The King nodded his head, glanced at the Archbishop, and nodded again.
“And since,” continued Orm, “both God and yourself, King Ethelred, find it a cause for rejoicing that so many of us have come up to Westminster to be baptized, it might perhaps be a wise thing to allow all such converts to receive their share here and now. If this should happen, many of our comrades might be driven to wonder whether it would not be beneficial to their souls, also, that they should become Christians.”
Gudmund declared in a loud voice that these words exactly expressed his own feelings on the matter. “If you do as he suggests,” he added, “I can promise you that every follower of mine who is encamped outside this town will become a Christian at the same time as I do.”
The Archbishop said that this was capital news, and promised that skilled instructors would be sent immediately to prepare the men for conversion. It was then agreed that all the Vikings who had come to London should receive their share of the silver as soon as they had been baptized, and that the army at Maldon should have a third of its silver dispatched without delay, the balance to follow in six weeks.
When the meeting had concluded and they had left the hall, Gudmund thanked Orm warmly for the help he had given him. “I have never heard wiser words issue from the mouth of so young a man,” he said. “There is no doubt that you were born to be a chieftain. It will be very advantageous to me to get my silver now, for I have the feeling that some of those who are going to wait till later may experience some difficulty in obtaining their full amount. I do not intend that you shall go unrewarded for this service; so when I receive my share, five marks of it shall be yours.”
“I have observed,” replied Orm, “that, despite the measure of your wisdom, you are in some ways an excessively modest man. If you were a common or petty chieftain, with five or six ships and no name to speak of, five marks might be regarded as a proper sum to offer me for the service I have rendered you. But, seeing that your fame stretches far beyond the frontiers of Sweden, it ill befits you to offer me so niggardly a sum, and it would ill befit me to accept it. For if this were to become known, your good name might suffer.”
“It is possible that you are right in what you say,” said Gudmund doubtfully. “How much would you give if you were in my place?”
“I have known men who would have given fifteen marks in return for such a service,” said Orm. “Styrbjörn would have given no less; and Thorkel would give twelve. On the other hand, I know some men who would not give anything. But I have no wish to sway your own judgment in this matter; and, whatever the outcome, we shall remain good friends.”
“It is not easy for a man to be sure just how famous he is,” said Gudmund, troubled; and he went his way buried in calculation.
The following Sunday they were all baptized in the great church. Most of the priests were anxious that the ceremony should be performed in the river, as had been customary in former times when heathens were baptized in London; but both Gudmund and Orm asserted vigorously that there was to be no immersion as far as they were concerned. The two chieftains walked at the head of the procession, with their heads bared, wearing long white cloaks with a red cross sewn on the front of each; and their men followed, also wearing white cloaks, as many as there were enough for in so large a company. All of them carried their weapons, for Orm and Gudmund had explained that they seldom liked to be parted from their swords, and least of all when they were in a foreign land. The King himself sat in the choir, and the church was thronged with people. Ylva was among the congregation. Orm was unwilling to let her show herself in public, for she now appeared to him more beautiful than ever, and he feared lest someone might steal her away. But she had insisted on coming to the church, because, she said, she was curious to see how reverently Orm would conduct himself when the cold water started running down his neck. She sat next to Brother Willibald, who kept a close eye on her and restrained her when she would have laughed at the white cloaks; and Bishop Poppo was also present and assisted with the rites, though he felt exceedingly feeble. He himself baptized Orm, and the Bishop of London Gudmund; then six priests took over from them and baptized the rest of the Vikings as expeditiously as possible.
When the ceremony was over, Gudmund and Orm were received privately by the King. He gave each of them a gold ring and expressed the hope that God would bless all their future enterprises; also, he said, he trusted that they would, in the near future, come and see his bears, which had now begun to show a marked improvement in their dancing.
The next day the silver was paid out by the King’s scribes and treasurers to all the baptized men, which caused great jubilation among them. Orm’s men were somewhat less jubilant than the others, because each of them had to pay his chieftain a penny; none of them, however, chose the less expensive alternative of challenging him to combat.
