Authors: Frans G. Bengtsson
“I shall pay them for my men’s heads, since you so counsel me,” he said, “and will give them a sum the size of which will surprise them. When we were taking the sacks out of the river, we were in a great hurry, for we feared we might be attacked and outnumbered. In our haste we burst one of the sacks, so that most of its contents ran out into the water; and it contained nothing but fair silver coins. We had no time to gather up this money, so that at least a third of it is still lying there on the riverbed; and if your men are not afraid of water, they will be able to fish themselves great wealth there.”
He described the place, and how they would easily find it by the stones lying on the rock-flats, where they had put them after dragging them out of the water. Felimid translated his words to the gathering, and before he had finished, all the young men of the tribe were rushing to their horses so as to be the first to arrive at the place and dive for these unusual fish.
When these questions had been decided, Felimid suggested that they should dine and make merry together, for old times’ sake. He spoke much of King Harald and of his brother Ferdiad, and recalled the time he had visited Orm at Gröning and helped Father Willibald to convert the heathens after dinner in the church.
“But now that the Erin Masters have ceased to jest,” he said, “there are no good jesters left in the world. For we had no brothers, but were the last of the line of O’Flann, who had jested before kings ever since the days of King Conchobar MacNessa. In my loneliness here I have tried to teach some of the young Patzinaks something of my art, but have failed. The boys can do nothing at all, and when I turned in despair to the girls and tried to teach them to dance like a master jester, I found them too stupid to be able to follow my instructions, though I took pains with them and showed them how everything should be done. They were not quite so hopeless as the boys of this tribe, however, and one of them got as far as being able to dance reasonably well on her hands, and pipe the while. But that was the most she could attain to; and neither her piping nor the movements of her legs were all that could be desired.”
He spat meditatively and shook his head.
“Although she was but a novice in the art, and will never be more,” he said, “she became so vain of her supposed skill that she performed incessantly, until at last I grew tired of her and packed her off as a gift to Gzak. This Gzak you have doubtless heard of, for he is one of the three mightiest men in the whole world. He is the overlord of all the Patzinaks, and mostly grazes his flocks around Krim. Being a simple soul, who knows little about the arts, he was delighted with the girl. Then he sent her to the Emperor at Miklagard, as a thanks-gift for all the friendship-money that the Emperor had sent him. In Miklagard there must indeed be a dearth of dancers and jesters, for she danced before the Emperor himself and his court and won great praise and fame until, after a year, her vanity became such that she died for it. But my troubles are not at an end, for last winter Gzak sent messengers to me bidding me send him two new dancers of equal skill, to replace her at Miklagard; and my whole time is spent in training them. Their stupidity and clumsiness nauseate me, though I chose them carefully, and they are nothing for you to see, who have watched me and my brother display our art. If you would care to look at them, though, I have no objection to their appearing; they may amuse your sons.”
Orm said that he would like to see them, and Felimid shouted orders. When the members of the tribe heard what he said, they began to clap and cheer.
“The whole tribe is proud of them,” said Felimid dolefully, “and their mothers wash them in sweet milk every morning, to make their skins clear. But they will never learn to dance properly, whatever pains I may expend upon them.”
Mats were spread out on the ground in front of the chieftains, and men brought flaming torches. Then the dancers appeared and were greeted with a great sigh of anticipation from all the tribesmen. They were well-shaped and appeared to be about thirteen or fourteen years old. They wore red hats over their dark hair, and strings of green glass beads round their breasts, and were dressed in broad breeches of yellow silk from the land of the Seres, tied at the ankles.
“It is a long time since I last saw dancing-girls,” said Orm. “Not since I served my lord Almansur. But I do not think I ever saw any of a more engaging appearance than these.”
“It is not by their appearance, but by their dancing, that they are to be judged,” said Felimid. “But I designed their costumes myself and think them not displeasing.”
