The Long Ships (67 page)

The Gotland chieftains asked Orm who he was, whither he was heading, and what cargo he had aboard.

“I am no merchant,” replied Orm. “I am going to Kiev to claim an inheritance.”

“It must be a great inheritance if it is worth the labor of such a voyage,” said the Gothlanders skeptically. “But if it is plunder you seek, seek it from others, for we always travel well prepared.”

With that the ships passed on and grew small down the river.

“That woman was not contemptible,” said Toke thoughtfully. “By her breasts, I adjudge her to be twenty at the most, though it is always difficult to be sure with a woman when she is hanging with her arms above her head. But only Gothlanders could ask twelve marks for a slave-girl, however young. None the less, I expected you, Olof, to make a bid for her.”

“I might have done,” said Olof Summerbird, “if I were not so placed as I am. But there is only one woman I long for, and I shall not forfeit my right to her maidenhood.”

Orm stood scowling darkly after the disappearing ships.

“I am surely fated to fight with Gothlanders before I die,” he said, “though I am a peaceful man. Their arrogance is great, and I am beginning to weary of always letting them have the last word.”

“Perhaps we could fight them on our way home,” said Toke, “if our other enterprise comes to nothing.”

But Spof said that if those were his intentions, Orm would have to find another helmsman, for he would not take part in any fight against his own people.

In the afternoon of the same day they had a further encounter. They heard the harsh creak of oars, and around the nearest bend there emerged a ship, rowing swiftly. They had all their oars out, and were rowing with all their strength. At the sight of Orm’s ship, they slackened their pace; the ship carried twenty-four pairs of oars, as Orm’s did, and was filled with armed men.

Orm shouted immediately to his rowers to continue strongly and steadily, and to the rest of his men to make ready for battle; and Toke, who was standing at the steering-oar, altered course so as to be able to grapple the other ship without being rammed, if there should be fighting.

“What men are you?” came the cry from the strange ship.

“Men from Skania and Smaland,” replied Orm. “And you?”

“East Gutes.”

The river was broad here, and the current weak. Toke shouted to the larboard rowers to pull, and told the starboard men to rest on their oars, so that the ship swung swiftly round toward the East Gutes until both the ships were gliding side by side downstream, so close that their oars were all but touching.

“We had you at our mercy then, if we had wished to ram you,” said Toke, pleased at the success of his maneuver. “And that even though you had the current with you. We have been in situations like this before.”

The East Gute, seeing their willingness to fight, spoke more humbly.

“Have you met Gothlanders on the river?” he asked.

“Three ships this morning,” replied Orm.

“Did you speak with them?”

“In friendliness. They were carrying a good cargo, and asked if we knew if there were any East Gutes near.”

“Did they speak of East Gutes? Were they afraid?”

“They said they found life tedious without them.”

“That is like them,” said the East Gute. “Three ships, you said? What freight have you aboard?”

“Arms and men. Is there anything you want from us?”

“If what you say is true,” said the other, “you carry the same cargo as we, and there is nothing for us to fight for. I have a suggestion to make. Come with me and let us surprise these Gothlanders. They carry booty worth winning, and we will share it like brothers.”

“What quarrel have you with them?” asked Spof.

“They have riches aboard and I have none. Is not that cause enough? The luck has been against us since we started for home. We came rich from the Volga, but the Meres were waiting for us at the portage by the weirs and ambushed us. We lost one of our ships and most of our cargo, and have no wish to return home empty-handed. Come now with me, if you are the men you look to be. Gothlanders are always worth attacking. I have heard at home that they are beginning to shoe their horses with silver shoes.”

“We have business elsewhere,” said Orm, “and urgent business at that. But I doubt not the Gothlanders will be glad to see you. Three against one is the sort of odds they like.”

“Do as you wish,” said the other sullenly. “It is as I have always heard, that Skanians are swinish bladders of men with no thought save for themselves, and never stretch out a hand to a stranger.”

“It is true that we seldom think of East Gutes except when forced to,” replied Orm. “But you have wasted our time for long enough. Farewell!”

