TLV - 03 - The Sign of the Raven

by Poul Anderson

  Ulf shifted his weight, the saddle creaked and his mare blew out her lips in a long sigh. "Be not so glum," he advised. "It's an ill thing to lose a wife, but . . ."

  Eystein looked at his mount's neck. His hands doubled over the reins. "I sought your company for a reason, Ulf," he said.

  "I thought as much." The marshal laughed noiselessly.

  Eystein gave him a look of misery. "Has my breast been so open to sight?" he asked.

  "Mmm . . . perhaps not. But I, at least, know a hankering when I see one. Speak as freely as you wish. I've no sense of shame."

  "It's not easy." Eystein's winter-pale cheeks reddened. "I've prayed, and made offerings, and . . . there's still a thought I can't drive from my soul."

  "If you must dance around like a courting grouse, then I'll say it for you. Maria Haraldsdottir."

  Eystein's head drooped. "God help me," he mumbled. "Thordis was a good and true wife who ever sought to make me happy. Even when our children died, it was she who comforted me. Will you understand, knowing how easy it is to make some pretext for divorce, will you understand how I could never find it in me to turn her out? But I lay with one woman after the next. ..."

  "What of it? I think God, or the gods, or whatever shaped man meant him to wallow in the she-sex, like a stallion or a bull seal." Ulf chuckled dreamily. "Is aught better than a nice round ticklish young wench, high in the prow and bluff in the stern?"

  Eystein's hand lifted. "Have done," he said unhappily. "This is no jesting matter. Thordis was good, I say, and kind, and even on her deathbed made no plaint . . . and you know how that sickness often turns folk mean. Yet we were wedded because her father was a powerful chief and her dowry large, and she wearied me. Christ alone knows how she wearied me! And when she was dying, I strove to speak gently to her, but all I could think of was how ugly she had grown, and how she stank, and how I was cooped up with death. . . ." He covered his eyes. "God have mercy, when she died I was glad! In my inmost heart I rejoiced."

  "Well," said Ulf, "her suffering was past."

  "I was glad for myself!" said Eystein in a haunted voice.

  "It's my thought that Christendom is making liars of us," said the marshal. "Better it was in the old days, when a man felt no need to cloak honest wickedness."

  Eystein startled. "Be careful!" he whispered. "You speak blasphemy."

  Ulf shrugged. "So the priests have told us. As for me, I believe what I see with my own eyes, and doubt any man's bare word."

  "But the miracles! I myself have seen a man who lay lame for ten years brought to Olaf's shrine and walk away."

  "Are you quite sure someone was not making magic?" leered Ulf. "I've never heard of the saint growing a new leg on a cut-off stump; those healed are ever folk who have limbs or eyes but have somehow lost the use of them."

  "I'll hear no more!" cried Eystein.

  Ulf rocked with laughter, though no sound came from his lips. "Very well," he said. "Yet I horrified you out of your grief, no?"

  "I . . . well . . ." The sheriff stroked his red mustache with shaky fingers. "Indeed it turned my mind—but even speaking of such things is perilous."

  "It served the purpose. Let me bide alone with what I really believe; that's no man's affair." Ulf glanced behind. The warriors riding there were too far off to hear him through the wind. "Let's talk of your woes. You've hankered after Maria for some time, and had reason to think she felt kindly toward you. Now you're knotting up your courage to ask her hand."

  "It scarce seems decent, with Thordis not cold in her grave."

  "Bah! There's no marriage in heaven, so grab what years you have on earth." Ulf's scorn faded, and he went on very softly while looking at something known but to himself: "Happy the man who gets the woman he cares about. Life can be strangely empty without her. Maria is much like her mother, and I could wish her to have the man who would make her happy, rather than one who might only make her a queen. Eystein, you're a good sort who can drink most men under the table, and I'll support you before the king. All I ask in return is that you forget what's past and look to tomorrow."

  He himself stared across the hills for a while, till Eystein should have gotten his face in order. He did not think it right to see a man's soul.

  King Harald received them well, with a cheer which had not been in him for years. He said he was assembling the court to hear a messenger from Flanders. Ulf nodded, unsurprised, and turned the talk until it reached Eystein's suit.

  The king raised his brows. "I've not been altogether blind," he said. "Maria has refused three offers already, and I'd not compel her. Come, you two, follow me, and I'll have the girl sent for,"

  Eystein's heart leaped in his breast. He had not felt thus since he was a youth.

  The three men sat alone in the foreroom of the hall. It was chill and gloomy. Eystein could not take his eyes from the door. When it opened, sunlight and springtime streamed in.

  Maria entered. She wore a cowled mantle of gray which gave her a look almost of holiness in the sheriff's mind . . . but as she came toward him, with the gracious stride that had walked through his nights, he thought of Freyja.

  She turned her head, the big gray eyes half blinded by sudden murk. "You wished me here, father?"

  "Yes." King Harald chuckled. "I thought you'd like to welcome our guest. We shall have Gorcock for supper."

  She stopped, unmoving save that a small hand lifted to her lips, as if by its own will. "Oh," she said faintly. "I see you now . . . Well met, Eystein."

