TLV - 02 - The Road of the Sea Horse (5 page)

He let the horns summon the men to a Thing.

Looking down from the rock on which he stood, he was surprised at how much sorrow he saw. Had Magnus indeed been so beloved? After a few respectful words, he tried to fire them afresh. He would go to Viborg and be crowned, and then lay Denmark under him. It was his rightful inheritance from King Magnus, he told them, just as Norway was. He asked the host to aid him, and promised that hereafter and in all time to come Norsemen would be overlords of the Danes.

No cheering sounded when he finished. Men shuffled their feet and whispered among themselves. Finally Eindridhi Einarsson mounted the rock and declared: "This is no lawful holding of yours, for before he died, the king said in front of witnesses that he left Denmark to Svein Ulfsson."

A rush of anger made Harald feel dizzy and sick. So even on his deathbed Magnus would betray him? He mastered himself and retorted:

"That has no law behind it, for Magnus and I shared the power. He could not give away what was not his. I fear his mind was wandering in the last moments, and again I ask you to follow me and not to throw away everything our friends have died for."

Eindridhi stood down as Einar Thambaskelfir came heavily up to stand on the rock beside Harald. A light wind ruffled his gray hair and swirled the cloak around his big form. He spoke clearly, loud enough for all to hear:

"I feel myself under a greater duty, to follow my foster son King Magnus to his grave, and bring him home to his father King Olaf, rather than lie out fighting in a foreign land and stealing the realm and goods of another king."

He went on for a little, hard deep-voiced words, and Harald looked over the host and saw men nodding. Einar finished:

"It seems me better to follow King Magnus dead than any other king living!"

Swords were out, flashing in the sharp salt air and clanging on shields. Einar Thambaskelfir stepped down to the ground and went to Magnus's bier. He took the body in his arms and bore it out again onto the
Wisent,
where he paid it the last respects. His Thronds ignored Harald and started to break camp and load their ships; no few others did likewise. By evening, sitting gloomily in his tent, Harald saw them row off.

Ulf came in and stood for a while leaning on the tent pole. "Well," he said at length, "if you wish to go to Viborg, best you pass the word to such men as have stayed with us."

Harald sighed. He felt beaten, drained of will and strength. "We can scarce do that," he said. "I've decided it were best for me to go home too, and make sure of Norway ere trying to enlarge the realm. It hurts to give up what we've gained, but—"

"Next year we'll settle this war," said Ulf, laying a hand on his shoulder.

"Next year!" said Harald. "Always next year. More men to die, more homes to be burned, more treasure to be spent, and all because they cannot get together on one thing at a time. Here I sit, the only king in Norway and Denmark. I have what I wished for through thirty years, and it's naught. Would God I were back dreaming about it!"

"We'll win yet," said Ulf. "You are not one to give up when things go ill."

"No . . . no . . ." Harald rose. "Well, back to Norway, then. Tell the men for me. I'll go to every shire-Thing and have myself hailed; then we shall see what can be done next summer."

"I would you didn't ever fare so wildly about," said Ulf. "Your wife has small cheer from you."

"Or I from her," mumbled Harald. "Go now."

Ulf left, his head drooping.

The next day, Harald's followers embarked, and the Danish church bells pealed thanksgiving.

As for Svein Estridhsson, he made good his escape to the Sound, where he took ship for Scania. Here he stayed a while at an estate of his mother's and was racked by doubt and self-reproach. It seemed he had brought nothing but misfortune on his people, and that it was better they yield to the Norse than fight a war they never won. He finally reached his decision: to give up his claims and go live quietly in Sweden.

It is said that he was mounting his horse for this journey when some of his men came in haste with the news; Magnus Olafsson was fallen, and the enemy had left. For a moment Svein stood without moving, and they saw how a light grew in his face. Then he sprang to the saddle and cried aloud:

"No
w I swear by Almighty God, that
never again, as long as I live, will I let myself be driven out of Denmark!"

He rode with his warriors down through Scania, where the folk were as always ready to join him, and so to Roskilde. In the course of that winter, he brought the realm back under him, and was proclaimed king throughout the land. In the late fall there came to him Magnus's mother and half brother, with notice of the Norse ruler's last will and a warning that Harald Sigurdharson did not mean to abide by it. They stayed a long time at Svein's court, and he showed them great honor.

III

Of Thora Thorbergsdottir

1

Harald landed in the South, in Viken, and sent most of his men home with the ships. He kept about a hundred by him, warriors he trusted. Among these were his old Varangians, Dalesmen who supported Thori of Steig, and ambitious young fellows from anywhere in the land hoping to rise high in the king's service. Though harvest time was nearing and folk had work to do, he called the Borgar Thing to proclaim him sole ruler of Norway. No one spoke against this, for his right of inheritance was clear and his troop well armed.

Thereafter he rode up through the country, and at one Thingstead after another was lawfully taken as king. Swift travel was necessary to get home before snow should fall, and the horses were gaunt by the time they had come halfway.

As he prepared to leave the Sunnmaer Thingstead, a man came up to him. This was Thorberg Arnason, brother to Finn and Kalf, the sheriff and leader of the meeting; his family, the Arnmodhlings, was old and great, having been kings here before Harald Fairhair. He was a big
man, heavily built, with the beginnings of a paunch but with an ox-like strength in his broad red face. His ruddy hair and full beard were stabbed with gray. For all his wealth, he was simply clad, in the rough wadmal breeches and coat of a yeoman, leather leggings, a woolen stocking cap. "I hope you are pleased with what has been done, my lord," he said.

