"Hoy!" shouted Harald, and snatched for his sword.
The tall man lifted the spear and hurled it. The king heard it smack in flesh; suddenly the point gleamed out of his foremost standard-bearer's back. The youth gave a scream as he fell from the saddle.
Ere Harald could draw blade, the tall man had seized Magnus' banner and was gone with it.
The Norse line jarred to a halt. Torches bobbed, throwing eyes and teeth out of night. "What is it, what happened? In Christ's name what's this latest ill?"
Harald drew a shaking breath. He felt the cold crackle around and through him.
"Give me my byrnie," he said. "The jarl lives."
Chapter VII:
How Ellisif Was Angry
1
In that part of the night which remained, the Norse stayed aboard their ships. By dawn the chill had deepened, and in the first light men saw that the river had frozen over again, this time so thickly that one could walk on the ice.
Magnus came sliding merrily down it, until he reached his father's craft; there he caught the stern and twirled to a halt. "What shall we do?" he asked.
The king glowered over the side. It was a gnawing in his soul that Haakon had escaped; he told himself it mattered not, the jarl's power was broken, but that was a frosty comfort. "We must chop a way clear," he said. "The Uplanders shall not enjoy their insolence a day longer than I can help."
"So be it. Whoo-oo!" Magnus skated back on his boot soles. His ship had been last to enter the river, and thus lay closest to the lake. He cried orders to the crew, and took a hand himself.
Though the air was searingly cold, it was a bright morning, with blue shadows across an utter whiteness of snow and the ice ashimmer. The sound of axes and boat hooks made echoes bounce over the stream and back from the woods. Tired though they were from yesterday, the men worked fast, if only to keep warm; the cooks wavered across the ice with food and drink for them, and water swirled blackly in the holes they cut.
Erelong they were in sight of the lake. The ships behind Magnus' were using the channel, so that their men had less to do and came to help his. Last of all was the king's vessel. From it sprang a guardsman, Hall Otryggsson, who was renowned for his great deeds and stood high in Harald's favor. He fell to with a wild strength; the ax was blurred in his hand.
One of Magnus' crew stopped to watch, and said admiringly: "There you see it, as often before; no one can lay so much power where it's needed as Hall Kodhran's bane. See how it goes!"
A young man in the prince's following grew suddenly pale. This was Thormodh Eindridhason, who had but lately joined Magnus from the North country; it was his first taste of war, though he had already made himself a good friend of the king's son.
"Is that . . ." He gulped and asked through dry lips: "Is that indeed the Hall who slew Kodhran Gudhmundarson many years ago?"
"So it is; they had some quarrel. What of it?"
"Only this," whispered Thormodh, "that Kodhran was my mother's cousin. I was scarce a year old when he was killed, but ..."
Stumbling on the ice, he went over. Hall looked at him, puzzled, and Thormodh's ax came down. It split Hall's head to the jaws.
A bellow went up. Magnus came jumping from one loose floe to the next. "What is it?" he cried. "Have you gone mad, Thormodh?"
"No ..." The youth crossed himself and stared at the corpse. Blood and brains steamed as they flowed out onto the ice. "I was but avenging my kin."
Magnus bit his lip. "Ill is this. The king will make short work of you if he gets his hands . . . No, I'll stand by you, my friend. Quickly, let's away!"
Silent, half stunned, his crew finished their task under his barked orders. They entered the ship, got oars, and pushed into the unfrozen lake. An east wind had come up, and Magnus had mast and sail raised. The light vessel surged ahead, westward over Lake Vanem.
It was some time before the others were clear. Harald's craft was the last one out. By then he had heard the tale, and wrath boiled in him.
"That he would dare! That the lout would dare murder my own guardsman! For this I'll hang him myself. ... Set sail and after them!"
The king took the steering oar himself and nursed what speed his ship could make out of her. His face was stiff, but he gnawed his mustache and muttered to himself.
Thjodholf the skald ventured to speak: "This was a matter of blood feud, my lord."
"If Thormodh had a lawful complaint, he could have brought it before me and the Thing," said Harald. "There's been enough of men who think they are the law."
