King Alfred's Viking
A Story of the First English Fleet
by Charles W. Whistler.
Preface.
The general details and course of events given in this story are, so
far as regards the private life and doings of King Alfred, from his
life as written by his chaplain, Asser. One or two further incidents
of the Athelney period are from the later chroniclers--notably the
sign given by St. Cuthberht--as are also the names of the herdsman
and the nobles in hiding in the fen.
That Alfred put his first fleet into the charge of "certain
Vikings" is well known, though the name of their chief is not
given. These Vikings would certainly be Norse, either detached from
the following of Rolf Ganger, who wintered in England in 875 A.D.
the year before his descent on Normandy; or else independent rovers
who, like Rolf, had been driven from Norway by the high-handed
methods of Harald Fairhair. Indeed, the time when a Norse
contingent was not present with the English forces, from this
period till at least that of the battle of Brunanburh in 947 A.D.
would probably be an exception.
There are, therefore, good historic grounds for the position given
to the hero of the story as leader of the newly-formed fleet. The
details of the burning of his supposed father's hall, and of the
Orkney period, are from the Sagas.
Much controversy has raged over the sites of Ethandune and the
landing place of Hubba at Kynwith Castle, owing probably to the
duplication of names in the district where the last campaign took
place. The story, therefore, follows the identifications given by
the late Bishop Clifford in "The Transactions of the Somerset
Archaeological Society" for 1875 and other years, as, both from
topographic and strategic points of view, no other coherent
identification seems possible.
The earthworks of the Danish position still remain on Edington
hill, that looks out from the Polden range over all the country of
Alfred's last refuge, and the bones of Hubba's men lie everywhere
under the turf where they made their last stand under the old walls
and earthworks of Combwich fort; and a lingering tradition yet
records the extermination of a Danish force in the neighbourhood.
Athelney needs but the cessation of today's drainage to revert in a
very few years to what it was in Alfred's time--an island, alder
covered, barely rising from fen and mere, and it needs but little
imagination to reproduce what Alfred saw when, from the same point
where one must needs be standing, he planned the final stroke that
his people believed was inspired directly from above.
It would seem evident from Alfred's method with Guthrum that he
realized that this king was but one among many leaders, and not
directly responsible for the breaking of the solemn peace sworn at
Exeter and Wareham. His position as King of East Anglia has gained
him an ill reputation in the pages of the later chronicles; but
neither Asser nor the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle--our best authorities--
blames him as they, for his contemporaries knew him to be but a
"host king," with no authority over newcomers or those who did not
choose to own allegiance to him.
Save in a few cases, where the original spelling preserves a lost
pronunciation, as in the first syllable of "Eadmund," the modern
and familiar forms of the names have been used in preference to the
constantly-varying forms given by the chroniclers. Bridgwater has
no Saxon equivalent, the town being known only as "The Bridge"
since the time when the Romans first fortified this one crossing
place of the Parret; and the name of the castle before which Hubba
fell varies from Cynuit through Kynwith to Kynwich, whose
equivalent the Combwich of today is. Guthrum's name is given in
many forms, from Gytro to Godramnus. Nor has it been thought worth
while to retain the original spelling AElfred, the ae diphthong
having been appropriated by us to an entirely new sound; while our
own pronunciation of the name slightly broadened as yet in Wessex,
is correct enough.
The exact relationship of St. Neot to Alfred, beyond that he was a
close kinsman, is very doubtful. He has been identified with a
brother, Athelstan of East Anglia, who is known to have retired to
Glastonbury; but there is no more than conjecture, and I have been
content with "cousinship."
C. W. Whistler
Stockland, 1898.
Chapter I. The Seeking of Sword Helmbiter.
Men call me "King Alfred's Viking," and I think that I may be proud
of that name; for surely to be trusted by such a king is honour
enough for any man, whether freeman or thrall, noble or churl.
Maybe I had rather be called by that name than by that which was
mine when I came to England, though it was a good title enough that
men gave me, if it meant less than it seemed. For being the son of
Vemund, king of Southmereland in Norway, I was hailed as king when
first I took command of a ship of my own. Sea king, therefore, was
I, Ranald Vemundsson, but my kingdom was but over ship and men, the
circle of wide sea round me was nought that I could rule over, if I
might seem to conquer the waves by the kingship of good seaman's
craft.
One may ask how I came to lose my father's kingdom, which should
have been mine, and at last to be content with a simple English
earldom; or how it was that a viking could be useful to Alfred, the
wise king. So I will tell the first at once, and the rest may be
learned from what comes after.
