Authors: Frans G. Bengtsson
“The wood is slippery, and my fingers cannot get a proper hold,” replied Toke mournfully, “for my hand is not as it should be.”
Orm had never heard him speak so heavily before. His sword-hand had been split at the joint of the third and fourth fingers, so that two of his fingers pointed one way and two the other.
“The loss of blood does not trouble me,” he said, “but this hand will be of little use for rowing tonight, and that is a bad thing, for we shall need to row hard if we are to get out of this bay before daybreak.”
He rinsed his hand in the water and turned toward the woman.
“You have helped me much already, my poor Mirah,” he said, “though it may be that I have done the greater share. Let me now see whether you can help me in this matter, also.”
The woman dried her tears and came to look at his hand. She wailed softly when she saw how grave the wound was, but none the less contrived to dress it skillfully. She said she would have been happier with wine to wash it in and cobwebs to lay upon it, but since these were not available she made do with water and grass and chewed bread. Then she bound it up tightly with bandages that she tore from her clothing.
“The most useless things can be turned to useful purposes,” said Orm. “And now we are both left-handed.”
It was evident from the way he spoke that his anger against Toke had been allayed.
Then they pulled away from the land with seven men at the oars and Toke minding the steering-oar, and the work of getting the ship out of the bay and round the point into the lee of the coast was the hardest that Orm had known since the days when he had toiled as a galley slave. He kept a spear in readiness at his side to kill the first prisoner who flagged; and when one of them caught a crab in the trough of a wave and was thrown on to his back, he was up on his bench and pulling again at his oar within the instant. The woman sat huddled at Toke’s feet, rolling her eyes in fear and wretchedness. Toke steadied her with his foot and bade her take up the baling-bucket and perform some useful service; but although she tried to obey him, her work was of no avail, and the ship was half submerged when they at last rounded the point and were able to set sail and bale.
For the rest of the night they were at the mercy of the storm. Orm himself took over the steering-oar, but all he could do was to keep the ship headed toward the northeast and hope that she would not be driven aground before day broke. None of them thought there was much hope of surviving such a tempest, which was worse than that which they had endured on their voyage to Ireland.
Then Rapp said: “We have five prisoners aboard, unarmed and in our power. It is doubtful whether they will be of any further use to us as rowers, but they may help us to calm the storm if we offer them to the sea people.”
Toke said that this seemed to him an excellent and proper suggestion, though he felt that they might begin by throwing one or two overboard, to see if that had any effect. But Orm said that they could not do this with any of the prisoners, because he had promised them their lives.
“If you want to give someone to the sea people,” he said to Toke, “I can only suggest that you offer them your woman. Indeed, I think it might turn out to the advantage of us all if we could rid ourselves of someone who has brought us so much ill luck.”
But Toke said that he would allow nothing of that sort to happen so long as he had breath in his body and one hand capable of wielding a sword.
So no more was said on that subject. As day dawned, a heavy rain began to fall and stood around them like smoke, and the storm began to lessen. When it became light, they could discern the coast of Halland ahead of them, and at last they succeeded in getting the ship into an inlet with her sail slit and her belly half full of water.
“These boards have carried me here from St. James’ tomb,” said Orm, “and now I have not far to go. But I shall come home without my necklace, and without the James bell, and little profit have I gained from giving them away.”
“You are bringing home a sword and a ship,” said Toke, “and I have a sword and a woman. And few of those who rowed forth with Krok have as much as that to show for their voyage.”
“We carry with us also a great king’s anger,” said Orm, “and worse than that can hang around no man’s neck.”
The hardships of their journey were now past. They set the five prisoners ashore and allowed them to depart in peace; then, after they had rested for a while and had put their ship and sail in order, they got good weather and sailed down the coast before a gentle breeze. Even the woman was now in good spirits and was able to help them with one thing and another, so that Orm found himself able to endure her presence better than before.
