The Last Viking

by Poul Anderson

  Gunnar Geiroddsson tilted a horn with the best, but a man his size is not easily befuddled by drink. He felt only a warm buzzing, as of bees in a summer meadow, while the rest shouted into each other's mouths.

  Talk turned back to the combat at Niss River. Gunnar had wielded a frightful broadax under Eystein's banner, and had enjoyed himself hugely even during the most desperate moments. Now, when men began to praise Haakon Jarl and say he had saved the day, the young warrior frowned and spoke slowly:

  "I—it seems me that, well—"

  No one heard him. Gunnar shook his mane and bellowed through the chatter:

  "My chief's luck was not of the best that night, but no man fought braver and I'll hear naught said against him."

  The babble died away, Gunnar being the largest there. "Aye," said another of the sheriff's troop, "I'll hold with you, our chief was as good as any."

  "King Harald was in the forefront too," said a youngster.

  "And forget not Ulf the marshal," added a man from Iceland.

  "Styrkaar ..." began someone else.

  A slender youth of Haakon's troop hiccupped, grinned secretively, and declared: "Ah, yes, it may well be that several fought as bravely at the Niss as Haakon Jarl; but I can tell you this, none had such luck in that battle as he."

  Gunnar scratched his head. "Mean you that he put so mickle a number of they Danes to flight?"

  The youth was very drunk. He looked important and said, "No, I had somewhat else in mind."

  "What was it, then?"

  "I shou'n' tell."

  The older men shrugged. "You've naught to tell," sneered one.

  "Oh, haven't I?" The youth started forward on the bench. "Well, then, hear. His greatest luck was this: that he gave King Svein quarter."

  "You know not what you speak of!" said Gunnar.

  "Oh, yes, I do. One o' the men who set King Svein ashore told me about it when he was in his cups this winter."

  The room became altogether still. Gunnar looked out at the day, which seemed suddenly less bright.

  The whole way down to Oslo, he brooded over what he had heard. Surely such a thing could not be true of the great Haakon Jarl. And yet, and yet!

  He looked at Eystein. The sheriff rode like a rainbow, all in gold and green and scarlet. What to do? Eystein would know . . . but suppose Eystein said to keep the story secret.

  The king was God's chosen man, and he had spoken kindly to Gunnar Geiroddsson. If there was treachery abroad, it would be a worse treason not to warn him.

  Eystein was Haakon's near friend, but he was also close to the king. Which would he choose, if it came to that? If he stood by the jarl, what should his man, who was also sworn to the king, do?

  The warrior groaned aloud. His chief turned a concerned face. "Are you ill, Gunnar?" he asked. "You were ever the loudest and merriest among us, but today you sit like a sack of meal."

  "I . . . drank too much yesterday."

  "Ah, so. Well, watch your health. Spring is a devilish time for colds." Eystein began whistling.

  They traveled easily, overnighted at another farm garth and reached Oslo the next afternoon. Harald bade the sheriff welcome and gave lodging to his men. It was to be seen that the king was less cheerful than of yore.

  Gunnar sat moodily that evening. He had no heed for the fair young women who served. It was late before he got up the courage to do what must be done.

  The fires were low, and men were yawning. Harald left the high seat to go to bed. Gunnar stumbled after him. "My lord!"

  "Yes?"

  "I . . . I'd speak to you . . . under four eyes."

  Harald searched the broad freckled face. "Is it important?" he asked.

  "Aye, my lord." Gunnar's fingers twisted together.

  "Then come." Harald's tall form went to the foreroom door.

  An old carline beyond was sweeping by a rushlight. Harald waved her out and closed the door. He sat down, crossed his legs, and regarded Gunnar over bridged fingers.

  "Well?" he asked.

  The warrior could not meet that gaze. He dug his toes at the floor. "We was to Jarl Haakon's two days agone," he said. "I heard somewhat there. ..."

  Harald's face remained a lean mask. He waited. "One of the jarl's men, he said he had it from another, that 'twas Haakon himself what spared King Svein. ..."

  Harald's foot crashed to the ground. He sat bolt upright. "What?"