If one speaks to me of Norway, straightway into my mind comes the
remembrance of the glare of a burning hall, of the shouts of savage
warriors, and of the cries of the womenfolk, among whom I, a
ten-year-old boy, was when Harald Fairhair sent the great Jarl
Rognvald and his men to make an end of Vemund, my father. For
Harald had sworn a great oath to subdue all the lesser kings in the
land and rule there alone, like Gorm in Denmark and Eirik in
Sweden. So my father's turn came, and as he feasted with his ninety
stout courtmen, the jarl landed under cover of the dark and fell on
him, surrounding the house and firing it. Then was fierce fighting
as my father and his men sallied again and again from the doors and
were driven back, until the high roof fell in and there was a
sudden silence, and an end.
Then in the silence came my mother's voice from where she stood on
the balcony of the living house across the garth {i}. I mind
that she neither wept nor shrieked as did the women round her, and
her voice was clear and strong over the roaring of the flames. I
mind, too, the flash of helms and armour as every man turned to
look on her who spoke.
"Coward and nidring art thou, Rognvald, who dared not meet Vemund,
my husband, in open field, but must slay him thus. Ill may all
things go with thee, till thou knowest what a burning hall is like
for thyself. I rede thee to the open hillside ever, rather than
come beneath a roof; for as thou hast wrought this night, so shall
others do to thee."
Then rose a growl of wrath from Rognvald's men, but the great Jarl
bade them cease, and harm none in all the place. So he went down to
his ships with no more words and men said that he was ill at ease
and little content, for he had lost as many men as he had slain, so
stoutly fought my father and our courtmen, and had earned a curse,
moreover, which would make his nights uneasy for long enough.
Then as he went my mother bade me look well at him, that in days to
come I might know on whom to avenge my father's death. After that
she went to her own lands in the south, for she was a jarl's
daughter, and very rich.
Not long thereafter Harald Fairhair won all the land, and then
began the trouble of ruling it; and men began to leave Norway
because of the new laws, which seemed hard on them, though they
were good enough.
Now two of Jarl Rognvald's sons had been good friends of my father
before these troubles began, and one, Sigurd, had been lord over
the Orkney Islands, and had died there. The other, Jarl Einar, fell
out with Rognvald, his father, and we heard that he would take to
the viking path, and go to the Orkneys, to win back the jarldom
that Sigurd's death had left as a prey to masterless men and
pirates of all sorts. So my mother took me to him, and asked him
for the sake of old friendship to give me a place in his ship; for
I was fourteen now, and well able to handle weapons, being strong
and tall for my age, as were many of the sons of the old kingly
stocks.
So Einar took me, having had no part in his father's doings towards
us, and hating them moreover. He promised to do all that he might
towards making a good warrior and seaman of me; and he was ever
thereafter as a foster father to me, for my own had died in the
hall with Vemund. It was his wish to make amends thus, if he could,
for the loss his folk had caused me.
Of the next five years I need speak little, for in them I learned
the viking's craft well. We won the Orkneys from those who held
them, and my first fight was in Einar's ship, against two of the
viking's vessels. After that we dwelt in Sigurd's great house in
Kirkwall, and made many raids on the Sutherland and Caithness
shores. I saw some hard fighting there, for the Scots are no babes
at weapon play.
Then when I was nineteen, and a good leader, as they said, the
words that my mother spoke to Jarl Rognvald came true, and he died
even as he had slain my father.
For Halfdan and Gudrod, Harald Fairhair's sons, deeming that the
Jarl stood in their way to power in Norway, burned him in his hall
by night, and so my feud was at an end. But the king would in
nowise forgive his sons for the slaying of his friend, and outlawed
them. Whereon Halfdan came and fell on us in the Orkneys; and that
was unlucky for him, for we beat him, and Jarl Einar avenged on him
his father's death.
Now through this it came to pass that I saw Norway for the last
time, for I went thither in Einar's best ship to learn if Harald
meant to make the Orkneys pay for the death of his son--which was
likely, for a son is a son even though he be an outlaw.
So I came to my mother's place first of all, and full of joy and
pleasant thoughts was I as we sailed into the well-remembered fiord
to seek the little town at its head. And when we came there, nought
but bitterest sorrow and wrath was ours; for the town was a black
heap of ruin, and the few men who were left showed me where the
kindly hands of the hill folk had laid my mother, the queen, in a
little mound, after the Danish vikings, who had fallen suddenly on
the place with fire and sword, had gone. They had grown thus bold
because the great jarl was dead, and the king's sons had left the
land without defence.