Only one man has that right? wondered the skald, but did not dare say it aloud.
The short day had worn thin when Harald's ships reached the agreed anchorage. He saw Magnus' beached there, and sprang ashore and stormed toward his son.
"Where is the murderer?" he snapped. "Bring him to me!"
The prince flinched, then gathered courage to look up into his father's eyes. "He is gone. I let him go free."
"You—!"
"He is my friend. I myself will pay the weregild and whatever fine you levy-."
Harald seized the boy's coat in both hands and shook him till his teeth rattled. "I want no monies, you cub! I want that rascal's life. Are you too in rebellion against me?"
Magnus wrenched free and clapped a hand on his sword hilt; rage darkened his cheeks and drove out fear. "Have a care, father," he said shakily. "I'm not one of your dogs."
"No—a dog keeps faith!" Harald lifted his arm and shouted through the winter dusk: "Hoy guardsmen! Come bind this puppy for judgment."
Magnus looked around; his crew, young men like himself, mustered heart and bristled behind him. "If anyone lays hands on me," said the prince, "he is a dead man."
"Then see if you dare fall on your own father!" Harald's blade whined out. Ulf and Eystein arrived. The marshal thrust his own body between the two. "What witch has been working here?" he cried. "Are you mad, that you make war on your own flesh?"
Magnus stuttered in his wrath; Harald cuffed at Ulf. "Stand aside or it'll be the worse for you. I am the king."
"Horse shit!" spat the marshal. "Take those tin swords, both of you, and cram them where they'll do the most good. Else I'll turn you brats over my knee and send you hungry to bed!"
Eystein spoke more soothingly, but his voice was not heard until the anger of father and son had bent toward Ulf. Meanwhile, Thjodholf threatened Styrkaar, who was ready to fall single-handed on Magnus' crew: "Hold back, you ruffian, or I'll spit you myself and eat you raw." The skald's sword was poised at the warrior's neck,
"Have done," begged Eystein. "In Christ's holy name, have done. Truly there must be witchcraft here; this quarrel can please none but our foes."
"Well . . ." Harald's blade drooped. "If we can lay hands on the murderer ... if you will help in that task, Magnus ..."
"That I will not," said the prince, "but I offer again to pay the fines, also one for any insult I may have shown you. A man stands behind his friends."
"You call yourself a man?" growled Harald. He clashed his sword back into the sheath. "Well, then, so be it, if you give me self-doom. I warn you the fines will be heavy."
"I can afford that." Magnus drew breath and grinned with stiff lips. "A warrior grows wealthy following you."
Harald's mouth twitched, ever so faintly. He set the penalties, and they were high, but men noted that his humor was good that evening and that he looked on his son with pride.
2
Svein Estridhsson was holding court at Roskilde when word came that a shipful of Swedes had landed and were on their way to see him. The Danish king wondered at this, but had a feast readied.
It was late the next day when the party reached him. Svein sat at his ease in the high seat. The hard-won peace had lifted care from him, he could sleep of nights and was putting on flesh; but there were thin gray streaks in his hair, and sometimes he woke up whimpering. He was richly clad, in scarlet Southland hose, a silken Eastern blouse, a broidered Russian coat tri
mmed in ermine, velvet shoes, and gold on his arms and at his throat. The great men who sat below him were scarcely less colorful.
Firelight splashed red and yellow on the man who entered. He was a tall and strongly built warrior, with curly yellow hair and a well-trimmed mustache, a tilted nose and forthright gray eyes. Behind him came a young woman of exceeding fairness, four children about her skirts, and after her the Swedish crew. All were weary and sea-stained.
"So." King Svein tugged his short beard. "We meet again, Haakon Ivarsson."
"Aye, my lord." The jarl strode boldly up, but bowed as courtesy required. "It seems I must claim your friendship."
"Well . . . you saved my life and kingdom," said Svein. "Is this your wife and family? Come, sit beside me and we'll talk of it."
Haakon sighed and gulped down the cup of wine handed him. "Know you what has happened, my lord?"
