The Saxons began in the neck of the Jutland peninsula. Like all Northland folk other than Finns, they speak a tongue the rest can understand. As their numbers waxed, they spilled forth until they had overrun realms from the Elbe to the Rhine—and Britain as well, along with their Anglic and Jutish kinsmen. A few clung to the old country.
One such kingdom was on the island of Als between Flensborg and Aabenraa Fjords. Its masters stemmed from both Odin and Frey, though they also had blood in them of the Wendish tribes who dwell eastward beyond Ironwood and talk like neither Danes nor Finns. Though doughty, they lacked great numbers of men and must plight faith and pay scot to the kings of Slesvik on the mainland.
The last of these royal underlings hight Sigmund. He married a daughter of his overlord Hunding. She bore him a girl-child they named Olof, but no sons who lived past her own early death. This led Sigmund to raise the girl rather like a boy, take her on hunts, teach her weapon-play, tell her of warlike doings, let her listen while he talked with men. She grew harsh and haughty, scorned womanly skills, sometimes even went about carrying shield and byrnie, sword at belt and helm on head.
Her father reached no high age either. When he died, her grandfather King Hunding of Slesvik feared a struggle for the seat which might lead to a breakaway from him. Therefore he pressed the Alsmen to take Olof for their queen. This was not wholly unheard of among Saxons; besides, the wiser chieftains agreed it was better than uproar. So it was done.
Later Hunding died and his realm fell into disorder. Cunningly playing sides off against each other, Queen Olof became able to do what she wanted. Taking a man was not among those things. She was reckoned the best match in the North—if only because this island was well-placed for war and trade—but every suitor she sent away, and not very politely either.
Her own folk did not like her much, finding her overbearing and niggardly. Still, she was not bad enough to rise up against, bearing in mind that she was the last of their royal house and hence surely under the ward of her forebears the gods.
Matters had stood thus for several years when Helgi's craft turned prows toward her kingdom.
He had learned that she spent her summers on the eastern shore of the island. There she kept a dwelling, less a hall than a lodge and some outbuildings, the Little Belt before it and miles of greenwood behind. It was a stead where she could hunt, which she loved, and seldom have to give outsiders food or gifts, which she cared Utile to do.
The house stood on a bluff looking widely over strand and water. Thus she reckoned on warning of ships in time to send after help or, at worst, flee down the road inland. Helgi lay to behind Lee Island across the Belt and waited for a fog. At that time of year he soon got it. The fleet crossed in single file, men stealthily rowing. Oft-times in that thick, dripping grayness, a steersman in the stern of one craft could not see the lookout in the bows of her follower. Ropes linked them. In the lead went the king. For pilot he had a fisherman who knew well every tide, current, skerry, and bight of these straits. They made landfall almost at their goal. Helgi sent warriors ashore and then cast anchor below the bluff
The fog lifted quite suddenly toward evening—and there were those lean hulls, ablink with mail and spears, while armored men loafed grinning around the edge of the woods. They made no threat; and the mast of the foremost ship had been raised to bear at its top the white shield which betokens peace. Yet the queen was boxed in and outnumbered beyond hope.
In stiff-faced calm she received the messengers. "Helgi Halfdansson, Dane-King, greets Olof Sigmundsdottir, Als-Queen, and will accept hospitality" was their word. She could only choose that which was safest, and bid him and his be her guests.
They clattered up the strand-path and into the yard, youths boisterous as a sea-wind, toplofty as eagles. Olof waited in her high seat. Sunset light turned golden the mane and downy beard of him who entered and hailed her. They stared hard across the shadows between them,
Helgi was taller than most of his tall following, wide-shouldered, deep-chested, narrow-hipped, craggy of nose, long of head and chin. Fire-blue eyes danced in a leather-brown face. He was roughly clad, and wetness still dripped off his kirtle and cloak; but golden rings wound their way up his thick forearms, and gold-inlaid was the haft of his sword.
Olof was rather short, though her form showed goodly within her gown and hunting had given her uncommon grace of movement. Her head was round, wide in the cheekbones, nostrils, and mouth; her eyes were big, the same deep brown as her coiled hair; all in all, she was well-favored, and not too many years older than Helgi. The look she gave him smoldered. She bade him welcome in a flat voice.