There I swore vengeance for this on every viking of Danish race
that I might fall in with; for I was wild with grief and rage, as
one might suppose. I set up a stone over the grave of my mother,
graving runes thereon that should tell who she was and also who
raised it; for I was skilled in the runic lore, having learned much
from one of Einar's older men who had known my father.
Thereafter we cruised among the islands northwards until we learned
that Harald was indeed upon us, and then I saw my last of Norway as
we headed south again, and the last hilltop sank beneath the sea's
rim astern of us. I did not know that so it would be at that
time--it is well that one sees not far into things to come--but
even now all my home seemed to be with Einar; and that also was not
to last long, as things went. How that came about I must tell, for
the end was that I came to Alfred the king.
When we came back to Kirkwall, I told the jarl all that I had done
and learned; and grieved for me he was when he heard of my mother's
death. Many things he said to me at that time which made him dearer
to me. Then after a while he spoke of Harald, who, as it seemed,
might come at any time.
"We cannot fight Norway," he said, "so we must even flit hence to
the mainland and wait until Harald is tired of seeking us. It is in
my mind that he seeks not so much for revenge as for payment of
scatt from our islands. Now he has a reason for taking it by force.
He will seek to fine us, and then make plans by which I shall hold
the jarldom from him for yearly dues."
So he straightway called the Thing {ii} of all the Orkney folk,
who loved him well, and put the matter before them; and they set to
work and did his bidding, driving the cattle inland and scattering
them, and making the town look as poor as they might.
Then in three days' time we sailed away laughing; for none but
poor-looking traders were left, and no man would think that never
had the Orkneys been so rich as in Einar's time. And he bade them
make peace with the king when he came, and told them that so all
would be well, for Harald would lay no heavy weregild on so poor a
place for his son's slaying.
Southward we went to Caithness, and so westward along the
Sutherland coast; for we had taken no scatt there for this year,
and Einar would use this cruise to do so, seeing that we must put
to sea. We were not the first who had laid these shores under rule
from the Orkneys, for Jarl Sigurd had conquered them, meeting his
death at last in a Sutherland firth, after victory, in a strange
way.
He fought with a Scottish chief named Melbrigda of the Tusks, and
slew him, and bore back his head to the ships at his saddle bow.
Then the great teeth of the chief swung against the jarl's leg and
wounded it, and of that he died, and so was laid in a great mound
at the head of the firth where his ships lay. After that, the
Orkneys were a nest of evil vikings till we came.
So it had happened that, from the time when it was made over him,
Jarl Sigurd's mound had been untended, for we ourselves had never
been so far south as this firth before. Indeed, it had been so laid
waste by Sigurd's men after his death that there was nought to go
there for. But at this time we had reason for getting into some
quiet, unsought place where we should not be likely to be heard of,
for the king had over-many ships and men for us to meet. So after a
week's cruising we put into that firth, and anchored in the shelter
of its hills.
There is no man of all our following who will forget that day,
because of what happened almost as soon as the anchor held. It was
very hot that morning, and what breeze had been out in the open sea
was kept from us now by the hills, so that for some miles we had
rowed the ships up the winding reaches of the firth; and then, as
we laid in the oars and the anchorage was reached, there crept from
inland a dim haze over the sun, dimming the light, and making all
things look strange among the mountains. Then the sounds of the
ships seemed to echo loudly over the still water and when all the
bustle of anchoring was over, the stillness seemed yet greater, for
the men went to their meals, and for a while spoke little.
Einar and I sat on his after deck under the awning, and spoke in
low voices, as if afraid to raise our tones.
"There is a thunderstorm about," I said.
"Ay--listen," the jarl answered.
Then I heard among the hills, far up the firth beyond us, a strange
sound that seemed to draw nearer, like and yet unlike thunder,
roaring and jarring ever closer to us, till it was all around us
and beneath us everywhere, and our very hearts seemed to stop
beating in wonder.
Then of a sudden the ship was smitten from under the keel with a
heavy, soundless blow, and the waters of the firth ebbed and flowed
fiercely about us; and then the sound passed on and down the firth
swiftly and strangely as it had come, and left us rocking on the
troubled waters that plashed and broke along the rocks of the
shore, while the still, thick air seemed full of the screams of the
terrified eagles and sea birds that had left them.
"Odin defend us!" the jarl said; "what is this?"
I shook my head, looking at him, and wondering if my face was white
and scared as his and that of every man whom I could see.
Now we waited breathless for more to come, but all was quiet again.
The birds went back to their eyries, and the troubled water was
still. Then presently our fears passed enough to let us speak with
one another; and then there were voices enough, for every man
wished to hear his own again, that courage might return.
