Chapter Thirteen.Shows that Eloquence does not always flow when it is expected, and that Glumm begins a New Course of Action.On examination it was found that Glumm’s hurt was not severe. He had merely been stunned by the force of the blow, and there was a trifling wound in the scalp from which a little blood flowed. While Kettle held a helmet full of water, and Erling bathed the wound, the latter said:“How comes it, Kettle, that ye discovered our straits, and appeared so fortunately?”Kettle laughed and said: “The truth is, that accident brought me here. You know that I had all but wrought out my freedom by this time, but in consideration of my services in the battle at the Springs, Ulf set me free at once, and this morning I left him to seek service with King Harald Haarfager.”“That was thankless of thee,” said Erling.“So said Ulf,” rejoined Kettle; “nevertheless, I came off, and was on my way over the fells to go to the King when I fell in with Hake the berserk—though I knew not that it was he—and joined him.”Erling frowned, and looked enquiringly at Kettle as he said:“But what possessed thee, that thou shouldst quit so good a master for one so bad, and how comes it thou hast so readily turned against the King’s men?”“Little wonder that you are perplexed,” said Kettle, “seeing that ye know not my motive. The truth is, that I had a plan in my head, which was to enter Harald’s service, that I might act the spy on him, and so do my best for one who, all the time I have been in thraldom, has been as kind to me as if he had been my own father.”“Thou meanest Ulf?” said Erling.“I do,” replied Kettle with enthusiasm, “and I’d willingly die for him if need be. As ye know full well, it needs no wizard to tell that such men as Ulf and your father will not easily be made to bend their necks to the King’s yoke; and for this I honour them, because they respect the law of the land more than they respect the King. Happy is the nation where such men abound; and in saying this I do no dishonour to the King, but the reverse.”Erling looked in surprise at Kettle, while he continued to bathe the face of his still unconscious friend, for his language and bearing were much altered from what they had been when he was in thraldom, and there was an air of quiet dignity about him, which seemed to favour the common report that he had been a man of note in his own land.“Well,” continued Kettle, “it is equally certain that Harald is not a man who will tamely submit to be thwarted in his plans, so I had made up my mind to take service with him, in order that I might be able to find out his intentions and observe his temper towards the men of Horlingdal, and thus be in a position to give them timely warning of any danger that threatened. On my way hither I met Hake, as I have said. On hearing that he belonged to King Harald, I told him that I had just got my freedom from Ulf, and wished to join the King. He seemed very glad, and said he thought I would make a good berserk; told me that he was out in search of some of the King’s enemies, and proposed that I should assist him. Of course this suited me well; but it was only when we found you that I became aware who the King’s enemies were, and resolved to act as ye have seen me do. I did not choose to tell Ulf my intention, lest my plan should miscarry; but, now that I find who the King counts his foes, and know how sharply he intends to treat them, it seems to me that I need go no farther.”“Truly thou needst not,” said Erling, “for Harald is in the worst possible humour with us all, and did his best to stop me from going home to tell the fact.”“Then is my mission ended. I will return to Ulfstede,” said Kettle, throwing the water out of his helmet, and replacing it on his head, as he rose and grasped his sword. “Meanwhile, I will cut off Hake’s head, and take it back with me.”“Thou wilt do so at thy peril,” said Erling; “Hake fell to my hand, and I will finish the work which I have begun. Do thou go catch three or four of the horses, for I see that Glumm is recovering.”“I will not interfere with your business,” said Kettle, with a laugh, “only I thought you meant to leave his carcass lying there unheeded, and was unwilling to go off without his head as a trophy.”Kettle went to catch the horses—three of which he tied to trees to be ready for them, while he loaded the fourth with the most valuable of the arms and garments of the slain. Meanwhile Glumm groaned, and, sitting up, rubbed his head ruefully.“I thought someone had sent me to Valhalla,” he said, fetching a deep sigh.“Not yet, friend Glumm, not yet. There is still work for thee to do on earth, and the sooner ye set about doing it the better, for methinks the King will wonder what has become of his berserkers, and will send out men in search of them ere long. Canst mount thy horse?”“Mount him? aye,” said Glumm, leaping up, but staggering when he had gained his legs, so that Erling had to support him for a few minutes. He put his hand to his forehead, and, observing blood on it, asked: “Is the wound deep?”“Only a scratch,” said Erling, “but the blow was heavy. If the sword of Kettle Flatnose had not caught it in time, it would have been thy death.”“Truly it has not been far from that as it is, for my head rings as if the brain were being battered with Thor’s hammer! Come, let us mount.”As he spoke, Kettle brought forward the horses. Glumm mounted with difficulty, and they all rode away. But Erling had observed a slight motion of life in the body of Hake, and after they had gone a few yards he said: “Ride on slowly, Glumm, I will go back to get a ring from the finger of the berserk, which I forgot.”He turned, and rode quickly back to the place where the berserk’s body lay, dismounted, and kneeled beside it. There was a large silver ring on the middle finger of Hake’s right hand, which he took off and put on his own finger, replacing it with a gold one of his own. Then he ran to the spring, and, filling his helmet with water, came back and laved the man’s temples therewith, at the same time pouring a little of it into his mouth. In a few minutes he began to show symptoms of revival, but before he had recovered sufficiently to recognise who his benefactor was, Erling had vaulted into the saddle and galloped away.They arrived at Glummstede that evening about supper-time, but Glumm was eager to hear the discussion that was sure to take place when the news of the fight and of Harald’s state of mind was told, so he rode past his own home, and accompanied his friend to Ulfstede. We cannot say for certain that he was uninfluenced by other motives, for Glumm, as the reader knows, was not a communicative man; he never spoke to anyone on the subject; we incline, however, to the belief that there were mingled ideas in his brain and mixed feelings in his heart as he rode to Ulfstede!Great was the sensation in the hall when Erling, Glumm, and Kettle entered with the marks of the recent fight still visible upon them—especially on Glumm, whose scalp wound, being undressed, permitted a crimson stream to trickle down his face—a stream which, in his own careless way, he wiped off now and then with the sleeve of his coat, thereby making his aspect conspicuously bloody. Tremendous was the flutter in Ada’s heart when she saw him in this plight, for well did she know that deeds of daring had been done before such marks could have been left upon her gruff lover.The hall was crowded with armed men, for many bonders had assembled to await the issue of the decision at the Thing, and much anxiety as well as excitement prevailed. Ulf recognised his late thrall with a look of surprise, but each of them was made to quaff a brimming tankard of ale before being allowed to speak. To say truth, they were very willing to accept the draught, which, after the fatigues they had undergone, tasted like nectar.Erling then stood up, and in the midst of breathless silence began to recount the incidents which had befallen him and his companion while in the execution of their mission.“In the first place,” he said, “it is right to let ye all know that the King’s countenance towards us is as black as a thundercloud, and that we may expect to see the lightning flash out before long. But it is some comfort to add that Glumm and Kettle and I have slain, or rendered unfit to fight, twenty of Harald’s men.”In the midst of the murmur of congratulation with which this announcement was received, Erling observed that Hilda, who had been standing near the door, went out. The result of this was, that the poor youth’s spirit sank, and it was with the utmost difficulty he plucked up heart to relate the incidents of the fight, in which he said so little about himself that one might have imagined he had been a mere spectator. Passing from that subject as quickly as possible, he delivered his opinion as to the hopes and prospects before them, and, cutting his speech short, abruptly quitted the hall.Any little feeling of disappointment that might have been felt at the lame way in which Erling had recounted his exploits was, however, amply compensated by Glumm, who, although usually a man of few words, had no lack of ideas or of power to express them when occasion required, in a terse, stern style of his own, which was very telling. He gave a faithful account of the fight, making mention of many incidents which his friend had omitted to touch on, and dwelling particularly on the deeds of Kettle. As to that flat-nosed individual himself, when called upon to speak, he addressed the assembly with a dignity of manner and a racy utterance of language which amazed those who had only known him as a thrall, and who now for the first time met him as a freed man. He moreover introduced into his speech a few touches of humour which convulsed his audience with laughter, and commented on the condition of affairs in a way that filled them with respect, so that from that hour he became one of the noted men of the dale.Erling meanwhile hurried towards one of the cliffs overlooking the fiord. He was well acquainted with Hilda’s favourite haunts, and soon found her, seated on a bank, with a very disconsolate look, which, however, vanished on his appearing.“Wherefore didst thou hasten away just as I began to speak, Hilda?” he said, somewhat reproachfully, as he sat down beside her.“Because I did not wish to hear details of the bloody work of which thou art so fond. Why wilt thou always be seeking to slay thy fellows?”The girl spoke in tones so sad and desponding, that her lover looked upon her for some time in silent surprise.“Truly, Hilda,” he said, “the fight was none of my seeking.”“Did I not hear thee say,” she replied, “that Kettle and Glumm and thou had slain twenty of the King’s men, and that ye regarded this as a comforting thought?”“Aye, surely; but these twenty men did first attack Glumm and me while alone, and we slew them in self-defence. Never had I returned to tell it, had not stout Kettle Flatnose come to our aid.”“Thank Heaven for that!” said Hilda, with a look of infinite relief. “How did it happen?”“Come. I will tell thee all from first to last. And here is one who shall judge whether Glumm and I are to blame for slaying these men.”As he spoke, the hermit approached. The old man looked somewhat paler than usual, owing to the loss of blood caused by the wound he had received in his recent defence of Ulfstede. Erling rose and saluted him heartily, for, since the memorable prowess in the defence of Ulfstede, Christian had been high in favour among the people of the neighbourhood.“Hilda and I were considering a matter of which we will make thee judge,” said Erling, as they sat down on the bank together.“I will do my best,” said the hermit, with a smile, “if Hilda consents to trust my judgment.”“That she gladly does,” said the maid.“Well, then, I will detail the facts of the case,” said Erling; “but first tell me what strange marks are those on the skin thou holdest in thy hand?”“These are words,” said the hermit, carefully spreading out a roll of parchment, on which a few lines were written.Erling and Hilda regarded the strange characters with much interest. Indeed, the young man’s look almost amounted to one of awe, for he had never seen the scroll before, although Hilda, to whom it had several times been shown and explained, had told him about it.“These marks convey thoughts,” said Christian, laying his forefinger on the characters.“Can they convey intricate thoughts,” asked Erling, “such as are difficult to express?”“Aye; there is no thought which can quit the tongue of one man and enter the understanding of another which may not be expressed by these letters in different combinations.”“Dim ideas of this have been in my mind,” said Erling, “since I went on viking cruise to the south, when first I heard of such a power being known to and used by many, but I believed it not. If this be as thou sayest, and these letters convey thy thoughts, then, though absent, thy thoughts might be known to me—if I did but understand the tracing of them.”“Most true,” returned the hermit; “and more than that, there be some who, though dead, yet speak to their fellows, and will continue to do so as long as the records are preserved and the power to comprehend them be maintained.”“Mysterious power,” said Erling; “I should like much to possess it.”“If thou wilt come to my poor abode on the cliff I will teach it thee. A few months, or less, will suffice. Even Hilda knows the names of the separate signs, and she has applied herself to it for little more than a few days.”Hilda’s face became scarlet when Erling looked at her in surprise, but the unobservant hermit went on to descant upon the immense value of written language, until Hilda reminded him that he had consented to sit in judgment on a knotty point.“True, I had forgotten.—Come now, Erling, let me hear it.”The youth at once began, and in a few minutes had so interested his hearers that they gazed in his face and hung upon his words with rapt attention, while he detailed the incidents of the combats with a degree of fluency and fervour that would have thrown the oratory of Glumm and Kettle quite into the shade had it been told in the hall.While Erling was thus engaged, his friend Glumm, having finished the recital of his adventures for the twentieth time, and at the same time eaten a good supper, was advised by his companions to have the wound in his head looked to.“What! hast thou not had it dressed yet?” asked Ulf; “why, that is very foolish. Knowest thou not that a neglected wound may compass thy death? Come hither, Ada; thy fingers are skilled in such offices. Take Glumm to an inner chamber, and see if thou canst put his head to rights.”“Methinks,” cried Guttorm Stoutheart, with a laugh, “that she is more likely to put his heart wrong than his head right with these wicked black eyes of hers. Have a care, Glumm: they pierce deeper than the sword of the berserk.”Ada pretended not to hear this, but she appeared by no means displeased, as she led Glumm to an inner chamber, whither they were followed by Alric, whose pugnacious soul had been quite fascinated by the story of the recent fight, and who was never tired of putting questions as to minute points.As Glumm sat down on a low stool to enable Ada to get at his head, she said (for she was very proud of her lover’s prowess, and her heart chanced to be in a melting mood that night), “Thou hast done well to-day, it would seem?”“It is well thou thinkest so,” replied Glumm curtly, remembering Erling’s advice.—“No, boy,” he added, in reply to Alric, “I did not kill the one with the black helmet; it was Erling who gave him his deathblow.”“Did Hake the berserk lookdreadfullyfierce?” asked Alric.“He made a few strange faces,” replied Glumm.“The wound is but slight,” observed Ada, in a tone that indicated a little displeasure at the apparent indifference of her lover.“It might have been worse,” replied Glumm.“Do tell me all about it again,” entreated Alric.“Not now,” said Glumm; “I’ll repeat it when Hilda is by; she has not heard it yet—methinks she would like to hear it.”“Hilda like to hear it!” cried the lad, with a shout of laughter; “why, she detests fighting almost as much as the hermit does, though, I must say, for a man who hates it, he can do it wonderfully well himself! But do tell me, Glumm, what was the cut that Erling gave when he brought down that second man, you know—the big one—”“Which? the man whose head he chopped off, with half of the left shoulder?”“No; that was the fourth. I mean the other one, with—”“Oh, the one he split the nose of by accident before battering down with—”“No, no,” cried Alric, “I mean the one with the black beard.”“Ha!” exclaimed Glumm, “that wasn’t the second man; his fall was much further on in the fight, just after Erling had got hold of the battle-axe. He whirled the axe round his head, brought it from over the left down on Blackbeard’s right shoulder, and split him to the waist.”“Now, that is finished,” said Ada sharply, as she put away the things that she had used in the dressing of the wound. “I hope that every foe thou hast to deal with in future may let thee off as well.”“I thank thee, Ada, both for the dressing and the good wish,” said Glumm gravely, as he rose and walked into the hall, followed by his persevering and insatiable little friend.Ada retired hastily to her own chamber, where she stood for a moment motionless, then twice stamped her little foot, after which she sat down on a stool, and, covering her face with both hands, burst into a passionate flood of tears.
