It was Beorn who woke me. Out of his swoon, or whatever it was that
had taken his senses, he woke with a start and shudder that brought
me from sleep at once, thinking that the boat had touched ground.
But there was no land in sight now, and all around me was the wide
circle of the sea, and over against me Beorn, my evil companion,
glowering at me with a great fear written on his face.
Now as I woke and saw him, my hand went at once to the dagger at my
side, as my first waking thoughts felt troubled by reason of all he
had done, though it was but for a moment. Thereat he cried out,
praying me to have mercy on him, and tried to rise, going near to
capsize the boat. Indeed, I cannot believe that the man had ever
been in a boat before.
"Lie down," I said, speaking sharply, as to a dog, "or you will
drown us both before the time!"
He was still enough then, fearing the water more than steel, as it
seemed, or seeing that I meant him no harm.
Then I spoke plainly to him.
"I will harm you not. But your life is in my hands in two ways. I
can slay you by water or dagger for one thing; or for another, I
think I can take this boat to shore at some place where you are not
known, and so let you live a little longer. And in any case I have
a mind to try to save my own life; thus if you will obey me so that
I may tend the boat, yours shall be saved with it, so far as I am
concerned. But if you hinder me, die you must in one way or
another!"
Now he saw well enough that his only hope lay in my power to take
the boat safely across the water, and so promised humbly to obey me
in all things if I would but spare him and get the boat to shore
quickly. So I unbound him and coiled the rope at my feet again,
bidding him lie down amidships and be still.
Many a time men have asked me why I slew him not, or cast him not
overboard, thus being troubled no more with him. Most surely I
would have slain him when we fought, in the white heat of
anger--and well would it have been if Ulfkytel had doomed him to
death, as judge. But against this helpless, cringing wretch, whose
punishment was even now falling on him, how could I lift hand? It
seemed to me, moreover, that I was, as it were, watching to see
when the stroke of doom would fall on him, as the earl said it
surely must on the guilty.
The wind freshened, and the boat began to sing through the water,
for it needed little to drive her well. My spirits rose, so that I
felt almost glad to be on the sea again, but Beorn waxed sick and
lay groaning till he was worn out and fell asleep.
Now the breeze blew from the southwest, warm and damp, as it had
held for a long time during this winter, which was open and mild so
far. And this was driving us over the same track which Lodbrok had
taken as he came from his own place. There was no hope of making
the English shore again, and so I thought it well to do even as the
jarl, and rear up the floorboards in such wise as to use them for a
sail to hasten us wherever we might go.
So I roused Beorn, and showed him how to bestow himself out of my
way, and made sail, as one might say. At once the boat seemed to
come to life, flying from wave to wave before the wind, and I made
haste to ship the long oar, so that I could steer her with it.
And when I went aft, there, in the sharp hollow of the stern that I
had uncovered, lay two great loaves and a little breaker of water.
Now I could not tell, and do not know even to this day, what kindly
man hid these things for us, but I blessed him for his charity, for
now our case was better than Lodbrok's in two ways, that we had no
raging gale and sea to wrestle against, and the utmost pangs of
hunger and thirst we were not to feel. Three days and two nights
had he been on his voyage. We might be a day longer with this
breeze, but the bread, at least, we need not touch till tomorrow.
But Beorn slept heavily again, and I told him not of this store as
yet, for I thought that he would but turn from it just now. Which
was well, for he could not bear a fast as could I.
So the long day wore through, and ever the breeze held, and the
boat flew before it. Night fell, and the dim moon rose up, and
still we went east and north swiftly. The long white wake stretched
straight astern of us, and Beorn slept deeply, worn out; and the
sea ran evenly and not very high, so that at last I dared to lash
the oar in its place and sleep in snatches, waking now and then to
the lift of a greater wave, or catching the rushing in my ears as
some heavier-crested billow rose astern of us. But the boat was
swift as the seas, and there was nothing to fear. Nor was the cold
great at any time, except towards early morning before the first
light of dawn. Moreover, the boat sailed in better trim with two
men in her.
