by Speer, Flora
Gunhilde’s cold tone cut her off. “For once I agree with Freydis. If you do not wish to recognize Erik as your brother, Snorri, then he remains your guest. I know you could kill him easily” – here Snorri smirked with pleasure, as Gunhilde continued -“but it would be bad luck for you to kill a guest while we celebrate your elevation to chieftain. Kill him later if you wish, but not tonight. Besides, you have something more important to do right now. It is time to announce your sister’s marriage.”
“So soon? So soon?” The murmur rippled around the room. Freydis sat like a statue, her face marble-pale.
“Yes, yes,” Snorri said, raising his drinking horn. “I nearly forgot. We are arranging my sister Freydis’ marriage to Gunhilde’s cousin Kare. It is an excellent match. Kare is related to the king. That will be good for us, will it not, men?”
There was a cheer at this suggestion of royal favors to come, but it was not so hearty as Snorri might have wished, perhaps because the present king was not accepted by all the jarls, and his position was so insecure that he could not be depended upon to distribute largess to his relatives. Nevertheless Snorri continued boldly, setting out his plans for Freydis.
“Kare is coming to visit in the late spring, once the planting is completed. The wedding will take place then, although it might have been more appropriate just before the planting. Then Kare could plow his field and sow his seed with the rest of us.”
Now there was boisterous laughter, followed by more ribald jokes. In the midst of the noise, Freydis rose and walked slowly across the room to face Snorri and Gunhilde.
“I do not wish to marry,” Freydis said, loud and clear, so all could hear her. The revelers quieted again at this unexpected diversion.
“Why?” Snorri laughed, caught up in the bawdy mood of his men. “Has Kare’s row already been planted? By Halfdan, perhaps?”
Lenora caught at Erik’s arm as he began to rise. It took all her strength to pull him back into his seat. She was helped by a tall man standing behind Erik, who put both hands on Erik’s shoulders and pushed down hard. Erik looked around in surprise, then relaxed when he saw the man’s face.
Snorri was addressing Freydis again. “I have chosen Kare for you. You are fortunate that he wants you.”
“You mean Gunhilde has chosen Kare.” Freydis’ dark blue eyes regarded the pair on the settle with contempt. “I was never consulted about this match. I have repeatedly said that I do not wish to marry.”
“What you wish,” Gunhilde sneered, “is to marry Halfdan. But Halfdan will never marry his blood-brother’s sister.”
Freydis winced, then quickly recovered her composure.
“I do not wish to marry,” she repeated a third time, making it official. “I am a free woman. I am not obligated to marry anyone. You cannot force me to do so.”
“You will marry Kare or you will go out into the world alone,” Snorri declared. “I will banish you from my home.”
“Then do so, but I will not marry Kare.”
Lenora felt pure admiration for Freydis. Tall and big-boned and strong Freydis might be, but she looked frail and very lonely as she stood before Snorri and his wife. Lenora knew how much Freydis loved Thorkellshavn, and from her own experience she had some idea how hard it would be for Freydis to leave her home. When Erik, shaking off the restraining hand of the man who still stood behind him, rose from his seat and went to stand beside his sister, Lenora followed him.
“Freydis is right,” Erik said. “There is no law that says she must marry your choice for her. And until she marries, this is her home. You cannot put her out.”
“Have you become a law-speaker in my absence? How dare you tell me what I cannot do, you Frankish bastard? I tell you that unless Freydis agrees to marry Kare, she must leave my home by midday tomorrow. As for you, you sniveling, Greek-soft cripple, you have no place here. The sooner you go, the better.”
“Then I will leave with Freydis tomorrow.”
“I’ll be well rid of you,” Snorri declared. “Get out and take your whore-sister with you!”
In his determination to avoid physical conflict with Snorri, Erik might have tolerated endless insults directed at himself, but the crude term applied to Freydis goaded him beyond self-control. Suddenly his sword was in his hand. He took a purposeful step toward Snorri. Lenora saw other blades flash as men readied themselves for the bloodshed all must have believed would come within moments.