  "Aye, 'tis but a tale, my lord, and yet the man what told it swore he had it from one of they what set the king ashore that day. He said Svein came in a boat and talked to the jarl, and the jarl had two men set him aland. So he said. It may be a lie."

  Harald rose, very slowly and carefully, and went to the door. "Eystein!" he shouted.

  The sheriff came running. "What is it, my lord?"

  Harald grabbed his shirt and pulled him inside and cracked the door shut again. The king's face was terrible to see. "This man tells me that it was Haakon Ivarsson who saved Svein Estridhsson's life at the Niss. What know you of it?"

  Eystein broke free. "Not a word, my lord," he whispered. "Whence came so foul a story?"

  Gunnar stared at the floor. "We was drinking," he said miserably. "The tale came from a drunk lad's mouth."

  "In vino Veritas," said Harald. It was eerie to hear so much venom in priest language.

  "It may be a lie, a brag," said Eystein. "Who knows?"

  Harald spoke grimly. "Would one of Haakon's own men slander him, even when drunk? We know Svein escaped, and with all the traffic there was on the water, all the men watching for any Dane they might clap hands on for ransom, how else could he win free but by help of a Norse traitor? And who else in our host had any love for Svein? To what other man would he even have turned for help? Oh, yes, there's but one answer, and we are fools for not having seen it erenow."

  "At least hear him out," begged Eystein. "Let him defend himself."

  "He may do so . . . with a sword," snarled Harald.

  "But . . ."

  "With whom do you stand, Eystein?"

  The sheriff doubled his fists. "I stand with you," he said at last.

  "Good!" Harald went to the door. "Up, every man! Busk yourselves! We ride tonight!"

  3

  At the head of a dozen score warriors, the king stormed northward over roads of darkness. Each man had been ordered to take an extra horse, and use the mounts in turn, for they would not halt and were bound into hill country. No word passed Harald's lips the whole way and none dared speak to him.

  When morning came, they were on a narrow, slippery upward track. Ahead of them, the land climbed for the clouds. Men chewed hastily snatched bread and cheese, passed jugs from hand to hand, and forced their tired bodies to stay in the saddle. The horses went with drooping heads and eyes that pleaded for rest.

  Several oxcarts came creaking the other way, bound to Oslo market with meal and malt. The yeomen stared fearfully at the mailed men who rattled by them, and muttered to each other.

  One of the troopers drew rein and squinted at a farmer who rode a horse. "Is it you, Skafti?" he asked.

  "Aye . . . and you are Gamall Eiriksson," nodded the yeoman, who had been his neighbor of old. "Whither fare you?"

  Gamall looked around. The guardsmen were going past at a walk, and no one paid him any heed. He laid his mouth near Skafti's ear and whispered: "I've a boon to ask of you. It's a matter of life and death."

  "So? Tell me and I'll think on it."

  "I'll reward you well, if you'll ride as fast as your horse can take you, by the shortest bypaths you know, straight to Haakon Jarl. Tell him the king is out after his life, because he's now learned it was the jarl who helped King Svein ashore at the Niss."

  Skafti's eyes snapped wide. He crossed himself. "That's a dangerous errand," he said.

  "Not so loud, man! I told you I'd pay for the help."

  "What the jarl's life to you?" asked Skafti shrewdly.

  "Jesu Kristi! Who else can stand up for the folk's right against
this overweening king we have? Now quickly, be off!"

  Skafti rubbed his chin. "How much did you say you'd give?"

  "Half a mark in silver. Here, I have it in my pouch."

  "Silver's no use to a dead man, and that's what I'll be if ever the king hears of this. I should be a true soul and tell him what you just said, but for old times' sake ..."

  "A full mark!" groaned Gamall.

  "Two marks, and I'm your man."

  "One and a half. I'm not rich, you dog."

  "Calling me a dog will cost you another half mark, Gamall."

  "Well, then, two and a half. You shall have it. . . . Here's my pouch, I'll give you the rest in Oslo and hope you fry in hell. Be quick!" Gamall wheeled his horse and clattered back into the troop.

  Skafti sighed. "It's a chancy life," he said to the boy on his lead oxcart. "Sell our loads as best you can without me, but not a copper less than half a mark." He steered his mount off the road, found a trail that cut into the forest, and settled down to urge speed out of the nag.

