Chapter III. Odda, the Ealdorman of Devon.

Now I steered eastward from Sutherland, and sailed down the east

coasts of Scotland and England; and there is nothing to say about

such a cruise, that had nought more wonderful in it than the

scaring of the folk when we put in for food. I had made up my mind

to go to Ireland for the winter, where, as every Northman knew,

there were kingdoms to be won--having no wish to be Rolf's

follower, seeing he was but a jarl's son; and finding that England

had no overlord, seeing that even now Alfred of Wessex and Guthrum

of East Anglia were fighting for mastery, so that the whole land

was racked and torn with strife.

Maybe I thought too much of myself at that time, but I was in no

haste to do aught but cruise about and find where I might best make

a name. I had but my one ship and crew, and I would not throw them

away on some useless business for want of care in choosing.

Now, when we came into the English Channel, a gale began to blow up

from the southwest; and we held over to the French shore, and there

put into a haven that was sheltered enough. The gale strengthened,

and lasted three days; but the people were kindly enough, being of

Saxon kin, who had settled there under the headland they call

Greynose, since Hengist's times of the winning of England across

the water. And when the gale was over, we waited for the sea to go

down, and then came a fair wind from the eastward, as we expected.

So we got provisions on board, and sailed westward again, taking a

long slant over to the English coast, until we sighted the great

rock of Portland; and then the wind came off the land, and in the

early morning veered to the northwest.

The tide was still with us as the light strengthened; then as the

day broke, with the haze of late summer over the land, we found

that we were right in the track of a strange fleet that was coming

up fast from the westward--great ships and small, in a strange

medley and in no sort of order, so that we wondered what they would

be.

"Here comes Rolf Ganger back from Valland," said Kolgrim. "He has

gathered any vessels he could get together, and is going to land in

England."

"We will even head out to sea from across their course," I said.

"Maybe they are Danes from Exeter, flying from the Saxons."

So we headed away for the open channel until at least we knew more.

The fleet drew up steadily, bringing the tide with them; and

presently we fell to wondering at the gathering. For there were

some half-dozen ships that were plainly Norse like ourselves, maybe

twenty Danish-built longships, and about the same number of heavy

trading vessels. There were a few large fishing boats also; but

leading the crowd were five great vessels the like of which none of

us had ever seen or heard of before. And even as we spoke of them,

two of these shook out reefs in their sails, and drew away from the

rest across channel, as if to cut us off.

"Ho, men," I said, when I saw that, "get to arms; for here they

come to speak with us. Maybe we shall have to fight--and these are

no easy nuts to crack!"

Whereat the men laughed; and straightway there was the pleasant

hustle and talk of those who donned mail shirt and helm and set the

throwing weapons to hand with all good will.

"Let us keep on our course," I said to Kolgrim. "We will see if we

cannot weather on these ships, and anyway shall fight them better

apart from the rest. It is a fine breeze for a sailing match."

So we held on; and the two great ships to windward of us began to

gain on us slowly, which was a thing that had never been done by

any ship before. I do not know that even Harald Fairhair had any

swifter ship than this that Halfdan had taken in his flight from

home. Kolgrim waxed very wroth when it became plain that these

could outsail us.

"There is witchcraft about those great hulks," he growled. "They

are neither Norse, nor Frisian, nor Danish, but better than all

three put together."

"I have sailed in ships, and talked of ships, and dreamed of them

moreover, since I could stand alone," said Thord, "but I never so

much as thought of the like of these. If they belong to some new

kind of viking, there are hard times in store for some of us."

"Faith," said I, "I believe they have swept up and made prizes of

all that medley astern of them."

So we held on for half an hour, and all that time they gained

steadily on us; and we neared them quickly at last, for we tried to

hold across their bows and weather on them. That was no good, for

they were as weatherly as we.

Now we could see that their decks were covered with armed men, and

it seemed certain that they meant to make prize of us. The leading

ship was maybe half a mile ahead of the other, and that a mile from

us--all three close-hauled as we strove to gain a weather berth.

Then the leading ship put her helm up and stood across our course,

and the second followed her.

"We must out oars now if we are to weather on them," said Kolgrim

at last.

Then the men shouted; and I looked at the second ship, to which

they were pointing. Her great sail was overboard, for the halliards

had gone--chafed through maybe, or snapped with the strain as she

paid off quickly. Then a new hope came to me.

"Men," I said, "let us take the other vessel, and then come back on

this; they are worth winning."

