by Terry Jones
But just then they heard a noise like thunder below them, even louder than the roaring of the whirlpool, and they looked down in wonder and saw the ocean bed itself opening up as if to receive them. And down they went into the very rock beneath the sea, and they heard it close up again above them, and for a moment they were in pitch darkness.
Neither Erik nor Ragnar Forkbeard nor Sven the Strong nor any of the others had the stomach to utter so much as a single sound. But the blind Thorkhild said, ‘Dark or light makes no difference now to me … but I feel a fire burning somewhere in this dank coldness …’
‘How can that be?’ shivered Erik’s men.
But Ragnar Forkbeard said, ‘Wait! What is that?’ and sure enough, they began to make out a glow in the pitch darkness coming from the stern of Golden Dragon. Ragnar Forkbeard ran towards it, and for a moment all went black again, but then he turned and they could see, lying upon his sword, a glowing ember.
‘I do not know whether I dare to believe this,’ whispered Erik. ‘But can it be that the Starsword did not desert us after all – but fell here on board Golden Dragon and has lain hidden here ever since?’
‘Give it to me,’ said Thorkhild, and Ragnar Forkbeard passed the blade to him. Then the others brought lamps and candles and lit them from the glowing ember of the Starsword.
Now their flickering torches lit up the darkness beneath the sea bed, and they saw they were in a great chamber cut out of black rock, and there was a banqueting table and chairs all made of the same material. And at the far end of the chamber was a black throne, over which hung a canopy of black, and on the throne slouched a being – black from head to toe, with two beady yellow eyes glaring at them.
‘Who or what is this?’ whispered Erik’s men, one to the other. ‘Where are we?’
The black creature on the throne put out a black claw and beckoned to Erik.
Erik stepped forward, a burning torch in one hand, the other hand upon his sword. ‘Who are you?’ he said. But the slippery black being did not reply. Only its yellow eyes blinked once, and Erik felt strangely fearful in the pit of his stomach.
‘What do you want with me?’ he asked. But the black creature merely trickled to its feet like quicksilver poured into a phial, and once again beckoned to Erik. Then it turned and slid towards a door in the black chamber, and Erik followed, with one fearful glance back at his companions, who stood there beneath their torches and candles as if frozen to the spot.
As Erik stepped through the door he felt a gust of wind on his face, and it felt like the wind that blows the moon through the sky at night … an old wind … cold as the grave … and Erik shuddered. He found himself in a great high hall hung around with strange pictures – grim scenes of evil and destruction – and at the far end of the hall was a figure in a black cloak sitting at a game of chess …
‘Don’t go!’ whispered a voice at his elbow, and Erik turned to find Ragnar Forkbeard gazing earnestly into his eyes. ‘You cannot win against such an opponent.’
‘I must go,’ replied Erik. ‘I accepted the challenge and now I must play one game of chess with Death.’
And at these words the black creature seemed to dissolve and pour itself like black treacle from a jar into a long streak that froze into a shining black walkway that ran the length of the great hall. And before Ragnar Forkbeard could stop him, Erik was striding along the ebony path towards that grim figure hunched over the chess board.
‘I have come!’ said Erik. ‘Here I am to play with you when you will, Death.’ And Erik stood there in the silence of the great hall under the sea bed, and waited as the figure rose and slowly turned to face him.
The moment it did so, Erik turned pale and his knees trembled. His head spun, and he felt a wind again upon his face – only this time it felt like the wind that blew on his face when he was a child, watching the great ships leave the harbour at Drangar in Hornstrands, and his mother was waving goodbye with tears in her eyes. For, although the face that turned upon him was thin and hollow as a skull, it was not Death.
‘Can it be really you, Erik?’ said a cracked voice.
And all Erik could say was, ‘Yes, Father.’
BLUEBLADE
HOW LONG THEY STOOD there staring at each other, Erik and his father, I don’t know. But sooner or later they embraced each other, and tears poured down their cheeks.
‘We thought you were dead many, many years ago,’ cried Erik.