On examination it was found that Glumm’s hurt was not severe. He had merely been stunned by the force of the blow, and there was a trifling wound in the scalp from which a little blood flowed. While Kettle held a helmet full of water, and Erling bathed the wound, the latter said:
“How comes it, Kettle, that ye discovered our straits, and appeared so fortunately?”
Kettle laughed and said: “The truth is, that accident brought me here. You know that I had all but wrought out my freedom by this time, but in consideration of my services in the battle at the Springs, Ulf set me free at once, and this morning I left him to seek service with King Harald Haarfager.”
“That was thankless of thee,” said Erling.
“So said Ulf,” rejoined Kettle; “nevertheless, I came off, and was on my way over the fells to go to the King when I fell in with Hake the berserk—though I knew not that it was he—and joined him.”
Erling frowned, and looked enquiringly at Kettle as he said:
“But what possessed thee, that thou shouldst quit so good a master for one so bad, and how comes it thou hast so readily turned against the King’s men?”
“Little wonder that you are perplexed,” said Kettle, “seeing that ye know not my motive. The truth is, that I had a plan in my head, which was to enter Harald’s service, that I might act the spy on him, and so do my best for one who, all the time I have been in thraldom, has been as kind to me as if he had been my own father.”
“Thou meanest Ulf?” said Erling.
“I do,” replied Kettle with enthusiasm, “and I’d willingly die for him if need be. As ye know full well, it needs no wizard to tell that such men as Ulf and your father will not easily be made to bend their necks to the King’s yoke; and for this I honour them, because they respect the law of the land more than they respect the King. Happy is the nation where such men abound; and in saying this I do no dishonour to the King, but the reverse.”
Erling looked in surprise at Kettle, while he continued to bathe the face of his still unconscious friend, for his language and bearing were much altered from what they had been when he was in thraldom, and there was an air of quiet dignity about him, which seemed to favour the common report that he had been a man of note in his own land.
“Well,” continued Kettle, “it is equally certain that Harald is not a man who will tamely submit to be thwarted in his plans, so I had made up my mind to take service with him, in order that I might be able to find out his intentions and observe his temper towards the men of Horlingdal, and thus be in a position to give them timely warning of any danger that threatened. On my way hither I met Hake, as I have said. On hearing that he belonged to King Harald, I told him that I had just got my freedom from Ulf, and wished to join the King. He seemed very glad, and said he thought I would make a good berserk; told me that he was out in search of some of the King’s enemies, and proposed that I should assist him. Of course this suited me well; but it was only when we found you that I became aware who the King’s enemies were, and resolved to act as ye have seen me do. I did not choose to tell Ulf my intention, lest my plan should miscarry; but, now that I find who the King counts his foes, and know how sharply he intends to treat them, it seems to me that I need go no farther.”
“Truly thou needst not,” said Erling, “for Harald is in the worst possible humour with us all, and did his best to stop me from going home to tell the fact.”
“Then is my mission ended. I will return to Ulfstede,” said Kettle, throwing the water out of his helmet, and replacing it on his head, as he rose and grasped his sword. “Meanwhile, I will cut off Hake’s head, and take it back with me.”
“Thou wilt do so at thy peril,” said Erling; “Hake fell to my hand, and I will finish the work which I have begun. Do thou go catch three or four of the horses, for I see that Glumm is recovering.”
“I will not interfere with your business,” said Kettle, with a laugh, “only I thought you meant to leave his carcass lying there unheeded, and was unwilling to go off without his head as a trophy.”
Kettle went to catch the horses—three of which he tied to trees to be ready for them, while he loaded the fourth with the most valuable of the arms and garments of the slain. Meanwhile Glumm groaned, and, sitting up, rubbed his head ruefully.
“I thought someone had sent me to Valhalla,” he said, fetching a deep sigh.
“Not yet, friend Glumm, not yet. There is still work for thee to do on earth, and the sooner ye set about doing it the better, for methinks the King will wonder what has become of his berserkers, and will send out men in search of them ere long. Canst mount thy horse?”
“Mount him? aye,” said Glumm, leaping up, but staggering when he had gained his legs, so that Erling had to support him for a few minutes. He put his hand to his forehead, and, observing blood on it, asked: “Is the wound deep?”
“Only a scratch,” said Erling, “but the blow was heavy. If the sword of Kettle Flatnose had not caught it in time, it would have been thy death.”
“Truly it has not been far from that as it is, for my head rings as if the brain were being battered with Thor’s hammer! Come, let us mount.”
As he spoke, Kettle brought forward the horses. Glumm mounted with difficulty, and they all rode away. But Erling had observed a slight motion of life in the body of Hake, and after they had gone a few yards he said: “Ride on slowly, Glumm, I will go back to get a ring from the finger of the berserk, which I forgot.”
He turned, and rode quickly back to the place where the berserk’s body lay, dismounted, and kneeled beside it. There was a large silver ring on the middle finger of Hake’s right hand, which he took off and put on his own finger, replacing it with a gold one of his own. Then he ran to the spring, and, filling his helmet with water, came back and laved the man’s temples therewith, at the same time pouring a little of it into his mouth. In a few minutes he began to show symptoms of revival, but before he had recovered sufficiently to recognise who his benefactor was, Erling had vaulted into the saddle and galloped away.
They arrived at Glummstede that evening about supper-time, but Glumm was eager to hear the discussion that was sure to take place when the news of the fight and of Harald’s state of mind was told, so he rode past his own home, and accompanied his friend to Ulfstede. We cannot say for certain that he was uninfluenced by other motives, for Glumm, as the reader knows, was not a communicative man; he never spoke to anyone on the subject; we incline, however, to the belief that there were mingled ideas in his brain and mixed feelings in his heart as he rode to Ulfstede!
Great was the sensation in the hall when Erling, Glumm, and Kettle entered with the marks of the recent fight still visible upon them—especially on Glumm, whose scalp wound, being undressed, permitted a crimson stream to trickle down his face—a stream which, in his own careless way, he wiped off now and then with the sleeve of his coat, thereby making his aspect conspicuously bloody. Tremendous was the flutter in Ada’s heart when she saw him in this plight, for well did she know that deeds of daring had been done before such marks could have been left upon her gruff lover.
The hall was crowded with armed men, for many bonders had assembled to await the issue of the decision at the Thing, and much anxiety as well as excitement prevailed. Ulf recognised his late thrall with a look of surprise, but each of them was made to quaff a brimming tankard of ale before being allowed to speak. To say truth, they were very willing to accept the draught, which, after the fatigues they had undergone, tasted like nectar.
Erling then stood up, and in the midst of breathless silence began to recount the incidents which had befallen him and his companion while in the execution of their mission.
“In the first place,” he said, “it is right to let ye all know that the King’s countenance towards us is as black as a thundercloud, and that we may expect to see the lightning flash out before long. But it is some comfort to add that Glumm and Kettle and I have slain, or rendered unfit to fight, twenty of Harald’s men.”
In the midst of the murmur of congratulation with which this announcement was received, Erling observed that Hilda, who had been standing near the door, went out. The result of this was, that the poor youth’s spirit sank, and it was with the utmost difficulty he plucked up heart to relate the incidents of the fight, in which he said so little about himself that one might have imagined he had been a mere spectator. Passing from that subject as quickly as possible, he delivered his opinion as to the hopes and prospects before them, and, cutting his speech short, abruptly quitted the hall.
Any little feeling of disappointment that might have been felt at the lame way in which Erling had recounted his exploits was, however, amply compensated by Glumm, who, although usually a man of few words, had no lack of ideas or of power to express them when occasion required, in a terse, stern style of his own, which was very telling. He gave a faithful account of the fight, making mention of many incidents which his friend had omitted to touch on, and dwelling particularly on the deeds of Kettle. As to that flat-nosed individual himself, when called upon to speak, he addressed the assembly with a dignity of manner and a racy utterance of language which amazed those who had only known him as a thrall, and who now for the first time met him as a freed man. He moreover introduced into his speech a few touches of humour which convulsed his audience with laughter, and commented on the condition of affairs in a way that filled them with respect, so that from that hour he became one of the noted men of the dale.
Erling meanwhile hurried towards one of the cliffs overlooking the fiord. He was well acquainted with Hilda’s favourite haunts, and soon found her, seated on a bank, with a very disconsolate look, which, however, vanished on his appearing.
“Wherefore didst thou hasten away just as I began to speak, Hilda?” he said, somewhat reproachfully, as he sat down beside her.
“Because I did not wish to hear details of the bloody work of which thou art so fond. Why wilt thou always be seeking to slay thy fellows?”
The girl spoke in tones so sad and desponding, that her lover looked upon her for some time in silent surprise.
“Truly, Hilda,” he said, “the fight was none of my seeking.”
“Did I not hear thee say,” she replied, “that Kettle and Glumm and thou had slain twenty of the King’s men, and that ye regarded this as a comforting thought?”
“Aye, surely; but these twenty men did first attack Glumm and me while alone, and we slew them in self-defence. Never had I returned to tell it, had not stout Kettle Flatnose come to our aid.”
“Thank Heaven for that!” said Hilda, with a look of infinite relief. “How did it happen?”
“Come. I will tell thee all from first to last. And here is one who shall judge whether Glumm and I are to blame for slaying these men.”
As he spoke, the hermit approached. The old man looked somewhat paler than usual, owing to the loss of blood caused by the wound he had received in his recent defence of Ulfstede. Erling rose and saluted him heartily, for, since the memorable prowess in the defence of Ulfstede, Christian had been high in favour among the people of the neighbourhood.
“Hilda and I were considering a matter of which we will make thee judge,” said Erling, as they sat down on the bank together.
“I will do my best,” said the hermit, with a smile, “if Hilda consents to trust my judgment.”
“That she gladly does,” said the maid.
“Well, then, I will detail the facts of the case,” said Erling; “but first tell me what strange marks are those on the skin thou holdest in thy hand?”
“These are words,” said the hermit, carefully spreading out a roll of parchment, on which a few lines were written.
Erling and Hilda regarded the strange characters with much interest. Indeed, the young man’s look almost amounted to one of awe, for he had never seen the scroll before, although Hilda, to whom it had several times been shown and explained, had told him about it.
“These marks convey thoughts,” said Christian, laying his forefinger on the characters.
“Can they convey intricate thoughts,” asked Erling, “such as are difficult to express?”
“Aye; there is no thought which can quit the tongue of one man and enter the understanding of another which may not be expressed by these letters in different combinations.”
“Dim ideas of this have been in my mind,” said Erling, “since I went on viking cruise to the south, when first I heard of such a power being known to and used by many, but I believed it not. If this be as thou sayest, and these letters convey thy thoughts, then, though absent, thy thoughts might be known to me—if I did but understand the tracing of them.”
“Most true,” returned the hermit; “and more than that, there be some who, though dead, yet speak to their fellows, and will continue to do so as long as the records are preserved and the power to comprehend them be maintained.”
“Mysterious power,” said Erling; “I should like much to possess it.”
“If thou wilt come to my poor abode on the cliff I will teach it thee. A few months, or less, will suffice. Even Hilda knows the names of the separate signs, and she has applied herself to it for little more than a few days.”
Hilda’s face became scarlet when Erling looked at her in surprise, but the unobservant hermit went on to descant upon the immense value of written language, until Hilda reminded him that he had consented to sit in judgment on a knotty point.
“True, I had forgotten.—Come now, Erling, let me hear it.”
The youth at once began, and in a few minutes had so interested his hearers that they gazed in his face and hung upon his words with rapt attention, while he detailed the incidents of the combats with a degree of fluency and fervour that would have thrown the oratory of Glumm and Kettle quite into the shade had it been told in the hall.
While Erling was thus engaged, his friend Glumm, having finished the recital of his adventures for the twentieth time, and at the same time eaten a good supper, was advised by his companions to have the wound in his head looked to.
“What! hast thou not had it dressed yet?” asked Ulf; “why, that is very foolish. Knowest thou not that a neglected wound may compass thy death? Come hither, Ada; thy fingers are skilled in such offices. Take Glumm to an inner chamber, and see if thou canst put his head to rights.”
“Methinks,” cried Guttorm Stoutheart, with a laugh, “that she is more likely to put his heart wrong than his head right with these wicked black eyes of hers. Have a care, Glumm: they pierce deeper than the sword of the berserk.”
Ada pretended not to hear this, but she appeared by no means displeased, as she led Glumm to an inner chamber, whither they were followed by Alric, whose pugnacious soul had been quite fascinated by the story of the recent fight, and who was never tired of putting questions as to minute points.
As Glumm sat down on a low stool to enable Ada to get at his head, she said (for she was very proud of her lover’s prowess, and her heart chanced to be in a melting mood that night), “Thou hast done well to-day, it would seem?”
“It is well thou thinkest so,” replied Glumm curtly, remembering Erling’s advice.—“No, boy,” he added, in reply to Alric, “I did not kill the one with the black helmet; it was Erling who gave him his deathblow.”
“Did Hake the berserk lookdreadfullyfierce?” asked Alric.
“He made a few strange faces,” replied Glumm.
“The wound is but slight,” observed Ada, in a tone that indicated a little displeasure at the apparent indifference of her lover.
“It might have been worse,” replied Glumm.
“Do tell me all about it again,” entreated Alric.
“Not now,” said Glumm; “I’ll repeat it when Hilda is by; she has not heard it yet—methinks she would like to hear it.”
“Hilda like to hear it!” cried the lad, with a shout of laughter; “why, she detests fighting almost as much as the hermit does, though, I must say, for a man who hates it, he can do it wonderfully well himself! But do tell me, Glumm, what was the cut that Erling gave when he brought down that second man, you know—the big one—”
“Which? the man whose head he chopped off, with half of the left shoulder?”
“No; that was the fourth. I mean the other one, with—”
“Oh, the one he split the nose of by accident before battering down with—”
“No, no,” cried Alric, “I mean the one with the black beard.”
“Ha!” exclaimed Glumm, “that wasn’t the second man; his fall was much further on in the fight, just after Erling had got hold of the battle-axe. He whirled the axe round his head, brought it from over the left down on Blackbeard’s right shoulder, and split him to the waist.”
“Now, that is finished,” said Ada sharply, as she put away the things that she had used in the dressing of the wound. “I hope that every foe thou hast to deal with in future may let thee off as well.”
“I thank thee, Ada, both for the dressing and the good wish,” said Glumm gravely, as he rose and walked into the hall, followed by his persevering and insatiable little friend.