“With the help of these contributions, I shall build a church in Skania,” said Orm as he stowed the money safely away in his chest.
Then he put fifteen marks in a purse and went with it to the Bishop of London, who, in return, bestowed a special blessing upon him. Later that afternoon Gudmund came aboard carrying the same purse in his hand, very drunk and in capital spirits. He said that all his share of the money had now been counted and stored away, and that, all in all, it had been an excellent day’s work.
“I have been thinking over what you said the other day,” he continued, “and I have come to the conclusion that you were right in saying that five marks would be too paltry a sum for a man of my reputation to give you as a reward for the service you rendered me. Take, instead, these fifteen marks. Now that Styrbjörn is dead, I do not think I can be valued at less.”
Orm said that such generosity was more than he could have anticipated; however, he said, he would not refuse such a gift, seeing that it came from the hand of so great a man. In return he gave Gudmund his Andalusian shield, the same with which he had fought Sigtrygg in King Harald’s hall.
Ylva said she was glad to see that Orm had a good head for collecting silver, for it was not a task at which she would shine, and she thought it likely that they would have a good number of mouths to care for in the years to come.
That evening Orm and Ylva visited Bishop Poppo and bade him farewell; for they were eager to sail for home as soon as possible. Ylva wept, for she found it hard to part from the Bishop, whom she called her second father: and his eyes, too, filled with tears.
“Were I less feeble,” he said, “I would come with you, for I think I could, even now, perform some useful work in Skania, old as I am. But these poor bones can endure no further hardships.”
“You have a good servant in Willibald,” said Orm, “and both Ylva and I delight in his company. Perhaps he could come with us, if you yourself cannot, to fortify us in our beliefs and to persuade others to do as we have done. Though I fear he is not greatly enamored of us Northmen.”
The Bishop said that Willibald was the wisest of his priests and a most zealous worker. “I know of nobody more skillful at converting heathens,” he said, “though, in his own zealous enthusiasm, he is occasionally prone to be somewhat uncharitable toward the sins and weaknesses of others. I think it best that we should ask him his own feelings in the matter; for I do not wish to send an unwilling priest with you.”
Brother Willibald was summoned, and the Bishop informed him what they had in mind. Brother Willibald asked, in vexed tones, when they were intending to sail. Orm replied that he wished to depart on the morrow if the wind remained favorable.
Brother Willibald shook his head gloomily. “It is ungracious of you to give me so little time to prepare myself,” he said. “I must take many salves and medicines with me when I depart for the shores of night and violence. But with God’s good help, and if I make haste, everything shall be ready; for I am loath to be parted from you young people.”
CHAPTER FOUR
HOW BROTHER WILLIBALD TAUGHT KING SVEN A MAXIM FROM THE SCRIPTURES
ORM
went to Gudmund and bade him greet Thorkel from him and tell him that he would not be rejoining the army, as he was sailing for home. Gudmund was grieved at this news and tried to persuade him to change his mind, but Orm said that his recent luck had been too good to last much longer.
“I have nothing more to perform in this land,” he said, “and if you had such a woman as Ylva with you, would you house her among an army of idle soldiers whose tongues slobber out of their mouths at every woman they see? My sword would never be in its sheath, and it is my wish to live with her in peace. And that is her wish also.”
Gudmund admitted that Ylva was a woman fit to tempt any man who caught the briefest glimpse of her to wander from the path of discretion. He himself, he added, would like, if he could, to sail home to Bravik without further delay, for it made him uneasy to have so much silver about him. But this he could not do, for he must return to the rest of his men whom he had left at Maldon and must, besides, tell Thorkel and Jostein what agreement they had come to regarding the distribution of the silver.
“My men here are being plundered by quick-witted women,” he said, “who swarm like flies round their silver and steal it from their very belts and breeches, once they have made them sufficiently drunk. Therefore I think it best that I should row down the river with you today, if I can get my crew assembled in time.”