Gray morning came, and the seas were longer and deeper, for we were
far on the wide sea. All day long was it the same, wave after wave,
gray sky overhead, and the steady breeze ever bearing us onward.
Once it rained, and I caught the water in the bailer and drank
heartily, giving his fill to Beorn, and with it I ate some of my
loaf, and he took half of his. Then slowly came night, and at last
I waxed lonely, for all this while I had kept a hope that I might
see the sail of Halfden's ship, but there was no glint of canvas
between sky and sea, and my hope was gone as the darkness fell.
So I sang, to cheer myself, raising my voice in the sea song that I
had made and that Lodbrok had loved. And when that was done I sang
the song of Bosham bell, with the ending that the gleeman on
Colchester Hill had made.
Thereat Beorn raised his head and, snarling at me like an angry
dog, bade me cease singing of shipwreck. But I heeded him not, and
so I sang and he cursed, until at last he wept like an angry child,
and I held my peace.
I did not dare sleep that night, for the wind freshened, and at
times we might see naught but sky above us and the waves ahead and
astern of the boat, though to one who knew how to handle his craft
there was no danger in them. But from time to time Beorn cried out
as the boat slid swiftly down the slope of a great wave, hovered,
and rose on the next, and I feared that he would leap up in his
terror and end all.
"Bide still or I will bind you," I said at last to him, and he hid
his face in his arms, and was quiet again.
Worn out when day broke was I, and again I ate and gave to Beorn,
and he would eat all his loaf, though I bade him spare it, for I
knew not how long yet we might be before we saw land. And that
seemed to change his mood, and he began to scowl at me, though he
dared say little, and so sat still in his place, glowering at me
evilly.
Presently came a whale, spouting near us, and that terrified him,
so that he cried to me to save him from it, as though I had power
on the seas more than had other men. But it soon went away, and he
forgot his terror, beginning to blame me for not having gained the
shore yet.
I could say nothing, for I knew not how far we had run; yet we had
come a long way, and I thought that surely we must have sailed as
swiftly as Lodbrok, for the sea had favoured us rather than given
trouble. Even now I thought the colour of the water changed a
little, and I began to think that we neared some land at last.
As the sun set, the wind shifted more to the westward, and I
thought a change was coming. It was very dark overhead until the
waning moon rose.
Now, soon after moonrise Beorn began to groan, in his sleep as I
thought; but presently he rose up, stiffly, from long sitting, and
I saw that his eyes were flashing, and his face working strangely
in the pale moonlight. I bade him lie down again, but he did not,
and then I saw that he was surely out of his mind through the
terror of the sea and the long nothingness of the voyage to which
he was all unused. Then he made for me with a shout, and I saw that
I must fight for my life. So I closed with him and dragged him down
to the bottom of the boat, and there we two struggled, till I
thought that the end was come.
The boat plunged and listed, and once was nearly over, but at that
new strength came to me, and at last I forced his shoulders under
the midship thwart, and held him there so that he could by no means
rise. Then all his fury went, and he became weak, so that I reached
out with one hand for the line and bound him easily, hand and foot.
I set him back in his place, and the water washed over his face as
he lay, for we had shipped a good deal in the lurches our struggle
caused. Then he was still, and as on the first night, seemed to
sleep, breathing very heavily.
So I left him bound, and bailed the water out. Then knew I how weak
I was. Yet I held on, steering from wave to wave as though I could
not help it.
Once, towards morning, there came a booming in my ears, and a
faintness, for I was all but done. But the boat dashed into a wave,
and the cold spray flew over me and roused me to know the danger,
so I took my last crust and ate it, and was refreshed a little.
But when the morning broke cold and gray over brown waves, there,
against one golden line of sunlight, rose the black steady barrier
of a low-lying coast, and round the boat the gulls were screaming
their welcome.