Ada retired hastily to her own chamber, where she stood for a moment motionless, then twice stamped her little foot, after which she sat down on a stool, and, covering her face with both hands, burst into a passionate flood of tears.
Chapter Fourteen.In which Alric boasts a little, discovers Secrets, confesses a little, and distinguishes himself greatly.Next day there was great bustle at Ulfstede, and along the shores of the fiord, for the men of Horlingdal were busy launching their ships and making preparations to go to the Springs to meet and hold council with King Harald Haarfager.It had been finally resolved, without a dissentient voice, that the whole district should go forth to meet him in arms, and thus ensure fair play at the deliberations of the Thing. Even Haldor no longer objected; but, on the contrary, when he heard his son’s account of his meeting with the King, and of the dastardly attempt that had been made to assassinate him and his friend, there shot across his face a gleam of that wild ferocity which had procured him his title. It passed quickly away, however, and gave place to a look of sad resignation, which assured those who knew him that he regarded their chance of opposing the King successfully to be very small indeed.The fleet that left the fiord consisted of the longships of Ulf, Haldor, Erling, Glumm, and Guttorm, besides an innumerable flotilla of smaller crafts and boats. Many of the men were well armed, not only with first-rate weapons, but with complete suits of excellent mail of the kinds peculiar to the period—such as shirts of leather, with steel rings sewed thickly over them, and others covered with steel scales—while of the poorer bonders and the thralls some wore portions of defensive armour, and some trusted to the thick hides of the wolf, which were more serviceable against a sword-cut than many people might suppose. All had shields, however, and carried either swords, bills, spears, javelins, axes, or bows and arrows, so that, numbering as they did, about a thousand men, they composed a formidable host.While these rowed away over the fiord to the Springs to make war or peace—as the case might be—with King Harald, a disappointed spirit was left behind in Horlingdal.“I’m sure I cannot see why I should not be allowed to go too,” said little Alric, on returning to Haldorstede, after seeing the fleet set forth. “Of course I cannot fight so well as Erlingyet, but I can dosomethingin that way; and can even face up to a full-grown man when occasion serves, as that red-haired Dane knows full well, methinks, if he has got any power of feeling in his neck!”This was said to Herfrida, who was in the great hall spreading the board for the midday meal, and surrounded by her maidens, some of whom were engaged in spinning or carding wool, while others wove and sewed, or busied themselves about household matters.“Have patience, my son,” said Herfrida. “Thou art not yet strong enough to go forth to battle. Doubtless, in three or four years—”“Three or four years!” exclaimed Alric, to whom such a space of time appeared an age. “Why, there will be no more fighting left to be done at the end of three or four years. Does not father say that if the King succeeds in his illegal plans all the independence of the small kings will be gone for ever, and—and—of course I am old enough to see that if the small kings are not allowed to do as they please, there will be no more occasion for war—nothing but a dull time of constant peace!”Herfrida laughed lightly, while her warlike son strutted up and down the ancestral hall like a bantam cock, frowning and grunting indignantly, as he brooded over the dark prospects of peace that threatened his native land, and thought of his own incapacity, on account of youth, to make glorious hay while yet the sun of war was shining.“Mother,” he said, stopping suddenly, and crossing his arms, as he stood with his feet planted pretty wide apart, after the fashion of those who desire to be thought very resolute— “mother, I had a dream last night.”“Tell it me, my son,” said Herfrida, sitting down on a low stool beside the lad.Now, it must be known that in those days the Northmen believed in dreams and omens and warnings—indeed, they were altogether a very superstitious people, having perfect faith in giants, good and bad; elves, dark and bright; wraiths, and fetches, and guardian spirits—insomuch that there was scarcely one among the grown-up people who had not seen some of these fabulous creatures, or who had not seen some other people who had either seen them themselves or had seen individuals whosaidthey had seen them! There were also many “clear-sighted” or “fore-sighted” old men and women, who not only saw goblins and supernatural appearances occasionally, and, as it were, accidentally, like ordinary folk, but who also had the gift—so it is said—of seeing such things when they pleased—enjoyed, as it were, an unenviable privilege in that way. It was therefore with unusual interest that Herfrida asked about her son’s dream.“It must have been mara (nightmare), I think,” he said, “for though I never had it before, it seemed to me very like what Guttorm Stoutheart says he always has after eating too hearty a meal.”“Relate it, my son.”“Well, you must know,” said Alric, with much gravity and importance, for he observed that the girls about the room were working softly that they might hear him, “I dreamed that I was out on the fells, and there I met a dreadful wolf, as big as a horse, with two heads and three tails, or three heads and two tails, I mind not which, but it gave me little time to notice it, for, before I was aware, it dashed at me, and I turned to run, but my feet seemed to cleave to the earth, and my legs felt heavy as lead, so that I could scarce drag myself along, yet, strange to say, the wolf did not overtake me, although I heard it coming nearer and nearer every moment, and I tried to shout, but my voice would not come out.”“What hadst thou to supper last night?” asked Herfrida.“Let me think,” replied the boy meditatively; “I had four cuts of salmon, three rolls of bread and butter, half a wild-duck, two small bits of salt-fish, some eggs, a little milk, and a horn of ale.”“It must have been mara,” said she, thoughtfully; “but go on with thy dream.”“Well, just as I came to the brink of the river, I looked back and saw the wolf close at my heels, so I dropped suddenly, and the wolf tumbled right over me into the water, but next moment it came up in the shape of another monster with a fish’s tail, which made straight at me. Then it all at once came into my head that my guardian spirit was behind me, and I turned quickly round but did not see it.”“Art thou quite sure of that, my son?”Herfrida asked this in a tone of great anxiety, for to see one’s own guardian spirit was thought unlucky, and a sign that the person seeing it was “fey”, or death-doomed.“I’m quite sure that I did not,” replied Alric, to the manifest relief of his mother; “but I saw a long pole on the ground, which I seized, and attacked the beast therewith, and a most notable fight we had. I only wish that it had been true, and that thou hadst been there to see it. Mara fled away at once, for I felt no more fear, but laid about me in a way that minded me of Erling. Indeed, I don’t think he could have done it better himself. Oh! how I do wish, sometimes, that my dreams would come true! However, I killed the monster at last, and hurled him into the river, after which I felt tossed about in a strange way, and then my senses left me, and then I awoke.”“What thinkest thou of the dream?” said Herfrida to a wrinkled old crone who sat on a low stool beside the fire.The witch-like old creature roused herself a little and said:“Good luck is in store for the boy.”“Thanks for that, granny,” said Alric; “canst say what sort o’ good luck it is?”“No; my knowledge goes no further. It may be good luck in great things, it may be only in small matters; perhaps soon, perhaps a long time hence: I know not.”Having ventured this very safe and indefinite prophecy, the old woman let her chin drop on her bosom, and recommenced the rocking to and fro which had been interrupted by the question; while Alric laughed, and, taking up a three-pronged spear, said that as he had been disappointed in going to see the fun at the Springs, he would console himself by going and sticking salmon at the foss (waterfall).“Wilt thou not wait for midday meal?” said Herfrida.“No, mother; this roll will suffice till night.”“And then thou wilt come home ravening, and have mara again.”“Be it so. I’d run the risk of that for the sake of the chance of another glorious battle such as I had last night!”Saying this the reckless youth sallied forth with the spear or leister on his shoulder, and took the narrow bridle path leading up the glen.It was one of those calm bright days of early autumn in which menfeelthat they draw in fresh life and vigour at each inhalation. With the fragrant odours that arose from innumerable wild flowers, including that sweetest of plants, the lily of the valley, was mingled the pleasant smell of the pines, which clothed the knolls, or hung here and there like eyebrows on the cliffs. The river was swollen considerably by recent heat, which had caused the great glaciers on the mountain tops to melt more rapidly than usual, and its rushing sound was mingled with the deeper roar of the foss, or waterfall, which leaped over a cliff thirty feet high about two miles up the valley. Hundreds of rills of all sizes fell and zigzagged down the mountains on either side, some of them appearing like threads of silver on the precipices, and all, river and rills, being as cold as the perpetual ice-fields above which gave them birth. Birds twittered in the bushes, adding sweetness to the wild music, and bright greens and purples, lit up by gleams of sunshine, threw a charm of softness over the somewhat rugged scene.The Norse boy’s nature was sensitive, and peculiarly susceptible of outward influences. As he walked briskly along, casting his eager gaze now at the river which foamed below him, and anon at the distant mountain ridges capped with perennial snows, he forgot his late disappointment, or, which is the same thing, drowned it in present enjoyment. Giving vent to his delight, much as boys did a thousand years later, by violent whistling or in uproarious bursts of song, he descended to the river’s edge, with the intention of darting his salmon spear, when his eye caught sight of a woman’s skirt fluttering on one of the cliffs above. He knew that Hilda and Ada had gone up the valley together on a visit to a kinswoman, for Herfrida had spoken of expecting them back to midday meal; guessing, therefore, that it must be them, he drew back out of sight, and clambered hastily up the bank, intending to give them a surprise. He hid himself in the bushes at a jutting point which they had to pass, and from which there was a magnificent view of the valley, the fiord, and the distant sea.He heard the voices of the two girls in animated conversation as they drew near, and distinguished the name of Glumm more than once, but, not being a gossip by nature, he thought nothing of this, and was intent only on pouncing out on them when they should reach a certain stone in the path. Truth constrains us to admit that our young friend, like many young folk of the present day, was a practical joker—yet it must also be said that he was not a very bad one, and, to his honour be it recorded, he never practised jokes on old people!It chanced, however, that the two friends stopped short just before reaching the stone, so that Alric had to exercise patience while the girls contemplated the view—at least while Hilda did so, for on Ada’s face there was a frown, and her eyes were cast on the ground.“How lovely Horlingdal looks on such a day!” observed Hilda.“I have no eyes for beautiful things to-night,” said Ada pettishly; “I cannot get over it—such cool, thankless indifference when I took the trouble to dress his—his—stupid head, and then, not satisfied with telling the whole story over to thee, who cares no more for it than if it were the slaying of half a dozen sheep, he must needs go and pay frequent visits to Ingeborg and to Halgerda of the Foss—and—and— But I know it is all out of spite, and that he does not care a bodkin for either of them, yet I cannot bear it, and Iwon’tbear it, so he had better look to himself. And yet I would not for the best mantle in the dale that he knew I had two thoughts about the matter.”“But why play fast and loose with him?” said Hilda, with a laugh at her companion’s vehemence.“Because I like it and I choose to do so.”“But perchance he does not like it, and does not choose to be treated so.”“I care not for that.”“Truly thy looks and tone belie thee,” said Hilda, smiling. “But in all seriousness, Ada, let me advise thee again to be more considerate with Glumm, for I sometimes think that the men who are most worth having are the most easily turned aside.”“Hast thou found it so with Erling?” demanded Ada half-angrily.Hilda blushed scarlet at this and said:“I never thought of Erling in this light; at least I never—he never—that is—”Fortunately at this point Alric, in his retreat among the bushes, also blushed scarlet, for it only then flashed upon him that he had been acting the mean part of an eavesdropper, and had been listening to converse which he should not have heard. Instead, therefore, of carrying out his original intention, he scrambled into the path with as much noise as possible, and coughed, as he came awkwardly forward.“Why, the wicked boy has been listening,” cried Ada, laying her hand upon the lad’s shoulder, and looking sternly into his face.“I have,” said Alric bluntly.“And art thou not ashamed?”“I am,” he replied, with a degree of candour in his self-condemnation which caused Ada and Hilda to burst into a hearty fit of laughter.“But,” said Ada, becoming grave again, “thou hast heard too much for thy good.”“I know it,” he replied, “and I’m sorry, Ada, but cannot help it now. This will I say, however: I had no wish or intention to hear when I hid myself. My desire was only to startle thee and Hilda, and before I thought what thou wert talking of the thing was out, and now I have got it I cannot unget it.”“True, but thou canst keep it,” said Ada.“I can, and ye may rest assured no word or look of mine shall betray thee. I’ll even try to conceal it from myself, and think it was a dream, unless, indeed, I see a good chance of helping thee in this affair!”Alric laughed as he said this, and the girls joined him, after which they all went on towards Haldorstede together.On reaching the place where Alric had intended to fish, Ada suggested that he should go and try his fortune, so he ran down to the river, and the girls followed him to the bank.The spot selected was a rapid which terminated in a small and comparatively quiet but deep pool. We say comparatively, because in the state of the river at that time even in the quietest places there was considerable commotion. Just below the pool the river opened out into a broad shallow, over which it passed in noisy foam, but with little depth, except in the centre. Below this, again, it narrowed, and formed another deep pool.Alric ran into the water till he was about knee-deep, and then plunged his spear. Nothing resulted from the first plunge, but the effect of the second was more tremendous than had ever before happened to the young sportsman, for the pole of the trident received a twist so violent that it would infallibly have been torn from the boy’s grasp had he not held on with the tenacity of a vice, and allowed himself to be dragged bodily into the pool. As we have said, the pool was deep, but that was nothing to Alric, who could swim like a duck. The Norse maidens who watched him knew this, and although slightly alarmed, felt on the whole more inclined to laugh than to tremble as his head emerged and sank again several times, while the fish which he had struck dragged him about the pool. After a few seconds of violent and wild exertion it rushed down the pool into the rapid, and then it was that the girls perceived that Alric had struck and was clinging to one of the largest-sized salmon that ever appeared in Horlingdal river.Fortunate it was for the boy that the fish took the rapid, for it had almost choked him in the deep pool; but now he scrambled on his feet, and began to do battle gallantly—endeavouring to thrust the fish downwards and pin it to the stones whenever it passed over a shallow part, on which occasions its back and silver sides became visible, and its great tail—wide spreading, like a modern lady’s fan—flashed in the air as it beat the water in terror or fury. Alric’s spirit was ablaze with excitement, for the fish was too strong for him, so that every time it wriggled itself he was made to shake and stagger in a most ridiculously helpless manner, and when it tried to bolt he was pulled flat down on his face and had to follow it—sometimes on his knees, sometimes at full length, for, over and over again, when he was about to rise, or had half-risen, there was another pull, and down he went again, quite flat, while the roaring torrent went right over him.But no limpet ever stuck to rock with greater tenacity than did Alric to the handle of that trident; and it is but just to add, for the information of those who know it not, that the difficulty of retaining one’s foothold on the pebbly bed of a river when knee-deep in a foaming rapid is very great indeed, even when one has nothing more to do than attend to the balancing of one’s own body—much greater, of course, in circumstances such as we describe.At last the salmon made a rush, and was swept over a shallow part of the rapid, close under the bank on which the girls stood. Here Alric succeeded in thrusting it against a large stone. For the first time he managed to stand up erect, and, although holding the fish with all his might, looked up, and breathed, or rather gasped, freely:“Hoch! hah!whata fish! sk–ho!”“Oh, I wish we could help thee!” exclaimed the girls, with flashing eyes and outstretched hands, as if they could hardly restrain themselves from leaping into the water, which was indeed the case!“N–no! ye can’t! ’s not poss’ble—hah! my! oh there ’e goes again—s–t–swash!”Down he went, flat, as he spoke, and water stopped his utterance, while the fish wriggled into the centre of the channel, and carried him into the deep pool below!Here the scene was not quite so exciting, because the battle was not so fierce. The salmon had it all his own way in the deep water, and dragged his attached friend hither and thither as he pleased. On the other hand, Alric ceased to contend, and merely held on with his right hand, while with his left he kept his head above water. The pool circled about in large oily wavelets flecked with foam, so that there was a great contrast in all this to the tremendous turmoil of the raging rapid. But the comparative calm did not last long. The huge fish made a frantic, and apparently a last, effort to get free. It rushed down to the foot of the pool, and passed over the edge into the next rapid.The girls shrieked when they saw this, for, unlike the former, this one was a deep rush of the river, between narrower banks, where its course was obstructed by large rocks. Against these the stream beat furiously. Alric knew the spot well, and was aware of the extreme danger of his position. He therefore made a violent effort to drag the fish towards a point where there was a slight break or eddy among a number of boulders, intending to let him go, if necessary, rather than lose his life. He succeeded, however, in getting upon one of the rocks quite close to the bank, and then endeavoured to lift the fish out of the water. In this also he was successful; made a splendid heave, and flung it with all his force towards the bank, on which it alighted, trident and all, at the feet of Hilda. But in letting go his hold of the handle Alric lost his balance, flung his arms above his head in a vain endeavour to recover himself, and, with a loud shout, fell back into the roaring torrent and was swept away.A few moments sufficed to carry him into the pool below, to the edge of which the girls rushed, and found that he was floating round and round in a state of insensibility, every moment passing near to the vortex of the rapid that flowed out of it. Hilda at once rushed in waist-deep and caught him by the collar. She would have been swept away along with him, but Ada also sprang forward and grasped Hilda by the mantle. She could not, however, drag her back; neither could Hilda in any way help herself. Thus they stood for a few moments swaying to and fro in the current, and, doubtless, one or more of them would have soon been carried down had not efficient aid been at hand.High up on the cliff over the scene where this incident occurred, Christian the hermit was seated on a log before his door. He sat gazing dreamily out upon the landscape when Alric began to fish, but, seeing the danger to which the lad exposed himself, after he had speared the fish, and fearing that there might be need of his aid, he quickly descended to the scene of action. He did not arrive a moment too soon, for the whole event occurred very rapidly. Running to the rescue he caught Ada round the waist with both hands, and drew her gently back; she was soon out of danger, after which there was no great difficulty in dragging the others safely to land.At once the hermit stripped off the boy’s coat, loosened the kerchief that was round his throat, and sought, by every means in his power, to restore him to consciousness. His efforts were successful. The boy soon began to breathe, and in a short time stood up, swaying himself to and fro, and blinking.The first thing he said was:“Where is the salmon?”“The salmon? Oh, I forgot all about it,” said Ada.“Never mind it, dear Alric,” said Hilda.“Never mind it?” he cried, starting into sudden animation; “what! have ye left it behind?”Saying this he burst away from his friends, and ran up the bank of the river until he came to where the fish was lying, still impaled on the barbed prongs of the trident. The run so far restored him that he had sufficient strength to shoulder the fish, although it afterwards turned out to be a salmon of thirty-five pounds weight, and he quickly rejoined his friends, who returned with him to Haldorstede, where, you may be quite sure, he gave a graphic account of the adventure to willing and admiring ears.“So, granny,” he said, at the conclusion of the narrative, to the old crone who was still seated by the fire, “thy prophecy has come true sooner than ye expected, and it has come doubly true, for though the good luck in store for me was a matter of small general importance, no one can deny that it is a great fish!”
