HAVELOK, SON OF GUNNAR.
Now after I had gone, Grim, my father, tried to bring the child round,
but he could not do so; and therefore, leaving him near the fire, he
went softly to call Leva, my mother, to help him; and all the while he
was wondering who the child might be, though indeed a fear that he knew
only too well was growing in his heart, for there would surely he only
one whom Hodulf could wish out of his way.
As he opened the door that led to the sleeping room beyond the high
seat, the light shone on Leva, and showed her sitting up in bed with
wide eyes that seemed to gaze on somewhat that was terrible, and at
first he thought her awake. But she yet slept, and so he called her
gently, and she started and woke.
“Husband, is that you?” she said. “I had a strange dream even now which
surely portends somewhat.”
Now, as all men know, our folk in the north are most careful in the
matter of attending to dreams, specially those that come in troubled
times, holding that often warning or good counsel comes from them. I
cannot say that I have ever had any profit in that way myself, being no
dreamer at all; but it is certain that others have, as may be seen
hereafter. Wherefore my father asked Leva what this dream might be.
“In my dream,” she answered, “it seemed that you came into the house
bearing a sack, which you gave into my charge, saying that therein lay
wealth and good fortune for us. And I would not believe this, for you
said presently that to gain this the sack and all that was therein was
to be thrown into the sea, which seemed foolishness. Whereon I cast it
into a corner in anger, and thereout came pitiful cries and wailings.
Then said I that it were ill to drown aught that had a voice as of a
child, and so you bade me leave it. Then I seemed to sleep here; but
presently in my dream I rose and looked on the sack again, and lo!
round about it shone a great light, so that all the place was bright,
and I was afraid. Then you came and opened the sack, and therein was a
wondrous child, from whose mouth came a flame, as it were the shaft of
a sunbeam, that stretched over all Denmark, and across the sea to
England, whereby I knew that this child was one who should hereafter be
king of both these lands. And on this I stared even as you woke me.”
Now Grim was silent, for this was passing strange, and moreover it
fitted with his thought of who this child might be, since Hodulf. would
make away with him thus secretly.
“What make you of the dream?” asked Leva, seeing that he pondered on
it.
“It is in my mind that your dream will come true altogether, for
already it has begun to do so,” he answered. “Rise and come into the
hall, and I will show you somewhat.”
On that Leva made haste and dressed and came out, and there, lying as
if in sleep before the fire, was the wondrous child of her dream, and
the sack was under his head as he lay; and she was wont to say to those
few who knew the story, that the kingliness of that child was plain to
be seen, as had been the flame of which she had dreamed, so that all
might know it, though the clothes that he wore were such as a churl
might be ashamed of.
Then she cried out a little, but not loudly, and knelt by the child to
see him the better; and whether he had come to himself before and had
dropped asleep for very weariness, or out of his swoon had passed into
sleep, I cannot say, but at her touch he stirred a little.
“What child is this? and how came he here?” she asked, wondering.
“Already your dream has told you truly how he came,” Grim answered,
“but who he is I do not rightly know yet. Take him up and bathe him,
wife; and if he is the one I think him, there will be a mark whereby we
may know him.”
“How should he be marked? And why look you to find any sign thus?”
But Grim had turned down the rough shirt and bared the child’s neck and
right shoulder, whereon were bruises that made Leva well-nigh weep as
she saw them, for it was plain that he had been evilly treated for many
days before this. But there on the white skin was the mark of the
king’s line—the red four-armed cross with bent ends which Gunnar and
all his forebears had borne.
Seeing that, Leva looked up wondering in her husband’s face, and he
answered the question that he saw written in her eyes.
“He is as I thought—he is Havelok, the son of Gunnar, our king. Hodulf
gave him to me that I might drown him.”
Then he told her all that had happened, and how from the first time
that he had lifted the sack and felt what was within it he had feared
that this was what was being done. Hodulf would have no rival growing
up beside him, and as he dared not slay him openly, he would have it
thought that he had been stolen away by his father’s friends, and then
folk would maybe wait quietly in hopes that he would come again when
time went on.
