Poul Anderson

by The Golden Horn; The Road of the Sea Horse; The Sign of the Raven (epub)

  Up and down, up and down, slash, cut, and slew the edge about! Iron roared along the ranks. Through a blur of iron, Harald saw the banner of Earl Edwin flying above the helmets. For a wild moment he wanted to cut his way to it—but wait, hold fast and wait.

  Where he stood, men planted their feet in the reddened grass and gave blow for blow. Above their heads to the right, Harald saw Tosti's standard go back and Morkar's press forward. But the line held, the line held.

  He turned to hew at those before him. Time was lost in the rage of weapons. It was with a start that he heard the triumphant shouting of the Yorkshire-men and Northumbrians. A spear clawed after his throat as he faced about to see. Fridhrek held the flagstaff in his left hand; his right had a sword that cut the spearshaft in twain.

  Tosti was drawing his whole wing back, swiftly but with a skill that could only be measured from afar. Harald thought that the man against whom the outlaw fought was Morkar himself. The English on that side rushed forward, and it was no easy thing to retreat; the Norse right wavered raggedly, about to break.

  Harald stuck his sword in the ground and lifted the horn slung at his hip. He set it to his mouth and blew till he felt his eardrums bulge. Forward, king's men!

  Snatching up his brand afresh, he leaped at the nearest Englander. The long blade shrieked in his hands. It met a shield rim and crashed through; he felt bone give way before him.

  "Forward!" he yelled. "Swing them around!"

  Gunnar's ax whirled and thundered. He knocked one man to earth, took a leg off the one beside, and caught a third with the hammer on the backswing. Harald's sword whined down from the sky, he pushed the boss of his shield into men's faces and sent them stumbling. Olaf fought doggedly, smiting without regard for himself. For a moment the lines wobbled, then Harald felt a quiver as if in his own body and the foe were giving ground.

  He called aloud to his men, who drove the English till they were running backward. Eystein made a shorter arc, and Tosti stood firm. In a few bloody minutes, the lines had been turned, and the enemy had their backs to the marsh and its ditch.

  Landwaster flamed against them. Harald cut his way to Edwin's banner, slew the standard-bearer, and cast it down. The Mercian ranks thinned before him. It was hand to hand, man to man, grunting and gasping and slipping on the grass. Gudhrddh and Styrkaar added their strength to Tosti's weak line, and sheer weight of numbers pushed the English into the ditch and the fen beyond.

  They fought well until the ground began to suck their feet; then terror seized them and they broke. Many drowned there. The Norse waded after, slaying them until the marsh was so full of dead that men could walk dry-shod across.

  Fulford was won and the North was broken.

  Through his wildly jubilant host strode Harald. No time to lose. . . . "Stop that! Form ranks! Onward ere they can rally!" It was a good hour before he had them back in order and was leading them toward York.

  After dark, the town a dim hulk before him, he arrived and encamped his host. Their fires ringed in the city, and men on the walls heard once again the terrible Viking songs mocking them.

  Harald went to bed as soon as his tent was raised and slept better than he had done in a long time.

  At dawn he was afoot, gazing toward the beleaguered city. York was a large and wealthy burgh; the man who held her owned the North. The walls were not merely earthern, but stone, the warm yellow sandstone of this district, and he saw the spires of a cathedral over them. Armed men looked down on him, but no arrows were fired.

  Tosti sought the king. "I think they can be made to yield, my lord," he said. "They've no hope of beating off a storm."

  "Let them come talk to us about it," answered Harald. "And Tosti, what of those chiefs you said would come to our side?"

  "They must be sought out, my lord. I'll send men off at once."

  Bells rang in the town, a long sweet chiming across the misty land. It would be a sorrowful Mat-thewsmas in there.

  Harald bade his own chiefs join him in breaking fast. He was merry at the board, holding them a long time with his accounts of great battles in strange lands. "And yet this one we fought yesterday means more than all of them," he added. "Not only that we won a huge victory with few losses . . . but we fought for ourselves."

  "So did the English," said Thjodholf mildly.

  "Indeed," nodded Harald. "Still ... I wish not to pretend holiness, but it seems me we fought for them as well. In after years they'll thank us for having come, their brethren, and not the Normans who'd make thralls of them."

