Ned, the son of Webb: What he did.

by William Osborn Stoddard

  CHAPTER IV.

  BEHIND THE TIMES.

  "I wish I had on a better rig," thought Ned, very naturally. "I looklike anything."

  He felt that he was going in among entire strangers, and that he wasnot by any means in company dress. He had come out fishing in a pairof blue flannel trousers and a blue woollen outing shirt, with canvasshoes, and wearing the low, brown felt hat he had dived in yesterday.It was dry now, but not handsome. He lowered his sail and began topaddle slowly along, thinking of all sorts of things, and watchingsharply for whatever might turn up. He studied the sloop at anchor, ashe went past it, and declared that it was a queer enough craft to lookat. It was very long, and it was low amidships, with big thole-pinsalong the rails, as if it were planned to operate occasionally as arowboat. The stern of it rose very high, so that it might contain acabin, and so did the bow. Projecting from the latter was an iron-cladbeak. It was chisel-edged, and Ned remarked:

  "That's a ram, but she doesn't look much like a ship-of-war. Ourironclads have rams, but they never get near enough to other ships tostrike with them. Our fighting has to be done with long-range guns.Well! I never saw her like before. Hullo! I see it! She is made likethe Norse pirate pictures in that book! She is one of them!"

  He was eager enough to go forward now, and he rowed with his eyes atwork in all directions. The landing-place was now not far ahead of him.It was provided with a pretty substantial wharf, made of logs andstones. From this a pier of similar construction ran out about fiftyfeet into the harbour. Upon the deck of the pier, and on the wharf, andalong the beach, were scattered men and women, and there were a numberof stout-looking rowboats hitched here and there, or pulled up on theshore.

  Ned ceased rowing for a full half-minute to stare intensely at thepeople, and then he exclaimed:

  "I guess I'm right about it. These chaps are out and out Norsemen! Thatbiggest man wears an iron topknot, too, and he carries a spear. Everyman of 'em has a short sword at his belt, and those are all what thebook calls seaxes. I know where I am now. I'm in for it! But how onearth am I ever to get home again in time for supper?"

  That particular anxiety, and almost everything else, was speedilydriven out of his head as he paddled his punt in among thefishing-boats at the pier. It came very near astonishing him, however,that not a soul among them seemed to be at all surprised at seeinghim. They paid him no especial attention after they had hailed him,and after he had replied to them in the language which he had learnedat home from old Erica. She herself had told him that her speech wasnot exactly the Norwegian of the printed books. She could not evenread them very well, for she had been born up among the mountainsand fiords, where the country people still talked the ancient Norsedialect, which could sometimes hardly be understood by town folk.

  That is, he knew already that Norway, in that particular, was very muchlike parts of England, Scotland, Ireland, and several other countries.

  As for the manner in which he was received, it was possible that hisrig, which had made him nervous, was in his favour. He was really verymuch better dressed than were any of these fisher people. They allbowed to him politely, and he heard them say something about his beinga young jarl. He had some idea of the meaning of that term, but he didnot just now feel like a highly aristocratic boy.

  The man who wore the long-nosed steel cap and carried the spear wasvery busy giving directions to the others, and was evidently some sortof captain among them. Just as Ned stepped from the pier to the wharf,however, he saw something that almost took his breath away, and he paidno more attention to anything else.

  "Isn't he splendid!" he exclaimed. "It's the first time I ever saw aman in armour."

  Not many paces away, and coming slowly and with dignity, was a tall,gray-bearded, powerful-looking Norseman. He carried no shield, but hewore a coat of link-mail that glittered in the sunshine. The spear inhis hand was long, with a straight blade that was broad and brightlypolished. His helmet was open in front, and was ornamented on top by asmall pair of gilded wings. His face was handsome, and he smiled verygood-humouredly as Ned stepped forward to meet him.

  "I am Vebba, son of Bjorn," he said. "Thou art welcome. Who art thou?"

  "I am Ned Webb. I went out fishing, and I came in by the fiord."

  "Ned, son of Webb?" replied the Viking. "Thou art of the south havenmen. I know them not well. Come thou to my house. I will meet thyfather when he cometh to the gathering."

  "I shall be glad to come," said Ned, with his best manners, but he wasthinking, "Meet my father? Well! I don't believe he will. I've a prettyclear notion that father won't be there."

  "All mine have been fishing also," said Vebba, as he turned to walkaway, Ned following with him. "Thou must know that we are salting andsmoking every fin we can pull in, that the ships of Harold Hardrada'sfleet may not sail without plentiful provisions when he and TostigGodwinson harness the steeds of the sea to bear the heroes of the Northto the conquest of England."

