The men were called Ullbjörn and Greip. They were young, long-faced, and flaxen-haired, and a man had only to look at them to tell that they were strong; but as regards intelligence, they were less fortunately equipped. From their speech it could be heard that they came from a distant part of the country; they said they had been born in a land far beyond West Guteland, called Iron-Bearing Land, where the men were as strong as the bears, with whom they would often wrestle for amusement. But a great famine had afflicted their land, and so they had left it and journeyed southwards in the hope of reaching a country where they would be able to find enough to eat. They had worked on many farms and estates in West Guteland and Smaland. When food began to become scanty, they explained, they killed their employer and went on.
Orm thought that they must have worked for a tame lot of masters if they had allowed themselves to be killed as easily as that, but the men stared earnestly at him and bade him take good note of what they had said.
“For, if we become hungry, we go berserk, and no man can withstand us. But if we get enough food, we conduct ourselves peaceably and do whatever our master bids us. For we are made that way.”
“Food you shall have,” said Orm, “as much as you want; if you are such good workers as you claim to be, you will be worth all the food you can eat. But be sure of this, that if you enjoy going berserk, you have come to the wrong place here, for I have no patience with berserks.”
They gazed at him with thoughtful eyes and asked how long it was until the midday meal.
“We are already beginning to feel hungry,” they said.
As fortune had it, the midday meal was just due to be served. The two newcomers set to with a will and ate so greedily that everyone watched them in amazement.
“You have both eaten enough for three men,” said Orm. “And now I want to see each of you do two men’s work, at the very least.”
“That you shall,” they replied, “for this was a meal that suited us well.”
Orm began by setting them to dig a well and soon had to admit that they had not exaggerated their worth, for they quickly dug a good well, broad and deep and lined from top to bottom with stone. The children stood and watched them work; the men said nothing, but it was noticeable that their eyes often turned toward Ludmilla. She showed no fear of them and asked them how it was with men when they went berserk, but received no reply to this question.
When they had completed this task, Orm told them to build a good boathouse down by the river; and this, too, they did quickly and well. Ylva forbade her daughters to go near them while they were working there, for, she said, one could never be sure what such half-trolls as they might not suddenly do.
When the boathouse was ready, Orm set them to clean the cowshed. All the cows were at pasture, and only the bull was left in the shed, he being too evil-tempered to be allowed loose. A whole winter’s droppings lay in the pens, so that UllbjÖrn and Greip had several days’ stiff work ahead of them.
The children and all the house-folk felt somewhat afraid of the two men, because of their strength and strangeness. Ullbjörn and Greip never had much to say to anyone; only sometimes, when they were spoken to, they told briefly of feats of strength they had performed, and how they had strangled men who had not given them enough to eat, or had broken their backs with their bare hands.
“Nobody can withstand us when we are angry,” they said. “But here we get enough to eat and are content. So long as things continue thus, nobody has anything to fear from us.”
Ludmilla was the only one not afraid of them, and several times went to watch them work in the cowshed, sometimes accompanied by her brothers and sisters and sometimes alone. When she was there, the men kept their eyes fixed on her; and although she was young, she understood well what they were thinking.
One day when she was there alone with them, Greip said: “You are the sort of girl I could fancy.”
“I, too,” said Ullbjörn.
“I should like to play with you in the hay,” said Greip, “if you are not afraid to do so with me.”
“I can play better than Greip,” said Ullbjörn.
Ludmilla laughed. “Do you both like me?” she said. “That is a pity. For I am a virgin, and of royal blood, and not to be bedded by any chance vagabond. But I think I prefer one of you to the other.”
“Is it me?” said Greip, throwing aside his shovel.
“Is it me?” asked Ullbjörn, dropping his broom.
“I like best,” said Ludmilla, “whichever of you is the stronger. It would be interesting to know which that is.”
Both the men were now hot with desire. They glared silently at each other.
“I may perchance,” added Ludmilla softly, “allow the stronger man to sit with me for a short while down by the river.”
At this they straightway began to growl fearfully like werewolves and seized hold of each other. They appeared to be of equal strength, and neither could gain an ascendance. The beams and walls shook as they stumbled against them. Ludmilla went to the door to be out of their way.
As she was standing there, Orm came up.
“What is that noise?” he asked her. “What are they doing in there?”
Ludmilla turned to him and smiled. “Fighting,” she said.
“Fighting?” said Orm, taking a step toward her. “What about?”
“Me,” replied Ludmilla happily. “Perhaps this is what they call going berserk.”
Then she scampered fearfully away, for she saw a look on Orm’s face that was new to her, and understood that a great anger had come over him.
An old broom was leaning against the wall. Orm wrenched the shaft out of its socket, and this was the only weapon he had as he strode in, slamming the door behind him. Then his voice was audible above the snarling of the men, and for a moment all was silence in the shed. But almost at once the snarling broke out afresh and with redoubled violence. The servant-girls came out into the yard and stood there listening, but nobody felt inclined to open the cowshed door to see what was happening inside. Someone shouted for Rapp and his ax, but he was nowhere to be found. Then one of the doors flew open and the bull rushed forth in terror, with its halter hanging loose about its neck, and fled into the forest. Everyone shrieked aloud at this sight; and now Ludmilla began to be afraid and to cry, for she feared she had started something bigger than she had intended.