Now Leva bathed Havelok in the great tub, and with the warmth and
comfort of the hot water he waked and was well content, so that
straightway, when he was dressed in Withelm’s holiday clothes, which
fitted him, though he was but seven years old at this time, and Withelm
was a well-grown boy enough for his ten winters, he asked for food, and
they gave him what was yet on the board; and we lived well in Denmark.
“There is no doubt that he hath a kingly hunger,” quoth Grim as he
watched him.
“Friend,” said Havelok, hearing this, though it was not meant for his
ears, “it is likely, seeing that this is the third day since I have had
food given me. And I thank you, good people, though I would have you
know that it is the custom to serve the king’s son kneeling.”
“How should we know that you are the king’s son indeed?” asked Grim.
“I am Havelok, son of Gunnar,” the boy said gravely. “Yon traitor,
Hodulf, has slain my father, and my two sisters, and driven out my
mother, whither I cannot tell, and now he would drown me.”
Then the boy could hardly keep a brave front any longer, and he added,
“Yet I do not think that you will do to me as I heard him bid you.”
Then came over Grim a great pity and sorrow that it should seem needful
thus to sue to him, and there grew a lump in his throat, so that for a
while he might not answer, and the boy thought him in doubt, so that in
his eyes there was a great fear. But Leva wept outright, and threw
herself on her knees beside him, putting her arms round him as he sat,
speaking words of comfort.
Then Grim knelt also, and said, “Thralls of yours are we, Havelok, son
of Gunnar, and for you shall our lives be given before Hodulf shall
harm you. Nor shall he know that you live until the day comes when you
can go to him sword in hand and helm on head, with half the men of this
realm at your back, and speak to him of what he did and what he
planned, and the vengeance that shall be therefor.”
So Grim took on himself to be Havelok’s foster-father, and, as he
ended, the boy said with glowing eyes, “I would that I were grown up.
How long shall this be before it comes to pass?”
And then of a sudden he said, as a tired child will, “Friends, I am
sorely weary. Let me sleep.”
So Leva took him in her arms and laid him in their own bed; and at once
he slept, so that she left him and came back to Grim by the fireside,
for there was much to be said.
First of all it was clear that Havelok must be hidden, and it was not
to be supposed that Hodulf would be satisfied until he had seen the
thrall to whom he had trusted such a secret come back for his reward.
If he came not he would be sought; and then he would find out to whom
he had spoken, and there would be trouble enough.
But it seemed easy to hide Havelok on board the ship, and sail with him
to England as soon as possible. A few days might well pass before a
thrall could get to Hodulf, so that he would suspect nothing just at
first. There were merchants in England who would care for the boy well,
and the two boats might be sunk, so that the king should not ask whose
they were. So when Grim came home again the fisher would be thought of
as drowned on his errand, and Hodulf would be content.
But then, after a little talk of this, it was plain that all the town
could not be told to say that the fisher was drowned on such a night,
and Hodulf would leave naught undone to find the truth of the matter.
So the puzzle became greater, and the one thing that was clear was that
Grim was in sore danger, and Havelok also.
Then suddenly outside the dogs barked, and a voice which they obeyed
quieted them. Grim sprang for his axe, which hung on the wall, and went
to the door, whereon someone was knocking gently.
“Open, uncle; it is I, Arngeir.”
“What does the boy want at this time?” said Grim, taking down the great
bar that kept the door, axe in hand, for one must be cautious in such
times as these.
Arngeir came in—a tall young man of twenty, handsome, and like Grim in
ways, for he was his brother’s son.
“Lucky am I in finding you astir,” he said. “I thought I should have
had to wake you all. Are you just home from sea, or just going out?”
“Not long home,” answered Leva; “but what has brought you?”
“I have a guest for you, if I may bring one here at this hour.”
“A friend of yours never comes at the wrong time,” Grim said. “Why not
bring him in?”
“If it were a friend of mine and a man he would do well enough at my
house for the night,” said Arngeir, smiling; “but the one for whom I
have come is a lady, and, I think, one in sore trouble.”
“Who is she?” asked my mother, wondering much.
“From the king’s town, certainly,” answered Arngeir, “but I do not know
her name. Truth to tell, I forgot to ask it, for she is sorely spent;
and so I made haste to come to you.”
Then Leva would know how a lady came at this time to Arngeir’s house,
for he was alone, save for his four men, being an orphan without other
kin beside us, and his house was close to our shipyard and the sea.