"Very much," answered Harald. "You were good to speak so well of me. In too many places, they only agreed to have me because they could not think what else to do."

"True, you have the name of giving hard redes," said Thorberg, "but it seems to me that we need a strong king." He cocked a small shrewd eye upward. "Do you hasten too much, though? I've seen your horses; they won't stand the pace."

"No, we shall have to lie over for a while."

"Then why not come be my guests? I live at Gizki, off Hjorunga Bay, not far from here, and can promise you some fine ale if naught else."

Harald smiled. He was getting so few welcomes that this one was oddly touching. "We shall be happy to do so."

They remained overnight at the Thingstead, sleeping in the booths, and the next morning Thorberg joined his following to Harald's and led the way. They had a day's ride through steep-walled dales where the first yellowing frost lay wanly across woods. When they came out at the bay, Thorberg took them to a garth he owned where the horses could be left. Three ships rested on the beach, and with these the band rowed out to the island where he lived.

"This is a famous bit of water," he said, pointing to the choppy gray waves. "Here Haakon Jarl the Great smote the Jomsvikings the Danish king had sent against him, a lifetime ago. There've been few such fights as that one. Some say Haakon offered his youngest son to the gods, and only thus had the victory. But then, many evil things are said of him merely because he was a heathen and defied kings."

"He stood for the old ways, and the time was another," replied Harald sharply. "It's not strange he got a bad name."

"Well," drawled Thorberg, "the man who is too far ahead of his time can also look for trouble."

Harald made no answer.

The island rose steeply from the sea, facing into a spouting thunder of surf. When the ships were steered to rest and the men had climbed an upward path, Harald saw a good-sized steading among wind-crippled trees, a dozen timber buildings and a bustle of housefolk. It could easily guest his hundred. "Most of my holdings are on the mainland," said Thorberg, "but I like this place to live. My kin have ever been traders and Vikings, like myself, and I would not sleep well away from the sea noise."

A hollow booming shivered in the rock, endless waters marching mightily from the rim of the world. Gulls mewed in the chill salt air, a snowstorm of wings under hastening lead-gray clouds. It was good to enter the fire-lit warmth of the hall. There the men sat down on the benches, and the carles began setting up the trestle tables. Thorberg gave Harald the seat of honor, and sat across the fire from him.

"Welcome, my lord. We were hoping you would come."

The king turned his head to that husky voice with a hint of laughter. A young woman gave him a beaker of ale.

"Thank you," he said. As he looked closer, squinting through the flickering gloom, he put on the manners of the empire: "I had awaited a noble greeting, but not so fair a greeter."

She met his eyes boldly. She was tall, with a white dress that lay close around the deep curves of breast and thigh; at the throat were raw gold and amber. Her face was wide and snub-nosed like Thorberg's, but good to watch. Her eyes were large and bright between smoky lashes, her hair a heavy deep-red wave down to her waist to show she was a maiden. "I am Thora, the older daughter," she said. "I had scarce hoped to
meet the great King Harald Har
drede."

"So that's what they're calling me!" he laughed. "Well, like most nicknames, it rings true." He gestured to the high seat, wide enough for two. "Come join me."

Thora colored. "Thank you, my lord." She mounted the chair in one flowing movement. It was not uncommon for men and women to drink in pairs, though as a rule the whole company would do so together.

Thorberg opened his mouth, but shut it again. After turning the matter over in his mind, he seemed to decide he was pleased.

Harald felt a little light-headed; his weariness dropped from him and he drank thirstily. "This is good," he said. "Elsewhere, men have taken us in, but with small cheer."

"I cannot understand that," said Thora. "Are you not the only rightful king, and a famous warrior to boot?"

Harald stroked his short beard; in the dancing light, it was as if spun of red-gold wire. "Well," he replied. "I am perhaps too much of a king. But enough of that. Have you dwelt on this island your whole life?"

"Yes, my lord, though we often go elsewhere guesting. Still . . ." She sighed. "At times it grows empty here. I would like to see more of the world."

"I'm surprised so fair a maid, and the daughter of a mighty chief, is still unwed."

"I have had suitors." The short nose wrinkled. "They smell of barnyard. Or else they are little, men, traders who may go as far as Finnmark when they're very daring. My father would not marry me off without my own yea, and after all I am but twenty winters old."

Ulf sat gloomily, watching them sideways as they talked ever more eagerly together. He ate little and drank much. But after a while he made the acquaintance of Thora's sister Jorunn, a slim quiet girl with the same red hair, and that lightened his mood somewhat. The third child living here was Eystein, a bright quick lad who watched Harald with dog's eyes.

"And how is it in the South? Is it true that in
Miklagardh the streets are paved with gold?"

"No, but there is gold aplenty for him who can take it. I mind one time, we were warring in Syria and came to a walled town which we stormed. That was where I got this scar on my wrist, see it here?"

"That was a bad wound." Thora's blunt soft fingers brushed across it; looking down at her bent neck, Harald saw how the thick hair poured over strong shoulders and wanted to stroke it. "You must have been in great pain."

"No, at such times you pay no heed, there's too much else to think about. Only later do the cuts begin to smart. Well, anyhow, we got inside the town. Some Saracens were making a stand in one house, so I went up on the roof with a number of men, broke through, and came into the upper story. We found many heavy caskets, so we cut a hole in the floor and threw these down on the foe. As they burst open, the floor below was covered with gold and silver monies. Surely that was an honorable death, smashed by a king's ransom! And I've heard that among some of the wild horsemen of the Asian plains, royal blood may not be spilled, so a captured king is put to death by having molten gold poured down his throat."