“It is an unlucky thing to possess an object that all men desire to finger,” said Orm sadly.
“If that is the way you feel,” said Ylva, “why did you not let Sigtrygg have it? You would then have been freed from the cares it brings you.”
“Of one thing I am certain, though I have known you for but a short while,” said Orm: “that whatsoever man weds you, there will be long intervals between those occasions on which he will enjoy the last word.”
“I hardly think you are ever likely to be in a position to prove the truth of that remark,” said Ylva. “The way you look now, I would not lie in the same bed with you if you were to offer me five necklaces. Why have you not got someone to wash your hair and beard? You look worse than a Smalander. But tell me straightway whether you will show me the necklace or no.”
“That is a fine way to speak to a sick man,” said Orm, “to liken him to a Smalander. I would have you know that I am of noble blood on both my father’s and my mother’s side. My mother’s grandmother’s half-brother was Sven Rat-Nose of Göinge, and he, as you may know, was directly descended through his mother from Ivar of the Broad Embrace. It is only because I am sick that I tolerate your impertinences; otherwise I would already have shooed you out of the room. I will confess, however, that I should like to be washed, though I am not really well enough to be touched; and if you are willing to do me that service, I shall have the chance to see whether you can be more skillful at some things than you are at serving soup. Though, it may be that the daughters of kings are not competent to perform such useful duties.”
“You are proposing that I act as your slave-girl,” said Ylva, “which no man has dared to suggest to me before. It is lucky for you that the blood of Broad-Hug runs in your veins. But I confess it would amuse me to see how you look after you have been washed, so I shall come early tomorrow morning, and you will then see that I can perform such tasks as well as anybody.”
“I must be combed, too,” said Orm. “Then, when you have done all this to my satisfaction, I may, perhaps, show you the necklace.”
Meanwhile things were becoming somewhat noisy in Toke’s half of the room. The broth and the sight of a woman had considerably raised his spirits. He had managed to pull himself up into a sitting position, and they were endeavoring to converse in her language. This he was able to do but lamely; but he was all the more nimble in the use of his hands, with which he was trying to draw her closer to him. She defended herself against his advances, striking him on the knuckles with her spoon, but made no great effort to move out of distance and seemed not altogether displeased, while Toke praised her beauty as well as he was able and cursed his game leg that kept him sedentary.
Orm and Ylva turned to watch them as their sport became noisier. Ylva smiled at their antics, but Orm shouted crossly to Toke to behave himself and leave the girl alone.
“What do you suppose King Harald will have to say,” he said, “if he hears that you have been fondling one of his women above her knees?”
“Perhaps he will remark, as you did,” said Ylva, “that it is an unlucky thing to own something that all men wish to finger. But he will hear nothing about it from my lips, for he has more than enough women for a man of his years; and she, unhappy girl, finds little joy among us here, and weeps often and is hard to comfort, since she understands little of what we say to her. So do not let it worry you that she sports with a man whose compliments she can understand, and who seems, besides, to be a bold fellow.”
Orm, however, insisted that Toke must control his inclinations while they were enjoying King Harald’s hospitality.
Toke, in the meantime, had become somewhat calmer and was now only holding the girl by one of her plaits. He assured Orm that there was no cause for alarm.
“For nobody can accuse me of anything,” he said, “while my leg is in its present state; besides which, you heard with your own ears the little priest say that King Harald expressly ordered everything possible to be done to make us comfortable, because of the snub we served King Sven. Now, as everybody knows, I am a man to whose comfort women are an essential factor; and this woman seems to me to be an admirable specimen of her kind. I cannot think of anything that could be more likely to hasten my recovery; indeed, I am beginning to feel better already. I have told her to come here as often as she can, for my health’s sake; and I do not think she is afraid of me, though I have been flirting somewhat boldly with her.”
Orm grunted doubtfully; but the end of it was that both the women agreed to come the next morning and wash their heads and beards. Then Brother Willibald arrived in a flurry to dress their wounds, and when he saw the spilt broth, he shrieked with fury and drove the women from the room. Not even Ylva dared to gainsay him, for everyone was afraid of the man who wielded power over their life and health.