“She came not to me, but I found her,” he replied. “My horse is sick,
and I must get up an hour ago and see to it for the second time
tonight. Then as I came from the stable I saw someone go towards the
shipyard, and, as I thought, into the open warehouse. It was dark, and
I could not tell then if this was man or woman; but I knew that no one
had business there, and there are a few things that a thief might pick
up. So I took an axe and one of the dogs, and went to see what was on
hand, but at first there was naught to be found of anyone. If it had
not been for the dog, I think that I should have gone away, but he went
into the corner where the bales of wool are set, and there he whined
strangely, and when I looked, there was this lady on the bales, and she
was weeping and sore afraid. So I asked her what was amiss, and it was
not easy to get an answer at first. But at last she told me that she
had escaped from the burning of the king’s town, and would fain be
taken across the sea into some place of peace. So I cheered her by
saying that you would surely help her; and then I took her to my house
and came to you. Worn and rent are her garments, but one may see that
they have been rich, and I deem her some great lady.”
“Go and bring her here, husband,” said my mother, on hearing that.
But he was already going, and at once he and Arngeir went out and down
the street. There were many other ladies and their children who had
taken refuge here with the townsfolk after the burning, and the coming
of this one was but another count in the long tale of trouble that
began on the Welsh shore with the ways of Gunnar, the church’s bane.
My father was long gone, and the day was breaking when he came back. My
mother slept in the great chair before the fire, for waiting had
wearied her, but she woke as she heard Grim’s footstep, and unbarred
the door to him, ready to welcome the guest that she looked for. But he
was alone, and on his face was the mark of some new trouble, and that a
great one.
He came in and barred the door after him, and then sat down wearily and
ate for the first time since we had had our meal at sea; and while he
did so Leva asked him nothing, wondering what was wrong, but knowing
that she would hear in good time. And when he had eaten well he spoke.
“The lady is Eleyn the queen. She has been wandering for these many
days from place to place, sometimes in the woods, and sometimes in
hiding in the cottages of the poor folk, always with a fear of staying
in one place, lest Hodulf should find her, for it is known that he is
seeking her. Then at last one told her of my ship, and she is here to
seek me.”
Now one may know what the wonder and pity of my mother was, and she
would fain have gone to her. But Grim had left her at Arngeir’s house,
for folk were stirring in the town, and there were many who would know
the queen if they saw her.
“It will soon be known that Arngeir has a guest,” my mother said,
“whereas none would have wondered had she been here.”
“By this time tomorrow it will not matter if Hodulf knows,” answered
Grim, “for she will be safe.”
“Where will you hide her then and what of Havelok?”
“For those two there is no safety but across the sea, and they are the
most precious cargo that I shall ever have carried. Already Arngeir and
the men are at work on the ship, getting the rollers under her keel,
that she may take the water with the next tide. I shall sail with the
tide that comes with the darkness again, saying that I shall find cargo
elsewhere in other ports, as I have done once before.”
“I had not looked to say farewell to you quite so soon,” my mother
said; “but this is right. Now I will have all things ready, that the
queen shall be in what comfort she may on the voyage. But it will be
well that none shall know, even of your seamen, who the passengers are,
else will word go to Hodulf in some way hereafter that Havelok has
escaped.”
“I have thought of that,” answered Grim. “It will be best that none,
not even Radbard, shall know who this is whom we have in the house. A
chance word goes far sometimes.”
“The boy will tell his name.”
“There are many who are named after him, and that is no matter. Do you
speak to him, for it is plain that he has sense enough, and bid him say
naught but that he and his mother have escaped from the town, and, if
you will, that he escaped in the sack. I will speak to Radbard, and
there will be no trouble. Only Arngeir must know the truth, and that
not until we are on the high seas perhaps.”
So there seemed to be no more fear, and in an hour the house was astir,
and there was work enough for all in preparing for the voyage. As for
me, I went down to the ship with my father, and worked there.
Now, I will say that not for many a long year did I know who this
foster-brother of mine was. It was enough for me to be told that he was
the son of some great man or other with whom Hodulf had a private feud.
Nor did I ever speak of that night’s work to any, for my father bade me
not to do so. Presently I knew, of course, that the lady was Havelok’s
mother; but that told me nothing, for I never heard her name.