  The early dusk was turning to night when Skafti came to Haakon's hall. He dismounted stiffly and rapped his ax on the door. The steward opened it.

  "I've word for the jarl," said the yeoman. "Do you rub down my horse and give him some water, but not enough to founder him."

  "And who are you to speak so bold?" asked the steward.

  "Well," said Skafti, "if you want to be hanged from the same tree as your master when the king comes, I'll go home."

  He was hastily led inside. Haakon and Ragnhild were not yet abed, but sat drinking by a low fire. The jarl nodded pleasantly. "What brings you here, fellow, and what's your name?"

  Skafti kept to the shadow. "My name's of no moment, but my news is." He told the story in a few words. "The way the men was riding, they should be here ere midnight."

  Haakon sprang to his feet. "Christ have mercy!" he said in a shattered voice. "Is the man a warlock that he knows?"

  Ragnhild came to him. "The tale is true?" she whispered.

  "Yes. . . ." Haakon bent his face into his hands. "I could not refuse him when he stood there, alone and friendless—he who had only sought to keep what was his lawful right. But now I've lost all for both of us,"

  "No," she said softly. "Not while we live." Pride rang in her tone. "I'd not have had my man do otherwise."

  Haakon clutched her to him, and it was as if he drew strength from the slim body. When he stepped from her, he was the chief who had conquered at Niss River.

  "Thorkell, Sverting, Sigurdh, Hallvardh, Saeming—up, every man and woman, if you want to see dawn again! Lights! Here, to me, and break open the weapon chests!"

  The garth burst into a roar. Folk hurried about, stowing, packing, provisioning, while Haakon moved among them giving orders. Some were to take the monies and movable goods into the forest and hide them, some were to arm themselves and follow him, there must not be a living soul to meet Harald Hardrede when he came.

  The jarl had wife and children on horseback before Ragnhild asked him where he meant to go.

  He grinned, as if this were only a boy's prank.

  "Why not to Sweden?" he asked. "King Steinkell will make us welcome, he has no love for our lord. And we'll still be near home."

  She watched him for a while. "So you mean to come back?"

  "Aye. There's no freedom for our folk while Harald lives." Haakon shook his banner, furled around its staff. "This belonged to your father, Ragnhild, King Magnus the Good. It has a bear on it. Good willing, someday the bear is going to eat the raven."

  With a score of armed carles, the jarl and his family spurred horses and were soon lost in the moonlit woods.

  Skafti the yeoman sighed. He'd not had a chance to speak of reward for his tidings. These great folk were a mean lot.

  Well. . . best not be found here when the king arrived. Skafti mounted his horse and rode slowly the other way.

  Chapter V:

  How Peace Was Made

  1

  Early in summer, Harald moved his court up to Nidharos. He had scant reason for it, but in his mood Oslo seemed a cage. A few days after arriving thither, he rode out to visit Ulf.

  It was a windy afternoon when he and his troop clattered into the garth; cloud shadows swept the rolling land and the trees roared. The marshal did not bid him welcome, but merely nodded. He was busy. Two strong men held the arms of a thrall seated before him, in front of the main house; Ulf himself gripped a blacksmith's tongs.

  "What has this fellow done?" asked Harald.

  "Sinned, I suppose, like anyone else," chuckled Ulf. "God has seen fit to punish him with toothache. Now, Gest, open your mouth." He stuck the tongs in, caught fast, and gave a yank. The tooth came out with a cracking sound, and the thrall whined.

  "Hm." Ulf looked at the bloody thing. "It seems healthy enough. Open again." He peered into the gaping jaws. "Aye, I got the wrong one. Well, we'll try afresh." Snap! "There, now. Go get a stoup of ale. . . . No, you may have wine, as weregild for your good tooth." The marshal clapped him on the shoulder and turned laughing to his king. "So let evil ever be uprooted."

  "And the good with it?" wondered Harald. He dismounted. A carle took his horse.

  Ulf led him inside his small private lodge. Jorunn came quietly to set out mead for them, and closed the door as she left. They raised beakers and drank in silence.

  "Well," asked the Icelander finally, "came you to speak of somewhat, or is it only a guesting?"

