The Long Ships (65 page)

On their way home, they rode in to speak with Sone the Sharp-Sighted, for Orm had a request that he wished to make to him.

Sone’s house was large, with many rooms, and was everywhere full of his sons and their children. He himself, by this time, was immeasurably old and very frozen, and spent all his time sitting by the fire and mumbling to himself. Orm greeted him respectfully. After a few moments Sone recognized him, nodded amiably, asked him for news, and began to talk about his health. This was less good than it had been, but nothing to grumble about; and one good thing, he said, was that he still had his understanding left to him, in prime condition, so that it was still, as before, better than other men’s.

A crowd of his sons had come in to greet the visitors and listen to them. They were powerful men, and of all ages. When they heard their father speak of his understanding, they cried that the old man was talking nonsense; there was, they said, nothing left of his understanding, but only his tongue and chatter. Resenting this, Sone brandished his stick and quieted them.

“They are foolish boys,” he said to Orm. “They think that my understanding has been used up by begetting all of them, and that I have none left for myself. But that, as may easily be observed, is not the case; for little of it have they inherited from me. Sometimes it happens that I confuse their names, or forget one altogether, and that angers them, so that they talk ill of me. But the truth is that names are not a thing that it is important to remember.”

“I have come here partly to see you,” said Orm, “and partly to see your sons. I intend to sail forth shortly on a long voyage, to Gardarike, to claim an inheritance. I have already bought a ship. It may be that I shall need good fighting-men on this voyage. Now I have always heard your sons praised as bold men, and it therefore seemed to me that it would be a good thing if I could have some of them with me in my ship. I shall pay them honorably, and if all goes well, there may be silver to be shared out among such of us as survive the voyage.”

Sone became excited at this news. Better tidings he had not heard for many a day, he said, and he would be glad to send a flock of his sons to aid Orm. It was time that they went out into the world and learned wisdom and understanding. Besides which, he said, it would make things less crowded in the house.

“They are too many for me, now that I am old,” he said. “Take half of them with you, and it will be to the advantage of us both. Do not take the eldest ones, nor yet the youngest, but a half score of those between. They have never been in a ship, but will serve for fighting.”

Some of his sons were immediately willing to go; others pondered the matter and then agreed to come. They had heard tell how Orm had killed his two berserks, and thought him a chieftain after their liking. They conferred with Orm about the voyage late into the evening, and the end of it was that eleven of them agreed to come with him. They promised to be ready by midsummer, when Orm would come to collect them.

Toke thought this a good addition to their strength, for these men looked to him likely to render good service. Orm, too, was pleased, so that when they rode away on the following morning, his dejection had left him.

When they reached home, everyone came running out to meet them with sad news. Are was dead; his body had lately been fished up out of the river. Blackhair was the only person who had seen what had happened, and he had little to tell. He and Are had been sitting together fishing, and Are had been as usual, save that he had, once and then again, stroked Blackhair across his cheeks and hair. After a short while he had risen suddenly to his feet, made the sign of the cross thrice upon his breast, and had then strode forth into the river with bold steps until, reaching that part where the water was deepest, he had disappeared. He had not been seen again, and Blackhair had been unable to do anything to save him. It had been a long time before Rapp had found his body.

When the news of this had been brought to Asa, she had taken to her bed and prayed that she might die. Orm sat with her and comforted her as well as he could. Any man, he said, who had been treated as Are had been treated might be forgiven for wearying of life; and it was clear that he longed to escape from his wretchedness and seek peace with God, now that he had imparted to his kinsfolk his knowledge of the Bulgar gold.

“From God,” he said, “he will by now have received back his sight, his tongue, and his right hand; besides which, I doubt not, he has also found his son again. That is no small sum of things to win, and any wise man would have done the same.”

Asa agreed with his reasoning; none the less, she found his death a hard thing to endure, and it was three days before she was able to move about again. They buried Are beside the church, near the place where Father Willibald had interred the two heads that Östen of Öre had hewn from the holy men. Asa chose a place for herself next to Are, for she thought it would not be long before she would go to join him.