Next day there was great bustle at Ulfstede, and along the shores of the fiord, for the men of Horlingdal were busy launching their ships and making preparations to go to the Springs to meet and hold council with King Harald Haarfager.
It had been finally resolved, without a dissentient voice, that the whole district should go forth to meet him in arms, and thus ensure fair play at the deliberations of the Thing. Even Haldor no longer objected; but, on the contrary, when he heard his son’s account of his meeting with the King, and of the dastardly attempt that had been made to assassinate him and his friend, there shot across his face a gleam of that wild ferocity which had procured him his title. It passed quickly away, however, and gave place to a look of sad resignation, which assured those who knew him that he regarded their chance of opposing the King successfully to be very small indeed.
The fleet that left the fiord consisted of the longships of Ulf, Haldor, Erling, Glumm, and Guttorm, besides an innumerable flotilla of smaller crafts and boats. Many of the men were well armed, not only with first-rate weapons, but with complete suits of excellent mail of the kinds peculiar to the period—such as shirts of leather, with steel rings sewed thickly over them, and others covered with steel scales—while of the poorer bonders and the thralls some wore portions of defensive armour, and some trusted to the thick hides of the wolf, which were more serviceable against a sword-cut than many people might suppose. All had shields, however, and carried either swords, bills, spears, javelins, axes, or bows and arrows, so that, numbering as they did, about a thousand men, they composed a formidable host.
While these rowed away over the fiord to the Springs to make war or peace—as the case might be—with King Harald, a disappointed spirit was left behind in Horlingdal.
“I’m sure I cannot see why I should not be allowed to go too,” said little Alric, on returning to Haldorstede, after seeing the fleet set forth. “Of course I cannot fight so well as Erlingyet, but I can dosomethingin that way; and can even face up to a full-grown man when occasion serves, as that red-haired Dane knows full well, methinks, if he has got any power of feeling in his neck!”
This was said to Herfrida, who was in the great hall spreading the board for the midday meal, and surrounded by her maidens, some of whom were engaged in spinning or carding wool, while others wove and sewed, or busied themselves about household matters.
“Have patience, my son,” said Herfrida. “Thou art not yet strong enough to go forth to battle. Doubtless, in three or four years—”
“Three or four years!” exclaimed Alric, to whom such a space of time appeared an age. “Why, there will be no more fighting left to be done at the end of three or four years. Does not father say that if the King succeeds in his illegal plans all the independence of the small kings will be gone for ever, and—and—of course I am old enough to see that if the small kings are not allowed to do as they please, there will be no more occasion for war—nothing but a dull time of constant peace!”
Herfrida laughed lightly, while her warlike son strutted up and down the ancestral hall like a bantam cock, frowning and grunting indignantly, as he brooded over the dark prospects of peace that threatened his native land, and thought of his own incapacity, on account of youth, to make glorious hay while yet the sun of war was shining.
“Mother,” he said, stopping suddenly, and crossing his arms, as he stood with his feet planted pretty wide apart, after the fashion of those who desire to be thought very resolute— “mother, I had a dream last night.”
“Tell it me, my son,” said Herfrida, sitting down on a low stool beside the lad.
Now, it must be known that in those days the Northmen believed in dreams and omens and warnings—indeed, they were altogether a very superstitious people, having perfect faith in giants, good and bad; elves, dark and bright; wraiths, and fetches, and guardian spirits—insomuch that there was scarcely one among the grown-up people who had not seen some of these fabulous creatures, or who had not seen some other people who had either seen them themselves or had seen individuals whosaidthey had seen them! There were also many “clear-sighted” or “fore-sighted” old men and women, who not only saw goblins and supernatural appearances occasionally, and, as it were, accidentally, like ordinary folk, but who also had the gift—so it is said—of seeing such things when they pleased—enjoyed, as it were, an unenviable privilege in that way. It was therefore with unusual interest that Herfrida asked about her son’s dream.
“It must have been mara (nightmare), I think,” he said, “for though I never had it before, it seemed to me very like what Guttorm Stoutheart says he always has after eating too hearty a meal.”
“Relate it, my son.”
“Well, you must know,” said Alric, with much gravity and importance, for he observed that the girls about the room were working softly that they might hear him, “I dreamed that I was out on the fells, and there I met a dreadful wolf, as big as a horse, with two heads and three tails, or three heads and two tails, I mind not which, but it gave me little time to notice it, for, before I was aware, it dashed at me, and I turned to run, but my feet seemed to cleave to the earth, and my legs felt heavy as lead, so that I could scarce drag myself along, yet, strange to say, the wolf did not overtake me, although I heard it coming nearer and nearer every moment, and I tried to shout, but my voice would not come out.”
“What hadst thou to supper last night?” asked Herfrida.
“Let me think,” replied the boy meditatively; “I had four cuts of salmon, three rolls of bread and butter, half a wild-duck, two small bits of salt-fish, some eggs, a little milk, and a horn of ale.”
“It must have been mara,” said she, thoughtfully; “but go on with thy dream.”
“Well, just as I came to the brink of the river, I looked back and saw the wolf close at my heels, so I dropped suddenly, and the wolf tumbled right over me into the water, but next moment it came up in the shape of another monster with a fish’s tail, which made straight at me. Then it all at once came into my head that my guardian spirit was behind me, and I turned quickly round but did not see it.”
“Art thou quite sure of that, my son?”
Herfrida asked this in a tone of great anxiety, for to see one’s own guardian spirit was thought unlucky, and a sign that the person seeing it was “fey”, or death-doomed.
“I’m quite sure that I did not,” replied Alric, to the manifest relief of his mother; “but I saw a long pole on the ground, which I seized, and attacked the beast therewith, and a most notable fight we had. I only wish that it had been true, and that thou hadst been there to see it. Mara fled away at once, for I felt no more fear, but laid about me in a way that minded me of Erling. Indeed, I don’t think he could have done it better himself. Oh! how I do wish, sometimes, that my dreams would come true! However, I killed the monster at last, and hurled him into the river, after which I felt tossed about in a strange way, and then my senses left me, and then I awoke.”
“What thinkest thou of the dream?” said Herfrida to a wrinkled old crone who sat on a low stool beside the fire.
The witch-like old creature roused herself a little and said:
“Good luck is in store for the boy.”
“Thanks for that, granny,” said Alric; “canst say what sort o’ good luck it is?”
“No; my knowledge goes no further. It may be good luck in great things, it may be only in small matters; perhaps soon, perhaps a long time hence: I know not.”
Having ventured this very safe and indefinite prophecy, the old woman let her chin drop on her bosom, and recommenced the rocking to and fro which had been interrupted by the question; while Alric laughed, and, taking up a three-pronged spear, said that as he had been disappointed in going to see the fun at the Springs, he would console himself by going and sticking salmon at the foss (waterfall).
“Wilt thou not wait for midday meal?” said Herfrida.
“No, mother; this roll will suffice till night.”
“And then thou wilt come home ravening, and have mara again.”
“Be it so. I’d run the risk of that for the sake of the chance of another glorious battle such as I had last night!”
Saying this the reckless youth sallied forth with the spear or leister on his shoulder, and took the narrow bridle path leading up the glen.
It was one of those calm bright days of early autumn in which menfeelthat they draw in fresh life and vigour at each inhalation. With the fragrant odours that arose from innumerable wild flowers, including that sweetest of plants, the lily of the valley, was mingled the pleasant smell of the pines, which clothed the knolls, or hung here and there like eyebrows on the cliffs. The river was swollen considerably by recent heat, which had caused the great glaciers on the mountain tops to melt more rapidly than usual, and its rushing sound was mingled with the deeper roar of the foss, or waterfall, which leaped over a cliff thirty feet high about two miles up the valley. Hundreds of rills of all sizes fell and zigzagged down the mountains on either side, some of them appearing like threads of silver on the precipices, and all, river and rills, being as cold as the perpetual ice-fields above which gave them birth. Birds twittered in the bushes, adding sweetness to the wild music, and bright greens and purples, lit up by gleams of sunshine, threw a charm of softness over the somewhat rugged scene.
The Norse boy’s nature was sensitive, and peculiarly susceptible of outward influences. As he walked briskly along, casting his eager gaze now at the river which foamed below him, and anon at the distant mountain ridges capped with perennial snows, he forgot his late disappointment, or, which is the same thing, drowned it in present enjoyment. Giving vent to his delight, much as boys did a thousand years later, by violent whistling or in uproarious bursts of song, he descended to the river’s edge, with the intention of darting his salmon spear, when his eye caught sight of a woman’s skirt fluttering on one of the cliffs above. He knew that Hilda and Ada had gone up the valley together on a visit to a kinswoman, for Herfrida had spoken of expecting them back to midday meal; guessing, therefore, that it must be them, he drew back out of sight, and clambered hastily up the bank, intending to give them a surprise. He hid himself in the bushes at a jutting point which they had to pass, and from which there was a magnificent view of the valley, the fiord, and the distant sea.
He heard the voices of the two girls in animated conversation as they drew near, and distinguished the name of Glumm more than once, but, not being a gossip by nature, he thought nothing of this, and was intent only on pouncing out on them when they should reach a certain stone in the path. Truth constrains us to admit that our young friend, like many young folk of the present day, was a practical joker—yet it must also be said that he was not a very bad one, and, to his honour be it recorded, he never practised jokes on old people!
It chanced, however, that the two friends stopped short just before reaching the stone, so that Alric had to exercise patience while the girls contemplated the view—at least while Hilda did so, for on Ada’s face there was a frown, and her eyes were cast on the ground.
“How lovely Horlingdal looks on such a day!” observed Hilda.
“I have no eyes for beautiful things to-night,” said Ada pettishly; “I cannot get over it—such cool, thankless indifference when I took the trouble to dress his—his—stupid head, and then, not satisfied with telling the whole story over to thee, who cares no more for it than if it were the slaying of half a dozen sheep, he must needs go and pay frequent visits to Ingeborg and to Halgerda of the Foss—and—and— But I know it is all out of spite, and that he does not care a bodkin for either of them, yet I cannot bear it, and Iwon’tbear it, so he had better look to himself. And yet I would not for the best mantle in the dale that he knew I had two thoughts about the matter.”
“But why play fast and loose with him?” said Hilda, with a laugh at her companion’s vehemence.
“Because I like it and I choose to do so.”
“But perchance he does not like it, and does not choose to be treated so.”
“I care not for that.”