When Orm and Toke were left alone, they lay on their beds in silence, having much to occupy their thoughts. At length Toke said: “Our luck has turned good again, now that women have managed to find their way to us. Things are beginning to look more cheerful.”
But Orm said: “We shall have bad luck on our hands if you cannot curb your itches; and I should be easier in my mind if I were sure that you could.”
Toke replied that he had good hopes of his ability to do this, if he really tried in earnest. “Though I doubt whether she would be anxious to spurn my advances,” he said, “if I were fit and able to press them; for an old king cannot be much company for a girl of her spirit, and she has been kept under strict surveillance ever since she first came here. She is called Mirah, and comes from a place called Ronda, and is of good family. She was captured by Vikings who came in the night and bore her away with many others of her village and sold her to the King of Cork. He, in turn, gave her to King Harald as a friendship-gift, because of her great beauty; but she says that she would have appreciated the honor more if he had given her to someone younger with whom she could talk. I have seldom seen such a fine girl, so beautifully formed and smooth-skinned; though the girl who sat on your bed is also fine, if perhaps a trifle skinny and less full of figure than she might be. And she seems to be well disposed toward you. Even in such a place as this, our quality is apparent, for we win the favor of women even from our sickbeds.”
But Orm replied that he had no room in his thoughts for woman-love, for he felt more sick and enfeebled than ever and doubted whether he had much time left.
The next morning, as soon as it was light, the women came to them as they had promised, bringing warm lye, water, and hand-cloths, and washed Orm’s and Toke’s heads and beards meticulously. Ylva had some difficulty in attending to Orm, because he was unable to sit up, but she supported his body with her arm and used him carefully, and emerged from her task with credit, for he got no lye in his eyes or mouth and yet became clean and fine. Then she seated herself on the head of his bed, put his head between her knees, and began to comb him. She asked him if he was uncomfortable, but Orm had to admit that he was not. She found difficulty in passing the comb through his hair, for it was thick and coarse, and very tangled as a result of the washing; but she persevered patiently with the task, so that he thought he had never in his life been better combed. She spoke familiarly to him, as though they had been friends for a long time; and Orm felt well content to have her near him.
“You will have your heads washed again before you get up,” she said, “for the Bishop and his men like to baptize people when they are lying sick on their backs, and I am surprised they have not already spoken to you about it. They baptized my father when he was sorely ill and had small hope of recovery. Most people regard a sickbed as the best place to be baptized in during the winter, for if a man is ill the priests merely sprinkle his head, whereas if he is well he has to be completely immersed in the sea, which few men fancy when the water is still sharp with ice. It is unpleasant for the priests, too, for they have to stand in the water up to their knees, and become blue in the face, and their teeth chatter so that they can scarcely
speak the blessings. For this reason, they prefer in winter to baptize men who cannot move from their beds. Myself the Bishop baptized on Midsummer Day, which they call the Day of the Baptist, and that was not unpleasant. We squatted round him in our white shifts, I and my sisters, while he read over us, and then lifted his hand and we held our noses and ducked under the water. I remained below the surface longer than any of the others, so that my baptism was held to be the best. Then we were all given garments that had been blessed, and little crosses to wear about our necks. And no harm came to any of us as a result of this.”
Orm replied that he knew all about such strange customs, having dwelt in the southland, where nobody was permitted to eat pork, and with the monks of Ireland, who had tried to persuade him to allow himself to be baptized.
“But it will take a long time,” he said, “before anyone convinces me that the observances of such customs can do a man good or can seriously gratify any god. I should like to see the bishop or priest who could get me to sit in cold water up to my ears, in summer or winter. Nor have I any desire to have water sprinkled over my head, or to be read over; for it is my belief that a man ought to beware of all such forms of sorcery and trollcraft.”