There was a sound behind her. Lenora spun around, her nerves on edge. She found three tall Vikings standing close to her. The tallest of them was the man who had helped her to hold Erik in his seat. These three were among the men who had not sworn loyalty to Snorri.
“Snorri,” called out this man, stepping casually between Erik and his half-brother.
“Ingvar the Bold,” Snorri exclaimed. “Well, what is it?”
“Asmund and Olrik and I were members of Thorkell’s hird. We served him and protected him faithfully. For many years we slept in his hall.”
“I know that. What of it? Do you want some reward for your service to my father before you join me?”
“We ask as our reward only a promise, Snorri. We want your word as a chieftain.”
“Tell me what promise you expect me to make.”
“Give us your word that you will send no one to harm Erik or Freydis or any other member of their party for five days. In turn we will escort them away from Thorkellshavn.”
“And in six days,” Snorri jeered at Ingvar, “Erik will return with an army to destroy us. No, I will not do it.”
Ingvar held up his hand to stop the angry flow of Snorri’s words.
“We ask a promise of Erik also, and for the same reason we ask one of you. We loved and respected Thorkell. We do not want to see his sons kill each other. We want children and grandchildren of Thorkell’s to live and remember his name and his reputation. Erik,” Ingvar turned to the dark man who stood beside Freydis, “will you swear to leave Denmark at the earliest opportunity, and not to take up arms against Snorri until you do?” Then Ingvar added in a low voice, “For I think now Thorkell is dead you mean to return to Miklagard if you can. That long distance will keep you safe from Snorri, and him safe from you.”
Erik and the tall Viking locked eyes for a long, tense moment. Finally, Erik sheathed his sword and turned back to face Snorri.
“I swear,” Erik declared, his firm voice carrying clearly throughout the hall, “that until I leave Denmark I will not use my weapons against Snorri or his men, unless I or my companions are attacked first. I have the right to defend myself and my friends.”
Ingvar nodded approvingly at this speech. “That is fair. Snorri, will you agree?”
Snorri laughed his nasal, unpleasant laugh. “I was right about you,” he said to Erik. “The Greeks have addled your wits. Any true Norseman would stand and fight.” He surveyed the group standing before him.
“You are all traitors to me,” Snorri added. “I should kill every one of you for your disloyalty. But, as Gunhilde has said, this is a joyous occasion. For Thorkell’s memory, let there be no bloodshed this night. Be gone, all of you, by midday, when Freydis must leave. And you three, Ingvar, Asmund, and Olrik, do not return here. If ever I see you again, I will kill you.”
They walked from a silent hall into the cold night.
“I must pack my belongings,” Freydis said. “Lenora, find Tola and send her to me. She will go with us.”
“Pack as little as possible,” Erik said when Lenora had joined him in his house. “We will leave as soon as we can, arid travel quickly. I don’t trust Snorri. I’m sure you noticed, he seemed to agree with Ingvar, but he never swore to give us those five days.”
“Where are we going?” Lenora asked as she folded Erik’s clothes into his saddlebags. “Will we go to Halfdan’s home?”
“You are going nowhere,” Erik replied. “You would only slow us down.”
“You told me this afternoon that I am safest as your slave, with yo
u.” With a furious gesture, Lenora threw onto the bed the shirt she had been holding. “I will not remain here without you. I know too well what Snorri will do to me once your protection is removed. I will go with you, or I will follow Edwina.” Her voice cracked on the last word. She had not mentioned Edwina by name since the night of Thorkell’s funeral and it was hard to do so now, but she was close to panic from fear of Snorri.
“You have been ill recently, and you are still weak,” Erik said, looking at her with a critical gaze. “It would be a difficult journey for you.”
“Not as difficult as staying here.” Lenora’s chin lifted with just a touch of defiance. “I am growing stronger every day. If Tola can go with you, so can I.”
Still he hesitated.
“You told Freydis you wanted to depart as soon as possible,” she reminded him. “Yet you are delaying.”
