw no few bitter faces. Kalf's ship lay canted, and the chief was there, stretched along a bench. Someone had closed his eyes and folded his hands, but flies clouded the thickening blood.

  Ulf walked stiff-legged up to Harald. The lines from nose to mouth were drawn tight, gashes across his face, and he breathed heavily. "You sent Kalf to his death!" he stormed.

  "All men are born fey," said Harald. "And we whipped the enemy; that's what we came hither for."

  "In God's name, why? He was your friend!"

  "That he was not," said Harald, "and I'll give you no yea or nay if you accuse me, but say merely that I'm not ill content."

  He looked into the sky, up to the wan daylight moon, and made a verse:

  "Thirteen men I've had murdered,

  manslaughters unforgotten;

  honor drove me to evil:

  with evil is evil rewarded.

  Ever 'twas hard to answer

  with aught but betrayal a traitor;

  lies bear each other's likeness;

  leechcraft uses a sickness."

  Ulf turned wrathfully away, and it was some time before he yielded his friendship again. But Styrkaar guffawed and repeated the verse for others.

  With Fyen helpless before them, the Norse thrust inland, fighting and burning and taking home a mighty booty. Afterward Harald returned to Oslo to oversee the work there, and got news that Jarl Orm Eilifsson had died.

  5

  Finn Arnason had sat home during the summer, busying himself with small affairs that swarmed like ants to fill a man's days. Toward the end of the season, he ordered butchering and brewing and other preparations made for a great feast, with which he meant to welcome Kalf back.

  It was a day of fine, misty rain when one of the thralls cried that ships were standing in. The sheriff flung a cloak over his shoulders and stumped eagerly out. Through the drizzling air, he could just spy the three dragons which neared his dock, shadow ships in a shadow world. About him, the planks thundered with feet, housefolk getting in each other's way, shouting importantly to fetch hawsers. One little boy leaned too far in his excitement and went into the water; hoo, hoy, a turmoil and a dozen boathooks and a spanking for him! Finn smiled, trying to forget the ache in his bones.

  The nearest vessel drew in her larboard oars, men grabbed flung ropes and pulled, sea-battered strakes thumped against bollards. Her skipper sprang to the dock. "Where's Finn Arnason?" he cried.

  "Here I am." The sheriff groped forward. Raindrops sat in his gray beard. He blinked at the captain. "Who are you? Oh, yes, to be sure, Gautrek Highbreeks; I remember you now. Did you have a good voyage? Where's my brother?"

  The seaman looked away. "Kalf is dead," he answered slowly.

  Finn stood very quiet, leaning on his spear.

  "He died in Fyen," went on Gautrek. "We found a churchyard and buried him there. Our chaplain said Mass for him. . . . The king would not let us go home before he did himself."

  Finn shook his head, as if he had taken a blow.

  "He died bravely," said Gautrek in a clumsy voice. "He fell against heavy odds. Few of us were left after that battle, only enough to man three ships. We burned the rest."

  "Well—" Finn stopped.

  Men were making the other craft fast and stretching sails to shield the cargo; they spoke little, and in hushed tones. The thin rain hid the other shore; water dripped from the boathouse eaves like tears.

  "Well," said Finn, "come up to the hall. We'll have food in a short while."

  "There was never a more valiant man than Kalf Arnason," said Gautrek, matching his slow pace. "All mourn him. It's like, well, an old tree which has stood all your life, and then suddenly lightning strikes it. The sky looks empty afterward."

  "One by one," said Finn. He nodded, the careful nod of an aging man. "One by one."

  Gautrek looked around, then brought his mouth close to the sheriff's ear. "If you want revenge on that wolf we call king, then I'm your man."

  "Eh?" Finn halted. The soaked mantle dripped at his feet; soon he stood in a puddle. "What mean you?"

  "Know you not? Harald Hardrede slew him, as surely as if he'd wielded the blade himself. He sent us to meet an overwhelming force of Danes, and held back his own men till we were beaten and Kalf dead."

  "I cannot believe it," whispered Finn.

  Gautrek spat. "You must be simple-minded indeed, if ever you thought the king would make peace with Kalf."

  Finn stared at the gray blur which was his world. "And I summoned him home," he said.

  Abruptly he straightened, lifting the spear, and shouted forth: "Now God be my witness, from this moment I'm Harald's foe! Here and now, before you all, I curse Harald Hardrede. I swear to do him no less ill than he's done me. Christ above, I ask You, where is Your honor, that You have not already cast him into hell?"

