THE VIKING RAID--ALRIC'S ADVENTURE WITH THE DANE--ERLING'S CUTTER, AND
THE BATTLE IN THE PASS.
"Whom have we here?" exclaimed Erling, looking close into the face of
the wounded man. "What! Swart of the Springs!"
Erling said this sternly, for he had no liking for Swart, who was a
notorious character, belonging to one of the neighbouring fiords--a wild
reckless fellow, and, if report said truly, a thief.
"That recent mischief has cost thee a cracked crown?" asked Erling, a
little more gently, as he observed the exhausted condition of the man.
"Mischief enough," said Swart, rising from the stone on which he had
seated himself, and wiping the blood, dust, and sweat from his haggard
face, while his eyes gleamed like coals of fire; "Skarpedin the Dane has
landed in the fiord, my house is a smoking pile, my children and most of
the people in the stede are burned, and the Springs run blood!"
There was something terrible in the hoarse whisper in which this was
hissed out between the man's teeth. Erling's tone changed instantly as
he laid his hand on Swart's shoulder.
"Can this be true?" he answered anxiously; "are we too late? are _all_
gone?"
"_All_," answered Swart, "save the few fighting men that gained the
fells." The man then proceeded to give a confused and disjointed
account of the raid, of which the following is the substance.
Skarpedin, a Danish viking, noted for his daring, cruelty, and success,
had taken it into his head to visit the neighbourhood of Horlingdal, and
repay in kind a visit which he had received in Denmark the previous
summer from a party of Norsemen, on which occasion his crops had been
burned, his cattle slaughtered, and his lands "herried", while he
chanced to be absent from home.
It must be observed that this deed of the Northmen was not deemed
unusually wicked. It was their custom, and the custom also of their
enemies, to go out every summer on viking cruise to plunder and ravage
the coasts of Denmark, Sweden, Britain, and France, carrying off all the
booty they could lay hold of, and as many prisoners as they wanted or
could obtain. Then, returning home, they made slaves or "thralls" of
their prisoners, often married the women, and spent the winter in the
enjoyment of their plunder.
Among many other simple little habits peculiar to the times was that
called "Strandhug". It consisted in a viking, when in want of
provisions, landing with his men on any coast--whether that of an enemy
or a countryman--and driving as many cattle as he required to the shore,
where they were immediately slaughtered and put on board without leave
asked or received!
Skarpedin was influenced both by cupidity and revenge. Swart had been
one of the chief leaders of the expedition which had done him so much
damage. To the Springs therefore he directed his course with six
"longships", or ships of war, and about five hundred men.
In the afternoon of a calm day he reached the fiord at the head of which
were the Springs and Swart's dwelling. There was a small hamlet at the
place, and upon this the vikings descended. So prompt and silent were
they, that the men of the place had barely time to seize their arms and
defend their homes. They fought like lions, for well they knew that
there was no hope of mercy if they should be beaten. But the odds
against them were overwhelming. They fell in heaps, with many of their
foes underneath them. The few who remained to the last retreated
fighting, step by step, each man towards his own dwelling, where he fell
dead on its threshold. Swart himself, with a few of the bravest, had
driven back that part of the enemy's line which they attacked. Thus
they were separated for a time from their less successful comrades, and
it was not till the smoke of their burning homesteads rose up in dense
clouds that they became aware of the true state of the fight. At once
they turned and ran to the rescue of their families, but their retreat
was cut off by a party of the enemy, and the roar of the conflagration
told them that they were too late. They drew together, therefore, and,
making a last desperate onset, hewed their way right through the ranks
of their enemies, and made for the mountains. All were more or less
wounded in the _melee_, and only one or two succeeded in effecting their
escape. Swart dashed past his own dwelling in his flight, and found it
already down on the ground in a blazing ruin. He killed several of the
men who were about it, and then, bounding up the mountain side, sought
refuge in a ravine.
Here he lay down to rest a few moments. During the brief period of his
stay he saw several of his captured friends have their hands and feet
chopped off by the marauders, while a terrible shriek that arose once or
twice told him all too plainly that on a few of them had been
perpetrated the not uncommon cruelty of putting out the eyes.
Swart did not remain many moments inactive. He descended by a
circuitous path to the shore, and, keeping carefully out of sight, set
off in the direction of Horlingdal. The distance between the two places
was little more than nine or ten miles, but being separated from each
other by a ridge of almost inaccessible mountains, that rose to a height
of above five thousand feet, neither sight nor sound of the terrible
tragedy enacted at the Springs could reach the eyes or ears of the
inhabitants of Ulfstede. Swart ran round by the coast, and made such
good use of his legs that he reached the valley in little more than an
hour. Before arriving at Ulfstede his attention was attracted and his
step arrested by the sight of a warship creeping along the fiord close
under the shadow of the precipitous cliffs. He at once conjectured that
this was one of the Danish vessels which had been dispatched to
reconnoitre Horlingdal. He knew by its small size (having only about
twenty oars) that it could not be there for the purpose of attack. He
crouched, therefore, among the rocks to escape observation.