We worked at the ship for three hours or so, stowing the bales of wool
and the other little cargo we had; and then my father sent me to the
fishing-boats for a pair of oars belonging to the ship’s boat that were
there, and, as it fell out, it was a good thing that I and not one of
the men went. When I came to the place where they were drawn up on the
beach, as we had left them last night, there was a stranger talking to
some of the fisher folk, who were working at their nets not far off;
and though another might have paid no heed to this, I, with the
remembrance of last night fresh in my mind, wondered if he was by any
chance there on an errand from Hodulf. I thought that, were I he, I
should surely send someone to know, at least, if the fisher went out
last night after I had spoken with him. So I loitered about until the
man went away, which he did slowly, passing close to me, and looking at
the boats carefully, as if he would remember them. Then I went and
asked the men to whom he had been speaking what he wanted. They said
that they wondered that he had not spoken to me, for he had been asking
about my father and of his ship, and if he took any passenger with him
this voyage. It would seem that he wanted to sail with us, from all he
said.
Certainly he had begun by asking whose boats these were, and wondered
that a merchant should go fishing at all, when there was no need for
him to do so. Also he had asked if Grim had been out last night, and
they had of course told him that he had not, for neither boat had been
shifted from the berth she had been given when we came in at dusk.
“Ah,” he had said, “well did I wot that your merchant would do no night
work,” and so made a jest of the matter, saying that in his country it
were below the state of a merchant to have aught to do with a thrall’s
work. He was certainly a Norseman, and they thought that I should find
him with my father. Now I thought otherwise, and also I saw that all
was known. This man was a spy of Hodulf’s, and would go straight back
to his master. My father must hear of this at once; and I hurried back
to the ship, and took him aside and told him. And as I did so his face
grew grey under the tan that sea and wind had given it, and I knew not
altogether why.
“Tell Arngeir to come to me,” he said; “I am going to the jarl. Tell no
one, but go home and say to mother that I shall be with her in an hour.
Then come back and work here.”
Then he and Arngeir went to Sigurd, and told him all from the
beginning. And when the jarl heard, he was glad for the safety of the
queen and of Havelok, but he said that there was no doubt that Denmark
was no place for Grim any longer.
“That is my thought also,” said my father; “but now am I Havelok’s
foster-father, and for him I can make a home across the sea, where I
will train him up for the time that shall surely come, when he shall
return and take his father’s kingdom.”
“That is well,” the jarl said, “but you have little time. What Hodulf
will do one cannot say, but he may come here with his men behind him to
force me to give you up, and the town will be searched for Havelok, and
both he and the queen will be lost.”
“If that is so,” my father answered, “we have time enough. Two hours
for the spy to reach his master; one hour for Hodulf to hear him, and
to bethink himself; an hour for gathering his men; and four hours, at
the least, in which to get here. Eight hours, at the least, have we,
and the tide serves in six. I had thought of waiting till dark, but
that is of no use now. We may as well go, for there are true men here,
who will wait to welcome him who flies when he comes again.”
“This is a sore wrench for you and yours, good friend and faithful,”
Sigurd said, “but it must be. Nevertheless I can make your loss as
little as it may be. You shall sell all that is yours to me at your own
price, that you may have the means to make a new home well, wherever
you may choose.”
At first my father would not have that, saying that there would be much
trouble on his account presently.
But Sigurd said that, first, the trouble was not of his making at all;
and next, that if Hodulf plundered the place, it was as well to send
away as much as possible beforehand; and lastly—and this was what
touched my father most—that he must think of his charge.
“Why, old friend, you are giving up all for Havelok, as would I. And am
I to have no share in the training of him for the days to come?”
Therewith he waited for no more words, but went to his great chest, and
took thereout chain after chain of linked gold rings, and put them in a
canvas bag, without weighing or counting them, and gave them to Grim.
“Lord, here is enough to buy half the town!” my father said.
“What of that? The town is Havelok’s by right, and maybe you can buy
him a village across seas with it. But give me a full quittance for my
purchase of your goods and cattle and house, that I may have right to
them.”
That Grim did at once, before witnesses who were called in, none
wondering that he chose thus to secure his property while he was away,
because Hodulf might make demands on it. They did not know that any
money changed hands, and thought it formal only, and a wise thing to be
done.