“Truly thy looks and tone belie thee,” said Hilda, smiling. “But in all seriousness, Ada, let me advise thee again to be more considerate with Glumm, for I sometimes think that the men who are most worth having are the most easily turned aside.”
“Hast thou found it so with Erling?” demanded Ada half-angrily.
Hilda blushed scarlet at this and said:
“I never thought of Erling in this light; at least I never—he never—that is—”
Fortunately at this point Alric, in his retreat among the bushes, also blushed scarlet, for it only then flashed upon him that he had been acting the mean part of an eavesdropper, and had been listening to converse which he should not have heard. Instead, therefore, of carrying out his original intention, he scrambled into the path with as much noise as possible, and coughed, as he came awkwardly forward.
“Why, the wicked boy has been listening,” cried Ada, laying her hand upon the lad’s shoulder, and looking sternly into his face.
“I have,” said Alric bluntly.
“And art thou not ashamed?”
“I am,” he replied, with a degree of candour in his self-condemnation which caused Ada and Hilda to burst into a hearty fit of laughter.
“But,” said Ada, becoming grave again, “thou hast heard too much for thy good.”
“I know it,” he replied, “and I’m sorry, Ada, but cannot help it now. This will I say, however: I had no wish or intention to hear when I hid myself. My desire was only to startle thee and Hilda, and before I thought what thou wert talking of the thing was out, and now I have got it I cannot unget it.”
“True, but thou canst keep it,” said Ada.
“I can, and ye may rest assured no word or look of mine shall betray thee. I’ll even try to conceal it from myself, and think it was a dream, unless, indeed, I see a good chance of helping thee in this affair!”
Alric laughed as he said this, and the girls joined him, after which they all went on towards Haldorstede together.
On reaching the place where Alric had intended to fish, Ada suggested that he should go and try his fortune, so he ran down to the river, and the girls followed him to the bank.
The spot selected was a rapid which terminated in a small and comparatively quiet but deep pool. We say comparatively, because in the state of the river at that time even in the quietest places there was considerable commotion. Just below the pool the river opened out into a broad shallow, over which it passed in noisy foam, but with little depth, except in the centre. Below this, again, it narrowed, and formed another deep pool.
Alric ran into the water till he was about knee-deep, and then plunged his spear. Nothing resulted from the first plunge, but the effect of the second was more tremendous than had ever before happened to the young sportsman, for the pole of the trident received a twist so violent that it would infallibly have been torn from the boy’s grasp had he not held on with the tenacity of a vice, and allowed himself to be dragged bodily into the pool. As we have said, the pool was deep, but that was nothing to Alric, who could swim like a duck. The Norse maidens who watched him knew this, and although slightly alarmed, felt on the whole more inclined to laugh than to tremble as his head emerged and sank again several times, while the fish which he had struck dragged him about the pool. After a few seconds of violent and wild exertion it rushed down the pool into the rapid, and then it was that the girls perceived that Alric had struck and was clinging to one of the largest-sized salmon that ever appeared in Horlingdal river.
Fortunate it was for the boy that the fish took the rapid, for it had almost choked him in the deep pool; but now he scrambled on his feet, and began to do battle gallantly—endeavouring to thrust the fish downwards and pin it to the stones whenever it passed over a shallow part, on which occasions its back and silver sides became visible, and its great tail—wide spreading, like a modern lady’s fan—flashed in the air as it beat the water in terror or fury. Alric’s spirit was ablaze with excitement, for the fish was too strong for him, so that every time it wriggled itself he was made to shake and stagger in a most ridiculously helpless manner, and when it tried to bolt he was pulled flat down on his face and had to follow it—sometimes on his knees, sometimes at full length, for, over and over again, when he was about to rise, or had half-risen, there was another pull, and down he went again, quite flat, while the roaring torrent went right over him.
But no limpet ever stuck to rock with greater tenacity than did Alric to the handle of that trident; and it is but just to add, for the information of those who know it not, that the difficulty of retaining one’s foothold on the pebbly bed of a river when knee-deep in a foaming rapid is very great indeed, even when one has nothing more to do than attend to the balancing of one’s own body—much greater, of course, in circumstances such as we describe.
At last the salmon made a rush, and was swept over a shallow part of the rapid, close under the bank on which the girls stood. Here Alric succeeded in thrusting it against a large stone. For the first time he managed to stand up erect, and, although holding the fish with all his might, looked up, and breathed, or rather gasped, freely:
“Hoch! hah!whata fish! sk–ho!”
“Oh, I wish we could help thee!” exclaimed the girls, with flashing eyes and outstretched hands, as if they could hardly restrain themselves from leaping into the water, which was indeed the case!
“N–no! ye can’t! ’s not poss’ble—hah! my! oh there ’e goes again—s–t–swash!”
Down he went, flat, as he spoke, and water stopped his utterance, while the fish wriggled into the centre of the channel, and carried him into the deep pool below!
Here the scene was not quite so exciting, because the battle was not so fierce. The salmon had it all his own way in the deep water, and dragged his attached friend hither and thither as he pleased. On the other hand, Alric ceased to contend, and merely held on with his right hand, while with his left he kept his head above water. The pool circled about in large oily wavelets flecked with foam, so that there was a great contrast in all this to the tremendous turmoil of the raging rapid. But the comparative calm did not last long. The huge fish made a frantic, and apparently a last, effort to get free. It rushed down to the foot of the pool, and passed over the edge into the next rapid.
The girls shrieked when they saw this, for, unlike the former, this one was a deep rush of the river, between narrower banks, where its course was obstructed by large rocks. Against these the stream beat furiously. Alric knew the spot well, and was aware of the extreme danger of his position. He therefore made a violent effort to drag the fish towards a point where there was a slight break or eddy among a number of boulders, intending to let him go, if necessary, rather than lose his life. He succeeded, however, in getting upon one of the rocks quite close to the bank, and then endeavoured to lift the fish out of the water. In this also he was successful; made a splendid heave, and flung it with all his force towards the bank, on which it alighted, trident and all, at the feet of Hilda. But in letting go his hold of the handle Alric lost his balance, flung his arms above his head in a vain endeavour to recover himself, and, with a loud shout, fell back into the roaring torrent and was swept away.
A few moments sufficed to carry him into the pool below, to the edge of which the girls rushed, and found that he was floating round and round in a state of insensibility, every moment passing near to the vortex of the rapid that flowed out of it. Hilda at once rushed in waist-deep and caught him by the collar. She would have been swept away along with him, but Ada also sprang forward and grasped Hilda by the mantle. She could not, however, drag her back; neither could Hilda in any way help herself. Thus they stood for a few moments swaying to and fro in the current, and, doubtless, one or more of them would have soon been carried down had not efficient aid been at hand.
High up on the cliff over the scene where this incident occurred, Christian the hermit was seated on a log before his door. He sat gazing dreamily out upon the landscape when Alric began to fish, but, seeing the danger to which the lad exposed himself, after he had speared the fish, and fearing that there might be need of his aid, he quickly descended to the scene of action. He did not arrive a moment too soon, for the whole event occurred very rapidly. Running to the rescue he caught Ada round the waist with both hands, and drew her gently back; she was soon out of danger, after which there was no great difficulty in dragging the others safely to land.
At once the hermit stripped off the boy’s coat, loosened the kerchief that was round his throat, and sought, by every means in his power, to restore him to consciousness. His efforts were successful. The boy soon began to breathe, and in a short time stood up, swaying himself to and fro, and blinking.
The first thing he said was:
“Where is the salmon?”
“The salmon? Oh, I forgot all about it,” said Ada.
“Never mind it, dear Alric,” said Hilda.
“Never mind it?” he cried, starting into sudden animation; “what! have ye left it behind?”
Saying this he burst away from his friends, and ran up the bank of the river until he came to where the fish was lying, still impaled on the barbed prongs of the trident. The run so far restored him that he had sufficient strength to shoulder the fish, although it afterwards turned out to be a salmon of thirty-five pounds weight, and he quickly rejoined his friends, who returned with him to Haldorstede, where, you may be quite sure, he gave a graphic account of the adventure to willing and admiring ears.
“So, granny,” he said, at the conclusion of the narrative, to the old crone who was still seated by the fire, “thy prophecy has come true sooner than ye expected, and it has come doubly true, for though the good luck in store for me was a matter of small general importance, no one can deny that it is a great fish!”
Chapter Fifteen.Treats of Ancient Diplomacy among the Norsemen, and shows how our Hero turns the Tables on a would-be Assassin.When King Harald heard the news of the defeat of Hake and the slaughter of his men by Erling and Glumm, great was his wrath at first, and Jarl Rongvold had much ado to appease him and prevent him from going at once to Horlingdal to ravage it with fire and sword. But when he had cooled a little, and heard the details of the fight from Hake himself, his anger against the young warriors changed into admiration of their dauntless courage.Harald Fairhair was a kingly man in spirit as well as in appearance, and was above encouraging a mean or vengeful mood. He was indeed fierce and violent in his rage, and often did things which, when read of in the calm of a comparatively peaceful time, make one shudder; but it must not be forgotten that the age in which he lived was a cruel and bloody one, and, in Norway, without one touch of the gentle religion of Christ to soften its asperities. He could never have retained his power and rule over the stern warriors of his day had he not possessed much of their own callous indifference to the horrors and cruelties of war.“Thou hadst tougher work than thou countedst on, it would seem,” he said to Hake; then, turning to Jarl Rongvold, with a laugh, “Methinks I would fain have this Erling the Bold and his friend Glumm the Gruff among my men-at-arms.”“I fear, sire, that they will not be easily induced to enter thy service, for they are both Sea-kings, and independent spirits.”“Such men have submitted to us before now,” said the King, with a peculiar glance.“Most true,” returned the jarl, flushing; “but all men have not the same belief in your wisdom.”“That may be, yet methinks I could tame this Sea-king—this Erling. Perchance costly gifts might win him, or it may be that rough blows would suit him better. What thinkest thou, Hake? thou hast had some experience in that way.”“If you mean, sire, that you have a mind to receive rough blows at his hand, I will guarantee him both able and willing to gratify you. I know not the weight of Thor’s hammer, but I am bound to say that it occurred to my mind when Erling’s axe came down on my steel headpiece, and set a host of stars dancing in my brain.”“I believe thee,” said the King, smiling grimly, “and thy visage speaks for itself.”This was indeed the case. The berserk’s countenance was very pale. He still suffered from the crashing blow with which he had been felled, and his heart rankled under his defeat, for he was not aware that the blow, heavy though it was, had been delivered in mercy, or that if his enemy had not turned aside the edge of his axe it would have cleft him to the chin. Perchance, if hehadknown this it would not have improved the state of his feelings; for Hake possessed no nobility of spirit.“It may be,” continued Harald, “that thou shalt have another opportunity of measuring swords with this Sea-king. Meanwhile, Jarl Rongvold, go thou with Rolf, and bring round the Dragon and the other longships to the fiord, for I mistrust the men of this district, and will fare to the Springs by sea.”In accordance with these instructions the jarl brought the King’s fleet round without delay. On the following morning they embarked, and set sail for the appointed place of meeting.Here the fleet under Haldor and Ulf had already cast anchor. The ships lay close to the rocks, near the mouth of the river into which Erling had thrust his cutter just before the battle with the Danes; and a fine sight it was to behold these, with their painted shields and gilded masts and figure-heads, lying in the still water, crowded with armed warriors, while Harald’s longship, the Dragon, and all his other vessels, came by twos and threes into the fiord, the oars tossing foam on the blue waters, and the gaily coloured sails swelling out before a gentle breeze.The King laid his ship alongside of a point of rocks on the south side of the bay. Then, when all the fleet had assembled, both parties landed, and the Thing was summoned by sound of horn. It was held on the level ground where the recent battle had been fought. There were still strewn about many evidences of the ferocity of that fight; and when the King looked upon the host of stout and well-armed men who had assembled, not only from Horlingdal, but from the whole of the surrounding district, he felt that, however much he might wish to force obedience on his subjects, “discretion” was at that time “the better part of valour.”When the Thing was assembled the King stood up to speak, and there was probably not a man upon the ground who did not in his heart acknowledge that the tall, stout warrior, with the thick mass of golden locks, and the large masculine features, was, as far as physique went, a worthy wearer of the crown of Norway. It may be added that physique went a very long way indeed in those days; yet it is due to the Northmen to say that, at the same time, intellect was held in higher repute among them than among any of the feudally governed nations of Europe. One evidence of this was, that at the Things the best speaker, no matter what his rank, had a better chance of swaying the people than the King himself; while, in other countries, might to a large extent was right, and no one dared to open his mouth against him who chanced to be in power.But King Harald Haarfager’s power lay not merely in his personal appearance and indomitable will. He was also a good speaker, and, like all good speakers in a wrong cause, was an able sophist. But he had men to deal with who were accustomed to think and reason closely, as must ever be more or less the case with a self-governed people. There were acute men there, men who had the laws of the land “by heart”, in the most literal sense of those words,—for there were no books to consult and no precedents to cite in those days; and his hearers weighed with jealous care each word he said.The King began by complimenting the men of the district for their spirit, and their resolution to defend the laws of the realm; and he enlarged a little on these laws and on the wisdom of his own father, Halfdan the Black, and the men of his time, who had made and modified many of them. Then he went on to say that with time the circumstances of nations altered, and that, with these alterations, there arose a necessity for the alteration and modification of old laws as well as for the making of new ones. He deprecated the idea that he wished, as had been said of him, to trample the laws under his feet, and rule the country according to his own will and pleasure. Nothing was further from his intention or his desire. His wish was to amend the laws, especially those of them that touched on the relative position of King and people.Up to this point the people heard him with respectful attention, and hundreds of those who were more addicted to fighting than to reasoning, especially among the younger men, began to think that after all, Harald entertained exceedingly just opinions, and appeared to possess a spirit of candour and fair play which did not seem to justify the outcry that had been raised against him. Even these, however, remembered that it was not very long since a small king of one of the northern glens had been summoned by Harold to submit to his views of government, and, on his declining to do so, had been burnt, with all his family and followers, in his own house, contrary to law! They therefore knitted their brows and waited to hear more.The King then began to explain his ideas with regard to the royal authority over the chief men of the districts, some of which are already known to the reader. At this point the assembly listened with deep, earnest attention. Some of the men sat with hands clasped on their knees, and with stern downcast brows. Some gazed up at the clouds with the peculiar expression of men who listen and weigh arguments. Others leaned on their swords or shields, and, with compressed lips and suspicious gaze, looked the King full in the face, while a few regarded him with a sneer; but the expression on the faces of the greater part denoted manliness of feeling and honesty of purpose.After Harald had stated his views, and assured them that his great aim was to consolidate the kingdom and to prevent the evils that flowed from the almost unlimited independence of the petty kings, he asked the assembly to aid him in carrying out his wishes, and to set an example of fidelity and obedience, which would restrain others from showing that unseemly opposition to him which had only resulted in severe and merited punishment.He then sat down amid a murmur of mingled applause and disapprobation.After a few minutes of animated converse among themselves, there arose an old man with a bald head, a flowing beard, and sightless eyes. He was the “lagman” or district judge, and law-expounder of Horlingdal. Deep silence ensued, and he said, in a decided though somewhat tremulous tone—“King Harald, I am a very old man now, and can remember the time when your noble sire, Halfdan the Black, ruled in Norway. I have fought by his side, and lost my eyes in his service—in a fight in which our opponents gave us the tooth-ache. (Norse expression signifying ‘the worst of it.’) I have also heard him speak those words of wisdom to which you have referred, and have seen him bow to the laws which were madenotby himself, but by him in conjunction with the Thing legally assembled for the purpose.”There was a loud murmur of applause at this point.“And now that we have heard the King’s opinions,” continued the old man, turning to the people, “and know that his intentions are good, although the manner in which he has set about carrying them into effect is undoubtedly wrong, my counsel is that we nevertheless submit to him in this matter, for we know that a great number of the small kings have already submitted, and it were better to have a beneficial change—even when not carried out exactly according to law—than to plunge this country into prolonged and useless warfare, in which much blood will assuredly be spilt, and nothing of any value gained.”The lagman sat down, but only a few of those present indicated their approval of his sentiments.Immediately Haldor the Fierce stood up, and men could see that his spirit was stirred within him, for a dark frown lowered on a brow which was at most times fair and unruffled like the summer sky. There was deep silence in the assembly before he began to speak, and the King, despite the suppressed anger which rankled in his breast, could not choose but look upon his commanding figure with respect, also with surprise, for he recognised the strong resemblance between him and Erling, though he knew not their relationship.