"I have heard so much of you," laughed he, "I could not but pay this call." Without waiting to be asked, he joined her in the high seat and told a servant to bring them drink.
"Do everything well," said Olof to her folk. "Let our guests lack naught."
To cook for such a big and unawaited company took time. Meanwhile beer and mead ran freely. The Danes jammed the lodge, clamored, grabbed at women, swaggered, boasted, and swilled. Helgi and Olof, side by side in the high seat, must nearly shout to hear each other. She let him do most of the talking—about himself—and he was nothing loth, the more so as he got drunker. She showed no outward unhappiness.
When at last they were eating, he said to her, "You must have guessed I came here for more than a feast. It's thus: I wish us to drink our bridal ale this evening."
She tautened. "You fare too swiftly, my lord."
"No, no." Helgi wagged a beef bone. "We've enough folk gathered here for a wedding. Great will be my honor and gain if I win as high-souled and, nm, useful a queen as you for my own. Later we can hallow it, and speak of dowries and morning gifts and whatnot else. But we'll he in one bed this night, you and me."
"If I must be wed," she answered, knuckles white over the handle of her knife, "then I know of no man who stands above you. I trust you'll not let me get shame out of this."
Helgi leered. "Indeed it's fitting that you, uppish as you behave—that we should live together long's I like."
"I could wish more of my friends were here," said Olof. "But your will be done. I'm sure you'll act in seemly wise toward me."
"Aye, aye, aye!" said Helgi slurrily. He hauled her to him, crushed her mouth against his and pawed across her in sight of everyone. Then he stood and bellowed forth the tidings.
The Danes roared their glee. The Saxons knew not what to do, save for those wenches who giggled in dark corners beside sailors. Queen Olof arose, as if her gown were not soiled and hair tumbled, and called: "Let this bridal be drunk in the best we have. Break out the wine!"
Southland traders bore some to these parts. It was little known elsewhere in the North. Helgi whooped at the taste. Olof smiled—in the flickering shadow-haunted light, it passed for a real smile—and plied him until far into the night.
None marked how she only pretended to match his huge draughts, save her trustiest men to whom she whispered to do likewise.
At last Helgi belched that they'd better put her to bed, else her wedding night would become a forenoon. Shouting, howling, bawling their bawdiest songs and jests, those Danes who could still walk took torches and escorted her across the courtyard to a bower where she slept. This is the Northland custom, that a bride be thus led in ahead of her groom. It is supposed to ward off evil beings, and the earthy words are to bring love and children. But for Olof waited no flowers and green boughs; nor had she been spoken for long beforehand, or had old friends around for this day out of her life, or been hallowed, or laid her maiden's garland down as an offering to Freyja.
The troop went back after Helgi. "In a while, in a while," he grunted. "You scuts won't finish this wine without me." The night was grizzled when he staggered away. Few were left hardy enough to come along.
These closed the door behind him, shouted their last randy good wishes, and lurched off to join the rest in slumber.
One dim lamp lit the room. "Whoof!" cried He
lgi, and fumbled at the queen. "Take off your clothes."
"Lie down," she murmured, guiding him, "and I will come to you."
He did. She slipped from sight, as if to make ready. Erelong she heard his snores.
Doubtless she stood a while, then, looking down upon him, turning a knife over and over in her fingers. No matter how drunk, though, his crews were too much for her few guards and carls. Furthermore, his killing would bring on a blood-feud with the mighty Skjoldungs. She had already decided what to do.
Some say she pricked a sleep-thorn into Helgi to keep him from waking. Others say that was not needful.
She slipped forth into chill dimness, under paling stars, and bespoke her men. They dared not bring out a horse; but among them was a fast runner. He started at once down the woodland roadway. Olof fetched what she wanted, and brought back a couple of men for help.
"Is this wise?" she heard asked.
Her head lifted. "I have my honor to think of," she said. "With shame shall shame be avenged."
They hogtied the king; they took scissors and razor, and cut all the hair off him; they smeared him everywhere with pitch; they stuffed him and a lot of rags into a leather sack, and tied it shut; and the men bore him down to the strand.