Ylva said that several of King Harald’s men had complained of the backache after being baptized and had requested the Bishop to give them money for the pain, but that, apart from this, they were apparently none the worse for their experience; indeed, there were many who had now come to regard baptism as being advantageous to a man’s health. The priests had no objection to a man’s eating pork, as Orm had doubtless observed during the Yuletide feasting, nor did they lay down any regulations regarding diet, save only that when anyone offered them horse-meat they spat and crossed themselves, and had at first occasionally been heard to mutter that men ought not to eat meat on Fridays; her father, however, had expressed his unwillingness to hear any more talk on that subject. She herself could not say that she had found the new religion in any way inconvenient. There were some, though, who held that the harvest was smaller and the cows’ milk thinner nowadays, and that this was because people had begun to neglect the old gods.
She drew her comb slowly through a tuft of Orm’s hair which she had just untangled, and held it up against the daylight to examine it closely.
“I do not understand how this can be,” she said, “but there does not appear to be a single louse in your hair.”
“That is not possible,” said Orm. “It must be a bad comb.”
She said that it was a good louse-comb, and scraped his head so that his scalp burned, but still she could find no louse.
“If what you say is true, then I am sick indeed,” said Orm, “and things are even worse than I had feared. This can only mean that my blood is poisoned.”
Ylva ventured the opinion that things might perhaps not be quite so bad as he feared, but Orm was much depressed by her discovery. He lay in silence while she finished her combing, acknowledging her further remarks with dispirited grunts. Meanwhile, however, Toke and Mirah had all the more to say to each other and appeared to be finding each other more and more congenial.
At last Orm’s hair and beard were combed ready, and Ylva regarded the results of her work with satisfaction.
“Now you look less like a scarecrow,” she said, “and more like a chieftain. Few women would run from the sight of you now, and you can thank me for that.”
She picked up his shield, rubbed it with her sleeve in the part where it was least scarred, and held it in front of his face. Orm regarded himself in it and nodded.
“You have combed me well,” he admitted, “better than I thought a king’s daughter could. It may be that you are somewhat above the run of them. You have earned a glimpse of my necklace.”
So saying, he loosened the neck of his shirt, drew forth the chain, and handed it to her. Ylva uttered a little cry as her hands closed on it. She weighed it in her fingers and admired its beauty; and Mirah left Toke and ran to look at it, and she, too, murmured aloud with wonder. Orm said to Ylva: “Hang it round your neck,” and she did as he bade her. The necklace was long and hung down over the breast-rings of her undergarment. She hastily set the shield on the wall-seat to see how the necklace looked against her throat.
“It is long enough to go twice round my neck,” she said, and was unable to take her eyes or her fingers from it. “How should it be worn?”
“Almansur kept it in a chest,” said Orm, “where no one ever set eyes on it. Since it became mine, I have worn it beneath my shirt until it chafed my skin, and never showed it to any man until this Yuletide, when it straightway brought me pain. No one, I think, can say that it has not now found a more suitable resting-place; therefore, Ylva, regard it as your own and wear it as you think most fitting.”
She clutched the necklace with both hands, and stared at him with enormous eyes.
“Have you taken leave of your senses?” she cried. “What have I done that you should give me such a princely gift? The noblest queen in the world would lie with a berserk for the sake of a poorer jewel than this.”
“You have combed me well,” replied Orm, and he smiled at her. “We who are of Broad-Hug’s line give good friendship-gifts or none at all.”
Mirah, too, wished to try on the necklace, but Toke commanded her to return to him and not to tease her mind with trinkets; and he had already won such power over her that she obeyed him meekly.
Ylva said: “Perhaps I would do best to hide it beneath my clothing, for my sisters and all the women in the palace would claw out my eyes to get it for themselves. But why you have given it to me is beyond my understanding, however much of Broad-Hug’s blood may run in your veins.”