Then came over me a dull fear that I should be lost in sight of
land, and a great sorrow and longing for the English shore in place
of this, for never had I seen sunrise over land before from the
open sea, and hunger and thirst gnawed at me, and I longed for rest
from this tossing of sea, and wave--and always waves. Then I looked
in Beorn's evil face, and I thought that he was dead, but that to
me seemed to matter not.
Swiftly rose up the coast from out the sea, and I saw that it was
like our East Anglian shore, forest covered and dark, but with pine
and birch instead of oak and alder. The boat was heading straight
through a channel; past sands over which I could see the white line
of the tide on either side, and that chance seemed not strange to
me, but as part of all that was to be and must be.
Then the last rollers were safely past, and the boat's keel grated
on sand--and I forgot my weakness, and sprang out into the shallow
water, dragging her up with the next wave and out of reach of the
surges.
Then I saw that the tide was falling, and that I had naught more to
do, for we were safe. With that I gave way at last, and reeled and
fell on the sand, for my strength could bear no more, and I deemed
that I should surely die.
I think that I fell into a great sleep for a while, for I came to
myself presently, refreshed, and rose up.
The tide had ebbed a long way, and the sun was high above me, so
that I must have been an hour or two there upon the sand. I went
and looked at Beorn.
His swoon seemed to have passed into sleep, and I unbound him, and
as I did so he murmured as if angry, though he did not wake.
Then I thought that I would leave him there for some other to find,
and try to make my way to house or village where I might get food.
I could send men thence to seek him, but I cared not if I never set
eyes on him again, hoping, indeed, that I should not do so.
So I turned and walked inland through the thin forest for a little
way, stumbling often, but growing stronger and less stiff as I
went, though I must needs draw my belt tight to stay the pangs of
hunger, seeing that one loaf is not overmuch for such a voyage and
such stern work as mine had been, body and mind alike unresting.
Nor had I far to go, for not more than a mile from shore I saw a
good hut standing in a little clearing; and it was somewhat like
our own cottages, timber-framed, with wattle and clay walls, but
with thatch of heather instead of our tall reeds, and when I came
near, I saw that the timber was carved with twisted patterns round
door and window frames.
No dog came out at me, and no one answered when I called, and so at
last I lifted the latch and went in. There was no one, but the
people could not be far off, for meat and bread and a great pitcher
of ale stood on the round log that served for table, as if the meal
was set against speedy homecoming, and the fire was banked up with
peats, only needing stirring to break into a blaze.
Rough as it all was, it looked very pleasant to me, and after I had
called once or twice I sat down, even as I should have done in our
own land, and ate a hearty meal, and drank of the thin ale, and was
soon myself again. I had three silver pennies, besides the gold
bracelet on my arm that I wore as the king's armour bearer and
weapon thane, and was sure of welcome, so when I had done I sat by
the fire and waited till someone should come whom I might thank.
Once I thought of carrying food to Beorn, but a great hatred and
loathing of the man and his deed came over me, and I would not see
him again. And, indeed, it was likely that he would come here also,
as I had done, when he woke; so that when at last I heard footsteps
I feared lest it should be he.
But this comer whistled cheerfully as he came, and the tune was one
that I had often heard men sing when I was with Halfden. It was the
old "Biarkamal", the song of Biark the Viking.
Now at that I was very glad, for of all things I had most feared
lest I should fall on the Frisian shores, for if so, I should
surely be made a slave, and maybe sold by the lord of the coast to
which I came. But Danes have no traffic in slaves, holding freedom
first of all things. And that is one good thing that the coming of
the Danish host has taught to us, for many a Saxon's riches came
from trading in lives of men.