Now, it happened at this very time that Erling's brother Alric, having
executed his commission by handing the war-token to the next messenger,
whose duty it was to pass it on, came whistling gaily down a
neighbouring gorge, slashing the bushes as he went with a stout stick,
which in the lad's eyes represented the broadsword or battle-axe he
hoped one day to wield, in similar fashion, on the heads of his foes.
Those who knew Erling well could have traced his likeness in every act
and gesture of the boy. The vikings happened to observe Alric before he
saw them, as was not to be wondered at, considering the noise he made.
They therefore rowed close in to the rocks, and their leader, a stout
red-haired fellow, leaped on shore, ascended the cliffs by a narrow
ledge or natural footpath, and came to a spot which overhung the sea,
and round which the boy must needs pass. Here the man paused, and
leaning on the haft of his battle-axe, awaited his coming up.
It is no disparagement to Alric to say that, when he found himself
suddenly face to face with this man, his mouth opened as wide as did his
eyes, that the colour fled from his cheeks, that his heart fluttered
like a bird in a cage, and that his lips and tongue became uncommonly
dry! Well did the little fellow know that one of the Danish vikings was
before him, for many a time had he heard the men in Haldorstede describe
their dress and arms minutely; and well did he know also that mercy was
only to be purchased at the price of becoming an informer as to the
state of affairs in Horlingdal--perhaps a guide to his father's house.
Besides this, Alric had never up to that time beheld a _real_ foe, even
at a distance! He would have been more than mortal, therefore, had he
shown no sign of trepidation.
"Thou art light of heart, lad," said the Dane with a grim smile.
Alric would perhaps have replied that his heart was the reverse of light
at that moment, but his tongue refused to fulfil its office, so he
sighed deeply, and tried to lick his parched lips instead.
"Thou art on thy way to Ulfstede or Haldorstede, I suppose?" said the
man.
Alric nodded by way of reply.
"To which?" demanded the Dane sternly.
"T-to--to Ulf--"
"Ha!" interrupted the man. "I see. I am in want of a guide thither.
Wilt guide me, lad?"
At this the truant blood rushed back to Alric's cheeks. He attempted to
say no, and to shake his head, but the tongue was still rebellious, and
the head would not move--at least not in that way--so the poor boy
glanced slightly aside, as if meditating flight. The Dane, without
altering his position, just moved his foot on the stones, which act had
the effect of causing the boy's eyes to turn full on him again with that
species of activity which cats are wont to display when expecting an
immediate assault.
"Escape is impossible," said the Dane, with another grim smile.
Alric glanced at the precipice on his left, full thirty feet deep, with
the sea below; at the precipice on his right, which rose an unknown
height above; at the steep rugged path behind, and at the wild rugged
man in front, who could have clutched him with one bound; and admitted
in his heart that escape _was_ impossible.
"Now, lad," continued the viking, "thou wilt go with me and point out
the way to Ulfstede and Haldorstede; if not with a good will, torture
shall cause thee to do it against thy will; and after we have plundered
and burnt both, we will give thee a cruise to Denmark, and teach thee
the use of the pitchfork and reaping-hook."
This remark touched a chord in Alric's breast which at once turned his
thoughts from himself, and allowed his native courage to rise. During
the foregoing dialogue his left hand had been nervously twitching the
little elm bow which it carried. It now grasped the bow firmly as he
replied:
"Ulfstede and Haldorstede may burn, but thou shalt not live to see it."
With that he plucked an arrow from his quiver, fitted it to the string,
and discharged it full at the Dane's throat. Quick as thought the man
of war sprang aside, but the shaft had been well and quickly aimed. It
passed through his neck between the skin and the flesh.
A cry of anger burst from him as he leaped on the boy and caught him by
the throat. He hastily felt for the hilt of his dagger, and in the heat
of his rage would assuredly have ended the career of poor Alric then and
there; but, missing the hilt at the first grasp, he suddenly changed his
mind, lifted the boy as if he had been a little dog, and flung him over
the precipice into the sea.