  "The sheriff has, hm," Harald cleared his throat savoring the moment. "He has brought us somewhat of a surprise."

  Maria made no answer.

  "He has asked for your hand in marriage," went on the king. "I wondered if you would think of . . ."

  His voice trailed off when he saw them looking at each other. They would not have heard him.

  2

  Osric Cynewulfsson was a short man, rather ugly, who bore a glib and fearless tongue. He admitted freely that Harold Godwinsson had outlawed him for a murder done in England, and that he had gone to Flanders to save his neck; but he spoke well of Tosti. He had come to Norway by ship, and Harald guested him and his crew with no more hospitality than custom demanded.

  After his chiefs were gathered, the king brought them into a lesser hall used for audiences. It was on a day when rain scurried before the wind. He bade them not speak to anyone else of what would be said, but to think well on the matter and give him their best redes. Then he told Osric to stand forth and declare his errand.

  The Englishman - rose and walked out onto the floor. His eyes went around the seats and benches; he seemed a gray sparrow in a mew of blooded hawks.

  There they sat, the power and pride of Norway, the warriors whose fame was like thunder. Firelight glittered off golden rings, threw heavy cloth and costly furs into a moving shadow, splashed stern faces and gleamed in hooded eyes; axes hanging on the walls seemed to run with blood, and the sound of rain on the roof was as of horses galloping.

  King Harald Hardrede was in the high seat, leaning back at ease, legs crossed and fingers bridged: an overwhelming giant, scarce a sign of his fifty-one years in tawny mane or beard. His weathered countenance was lined, the nose thrust out in a crag, the eyes seemed too brilliant for a mortal man. At his feet sprawled a wolfhound whom few dared go too near; its collar was studded with rubies.

  On his right was Prince Magnus, shifting restlessly, a tall and goodly youth; Olaf on his left was nearly as large as a man at sixteen years of age, calm and quiet, but the blunt-fingered hands held a bear's strength. To the latter's left was the skald Thjodholf, whose gaze had looked on many stricken fields and whose voice had chanted of battles where he himself wielded not the least sword. At Magnus' right was Eystein Gorcock, whose clothes were a shout of color, who had a secret smile on his lips; but Eystein's brand had cloven shields.

  Opposite the king was his marshal Ulf, bristle bearded and hideous, cold craftiness in his thick skull. On h
is right he had Thori of Steig, a weighty man, slow spoken and sage; on his left Styrkaar, dark and gloomy, chill of eye and hoarse of voice, whose hands had wrought much evil but whose bravery was boundless.

  And there were many others, sheriffs and guardsmen, down to the young giant Gunnar Geiroddsson whose doglike gaze seldom left Harald. These men had driven armies before them and gladdened ravens; now they sat to hear the word of Osric.

  The Englishman cleared his throat and faced the king. His speech was outlandish in Norway, but not so different that it could not be understood. "Your majesty and my lords," he began. "I have come hither on behalf of my master, Earl Tosti Godwinsson, whom you know to be unjustly outlawed, and whom you must also know to be among the wisest and most valiant of men. He seeks your help in a war which must not only bring greater riches than folk ever dreamed erenow, but also a fame which will endure while the world remains."

  He went on at length, telling how matters stood in England and how Tosti had gotten no few ships and warriors of his own. It was his plan to come back, overthrow his brother, and seize the crown; but for the Norse help he offered to become Harald's man. Harald should be king of England and Tosti his earl in charge of half the realm.

  The ruler tilted his left eyebrow upward. "I've heard that this offer was first made to my enemy Svein Estridhsson," he said.

  "It was, my lord," answered Osric unabashed. "For after all, King Svein is Tosti's near relative. And these were the Dane's words: 'So little can I measure myself against my kinsman King Knut, that I can scarce defend my own land from the Norsemen. Old Knut got Denmark in heritage, and England he conquered with slash and blow, and yet for a time it seemed he must lose his very life over there. Norway he won without battle; but I have learned to be content, and to remain by my own holdings however small, rather than seek a might such as that my kinsman King Knut gained.'

  "And these, sire, were my words in answer: 'When so great a man as you can bid us no more help, now when we need it the most, I understand that my journey hither will not bring what I had hoped. Therefore I must needs seek friendship where it is less to be expected; and yet it could happen that I found there a chieftain who owns more courage than you, king, to go under the eyes of danger and not shy away from a great deed.'

  "And so," Finished Osric with a grin, "we parted, not just the best of friends."

  The Norsemen laughed.

  Harald said slowly: "We are not much for going in Viking to England, if our folk must have an English chief over them. It's thought hereabouts that the English are not to be trusted."

  Osric met his stare and replied boldly: "My lord, what is the truth of that story I heard in England, that your kinsman King Magnus sent a message to King Edward claiming the English throne by reason of the agreement sworn to by Hardhaknut and himself?"

  Harald countered with a question of his own. "Why did he not take it, if he owned it?"

  "Yes, my lord, and why do you not have Denmark, as King Magnus had it before your time?"