Orm sighed, and answered: “What shall it profit me when the grass grows over my limbs? I know now that I shall surely die, for you have found that not even a louse will live on my body; though, indeed, I had guessed as much already. Perhaps it might have become yours even if I had not been marked for death; though then I should have required something of you in return for it. You seem to me to be well worthy of such a jewel, and it is my guess that you will prove fully able to defend it if anyone should challenge you to a contest of nails. But, for my part, I would rather live and see it glitter between your breasts.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CONCERNING THE WRATH OF BROTHER WILLIBALD AND HOW ORM TRIED HIS HAND AT WOOING
THINGS soon turned out as Ylva had foretold, for a few days later the Bishop began to hint that the two wounded men should allow themselves to be baptized; but he had no success with either of them in this matter. Orm lost his patience almost at once, and told him sharply that he wished to hear no more about it, as he had in any case but a short time left to live; and Toke said that he, for his part, would very soon be fit and well and so had no need of any spiritual assistance. The Bishop then set Brother Matthias to strive to win them over by patient methods and gradual education, and he made several endeavors to teach them the Creed, ignoring their entreaties to be left in peace. Then Toke had a good spear, slim-bladed and keen-edged, brought to him, and the next time Brother Matthias came to instruct them he found Toke sitting up in bed, supported on one elbow, weighing the spear thoughtfully in his free hand.
“It would be an ill thing to break the peace in King Harald’s palace,” said Toke, “but I do not think anyone can condemn an invalid for doing so in self-defense. It would also be a pity to soil the floor of so fine a chamber as this with the blood of a fat man, and your veins look full; I have persuaded myself, however, that if I can nail you cleanly to a wall with this spear, the blood-gush will be contained within reasonable limits. To do this will not be a simple task for a bedridden man to perform, but I shall try my best to execute it competently; and this I swear I shall do the moment you open your mouth to plague us with your prattle. For, as we have told you, we do not wish to hear any more of it.”
Brother Matthias turned white and raised his hands before him in fearful supplication. At first he s
eemed to be about to speak; then, however, his limbs began to quake and he beat a smart retreat from the chamber, slamming the door behind him. After this they were not disturbed by him any more. But Brother Willibald, who never showed any sign of fear, came at his usual time to dress their wounds, and rebuked them severely for the fright they had given Brother Matthias.
“You are a man of mettle,” said Toke, “though there is but little of you; and I confess that I prefer you to other men of your kidney, though you are rude and peevish. Perhaps it is because you do not try to badger us into this Christianity, but content yourself with ministering to our wounds.”
Brother Willibald replied that he had been longer than his fellow priests in this land of darkness and had managed to free himself from such vain fancies and ambitions.
“When I first came here,” he said, “I was as fanatical as any other member of the blessed Benedict’s order in my zeal to baptize every heathen soul. But now I am wiser and know what is feasible and what is merely vanity. It is right that the children of this land should be baptized, together with such women as have not wallowed too deeply in sin, if indeed any such are to be found; but the grown men of this country are veritable apostles of Satan and must, in the name of divine justice, burn in hell-fire, however assiduously one may baptize them; for no redemption can suffice to wipe away such vileness as their souls are stained with. Of this I am sure, for I know them well; therefore I do not waste my time trying to convert such men as you.”
His voice became frenzied, and he glared wrathfully from one to the other, brandishing his arms and crying: “Blood-wolves, murderers and malefactors, adulterate vermin, Gadarene swine, weeds of Satan and minions of Beelzebub, generation of vipers and basilisks, shall you be cleansed by holy baptism and stand as white as snow in the regiments of the blessed angels? Nay, I tell you, it shall not be so. I have lived long in this house and have witnessed too much; I know your ways. No bishop or holy father shall ever persuade me that such as you can be saved. How should men of the north be allowed to enter the gates of heaven? You would scrabble at the blessed virgins with your lewd fingers, you would raise your war-whoops against the seraphim and archangels, you would bawl for ale before the throne of God Himself! No, no, I know what I speak of. Hell alone will serve for such as you, whether you be baptized or no. Praised be Almighty God, the One, the Eternal, amen!”
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