“But it wasn’t a very dreadful sin, was it? Common enough, Christ in his mercy knows. We were happy, and harmed nobody else.” When she saw him begin to stiffen, she said quickly, “Oh, I’ll do what’s right.” She would judge for herself what that was. “May everything be well for you always, Brihtnoth,” she breathed.
After a while in which birdcalls rang and lilted, she asked, “Why did you want to meet me today?”
His shield dropped. “I—to say farewell and, and thanks. Did we really do wrong? At first I believed—but I no longer know what to believe, God help me.” He crossed himself as if unaware that he did. “It feels somehow—that you’ve healed me— But what was the wound?”
She thought she knew. However, to say it would be unwise. She was not quite done with him yet. “Maybe I helped you begin looking forward to the rest of your life on earth. Go, Brihtnoth; go with my blessing. Rise to heights worthy of you, churchly or worldly or both, as you choose. Find a good English girl; wed her; have children; be happy. Let any memory of me only be a small glow in your breast.”
“Oh, my queen—” His voice failed.
“Be sure I’ll never forget you. It will be lonely without you.” She had thought about luring another man. But no, not soon. However careful she and Brihtnoth had been, tongues must be wagging a bit. Best let them fall to rest. She had taken him because she could get more out of him than pleasure, welcome though that was. She could bide her time again.
Cat-deftly, she struck. “If only I had! something to remember you by, something to take out of hiding, hold, look at, yes, and pray over, pray for your well-being.”
“I’ve nothing to give,” he mourned. “Would God I did.”
A breeze wandered by.
“Oh, but you do,” she cried. “See, that ring you wear.”
He stared down at the silver band. “This? But, but Haakon gave me it, these years agone, before he left England—”
She pressed inward. “I know. You’ve told me. I understand how much it means to you, whatever has happened since. But can’t you then understand how much it will mean to me, such a sign of your love?” She caught and held his gaze. Her words went steely. “Also a sign of how you’ve at last put Haakon the apostate behind you.”
He had fared in war; he had naysaid his king; she saw him quail. “No, I, I’ll always pray for him.”
“As a Christian should,” she said; then, once more warm: “But you’re bound afar. The ring will have a home in my heart.”
He fumbled numbly to pull it off. “Be it yours, Gunnhild—my lady—”
She took it from him. “My everlasting thanks, dear one.”
“M-maybe somehow it’ll—will help bring peace between you—and him—”
“Maybe,” she said. “Who knows? I think, though, Brihtnoth, this is a shackle off your soul.”
“I know not,” he said in his bewilderment. “You’re so strange, so wonderful—”
“Enough,” she told him gently. “Look ahead, I say; look ahead to your new life. Now we’d better not linger, nor sit together at eventide.” They had stopped doing it weeks ago. He could never keep his glance from sliding to her. “I’ll see you off in the morning; we’ll steal a last look and smile. Fare you ever well.”
She turned and went back to the hall. Her left hand closed around the ring. She’d slip it to Kisping, with a whisper that he bring it to her tomorrow.
One of the dreams she raised had told her to lay hold of it. She was not sure why, other than that it stood for a small, secret victory over Haakon. But she had a feeling it might be worth more.
XXIV
Although they were Norse who had taken over the Western Islands, ships plied between them and Denmark. Gunnhild need cast no spells to follow what went on in Orkney.
Thus during the summer she learned how Einar Hardmouth led men against Einar Bread-and-Butter, who was sulking at home, and slew him. Thereafter Einar Hardmouth looked to become jarl; but his uncle Ljot had meanwhile called a Thing and gotten himself hailed. It helped that Ljot had somewhat hastily wed Ragnhild Eiriksdottir, which gave him a claim on the holdings and troops of his late brothers, her former husbands. Gunnhild grinned at the news. She could guess who had steered these happenings.
Einar Hardmouth returned to his own island and tried to gather warriors. He said he had been cheated out of the jarlship he earned, and now would take it. However, he could not muster nearly enough. No promise of rewards drew Orkneymen who would rather have a son of Thorfinn Skull-splitter over them. Besides, they thought Ljot was a good leader. It was said that he and Ragnhild got along well, and soon in his eyes she stood far above his other wives, for he found her counsel worth hearing.