As evening fell, they drew in to the flat rocks that lay below Toste’s house, against which, when they had last seen the place, Krok’s ships had been gently rocking. They walked up the path toward the house, with Orm at their head. A short way from the water’s edge the path crossed a frothing stream, by means of a wooden bridge consisting of three planks.
Orm said: “Be careful of the one on the left. It is rotten.” Then he gazed at the plank and said: “It was rotten long before I left this place, and every time my father crossed this bridge he said that he would have it mended at once. Yet I see that it is still unmended, and still holds together, though it seems to me that I have long been parted from this place. If this bridge still stands, it may be that the old man, my father, has also survived the years that have passed.”
A little farther on they saw a stork’s nest in a high tree, with a stork standing upon it. Orm stopped and whistled, and the stork beat its wings and clattered its beak in reply.
“He remembers me,” said Orm. “It is the same stork; and it seems to me that it was but yesterday that he and I last spoke together.”
Then they passed through a barred gate. Orm said: “Shut the gate securely; for my mother gets angry if the sheep escape, and when she is out of temper our evening fare suffers.”
Dogs began to bark, and men appeared at the door and gaped at the three Vikings as they approached the house. Then a woman pushed her way through the knot of men and came toward them. It was Asa. She was pale, but apart from this looked as brisk and spry as when Orm had last seen her.
“Orm,” she said, and her voice trembled. Then she added: “God has heard my prayers at last.”
“His ears seem to be deafened with prayers nowadays,” said Orm. “But I never thought that you, of all people, would turn Christian.”
“I have been alone,” said Asa; “but now all is well.”
“Have your men sailed forth already?” asked Orm.
“I have no men left,” she said. “Odd stayed away the year after you left, and Toste died three years ago, in the year of the great cattle sickness. But I have managed to survive because I turned to the true religion; for then I knew that my prayers would be answered and that you would come back to me.”
“We have much to speak of,” said Orm, “but it would be good if we could eat first. These are my men; but the woman is foreign and is not mine.”
Asa said that Orm was now the master of the house and that all his friends were hers; so they entered, and were entertained like heroes. There were tears in her eyes as she carried to the table those dishes which she knew that Orm loved most dearly. They had many things to tell each other, and the telling of them covered many evenings; but no word was said of how Toke had won his woman, for Orm did not wish to temper his mother’s joy so soon after his return home. Asa took to Toke immediately and tended his wounded hand with great care and skill, so that it quickly began to mend; and she was fond and motherly toward Mirah, though they could talk but little together, and praised her beauty and black hair. She was disappointed that Orm and his men were not willing to thank God with her for their lucky return; but she was too overjoyed to take offense at their refusal, and said that Orm and the others would understand these things better when they were older and wiser.
At first Orm found such blitheness and gentleness somewhat strange in Asa, and it was six days before he heard her make one of her sharp-tongued sallies against the servant-maids and could feel that she was beginning to be herself again.
Orm and Toke were now friends again, though neither of them ever mentioned Ylva. As they described to Asa the adventures that had befallen them since Krok’s expedition had first rowed forth, Orm felt his old affection for Toke rekindle, and was eloquent in the latter’s praise; but whenever his thoughts turned to Ylva, his humor darkened, and then the sight of Toke and his woman gave him little joy. Mirah grew prettier every day, and laughed and sang the whole time, and she and Toke were so happy together that they had little time to notice other people’s troubles. Asa prophesied that they would have fine children, and Mirah, when this was explained to her, smiled and said they were doing all they could to ensure that this would be so. Asa observed that she must now begin to look for a wife for Orm, but Orm replied with a dark countenance that she could take her time about that.
As things now were, it was impracticable for Toke to proceed home by sea, at least as long as King Harald’s ships were at Skanör; so he decided to journey to Lister by land, with no company save that of his woman (for Rapp was remaining with Orm), and bought horses to carry them. Early one morning they took their leave, with many expressions of gratitude to Asa for her hospitality; and Orm accompanied them for a short distance to show them the right path for the Lister country.