They cheered. And now the fight seemed to be even--ship to ship at

least, if our foe was larger and higher and swifter than ours; for

I thought that he would hardly have a crew like mine.

We up helm and stood away on the new course the foe had taken,

leaving the crippled ship astern very fast. And now we began to

edge up towards the other vessel, meaning to go about under her

stern, and so shoot to windward of her on the other tack. But then

I thought of a plan which might help us in the fighting. There had

seemed little order and much shouting on board the ship we had left

when her sail fell, and maybe there was the same want of discipline

here.

"Out oars, men! Keep them swinging, but put no weight on them. Let

them pull after us and tire themselves. I have a mind to see how

our dragon looks on yonder high stem head."

The men laughed grimly, and the oars were run out. One called to

me:

"Maybe they beat us in sailing, king; we can teach them somewhat in

weapon play."

"See how they get their oars out," said Kolgrim, with a sour grin;

"a set of lubbers they are."

One by one, and in no order, the long oars were being got to work.

The great ship was half as long again as ours, pulling twenty-eight

oars a side to our twenty. But while ours rose and fell as if

worked by one man, theirs were pulled anyhow, as one might say.

"Better are they at sailing than rowing," said Thord.

Nevertheless they flew down on us, and that because we only made a

show of rowing.

Then we laid on the oars, and came head to wind. The sail rattled

down, and was stowed on deck; and silently we waited, arrows on

string, for the fight that was now close at hand.

Then the great ship hove up, head to wind, right ahead of us, and a

loud hail came from her.

"Who knows what tongue he talks?" I said. "I cannot make him out

rightly."

"'Tis West Saxon," said an old warrior from the waist. "He asks who

we are and what is our business."

"Tell him therefore, if you can speak in his way," I answered; "and

ask the same of him."

So a hail or two went backwards and forwards, and then:

"Says he is Odda, jarl or somewhat of Devon in Wessex, and bids us

yield to Alfred the king."

"In truth," said I, "if he had not spoken of yielding, I had had

more to say to a king who can build ships like these. Now we will

speak with him on his own deck. Tell him he will have to fight us

first."

The old warrior sent a mighty curt hail back in answer to Odda's

summons; then our war horns blew, and the oars rose and fell, and

we were grinding our bows alongside the great ship's quarter before

they knew we were there. Alfred's men had yet somewhat to learn of

fighting in a sea way, as it seemed, for we were on their deck aft

before they had risen from their oar benches. There were but one or

two men on the quarter deck, besides the steersman, to oppose us.

Odda thought we should lay our ship alongside his towering sides if

we fought, as I suppose, for he was amidships.

So we swept the decks from aft forward without any hurt to

ourselves: for the Saxons were hampered with the oars, and fell

backward over them, and hindered one another. It was strange to

hear my men laughing in what seemed most terrible slaughter; for

their foes fell before they were smitten, and lay helpless under

the oars, while their comrades fell over them.

So we won to the foot of the mast, and then found that there were

some on board who were none so helpless: for as we came they swung

the great yard athwart ships, and that stayed us; while over the

heap of canvas glared those who would make it hard for us to win

the ship altogether.

But before we came to stern fighting, I had a word to say; so I

called for Odda.

A square built, brown-bearded man with a red, angry face pushed his

way to the front of his men, and frowned at me.

"What will you? here am I," he said shortly.

One could understand his words well enough when face to face, for

he spoke in the mixed tongue that any Northman understands, the

plain words of which all our kin have in common.

"I am no foe of Alfred's," I said; "I do not know, therefore, why I

should fight you."

"Are you not for the Danes?" he said.

"I hate them more or less, and I have no traffic with them."

"Well, then, what will you?"

"You bade me yield, and therefore I am here. Now I think it is a

matter to be seen whether of us does so."

"It seems that you have slain about half my men," he said.

"Nevertheless, I do not give up without fighting for the rest of my

ship that you have not won."

"That is well said," I answered.

But the men were laughing, for Kolgrim had stooped, and, reaching

under an oar bench, had dragged out a rower by the neck. The man

swore and struggled; but Kolgrim hove him up, and lifted him over

the yard to Odda's feet.

"They are all like that, Saxon," he said cheerfully. "Maybe there

is a head or two broken; 'tis mostly what we call seasickness,

however."

Odda looked at the man, who seemed wretched enough, but had no

hurt; then he stared at our laughing faces, and his own brow began

to clear.