‘And so I should have been,’ replied his father, ‘for our ship was caught in a terrible tempest just when we were in sight of land, and was likely to have foundered with all on board, so I made a bargain with the Old Man of the Sea that I would come and keep him company beneath the waves, if he would spare the lives of my companions. But then he locked me in this dungeon, and I have dwelt here ever since. It has been a living death here beneath the ocean floor, and many times I cursed that day I made the deal, but there was nothing I could do, and nothing could release me – except one thing, and one thing only.’
‘What was that?’ asked Erik.
‘You,’ replied his father.
‘Me?’ said Erik.
‘This was the Old Man of the Sea’s curse: that I should languish here forever, unless my son should find the goal that all men seek. And I had little hope that the small child I had left behind with his mother on the harbour wall would ever discover such a thing, and so I resigned myself to an eternity of despair – yet now here you are!’
‘But I have not found such a goal!’ cried Erik.
Just then there was a cry from the door, and there stood Thorkhild … the blind Thorkhild … though his eyes seemed to be almost glowing with some strange light.
‘But you have!’ he cried. ‘It is what we have all discovered during this long voyage. Do you not remember the Starsword’s song?’
‘I remember the Starsword’s song,’ said Erik, and he turned back to his father and said: ‘When we set sail, we thought we were seeking the land where the sun goes at night, but when we got there we found it wasn’t what we were searching for at all …’
‘And so often it is the case,’ replied his father. ‘We find that our true goal lies within ourselves and in what we do, and not in the things we think we are looking for.’
The ember of the Starsword seemed to glow redder as he spoke, and Erik replied, ‘Then the Starsword’s song was true: our quest has been our goal …’
At these words there was a sound of oceans rushing together, and there stood the Old Man of the Sea in a swirling pillar of water, seething with rage.
‘Erik the Viking!’ he cried, waving his arm with its missing hand, ‘You have tricked me twice before, but you shall not trick me a third time! You think you’ll save your father, do you? Very well, you shall … but beware! For if you take him away from me, your men, Erik, shall stay to keep me company! And whichever of them tries to pass back through my kingdom of the icy waters shall perish!’
And as he spoke a swirling wall of water shot up between Erik and his father, and another between Erik and Thorkhild and Ragnar Forkbeard and the others.
‘The choice is yours!’ screamed the Old Man of the Sea, and he laughed a laugh like an ocean storm, and the pillar of water poured itself up into the ceiling of the hall, and the Old Man of the Sea was gone too.
Then Erik stood alone in his dilemma, turning over in his mind the choice before him. What should he do? Should he save his father, who had lain beneath the bottom of the sea so long, and let his comrades perish? Or save his comrades and leave his father in despair for eternity.
‘Do not hesitate!’ shouted Erik’s father. ‘I am but one man – save your comrades!’
‘But we can help each other!’ shouted Ragnar Forkbeard, from behind the other wall of water. ‘Save your father, and we’ll find some way out!’
But Erik turned from one to the other and said, ‘I shall not leave this hideous place without each and every one of you.’ And he put his hand to his hip and drew his s
word, Blueblade. ‘The Old Man of the Sea can stop us returning back, up through his kingdom of the icy waters if he wants,’ cried Erik, ‘but he shall not keep us imprisoned in this dungeon here.’
‘But how can we escape unless we return back up through his kingdom of the icy waters?’ cried Erik’s men. ‘There is no other way.’
‘There is one way!’ said Erik. ‘Thorkhild, throw me the Starsword.’
And Thorkhild threw the glowing ember through the wall of water, and as it flew it seemed to burn a hole in the waterwall. Then Erik quickly thrust the tip of Blueblade into the ember so that it stuck fast, and then he held Blueblade aloft, with the point glowing. And then it was that a most marvellous thing happened … the glowing ember seemed to burn brighter and fiercer than ever, and Blueblade began to tremble in Erik’s hand, and they heard a note – the same as they had heard when the Starsword had sung its song. And then Blueblade itself began to glow, and the note got louder and clearer and it seemed as if the ember then melted into Erik’s sword, and the two became one.