The dancers had with them two boys of the same age as themselves, who squatted on their haunches and began to blow on pipes. As the music started, the girls began to hop around in the torchlight to the time of the pipes, strutting and giving sudden leaps and bouncing backwards and twirling round on one leg, so that everybody except Felimid sat entranced. When the girls stopped, great applause broke out, and they looked gratified when they observed that the strangers, too, appeared pleased with their performance. Then they glanced timidly at Felimid. He nodded toward them, as though satisfied, and turned to Orm.
“I cannot tell them what I really feel,” he explained, “for it would make them miserable, and the whole tribe with them. And they are doing their best this evening, with strangers present. But the pipers pain me more than the girls, although they are Khazar slaves who have been given much leisure for practice, and the Khazars are said to be skillful pipers. But that is evidently a false reputation.”
The girls began to dance anew, but after a while Felimid shouted angrily at them, so that they ceased.
“I am glad my brother Ferdiad was spared this,” he said to Orm. “He had a more tender ear than I.”
He said something to the pipers, and one of them came over and handed him his pipe.
As Felimid set his lips to it, it seemed as though witchcraft entered into its reeds. It was as though he piped of joy and luck, jests and laughter, the beauty of women and the gleam of swords, the shimmer of morning upon a lake, and the wind blowing over spring grasses. Blackhair and Ulf sat rocking backwards and forwards, as though they had difficulty in remaining seated; the two chieftains sitting on either side of Felimid nodded piously and fell asleep; the Patzinaks stamped their feet and clapped their hands rhythmically, some laughing, others crying; and the dancing-girls spun and hovered as though they had been translated into thistledown by the notes of Felimid’s pipe.
At last he took the pipe from his lips and twitched his huge ears contentedly.
“I have played worse,” he said.
“It is my belief,” said Orm, “that there is still no master in the world who can compare with you, and it is not surprising that these men worshipped you from the moment you came among them. But it is beyond any man’s power to understand how you can conjure such music as that from this simple pipe.”
“It comes from the goodness that is in the wood of the pipe, when the pipe is truly made,” said Felimid, “and that goodness is revealed when the pipe is blown by someone who has a similar goodness in his soul, as well as patience to seek out the secrets that lie hidden within the pipe. But there must be no wood in his soul.”
Faste’s scribe ran forward and, falling on his knees before Felimid, besought him to lend him the pipe. There were tears running down his cheeks.
“What do you want it for?” asked Felimid. “Can you play a pipe?”
“No,” said the scribe. “I am a state official, employed in the department of taxes. But I shall learn. I wish to remain with you and play a pipe.”
Felimid handed him the pipe. He set it to his mouth and began to blow. He managed to produce a tiny squeak, but no more, and the Patzinaks contorted their bodies with laughter at his futile endeavors. But he continued to blow, his face pale and his eyes staring, while Felimid gazed earnestly at him.
“Do you see anything?” asked Felimid.
The scribe handed him back the pipe. Shaking with sobs, he replied: “I see only that which you lately blew upon.”
Felimid nodded. “You may stay,” he said. “I will teach you. When I have finished training these girls, I shall make you good enough to play before the Emperor himself. You may keep the pipe.”
So the evening ended; and next morning Felimid rode with his guests to the ship, with a great host of Patzinaks accompanying them. But before they took their leave of him, Felimid gave them all parting gifts. To Orm, Blackhair, and Ulf he gave each a knife, with gold engraving on the hilts and cunningly worked silver sheaths; and for Ylva he gave them a bale of Serean silk. They thanked him for his gifts, and thought it a bad thing that they had no fine present to give him in return as a token of friendship.
“I take pleasure in few things,” said Felimid, “and gold and silver are not among them. So it matters little that you have nothing to give me, for I do not need gifts to be sure of your friendship. There is, though, now that I think of it, one thing that I should like to have, if you should ever find an opportunity to send it to me. Are your great hounds still alive?”