  Ned's heart gave a great thump, and Vebba must have noticed how hisface flushed with sudden delight, for he laughed loudly and said to him:

  "Thou art but young to join in a feast of swords, but we will armthee and thou shalt sail with us to the shore of Britain. There willbe grand fighting when we close with the Saxon host that will meet usunder Harold the King."

  "That's just what I'd like to see!" exclaimed Ned. "Of all things! I'vealways wanted to conquer England, and now I'm to have a tip-top chance.When do you all expect to go?"

  "It hath taken long to build ships," replied Vebba. "The keels ofHardrada will be fifteen score, and Tostig hath already as many asthree score with him at Bruges. We wait, now, only for the outfitting.Let us walk on to the house."

  Ned had noticed that, with the exception of Vebba, all whom he hadyet seen were barefooted. The chief, however,--for there could be nodoubt about his rank,--wore sandals that were strapped to his feet andankles by broad thongs of leather. Most of the other men wore leathernblouses, which reminded Ned of some buckskin hunting-shirts he hadseen pictures of. The women were supplied with gowns, some of whichwere of coarse woollen stuff and some of leather. All of the garmentswere more or less fish-soiled, and not a few were ragged. "No stylehere," thought Ned. "I wonder, though, if a steel cap feels heavy ona fellow's head. Perhaps it doesn't when one gets used to it. Oh, butI'm glad I can understand them. I'd be in the worst kind of fix if Icouldn't."

  The fish which had been brought to the shore in the boats were veryfine. Ned saw cod, haddock, herring, salmon, and some that he was notfamiliar with. Heaviest of all was a great porpoise they had spearedand that lay on the sand ready for cutting up for war purposes. He hadnever before heard of sea-pigs being eaten.

  The village lay somewhat farther from the landing than it had atfirst appeared, looking at it from the water. It was in a narrowvalley between two rugged, mountainous ridges, and all around it werebroad fields of cultivated land. Most of the houses were low-roofedand small, constructed of logs and stones and tempered clay that wasused to stop chinks and holes with. Three or four of a better sortwere built, in part at least, of hewn logs and planks and prettyfair-looking stone-work, but all were irregular in plan and as if theyhad been builded at random. Of these larger dwellings, the roofs werehigh-pitched, differing altogether from the mere cabins. Ned did notsee any chimneys, and he knew why, after his armoured guide had led himinto the most extensive house, at the upper end of the village. It wasmore like a collection of houses around one huge affair in the middle,and this, when he entered it, seemed to be all one room or hall.

  "Hullo!" thought Ned. "There's their fireplace, in the middle of thefloor, and the smoke gets out at that hole in the roof, if it can.Well, no, there isn't any floor but the earth except at the end, awaythere at the left. There's a pretty wide plank platform there."

  On this "dais," raised about a foot above the hard beaten earth of therest of the level, he saw a long table, around which were benches andchairs of various kinds. In the middle, behind the table,
was one veryhigh-backed chair of oak, that was covered with grotesque carving.

  "That's the dinner-table," he said to himself. "It's big enough for aNew York hotel. There are benches and bunks all around the sides ofthe room. Six windows, too, and not a sash in one of them. That's goodenough for summer, but what do they do in winter?"

  He had to leave that question unsettled, so many others were comingalong. The earth floor seemed to be as hard as stone, but it could nothave been swept recently. There were neither carpets nor rugs, but inone corner he saw a spinning-wheel and what looked like a hand-loomfor weaving. In another corner was a strong stone-work, at the sideof which was an anvil, against which a large bellows was leaning. Theclothing he had seen had told him that these people knew what to dowith wool and flax.

  He was quickly compelled to cut off his observations, for now a tall,handsome, yellow-haired woman came forward and shook hands with him,telling him that she was Wiltna, the wife of Vebba. Following her wereother women, and at least a dozen of boys and girls, whose severalnames he had a great deal of difficulty in catching. He did best of allwith one tall, red-haired youngster of about his own age.

  "I am Lars, son of Vebba," he said, loudly. "Come with me, and see thehawks and hounds. Let us get away from so many women. I am glad thouart come."

  In an instant Ned began to feel at home. What would he have done in acountry where there were no boys!--if there ever was such a forlornland as that.