  Trumpets sounded from York, and a man called down to ask if the king would parley. Harald agreed, and at noontide he awaited Edwin and Morkar with a feast.

  They came haggardly into his tent. Edwin's head was bandaged, and Morkar limped. Harald looked closely at the second. "The tale was you had fallen," he said.

  "We escaped, through God's mercy, my lord," mumbled the earl.

  "That's good. My wish was never to slay brave men. Be seated."

  Edwin glared at Tosti, who was on a bench to the rear of the tent. "Not with that traitor," he said thickly.

  "And I should sit with two thieves?" cried Tosti, leaping to his feet.

  "Have done, the lot of you!" Harald's fist crashed on the table. "We came here to talk, not bandy ill-bred insults."

  Morkar said gloomily: "No affront was meant to you, my lord. You fought us well and beat us fairly. Belike you would be a better king than your namesake, lounging down in London ... as worthless as the rest of his family."

  Tosti pulled out a dagger. "One more such word," he said through clenched jaws, "and ..."

  "Be still, or I'll knock all your heads together," growled Harald. He looked keenly at the brothers. "Have you had no word from your king?"

  "He said he was on his way, and not to give battle until he came," answered Edwin. "But it would take him many days to get here, and what use is a worn-out troop?"

  Harald sat with an unreadable face. "Have you thought," he asked slowly, "that Harold meant for you to be crushed by us? Ever have you been his rivals."

  Edwin whitened. Morkar said in haste: "No, my lord, I can't believe it. He wed our sister, and . . ."

  Harald let it go, content to have planted the thought. They dined together, and he strove to show the brothers friendliness. Tosti sat back in some awe. He had thought this Harald Hardrede only a Viking, a living sword; but first had come the shrewdness at Gate Fulford, and today sat a man who could charm the Devil out of his hole.

  No agreement was reached then; the earls felt it their duty to hold York to the last. However, they consented to carry on the talks next day. Meanwhile Harald had parts of the host out to subdue the countryside, which was done without much trouble; and Tosti's friends began to arrive, some of them powerful chiefs who pledged to bring goodly followings in a week or two.

  For three days Harald bargained with the earls. It was finally agreed that York should be yielded to him, but would be spared sack; nor would the Norse garrison it at once, but wait till they had settled with Harold Godwinsson. Tosti would have the earldom of Northumbria back, but Edwin and Morkar should be granted fiefs and honors. Hostages were to be given, first from the city and then from the whole shire; and the northern levies would go under Harald's flag and help him against the remaining English.

  On Sunday, the twenty-fourth day of September, Harald Hardrede entered York. Shuttered windows and empty streets greeted him, but the cathedral bells rang and there he heard Mass and made thank offerings. Surely Olaf the Holy watched him!

  Afterward he summoned the townsfolk to a Thing. Before all of them, Edwin and Morkar knelt and gave homage, and the terms of surrender were spoken aloud. No few of the English must have felt bitterness on learning they would be gathered to conquer their own land. Yet this was old Danish country, there had never been much love for the southern districts up here, so many looked on the Norse spears and thought it best to follow a victorious flag.

  Tosti pointed out th
e foremost chief men of York, whose children Harald took as guarantees. Tomorrow, he said, the hostages for all the shire must be given; and at Tosti's suggestion, Stamford Bridge, a few miles east on the Derwent, was made the meeting place.

  Harald sent a large number of men to Aldby, toward the northeast, to establish a new camp—for the host could no longer be fed at Riccall. But this evening he rode back to the ships at the head of the rest of his warriors.

  "We'll raise the English and have them join us at Aldby in a day or two," he said to Eystein. "By that time my namesake should be getting close to us." He laughed. "It's most kind of him to come seek us out. It'll save us much walking."

  Eystein looked across the fields. Sunset light streamed over them, filling the air with its cool glow. "This is a land to itself," he answered. "Sometimes I think these folk are never so dangerous as when they seem beaten."

  4

  King Harold Godwinsson had come to London after his ship-fyrd went home. He was sick with a fever, and felt that all his troubles had closed in on him at once. He lay in bed, turning restlessly, when a messenger was brought to him.

