by C. R. May
Beowulf nodded.
Hjalti smiled and looked back at Beowulf.
“I think that I can help you, lord, but it would take me several hours. Would you like to wait or shall I return it to you this evening?”
Beowulf turned to Eanmund.
“I want to wait. I feel naked without my sword. Will you wait with us or return to the hall?”
“That rather depends on the refreshments available. What do you have Hjalti?”
The smith smiled.
“It just so happens that I had a visit from my brother at the end of summer. He brought casks of mead and cider from the South. I would be honoured to share one with you, lords.”
Beowulf looked across to Cola who was rummaging amongst the finished blades.
“Cola, Hjalti has some mead and cider. Shall we see what it tastes like?”
Cola grinned widely, revealing his line of famously green teeth. They were the result of ‘too much mead’ he had announced proudly to Beowulf and his foster father Hygelac at their first meeting in Geatwic.
“You know me lord. I’ll try anything once!”
They had spent the rest of the afternoon happily seated around the barrel of cider thoughtfully supplied by Hjalti’s brother. Cola had insisted that he take over the bellows from Hjalti’s young assistant.
“I have worked a bellows before and it is my lord’s sword,” he had explained.
Beowulf and Eanmund had smiled delightedly as Cola had proceeded to explain to the vastly more experienced master sword smith Hjalti how to gauge the moment when the metal was the correct temperature for working. The smith looked across at them in exasperation as Cola blithely continued.
“You see, it’s just right now. You see those sparks jumping around. It is taking what are known as ‘hitz’. It’s the colour of butter, you can work it now.”
The boy reappeared with fresh bread, cheese and fish as Hjalti gently hammered the sword back into shape. When he was finally satisfied that the sword was perfectly straight once more he quenched it and let it cool. Finally he swabbed the blade with a weak acid to restore the pattern and reattached the hilt.
Hjalti admired the sword one final time before handing it back to Beowulf.
“There you are, lord, as good as new. That is a beautiful blade. Can I ask you what you know of its history?”
Beowulf looked on his restored sword with pride. It had been a gift from his mother when he had passed the tests of manhood and been initiated into the warrior elite. He only knew that it had been in his mother’s family for generations. Hjalti nodded.
“I can tell you a few things about it. It was originally made by a master smith on the River Rin, the great river which now marks the border between the Francs and the Alemanni, during the time of the Roman Emperors. The mark of the maker and workshop is stamped on the tang, the long pointed extension of the blade which is encased inside the hilt. The Romans had numerous workshops in the area because of the supply of iron to be found there and the expertise of the local smiths in pattern welding blades. It has seen a lot of action during its time but it’s still good for a while yet. Quality always lasts lord. You can confidently look forward to watching its exploits from valhall in the hands of your grandson!” Beowulf was overjoyed to have found out some of the history of his blade. He now possessed two Roman swords it would seem.
Eanmund paid for the work and hospitality on Beowulf’s behalf. As he explained, “the blade was damaged in the service of Swedish interests. The least we can do is pay for the repairs!”
They had finally managed to drag Cola away from where he had been busy arranging the tongs, punches and files in size order, much to the annoyance of the apprentice whose responsibility it was.
Beowulf swung himself unsteadily up and onto his mount at the third attempt. The drink had been good.
“Thank you for everything, Hjalti. That was good cider, where does your brother get it?”
“He’s a trader over in Trondelag, lord, he owns a knarr there. He trades in the South during the summer months and visits me every autumn.”
Beowulf nodded.
“Before the passes are snowbound.”
“Oh, the pass to Trondelag is rarely blocked by snow, lord. Thor, old red beard, keeps it open most of the time. Even the sea remains free of ice all the way up the coast of Noregr. He can journey inshore all year round if he needs to!”
They waved farewell and regained the road which led to the ferry. It was beginning to grow dark again as the short northern day drew to a close. It had been a good day, no, a great day. His sword stood proudly once more in its scabbard. He was full of cider and good bread and fish and the beginnings of a plan were forming in his mind.
Cola belched as they approached the ferry.
“What a good man that Hjalti is. He looked like he appreciated my help though. I think that I will try to get over there more often.”
Beowulf and Eanmund exchanged an amused smile.
“Yes Cola, you should. He would like that.”
“Here lord, this is the one.” Finn pointed to a nondescript boathouse, one of dozens which lined the shore of the fjord. Unlike their home in the South there were very few strands in Noregr on which to beach the boats. In most places the land fell sharply to the sea and places to haul a boat ashore were scarce, highly sought after and generally limited to the few towns.
There was no doorway at the rear of the building so Beowulf, Gunnar and Cola followed Finn down between the building and its neighbour, careful not to step in the usual filth and rubbish which always seemed to accumulate in such places.
Along the shore a man squatted beside the jetty and defecated into the sea. At least they had some sense of order here. It had been dark between the buildings, too dark to see everything which had littered the floor.
“Are you sure this is the one?”
Finn nodded confidently.
“Yes, lord. There is only one ship master called Helgi in Trondelag and this is his boathouse.”
