TLV - 03 - The Sign of the Raven

by Poul Anderson

  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 the 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.

  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 h
is 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 Land waster furled on the long staff; thereafter came a few others on horseback, and then 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.

  A few farmsteads were in sight, empty of men. But none were to be seen when they reached the Der-went; here was grassland and the flocks had been driven to safety.

  Harald paused for a look at the river. At this point, swollen by the rainy summer, it ran wide and deep between high, reedy banks. Something of remorselessness was in that brown southward flow. It gurgled and murmured around the piers of the bridge—a narrow wooden bridge with a single handrail and the road going on dusty gray beyond. Trees lined the stream, sun-speckled greenness of ash and willow whose shade was utterly black against the light.

  "Where are the Englishmen?" asked Harald.

  "They should come soon," replied Tosti. "We've moved fast. It's just a little past midday."

  "If they don't . . ." Styrkaar's heavy face writhed into a scowl. "We'll lay the whole north country in ashes."

  "Time enough for that if they fail us," said Thjodholf sharply.

  Harald looked at the trees. "A good sign," he said. "The ash is Odhinn's tree, and he is god of victories."

  "He is also god of the dead," muttered Thjodholf.

  Harald rode across the bridge. The stallion skittered nervously, planks boomed hollow under hooves. The men followed; it took time to get everybody across that thin span. Many scrambled down the banks to drink, and thereafter re-formed their array.

  Tosti squinted along the road, which bent south. "I see a dust cloud," he spoke. "It must be the hostages coming."

  "It seems me they come with an almighty haste," said Thjodholf.

  Harald sat waiting, holding his mount steady. A light breeze sprang up, and he breathed deeply. It smelt drowsy, of hay and harvest. . . Yes, this was the reaping time. At home they would be carting in the last sheaves, and the old, joyously heathen feasts and dances would be held under torchlight. He remembered them from his youth—merciful Christ, how long ago that was, and yet how swiftly the years had run!

  The newcomers approached. Something gleamed in their dust, far off but hurrying closer. A sudden chill went through Harald.

  "Those are spears and helmets," he said.

  Tosti sat moveless, his handsome countenance gone wooden. At last he ventured: "They would scarce come altogether unarmed."

  The river mumbled behind them.

  "No," said Harald after a while. "There are too many."

  "They may be some more of my friends, come to join us," said the earl.

  Styrkaar cursed. A whisper went among the men, and shields were raised.

  Now Harald saw the strangers a bare mile removed. They were a huge force, spilling over the fields and down the road—thousands of men, he thought wildly, vastly more than he had, and every one of their leading ranks armored. Through the dust, the light shone off their weapons as though blinking off ice.

  2

  Tosti started up in his stirrups. "The banners!" he yelled.

  Harald nodded. There was a bleakness in him, he felt no fear but he knew that he was overmatched—that he, the craftsman of war, had walked blithely into a trap and it had snapped down on him. "I see Edwin's and Morkar's," he said. "So much for the faith of Englishmen."

  Tosti gave him an angry look. "I was never a friend to their house," he answered. "You shall find that Englishmen know how to stand fast." He pointed. "But that great flag in the van—" It was royal blue, fringed with gold, and across it strode the golden form of a warrior. "That is my brother Harold's."

  Styrkaar pulled free his ax. "Then you lied to us!" he growled. "All the time Harold lay near!"

  Tosti shook his head dazedly. "No," he whispered. "I spoke truth. Who was to know he could come so swiftly?"

  Harald laughed, a rattle in his throat. "Indeed my namesake is no weakling—a foe worthy of anyone." He stroked his beard. Under the helmet, his face was long and lean, the nose jutting, the eyes large and cold, one brow lifted as in mockery. "But let us now find a wise rede; for it can't be hidden that battle is at hand, and that with the king himself."

  Tosti looked behind him, along the Norse lines. Some of them gnawed their lips, others cursed, most stood with a foredoomed bravery. "Best would it be to get away while we can," said the earl slowly, "back to the ships to fetch our armor and the rest of our men. Thereafter we can take up the fight, and if worst comes to worst we could escape in the ships
."

  Harald shook his head. A wintry wrath flared up in him; he knew not if it was against the Norns or against his own foolhardiness. "No," he answered. "They would follow and attack our rear. Let three men on our swiftest horses return to the ships and fetch Eystein and the others. The Englanders will bite much grass ere we draw the shortest straw."

  Styrkaar nodded his black-thatched head and snapped orders. The bridge boomed under three steeds; their riders were slim youths who could reach Riccall in a couple of hours.

  Tosti smiled. "I'll follow your word in this as in all else, my lord," he said. "I myself were not glad to flee."