TLV - 01 - The Golden Horn

by Poul Anderson

  "You have not been overly generous with your gold," said Svein. He had been drinking heavily, and his face was flushed.

  "It is mine," said Harald. "I'll need it later."

  "Well, well." Svein seemed to regret his remark. "So be it. What of all you own do you consider the most valuable?"

  Harald thought of Ellisif, waiting in the warship with their child in her arms. "My banner Land-waster," he said after a moment.

  "So?" Svein's nose thrust forward curiously. "What is so valuable about it?"

  Harald measured him, thinking that haughtiness might provoke him into showing somewhat of his secretive mind. "Because men say that he has the victory who bears it before him, and this I've found to be true as long as I've owned it."

  Svein emptied his horn. His voice was a little thick, and he said sneeringly: "I'll believe that if you bear it in three battles with King Magnus, your kinsman, and win them all."

  Anger jumped within Harald. "I've not forgotten my kinship to him, without your reminding me," he said, "and even if we bear a war shield against each other now, it doesn't mean that we should not long ago have met in more seemly fashion."

  Svein whitened and answered with a harsh tone: "There are those who say, Harald, that erenow you've only held to that part of a bargain you thought would best serve yourself."

  Harald stood up, his shadow swallowing the other man, and said like a spitting cat: "You've less ground to reproach my breaking agreements, than King Magnus has to speak of your broken oaths to him."

  He turned on his heel and walked out of the hall and down to the shore. As he was rowed to his ship, he thought coldly that matters were finally coming into the open.

  Ulf helped him aboard. The fleet was shadowy under the stars; waves lapped on the hull and dew was already cold on the planks. A candle inside a holder of thin-scraped horn threw the Icelander's face into guttering highlights. "You look wrathful," he said.

  "I am," Harold told him. "But we'll see. I'll not sleep in my usual place tonight, for it seems there may be treachery abroad. I saw that my friend Svein was embittered at the free speech I used. Keep watch tonight and tell me if aught happens. But make no needless outcry."

  He roused Elizabeth, where she lay in the bed he had rigged in the bows, and brought her and the baby aft; in his own spot he placed a billet of firewood. The sail was stretched across the lowered mast for an awning, and the men grumbled themselves to sleep.

  Elizabeth shivered in the sleeping bag Harald had given her. Night air seeped under the sail, chill and damp; muttering waves, creaking anchor cables, snoring men made the only sounds. "I am afraid," she whispered. "We should not have brought the little one with us."

  "Safer here than elsewhere," Harald replied.

  "Go to sleep."

  He lay for a while, thinking mostly that his wife was not meant for the sea. It was not only the sickness; she could hardly get down the salt food, and was pitifully shamed by her own necessities even though two serving maids held a blanket before her. Well, let her stay behind in Norway, then. He rolled over, weary with a long day's work, and drifted into darkness.

  It was not usual to keep a watch when a whole fleet lay at anchor. Ulf crawled between cursing men some hours later and shook Harald awake.

  "Well?"

  "I heard a boat come alongside our prow," said the Icelander. "The man in it lifted the awning, struck with an ax, and rowed off with some great haste." He regarded the other closely. "From the way you spoke to me earlier, I thought I'd best let him go. Was he a man of yours?"

  Without answering, Harald slipped from the bag and went to his bed. An ax stood in the log he had put there. He nodded and told Ulf to rouse the men without noise, while he kindled a torch. When the sail was rolled up, he stood forth and pointed to the weapon.

  "Svein Estridhsson has ordered this," he said. At their quickburst of oaths: "No, be still! We're too few to fight him when he thus brings treachery against us. Best we get away while yet we can. Take the ship's boat, go wake the crews of other craft, and let's be off in silence."

  Ulf's face never stirred.

  Halldor said dryly: "You've given Svein some cause to distrust you."

  "Hardly to murder me by stealth," said Harald coldly. "I meant to do what was best—make peace with Magnus, aye, but see if peace could not also be made with Svein. He could have had his old rank of jarl back. Now I'll hunt that fox to his death."

  "Would you have agreed to the mere name of jarl?"

  "I am born a king. Svein is not. Enough. Let's make ready."

  Slowly, moving their oars with care, Harald's ships left the fleet. Once or twice they were hailed, but none of the Danes thought anything was amiss. By morning they were out of sight of land.

  3

  King Magnus lay on the shore near Konungahella, where Norway ran against the Danish possession Halland and Swedish West Gotland. The tents of his army were spread wide across the hills and down to the strand, bright with fluttering flags, and when his ships had learned who was approaching, horns blew loud in welcome. Magnus took Harald's hand, smiling.