They could hear men working at the rear of the building and Beowulf ducked his head between the hull of the boat and the side wall as he entered the dimly lit space. Gunnar lightly touched his sleeve to draw his attention and Beowulf turned his head to face his hearth warrior. Gunnar slowly placed a finger to his lip and indicated above. He carefully raised three fingers, listened, and added another. Beowulf nodded and felt the hilt of his gladius.
If there were three or four men above them there were very likely to be others moving around to their rear. He looked back but was pleased to see that Cola, bringing up the rear of the line, had already realised what was happening and had turned to face back the way they had come.
“Can I help you?”
A figure had moved into the light of the brands which lit the rear of the boathouse. He was dressed in dirty working clothes and his hands and arms were caked in tar. In his hand he still held the sharp edged hammer which ship builders used to drive the caulking into the seams of their ships in an effort to make them watertight. Although it was only a shipyard tool it would make an ideal weapon in the confined space in which they found themselves, punching easily through a skull whether it was wearing a helm or not.
“We are looking for a man named Helgi. We believe that this is his boathouse. Am I correct?”
The man withdrew a brand and held it forward trying to pierce the gloomy interior, coincidentally throwing his own features into sharp relief. Beowulf could see instantly that Finn had found the right place. The man ahead of them was clearly Hjalti’s brother.
“There was a man in the port called Helgi but he left several days ago. I doubt that we will see him again until the spring, lord.”
Helgi could see well enough now to realise he was being sought by a man of high rank. The reason why that might be he was obviously frantically attempting to think of before he revealed his identity.
Beowulf smiled disarmingly.
“That is a great shame. We had hoped to buy
some of the delicious cider which we enjoyed at his brother’s forge recently.”
Helgi carefully studied Beowulf before answering.
“That is a shame, lord. I had a drink with Helgi before he left. He told me all about his brother Hakon and the forge in Svartvik.”
“That must have been his other brother. The brother I know is called Hjalti and has a forge in Ost Sund. He also has a big black dog called Garm which barks at all the customers. It’s lucky that he is such a fine sword smith or the dog might scare them off.”
Beowulf watched as Helgi relaxed and fitted the brand back into its wall bracket.
“I am sorry for the unfriendly welcome, lord, shipyards can be dangerous places. It pays to stay on your toes.”
“Perhaps you can tell the men above and behind us to relax then Helgi? I find it much more comfortable talking without my hand on my sword hilt.”
Helgi laughed.
“Of course, lord. Come down lads, there’s no problem.”
“My name is Beowulf and these are my hearth companions, Gunnar, Finn and Cola. I want to charter your ship and crew for a round trip somewhere to the South. I need to travel as soon as possible if my plan is to work. Your brother told me you were just the man to see. Was he right?”
“My brother is always right, lord, he is older than me! I take it that we would not be welcome where we are going?”
“Only in certain quarters but I have many friends there. We will be in little real danger if we have surprise on our side and you will be well rewarded.”
“Well rewarded eh, the key which unlocks so many doors! It looks as though you have yourself a ship and crew lord.”
Helgi glanced up and shouted into the gloom.
“We are off on a trip boys! Finish up here and say your goodbyes tonight, we are sailing on the morning tide.”
Helgi turned back to Beowulf.
“Have you found yourself a place to stay in Trondelag? I have a modest hall in the town but there is space for you all.” He offered generously.
“That is good of you Helgi. I accept your offer of hospitality.”
Helgi left the rest of the crew to finish the caulking and prepare the ship for sea as he led them away from the waterfront.
“My hall is not far from here. It will be good to get away from the stinking town and back to the clear sea air, even at this time of the year.”
Soon the horses were approaching a sturdily built hall overlooking the fjord. Clearly Helgi had been very successful in his trading activities. Beowulf was pleased. Such a man would surround himself with an able and hard working crew. Helgi interrupted his thoughts as they rode up to the gates of the stables.
“You never mentioned how my brother was keeping, lord. Is he still wearing those coloured hair ties which I brought him from Francia?”
Beowulf had to laugh. Clearly he could not have chosen a more careful man to entrust with the undertaking.
“Not unless he uses them in a place only his wife would notice. You and I both know that your brother has less hair on his head than a pebble!”
They left Trondelag early the next morning under leaden skies. Skirting the southern shore of the fjord Helgi and his crew tacked skilfully westwards. By mid morning they were approaching the mouth of the fjord.
Helgi leaned towards Beowulf and shouted above the freshening wind.
“We will turn sharply south as we leave the fjord and pass between the islands before making a camp on the shore for the night. I want to see what the weather has in store for us before I make a final decision as to our route. I fear that we will have to head out to sea with this wind. It will cost us time but it can’t be helped I am afraid.”
Gunnar was at Beowulf’s side. He was still a seaman at heart and he relished any sea trip.
“He is afraid of getting caught against a lee shore, lord.” He explained.
Helgi overheard and nodded. He elaborated.