At length the uproar ceased and there was silence. Orm walked out, panting for breath, and wiped his arm across his brow. He was limping, his clothes were torn, and part of one of his cheek-beards had been wrenched away. The servant-girls ran up to him with anxious cries and questions. He looked at them and said that they need not lay a place for Ullbjörn or Greip at supper that evening.
“Nor tomorrow, neither,” he added. “But how it is with this leg of mine I do not know.”
He limped into the house to have his injury examined by Ylva and the priest.
Inside the cowshed all was disorder, and the two berserks were lying across each other in one corner. Greip had the sharp end of the broomstick through his throat, and Ullbjörn’s tongue was hanging out of his mouth. They were both dead.
Ludmilla was afraid that she would now be birched, and Ylva thought she had deserved it for having gone in alone to the two berserks. But Orm pleaded for her to be treated leniently, so that she escaped more lightly than she had thought possible; and she described what had happened before the fight in such a manner that they agreed that no blame could be attached to her. Orm was not displeased with the incident, once Father Willibald had examined his leg and declared the injury to be slight; for though he was now certain that Gudmund of Uvaberg had offered him the two men in the hope of gaining his revenge, he was well pleased with his feat of having overpowered two berserks singlehanded and without the help of any proper weapon.
“You did wisely, Ludmilla,” he said, “to turn them against each other when they would have molested you, for I am not sure that even I could have defeated th
em if they had not already tired each other somewhat. My advice, therefore, Ylva, is that she shall not be birched, though it was rash of her to go in to them alone. For she is too young to understand the thoughts that are liable to enter men’s heads when they look at her.”
Ylva shook her head doubtfully at this, but allowed Orm to have his way.
“This affair has turned out well,” he said. “Nobody can deny that these two ruffians have done good work since they arrived here. I now have a well, a boathouse, and more honor to my name, and Gudmund has been well snubbed for his pains. So everything is as it should be. But I will take care to let him know that if he provokes me again, I shall pay him a visit that he will not forget.”
“I will come with you,” said Blackhair earnestly; he had been sitting listening to their conversation.
“You are too small to wear a sword,” said Orm.
“I have the ax Rapp forged for me,” he replied. “He says there are not many axes with a sharper edge than mine.”
Orm and Ylva laughed, but Father Willibald shook his head frowningly and said it was a bad thing to hear such talk from a Christian child.
“I must tell you again, Blackhair,” he said, “what you have already heard me say five, if not ten times, that you should think less about weapons and more about learning the prayer called Pater Noster, which I have so often explained to you and begged you to learn. Your brother Harald could recite that prayer by the time he was seven, and you are now twelve and still do not know it.”
“Harald can say it for us both,” retorted Blackhair boldly. “I am in no hurry to learn priest-talk.”
So time passed at Gröning, and little of note occurred; and Orm felt well content to sit there peacefully until his days should end. But a year after he killed the berserks, he received tidings that sent him forth upon the third of his long voyages.
CHAPTER TWO
CONCERNING THE MAN FROM THE EAST
OLOF SUMMERBIRD came riding to Gröning with ten followers and was warmly welcomed. He stayed there three days, for the friendship between him and Orm was great. The purpose of his journey, however, was, he said, to ride down to the east coast to Kivik to buy salt from the Gotland traders who often anchored there. When Orm heard this, he decided to go with him on the same errand.
As things now were, salt was scarcely procurable, however large a price people might be willing to pay for it, thanks to King Sven Forkbeard of Denmark and the luck that attended all his enterprises. For King Sven was now ranging the sea with larger fleets than any man had heard tell of before, laying violent hands on any ship that crossed his path. He had plundered Hedeby and sacked it, and was reported to have laid waste all the country of the Frisians; it was known, moreover, that he had a mind to conquer the whole of England and as much more as he had time for. Trade and merchandise interested him not at all, but only long ships and sworded men; and things had come to such a pass that of late no salt-ships had come from the west, because they no longer dared to brave the northern waters. So no salt was procurable except that which the Gothlanders brought from Wendland, and this was bought up so eagerly by the coastal dwellers that little or none ever found its way inland.
Orm took eight men with him and rode with Olof Summerbird down to Kivik. There they waited for several days in the hope that a ship might soon arrive, while many people gathered there from all parts on the same errand. At last two Gotland ships were sighted. They were heavily laden and dropped anchor a good way outside the harbor. For the hunger for salt had become so great that the Gothlanders now drove their trade cautiously, to avoid being killed by overzealous customers. Their ships were large, high-gunwaled, and well manned, and anyone who wanted to buy from them had to row out in small boats, from which they were only allowed aboard two at a time.
Olof Summerbird and Orm hired a fishing-boat and were pulled out to the ships. They wore red cloaks and polished helmets. Olof grumbled at the smallness of the boat, for he had wanted to be rowed out in greater state. When their turn arrived, they climbed aboard the ship, which bore a chieftain’s standard, and as they did so, their rowers, one of Orm’s men and one of Olof’s, cried out their names in a loud voice, so that the Gothlanders might understand at once that they were now being honored by a visit from chieftains.