"I heard somewhat of a battle between you and King Harald."
"Aye." Haakon's tone was acrid; the youthful gaiety had left him; it was a tired grim man who sat by the Dane-king. "He put us to flight. I urged King Steinkell to make war on him for such an invasion, but Steinkell dared not." Haakon sneered his scorn. "Now I seek the only lord who ever had courage to stand against Harold Hardrede and beat him."
"There is no more war between us two," said Svein carefully. "We are both sworn to keep the peace."
"I know. It was too much to hope for. . . ." Haakon's head lowered. He was worn out by the seething within him. "Yet I'd liefer serve you, my lord, than any living man."
Svein made a lengthy business of drinking from a fresh beaker. His eyes were kind. "I think I understand you, Haakon," he said, "and you shall not find me ungrateful. The feeling over Asmund's death has died down; I can pay the weregild and threaten his kin with my displeasure if they carry on the feud. As for you—" He paused. "I have no jarl in Halland since Finn Arnason died, and a good man is needed. He must ward the shire against Wends and Norse alike."
He regarded Haakon narrowly. "Yet homesickness has smitten you erenow."
"Norway is not my home," sighed the other. "Not while Harald and his cursed brood reign. I've no wish to see it again in chains."
"Then we will take oaths tomorrow, and you shall be my jarl." Svein smiled and slapped Haakon on the back and signaled for more wine. "Come, friend, here's an end to your wanderings. I too have known landlessness and been tossed in many storms; but the storms pass, and a reed lives where an oak has been uprooted. Let your folk strike root in Denmark and flourish!"
Haakon smiled back; it cost him an effort. "I thank you, my lord," he said. "To a fresh beginning—skaal!"
Svein clinked beakers with him. "A new beginning for us all," he said.
Thereafter Haakon Ivarsson dwelt in Halland. He steered it well, guarded it bravely, and lived long years as jarl. But his kindred marked that he was not the glad warrior he had been.
3
After his journey into Varmland, Harald came back to Oslo, but waited there only to raise a new host. He levied it from the Dale and nearby shires—men who had no deep love for the Laplanders—and took it into Raumariki the same winter.
Folk in steadings and hamlets woke to find their homes ringed in by spears. They were haled forth, and the king himself towered there to accuse them.
They had not known he had so many spies; some thought in the thunder of their brains that he must have used witchcraft to learn so closely what each yeoman had done and said. He ripped forth judgment: death for some, hands or feet lopped off for others, everything they owned taken from most. Women and children stumbled weeping into the snow as their homes were fired.
The word ran through the mountains, and folk fled where they could; more and more empty houses met the royal troop. These were looted and burned like any enemy's, kine were slaughtered and left to the crows, cribs set ablaze. Hunger would stalk the Uplands that year.
A few tried to make a stand. They were quickly beaten down, and those who did not escape were hanged.
Smoke rose on the slopes, and ravens grew fat. As he rode along in the van of the army, Thjodholf made a verse:
"The deep-minded tamer of Denmark
drives with tightened reins now
(striking with his stalwarts)
straight the Upland yeomen.
'Brands they'll get for bread!'
So bade the king. The leaping
balefires brought the people
back unto their senses."
"That was well spoken," said Styrkaar. He slapped a muscled thigh. "Ha, I thought we'd have men to meet, but it's a war against mice!"
Harald said nothing. He was short spoken on this trip.
Thjodholf dropped a ways back to ride beside Eystein. The sheriff looked pained. "I never thought you a bootlicker," he said.
"I see you here among the rest of us," answered the skald sharply.
"Aye, being the king's sworn man; yet I've not hidden from him that this work turns my guts."
Thjodholf shrugged. "I could not do it at all, did I not tell myself this is a needful thing."
The creak of saddles and plop of hoofs were loud in the winter quiet. "In truth," said Eystein, "the realm must have a strong king if it's to endure; yet would God that were not so!"
They saw Ulf, ahead of them, raise a flask to his lips. The marshal was often drunk these days.