At dawn, on her orders, Olof’s carls roused the Danes —freely using bucketsful of cold water—and told them
Helgi had gone to the ships and wanted to sail off, since there was now an ebb tide and a fair wind.
They sprang up as fast as they could but, numb from drink, hardly knew what they were about. When they reached the shore, they saw their king nowhere. He would soon come, they thought muzzily. Meanwhile, here lay a fat leather sack. They got a wish to find out what it held.
When they undid the ties, there he lay, and in sorry shape. The sleep-thorn fell out of him, if it was ever in, and he awakened, not from any happy dream. He raved with rage.
Now they heard horns bray, feet and hoofs tramp, iron clang, voices call. Athwart the morning sky on the bluff-top stood a host of warriors against whom it was hopeless to go, especially in their wretchedness of headache and bowking. They crawled aboard ship and rowed off. They rowed very badly. The Saxon taunts followed them a long ways; and afterward the seagulls jeered.
III
Huge was the wonder, and wide flew the tale, that Queen Olof should have been able to mock a king like Helgi Halfdansson. The Alsmen looked awed upon her. That made her overbearingness and stubbornness wax beyond measure. Just the same, from then on she always kept a strong guard wherever she went.
As for him, he was in such a mood that none dared speak of the matter in his hearing, nor even let eyes linger on him. He took the fleet to Wendland as promised, where he went forward in a recklessness, slaughter, and burning that shook the toughest of the crew. They carried every battle, and in fall turned home laden with spoils and thralls. Helgi showed no gladness. Landing at Haven, he snapped a few orders as to unloading and care of the ships, took a horse, and galloped off alone.
The tale had reached Leidhra. When Helgi arrived, Hroar sought him in his house. They climbed into a loft-room to speak away from other ears. "I would have readied a welcoming feast for you," said the older brother mildly- "However, I thought this year you'd rather I didn't."
"I would not have come to it, forsooth," Helgi mumbled, glaring at the floor.
"You will outlive this thing," Hroar said.
Helgi flared: "It's a shame on us!"
"And who brought it?" Hroar answered, suddenly sharp-tongued. "Who deserved it?"
Helgi lifted a fist as if to strike him, then snarled and flung down the ladder and out of the house.
Through that winter he kept to himself as much as might be, was harsh toward underlings, curt and niggardly toward those of higher rank. Men whispered their fear that the blood of the dark-souled Skjoldungs was rising in him. After he began holding secret talks with those fighters who had ever been closest to him, many thought he must be plotting to do what Frodhi did.
But when gloom waned before daylight, snow melted in rushing streams, the storks and the swallows came home, Helgi grew calmer. His household knew he was busy readying something, though what it was, he told nobody save chosen men. One morning early in summer they were gone, and the king, and the speediest of his ships.
Mast raised, raven sail unfurled, she flew before a following wind. It skirled, cold and salt, kissed cheeks and tousled hair. Waves rumbled and gurgled, spindrift scudded above their wrinkled gray crests and blue-black troughs, sunbeams aslant through clouds struck green fire off them. The hull bounded, strakes sang, walrus-hide tackle thrummed, Helgi took the steering oar. While the land which was his rolled by him to starboard, he smiled, for the first time in almost a year.
When Mön lay aft, he had the dragon head of war set onto the prow.
Yet they fared carefully, that crew, sheering off from whatever other vessels they saw, camping nowhere. At the Little Belt they hove-to until dark, then rowed on north by moonlight
Ere dawn they reached the cove which their pilot had chosen for them. It lay several miles south of Olof’s lodge. Trees crowded a small beach. Helgi ordered the ship grounded. Her boat he put on watch at the mouth, lest a foe take them unawares and block their flight. Thereafter he slept a few hours. Those who stood guard ashore heard him chuckle in his dreams.
At sunrise he bolted some food and busked himself. He went clad in beggarly rags. Slung across his shoulders were a sword and two chests full of gold and silver.
The going is hard through a wildwood. Trees soar, oak, beech, elm, larch; their crowns rustle green-gold in sunlight that speckles the shadowiness beneath; birds sing in their thousands, squirrels streak up the boles like red fire; the air is warm and full of the smells of growth. But underbrush makes a wall, snagging feet, blocking breast, stabbing at eyes, scornfully crackling. It is not strange how often settlements are only reachable by sea.