‘Erik!’ cried Thorkhild. ‘For a brief moment I held the most wonderful sword in my hands, and then I knew I could achieve that which I ought to achieve, but now my eyes are stones that see only endless night, and that power shall never again be mine. But look, Erik, you who can see, for I hear by that song that is now ringing in my ears that the Starsword is now yours. Erik, the Starsword has become your sword, Blueblade!’
At these words, Erik smote the rock floor beneath the two walls of water, so that a crevice opened up beneath each one, and the water poured away down it. Then Erik took his sword, Blueblade, and struck the wall of the chamber, and the sword embedded itself up to the hilt in the solid rock. As the companions watched, they saw the handle of Blueblade turning, as if a huge invisible hand were cutting a large circle in the rock. As the sword completed the circle, the rock within it crumbled into dust, and a wind swept through the chamber and blew it into a mist so that no one could see for a few moments.
When the mist settled, they saw Blueblade had disappeared down a long tunnel it was cutting itself through the solid rock of the sea bed.
‘We cannot return up through the Old Man of the Sea’s kingdom of the icy waves,’ said Erik, ‘but down here in this rock he has no power. This is our way home.’
And he led his father and his companions down the tunnel that Blueblade cut and, in the distance, high above them, they heard the Old Man of the Sea roaring with rage, for he had been out-witted for the third time.
HOW ERiK RETURNED HOME
AND SO ERIK AND his men returned home, following the tunnel that Blueblade cut under the sea-bed and then up to the surface. And when at last they stepped up into the sunlight, and saw that they were indeed on the shore of their own land, they kissed the ground, and gave thanks that they had returned – safe after so many adventures.
In the distance they saw smoke curling up from over a hill, and Erik’s father said, ‘Is that the very village I left so long ago?’ and the tears came to his eyes. And as they looked they could hear – faintly in the distance – the early morning sounds of the village awakening … cows lowing, dogs barking … and each of them laughed inside himself with joy to think of the surprise and happiness that they would bring with their arrival.
So without more ado they set off towards their home, but they had taken no more than a couple of steps when Erik stopped dead in his tracks.
‘Let’s hurry!’ cried Sven the Strong. ‘I cannot wait to see how my children have grown!’
But Ragnar Forkbeard looked at Erik and asked: ‘What is it, Erik?’
‘Is it him?’ whispered the blind Thorkhild.
‘Yes,’ said Erik, and he pointed to a dark figure sitting upon a rocky crag that overhung the wild sea. ‘Death is waiting for his game of chess.’
Then the comrades clustered around Erik. They begged him at least to show himself at home, before he went to meet Death. But Erik turned away from them, and said, ‘I must go. I have no choice.’
‘Nobody can win a single game against Death,’ cried Sven the Strong. ‘Don’t go, Erik!’ But Erik was already striding across the shore towards the rocky crag where Death sat waiting.
‘Here I am, Death,’ said Erik. And Death turned the board so that the white pieces were in front of Erik.
‘Are you not frightened of losing?’ asked Death.
‘I am not afraid of you,’ said Erik. ‘And whether I win or lose, I enjoy a game of chess – so let us begin!’ And he moved a white pawn, and Death moved his queen’s knight.
So they played, with the sea pounding against the crag below them, and the wind racing onto the shore and off towards the wild mountains that hung above them. And the sun climbed high into the sky, while Erik’s companions waited and watched from the distance. The sea roared and the wind blew, and still Erik and Death sat at their game on that rocky crag. Then the sun began to slip away towards the West, and still Erik and Death sat and played at chess.
‘Erik cannot win against such an opponent,’ grieved Erik’s father. But Thorkhild said, ‘Let us wait and see.’
Just then Death took one of Erik’s pawns, and looked into Erik’s eyes, and said, ‘Why do you play against me? You know you cannot win.’