“I agree not,” said Haldor, “with what has just been said by our respected lagman. A change, even for the better, oughtneverto be accepted if not made according to law, No one can say that any change will certainly be for the better until it is tried; and should this one, perchance, turn out for the worse, then shall we have neither advantage nor law on our side. For my part I had rather see my country plunged into warfare—which no one, unless he is gifted with the foreknowledge of the gods, can say will be either prolonged or useless—than see her laws trampled under foot; for well do I know that, if the King be permitted to make himself an outlaw, blood will be kept boiling perpetually from one end of the land to the other, and it were better, methinks, that that blood should spill than boil. My counsel is, that the King be advised to call a Thing in the regular way, so that the changes he would make shall be fully considered, and either be made law or rejected; for, if he attempts to enforce his plans on us as he has done on other small kings, we will assuredly resist him as long as there is a man left in the district to wield a battle-axe.”There was a great shout and clash of arms when this was said, and the King’s face became crimson with rage, for he saw clearly that the feeling of the majority was against him.At this point Jarl Rongvold stood up and spoke in the bland tones of a man who wishes to throw oil on troubled waters.He said that it was his earnest entreaty to the bonders and house-holding men, both great and small, then and there assembled, that they should calmly consider the proposals of the King, and not allow themselves to be carried away by unsound reasoning, although it might seem very plausible, for he was certain that the King’s desire was the good of the country; and although circumstances had rendered it necessary that some of the rebellious should be punished, no one could say that the King was not willing and ready to do all that he did in a fair, open, and straightforward manner.At this Erling was unable to restrain himself. He sprang up, and, with a passionate flow of words that burst forth like a mountain torrent, exclaimed—“Thinkest thou, Jarl Rongvold, that our brains are so addled that we cannot distinguish between black and white? Is thy memory so short, is thy slavery to the King so complete, that thou must say evil is good and good evil? Hast thou and has the King so soon forgotten that two strangers came to the court with a message from one of the legal assemblies of this land,—that, trusting to the honour of the King, they came without following, and with only such arms as were needful for personal defence,—and that the honour to which they trusted was not proof against the temptation to send a noted berserk and nineteen men to waylay and slay them? Is all this clean gone from your memory, Jarl and King? or is your wit so small that ye should think we will believe in soft words about fair play when such foul deeds are so recent that the graves are yet wet with the blood of those whom Glumm and I were compelled to slay in self-defence?”At this the King started up, and his face became white and red by turns, as he said—“Ye shall, both of you, rue this day, Erling and Glumm!”Erling made no reply, but Glumm started up and was in so great a passion that he could hardly speak; nevertheless he made shift to splutter out—“Threats, King Harald, are like water spilt on a shield which can only rust if left there; I wipe them off and fling them away!”He could add no more, but with a contemptuous motion of the hand he struck his fist violently against his shirt of mail, and the bonders laughed while they applauded him.Then stood up a man in the troop of the Springdal men, who was of great stature and grim countenance, clad in a leather cloak, with an axe on his shoulder and a great steel hat upon his head. He looked sternly, and said—“When rights are not respected then the crows flap their wings and caw, for they know that ere long they shall glut themselves with human blood.”He sat down, and immediately after Ulf of Romsdal stood up. Ulf had fully as much fire as Erling or Glumm, but he possessed greater power of self-restraint, and, as he spoke with deliberation, his words had all the more weight. He said—“King Harald, when in the exercise of our udal rights we bonders elected thee to be our King at the Thing held in Drontheim, we stated and traced thy descent from Odin through the Vingling dynasty, proved thy udal right to the crown, and truly thought that we had placed it on the head of one who would walk in the footsteps of his father, and respect that authority and power in virtue of which he held his own high position. But we now find that thou hast constituted thyself a law higher than the law which made thee what thou art, and thou now wouldst have us, of our own free will, bend our necks so low that thou mayest with the more ease set thy foot on them and keep us down. We have served thee in all good faith up to the present time; we have readily met thy demands for men, ships, arms, and money, by calling together our assemblies and voting these supplies; and now thou wouldst rob us of this our old right, and tax us without our consent, so that thou mayest raise men for thyself, and have it all thine own way. This must not, shall not, be. Even now, we bonders will unanimously hold by the law if it be passed in the proper assembly and receives our yea, and we will follow thee and serve thee as our King as long as there is a living man amongst us. But thou, King, must use moderation towards us, and only require of us such things as it is lawful or possible for us to obey thee in. If, however, thou wilt take up this matter with a high hand, and wilt try thy power and strength against us, we have resolved among ourselves to part with thee, and to take to ourselves some other chief who will respect those laws by which alone society can be held together. Now, King Harald, thou must choose one or other of these conditions before the Thing is ended.”The loud applause which followed this speech showed that the bonders heartily sympathised with it, and indeed several of them rose and said that it expressed their will exactly, and they would stand or fall by what had been spoken.When silence had been restored, Jarl Rongvold, who had whispered in the King’s ear some earnest words, stood forth and said:“It is King Harald’s will to give way to you in this matter for he does not wish to separate himself from your friendship.”This brought the Thing to a close. Thereafter the two parties returned to their ships, intending to feast and pass the night in them.The King was very affable, and invited Haldor and some of the others whose language had been comparatively moderate to feast with him, but they declined the honour, and retired to their own ships.In the evening, while the sounds of revelry were heard everywhere, a boat approached Erling’s ship. It was rowed by a single man, who, when it touched her side, leaped on board and went aft to where Erling was seated with Guttorm Stoutheart.“King Harald would speak with thee,” said the man, who was no other than Hake the berserk.“Methinks his intentions can scarce be friendly,” said Erling, with a grim smile, “when he sends so trusty a messenger.”“It may be so,” replied Hake coolly, “but that is nothing to me. My business is to deliver the message and offer to conduct thee to him.”“And pray, what surety have I that thou wilt not upset me in the fiord?” asked Erling, laughing.“The surety that if I upset thee we shall be on equal terms in the water,” replied Hake gruffly.“Nay, that depends on which of us can swim best,” returned Erling; “and, truly, if thou canst fight as well in the water as on the land, we should have a rare struggle, Hake.”“Am I to say to the King that thou art afraid of him?” asked the berserk, with a look of scorn.“Yea, truly, if it is thy desire to tell him a lie,” retorted Erling. “But get thee into the boat, fellow; I will follow anon.”Hake turned on his heel and returned to the boat, while Erling took Guttorm aside.“Now, art thou fey?” (death-doomed) said Guttorm. “What has made thee so tired of life that thou shouldest put thy neck under his heel thus readily?”“Fear not, my friend,” said Erling; “now that I have seen King Harald a second time, I think him a better man than at first I did. Ambition will no doubt lead him to do many things that are contrary to his nature; but I do not think he will violate the laws of hospitality after what has passed. However, I may be wrong; so I would ask thee, Guttorm, to go aboard of your ship, which lies nearest to that of the King, and, should ye see anything like a struggle, or hear a shout do thou haste to the rescue. I will have my men also in readiness.”While the stout-hearted old Sea-king, in compliance with this request, got into a small boat and rowed to his own vessel, Erling gave particular directions to his chief house-carle to keep a sharp lookout and be ready to act at a moment’s notice. Then he went into Hake’s boat, and was rowed alongside the Dragon, where the King received him with much condescension, and took him aft to the cabin under the high poop. Here he offered him a horn of ale, which, however, Erling declined, and then began to use his utmost powers of persuasion to induce him to enter his service. At first he tried to influence him by flattery, and commended him for his bold and straightforward conduct at the Thing, which, he said, showed to all men that he merited well his distinctive title; but, on finding that our hero was not to be won by flattery, he quickly and adroitly changed his ground, began to talk of the future prospects of Norway, and the necessity for improved legislation. In this he was so successful that he secured the interest, and to some extent the sympathy, of the young warrior, who entered eagerly and somewhat more respectfully into the discussion.“But, sire,” he said, at the close of one of the King’s remarks, “if these are your sentiments, why did you not state them more fully to-day at the Thing, and why should you not even now call a meeting of the Stor Thing, and have the matter properly discussed by all in the land who have a right to speak?”“Hadst thou had any experience of kingcraft, Erling, thou hadst not asked the question. If I were now to do as thou dost suggest, the numerous small kings who have already been put down by force would band against me, and bring such a following of opponents to the Thing that fair discussion would be out of the question.”Erling thought in his own mind, “One false step always necessitates another; you should have called a meeting of the Thing before putting down anyone;” however, he did not give utterance to the thought, but said—“I think you are mistaken, sire; there may be many who, out of revenge, might oppose you, but certain am I that those who would vote for that which is for the wellbeing of the land would form a vast majority. Besides, it is the only course left open to you.”At this the King flushed with a feeling of anger, and, drawing himself up, touched the hilt of his sword without uttering a word.“When I said the only course,” remarked Erling, “I meant the only lawful course. Sorry should I be to see you, King Harald, draw the sword in a bad cause; but if you do, be assured that thousands of good blades will gleam in opposition.”At this the King’s eyes flashed, and, turning suddenly upon Erling, he shook back the masses of his yellow hair with lion-like ferocity, exclaiming—“Dost thou dare to speak thus to me in mine own ship, Erling?”“It is because I am in your ship that I dare. Were I in my own, the laws of hospitality had shut my mouth.”“Knowest thou not,” said the King, waxing still more angry at the rebuke conveyed in this speech, and laying his hand on his sword, “that I have power to shut thy mouth now and for ever?”“It may be so, and it may be not so,” replied Erling, stepping back, and laying his hand on the hilt of his own weapon.At this the King laughed sarcastically. “And if,” said he, “thou hadst the power and skill to overcome my feeble arm, hast thou the folly to think that ye could clear the Dragon of all her men?”Erling replied: “The remembrance, King Harald, of the way in which I treated some of thy men in the woods not long ago, inclines me to believe that I could give them some trouble to slay me, and the thought of that transaction induced me, before I came hither, to make such arrangements that at all events my fall should not go unavenged.”For a moment or two the King’s countenance lowered ferociously on the youth, and he ground his teeth together as if unable to restrain his passion; but suddenly he uttered a short laugh, and said—“Truly thou shouldst have been styled prudent as well as bold. But go, I will take counsel with others, and perhaps thou shalt hear again of this matter.”Our hero retired immediately, but he observed in passing that Hake was summoned to attend the King, and that another man stepped into the boat to row him to his own ship.“Is all well?” growled the rich voice of old Guttorm as he passed the vessel of that worthy.Erling told the rower to stop, and, glancing up, beheld the stern yet good-humoured visage of his bluff friend looking over the rows of bright shields that hung on the bulwarks.“All is well,” replied Erling.“It is well for the King that it is so,” rejoined Guttorm, “for my hand was itching to give him a taste of our northern metal. Assuredly, if a mouse had but squeaked on board the Dragon, I had deemed it sufficient ground on which to have founded an immediate onslaught. But get thee to bed, Erling, and let me advise thee to sleep with thy windward eye open.”“Trust me,” said Erling, with a laugh, as he pushed off; “I will not sleep with both eyes shut to-night!”Getting on board his own ship, Erling said to his foot-boy—“I will not sleep in my bed to-night, for I suspect there may be treachery abroad. Thou shalt keep watch, therefore, in case anything may happen in the night; and if thou shalt see me strive with anyone, do not alarm the men. Meanwhile go thou and fetch me a billet of wood, and let it be a large one.”The boy quickly brought from the hold one of the largest billets of wood he could find, and gave it to his master, who laid it in his own bed, which was under a small tent spread over the aft part of the vessel, close to the poop. Having covered it up carefully, he sent the boy forward, and went himself to lie down elsewhere.At midnight a boat was rowed stealthily alongside. It was guided by one man, and moved so silently that the lightest sleeper on board could not have been awakened by it. The man stepped on board; lifted up the cloth of the tent over the bulwarks; looked cautiously all round him, and then went up and struck in Erling’s bed with a great axe, so that it stuck fast in the billet of wood. Next instant the man felt his neck in a grip like that of an iron vice, and his face was thrust upon the ground and held there, while a heavy knee pressed into the small of his back, so that he was utterly unable to rise.Erling’s foot-boy saw the whole of this, and heard what followed, for the curtain of the tent was raised; but he moved neither hand nor foot, though he held a spear ready for instant action if required.“It ill becomes thee, Hake,” said Erling, “to seek my life a second time, after making such poor work of it the first. What! wilt thou not lie quiet?”While he was speaking the berserk struggled with the fury of a madman to free himself, but Erling’s grip (perhaps his own wisdom also!) prevented him from shouting, and Erling’s knee prevented the struggles from making much noise. Finding, however, that he would not be quiet, our hero tightened the pressure of his left hand until the tongue and eyes of the berserk began to protrude, and his face to get black, while with his right hand he drew his knife, and ran the point of it about a quarter of an inch into the fleshy part of Hake’s back. The effect was instantaneous! Hake could face danger and death bravely, and could hurl defiance at his foe with the best, when on his legs; but when he felt the point of the cold steel, and knew that the smallest impulse would cause it to find a warm bed in his heart, his fury vanished. Brave and bold though he was, and a berserk to boot, he sank quietly down, and lay perfectly still!Erling at once relaxed the pressure of his fingers, and allowed Hake to breathe, but he let the point of the knife remain, that it might refresh his memory, while he read him a lesson:—“Now, Hake, let me tell thee that thou richly deservest to lose thy life, for twice hast thou sought to take mine in an unfair way, and once have I spared thine. However, thou art but a tool after all, so I will spare it again—and I do it the more readily that I wish thee to convey a message to thy master, King Harald, who, I doubt not, has sent thee on this foul errand.”Erling here signalled to his foot-boy, whom he directed to bind Hake’s arms securely behind his back. This having been done, Erling suffered him to rise and stand before him.“See now,” he said, taking a silver ring from his finger, “knowest thou this ring, Hake? Ah, I see by thy look that thou dost. Well, I will return it to thee and claim mine own.”He turned the berserk round, took off the gold ring which he had placed on his finger on the day of the fight and put the silver one in its place.“By these tokens,” said he, “thou mayest know who it was that cared for thee in the wood after the fight, and restored thy consciousness, instead of cutting off thy head, as he might easily have done. I know not why I did it, Hake, save that the fancy seized me, for thou art an undeserving dog. But now we will take thee back to thy master, and as our message can be conveyed without the use of speech, we will bind up thy mouth.”So saying, Erling gagged the berserk (who looked dreadfully sulky) with a strip of sailcloth. Then he made him sit down, and tied his legs together with a piece of rope, after which he lifted him in his arms to the side of the ship and laid him down.“Go fetch me a stout carle,” he said to the foot-boy, who went forward and immediately returned with a strapping man-at-arms.The man looked surprised, but asked no questions, as Erling directed him in a low tone to assist in lifting the prisoner into the boat as quietly as possible. Then they placed the lump of wood with the axe sticking in it beside him. This accomplished, they rowed silently to the side of the Dragon, where a sentinel demanded what they wanted.“We bring a prisoner to King Harald,” answered Erling. “We have him here tied hand and foot.”“Who is he?” asked the sentinel; for there was not so much light as is usual at midnight of that time of the year, owing to a mist on the sea.“Thou shalt see when he is aboard.”“Hoist him up, then,” said the man, Erling and his carle raised Hake over the bulwarks, and let him drop heavily on the deck. Then Erling seized the lump of wood and hurled it on board with considerable force, so that, hitting the sentinel on the head, it bounded onwards to the after part of the ship, and struck against the tent under which Harald lay. The King sprang out, sword in hand, but Erling had pushed off, and was already enveloped in the mist. As they rowed away they heard a great clamour on board the Dragon, but it was quickly hushed by a stern voice, which Erling knew to be that of the King.No pursuit was attempted. Erling got back to his own ship, and, setting a watch, lay down to rest.In the morning no notice was taken of what had occurred during the night. The King evidently pretended that he knew nothing about the matter. He again met with the chief men of the district, and made them many promises and many complimentary speeches, but in his heart he resolved that the day should come when every one of them should either bow before his will or lose his life. The bonders, on the other hand, listened with due respect to all the King said, but it need scarcely be added that their lips did not express all their thoughts; for while the sanguine and more trustful among them felt some degree of hope and confidence, there were others who could not think of the future except with the most gloomy forebodings.In this mood the two parties separated. The King sailed with his warships out among the skerries, intending to proceed north to Drontheim, while Haldor the Fierce, with his friends and men, went back to Horlingdal.