His hand reached out to catch a chestnut curl that lay against her cheek. As though it had a life of its own, it curved about his fingers. He gave it a playful tug.
“Wench,” he said softly, “what am I to do with you? Nothing has been the same since Thorkell gave you to me. Sometimes I wonder which of us is the slave.”
“Take me with you,” she begged, pressing her advantage. “Don’t leave me to Snorri.”
He spoke almost under his breath, as though he was thinking aloud.
“If you did not want to come, I think I would drag you along with me. I only hope you are strong enough, my sweet.” Then, louder, he said, “Very well.”
Having made up his mind, he at once became efficient, rapping out orders.
“Finish what you are doing, then pack a few things for yourself. Not too much, and do it quickly. Use the other saddlebag.”
“Where are we going?” Lenora asked again, trying not to let her feelings show, although she was limp with relief.
“We go first to Hedeby. It is the safest place for us. I will send Olrik north to intercept Halfdan and tell him to join us there. He will bring with him some of my silver. Halfdan, Ingvar, and Asmund will take you and Freydis and Tola back to his father at Limfjord. There you will be safe from Snorri.”
“What will you do?”
“As Ingvar guessed, I will return to Miklagard.”
“Take me with you.” He frowned at this suggestion.
“I have already agreed to take you away from Thorkellshavn. I cannot take you to Miklagard. It is too far, and the way is too dangerous.”
“Are there no women in the lands you will travel through?”
“Of course there are.”
“Then I can go too.”
With an annoyed expression, he handed her cloak to her.
“I will hear no more argument,” he said in a stern voice. “You are not going to Miklagard.”
Part Three
The Varangian Way
Denmark to Constantinople
March to September, A.D. 868
Chapter 15
Long before the sun had risen they left Thorkellshavn. Olrik rode north to find Halfdan. The others crowded themselves and their few possessions into a small boat Ingvar had stolen.
“Quiet,” Erik warned as a cloth-wrapped bundle thudded into the boat’s hold. “We don’t want anyone following us.”
“There is nothing to fear from them,” Tola said. “Erna told me they all drank themselves to sleep last night. They won’t wake up until the day is half over.”
“I hope you are right,” Erik replied. “And I hope you spent more time packing food than gossiping with Erna.”
With Erik at the tiller and Ingvar and Asmund rowing, they made their stealthy way downriver to the sea. Then, as the sky brightened with the dawn, they raised the sail and headed southward.
It was a rough passage. The fierce west wind whipped at them, blowing water into the boat and threatening to drive them aground on sandbars or on one of the many islands that fringed the western coast of Denmark. Occasional blasts of snow or sleet stung their faces.
Lenora thought they would all freeze to death. In spite of their discomfort, she had the distinct impression that the men were enjoying themselves. They handled the little boat with skill born of years of practice. They laughed in sheer physical exhilaration as they sailed past rocks and shoals with a breathtakingly narrow margin of safety.
Even Freydis looked happier than she had for some time. She handed Lenora a wooden bucket and they bailed water out of the hold until their hands were red and numb.
“We should have gone by land,” Tola grumbled. “And we should have gone directly north to Limfjord instead of stopping at Hedeby first.”
“Be quiet, woman,” Freydis ordered. “Erik knows what he is doing. Keep bailing.”
They were all soaked and half-frozen before they finally sailed into the estuary of a broad river. Now they traveled eastward, after a time moving into a smaller tributary river where they dropped the sail. Ingvar and Asmund picked up the oars again and began rowing.
It seemed an eternity to Lenora before they landed at the edge of a village that sat on a low slope above the marshy river valley. Small wattle-and-daub houses clustered together, overshadowed by ships of all sizes moored at the river’s edge.
“They come here from the lands to the west.” Freydis had seen her gaping. “They are unloaded here and their cargo is carried overland to Hedeby. It is safer than making the long trip north around the tip of Denmark, then south to Hedeby. There are pirates and treacherous tides and shoals in the waters north of here.”
“How far is it to Hedeby?”
“Only half a day’s ride. Erik will find horses for us in the morning.”