That word reached Gunnhild together with the tale of how Ljot Jarl at length got Einar Hardmouth seized and brought before him, and soon afterward ordered Einar beheaded.
Two more Thorfinnssons were left. Skuli, not liking the outcome, crossed over to Scotland. Gunnhild thought of the years-long strife between the sons of Harald Fairhair. Well, Ragnhild must deal with this as best she could. While Gunnhild lived, her sons, Eirik’s, would not fall on each other’s throats.
In the meantime, not very gladly, she had sought out Harald Bluetooth. That was late in the summer, for he had been away making the rounds of his kingdom, Fyn, Sjaelland, and other islands as well as Jutland and Skaaney. This did not take him as far north as Aalborg, those parts being well in hand. It was elsewhere that he needed to meet with high-ranking men, hear them out, give them gifts, and make sure they understood how strong he was.
Back in Jelling, he found much waiting for him to deal with. Yet he could hardly do otherwise than receive Gunnhild and talk with her as she asked.
Only guards and servants were there, and only for the sake of fittingness, when they met in an upper room of the hall. They wore furs, for rain hammered on the roof and air was raw.
“I could well have made use of your wisdom, Queen,” he said. His lip lifted over his bad teeth, an uneasy smirk. “Things were sometimes a little touchy, eh, eh. Above all, with the new-made bishops thereabouts.”
“I can see how, King,” she answered. Here they two could speak more or less forthrightly. “You’ve gotten them named from among Danes rather than being Germans, so they’re not beholden in any way to the Emperor. But that means they’re of the great Danish houses, which remember the days before they came under your father King Gorm.”
The Church was a weapon, she thought, or a tool, for a king to quell an unruly folk; but like the dwarf-forged sword Tyrfing, it could become its owner’s bane. Then the next king would be the underling of the bishops’ rich kindred.
Yet without the Church, she thought bitterly, a king must always fear the ill will of the yeomen.
Harald slapped his knee. “Ho, ho, I was right! You’re as shrewd as they say. I’ll drink to that.”
His try for cheeriness went nowhere. Gunnhild smiled, purred, “My thanks, lord. Maybe my thoughts can help you ever so slightly toward the ends you have in mind,” and pressed in on him about her sons.
After the losses they and the men he sent with them had taken in Norway, he did not want to risk more. “Let’s see, Queen; let’s wait and see.” But Gunnhild gave him no plea he could straightforwardly turn down. She spoke of his honor, of how she could not believe he’d flag merely because one battle had gone wrong. That would hardly make the Danes look on him as almighty, would it? He still had Haakon’s raids on their shores to avenge. Not that she dreamed he would fail to do so, oh, no, never. Nonetheless, the sooner the better, didn’t he agree? His forebears were no coalbiters; all the world knew their blood lived in Harald Gormsson. She dangled before him the scot that Haakon was now taking in, pelts, walrus and narwhal ivory, horn, silver, gold; she told of many doughty warriors to call up for his wars. Maybe foremost, she said, was that Haakon had betrayed the Faith; Norway lay benighted, her folk doomed to Hellfire. Bringing them into the fold meant the salvation of those who did th
e holy work. Mother Church and her bishops must uphold a king who lent his strength to it.
“But—well, what if we fail again, Queen? It could happen. Odin—Christ gives victory as he chooses.”
“Then, of course, my lord, you and the sons of Eirik must withdraw and hold back for a longer span. Yes, it may happen.” Inwardly, grimly, Gunnhild knew how rash they were. “On the other hand, things may go well. And Christ never gives up, does he?”
Thus, bit by bit, day by day, she brought Harald Bluetooth around.
In fall, one by one or two by two, her sons came home from their viking cruises. The winter wore on.