  "It's good that we are to be friends, kinsman," he said.

  "The man who gave Denmark to Svein should be a worthy warrior," muttered Eindridhi Einarsson sourly.

  "Let there be no talk of what's past," said Magnus at once.

  "As for that affair ..." Harald was in too good a temper to resent much what had been spoken. "Svein holds his seat with trouble, and what I did has weakened the land and made the Danes wonder what's to gain from supporting him."

  "Come, let us talk alone." Magnus led his uncle to his tent, and they spoke long together. The young king was clearly anxious to have the older man's good will, and Harald for his part was glad the strife had ended. Quarrels would arise later, he foresaw, but for now let him have a moment's peace.

  The next day Magnus gave a lavish feast. In the afternoon, when men were boisterous with ale, he came into the tent followed by carles who had bundles of fine clothing, weapons and gold. He gave each man a gift, but when he came to Harald he held forth only two stirring sticks. "Which of these do you choose, kinsman?" he asked.

  "The nearest," said Harald.

  Magnus reddened, gave it to him and said loudly: "With this stick you now take half Norway, with scot and duties and all domains, so that everywhere you shall be king with the same rights as I. But when we are together, I shall be the first greeted and seated; and if there are three kings, I shall sit in the middle, and shall have right to the king's place in harbor and camp. You shall support and strengthen us, in exchange for our having today given you that place in Norway we had never thought any man should take while our head was above ground."

  Harald thought his words somewhat high-flown, but stood up and thanked him in a courteous speech. They were merry together for the rest of the day, and it was good to see the pleasure in Ellisif’s eyes when she spied them arm in arm.

  Harald remained on shipboard that night. The next morning Magnus let the lur horns blow a summons to a Thing, and when the men gathered, he told them what he had done and made it lawful. Thori of Steig trod forth and gave Harald the name of king before all.

  Thereafter Harald held a feast in the tent he had set up for himself. Toward evening, he had the ships which bore his wealth unloaded, and the cargo brought in and gifts given to everyone. When the caskets were opened, he said to Magnus:

  "'Yesterday you gave us a great kingdom, which you had won in battle from our common foes, and set me by your side. That was well done, for we know what it has cost you in strife and work. As for us, we have been in foreign lands, and have also been in danger of our lives from time to time, ere I won that gold I am now going to show you. That will I now divide with you; for just as we have Norway's kingdom together, so shall all movable goods be divided between us. I know how different we are, you are more generous than I; therefore we shall each have half, and you can do with your share what you will."

  An oxhide h
ad been spread, and over this was now poured gold and silver. Such a heap had never before been seen in the North. Scales and weights were fetched, and the dividing began. When an ingot the size of a man's head appeared, Harald lifted it—no mean feat of strength—and asked gleefully: "Where have you the gold, kinsman Magnus, you can set against this?"

  Magnus' cheer drooped a little. He answered slowly: "There has been so much unrest and so many great wars, that it's cost me nigh all the gold and silver I once had. I have only this ring left." He took it off his wrist and passed it to Harald, who studied it for a moment and then said:

  "Aye, that isn't much gold, friend, for the king who owns two realms; and yet there might be some who doubt that even this is yours."

  Magnus colored, but said: "If I don't rightfully own this ring, then I can't say what fs mine by right; for my father King Olaf the Saint gave it to me the last time we parted."

  Harald laughed to see him so easily baited. "It's true what you say, King Magnus, that you had it from your father. My mother has told me of a ring made just this way. He took it from my father for some trifling cause; and, indeed, that was not a good time for small kings, when your father had his full power."

  Magnus took the ring back and slipped it on his arm and began talking loudly and gaily as if to cover the brief clash.

  Harald took from his share a birchwood bowl with gilt silver rim and handles, filled with silver monies, and gave it to Thori—likewise two heavy gold rings, and his own cloak, dark purple and lined with ermine. "This is yours for your help," he said, "and moreover you shall have my friendship and great dignities."

  The young man turned red with pleasure. Harald clapped him on the shoulder and looked around the tent, at gloating men and ruddy gold. He went to Elizabeth, where she stood shyly in a corner, and lowered his head to her ear.

  "Does this show you what I was striving for?" he whispered. "Do you think it was worth everything I had to do?"

  "Yes, my darling," she answered as low. He could not tell if she meant it, or if she had even understood him. Maria Skleraina would have done so.

  He straightened. Naught on earth would ever again take from him what he held dear, now that he was a king.