They went to King Ethelred and his Archbishop to bid them farewell, and saw the bears dance miraculously on their hind legs. Then they ordered the horns to be blown, and the men took their places at the oars, where many of them performed very clumsily at first as the result of fatigue and drunkenness. They made swift progress down the river, however, and this time the watch-ships did not bar their path, though there was a lively exchange of repartee between the crews. They spent the night at anchor in the estuary. Then Gudmund and Orm parted and went their separate ways.
Ylva was a good sailor; nevertheless, she hoped that the sea voyage would not take too long, for she found it very cramped in the ship. Orm comforted her by assuring her that the weather was usually good at this time of the year and would not be likely to delay them.
“The only detour we shall need to make,” he said, “will be to a certain hill near Jellinge; and that should not take us long.”
Ylva was not sure whether it would be a wise thing to try to regain the necklace now, since nobody knew what the situation was in Jutland or even who sat upon the throne at Jellinge. But Orm said that he wanted to get this business settled by the time he reached home.
“And, whoever sits at Jellinge,” he added, “whether it be King Sven or King Erik, I do not think it likely that we shall find him there at this time of the year, when all kings like to fight. We will steal ashore at night, and if all goes well, nobody need know that we have come.”
Brother Willibald enjoyed being at sea, though it disappointed him that nobody fell ill during the voyage. He liked especially to squat beside Rapp when the latter was at the steering-oar and to ply him with questions concerning the southland and the adventures he had had there; and though Rapp was somewhat scant in his replies, these two seemed to be becoming good friends.
They rounded the Jutland cape and headed southwards, encountering no other ships; but then the wind turned against them, so that they had much hard rowing to do, and on one occasion they had to seek the shelter of the coast and wait for the gale to lessen. It was night as they rowed up toward the mouth of the river below Jellinge, but the sky had already begun to grow green with dawn when Orm finally beached the ship, some distance below the castle. He told Brother Willibald, Rapp, and two good men from the crew to follow him; but he bade Ylva to remain on board. She was unwilling to obey, but he said that it was to be so.
“In such matters as this, it is I who shall decide,” he said, “whatever may be the case later. Brother Willibald knows the place as well as you do; and, if we should encounter anyone and there should be fighting, which is possible now that it is growing light, it will be better that you should be here. We shall not be gone for long.”
They walked up from the beach in the direction of the castle, proceeding across the fields that lay on its southern side. Brother Willibald was just remarking that they had almost reached the place when, suddenly, they heard the tramp of feet and men’s voices coming from the bridge away to their left and saw a herd of cattle approaching them, driven by several men.
“It will be safest to kill these fellows,” said Rapp, weighing a spear in his hand.
But Brother Willibald grabbed him by the arm and forbade him vehemently to use any violence toward men who had done him no harm. Orm agreed and said that, if they made haste, there should be no need for bloodshed.
So they began to run toward the rise. The cowherds stopped and stared at them in amazement.
“Whose men are you?” they shouted.
“King Harald’s,” replied Orm.
“The little priest!” shrieked one of the herdsmen. “It is the little priest who used to attend King Harald! These men are enemies! Run and rouse the castle!”
Rapp and the two men with him sprang immediately in pursuit of the herdsmen, but the cattle blocked their path, so that the others got a good lead. Meanwhile Orm ran to the rise with Brother Willibald, who at once showed him the place where the three stones lay. Orm heaved the topmost one aside; and there, beneath it, lay the necklace, just as Ylva had hidden it.
“Now we shall have to show our paces,” he said as he thrust it into his shirt.
Shouts and alarums could now be heard from the castle; and when they reached Rapp and his men, they found him cursing himself for having failed to stop the herdsmen from giving the alarm. In his anger he had flung his spear at one of them, who, as a result, was now lying outside the great gate.
“But it served little purpose,” he said, “and now I have lost a good spear.”