“Here we must part,” said Orm, “and with all my heart I wish you a good journey. But it is not easy to be hopeful about the future, for King Harald will not rest until he has hunted you down, whithersoever you may flee.”
“I fear it is our fate to be unlucky with kings,” replied Toke, “though we are as meek-minded as other men. Almansur, King Sven, and now King Harald; we have made enemies of them all, and the man who brought our heads to any one of them would be well rewarded. None the less, I intend to hold on to mine.”
So they parted. Toke and Mirah rode eastwards and disappeared in the woods; and Orm rode back to the house to tell Asa of the danger that hung over them from King Harald’s wrath.
THAT spring many ships were timbered along the coasts of the northern countries, and keels were pitched which had long lain dry. Bays and sounds vomited forth navies, with kings and their wrath aboard; and when summer came, there was great unrest upon the seas.
Styrbjörn rowed early up through the Eastern Sea, with many ships and men from Jomsborg, Bornholm, and Skania. He put into Lake Mälaren and came at length to the plain before Uppsala, where he and King Erik joined battle. There he fell, in the first moments of the fight, and men say that he died laughing. For when he saw the battle array of the Swedes move forward, drawn up in the ancient manner behind horses’ heads borne high upon pikes, with King Erik seated in the midst of his army in an old sacred ox-chariot, he threw his head back in a wild frenzy of laughter. In the same instant a spear came between his beard and the rim of his shield and took him in the throat. When his followers saw this happen, their courage broke, and many of them fled there and then, so that King Erik won a great victory.
Then King Sven Forkbeard rowed down through the Danish islands with ships from Fyn and Jutland to take King Harald as the latter sat counting his herring tax at Skanör; for King Sven had at last lost patience at his father’s unwillingness to die. But King Harald fled to Bornholm and gathered his ships there, and sharp encounters were fought between these two until at length King Harald took refuge in his fortress at Jomsborg, sorely wounded. Then much of the Danish kingdom was split with strife, for some men held King Harald’s cause to be just and some King Sven’s; others preferred to fend for themselves and better their own fortunes while the land lay lawless under its warring kings.
But when the summer stood in its flower, King Erik of Uppsala came sailing southwards, with the greatest army that the Swedes had embarked in any man’s memory, driving before him the remnants of Styrbjörn’s fleet, which had been harrying his coasts and plundering his villages in revenge for their chieftain’s death. King Erik had a mind to punish both King Harald and King Sven for the aid they had lent to Styrbjörn, and many men thought it an unrewarding prospect to oppose the man who had conquered Styrbjörn and who was already being called “the Victorious.” He pursued King Sven to his islands and beyond to Jutland, leaving his own jarls to rule the places through which he passed. Soon the rumor spread that King Harald had died of his wounds at Joms-borg, a landless refugee, deserted by the luck that had hitherto favored all his enterprises; but the other two kings continued to war against each other. King Erik held the upper hand, but King Sven resisted him stubbornly. Men reported that the royal castle at Jellinge changed hands every few weeks, King Sven and King Erik taking it in turns to occupy King Harald’s old bedchamber; but it was generally agreed that King Sven was the more likely to have arrived first at his father’s treasure-chests.
But in Skania there were many chieftains who felt little inclined to involve themselves in this war of kings, thinking it better to let them settle their own differences, so that honest men might be left to occupy themselves with more profitable undertakings. One such was Thorkel the Tall, who had no desire to serve King Sven and was still less anxious to find himself a minor thane of King Erik. So he sent word to other thanes and chieftains that he had a mind to fare forth that summer to Frisia and England, if he could find sufficient good men willing to accompany him. Many thought this a good scheme, for Thorkel was an admired chieftain, and his luck was held to be excellent, ever since he had succeeded in escaping with his life from the battle at Jörundfjord. Masterless men of Styrbjörn’s army, who had managed to evade King Erik’s clutches, also came to join him, and before long he was lying at anchor in the Sound off the island of Hven with twenty-two ships; but he did not as yet reckon himself sufficiently strong to fare forth.