When King Harald heard the news of the defeat of Hake and the slaughter of his men by Erling and Glumm, great was his wrath at first, and Jarl Rongvold had much ado to appease him and prevent him from going at once to Horlingdal to ravage it with fire and sword. But when he had cooled a little, and heard the details of the fight from Hake himself, his anger against the young warriors changed into admiration of their dauntless courage.
Harald Fairhair was a kingly man in spirit as well as in appearance, and was above encouraging a mean or vengeful mood. He was indeed fierce and violent in his rage, and often did things which, when read of in the calm of a comparatively peaceful time, make one shudder; but it must not be forgotten that the age in which he lived was a cruel and bloody one, and, in Norway, without one touch of the gentle religion of Christ to soften its asperities. He could never have retained his power and rule over the stern warriors of his day had he not possessed much of their own callous indifference to the horrors and cruelties of war.
“Thou hadst tougher work than thou countedst on, it would seem,” he said to Hake; then, turning to Jarl Rongvold, with a laugh, “Methinks I would fain have this Erling the Bold and his friend Glumm the Gruff among my men-at-arms.”
“I fear, sire, that they will not be easily induced to enter thy service, for they are both Sea-kings, and independent spirits.”
“Such men have submitted to us before now,” said the King, with a peculiar glance.
“Most true,” returned the jarl, flushing; “but all men have not the same belief in your wisdom.”
“That may be, yet methinks I could tame this Sea-king—this Erling. Perchance costly gifts might win him, or it may be that rough blows would suit him better. What thinkest thou, Hake? thou hast had some experience in that way.”
“If you mean, sire, that you have a mind to receive rough blows at his hand, I will guarantee him both able and willing to gratify you. I know not the weight of Thor’s hammer, but I am bound to say that it occurred to my mind when Erling’s axe came down on my steel headpiece, and set a host of stars dancing in my brain.”
“I believe thee,” said the King, smiling grimly, “and thy visage speaks for itself.”
This was indeed the case. The berserk’s countenance was very pale. He still suffered from the crashing blow with which he had been felled, and his heart rankled under his defeat, for he was not aware that the blow, heavy though it was, had been delivered in mercy, or that if his enemy had not turned aside the edge of his axe it would have cleft him to the chin. Perchance, if hehadknown this it would not have improved the state of his feelings; for Hake possessed no nobility of spirit.
“It may be,” continued Harald, “that thou shalt have another opportunity of measuring swords with this Sea-king. Meanwhile, Jarl Rongvold, go thou with Rolf, and bring round the Dragon and the other longships to the fiord, for I mistrust the men of this district, and will fare to the Springs by sea.”
In accordance with these instructions the jarl brought the King’s fleet round without delay. On the following morning they embarked, and set sail for the appointed place of meeting.
Here the fleet under Haldor and Ulf had already cast anchor. The ships lay close to the rocks, near the mouth of the river into which Erling had thrust his cutter just before the battle with the Danes; and a fine sight it was to behold these, with their painted shields and gilded masts and figure-heads, lying in the still water, crowded with armed warriors, while Harald’s longship, the Dragon, and all his other vessels, came by twos and threes into the fiord, the oars tossing foam on the blue waters, and the gaily coloured sails swelling out before a gentle breeze.
The King laid his ship alongside of a point of rocks on the south side of the bay. Then, when all the fleet had assembled, both parties landed, and the Thing was summoned by sound of horn. It was held on the level ground where the recent battle had been fought. There were still strewn about many evidences of the ferocity of that fight; and when the King looked upon the host of stout and well-armed men who had assembled, not only from Horlingdal, but from the whole of the surrounding district, he felt that, however much he might wish to force obedience on his subjects, “discretion” was at that time “the better part of valour.”
When the Thing was assembled the King stood up to speak, and there was probably not a man upon the ground who did not in his heart acknowledge that the tall, stout warrior, with the thick mass of golden locks, and the large masculine features, was, as far as physique went, a worthy wearer of the crown of Norway. It may be added that physique went a very long way indeed in those days; yet it is due to the Northmen to say that, at the same time, intellect was held in higher repute among them than among any of the feudally governed nations of Europe. One evidence of this was, that at the Things the best speaker, no matter what his rank, had a better chance of swaying the people than the King himself; while, in other countries, might to a large extent was right, and no one dared to open his mouth against him who chanced to be in power.
But King Harald Haarfager’s power lay not merely in his personal appearance and indomitable will. He was also a good speaker, and, like all good speakers in a wrong cause, was an able sophist. But he had men to deal with who were accustomed to think and reason closely, as must ever be more or less the case with a self-governed people. There were acute men there, men who had the laws of the land “by heart”, in the most literal sense of those words,—for there were no books to consult and no precedents to cite in those days; and his hearers weighed with jealous care each word he said.
The King began by complimenting the men of the district for their spirit, and their resolution to defend the laws of the realm; and he enlarged a little on these laws and on the wisdom of his own father, Halfdan the Black, and the men of his time, who had made and modified many of them. Then he went on to say that with time the circumstances of nations altered, and that, with these alterations, there arose a necessity for the alteration and modification of old laws as well as for the making of new ones. He deprecated the idea that he wished, as had been said of him, to trample the laws under his feet, and rule the country according to his own will and pleasure. Nothing was further from his intention or his desire. His wish was to amend the laws, especially those of them that touched on the relative position of King and people.
Up to this point the people heard him with respectful attention, and hundreds of those who were more addicted to fighting than to reasoning, especially among the younger men, began to think that after all, Harald entertained exceedingly just opinions, and appeared to possess a spirit of candour and fair play which did not seem to justify the outcry that had been raised against him. Even these, however, remembered that it was not very long since a small king of one of the northern glens had been summoned by Harold to submit to his views of government, and, on his declining to do so, had been burnt, with all his family and followers, in his own house, contrary to law! They therefore knitted their brows and waited to hear more.
The King then began to explain his ideas with regard to the royal authority over the chief men of the districts, some of which are already known to the reader. At this point the assembly listened with deep, earnest attention. Some of the men sat with hands clasped on their knees, and with stern downcast brows. Some gazed up at the clouds with the peculiar expression of men who listen and weigh arguments. Others leaned on their swords or shields, and, with compressed lips and suspicious gaze, looked the King full in the face, while a few regarded him with a sneer; but the expression on the faces of the greater part denoted manliness of feeling and honesty of purpose.
After Harald had stated his views, and assured them that his great aim was to consolidate the kingdom and to prevent the evils that flowed from the almost unlimited independence of the petty kings, he asked the assembly to aid him in carrying out his wishes, and to set an example of fidelity and obedience, which would restrain others from showing that unseemly opposition to him which had only resulted in severe and merited punishment.
He then sat down amid a murmur of mingled applause and disapprobation.
After a few minutes of animated converse among themselves, there arose an old man with a bald head, a flowing beard, and sightless eyes. He was the “lagman” or district judge, and law-expounder of Horlingdal. Deep silence ensued, and he said, in a decided though somewhat tremulous tone—
“King Harald, I am a very old man now, and can remember the time when your noble sire, Halfdan the Black, ruled in Norway. I have fought by his side, and lost my eyes in his service—in a fight in which our opponents gave us the tooth-ache. (Norse expression signifying ‘the worst of it.’) I have also heard him speak those words of wisdom to which you have referred, and have seen him bow to the laws which were madenotby himself, but by him in conjunction with the Thing legally assembled for the purpose.”
There was a loud murmur of applause at this point.
“And now that we have heard the King’s opinions,” continued the old man, turning to the people, “and know that his intentions are good, although the manner in which he has set about carrying them into effect is undoubtedly wrong, my counsel is that we nevertheless submit to him in this matter, for we know that a great number of the small kings have already submitted, and it were better to have a beneficial change—even when not carried out exactly according to law—than to plunge this country into prolonged and useless warfare, in which much blood will assuredly be spilt, and nothing of any value gained.”
The lagman sat down, but only a few of those present indicated their approval of his sentiments.
Immediately Haldor the Fierce stood up, and men could see that his spirit was stirred within him, for a dark frown lowered on a brow which was at most times fair and unruffled like the summer sky. There was deep silence in the assembly before he began to speak, and the King, despite the suppressed anger which rankled in his breast, could not choose but look upon his commanding figure with respect, also with surprise, for he recognised the strong resemblance between him and Erling, though he knew not their relationship.
“I agree not,” said Haldor, “with what has just been said by our respected lagman. A change, even for the better, oughtneverto be accepted if not made according to law, No one can say that any change will certainly be for the better until it is tried; and should this one, perchance, turn out for the worse, then shall we have neither advantage nor law on our side. For my part I had rather see my country plunged into warfare—which no one, unless he is gifted with the foreknowledge of the gods, can say will be either prolonged or useless—than see her laws trampled under foot; for well do I know that, if the King be permitted to make himself an outlaw, blood will be kept boiling perpetually from one end of the land to the other, and it were better, methinks, that that blood should spill than boil. My counsel is, that the King be advised to call a Thing in the regular way, so that the changes he would make shall be fully considered, and either be made law or rejected; for, if he attempts to enforce his plans on us as he has done on other small kings, we will assuredly resist him as long as there is a man left in the district to wield a battle-axe.”
There was a great shout and clash of arms when this was said, and the King’s face became crimson with rage, for he saw clearly that the feeling of the majority was against him.
At this point Jarl Rongvold stood up and spoke in the bland tones of a man who wishes to throw oil on troubled waters.
He said that it was his earnest entreaty to the bonders and house-holding men, both great and small, then and there assembled, that they should calmly consider the proposals of the King, and not allow themselves to be carried away by unsound reasoning, although it might seem very plausible, for he was certain that the King’s desire was the good of the country; and although circumstances had rendered it necessary that some of the rebellious should be punished, no one could say that the King was not willing and ready to do all that he did in a fair, open, and straightforward manner.
At this Erling was unable to restrain himself. He sprang up, and, with a passionate flow of words that burst forth like a mountain torrent, exclaimed—
“Thinkest thou, Jarl Rongvold, that our brains are so addled that we cannot distinguish between black and white? Is thy memory so short, is thy slavery to the King so complete, that thou must say evil is good and good evil? Hast thou and has the King so soon forgotten that two strangers came to the court with a message from one of the legal assemblies of this land,—that, trusting to the honour of the King, they came without following, and with only such arms as were needful for personal defence,—and that the honour to which they trusted was not proof against the temptation to send a noted berserk and nineteen men to waylay and slay them? Is all this clean gone from your memory, Jarl and King? or is your wit so small that ye should think we will believe in soft words about fair play when such foul deeds are so recent that the graves are yet wet with the blood of those whom Glumm and I were compelled to slay in self-defence?”