  He and Lars were like old friends in a minute, but they had onlyto get out of the house to see some of the dogs. A pair of tall,ferocious-looking wolf-hounds came bounding toward them, not barking,but uttering strange, short howls of greeting, and showing dangerousrows of sharp, white teeth. Lars wrestled for a moment with one ofthem, boxing the animal's ears fearlessly, and Ned made friends withthe other. On they all went, then, to a low building behind the house,from which a chorus of howls arose as they drew near.

  "Pups that are only half trained," said Lars. "We have to keep 'em shutup. If they and some of the older savages got out, we might never see'em again. They'd go hunting on their own account, or they'd get amongthe sheep; then they'd be worse than wolves, for the shepherd dogswouldn't fight them."

  It was hardly necessary for Ned to ask questions, so eager was Lars toentertain him, and to tell him the name and character of all the dogsin all the kennels, older and younger. They went to the stables, afterthat, and to a paddock.

  "Horses enough," thought Ned, "but only a very few of them are largeones. Nanny could run out of sight of anything I've seen here. They'rea clumsy-looking lot, and the carts and the harness are all theroughest kind. They don't seem to know what a buckle is, and the wheelsare a sight to see. They make pretty good saddles, though. Now for thehawks. I want to see 'em."

  On went Lars to his bird-cages, beyond the stables, and here was whatNed called "the biggest kind of poultry show."

  There were more than twenty falcons, of all sorts, in Vebba's falconry.All of them were leading dull and tedious lives, sitting on perches,and several of them were not only fettered but hooded. Lars transferredone of these from its perch to his own wrist, over which he wore athick leather guard to protect the skin from the sharp talons of thebird.

  "Come on!" he said. "I'll show thee. There won't be any game in sight,but I'll fly him, and call him. I trained him myself. He's a gerfalcon.Hardrada's brother gave him to father after the fight with the piratesat Croning's Fiord. Father killed five of them, and took one of theirboats. It was almost big enough for a ship. It got sunk, though, lastwinter, by the ice."

  So they chatted, back and forth, as they walked along together, awayout of the village. They met people who bowed and greeted them, butno other boys seemed to feel at liberty to join them. Ned learned,afterward, that it was considered bad manners for anybody to interferewith hawking or any other kind of sport.

  Suddenly Lars uttered a short, sharp cry, as he looked upward, and thefalcon began to ruffle his feathers.

  "A heron!" exclaimed Lars. "He is well up, but my bird can reach him."

  Off came the falcon's hood, and his brilliant eyes winked rapidly asthey were getting accustomed again to the light.

  "WITH A STRONG MOTION THEN HE THREW HIS HAWK UPWARD."]

  "He seeth!" shouted Lars. "I'll cast him!" With a strong motion thenhe threw his hawk upward, blowing a shrill screech upon a bone whistlethat hung by a cord of braided leather around his neck.

  "Hurrah!" exclaimed Ned, as the beautiful hawk spread his pinions andsailed swiftly away. "He seeth the heron!"

  His own eyes could not see the game very well, so high in the air itwas flying, and the sunlight dazzled him.

  Higher, higher, in great circles, the falcon sped upward until he aroseabove the now frightened and screaming heron.

  "He will strike soon!" said Lars. "See! He is swooping! He neverfaileth! He is the king of gerfalcons!"

  At that moment the falcon seemed to Ned a mere speck against the sky,while the heron was flying lower, as if its fear bore it downward.Then the speck above it disappeared for a moment, so like a flash oflightning was the unerring pounce of the well-trained bird of prey.

  "Struck! Well struck!" shouted Lars. "Forward, now; we must be withthem at their falling."

  It was not far that they had to run, and Ned kept well abreast of hisyoung Norse comrade. He saw the hawk and the heron strike the earthtogether, fluttering and struggling, and then the game lay motionless.Forward darted Lars, before the falcon released the grip of his talons,and in a moment more the bird's bright eyes were hooded again.

  "He shall not tear," said Lars. "It would harm his training."

  Nevertheless, his favourite screamed angrily as he was restored to thewrist of his master.

  "Thou knowest," said Lars, "that no hawk will come to a whistle whenhis talons are in. It is only when they miss that thou canst call themback."

  "Do your hawks ever miss?" asked Ned.

  "Often," said Lars. "Or else there were soon no more herons. All ofthese long-billed fowl will fight, too. I have seen an old heron kill afalcon, spiking him."

  "I've read about it," thought Ned, "and I'm glad I've seen it done.It's great!"

  "Now, houseward," said Lars, picking up the heron. "Didst thou everslay a wild boar?"

  "I never did," confessed Ned.