Toke now rode home to make preparations for the voyage, and shortly before midsummer he and Olof Summerbird arrived at Gröning with good men accompanying them. Olof had had much to do; he had given his two wives rich compensation and driven them out of his house, though one of them had been unwilling to go and had resisted stubbornly. There was, therefore, now no obstacle to his taking Ludmilla in honorable marriage, and when he appeared at Gröning he expressed his wish that the ceremony might be performed immediately. But Orm held to his decision, finding it foolish of Olof to think of marrying the girl before the voyage was completed.

“She is betrothed to you,” he said, “and with that you must rest satisfied. A newly married man is a poor comrade to have on a long voyage. We have shaken hands upon the bargain, and you must stand by our original agreement. First let us get the gold; then, when that is done, you shall have my daughter as reward for your good help. But it is, I think, nowhere customary to pay first and receive help afterwards.”

Olof Summerbird was a reasonable-minded man in all matters, and he could not deny that Orm had spoken wisely; he himself had no argument to advance but the great desire he felt for the girl, which was such that it was a source of merriment to them all. She could not come near him but his voice changed and he struggled hard for breath; he said himself that such a thing had never happened to him before. Ludmilla was as eager as he was that the marriage should take place as soon as possible, but knew that Orm was not to be persuaded from his original decision. Olof and she agreed, however, that there was no reason for them to be downhearted, seeing that they felt the same toward each other.

Before his departure Orm made careful plans to arrange how everything should be in the house during his absence. Rapp was to remain at home and be in charge of everything, though up to the last moment he grumbled in the hope that Orm might change his mind and allow him to go with the others. Orm saw to it that he had sufficient men left with him to do the work and protect the house. Ylva was to see to the house itself and all that went on inside it, and nothing important was to be done without her consent. Harald was to remain at home, for Orm was unwilling to risk his first-born on so dangerous a voyage, and Harald himself showed no particular desire to go; but Glad Ulf was allowed to come with them and, at length, Blackhair also, after he had besought Orm and Ylva with many prayers. The obstinacy of his desire to go drove Ylva more than once to weep tears of grief and rage. She asked him what he thought a thirteen-year-old boy could do in a company of full-grown fighting-men; but he said that if he was not permitted to sail in this ship, he would run away and join another, and Glad Ulf promised to take better care of Black-hair than of himself. That, thought Blackhair, was not necessary; however, he promised always to be careful, though he said that he fully intended to do his worst to men who robbed honest people of their eyes, if he should happen to encounter any of them. He now had both a sword and a spear, and regarded himself as a fully-fledged warrior. Orm was pleased at the prospect of having him with him, though he did not allow Ylva to know this.

Father Willibald preached a great sermon about people going down to the sea in ships, and blessed them all with a lengthy blessing. Toke and Olof Summerbird and the heathen men they had brought with them sat and listened to the sermon with the others and agreed that they all felt hugely strengthened after the blessing. Many of them after the service went to the priest and, drawing their swords, asked for a blessing on them also.

When the time came for their departure, the women wept loudly, and among those who were going away there were not a few who felt grief. But most of them were glad at the prospect of adventure and promised to bring fine things home with them when they returned; and Orm felt well contented to be riding at the head of so proud a company.

They came to Sone the Sharp-Sighted to collect his sons, who speedily made themselves ready. The old man was sitting on a bench against the house wall, warming himself in the sun. He ordered his sons, the eleven who were leaving him, to come to him one by one, that he might bid them each farewell. They did so, and he gazed earnestly at them, mumbling their names and addressing each one correctly without exception. When the last of them had saluted him, he sat silent, staring straight before him; then a tremor ran through his limbs, and he laid his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. At this his sons shifted their feet and murmured uneasily: “Now he sees! He sees!” After a while he opened his eyes again and looked around with an absent expression, as though he had just awakened from a long sleep. Then he blinked, moistened his lips, nodded to his sons, and said that they might now start on their voyage.