At this the King started up, and his face became white and red by turns, as he said—
“Ye shall, both of you, rue this day, Erling and Glumm!”
Erling made no reply, but Glumm started up and was in so great a passion that he could hardly speak; nevertheless he made shift to splutter out—
“Threats, King Harald, are like water spilt on a shield which can only rust if left there; I wipe them off and fling them away!”
He could add no more, but with a contemptuous motion of the hand he struck his fist violently against his shirt of mail, and the bonders laughed while they applauded him.
Then stood up a man in the troop of the Springdal men, who was of great stature and grim countenance, clad in a leather cloak, with an axe on his shoulder and a great steel hat upon his head. He looked sternly, and said—
“When rights are not respected then the crows flap their wings and caw, for they know that ere long they shall glut themselves with human blood.”
He sat down, and immediately after Ulf of Romsdal stood up. Ulf had fully as much fire as Erling or Glumm, but he possessed greater power of self-restraint, and, as he spoke with deliberation, his words had all the more weight. He said—
“King Harald, when in the exercise of our udal rights we bonders elected thee to be our King at the Thing held in Drontheim, we stated and traced thy descent from Odin through the Vingling dynasty, proved thy udal right to the crown, and truly thought that we had placed it on the head of one who would walk in the footsteps of his father, and respect that authority and power in virtue of which he held his own high position. But we now find that thou hast constituted thyself a law higher than the law which made thee what thou art, and thou now wouldst have us, of our own free will, bend our necks so low that thou mayest with the more ease set thy foot on them and keep us down. We have served thee in all good faith up to the present time; we have readily met thy demands for men, ships, arms, and money, by calling together our assemblies and voting these supplies; and now thou wouldst rob us of this our old right, and tax us without our consent, so that thou mayest raise men for thyself, and have it all thine own way. This must not, shall not, be. Even now, we bonders will unanimously hold by the law if it be passed in the proper assembly and receives our yea, and we will follow thee and serve thee as our King as long as there is a living man amongst us. But thou, King, must use moderation towards us, and only require of us such things as it is lawful or possible for us to obey thee in. If, however, thou wilt take up this matter with a high hand, and wilt try thy power and strength against us, we have resolved among ourselves to part with thee, and to take to ourselves some other chief who will respect those laws by which alone society can be held together. Now, King Harald, thou must choose one or other of these conditions before the Thing is ended.”
The loud applause which followed this speech showed that the bonders heartily sympathised with it, and indeed several of them rose and said that it expressed their will exactly, and they would stand or fall by what had been spoken.
When silence had been restored, Jarl Rongvold, who had whispered in the King’s ear some earnest words, stood forth and said:
“It is King Harald’s will to give way to you in this matter for he does not wish to separate himself from your friendship.”
This brought the Thing to a close. Thereafter the two parties returned to their ships, intending to feast and pass the night in them.
The King was very affable, and invited Haldor and some of the others whose language had been comparatively moderate to feast with him, but they declined the honour, and retired to their own ships.
In the evening, while the sounds of revelry were heard everywhere, a boat approached Erling’s ship. It was rowed by a single man, who, when it touched her side, leaped on board and went aft to where Erling was seated with Guttorm Stoutheart.
“King Harald would speak with thee,” said the man, who was no other than Hake the berserk.
“Methinks his intentions can scarce be friendly,” said Erling, with a grim smile, “when he sends so trusty a messenger.”
“It may be so,” replied Hake coolly, “but that is nothing to me. My business is to deliver the message and offer to conduct thee to him.”
“And pray, what surety have I that thou wilt not upset me in the fiord?” asked Erling, laughing.
“The surety that if I upset thee we shall be on equal terms in the water,” replied Hake gruffly.
“Nay, that depends on which of us can swim best,” returned Erling; “and, truly, if thou canst fight as well in the water as on the land, we should have a rare struggle, Hake.”
“Am I to say to the King that thou art afraid of him?” asked the berserk, with a look of scorn.
“Yea, truly, if it is thy desire to tell him a lie,” retorted Erling. “But get thee into the boat, fellow; I will follow anon.”
Hake turned on his heel and returned to the boat, while Erling took Guttorm aside.
“Now, art thou fey?” (death-doomed) said Guttorm. “What has made thee so tired of life that thou shouldest put thy neck under his heel thus readily?”
“Fear not, my friend,” said Erling; “now that I have seen King Harald a second time, I think him a better man than at first I did. Ambition will no doubt lead him to do many things that are contrary to his nature; but I do not think he will violate the laws of hospitality after what has passed. However, I may be wrong; so I would ask thee, Guttorm, to go aboard of your ship, which lies nearest to that of the King, and, should ye see anything like a struggle, or hear a shout do thou haste to the rescue. I will have my men also in readiness.”
While the stout-hearted old Sea-king, in compliance with this request, got into a small boat and rowed to his own vessel, Erling gave particular directions to his chief house-carle to keep a sharp lookout and be ready to act at a moment’s notice. Then he went into Hake’s boat, and was rowed alongside the Dragon, where the King received him with much condescension, and took him aft to the cabin under the high poop. Here he offered him a horn of ale, which, however, Erling declined, and then began to use his utmost powers of persuasion to induce him to enter his service. At first he tried to influence him by flattery, and commended him for his bold and straightforward conduct at the Thing, which, he said, showed to all men that he merited well his distinctive title; but, on finding that our hero was not to be won by flattery, he quickly and adroitly changed his ground, began to talk of the future prospects of Norway, and the necessity for improved legislation. In this he was so successful that he secured the interest, and to some extent the sympathy, of the young warrior, who entered eagerly and somewhat more respectfully into the discussion.
“But, sire,” he said, at the close of one of the King’s remarks, “if these are your sentiments, why did you not state them more fully to-day at the Thing, and why should you not even now call a meeting of the Stor Thing, and have the matter properly discussed by all in the land who have a right to speak?”
“Hadst thou had any experience of kingcraft, Erling, thou hadst not asked the question. If I were now to do as thou dost suggest, the numerous small kings who have already been put down by force would band against me, and bring such a following of opponents to the Thing that fair discussion would be out of the question.”
Erling thought in his own mind, “One false step always necessitates another; you should have called a meeting of the Thing before putting down anyone;” however, he did not give utterance to the thought, but said—
“I think you are mistaken, sire; there may be many who, out of revenge, might oppose you, but certain am I that those who would vote for that which is for the wellbeing of the land would form a vast majority. Besides, it is the only course left open to you.”
At this the King flushed with a feeling of anger, and, drawing himself up, touched the hilt of his sword without uttering a word.
“When I said the only course,” remarked Erling, “I meant the only lawful course. Sorry should I be to see you, King Harald, draw the sword in a bad cause; but if you do, be assured that thousands of good blades will gleam in opposition.”
At this the King’s eyes flashed, and, turning suddenly upon Erling, he shook back the masses of his yellow hair with lion-like ferocity, exclaiming—
“Dost thou dare to speak thus to me in mine own ship, Erling?”
“It is because I am in your ship that I dare. Were I in my own, the laws of hospitality had shut my mouth.”
“Knowest thou not,” said the King, waxing still more angry at the rebuke conveyed in this speech, and laying his hand on his sword, “that I have power to shut thy mouth now and for ever?”
“It may be so, and it may be not so,” replied Erling, stepping back, and laying his hand on the hilt of his own weapon.
At this the King laughed sarcastically. “And if,” said he, “thou hadst the power and skill to overcome my feeble arm, hast thou the folly to think that ye could clear the Dragon of all her men?”
Erling replied: “The remembrance, King Harald, of the way in which I treated some of thy men in the woods not long ago, inclines me to believe that I could give them some trouble to slay me, and the thought of that transaction induced me, before I came hither, to make such arrangements that at all events my fall should not go unavenged.”
For a moment or two the King’s countenance lowered ferociously on the youth, and he ground his teeth together as if unable to restrain his passion; but suddenly he uttered a short laugh, and said—
“Truly thou shouldst have been styled prudent as well as bold. But go, I will take counsel with others, and perhaps thou shalt hear again of this matter.”
Our hero retired immediately, but he observed in passing that Hake was summoned to attend the King, and that another man stepped into the boat to row him to his own ship.
“Is all well?” growled the rich voice of old Guttorm as he passed the vessel of that worthy.
Erling told the rower to stop, and, glancing up, beheld the stern yet good-humoured visage of his bluff friend looking over the rows of bright shields that hung on the bulwarks.
“All is well,” replied Erling.
“It is well for the King that it is so,” rejoined Guttorm, “for my hand was itching to give him a taste of our northern metal. Assuredly, if a mouse had but squeaked on board the Dragon, I had deemed it sufficient ground on which to have founded an immediate onslaught. But get thee to bed, Erling, and let me advise thee to sleep with thy windward eye open.”
“Trust me,” said Erling, with a laugh, as he pushed off; “I will not sleep with both eyes shut to-night!”
Getting on board his own ship, Erling said to his foot-boy—
“I will not sleep in my bed to-night, for I suspect there may be treachery abroad. Thou shalt keep watch, therefore, in case anything may happen in the night; and if thou shalt see me strive with anyone, do not alarm the men. Meanwhile go thou and fetch me a billet of wood, and let it be a large one.”
The boy quickly brought from the hold one of the largest billets of wood he could find, and gave it to his master, who laid it in his own bed, which was under a small tent spread over the aft part of the vessel, close to the poop. Having covered it up carefully, he sent the boy forward, and went himself to lie down elsewhere.
At midnight a boat was rowed stealthily alongside. It was guided by one man, and moved so silently that the lightest sleeper on board could not have been awakened by it. The man stepped on board; lifted up the cloth of the tent over the bulwarks; looked cautiously all round him, and then went up and struck in Erling’s bed with a great axe, so that it stuck fast in the billet of wood. Next instant the man felt his neck in a grip like that of an iron vice, and his face was thrust upon the ground and held there, while a heavy knee pressed into the small of his back, so that he was utterly unable to rise.
Erling’s foot-boy saw the whole of this, and heard what followed, for the curtain of the tent was raised; but he moved neither hand nor foot, though he held a spear ready for instant action if required.
“It ill becomes thee, Hake,” said Erling, “to seek my life a second time, after making such poor work of it the first. What! wilt thou not lie quiet?”
While he was speaking the berserk struggled with the fury of a madman to free himself, but Erling’s grip (perhaps his own wisdom also!) prevented him from shouting, and Erling’s knee prevented the struggles from making much noise. Finding, however, that he would not be quiet, our hero tightened the pressure of his left hand until the tongue and eyes of the berserk began to protrude, and his face to get black, while with his right hand he drew his knife, and ran the point of it about a quarter of an inch into the fleshy part of Hake’s back. The effect was instantaneous! Hake could face danger and death bravely, and could hurl defiance at his foe with the best, when on his legs; but when he felt the point of the cold steel, and knew that the smallest impulse would cause it to find a warm bed in his heart, his fury vanished. Brave and bold though he was, and a berserk to boot, he sank quietly down, and lay perfectly still!
Erling at once relaxed the pressure of his fingers, and allowed Hake to breathe, but he let the point of the knife remain, that it might refresh his memory, while he read him a lesson:—
“Now, Hake, let me tell thee that thou richly deservest to lose thy life, for twice hast thou sought to take mine in an unfair way, and once have I spared thine. However, thou art but a tool after all, so I will spare it again—and I do it the more readily that I wish thee to convey a message to thy master, King Harald, who, I doubt not, has sent thee on this foul errand.”
Erling here signalled to his foot-boy, whom he directed to bind Hake’s arms securely behind his back. This having been done, Erling suffered him to rise and stand before him.
“See now,” he said, taking a silver ring from his finger, “knowest thou this ring, Hake? Ah, I see by thy look that thou dost. Well, I will return it to thee and claim mine own.”
He turned the berserk round, took off the gold ring which he had placed on his finger on the day of the fight and put the silver one in its place.
“By these tokens,” said he, “thou mayest know who it was that cared for thee in the wood after the fight, and restored thy consciousness, instead of cutting off thy head, as he might easily have done. I know not why I did it, Hake, save that the fancy seized me, for thou art an undeserving dog. But now we will take thee back to thy master, and as our message can be conveyed without the use of speech, we will bind up thy mouth.”
So saying, Erling gagged the berserk (who looked dreadfully sulky) with a strip of sailcloth. Then he made him sit down, and tied his legs together with a piece of rope, after which he lifted him in his arms to the side of the ship and laid him down.
“Go fetch me a stout carle,” he said to the foot-boy, who went forward and immediately returned with a strapping man-at-arms.
The man looked surprised, but asked no questions, as Erling directed him in a low tone to assist in lifting the prisoner into the boat as quietly as possible. Then they placed the lump of wood with the axe sticking in it beside him. This accomplished, they rowed silently to the side of the Dragon, where a sentinel demanded what they wanted.
“We bring a prisoner to King Harald,” answered Erling. “We have him here tied hand and foot.”
“Who is he?” asked the sentinel; for there was not so much light as is usual at midnight of that time of the year, owing to a mist on the sea.
“Thou shalt see when he is aboard.”
“Hoist him up, then,” said the man, Erling and his carle raised Hake over the bulwarks, and let him drop heavily on the deck. Then Erling seized the lump of wood and hurled it on board with considerable force, so that, hitting the sentinel on the head, it bounded onwards to the after part of the ship, and struck against the tent under which Harald lay. The King sprang out, sword in hand, but Erling had pushed off, and was already enveloped in the mist. As they rowed away they heard a great clamour on board the Dragon, but it was quickly hushed by a stern voice, which Erling knew to be that of the King.
No pursuit was attempted. Erling got back to his own ship, and, setting a watch, lay down to rest.
In the morning no notice was taken of what had occurred during the night. The King evidently pretended that he knew nothing about the matter. He again met with the chief men of the district, and made them many promises and many complimentary speeches, but in his heart he resolved that the day should come when every one of them should either bow before his will or lose his life. The bonders, on the other hand, listened with due respect to all the King said, but it need scarcely be added that their lips did not express all their thoughts; for while the sanguine and more trustful among them felt some degree of hope and confidence, there were others who could not think of the future except with the most gloomy forebodings.
In this mood the two parties separated. The King sailed with his warships out among the skerries, intending to proceed north to Drontheim, while Haldor the Fierce, with his friends and men, went back to Horlingdal.