"It comes into my mind," he said, "that maybe you would listen to

me if I owned first that you have the best of us, and then asked

you to fight for Alfred of Wessex. We need the help of such men as

you just now; and if you hate Danes, we have work enough for you."

"One may certainly listen to that," I answered, laughing.

"What say you, men? Shall we cast in our lot with Alfred for a

while?"

"We follow you, Ranald the king," Kolgrim answered for all. "If it

seems good to you, it is good for us. There will be fighting

enough, I trow, if all we have heard is true."

Then said Odda:

"And that before long. There is a Danish fleet in Poole Harbour

that is to bring Danes from Wareham to the help of those whom

Alfred holds in Exeter. We have to meet this fleet and scatter it."

"Then," said old Thord, "your men must be better handled, for Danes

are no new swordsmen or seamen either."

Now the men stood listening to our talk, and this sort of saying

was not good for them to hear, if they were to meet the foe soon

with a good hope of victory. So Odda said quickly:

"If you will indeed fight for us, you must trust to Alfred to give

you fitting reward. I do not know what I might say about that,

having thought of no such chance as this. But there is no man who

can complain of him."

I had heard that the king was ever open handed, but also that at

this time he had little to give. Maybe, however, we might help him

to riches again. I had the men to think of, but I will say for

myself that I had not thought of asking what reward or pay should

be given.

I sheathed my sword, and held out my hand to Odda across the yard

that was between us; and he grasped it honestly, while the men on

either side cheered.

"Stay here and speak with me," Odda said. "Now we must get back to

the fleet."

Then went back to our ship, all but Thord and half a dozen

warriors, whom he kept as guard for me, I suppose; and the

grappling lines were cast off. Then we made sail again, and headed

to rejoin the rest of the Saxon vessels. Odda's crippled ship had

repaired her damage at this time, and went with us. But first it

was plain that she thought we had taken her consort, for she

prepared to fight us, and Odda had to hail her once or twice before

she was sure of what had happened. Then her crew cheered also.

Now Odda took me aft, and we sat together on his quarter deck.

Thord came also, and leaned on the rail beside us, looking with

much disfavour at the crew, who were plainly landsmen at sea for

the first time, if they were stout fighting men enough. Maybe there

were ten seamen among the hundred and fifty, but these had handled

the ship well under canvas, as we knew.

"You have come in good time, King Ranald," Odda said. "You see what

state we are in; can you better it for us?"

"Many things I can see that need strengthening," I answered. "But

you seem to take me into your counsels over soon, seeing that I

have just fallen on you sword in hand."

"Why," said Odda frankly, "it is just your way of speaking to me

sword in hand that makes me sure that I can trust you. I cannot

deny that you had this ship at your mercy, and that the other would

have been yours next; and you knew it, and yet spoke me fair. So it

is plain that you mean well by us."

"Ay," said I, "but for your bidding me to yield, there would have

been no fighting at all, when I knew to whom the ships belonged."

"You have put a thought in my mind, and I am glad you did board us,

seeing there is no harm done," Odda answered. "I will tell you what

it is. Send me some of your men to order my people and tell them

how to prepare for battle. Here am I sent to sea for the first

time, with good warriors enough who are in like case, and a few

seamen who can sail the ship and know nought else."

"You have some Norsemen yonder, if I mistake not," I said, looking

at the fleet which we were nearing.

"Ay--wandering vikings who care nought for what I say. They were

going to Rolf, and the king persuaded them to take this cruise

first. If you can make them follow you, there will be another

matter for which I shall be more than thankful."

Thereat Thord growled: "They will follow Ranald Vemundsson well

enough; have no care about that."

Then said I:

"These are the finest ships I have ever seen. Where did they come

from?"

"Alfred, our king, planned them," said Odda, with much pride; "and

they were built by our own men, working under Frisian shipwrights,

in Plymouth."

"How will you like to command one of these, Thord?" I asked then.

"I like the ship well enough. The crew is bad. And then, whose

command is the fleet under?"

"Take the ship, Thord, and lick my crew into shape; and Ranald,

your king, shall command the fleet," Odda said plainly.

"Fair and softly," said Thord bluntly. "I can do the two things you

ask me; but will your men follow Ranald?"

"Faith," said Odda, "if I say they are to do so, they must."