Then the door was pushed open, for I had left it ajar, and in came
a great dog like none we have in England. I thought him a wolf at
first, so gray and strong was he, big enough and fierce enough
surely to pull down any forest beast, and I liked not the savage
look of him. But, though he bristled and growled at first sight of
me, when he saw that I sat still as if I had some right to be
there, he came and snuffed round me, and before his master came we
were good friends enough, if still a little doubtful. But I never
knew a dog that would fly at me yet, so that I think they know well
enough who are their friends, though by some sign of face or voice
that is beyond my knowledge.
Now came the man, who edged through the door with a great bundle of
logs for the fire, which he cast down without looking at me, only
saying:
"Ho, Rolf! back again so early? Where is the Jarl?"
Now I knew that he was a Dane, and so I answered in his own way:
"Not Rolf, but a stranger who has made free with Rolf's dinner."
Whereat the man laughed, setting hands on hips and staring at me.
"So it is!" he said; "settle that matter with brother Rolf when he
comes in, for strangers are scarce here."
Then he scanned my dress closely, and maybe saw that they were sea
stained, though hunting gear is made for hard wear and shows
little.
"Let me eat first," he said, sitting down, "and then we will talk."
But after he had taken a few mouthfuls, he asked:
"Are there any more of you about?"
"One more," I said, "but I left him asleep in the boat that brought
us here. We are from the sea, having been blown here."
"Then he may bide till he wakes," the man said, going on with his
meal.
Presently he stopped eating, and after taking a great draught of
ale, said that he wondered the dog had not torn me.
"Whereby I know you to be an honest man. For I cannot read a man's
face as some can, and therefore trust to the dog, who is never
wrong," and he laughed and went on eating.
Now that set me thinking of what account I might give of myself,
and I thought that I would speak the truth plainly, though there
was no reason to say more than that we were blown off the English
coast. What Beorn would say I knew not; most likely he would lie,
but if so, things must work themselves out.
I looked at the man in whose house I was, and was pleased with him.
Red haired and blue eyed he was, with a square, honest face and
broad shoulders, and his white teeth shone beneath a red beard that
covered half his face.
When he had eaten even more than I, he laughed loudly, saying that
brother Rolf would have to go short this time, and then came and
sat by the fire over against me, and waited for me to say my say.
So I told him how we had come, and at that he stared at me as our
folk stared at Lodbrok, and started up, crying that he must go and
see this staunch boat that had served me so well.
"Bide here and rest," he said, "and I will bring your comrade to
you," and with that he swung out of the house, taking the dog with
him. And at once the thought of leaving the hut and plunging into
the forest came into my mind, but I knew not why I should do so,
except that I would not see Beorn again. However, there was a third
man now, and I would see what befell him.
Now I waited long, and had almost fallen asleep beside the warm
fire, when I heard a horn away in the woods, and roused up to
listen. Twice or thrice it sounded, and then I heard it answered
from far off. So I supposed that there was a hunt going on.
Then I heard no more, and fell asleep in earnest; for I needed rest
badly, as one might well suppose.
Something touched my hand and I awoke. It was the great dog, who
came and thrust his nose against me, having made up his mind to be
friendly altogether. So when his master came in I was fondling his
head, and he looked puzzled.
"Say what men will," he said, "I know you are an honest man!"
"Do you hold that any will doubt it?" I asked, wondering what he
meant; for he looked strangely at me.
"Aye; the jarl has found your boat, and has sent me back to keep
you fast. Know you whose boat you have?"
"It belonged to Jarl Lodbrok, who came ashore in it, as I have come
here--and he gave it me."
"Hammer of Thor!" said the man. "Is the jarl alive?"
"What know you of him?" I asked.
"He was our jarl--ours," he answered.
"Who is the other jarl you speak of?" I asked him, with a hope that
Halfden had come home, for now I knew that we had indeed followed
Lodbrok's track exactly.
"How should it be other than Ingvar Lodbroksson? for we have held
that Lodbrok, his father, is dead this many a long day."