The snows melted, and spring bloomed while the long-drawn strife went on. It was slow, seeking out every nest of stubborn folk in this huge and tilted land. When Raumariki was broken, the host went on through Heidhmark and down again through Hadhaland and the king's own birth shire Hringariki, where his brothers were cold to him though they had not rebelled. Desolation lay in his track. Most of the warriors were well pleased; the fighting was easy and the plunder good.
The months dragged by, summer came where fields lay fallow; it was not till near fall that the yeomen finally gave up. They sent a group of haggard half-starved men to speak for them, laying their whole case in the king's hand. It was two years since they had first raised themselves against him —some reckoned it as three, counting from the time Haakon began the trouble by letting Svein go—and it would be many years more before the Uplands were healed.
Harald named certain leaders who must be given over to him for execution, and laid heavy fines on the rest. "But terms may be set for paying these off," he added. "It is not our will to ruin you, though you betrayed and sought to ruin us."
When the work was finished, he disbanded his army and led the Viken men down to Oslo. A cloud was off his soul, he was merry again; it was as if a thunderstorm had washed his skies clean, and a new day waited.
Bells rang when he entered the town, and folk came out to see, albeit few cheered. He spurred his horse to a swift trot, banners flew and harness jingled as his warriors went to the royal hall.
Elizabeth was not there to greet him; Thora gave such a glad welcome that he scarce noticed that at first. It was not till the next day that he wondered where his wife and daughters had been.
He crossed the courtyard to her house. Sunlight streamed from heaven, the fjord danced and glittered, the dying summer welled forth in a last passion of green. Harald whistled as he walked, and rapped loudly on the door.
A serving woman opened it. "Is the queen here?" he asked.
"Yes, my lord." She gave him a frightened look. "I will tell her."
"I will myself," he said. "Let the housefolk take themselves elsewhere."
They scuttled from him like ants as he went into the main room. Elizabeth sat with her daughters, spinning yarn. The girls started when he loomed in the doorway, but their mother hardly stirred. When she looked around, he saw how thin she was. Her face had blanched and darkness lay in her eyes.
Fear struck him. "Are you ill?" he said.
"Maria, Ingigerdh, leave us," she murmured. He stood puzzled while they did so. Elizabeth set down her spindle.
Harald stooped over her and stroked the faintly-lined fo
rehead. "There seems to be no fever," he said.
Her voice became weary. "Do not touch me. You've too much blood on your hands,"
He dropped them. "So you liked not what I did this year?" he asked slowly.
"I never thought you would murder helpless folk."
Through a thickness in his gullet, he answered: "What would you have me do? If those shires had gone scot-free, how long do you think it would be till the whole land rose against us?"
"The land should." Still no tone was in her words. Her hands rested in her lap; he saw the fine blue tracery of veins. "A king who makes himself hated is not worthy to be king."
Harald kicked a stool over and sat down before her. He took her hands in his, where they lay cold and unstirring.
"Ellisif," he said, "it was not my wish to fare thus. Think you I like to see a man jerk out his life on a rope's end? Think you it pleasures me when women and children and grandsires are left in the snow without a roof?"
She raised blind wild eyes. "Then why did you do it?" she cried.
"For the kingdom, for . . . my sons and daughters, and those who'll come after them. It is said in Holy Writ: 'If thine eye offend thee, pluck it out.' "
She spoke with chill: "I liked you better as a simple warrior, a plain lusty Viking who could kill men in honest hate and greed. It ill becomes you to talk like a priest."
He sat quiet for a while. Then, heavily: "I sought but to give you the reasons, Ellisif. I'll not deny I was wrathful, and that I liked trading sword strokes. God has so made me that I cannot be second man to anyone. If a man flouts me, one of us must die."
"And did babes in arms raise a flag against you?" she asked bitterly. "I think of children whose bellies are swollen by hunger, who freeze to death. ..."
"I've heard of none such." He tried to laugh. "Oh, no doubt a few were unlucky, but that is war. You were ready enough to let me hack and burn in Denmark."
"And now I am ready to go home," she said. He sat dead still.
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