Orm’s ship was gliding slightly behind that of the Gutes, and Toke now swung her round facing upstream. While he was swinging her, the Gute chieftain’s anger outgrew his patience, and of a sudden he flung his spear at Orm, crying as he did so: “Perhaps this will help you to remember us!”

Olof Summerbird was standing beside Orm, and he now performed a feat that many had heard tell of, but few had ever had the good fortune to behold. As the spear winged its way toward Orm, Olof took a step forwards, caught it in its flight just below the blade, turned it in his hand, and flung it back with such speed that few of those present realized immediately what had happened. The East Gute was not prepared for so swift a reply, and the spear took him in the shoulder, so that he staggered and sat down on his deck.

“That was a greeting from Finnveden,” shouted Olof, and his men roared with approval of his feat and nodded to one another, hugely proud of their chieftain’s performance. All the sailors rejoiced with them, though they doubted not that the East Gutes would now attack them. But the Gutes seemed to have lost their stomach for fighting and proceeded downstream without further words.

“Such a throw I have never before seen,” said Orm, “and I thank you for it.”

“I am as skillful with weapons as most men,” said Toke, “but I could never match that feat. And you may be sure of this, Olof Styrsson, that few men have received such a tribute from Toke Gray-Gullsson.”

“It is a gift one is born with,” said Olof, “though perhaps an unusual one. I could do it even as a boy, finding it easy, though I have never been able to teach it to anyone else.”

That evening Olof’s feat was much discussed around the campfires on the bank, and they speculated on what would happen when the Gutes caught up with the Gothlanders.

“They cannot attack three good ships with only one,” said Toke, “however strong their itch for trouble. I think they will follow the Gothlanders out into the open sea, and hope they may become separated by bad weather. But the Gothlanders will not yield their cargo easily.”

“East Gutes are dangerous men,” said Orm. “We had some of them among us when I sailed to England with Thorkel the Tall. They are good fighters and regard themselves as the best in the world, which is perhaps the reason why they find it difficult to live peaceably with other men and take few pains over their behavior. They are merry when drunk, but otherwise take little pleasure in jests. But they are worst when they suspect that anyone is laughing at them behind their backs; rather than be mocked, they would run upon a spear-point. Therefore I think it best that we should keep good watch tonight, lest they should regret their continence and decide to return.”

But nothing further came of this encounter; and, cheered by this meeting with their countrymen, they rowed on into the limitless land.

They came to a place where the water boiled around great stones. There they hauled their ship on to the bank and emptied her. Then they dragged her up a trodden track past the weir and slid her back into the water. When they had brought the ship’s contents up by the same path and had replaced them in the ship, the men asked confidently if it was not now time for them to be given some of the good portage-ale. But Spof said that only novices at the work could suppose that they had yet earned it.

“This was not a portage,” he said, “but a lift. The ale will only be served after we have passed the portage.”

Several times they came to similar weirs, and to some where the climb was longer and steeper. But Spof always gave the same reply, so that they began to wonder what the appearance of the great portage might be.

Every evening, after they had gone ashore for the night, they fished in the river, always making fine catches. So they did not lack for food, though they had by now eaten most of what they had brought with them. In spite of this, however, they sat dejected around their fires as they cooked their fish, longing for fresh meat and agreeing with one another that too much fish made a man distempered. They began, too, to grow weary of the heavy rowing; but Spof comforted them, saying that things would soon be different.

“For you must know,” he said, “that the heavy rowing has not yet begun.”

Sone’s sons liked the fish less than anyone else and went out each evening to hunt. They took spears and bows and were cunning at discovering the tracks of animals and their watering-places. But although they were tireless and always came back late to the camp, it was a long time before they found anything. At last they sighted an elk, which they managed to corner and kill, and that night they did not return to the camp before dawn. They had lit a fire in the forest and eaten themselves full; and such meat as they brought back with them they were loath to part with.