  "Yes?" The king sat bolt upright. "What is it, man? Have the Normans come?"

  The messenger bent his dusty head. "Not yet, my lord," he said. "The Northmen have landed."

  Harold's clenched fist beat the covers. "What more can you tell?" he asked very softly.

  "A mighty host, my lord . . . perhaps three hundred ships. Your brother Earl Tosti is with them. They've taken Scarborough and ..."

  Harold swung his legs to the floor. Sweat studded his face. "God help us," he groaned.

  Then, jerkily, he got to his feet. "Call my servants. Have the Housecarles summoned ... the chiefs . . . everyone. Yes, now!"

  He sent word north, bidding the Alfgarssons wait and avoid battle until he could arrive. With his brother Leofwin, his Housecarles and thanes, and such levies as could be raised in a couple of days, he took the road. The first day he had to be carried in a litter, but thereafter he mounted a horse; and it was as if every mile put his sickness that much further behind him.

  It was a hundred and eighty miles from London to Tadcaster. Harold made the journey in four days. Belike his Housecarles were the only troops in the world who could have done it and still been ready to fight at the end; but as they fared, more and more shire levies joined them, until he had many thousands at his back.

  Leofwin blew out his lips and said in a voice dulled by weariness: "I'd not thought it possible."

  "We are Englishmen," said Harold with a laugh. "We show ourselves best when the need is greatest."

  "Ever have you been thus, brother." Leofwin shook his head. "I mind the time we sat friendless outlaws in Dublin, and even then . . . even then you must have known you would be king." He tried to smile. "This Harald Hardrede is said to be the greatest warrior in the North. What a sight the meeting of you two will be!"

  Harold looked unhappy. "I would we could be friends, he and I," he said. "We are too much akin to smite each other when a stranger to us both gathers strength across the Channel."

  His gaze was moody down the road. "Since the oldest days . . . Northerner against Northerner, till the old North destroys itself and is forgotten. We'll have need of God's grace."

  He reached Tadcaster on the Sunday and gave himself at once to mustering the ships that had fled into the wharf from the Norse fleet. There his cousin Earl Waltheof, who had ridden from York, found him and gave the news.

  Harold's face did not change. "They left no garrison in the city?" he asked.

  "No, my lord. But they took hostages. . . ."

  "Many lives will be at hazard tomorrow. We can't reckon with those few. Come, we ride!"

  Harold's army reached York at night. The townsfolk streamed out to watch in disbelief ... It could not be! The king ordered the gates guarded; no word must slip out to the enemy. Then he sought Edwin and Morkar in their hall.

  The brothers awaited him white-lipped. "We had not thought you would be here this soon," mumbled Edwin. "We would have held the town if . . ."

  "Why, no matter," said Harold cheerily. "The town is still ours, without loss of life in defending it . . . though best you keep watch over those whose kinfolk are prisoner." He rubbed bloodshot eyes. "You were to meet Hardrede tomorrow?"

  "Aye—at Stamford Bridge."

  "We will meet him indeed," said Harold.

  Chapter XIV:

  How They Fought at Stamford Bridge

  1

  That Monday broke cloudless, and even the early morning was unseasonably hot. Harald awoke in time to see the sun lift out of the east and flash off night dew. Now it shines on Thora, he thought, and Ellisif is at matins to pray for me.

  He dressed well, in blue kirtle and breeches, and entered the main room of the house he had taken. His chiefs were already there, and meat and drink on the table. They rose for him, and he took the end of the bench and ate hungrily. The ale was a cool tingle at the back of his throat.

  "Well," he said, "today we get our other hostages. I'll lead two parts of the host we have thither, and go on to Aldby with them to meet our men there. Do you keep one third here, Eystein, to guard the ships till we can decide what's to be done next."

  The sheriff smiled. "Thank you," he said. "This is not weather in which I'd care to travel." Harald told off Olaf, Tosti's boys, and the Thorbergssons to stay behind with the guards, and then let the summons be blown for his men. While they readied, he strolled out to the riverbank and stood under the Fafnir's dragon head. The sunlight flamed off its gold.

  "A good ship," he murmured. "She's borne me to two great victories. Eystein, is aught more fair than a ship?"