Helgi was a huntsman. He found game trails and glided along them as readily as a deer. Soon he drew nigh his goal. In a hollow trunk he left his sword, under a bush he half hid his chests, and went onward. At the roadway, out of sight of the lodge, he waited.
A thrall of the queen's came by. He carried a basketful of eggs, bought for the household from a farmstead. At sight of the big man he drew back. Helgi smiled, spread empty hands, and said, "Have no fears. I'm homeless but harmless."
The thrall was not surprised. Gangrels were common, in these days when Slesvik suffered upheaval. As for reaching this island from there, that is the narrowest of channels. "How go things hereabouts?" the stranger asked him.
"Naught save peace," said the thrall, easing a bit "Whence do you hail?"
"No matter. I'm just a poor stave-carl. See here, though. I've stumbled on a hoard in these woods. Shall I show it to you?"
The thrall saw no reason why the wanderer should attack him. Besides, he bore a stout staff. He came along, and drew a shaken breath when he saw the glitter beneath leaves. "Great things indeed!" he said. "Who might have left that here? King Helgi, maybe, for some reason, before he sought our queen last year and she made a laughingstock of him?"
"I know not," said the gangrel roughly. "Tell me, is she greedy for gold?"
"In that wise, there's none like her."
"I'd heard the same. Well, then, she'll like this, and she's bound to claim it, here being her land. Now I don't want to turn my good luck into bad and try hiding a treasure. How could one like me grow rich overnight, and not be supposed a robber and strung up for crowbait? No, let her take it, and give me what part she sees fit; that's best. D'you think she'll trouble herself to come after the hoard?"
"That I do, if she can go unbeknownst save for a close-mouthed warrior or two."
"I was about to say that's how she'd better fare," nodded the wanderer. "If her find got noised abroad, the headmen of the kingdom would await feasts and gifts; and they tell me as how she's a chary one. But look here, I don't want anybody else about. Only y
ou and her. You can see I'm nothing to be afraid of." He stooped and reached. "Here's a jewel and a ring I'll bury offside and give you afterward, can you get her to come alone. Should she grow angry at you, I'll take care of that."
At first the thrall refused. Smooth swift-flowing talk turned his mind. He guessed the stranger knew of more gold elsewhere, and wanted to bargain about it under four eyes. So glib a tongue could surely turn the queen's wrath. And later he, the thrall, could give her those two costly things in payment for his freedom and a bit of a farm.
Thus he left the stave-carl on guard and himself hastened to the lodge, his heart thumping. He needed a while to get Olof aside, where he panted to her how he had found a mighty hoard, and asked her to follow him and lay hands on it, telling no one else lest envy of him make them spiteful.
Her rust-brown eyes weighed him. A flush crept over her broad-boned face. "If you're telling the truth," she answered, "this news will bring you luck. Otherwise it'll cost you your head. However, I've always found you faithful. I'll trust what you say."
She set a meeting after dark. At that time she arose, dressed, and sneaked from her bower. The watch was against a band or a fleet of foes. A single person, used to stalking game, went easily past. Beneath a moon-silvered oak stood the thrall. He guided her into the murk beyond.
The chests lay close to a small glade. Moonlight drifted between leaves and boughs to pick out the glint of metal —on a drawn sword in the hand of the man who stepped from night.
"Greeting, Queen Olof," laughed his hidden lips. "Do you remember Helgi Halfdansson?"
She shrieked, whirled, and started to run. In a long stride, he caught her. The thrall whimpered and struck at him with his staff. Helgi's blade knocked it aside. "I could slay you, fellow," said the king, as steadily as if the woman were not yelling, writhing, clawing, and kicking in his grasp. "But since we'll be gone before you can fetch help, my rede is that you flee elsewhere." The thrall gibbered. Helgi pointed downward with his sword. "There lies that which I promised you." The thrall was not too stunned to pick it up. Helgi poked swordpoint at him. "Go!" The thrall crashed off through the brush.
Hrolf Kraki's Saga Page 6