After this they had better success with their hunting. Glad Ulf and Blackhair joined them on their sorties, and others also; and Orm regretted that he had not brought with him two or three of his great hounds, thinking that he could now be using them to good purpose.

One evening Blackhair came running back to the camp exhausted and breathless, shouting for men and ropes. There was now, he said, meat for all; and at this every man in the camp leaped quickly to his feet. They had driven five large animals into a bog, where they had killed them, and many men were needed to drag them out. All the men rushed joyfully to the spot, and they soon had the good meat on dry land. The animals looked like great bearded oxen, but oxen such as Orm had never before seen. Two of Toke’s men, however, said that these were wild oxen, such as were still sometimes to be found near Lake Asnen in Värend, where they were held sacred.

“Tomorrow we shall have a holiday,” said Orm, “and hold a feast.”

So they had a feast, at which no complaints were heard; and the wild oxen, which were praised by all for the flavor and good texture of their flesh, disappeared with what was left of the ale they had brought with them when they had started.

“It is no matter if we finish it,” said Orm, “for it is already beginning to grow sharp.”

“When we come to the town of the Polotjans,” said Spof, “we shall be able to buy mead. But do not let anyone tempt you to touch the portage-ale.”

When they had recovered from this meal and had continued on their course, they had the good fortune to be favored with a strong wind, so that for a whole day they were able to proceed by sail. They were now entering country where traces of man’s habitation could be seen on the banks.

“This is the country of the Polotjans,” said Spof. “But we shall not see any of them before we reach their town. Those who live in the wild country here never come near the river when word has come to them that ships are approaching, for fear lest they should be taken to serve at the oars and then be sold as slaves in a foreign land.”

Spof told them also that these Polotjans had no gods save snakes, who lived with them in their huts; but Orm looked at Spof and said that he had been to sea before and knew how much to believe of that story.

They came to the town of the Polotjans, which was called Polotsk and was of considerable size, with ramparts and stockades. Many men went naked there, though no women did so; for, a short while before, they had all been commanded to pay taxes, and the chieftain of the town had ordered that no man might wear clothes until he had paid what he owed the great Prince. Some of these looked more resentful than the rest; they had, they said, paid their tax, but must still go naked, because they had no clothes left after having pawned them to raise the money. In order to be ready for the cold season, they offered their wives for a good shirt, and their daughters for a pair of shoes, and found Orm’s men willing customers.

The chieftain of this town was of Swedish blood, and was called Faste; he received them hospitably and asked anxiously for news of events at home. He was aged, and had served the great Prince of Kiev for many years. He had Polotjan women in his house, and many children, and, when drunk, spoke their tongue in preference to his own. Orm bought from him mead and pork, and many other things also.

When they were ready to proceed, Faste came to bid them farewell and begged Orm to take with him his scribe, who was going to Kiev with a basket of heads. The great Prince, he explained, liked to be reminded that his town chieftains served him zealously, and was always pleased to receive evidence of their zeal in the shape of the heads of the more dangerous criminals. Lately it had become difficult to ensure a safe passage to Kiev, and he was reluctant to neglect so good an opportunity as this of sending his gift. The scribe was a young man, a native of Kiev; besides the heads, he carried a sheepskin on which were written the names of the former owners of the heads, together with an account of their misdeeds.

In view of the hospitality that Faste had shown him, Orm felt unable to deny him this request, though he was unwilling to comply with it. The heads awoke unpleasant memories in him, for he had received a present in that shape once before; he recalled, also, that his own head had been sold to King Sven, though the transaction had never been completed. Accordingly he regarded this basket as likely to bring bad luck with it, and all his men thought the same. It was, besides, noticeable in the summer heat that the heads were beginning to age, and before they had gone far the men began to complain of their stink. The scribe sat by his basket as though smelling nothing; he understood the Northmen’s tongue, however, and after a while suggested that the basket should be tied to a rope and allowed to trail in the water. This proposal won general approval; so the basket was tied firmly to a rope’s end and heaved overboard. They had, by this time, set sail again and were making good speed; and later that day Blackhair cried that the basket had detached itself and disappeared.