After that Grim and Arngeir took leave of the jarl, thanking him, and
they went to our house.
There waited my mother anxiously enough, for she knew from my message
that there was somewhat new to be told, or my father had not left the
ship. Nor do I think that what was to be done was altogether a surprise
to her, for she had thought much, and knew the dangers that might crop
up. So, being very brave, she strove to make light of the trouble that
leaving her home cost her, and set about gathering the few things that
she could take.
Now on the hearth sat Withelm, tending the fire, and he heard presently
that we were all to go to sea; and that pleased him well, for he had
ever longed to sail with his father. As for Havelok, he had waked once,
and had well eaten, and now was sleeping again.
Then said Withelm, “When will the sacrifice to Aegir and Ran[5] for
luck on the swan’s path be?”
“Scant time have we for that,” my father said, “for tide will not
wait.”
“Then,” said the boy, “it were well to take the stone altar with us,
and make sacrifice on board. I have heard that Aegir is wrathful and
strong.”
Then my father said to Leva, “The boy is right in one thing, and that
is, that if we are to make a new home beyond the sea, the blue stones
that have belonged to our family since time untold should go with us,
else will there be no luck in this flitting.”
“What matter?”
“West they came with us in the days of Odin, and west they shall go
with us once more,” my father said.
And there was an end of question on the matter, for presently Arngeir
came up with the team of oxen and a sled, and my father hastily cried
to Thor as in time of sudden war, and then on the sled they loaded the
stones easily. I helped, and it is certain that they were no trouble to
uproot or lift, though they were bedded in the ground and heavy.
Wherefrom we all thought that the flitting was by the will of the
Norns, and likely to turn out well.
But in no way could we lift Thor himself. It was as if he were rooted,
and maybe he was so. Therefore we left him, but sadly.
One may suppose that, had any noticed that Grim was taking these sacred
things with him, there would have been a talk; but as we sailed light,
none thought them aught but needed ballast; and we brought other stones
to the ship with them and afterwards.
Of course folk did wonder at this sudden sailing of ours, but my father
made no secret of his wish to get out of the way of Hodulf, who had
taken the ships of one or two other men elsewhere, so that all thought
he feared that his would be the next to be seized, and deemed him
prudent in going. As for our own crew, they were told that it was
certain that the ship would be taken unless we went on this tide, and
so they worked well.
Very early in the morning, and unseen, Arngeir had brought Eleyn, the
queen, on board, and she was in the cabin under the raised after deck
all the while that the bustle of making ready was going on. Only my
father went in there at any time, unless he gave the key to one of us,
for there he kept his valuables and the arms.
Presently, when all the men were forward and busy, I got Havelok on
board unnoticed. We had kept Withelm running to and fro from ship to
house with little burdens all the morning, mightily busy; and then,
when the chance came, Havelok in Withelm’s clothes, and with a bundle
on his head, came running to me. I waited by the after cabin, and I
opened the door quickly and let him in. Then he saw his mother; and how
those two met, who had thought each other lost beyond finding, I will
not try to say.
I closed the door softly and left them, locking it again, and found
Withelm close to me, and Arngeir watching to see that all went well.
Soon after that there came a Norseman, dressed as a merchant, who
talked with my father of goods, and lading, and whither he was bound,
and the like. When he went away, he thought that he had found out that
we were for the Texel, but I do not know that he was from Hodulf. There
had been time for him to send a spy in haste, however, if he wished to
watch us; but at any rate this man heard naught of our charges.
Then, at the last moment, my mother and the children came on board, and
at once we hauled out of the harbour. I mind that an old woman ran
along the wharf when she found that all were going, and cried that Dame
Leva had not paid for certain fowls bought of her; and my father
laughed in lightness of heart, and threw her a silver penny, so that
she let us go with a blessing. And after that it did not matter what
the people thought of this going of ours, for in an hour we were far at
sea with a fair wind on the quarter, heading south at first, that the
Norseman might see us, but when the land was dim astern, and there was
no more fear, bearing away south and west for the Humber in far-off
England.
Now that was the last I saw of Denmark for many a long year, and I knew
it must be so. But, as I have told, none but my father and mother, and
now Arngeir, knew all that we were carrying with us.