  Harald ran a hand through his hair. "I know not. These days I seem to go in a fog."

  Ulf nodded. Kindness stood on the dented face. "Hard it is to find one's road. I've heard tell of your trouble with Haakon Ivarsson."

  "Did I do well there?" Harald rubbed his eyes, wearily. "It's not good having a powerful man in the kingdom who cannot be trusted."

  "Haakon could be, if you two saw the world the same way."

  "But that's the trouble." Harald sat up straight, anger in his voice. "Who is lord in this realm, Haakon Jarl or myself? No, let me but catch that traitor, and he'll ride Odhinn's horse."

  "Hanging is no end for a brave man," protested Ulf. "By such deeds you drive the folk to rebellion."

  "Would the folk but obey their rightful master, there'd be no need of such deeds!"

  Ulf shrugged. "Be not wrathful at me," he said.

  "It's too late to change anything . . . and had you been otherwise, old friend, I'd scarce have followed you these many years. Best we take the world as it stands and see what can be wrought."

  Harald regarded him at length. "I may have stiffened," he said after a while, "but you have changed."

  "A man grows old," said Ulf. "It no longer seems of great moment who shall have what."

  "Is it your sickness?"

  "Perhaps. It plagues me oftener as time goes by. A leech-wife counseled me to live more easily, but the Devil take that. A life spent drowsing by the fire were not worth keeping. One old witch makes me a brew of toad skins that seems to help a little." Ulf made a face. "It should, so foul it tastes!"

  "St. Olaf has healed many at his shrine."

  "Aye, there I've been, but belike am not pious enough to win his favor; and I'm too set in my ways and have too much sport baiting the priest." Ulf's grin faded. "It hardly matters, Harald. In these late years, everything we have done seems one halloo, with naught to show for it and the world much the same whether we won or lost." His grizzled head nodded, slowly and carefully.

  Harald felt an eeriness at the sight, and would not endure the thought. "We must weigh what's to be done," he said briskly. "It were madness to attack Denmark this year, with Haakon ready to pounce. Yet it galls me to have Svein go free."

  "I know." Ulf's quick mood shifted, he was again the rasp-tongued troll. "You've gotten into the habit of looting Denmark, and that's not an easy one to break."

  "There's been much talk of making peace with Svein," said Harald tonelessly. "Do you join in it?"

  "Well . . . I've never bee
n a peacemaker, but you might think on it. What would you gain from winning that crown? A sullen folk, even more troublesome than your Norsemen; a lifetime of border wars against Wendish raiders; your strength and wealth spent on holding a little frog pond. . . . There are better things to do."

  "And all the years of trying to go for naught?" cried Harald.

  "Before I taught myself to, hm, better my luck with the dice, I would get streaks where they ran against me. At such time I had wisdom enough not to throw away more money seeking to regain what was lost. Moreover, you've won great booty there, and wealth to outfit a mighty host."

  "Against whom? The Swedes? It were worth going in there, if only to uproot Haakon Ivarsson. And the Swedish land is broad and good."

  Ulf picked his bent nose. "Aye. But think you, Harald, the Swedes are still more stubborn than Norse or Danes . . . and more backward. You have no claim whatsoever to that throne, so you could scarce raise a man of them to fight for you."

  "And most of them are heathen," agreed Harald. "Even if I got the kingdom, I would have to give my life to making them Christian or face the Church's ban in truth. It's a worthy work, but not one for which I feel a calling." He laughed sadly. "I thought, once, that kingship was pure power and glory, and naught could stay the king's hand save open defeat in war! Bitter is the wisdom I've gained."

  "You'll not settle down to hold what you have," said Ulf. "It's not in you. Well, then . . . you have Haakon to reckon with, but if you can break him we must look for something else. Now, where else have you a claim?"

  Harald's eyes looked far off. "England," he murmured.

  "It's a mighty task," said Ulf. "Yet you have a certain right there, through Magnus Olafsson's treaty with Hardhaknut. You have the Orkneys and other western islands. You'd have Norsemen to help from Ireland and Scotland. Edward the Good dodders toward his deathbed, with no likely successor but Harold Godwinsson and he a mere earl."