  Gautrek shuddered and crossed himself. "Speak not so—" he began, but Finn did not hear. He raved for minutes before silence returned to him. Then he stood shaking as if with an ague.

  When finally he spoke again, it was in a dulled voice. "Come with me to the hall, friends. We've much to talk about." He led the way and himself told Bergljot the news.

  In the next few days he worked calmly, setting his affairs in order and gathering ships and men. With no small following, he bade Norway farewell and sailed off for Denmark.

  There he sought out Svein, who gave him a friendly welcome and spoke long with him in private. It ended with Finn and his family swearing troth to the Danish king, who made him jarl in Holland. Here he steered the defenses against his countrymen, the Norse Vikings, and was often in battle with them.

  He had thought to meet Haakon Ivarsson and lay plans for a return under the rebel banner. But this was not to be.

  Chapter XI:

  How Haakon Ivarsson Came Home

  1

  There was a man named Asmund, son of King Svein's lately dead brother Björn. As a boy he was handsome, brave, and gallant, so that all adored him, not least the king his uncle. When his beard started to grow, he was taken into the royal guard and shown every honor. He was now a big, thick-shouldered youth, with good-looking features, dark hair, and sulky lips, and was rich enough to keep a following of his own. But these were a raffish, murderous crew, and their wildness soon entered Asmund's blood until he was guilty of no few manslayings himself.

  After upbraiding him vainly for some months, Svein discharged him from the guard, but gave him a fief to support him with his men and mistresses. Scarcely had Asmund moved there, when he began gathering more companions of the same sort, until his lawful income could not be stretched to feed them. So he laid hands on much more of the king's goods than was his right.

  When Svein heard of this, he summoned Asmund to him and said: "For the sake of our kinship and the love I ever bore you and your father, as well as because Christ tells us to forgive those who work harm, I will still be patient with you. Give up your fief and your evil friends, come back to the guards, and this shall be forgotten. Otherwise it will go ill for you, my friend."

  The youngster agreed gloomily, and behaved himself for a time. Then one night he could endure it no longer, so he fled, and sought out his old comrades. They lived in northern Sealand for a while like robbers, stealing and killing and raping among the folk. Finally Svein rode thither with a troop, surrounded Asmund's house, and had him brought back in chains to Roskilde. There he was locked away for a while, it being the king's hope that this would make him repent.

  But no sooner was Asmund released than he broke every promise he had given and left. He gathered men and goods to outfit a longship, and in this he went as Viking both abroad and at home, sparing naught that came under his sword.

  Haakon Ivarsson had lain out summer and winter wit
h his ships. When he heard of heathen raiders, he attacked and slew those he could catch, and sometimes sought their own lands to punish them with fire and iron. But most of the time it was only a dreary lying at anchor, in rain and snow and paint-blistering sun, and his soul chafed. When he visited the king, he was always shown honor and given fine gifts, but it still seemed to him he was making little headway in the world; and often the image of Ragnhild Magnusdottir drifted through his thoughts.

  In the same summer that Harald Hardrede plundered across Fyen, Asmund Bjarnarson's ship came to Lolland, where he sacked and burned no few thorps. The yeoman and fishers looked at ash which had been their homes, buried stripped and bloody things which had been dear to them, and sent men to put their grievance before the king.

  Svein was in a black temper, the news from Fyen was a knife at his soul. . . . Dear God, how long must the land hold out? When could he lay his weary bones to rest? He looked at the hairy, rough-handed men who stood half afright to plead with him, and snapped:

  "Why do you come to me? Why go you not to Haakon Ivarsson? He's my chief of defenses down there, and it's his task to give you cotters peace and block off the Vikings." His lip lifted. "I've heard tell that Haakon is a valiant man; but now it seems he's fain to keep away from such places as danger may visit."

  When the commoners had gone, Svein sat for a while with his face buried in his hands. Thereafter he called for his chaplain, for it seemed he must have sinned in laying his own faults at another man's door.

  But his words were carried, with additions, to Haakon. The Norseman sat quiet during his meal, then said frostily: "Busk yourselves, my boys, we've got work to do."

  His ships slipped from the harbor, out into choppy seas under a long slant of rain. At Lolland he made inquiries and learned that Asmund had last been seen going northeast, toward Mon. The wind was strong and favoring; he crammed on sail recklessly and steered thither while his crews bailed out what waves broke over the sides.