“Once the wind blows at this time of year it can blow steadily for three weeks or more. If you have a rocky shore to leeward, downwind, there is very little that you can do to keep from being dashed against it if the wind rises; Very unhealthy.”
Gunnar explained further.
“This is a deep sea knarr, lord. It’s built far more sturdily than the ones we use at home. It has a heavy keel protruding beneath the centre of the hull, that’s one of the reasons they don’t beach their ships, they would tip over on their side. It also helps to stop the ship being driven sideways by the wind in a heavy sea. These ships only carry small crews so they rely more on sails than we do. This is the first time that I have sailed in one though, this is great!”
Beowulf smiled at Gunnar’s boyish excitement. He was an experienced sailor in the Baltic and on the great lakes at home but the prospect of a trip on the great German Sea during the autumn gale season was the realisation of a long held ambition. He wished that he could share the excitement. He glanced over at the great mass of iron grey waters waiting for them beyond the mouth of the fjord.
Maybe this was not such a great idea after all!
They dropped the anchor in a small sheltered bay late in the afternoon. Puffin, Helgi’s knarr, carried a small rowing boat amidships and this was used to ferry the men ashore for the evening. In a short while they had collected enough driftwood for the night and had settled around the camp fire.
As they watched the thick meaty stew simmering before them Helgi announced that he had decided to take them out to sea in the morning, well away from the deadly lee shore. The wind was already rising and experience told him to expect heavy weather.
“We’ll see what sort of seaman you are then, Gunnar!” he teased.
The stew restored the warmth to their bodies and they relaxed as the cask of ale was opened. It would be the last time for many days that they could sleep deeply, safe in the knowledge that they would not be called upon to cope with any number of dangers which could strike without warning on the deep sea. They intended to make the most of the opportunity.
As the cask was handed around Helgi called across to Beowulf.
“How was the journey across the pass, lord?”
Beowulf was puzzled. Several of his crew instinctively touched the talismans and good luck charms which hung about their necks. He was even sure that he had seen at least two of them make the sign to avert evil.
“The journey was fine. There was very little snow and the pass was clear all the way across.”
“Did you see anything unusual, lord?”
One of Helgi’s crew was leaning forward anxiously.
“Cola saw a giant. That was about all really. It did get really windy a few times though. We could hardly make our way forward at one stage!”
“You shouldn’t joke about such things, lord. What did the giant do?”
The sailors looked horrified at Beowulf’s nonchalant reply.
“Whatever Cola did. It must have been a strange trick of the light up there. The clouds came down and enveloped us. Luckily the path ahead was obvious or we would have had to stop until it cleared. Suddenly we saw a giant off to one side following us. He stopped when we did and increased his pace to match ours.”
Beowulf stopped and poured himself another cup of ale. He had learned that it was a good way to keep an audience captivated.
“How did you know that it was not a real giant then, lord?” The crew man asked.
“I hit Cola on the head with my spear shaft. Unless the giant also felt the pain and held his head it had to be something like a shadow cast on the clouds.”
They all laughed and toasted Cola’s bruised skull.
“Still, you wouldn’t get me anywhere near that pass at this time of the year, lord,” the man continued. “There are trolls up there for certain. Many people have seen them, the ones that come back that is. Someone in Trondelag saw Odin up there once on his eight legged horse!”
Beowulf laughed at the man’s fearful expression.
“Trolls and Odin?�
� he declared. “I would count myself lucky to meet either!”
The next day they left the shelter of the bay and headed out into the heaving waters of the German Sea. Helgi had explained the previous evening that they would have taken the leads south at any other time to speed their passage, but at this time of the year it would have meant almost certain death.
“The leads are the waterways which wend their way through the hundreds of islands which gird the coast of Noregr. In calmer months they are a great source of shelter but you cannot use them for the whole length of the coast. Sometimes you need to leave them and enter the great waters beyond, and in the winter the seas are just too powerful that close to a lee shore. It is safer to leave the coastline far behind.”
The size of the waves increased fourfold as soon as they cleared the last spit of land, the Puffin rising and falling as it beat its way west. Beowulf leaned on the wale as they passed a group of Herring gulls tearing at the carcass of what looked to be a seal, seemingly oblivious to the rolling waves around them.
Beowulf watched, impressed, as Helgi’s crew went about their duties with great skill and independence. As he had thought back in Trondelag, Helgi was not the type of man who would scrimp on pay if his own life depended on it. He obviously paid for, and got, the best seamen available. He would do the same.
All of this was lost on poor Cola who was lying in the waist of the ship retching with every roll of the ship. Of all the men on the ship he was the least experienced at sea and his body was paying the price. Soon he was too weak to even lift his head to puke and just retched where he lay.
“Two days, maybe three if he is unlucky. He’ll have his sea legs then and you won’t be able to keep him still he will have so much energy. I have seen it before, they do get better but if it affects you there is no cure. He’ll be the same on the way home.”
Beowulf nodded his thanks to Helgi. He did not enjoy seeing the big man so helpless but he was an important member of his hearth troop. He would just have to accept the misery if they journeyed in these waters again.