“Olof Styrsson the Magnificent, Chieftain of the Finnvedings, whom many call Olof Summerbird,” cried one.
“Orm Tostesson the Far-Traveled, Chieftain of the Sea, whom most men call Red Orm,” cried the other.
There was murmuring among the Gothlanders when these names were heard, and some of the men came forward to greet them; for there were several in the ship who had known Olof in the Eastland, and others who had sailed with Thorkel the Tall to England and remembered Orm from that campaign.
A man was seated by the gunwale, near to the point where they had come aboard. Suddenly he began to moan excitedly and stretched out one of his arms toward them. He was a large man with a matted beard, which was beginning to grow gray; across his face he wore a broad bandage covering his eyes, and as he stretched his right arm toward Orm and Olof, they could see that the hand had been severed at the wrist.
“Look at the blind man,” said the Gothlanders. “There is something he wishes to say.”
“He seems to know one of you,” said the ship’s captain. “Besides what you can see, he has also lost his tongue, so that he cannot speak; nor do we know who he is. He was led aboard by a merchant from the East, while we were at anchor trading with the Kures, at the mouth of the river Dvina. The merchant told us that this man wished to go to Skania. He had silver to pay for his passage, so I accepted him. He understands what is said to him and, after much questioning, I have discovered that his family lives in Skania. But more than that I do not know, not even his name.”
“Tongue, eyes, and right hand,” said Olof Summerbird thoughtfully. “Surely it is the Byzantines who have treated him thus.”
The blind man nodded eagerly.
“I am Olof Styrsson of Finnveden, and have served in the bodyguard of the Emperor Basil at Miklagard. Is it I whom you know?”
The blind man shook his head.
“Then perhaps it is I,” said Orm, “though I cannot guess who you may be. I am Orm, the son of Toste, the son of Thorgrim, who lived at Grimstad on the Mound. Do you know me?”
At this the blind man nodded several times excitedly, and sounds came from his throat.
“Were you with us when we sailed to Spain with Krok? Or to England with Thorkel the Tall?”
But to both these questions the stranger shook his head. Orm stood deep in thought.
“Are you yourself from the Mound?” he asked.
The man nodded again and began to tremble.
“It is a long while since I left those parts,” said Orm. “But if you know me, it may be that we were neighbors there. Have you been abroad for many years?”
The blind man nodded slowly and heaved a deep sigh. He raised the hand that was left to him, spread the fingers wide, and closed his fist again. He did this five times and then held up four fingers.
“This conversation goes better than one would have supposed possible,” said Olof Summerbird. “By this, if I understand him aright, he means that he had been abroad for twenty-nine years.”
The blind man nodded.
“Twenty-nine years,” said Orm reflectively. “That means that I was thirteen when you left. I ought to remember if anyone left our district for the East around that time.”
The blind man had risen to his feet and was standing in front of Orm. His lips were moving, and he gestured with his hand as though beseeching Orm to remember quickly who he was.
Suddenly Orm said, in a changed voice: “Are you my brother Are?”
Into the blind man’s face there came a kind of smile. He nodded his head slowly; then he tottered on his feet, sank down on his bench, and sat there trembling in every limb.
Everyone in the ship was amazed at this encounter and thought he
had witnessed an incident worth recounting to other men. Orm stood staring thoughtfully at the blind man.
“I should be lying if I said that I recognize you,” he said, “for it is a long while since last I saw you, and in the meantime you have changed cruelly. But you shall now ride home with me, and there you will find someone who will straightway recognize you if you are the man you claim to be. For our old mother is still alive, and often speaks of you. Surely it is God Himself who has steered your steps, so that, despite your blindness, you have found your way home to me and her.”
Orm and Olof now began to bargain with the Gothlanders for salt. They were both amazed at the great meanness that the Gothlanders showed as soon as they turned to any question of business. Many of the crew owned shares in the ship and her cargo, and they all proved to be birds of a feather, merry and friendly when other matters were being discussed, but as sharp as knives when it came to striking a bargain.
“We force no man to act against his will,” they said, “concerning salt or anything else; but anyone who comes to buy our wares must either pay our price or go without. We are richer than other men, and intend to grow richer still; for we Gothlanders are cleverer than the run of mankind. We do not rob or kill like most men, but increase our wealth by honorable trading; and we know better than you what salt is worth just now. All honor to good King Sven, who has enabled us to raise our prices!”
“I should not regard any man who praises King Sven as clever,” said Orm bitterly. “I think it would be easier to get justice from pirates and murderers than from such men as you.”
“Men often speak thus of us,” said the Gothlanders, “but they do us injustice. Look at your unfortunate brother here, whom you found in our ship. He has silver in his belt, and not a little; but none of us has taken any of it, save only what we originally demanded for his passage and food-money. Other men would have taken his belt and flung him into the sea; but we are honorable men, though it is true that many think otherwise. But if he had been carrying gold, he would have been less safe, for no man can withstand the temptation of gold.”
The Long Ships Page 47