  "Well ..." The sheriff's gaze yearned northward.

  Harald laughed. "Wait a bit, lad," he said, "till you're my jarl in England."

  "Sometimes I think there are greater riches than gold and land," said Eystein. He reddened and added swiftly: "But you've been like a father to me, and I'll follow you as long as we both live, and if . . . aught of evil happens, I swear to avenge you."

  Harald thought of his leman Thora. It was the same quick spirit that lay in her.

  His two-thirds of the host were now gathered, spreading up from the river and across the land in a blink of spears and helmets. Because of the heat, few of them wore byrnies. He saw that Gunnar Geiroddsson did, belike because it was such a fine gold-trimmed piece of mail. Since he would be riding, Harald strapped Emma and the padded undercoat to his horse's back, and Tosti did likewise; but Styrkaar, Thjodholf, and most of the other mounted chiefs did not take the trouble. They had only a peaceful walk to meet a band of broken men.

  The king sprang into the saddle, and Kolfaxi reared. His helmet gleamed like a dragon's hoard.

  "Till we meet again!" he cried, and went to the front of his men.

  Eystein and Olaf stood beneath the Fafnir's prow, looking after his towering form till it was lost to sight. "Glad I am that I need not go today," said the prince. He glanced at the hostage children, where they sat under guard. They had not been ill treated, but most were silent with terror and some had been weeping. "This is an ugly business."

  The sheriff tugged his mustache. "Oftimes men must fight," he answered.

  "Aye . . . but why to take what is not theirs?"

  "A thing is only yours if you're strong enough to hold it."

  "That's not right," said Olaf in a low voice. "Were I king, I'd set the law above myself too."

  "Your father is not such a man," said Eystein. "He stands above all things. Had the time been a better one, he would have shaped the world as he chose. And still he has the boldness to try." He yawned and stretched himself. "Come, let's have some more ale and then, if you like, a ball game and a swim. The river looks cool."

  Harald rode in the forefront of his army, Styrkaar Marshal to the right and Thjodholf and Tosti to the left. Behind them was Fridhrek with Landwaster furled on the long staff; thereafter came a few others on horseback, and the
n the host, nodding spears and slogging feet under a haze of dust, jokes passing from mouth to bearded mouth and raucous laughter following.

  "Did we need to take this many?" asked Thjodholf.

  "It's as well to do so," said Styrkaar. "We've had it too easy since Fulford; the men grow bored and restless. And we must move them to Aldby anyway."

  The sky was a brazen bowl overhead, the sun a molten glare in their eyes as they went east toward the Derwent. Harald felt sweat trickle from under his helmet and down his cheeks.

  "When think you my namesake will arrive?" he asked.

  "Shortly," replied Tosti. "He's a brisk man. It would be deadly to reckon him at less than his true worth."

  The landscape inched away past them, rolling hills and clumps of forest. Leaves hung wilted on the trees, not a breath of air to stir them, and speckled the road with shadow. The grasses rustled dryly beneath men who walked in the fields. Down in the ranks, Gunnar lifted a crock of beer to his mouth.

  "How was your little friend?" asked someone.

  "Oh, most sweet," said Gunnar. His round face glistened with sweat, and foam flecked his stubbly beard. "I promised to come back later and marry her. But sith there be five girls in Norway what have the same promise ..."

  "Haw! Twenty years hence, the whole North will be overrun by freckle-snouted beer-guzzling axmen. I would I knew how you do it."

  "Well ..." Gunnar began explaining, as to a child.

  "That's not what I meant, you bullhead! I wanted to learn how to win their willingness."

  "I know not," said Gunnar, "unless it be the ring I have with Freyja's sign graven on it."

  "Hm. Will you sell that ring?"

  "Nay, not for any price. But I might think me to rent it out. ..."

  The host fared onward. Harald looked around him in wonder. This was his. Here was land where his house might strike roots and grow till it overshadowed the earth ... or could it endure another soil than its own? Heat shimmered on the horizon, and his shirt was sweated to his skin. He remembered what someone—Halldor? No, himself —had said down in Kiev, that it was as if the Northmen were ice giants who melted away when they left their homes.