And Erik replied, ‘I enjoy a game of chess. I’ll play against anyone who’ll play me,’ and he took Death’s castle.
Death looked angry, and there was a rumble of thunder on the horizon, and Erik thought he could hear the wolves of Wolf Mountain howling far across the seas.
‘I am Death,’ said Erik’s opponent. ‘Everyone lives in fear of me.’
‘You are wrong,’ said Erik. ‘To me you are like an old friend, and I’ve been quite looking forward to this little game,’ and he took Death’s other castle.
The sky went dark, and the thunder roared all along the shore, and echoed back against the mountains, and Erik thought, for a moment, he heard the gulls calling to each other as he had in the Talking Valley, and for another moment he thought he heard the ocean booming as it struck the crag, saying, ‘You cannot win!’ And the mountains echoed, ‘Win! Win! Win!’
‘I am Death,’ said Erik’s opponent. ‘All men are at my beck and call, and every man must come as and when I choose.’
‘Nonsense!’ said Erik. ‘A man may choose death at any instant he wants – for example, I have only to step off this crag if I choose – I do not need you to call me!’ and he took Death’s bishop.
Then a flash of lightning streaked across the sky, and seemed to strike the very mountains, and the crash of thunder drowned the roaring of the sea, and Erik’s men shivered with fear as the rain began to fall upon them.
And then Death took Erik’s queen, and said, ‘None shall escape me, Erik … neither you nor your father nor your men. Each and every one of you shall be mine. And nothing of you shall remain – do you hear – nothing!’
And Erik felt a shudder of cold go through his body as he stared at the board, but, even as he did, he heard a voice say, ‘You are wrong!’
Erik looked up and the breath left his body, and his heart stopped beating for an instant, as if Death were already snatching at him. But he blinked and looked again, and there sure enough was a third figure standing beside them on the rocky crag.
For a moment he thought it was his father grown miraculously young who was standing there. But it was not his father. The figure laughed, and as he laughed Erik suddenly recognised the fifteen-year-old son he had left behind so long ago, who had grown – while Erik was away – into a man.
‘Death, you old fool!’ said the boy. ‘Have you forgotten that I am Erik’s son, and though you may take him, I shall remain!’
‘I shall have you too!’ snarled Death. ‘For I hold dominion over Life itself!’
‘No, you don’t,’ replied Erik’s son, ‘for when I am gone, my son shall remain and then my son’s son and then his son and then his and then his … You may do what you want, Death, but you cannot destr
oy Life itself!’
And with that Death rose to his feet, knocked the chess board over so that the pieces scattered upon the crags, and turned to Erik, and growled, ‘We shall finish our game another time, you and I.’ There was a clap of thunder and a flash of lightning, and Death was gone. And Erik looked over the crag, and saw the chequered board floating on the wild waves below.
Then Erik embraced his son, and his father and his comrades gathered round, and together they returned home to the place where they were born.
When they arrived, Erik kissed his wife a thousand times, and she him. And his mother was reunited with his father.
Then Erik called everyone together and spoke: ‘We have faced the Dragon of the North Sea, we have three times tricked the Old Man of the Sea, we have been turned to stone, we have fought the Dogfighters, we have travelled across bitter snows, we have crossed Wolf Mountain, we have faced spirits and trolls, and the great bird of doubt, we have heard the Talking Valley, and we have been to the edge of the world and over it, we have visited the Secret Lake, and we have found the land where the sun goes at night … And all we have brought back are these four gifts of air, fire, earth and water …
‘The first is water,’ he said, and handed the giant’s jug to his wife. ‘Now we shall never go thirsty again. The second is earth.’ And he handed the golden moon to his father, and said: ‘With the wonderful earth in this moon we shall never go hungry again. The third is fire,’ he said, and he drew his sword, Blueblade, and handed it to his son, saying, ‘This has been my sword, now it is yours, and with it – as long as justice and truth are by your side – you will protect us from every enemy.’ Then Erik’s son held Blueblade high above his head, and the Starsword within started to sing, and it glowed like fire.