They raced as fast as they could across the fields toward the ship. Very soon, however, they heard loud whoops behind them, and the pounding of hoofs. Rapp was a sharp-sighted man with his one eye, and he and Orm glanced back over their shoulders as they ran.
“Here comes King Sven himself,” muttered Orm. “That is no mean honor.”
“And in a hurry,” said Rapp, “for he has forgotten to plait his beard.”
Brother Willibald was not so young as the others; nevertheless, he sprinted along nimbly, with his cassock lifted high above his knees.
“Now is our chance!” cried Orm. “Mark them with your spears!”
As he spoke, he stopped in his tracks, turned, and flung his spear at the foremost of the pursuers, a man on a big horse who was galloping just in front of King Sven. When the man saw the spear winging toward him, he pulled his horse back on its hind legs. The spear buried itself deeply in the animal’s chest, causing it to topple forwards and roll over, crushing its rider beneath it. Rapp’s men cast their spears at King Sven, but failed to hit him; and now he was almost upon them, and they had no spears left with which to defend themselves.
Brother Willibald bent down, picked up a large stone, and flung it with all his might.
“Love thy neighbor!” he grunted as it left his hand.
The stone struck King Sven full on the mouth with a loud smack. With a howl of agony, he crumpled on the horse’s mane and slithered to the ground.
“That is what I call a good priest,” said Rapp.
The rest of their pursuers crowded round King Sven where he lay on the ground, so that Orm and his men managed to reach the ship unscathed, though somewhat short of breath. Orm cried to the rowers to begin pulling at once, while he and the others were still wading out from the shore. They were dragged aboard and had come a good way from the shore before the first horseman appeared at the water’s edge. The wind had sprung up again in the gray dawn twilight and was favorable to them, so that, using both sail and oars, they managed to come swiftly out into the sea.
Orm gave the necklace to Ylva and told her of all that had happened to them; and
even Rapp was less scant of speech than usual as he praised the excellence of the little priest’s throw.
“I hope he felt it,” said Ylva.
“There was blood on his mouth as he fell,” said Rapp. “I saw it clearly.”
“Little priest,” said Ylva, “I have a mind to kiss you for striking that blow.”
Orm laughed. “That is what I have always been most afraid of,” he said, “that you would become enamored of priests in your piety.”
Brother Willibald protested vehemently that he had no wish to be kissed; nevertheless, he appeared to be not altogether displeased at the praises that were being showered upon him.
“That kiss that King Sven received he will not soon forget,” said Orm, “and it is not his habit to leave such things unavenged. When we reach home, if we do so safely, my mother will have to pack with speed, for I think it will be safest for us to depart into the forests, where no king ventures. And there I shall build my church.”
And of Orm’s subsequent adventures in the forest country far north toward the border, the story also shall be told; of his zeal for Christianity, and Brother Willibald’s triumphs of conversion; of the opposition they encountered from the Smalanders, and their feuds with them; and of how the wild oxen returned to the land.
PART THREE
In the Border Country
CHAPTER ONE
HOW ORM BUILT HIS HOUSE AND CHURCH AND HOW THEY NAMED HIS RED-HAIRED DAUGHTERS
THREE years had passed since Orm, after selling in haste his father’s house on the Mound in order to flee from the wrath of King Sven, had toiled up to the border country with all his household, his wife and mother, his servants, and his little priest, his horses and cattle and as much silver and valuables as his beasts could carry. The estate that Asa had inherited from her father in the border country was called Gröning; but for some years now it had been a neglected wilderness of sagging roofs and overgrown fields, inhabited only by an ancient and infirm bailiff, his wife, and a gaggle of scrawny geese. Orm found little to be enthusiastic about when he saw the place, and thought it a poor homestead for a man of his quality and for a woman who was King Harald’s daughter; and Asa ran to and fro weeping and calling to God in her misery, and inveighing violently against the old couple; for she had not visited the place since the days when she had been a girl and her father had lived there in wealth and prosperity, before he and his two sons had been killed in a feud.
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