Then a man from the Orkneys who had been with Jarl Sigurd came aft
to us, and stood at the break of the deck to speak with Einar.
"Jarl," he said, almost under his breath, "it is in my mind that
Sigurd, your brother, is wroth because his mound has been untended
since we made it."
Then Einar said:
"Was it so ill made that it needs tending?"
"It was well made, jarl; but rain and frost and sun on a new-made
mound may have wrought harm to it. Or maybe he thinks that enough
honour has not been paid him. He was a great warrior, jarl, and
perhaps would have more sacrifice, and a remembrance cup drunk by
his own brother at his grave."
Now this man's name was Thord, the same who taught me runes--a good
seaman and leader of men, and one who was held to be wise in more
matters than most folk. So his word was to be listened to.
"You know more of these matters than I, Thord," Einar answered. "Is
it possible that Sigurd could work this?"
"Who knows what a dead chief of might cannot work?" Thord said. "I
think it certain that Sigurd is angry for some reason; and little
luck shall we have if we do not appease his spirit."
Then the jarl looked troubled, as well he might, for to go near the
mound that held an angry ghost was no light matter. It lay far up
the firth, Thord said, and the ships could not go so far. But Einar
was very brave, and when he had thought for a little while he said:
"Well, then, I will take boat and go to Sigurd's mound and see if
he ails aught. Will any man come with me, however?"
I liked not the errand, as may be supposed, but I could not leave
my foster father to go alone.
"I will be with you," I said. "Will not Thord come also?"
"Ay," the grim Orkney man answered.
Now all our crew were listening to us, and I looked down the long
gangways by chance, and when I did so no man would meet my eye.
They feared lest they should be made to go to this haunted place,
as it seemed--all but one man, who sat on the mast step swinging
his feet. This was Kolgrim the Tall, the captain of the fore deck,
a young man and of few words, but a terrible swordsman, and knowing
much of sea craft. And when this man saw that I looked at him, he
nodded a little and smiled, for he had been a friend of mine since
I had first come to Einar.
"Two men to row the boat will be enough, jarl," I said. "Kolgrim
yonder will come with us."
"Well," the jarl answered, "maybe four of us are enough. We shall
not fright Sigurd with more, and maybe would find it hard to get
them to come."
So he called Kolgrim, and he said that he would go with us, and
went to get the boat alongside without more words.
Then the jarl and I and Thord armed ourselves--for a warrior should
be met by warriors. The men were very silent, whispering among
themselves, until the jarl was ready and spoke to them.
"Have no fear for us," he said. "Doubtless my brother needs
somewhat, and calls me. I am going to find out what it is and
return."
So we pushed off, Thord and Kolgrim rowing. It was strange to look
back, as we went, on the ships, for not a soul stirred on board
them, as it seemed, so intently were we watched; and the water was
like a sheet of steel under them, so that they were doubled.
Presently they were hidden as we rounded a turn in the firth, and
we were alone among the hills, and the lonesomeness was very great.
There was no dwelling anywhere along the shores, nor in the deep
glens that came down to them, each with its noisy burn falling
along it. Once I saw deer feeding far up at the head of a valley
that opened out, but they and the eagles were the only living
things we could see beside the loons that swam and dived silently
as we neared them.
The silence and the heat weighed on us, and we went for a mile or
more without a word. Then we turned into the last reach of the
water, and saw Sigurd's mound beside its edge at the very head of
the firth, where the hills came round in a circle that was broken
only by the narrow waters and the valley that went beyond them
among the mountains. It was a fitting resting place for one who
would sleep in loneliness; but I thought that I had rather lie
where I could look out on the sea I loved, and see the long ships
pass and the white waves break beneath me.
Now all seemed very peaceful here in the hot haze that brooded over
the still mountains, and there seemed to be nought to fear. We drew
swiftly up to the mound, with the plash of oars only to break the
silence, and there was nought amiss that we could see. They had
made it on a little flat tongue of land that jutted from the
mountain's foot into the deep water, so that on two sides the mound
was close to its edge. So we pulled on softly round the tongue of
land, being maybe about fifty paces from the mound across the
water. And when we saw the other side of Sigurd's resting place,
the oars stayed suddenly, and the jarl, who held the tiller, swung
the boat away from the shore, and I think I knew then what fear
was.
The mound was open. There was a wide, brown scar, as of
freshly-moved earth, across its base, reaching from the level to
six or eight feet of its height, as though half the grass-grown
side had been shorn away by a sword cut; and in the midst of that
scar was a doorway, open to the grave's heart, low and stone built.
Some of the earth that had fallen lay before it on the water's
edge, but the rest was doubtless in the water, for there was but a
narrow path between bank and mound.