Orm said that they were, and in good health, and that there had been fourteen of them when he had left home. Then Felimid said: “Soon, Blackhair, you will be a full-fledged warrior, and it cannot be long before you will set forth on a long voyage of your own, now that you have started so young. It may be that you will journey to Kiev, or perhaps to Miklagard. If this should happen, bring two or three of the great hounds with you, as a present for me. That would be a friendship-gift that I would cherish indeed, and I cannot think of one that would give me greater pleasure; for they come from Erin, which is my home also.”
Blackhair promised that he would do this if he came again to the Eastland; then they broke camp and turned their faces once again to the north. Faste’s scribe nodded abstractedly at them as they rode away, his mind being otherwise occupied; for he was sitting with the Khazar slaves, practicing busily on his pipe. Both Blackhair and Ulf would have liked to stay longer with the Patzinaks, to watch the dancers and partake in other pleasures with them; but Orm was impatient to get back to his ship and his men, for he felt half naked, he said, and a mean man, without Blue-Tongue at his waist.
When they reached the river, the Patzinaks halted a short way from the bank, so that there should be no trouble between them and Orm’s men; but neither the men who had captured Blackhair and Ulf nor the rest of the band would release their prisoners before the ransom had been paid in full. Orm went alone toward the ship, and when the men aboard saw him they raised joyous cries and put out a boat. Toke handed him his sword and asked eagerly how he had fared. Orm told him how he had met Felimid and how they had settled the whole matter between them, including the amount of the ransom they were to pay for Blackhair and Ulf.
Toke laughed with joy.
“Our luck, too, has been nothing to complain of,” he said, “and you need waste no silver to free the boys. We have nine Patzinaks aboard, bound hand and foot, and they will be more than sufficient ransom for our two.”
He added that Spof and Long Staff and many of the others had been unable to rest for thinking of all the silver that had been spilled into the water.
“They begged and badgered me,” he said, “until at last I yielded. Spof went with twenty men along the right bank, where there was no danger of their being attacked. Midway between the two weirs they crossed the river, at a place where the water was so shallow that they scarcely needed to swim, and crept stealthily through the dusk to the place where the treasure lay. Then they heard merry shouts and saw horses grazing, and came upon these Patzinaks as they were fishing up the silver. We captured the lot of them without difficulty, for they were unarmed and we seized them before they could climb out of the water. With them we captured all the silver that they had fished out. We were just debating whether to free one of them and send him back to his people to obtain the release of you and the boys.”
Orm said that this was, indeed, good news, though he doubted whether the Patzinaks would think so. He stood for a while pondering.
“I shall not demand ransom for these prisoners,” he said, “and no man in the ship shall lose by this, but only I myself. But they shall not be released until the boys are freed.”
“You are a great chieftain,” said Toke, “and must act like one. But in this you are being generous to men who do not deserve such treatment. For it was they who attacked us in the first place, and not we them.”
“You do not know Felimid,” said Orm. “He is worth much generosity. This matter shall be settled the way I wish it.”
So he and Toke fetched a sack of silver and carried it between them to the waiting Patzinaks. When they saw what the sack contained, the Patzinaks ran around measuring each other’s hats, to find the biggest, but Felimid grew vexed at this and took off his own hat and ordered that the silver should be measured out in that; nor did they dare to say that it should be otherwise.
Then men were sent to search among the pieces of timber that lay on the ground at the beginning of the dragging-tracks, and returned shortly with a plank. This was placed across a stone and axed so that it weighed evenly on either side. Then Blackhair sat on one end of it. The Patzinaks lay saddlebags across the other end, and into these Toke poured silver from the sack until Black-hair’s end was lifted from the ground. All the Patzinaks, said Felimid, agreed that this business of the weighing had been carried out in a chieftainlike manner, for they realized that if Blackhair had taken his clothes off before sitting on the plank, Orm would thereby have saved silver, and nobody could have complained that he was acting dishonorably.
When the weighing was completed, Toke went back to the ship with the silver that remained, and Orm said to Felimid: “I have enjoyed a deal of luck since I started on this voyage, and not the least of it was that I met you. When we rode from your camp, you gave us friendship-gifts, and now I have one to offer you in return. You see these men?”