"Let me go to the jarl," I said, rising up. "I would speak with
him," for I would, if possible, tell him the truth, before Beorn
could frame lies that might work ill to both of us, or perhaps to
me most of all. Yet I thought that I saw the shadow of judgment
falling on the murderer.
"Bide quiet," said the man; "he will be here soon."
And then he said, looking from me to the dog, "Now I hold you as a
true man, therefore I will tell you this--anger not the jarl when
he speaks to you."
"Thanks, friend!" I answered heartily, "I think I shall not do
that. Is he like his father?"
The man laughed shortly, only saying:
"Is darkness like daylight?"
"Then he is not like Jarl Halfden."
Now the honest man was going to ask in great wonder how I knew of
him, when there came the quick trot of horses to the door, and a
stern voice, which had in its tones somewhat familiar to me, called
him:
"Raud, come forth!"
My host started up, and saying, "It is Jarl Ingvar," went to the
door, while I too rose and followed him, for I would not seem to
avoid meeting the son of Lodbrok, my friend.
"Where is this stranger?" said the jarl's voice; "bring him forth."
Raud turned to beckon me, but I was close to him, and came out of
the hut unbidden.
There sat a great man, clad in light chain mail and helmed, with
his double-headed axe slung to his saddle bow, but seeming to have
come from hunting, for he carried a short, broad-pointed boar
spear, and on the wrist of his bridle hand sat a hooded hawk like
Lodbrok's. His face had in it a look both of his father and of
Halfden, but it was hard and stern; and whereas they had brown
hair, his was jet black as a raven's wing. Maybe he was ten years
older than Halfden.
There were five or six other men, seemingly of rank, and on
horseback also, behind him, but they wore no armour, and were in
hunting gear only, and again there were footmen, leading hounds
like the great one that stood by Raud and me. And two men there
were who led between them Beorn, holding him lest he should fall,
either from weakness or terror, close to the jarl.
So I stood before Ingvar the Jarl, and wondered how things would
go, and what Beorn had said, though I had no fear of him. And as
the jarl gazed at me I raised my hand, saying in the viking's
greeting:
"Skoal to Jarl Ingvar!"
At that he half raised hand in answer, but checked himself, saying
shortly:
"Who are you, and how come you by my father's boat?"
I was about to answer, but at that word it seemed that for the
first time Beorn learnt into whose hands he had fallen, and he fell
on his knees between his two guards, crying for mercy. I think that
he was distraught with terror, for his words were thick and broken,
and he had forgotten that none but I knew of his ill deed.
That made the jarl think that somewhat was amiss, and he bade his
men bind us both.
"Bind them fast, and find my brother Hubba," he said, and men rode
away into the forest. But I spoke to him boldly.
"Will you bind a man who bears these tokens, Jarl?"
And I held out my hand to him, showing him the rings that Lodbrok
and Halfden had given me.
"My father's ring--and Halfden's!" he said, gripping my hand, as he
looked closely at the runes upon them, so tightly that it was pain
to me. "By Odin's beard, this grows yet stranger! Who are you, and
whence, and how came you by these things?"
"I am Wulfric, son of Elfric, the Thane of Reedham, 'the merchant'
as men call him. I have been Jarl Lodbrok's friend, and have fought
by the side of Halfden, his son, as these tokens may tell you. As
for the rest, that is for yourself alone, Jarl. For I have no good
tidings, as I fear."
"Who is this man, then, and why cries he thus in terror?"
"Beorn, falconer to Eadmund, King of the East Angles," I said.
But I would not answer at once to the other question, and Ingvar
seemed not to notice it.
Then there was silence while the great jarl sat on his horse very
still, and looked hard at me and at Beorn; but when the men would
have bound us he signed them back, letting Beorn go free. Whereupon
his knees gave way, and he sank down against the house wall, while
I leant against it and looked at the mighty Dane, somewhat dreading
what I had to tell him, but meaning to go through all plainly.