XXV
Late next summer, they sailed from Denmark with crews from earlier farings as well as their troops, and a still greater number of Danes lent by King Harald Bluetooth. The wind fair for Norway, they swiftly crossed to Agdir; thence they went north along the coast, resting neither day nor night. No fires were lighted to warn. For one thing, usage was that this go from east to west, but now the attack had taken a new course. For another, after too many rousings of the whole war-host for naught, folk grumbled aloud and King Haakon had set heavy fines for whoever started the beacons without strong cause. Therefore the ships reached Wolf Sound ahead of the news and lay becalmed for seven days. Men who spied them sped to bring him word. They found him on the island Fraedi off North Moerr, staying at the garth Birchstrand. The only men with him were his guards and such yeomen of the neighborhood as he was guesting.
He brought together those reckoned wisest and asked whether they thought he should hie to battle with the Eirikssons in spite of their badly outnumbering him, or pull back northward to gather more fighters. Thereupon rose an aged yeoman called Egil Woolsark. Aside from the name and the huge body, he was nothing like Egil Skallagrimsson, but had in his youth been a mighty warrior who often bore the banner of Harald Fairhair. His face was furrowed, his hair and beard white. Yet he gave answer: “I was now and then in battle with your father, King Harald, and sometimes he had more, sometimes fewer men than his foe. But he always won, and I never heard as how he asked his friends to tell him to flee. Nor ’ud we like to teach you that trick, King; for it seems to us it’s a bold chieftain we have, and every last one of us will faithfully follow you.”
Deep voices rolled and crashed around Haakon; this was what they all felt. His cheeks flamed. He lifted his golden head on high and said his own wish was to fight with what strength came to hand.
At once he had war-arrows cut and sent widely around. From as far as these were borne, men took their weapons and hastened to his side. Then said Egil Woolsark: “For a while I was afraid this long peace would never end, and I’d die indoors on a straw-bed. Much liefer ’ud I follow my chieftain and fall in fighting. Maybe it’ll happen.”
As soon as the Eirikssons caught the right wind, they set sail and steered on north to Stad. There they learned where King Haakon was, and went to meet him. He had nine ships. With these he lay to in Feeyjar Isle Sound under Fraedarberg. The Eirikssons drew up a little southward with their more than twenty ships. King Haakon sent a messenger to them, bidding them go ashore on the mainland to Rastarkaalf, where he had marked off a battlefield with hazel wands. It was broad and flat, at the foot of a long and rather narrow ridge. The Eirikssons agreed, led their host afoot across the neck of land in Fraedarberg, and took stance on the chosen ground.
Before the fighting began, Egil Woolsark asked King Haakon for ten banners and ten men to bear them. These he got. He took them behind the ridge and waited. Haakon brought his troop out onto Rastarkaalf, raised his own banner, and strode about arraying them. “We’ll make our line long,” said he, “so they can’t outflank us, though they’re more than we are.”
The clash became hard-fought. Though Haakon’s folk stood stoutly, they were being whittled down. Wounded groaned and dead sprawled on earth sodden with blood.
Meanwhile Egil made his ten standard bearers go well apart from each other, up the slope until the banners showed above the ridge.
Suddenly men in the uppermost ranks of the Eirikssons saw those flags flying among the ravens, moving onward against them. Few think coolly in the midst of battle. It seemed this was a company much bigger than theirs, about to fall on their rear and cut them off from their ships. They shouted it forth above the clatter and cries. Fear kindled. It spread like wildfire before the wind. Some turned and fled. At that, all but the guards did. When the young kings saw their host break, they too gave way. King Haakon’s men yelled. He at their head, they pushed briskly after. His sword Quernbiter flashed and reaped.
Once Gamli Eiriksson had gotten higher onto the neck of land, he looked back and saw that those giving chase were no more than he had been fighting. He roared an order to blow the war-horns, and mustered his ranks afresh. Likewise did his brothers and their Norsemen. The Danes kept on fleeing. This was not a war for which they had much heart.
King Haakon and his men reached the Eirikssons. Theirs were now the greater numbers. Again a sharp fight began. It ended with the invaders again taking flight. King Haakon stayed on their heels.
East of the ridge, a flat field ran along the range of hills, bounded on the west by steep heights. Most of Gamli’s men went that way. King Haakon hounded them until the last one lay slain.
Gamli himself led those warriors who kept beside him down south of the ridge. On the flatland he turned and made ready to fight anew. Others rallied. His brothers brought their own guards and vikings to stand with him.