  Harald paled and said harshly: "The Danes have naught to brag of where we Norse are concerned; often enough have we scorched the pelts of your dear kinsmen in Denmark."

  Osric folded his arms, more than ever the sparrow defying the hawk, and said: "Will you not answer my question, lord, then I shall answer it for you. King Magnus got Denmark because the Danish chieftains were on his side; you won it not, because the folk of that land were against you. And when Magnus did not attack England, it was because he knew the whole people stood together behind King Edward. But if you now wish to be the overlord of England, my master Earl Tosti shall so contrive it that the greater part of the English chiefs give you friendship and help.

  "All know, king, that never in the North has there been born a man who could measure up to you as a warrior; therefore it seems me strange that you could fight so many years to conquer Denmark, but now will not travel to get England which lies open for you."

  He finished and stood waiting. The Norse stirred; a few hands dropped to where sword hilts would have been.

  Harald laid his chin in his palm. "I think those are less your words than your master's," he said; "so you shall be forgiven this insolence. But do not try our temper further. Now you may go."

  Osric bowed cockily and went out.

  There was a moment's silence. The wind hooted around the hall, somewhere a loose shutter banged; rain hammered the roof, flooding off eaves, gurgling between flagstones; early thunder boomed in the Viken hills: the trolls were playing ball!

  "Well," said Harald, "what think you?"

  Magnus leaped to his feet. "God's name, it's a deed which would never be forgotten!" he cried.

  "Slow," smiled his father. "This is not something to be jumped blindly into. I want everyone here to think long and well; and meanwhile I shall have spies , out, that we may know the truth. Let no word of this escape your mouths."

  "And why so, my lord?" asked Styrkaar. "The thought is one to fire men's hearts."

  "My namesake will be looking for aid. Svein in Denmark or King Dermot in Ireland might well come to his help. But if they know not whom we prepare a war against—perhaps themselves—they will stay at home."

  "It's William the Bastard who means to go traveling this year," said Thori. He had lately spoken to a trader from France. "And that is a man to reckon with."

  "Who is he?" snorted Harald. "A little brawling bandit. The English king has fought better than he. And as for myself, I have waged fifty battles—I count not skirmishes—" he caught Ulf's ironic eye,"—nor riots with city rabble . . . fifty battles, and in each of them have carried the victory."

  "It's apt to be a three-cornered war," said Eystein. "We could reach England only to find William there before us."

  "That would suit me well," answered Harald, grinning. "Indeed, my thought is to sail late in summer or early in fall. Belike William will have tried a landing first. If the English king wins, the Normans will still have whittled down his strength; if the duke should win, then his own army will be less than it was, and we can come as deliverers, the whole English folk rising to welcome us."

  The wind cried out in the streets.

  "Then you are already bound to embark on this venture?" asked Ulf.

  "I've taken no vows," said Harald. "I wish your counsel, all of you; and surely we must know more ere beginning the war. Yet it seems a good thought to me. My claim to England is better than Harold Godwinsson's, far better than William Bastard's; and as for you, and the whole Norse folk, it's a land as rich as Miklagardh and fair as Paradise, where those who are now sheriffs could become jarls, and where we might forge one unbreakable kingdom of the North."

  Ulf shook his head doubtfully.

  "I was in England two years ago," said one of the chiefs, a former Viking whose judgment was respected. "A mighty realm, my lord, so swarming with people that all the Norse could be lost among them, wealthy cities behind stout walls, strong and stubborn yeomen. I saw Harold Godwinsson, he was jarl then, go by with his household troops. Lord, they are giants, every one of them, no worse than Knut's old Thingmen. One of them, I fear, would be a match for any two of us."

  "That's no way for a Norseman to talk," said Eystein angrily.

  Ulf's faded eyes looked into the corner; rain drummed under his tones as he made a verse:

  "If each single ax

  of England's guards counts double

  (surely I'll not shy

  from shining plunder elsewise),

  I will not be eager

  England-ward to travel;

  once in youth, oh woman,

  was I bolder hearted. "

  Harald leaned from his chair. "What mean you, Ulf?" he asked. "Would you stay behind when most needed?"

  "No ... I suppose not." The marshal sighed. "I but spoke aloud to myself."

  "Think you, then, we should sit by the fire at home for the rest of our days, farting at the mouth of how great we used to be?"

  Ulf smiled wearily. "That will
never be your doom, Harald," he said. "Yet 1 counsel you against this war. It's too much for us, we're too like to leave our bones to English crows."

  That is what it means to grow old, thought Harald, but bit the words back. Ulf meant him well.

  He wondered what woman his friend had been thinking of.

  3

  Eystein Gorcock was sent to Orkney to bid the Thorfinnssons, Pall and Erlend, who held the jarldom after their father, have men and ships rallied at full strength in Scapa Flow by hay harvest. They were not to be told why. The king had as yet not decided finally what he would do, but his orders could be countermanded if need be; meanwhile it was well to make everything ready, for this would be the mightest work any Norseman had undertaken.

  The sheriff was loath to leave Maria even for a few weeks, but consoled himself. The betrothal feast would be held on his return, and the wedding was set for early next year.