So in the end I left Thord and my seamen with Odda; but I would not

take his place, only saying that I would lead the Norsemen, and

that he could follow our plans. I would put more good men into each

of his five ships, and they should do what they could. At least

they could teach the Saxons how to board a ship, and how to man

their own sides against boarders from a foe.

Those Norsemen said they would gladly follow the son of King Vemund

and foster son of Einar the jarl; and so we led the strange fleet,

and held on eastward with a light breeze all that day, making

little way when the tide turned, and held back by the slower

vessels. Men in plenty there were, but ill fitted for aught but

hand fighting; though I had more Norsemen sent into the larger

ships, such as those that had been taken from the Danes and the

better trading vessels. One might soon see the difference in the

trim and order on board as the vikings got to work and the Saxons

overcame their sickness.

Now we might meet the Danes at any time, and I could not tell how

matters would go. One thing was certain, however, and that was that

they looked for no gathering of ships by Alfred. We should

certainly take them by surprise, and I hoped, therefore, that they

would be in no trim for fighting.

There was a very swift cutter belonging to the Norsemen, and as

night fell I sent her on to keep watch along the shore for the

first coming of the Danes, while we shortened sail; for the mouth

of Poole Harbour was not far distant, and if we passed that we

should be seen, and perhaps it would be guessed that we were not a

friendly fleet. Towards evening, too, the wind shifted, and blew

more off the shore, and that might bring them out from their haven.

Kolgrim, who was weather wise, said that a shift of wind to the

southward was coming presently.

When morning came, the high cliffs of Swanage were on our bow, the

wind was yet steady from off shore, and beyond the headland lay

Poole Harbour, at whose head is Wareham, where the Danes were. It

is a great sea inlet with a narrow mouth, and one must have water

enough on a rising tide to enter it. Now the ebb was running, and

if the Danes came this morning, it would be soon.

They came, as it seemed, for the cutter was flying back to us under

sail and oars; and before she reached us, the first Danish ships

were clear of the Swanage headlands, making for the offing. Then I

got my ships into line abreast, and Thord worked up Odda's five

alongside us to seaward; and all the while the Danish sails hove

into sight in no sort of order, and seeming so sure that none but

friends could be afloat that they paid no heed to us.

Soon there were full a hundred vessels of all sorts off Swanage

point, and the cutter brought word that there were but twenty more.

Then I ran up my fighting flag, and everywhere along our line rose

a great cheering as we hoisted sail and sped down on the foe. It

was long since the seas had borne a fleet whence the Saxon war cry

rang.

The leading Danes were ahead of us as we gathered way, and their

long line straggled right athwart our course. We should strike

their midmost ships; and at last they saw what was coming, and

heard the din of war horns and men's voices that came down wind to

them, and there were confusion and clamour on their decks, and

voices seemed to call for order that did not come.

Then one or two longships from among them struck sail and cleared

for action, and on these swooped Alfred's great ships. Odda's

crashed upon and sank the first she met, and plunged and shook

herself free from the wreck, and sought another. And beyond her the

same was being wrought; and cheers and cries were strangely mixed

where those high bows went forward unfaltering.

Now a ship crowded with men was before me. As we boarded, her crew

were yet half armed, and struggling to reach the weapon chests

through the press, even while our dragon head was splintering the

gunwale; and I leaped on board her, with my men after me and Harek

beside me.

Then sword Helmbiter was let loose for the first time since Sigurd

wielded her; and though a great and terrible cry came from over the

water as one of Alfred's ships sank another Dane, I could look no

more, for there was stern fighting before me.

What a sword that was! Hardly could my arm feel the weight of it as

it swung in perfect balance, and yet I knew the weight it had as it

fell. Helm and mail seemed as nought before the keen edge, and the

shields flew in twain as it touched them.

Forward I went, and aft went Harek the scald, and there was soon an

end. The Danes went overboard, swimming or sinking, as their fate

might be, and only the slain bided before us. The ship was ours,

and I looked round to see what should be next. No other ship had

come to help our prey.

Then I saw a wonderful sight. Panic terror had fallen on the Danes,

and not one ship of all that great fleet was not flying down the

wind without thought of fighting. Among them went our vessels,

great and small, each doing her work well; and the Saxon shouts

were full of victory.

So we must after them, and once more we boarded a longship, and had

the victory; and then we were off the haven mouth, and with the

flood tide the wind was coming up in gusts from the southeast that

seemed to bode angry weather. By that time no two Danish ships were

in company, and the tide was setting them out to sea.