  "Then I am ahead of thee," exulted Lars. "It was but a week ago that mytwo hounds and I brought a fine one to bay in the gorge of the northmountain thou seest yonder. My father would have held me back, had hebeen there, but I went in alone. When the boar charged out, my spearwent through his heart and the hounds pulled him down. Angry was Vebba,but he bade the carles cut me out the tusks to keep for a prize."

  "There are wolves and bears in the forest mountains?" inquired Ned.

  "That there are, and many," replied Lars, "but who would go taking themin the summer-time, when their fur is short and thin? No man careth fora bear-skin or a wolf-skin, save in winter, when the fur is full uponthem. If thou art here next winter, I will show thee sport. Ye peopleof the lower fiords and the towns have small enjoyment, I think, savein going to sea. This raid on Britain is to be my first long voyage. Myfather saith that thou art to sail with us."

  "I wouldn't miss it for anything," said Ned. "Canst thou throw a spear?"

  "I will show thee soon," said Lars. "But I will not throw before themen lest they say I am but young. How art thou with a sword?"

  "Try me!" exclaimed Ned. "I am better with a sword than with a spear."

  Then he remarked, to himself:

  "I don't believe he ever had a better fencing-master than I did. We'llsee."

  They were soon at the house, and, to Ned's surprise, it was old Vebbahimself who ordered his son into what he called the house of arms. Itwas only a kind of barn of split logwork at the right of the centraldwelling. It had a good earthen floor, however, and its walls insidewere hung with many weapons.

  "So," thought Ned, "is the great hall in yonder. I'm going to take a
good look at them, by and by."

  "Take this light shield," said Vebba to Ned, "and this thin blade. Itis heavy enough for thee. Thou wilt first fence with Svip, the son ofPend."

  "No shield," said Ned, a little proudly, putting it down on the floor."Let him punch away at me."

  Several grown-up Vikings were standing around watching, and they alluttered exclamations of surprise, but Svip, a youth as tall as Lars,stepped promptly forward, sword in hand. Neither of them wore armour,but the shield of Svip was a pretty heavy weight for a fencer tocarry,--unless the other fencer should also be weighted.

  Svip was even irritated by something in the confident manner of Ned,the son of Webb, and he attacked vigorously, striking and pushing. Ofcourse it was not intended that any hurt should be done. The swordswere blunt on edge and point, and the hilts were basketed with strongsteelwork. On each boy's head was also a thick bull-hide cap, servingas a helmet. No blow of those dull blades could split such a cap.

  In half a minute there were loud exclamations of admiration, for Ned'sfencing-master at home had indeed been a good one. Svip, the son ofPend, had no chance with him whatever, for there was no science at allin him. He was even forced across the room with several hard raps uponhis leathern helmet, and then he was disarmed, his sword flying fromhis hand.

  "Thou art a young swordsman!" shouted Vebba. "Thou mayest go withHardrada. Thy father will be proud of thee. Thou shalt give Lars hislessons in thy skill of fence. Try thou a spear."

  Ned looked at the light javelins they brought out, and he did not wishto let them see how little he knew of spears; but a wooden target wasset, and the other boys made their casts. It was his turn, and he couldnot back out. He imitated their manner of swaying and balancing, andthen he sent his javelin.

  "All an accident," he thought, "but I landed mine between theirs."

  "Thou throwest well," said Vebba. "Take now a shield and let us see ifthou canst catch as well as throw."

  Ned was silent, for at that moment Lars stepped forth, shield on armand spear in hand, to let the other youngsters throw headless javelinsat him at ten paces.

  "That's the way they do it, is it?" he said, to himself, as Lars caughtthrow after throw upon his shield, quite skilfully. "Any baseballcatcher can beat that. I'm the best catcher in our nine. I can pitch,too. I can stop one of those things."

  It was his turn next. He did not actually throw down the shield, thistime, but he held it close to him and parried with only his spear-shaftthe throws of Lars and the others. Only one cast went by his guard toring against the shield.

  "It is the better way," said Vebba. "It is the skill of old warriors. Ican catch the spears of battle on sword or axe. Thou wilt need the lessarmour. But who may parry the swift arrow? Thou wilt need good mailfor English arrows."

  Long and tiresome was the exercise, but it terminated suddenly, for thesound of a horn blast came loudly through the open door.

  "Dinner!" exclaimed Lars. "Oh, Ned, the son of Webb, all we are readyto eat. I am ever glad to hear the sound of that crooked horn. Let usgo."

  Whatever was Ned's reply in Norwegian, his inner thought was, "I'm asready as he is."