At that sight we stared, thinking we should surely see the grim
form of Sigurd loom gigantic and troll-like {iii} across the
doorway; and the jarl half rose from his seat beside me, and cried
out with a great voice:
"Sigurd--my brother!"
I think he knew not what or why he cried thus, for he sank back
into his place and swayed against me, while his cry rang loud among
the hills, and the eagles answered it.
And I grasped my sword hilt, as one does in some sudden terror,
staring at the open mound; while old Thord muttered spells against
I know not what, and Kolgrim looked at me, pale and motionless.
Then came the sharp, mocking cry of a diver, that rang strangely;
and at once, without order. Thord dug his oar blade into the water
and swung the boat round, and when once Kolgrim's back was towards
that he feared, he held water strongly and then the boat was about,
and we were flying from the place towards the ships, before we knew
what was being done, panic stricken.
But Einar said never a word, and the two rowers slackened their
pace only when the bend of the firth hid the mound from our sight.
Then said I, finding that Einar spoke not:
"What are we flying from? there was nought to harm us."
For I began to be ashamed. Thereat Kolgrim stopped rowing, and
Thord must needs do likewise, though he said:
"It is ill for us to stay here. The dead jarl is very wroth."
"I saw nought to fray us; the cry we heard was but that of a loon."
But Thord shook his head. The silence of the place had made all
things seem strange, with the dull light that was over us, and the
great heat among the towering hills.
"The mound was freshly opened," he said. "I saw earth crumbling
even yet from the broken side. The blow we felt was that which
Sigurd struck when he broke free."
Then at last Einar spoke, and his voice was strange:
"I have left my brother unhonoured, and he is angry. What must be
done?"
Now I cannot tell what hardiness took hold of me, but it seemed
that I must needs go back and see more of this. I was drawn to do
so, as a thing they fear will make some men long to face it and
know its worst, not as if they dared so much as when they must.
"I think we should have waited to ask Sigurd that," I said; and
Einar looked strangely at me.
"Would you have us return?" he asked.
"Why not?" said I. "If the great jarl has called us as it seems,
needs must that we know what he wills."
Then said Thord:
"I helped to lay him in that place, and I mind how he looked at
that time. Somewhat we left undone, doubtless. I dare not go back."
Einar looked at the hills, leaning his chin on his hand, and said
slowly, when Thord had done:
"That is the first time Thord has said 'I dare not.' Now I would
that I had stayed to fight Harald and fall under his sword before.
I too must say the same. I have left my brother unhonoured, and I
dare not go back."
Pale and drawn the jarl's face was, and I knew he meant what he
said. Nevertheless it seemed to me that some one must know what
Sigurd willed.
"Jarl Einar," I said, "this is a strange business, and one cannot
tell what it means. Now Sigurd was my father's close friend, and I
have had nought to do with him. I will go back, therefore, and
learn what I can of him. I think he will not harm me, for he has no
reason to do so. Moreover if he does, none will learn what he
needs."
"I have heard," said Thord, "that a good warrior may ask what he
will of a dead hero, so that he shows no fear and is a friend. If
his courage fails, however, then he will be surely destroyed."
Then I said:
"I have no cause to fear Sigurd, save that he is a ghost. I do not
know if I fear him as such; that is to be seen."
Now Einar laid his hand on mine and spoke gravely:
"I think it is a hero's part to do what you say. If you go back and
return in safety, the scalds will sing of you for many a long day.
Go, therefore, boldly; this is not a matter from which you should
be held back, as it has come into your mind."
Then said Thord:
"It will be well to ask Sigurd for a token whereby we may know that
he sends messages by you."
And Einar said on that:
"In Sigurd's hand is his sword Helmbiter. I think he will give that
to the man who dares speak to him, for he will know that it goes
into brave hands. Ask him for it bravely."
"Put me ashore, therefore, before my courage goes," I said; and
they pulled the boat to the bank where I could step on a rock and
so to shore. And when I was there, Kolgrim rose up and followed me
without a word.
"Bide here for two hours, jarl, and maybe I will return in that
time," I said. "Farewell."
So I turned away as they answered me, thinking that Kolgrim held
the boat's painter. But he came after me, and I spoke to him:
"Why, Kolgrim, will you come also?"
"You shall not go alone, Ranald the king's son; I will come with
you as far as I dare."
"That is well," I answered, and with that wasted no more words, but
climbed the hillside a little, and then went steadily towards where
the mound was, with Kolgrim close at my shoulder, and the jarl and
Thord looking fixedly after us till we were out of sight.