"Here is a gale coming," said Kolgrim, looking at the sky and the

whitening wave crests. "We had best get our ships into this haven

while we can."

It seemed that Thord was of the same mind, for now he was heading

homeward, and the other Saxons were putting about and following

him. So I got men into the best of the ships we had taken, and

waited till Thord in Odda's ship led the way, and so followed into

Poole Harbour.

Well it was for us that we had refuge so handy. For by noonday the

gale was blowing from the southwest, and two Danish ships were

wrecked in trying to gain the harbour--preferring to yield to us

rather than face the sea, with a lee shore, rocky and hopeless,

waiting for them.

We went into the Poole inlet, which is on the eastern side of the

wide waters of the haven, and there found good berths enough. The

village was empty, save for a few Saxon fishermen, who hailed us

joyfully. And then Odda made for us as good a feast as he might in

the best house that was there, bidding every shipmaster to it.

Merry enough were all, though we had but ship fare; for the Saxons

had great hopes from this victory.

Now Odda made much of what I had done--though it was little

enough--saying that I and my men deserved well of Alfred, and that

he hoped that we should stay with him for this winter, which would

perhaps see the end of the war.

"Why," said I, "things would have been much the same if I had not

been here."

"That they would not," he answered. "I should have blundered past

this place in the night, and so lost the Danes altogether; or if I

had not done that, they would soon have found out what state my men

were in. You should have heard old Thord rate them into order; it

is in my mind that he even called me--Odda the ealdorman--hard

names in his broad Norse tongue. But at least he gave us somewhat

more to think of than the sickness that comes of heaving planks

that will by no means keep steady for a moment."

He laughed heartily at himself, and then added:

"Good King Alfred thought not at all of that matter. Now I can

shift the whole credit of this victory to your shoulders, and then

he will not believe that I am the born sea captain that he would

have me think myself."

"I will not have that," I said, "for I have not deserved it."

"Ay; but, I pray you, let me put it from myself, else shall I be

sent to sea again without any one to look to for advice," he said

earnestly, and half laughing at the same time. "I did but take

command of this fleet because the king could find no one else at a

pinch. Heaven defend me from such a charge again!"

"Now you have only the Exeter Danes to deal with," I said.

"How many men might these ships have held?" he asked.

"Maybe five thousand," I answered.

Thereat his face changed, and he rose up from his seat at the high

table, and said that he would go down to see that the ships were

safe, for the gale was blowing heavily as the night fell.

So we went outside the house, and called a man, telling him to find

one of the Poole fishermen and bring him to speak to us.

"There were twelve thousand Danes in Wareham," he said, "for more

have come lately. I thought they would all have been in the ships."

"If that had been possible, not one would have seen the morning's

light," I answered, "for their ships are lost in this gale

certainly."

Now I will say that I was right. The wrecks strewed the shore of

Dorset and Hants next morning; and if any men won to land, there

waited for them the fishers and churls, who hated them. No Danish

fleet was left in the channel after that gale was spent.

When the fisher came, he told us that as many more Danes were left

in Wareham, and that those from Poole had fled thither when they

saw what had happened to the fleet.

"Shall you march on Wareham and scatter them, or will they fall on

us here?" I asked; for we had no more than two thousand men at

most.

"I would that I knew what they thought of this business," he

answered; "but I shall not move tonight. It is far by land, and I

suppose we could not get the ships up in the dark."

So he posted pickets along the road to Wareham, and we went back to

the house for a while. And presently, as it grew dark, a wild

thought came into my mind. I would go to Wareham with a guide, and

see what I could find out of the Danish plans. Maybe there were

fewer men than was thought, or they might be panic-stricken at our

coming in this wise; or, again, they might march on us, and if so,

we should have to get to sea again, to escape from double our

numbers.

Now the more I thought of this, the more I grew bent on going, for

I was sure that we must know what was going on. And at last I took

Odda aside while Harek sang among the men, and told him what I

would do.

At first he was against my running the risk; but I told him that a

Norseman might go safely where a Saxon could not among the Danes,

and at last I persuaded him. Then I called Kolgrim, and we went out

together into the moonlight and the wind, to find the fisherman we

had spoken with already and get him to act as guide. I think that

Odda did not expect to see either of us again; and when I came to

know more of Saxons, I learned that he trusted me most fully, for

many thanes would have thought it likely that I went on some

treacherous errand.

King Alfred's Viking: A Story of the First English Fleet · 第 3 / 14 章