Now the ring of men closed round us, staring at us, but in silence,
save for the ringing of the horns that were blowing in the woods to
call Hubba from his sport. And Jarl Ingvar sat still, as if carved
in oak, and seemed to ponder, frowning heavily at us, though the
look in his eyes went past me as it were.
Glad was I when a horseman or two rode up and reined in alongside
Ingvar. I think that the foremost rider was the most goodly warrior
to look on that I had ever seen, and one might know well that he
was Lodbrok's son.
"Ho, brother!" he cried; "I thought you had harboured the greatest
bear in all Jutland in Raud's hut. And it is naught but two
strangers. What is the trouble with them?"
"Look at yon man's hand," said Ingvar.
I held out my hand, and Hubba looked at the rings, whereupon his
face lit up as Halfden's had lighted, and he said:
"News of our father and brother! That is well; tell us, friend, all
that you know."
"Stay," said Ingvar; "I took yon man from the boat we made for our
father; he was half dead therein, and his wrists have the marks of
cords on them; also when he heard my name he began to cry for
mercy, and I like it not."
"This friend of our folk will tell us all," said Hubba.
"Aye," said I, "I will tell you, Jarls. But I would speak to you
alone."
"Tell me," said Ingvar shortly; "came my father to your shores in
yon boat alive?"
"Aye," I answered.
"And he died thereafter?"
"He died, Jarl," I said; and I said it sadly.
Then said Hubba:
"Almost had I a hope that he yet lived, as you live. But it was a
poor hope. We have held him as dead for many a long day."
But Ingvar looked at Beorn fixedly, and the man shrank away from
his gaze.
"How did he die, is what I would know?" he said sternly.
"Let the man to whom Halfden and Lodbrok gave these gifts tell us
presently. We have enough ill news for the time. Surely we knew
that the jarl was dead, and it is ours but to learn how;" said
Hubba.
"How know you that these men slew not both?"
"Jarl Ingvar," I said; "I will tell you all you will, but I would
do so in some less hurried way than this. For I have much to tell."
"Take the men home, brother," said Hubba; "then we can talk."
"Bind the men," said Ingvar again.
"Nay, brother, not the man who wears those rings," said Hubba
quickly.
"Maybe, and it is likely, that they are ill come by, and he will
make up some lie about them," answered Ingvar.
"It will be easily seen if he does," answered his brother; "wait
till you know."
Ingvar reined his horse round and rode away without another word.
Then Hubba bade the man Raud and his brother, a tall man who had
come with the Jarl Ingvar, take charge of us until word should come
from him, and then rode after Ingvar with the rest of the folk.
"Come into the house," said Raud to me. "I fear you have ill news
enough, though only what we have expected."
So we went inside, and I sat in my old place beside the fire. Rolf,
the brother, helped Beorn to rise, and set him on a seat in a
corner where he could rest, and then we were all silent. The great
dog came and sat by me, so that I stroked him and spoke to him,
while he beat his tail on the floor in response.
"See you that," said one brother to the other.
"Aye; Vig says true, mostly."
"One may trust him," said Raud; telling of how Vig the dog had made
friends with me at first, and he nodded in friendly wise to me, so
that I would not seem to hold aloof, and spoke to him.
"That is Jarl Hubba, surely?"
"Aye, and the best warrior in all Denmark," said Raud. "We fear
Ingvar, and we love Halfden; but Hubba is such a hero as was Ragnar
himself."
And once set on that matter, the two honest men were unwearied in
telling tales of the valour and skill of their master, so that I
had no room for my own thoughts, which was as well.
Then came a man, riding swiftly, to say that the jarls had left
their hunting, and that we were to be taken to the great house.
Moreover, that Rolf and Raud were to be held answerable for our
safe keeping. When I heard that I laughed.
"I will go willingly," I said, rising up.
"What of this man who sits silent here?" asked Rolf.
"Little trouble will be with him," said his brother.
And indeed Beorn almost needed carrying forth.