They pulled their boat out of the water a short distance from the village and laid it on its side, propping it up with the oars. They built a fire and huddled together in the shelter provided by the boat’s hull. Their evening meal was flatbread and dried meats and fruits, washed down with ale. Lenora slept in the curve of Erik’s arm, covered with his damp fur cloak.
The next day they traded the little boat and some silver coins from Erik’s purse for three horses. They paused to eat their morning meal before setting out for Hedeby.
“No sign of Snorri yet,” Erik remarked. “Let’s hope our luck continues.”
“He will follow us,” Ingvar said. “I know Snorri too well. You will keep your word, Erik, but Snorri will not keep his. He will claim he never gave you those five days’ start, though his words made it appear he had agreed to my suggestion. He is not to be trusted. He will make a poor chieftain. His people will not fare well.”
Lenora did not want to think about Snorri and what would happen if he caught them. She tried to change the subject.
“What will you do after we reach Hedeby?” she asked Ingvar.
“We will remain with Erik so long as he needs us. Afterward we will find another chieftain to serve.”
“You could take service with Halfdan’s father,” Erik suggested. “Another good sword arm is always welcome to guard Limfjord.”
“Perhaps we’ll do that.”
They headed east, riding double, a woman behind each man. They rode with a wide earthen rampart on their right side. It was topped by a wooden palisade that towered a good three hand-spans above Lenora’s head. The fortification stretched behind them to the river’s edge, while before them it reached to Hedeby itself.
“That is the Danevirke. It was built to keep out the Slavs and the Franks,” Erik told her.
They entered Hedeby by the western gate, crossing a wooden bridge over a wide ditch and then passing through a plank-lined opening in the town’s protective earth wall. They continued along a street paved with heavy wooden planks, past wood houses with thatched roofs. Barns, stables, warehouses, and workshops were all jumbled closely together and seething with busy commercial life.
Erik had told Lenora about Hedeby and the goods that were brought there to be traded. The town faced Hadeby Noor, a lake at the end of a long, winding fjord, which provided protection
from invasion or from the pirates who lurked in the Baltic Sea. On the landward side of the town an old Roman road ran north to Limfjord and south across the border into Frankland.
Hedeby sat at the crossroads of two great trade routes. Leather, skins for making parchment or vellum for book-bindings, soapstone bowls and cups from Norway, beeswax for candles and bronze casting, honey, cattle, smoked and salted meats, dairy products, furs of fox and seal and bear, antlers or walrus tusks for combs and pins and chess-pieces, whalebone, sea salt and grain, soft down and feathers for pillows and quilts, and amber, called sea-gold and prized by the Greeks and Romans, all came to Hedeby from the northern countries.
From the south and west came olive oil and slaves, marten furs and gold jewelry from Ireland, and soft, deep blue wool from Frisia. Millstones for grinding grain into flour, fine glassware and sword-blades, and wine came from the Rhineland. The black slaves whom the Norsemen called “blue men” were brought by ship from the faraway lands across the Middle Sea. From the east came sable furs and Slavic slaves.
From the greatest distance of all, along the trade route that went east across the Baltic Sea then south through the land of the Rus to Constantinople and Baghdad and beyond Baghdad to the very ends of the earth, along this Varangian Way came gold and spices, silks and other rare textiles, Arab silver, finely wrought jewelry and enamels, pottery, and the occasional small statue of some foreign god. Also along this way came a few adventurous Arab traders. From time to time they were to be seen in the streets of Hedeby, small, dark men with carefully trimmed black beards, wearing long, flowing robes and wrapped headdresses called turbans.
To Lenora, Hedeby was a magical place, overcrowded and noisy and exciting, but Erik was concerned at the lack of activity and the small number of merchants he saw.
“It is too early in the season,” he said. “Another two cycles of the moon will bring more merchants. Then there are twice as many people here and more ships than you can count drawn up at the edge of Hadeby Noor. All summer long the trading continues, until the merchants sail home again in the autumn. Then it is easy to find passage on a knarr traveling east. At this time of year it will be difficult.”