Here Egil Woolsark went in the van of King Haakon’s men, his ax hewing right and left, till at last he came face-to-face against Gamli. They swapped blows. Gamli took deep wounds. Egil fell, and many besides.
Then Haakon arrived from his slaughtering. Strife blazed afresh, Haakon in the forefront. Man after man went down under his sword.
Erelong the Eirikssons knew it was hopeless for them. They withdrew as best they and their beaten followers could, to the sea. But those who had already fled had pushed most of the ships off the strand. The rest were still grounded, with the tide fast ebbing. There was no way to float the hulls before Haakon’s howling troop overran them. The Eirikssons, with what was left of their band, sprang into the water and swam to the ships that were free. No few among them drowned, weighed down by their mail and their weariness. Bleeding, staggering, Gamli could not go even that far. The blunted sword dropped from his hand. He snarled and died in the shallows.
Oars rattled forth. His brothers stood out for Denmark.
A hoarse shout rang from the land. Weapons shook aloft, still dripping red. Otherwise Haakon’s men wanted only to sit down and rest for a while.
Thereafter they went about doing what they could for their badly hurt, killing it such of their foes as stirred, and dragging the grounded ships above high-water mark. They laid their dead in some. Egil Woolsark and those who had been at his side got one to themselves. Watchmen kept birds off during the night. Next day the grave-ships were hauled to the battlefield, to be covered with earth and rocks. High stood the memorial stones raised on Egil Woolsark’s mound.
May he have gone home to his Odin, Haakon thought: then shuddered, for he no longer knew what his own doom would be, nor that of any man.
XXVI
Wind and rain mourned around the house of Gunnhild. Candles and the peat fire barely held darkness at bay. Shadow lay thick in the corner where Kisping squatted. His eyes glistened out of it like bits of ice. He was the only servant there when she greeted Arinbjörn Thorisson; she knew he could hold his tongue.
Woman and warrior sat in facing chairs, he stiffly, feeling awkward, she easeful and watchful as a cat. “I wanted to speak alone with you because you’re the most trustworthy man I know,” she said.
He gripped his ale horn hard. “The queen is too kind,” he muttered.
She raised her brows. “This queen?” After a sip of the wine she held in a cup, she said from low in her throat, “You were at Rastarkaalf. You must have kept your head whi
le well-nigh everybody else lost his. Tell me what happened.”
“About King Gamli I can say very little, Queen,” he rumbled softly. “I was off on the right with King Harald and his other guardsmen. It was all a welter anyway.”
“No,” she said, “Gamli’s death is not what I have in mind,” Gamli, Gamli, so like his father, even unto leaving his bones among strangers, Gamli gone forever. Well, five sons lived, to take revenge and the rights that had been his and Eirik’s. “Tell me about the whole faring, what you saw along the way, what you learned from the battle, what you think about it.”
“King Harald asked me somewhat the same, as he did my fellows. For now he’s the first of the brothers and—” Arinbjörn stopped to pick his words. “—if I may say so, he was always the most thoughtful.”
Gunnhild harked back to the likes of Brihtnoth, Bishop Reginhard, even Vuokko and Aimo long ago in the Finn-hut. “I’d not call any of them a deep thinker,” she said wryly, “though Harald is quick of understanding and can look beyond the end of his nose.”
Arinbjörn spoke with care. “He did say to me, Queen, the two of us aside from the rest—he said you’d been right, we struck too soon, and now we’d better go with your rede for as long as needful.”
“How long will my sons deem that to be?”
“Doesn’t that lie mostly with King Harald Gormsson? I don’t know him myself, but I’d guess it’ll take a while to get his help again.”
“Of course,” Gunnhild snapped. Bluetooth must be wondering whether this whole undertaking was unlucky. She would have to win him over as she did before, in more than one meeting.
She curbed her anger and softened her voice as she leaned forward in the firelight. “Arinbjörn, you gave up much to come back and stand by the sons of him who had your oath. Do you never long homeward?”
He cracked for the span of a flame-flicker. “Oh, my lady—” Draining his horn restored steadiness. “We’ll get there yet.”
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