“What did you see?” they asked.

“Your fate,” he answered.

“Shall we come back?” they all cried eagerly.

“Seven shall come back.”

“But the four others?”

“They shall remain where they shall remain.”

All the eleven crowded round him, begging him to say which of them would not return.

“If four of us are doomed to die out there, it is best that those four should stay at home, so that no harm may come to them.”

But the old man smiled sadly.

“Now you talk foolishly,” he said, “as you often do. I have seen the web that the Spinners are spinning, and for four of you there is but a short time left. Their thread no man can lengthen. Four of you must die, whether they go or stay; which four will be revealed to you in good time.”

He shook his head and sat buried in thought. Then he said: “It is no joy for a man to see the Spinners’ fingers, and few are they who see them. But I am granted that vision, though I would gladly not see it. But the faces of the Spinners I have never seen.”

Again he sat silent. Then he looked at his sons and nodded.

“Go now,” he said. “Seven of you will return. That is enough for you to know.”

His sons protested no longer, for it was as though a shyness had come over them in the old man’s presence; and so it was also with Orm and all his following. But as they rode away, the sons continued for some time to mutter bitterly against the old man and the strangeness of his ways.

“I should have liked to ask him how I would fare,” said Toke, “but I dared not.”

“I had the same thought,” said Olof Summerbird, “but I, too, lacked the courage.”

“It may be that his words were but empty talk,” said Orm, “though it is true that the old woman at Gröning, too, sometimes sees what is to be.”

“Only a man who does not know him could think his words empty talk,” said one of Sone’s sons who was riding beside them. “It will happen as he has foretold, for so it has always been. But by telling us this he has made it worse for us than he knows.”

“I think he is wiser than most men,” said Toke. “But is it not a comfort to you all to know that seven of you will return safe and sound?”

“Seven,” replied the other darkly, “but which seven? Now we brothers cannot have a merry moment until four of us are dead.”

“So much the merrier will that moment be,” said Orm; at which Sone’s sons grunted doubtfully.

When they had reached the ship and sent their horses home, Orm straightway set his men to repaint the dragon-head; for if their ship was to enjoy good luck, it was necessary that its dragon-head should gleam as redly as blood. They carried everything aboard, and each man took his place. At first Orm was unwilling to sacrifice a goat for luck on the voyage; but in this everyone opposed him, so that at last he yielded.

“You may be as Christian as you will,” said Toke, “but at sea the old customs are still the best; and if you do not comply with them, you may as well jump headfirst into the sea where the water is deepest.”

Orm agreed that there might be some truth in this, though he found it hard that the price of a goat should now be added to all that he had had to pay out for this voyage before it had yet begun.

At last all was ready; and as soon as the goat’s blood had streamed down the bows, they sailed out in fine weather with a good favorable wind. Ever since his boyhood Toke had known the waters as far east as Gotland, and he had undertaken to pilot the ship until they reached the Gotland Vi. Beyond, few knew how the waters ran; but they reckoned to be able to hire a pilot there to help them, for there were many pilots in Gotland.

Orm and Toke were both happy to be at sea again; it was as though many of the burdens that oppressed them ashore had suddenly fallen from them. When they sighted the coast of Lister in the distance, Toke said that the life of a skin-trader was, in truth, a hard one, but that now he felt once more as light of heart as when he had first sailed forth with Krok.

“I cannot understand why I have kept away from the sea for so long,” he said, “for a well-manned ship is the best of all things. It is good to sit contented ashore, and no man need be ashamed to do so; but a voyage to a far land, with booty awaiting a man and this smell in his nostrils, is as good a lot as could be desired, and a sure cure for age and sorrow. It is strange that we Northmen, who know this and are more skillful seamen than other men, sit at home as much as we do, when we have the whole world to plunder.”