A fall of thirty feet, even though water should be the recipient of the
shock, is not a trifle by any means, but Alric was one of those vigorous
little fellows--of whom there are fortunately many in this world--who
train themselves to feats of strength and daring. Many a time had he,
when bathing, leaped off that identical cliff into the sea for his own
amusement, and to the admiration and envy of many of his companions,
and, now that he felt himself tumbling in the air against his will, the
sensation, although modified, was nothing new. He straightened himself
out after the manner of a bad child that does not wish to sit on nurse's
knee, and went into the blue fiord, head foremost, like a javelin.
He struck the water close to the vessel of his enemies, and on rising to
the surface one of them made a plunge at him with an oar, which, had it
taken effect, would have killed him on the spot; but he missed his aim,
and before he could repeat it, the boy had dived.
The Dane was sensible of his error the instant he had tossed Alric away
from him, so he hastened to his boat, leaped into it, and ordered the
men to pull to the rocks near to which Alric had dived; but before they
could obey the order a loud ringing cheer burst from the cliffs, and in
another moment the form of Swart was seen on a ledge, high above, in the
act of hurling a huge mass of rock down on the boat. The mass struck
the cliff in its descent, burst into fragments, and fell in a shower
upon the Danes.
At the same time Swart waved his hand as if to someone behind him, and
shouted with stentorian voice:
"This way, men! Come on! Down into the boats and give chase! huzza!"
The enemy did not await the result of the order, but pulled out into the
fiord as fast as possible, while Swart ran down to the edge of the water
and assisted Alric to land. It was not until they heard both man and
boy utter a cheer of defiance, and burst into a fit of laughter, and saw
them hastening at full speed towards Horlingdal, that the vikings knew
they had been duped. It was too late, however, to remedy the evil.
They knew, also, that they might now expect an immediate attack, so,
bending to the oars with all their might, they hastened off to warn
their comrades at the Springs.
"Now, Swart," said Erling, after hearing this tale to its conclusion,
"if ye are not too much exhausted to--"
"Exhausted!" cried Swart, springing up as though he had but risen from a
refreshing slumber.
"Well, I see thou art still fit for the fight. Revenge, like love, is a
powerful stirrer of the blood. Come along then; I will lead the way,
and do thou tread softly and keep silence. Follow us, Alric, I have yet
more work for thee, lad."
Taking one of the numerous narrow paths that ran from Ulfstede to the
shores of the fiord, Erling led his companions to a grassy mound which
crowned the top of a beetling cliff whose base was laved by deep water.
Although the night was young--probably two hours short of midnight--the
sun was still high in the heavens, for in most parts of Norway that
luminary, during the height of summer, sinks but a short way below the
horizon--they have daylight all night for some time. In the higher
latitudes the sun, for a brief period, shines all the twenty-four hours
round. Erling could therefore see far and wide over the fiord, as well
as if it were the hour of noon.
"Nothing in sight!" he exclaimed in a tone of chagrin. "I was a fool to
let thee talk so long, Swart; but there is still a chance of catching
the boat before it rounds the ness. Come along."
Saying this hurriedly, the youth descended into what appeared to be a
hole in the ground. A rude zigzag stair cut in the rock conducted them
into a subterranean cavern, which at first seemed to be perfectly dark;
but in a few seconds their eyes became accustomed to the dim light, and
as they advanced rapidly over a bed of pebbles, Swart, who had never
been there before, discovered that he was in an ocean-made cave, for the
sound of breaking ripples fell softly on his ears. On turning round a
corner of rock the opening of the cave towards the sea suddenly appeared
with a dazzling light like a great white gem.
But another beautiful sight met his astonished gaze. This was Erling's
ship of war, the Swan, which, with its figurehead erect, as though it
were a living thing, sat gracefully on the water, above its own
reflected image.
"All ready?" asked Erling, as a man stepped up to him.
"All ready," replied Thorer.
"Get on board, Swart," said Erling; "we will teach these Danes a lesson
they will not forget as long as the Springs flow. Here, Alric--where
are ye, lad?"
Now, unfortunately for himself, as well as for his friend, Alric was
almost too self-reliant in his nature. His active mind was too apt to
exert itself in independent thought in circumstances where it would have
been wiser to listen and obey. Erling had turned with the intention of
telling his little brother that he had started thus quietly in order
that he might have the pleasure of capturing the scouting boat, and of
beginning the fight at the Springs with a small band of tried men, thus
keeping the enemy in play until reinforcements should arrive; for he
shrewdly suspected that if the whole valley were to go out at once
against the vikings, they would decline the combat and make off. He had
intended, therefore, to have warned Alric to watch the Swan past a
certain point before sounding the alarm at Ulfstede. But Alric had
already formed his own opinions on the subject, and resolved to act on
them.
He suspected that Erling, in his thirst for glory, meant to have all the
fun to himself, and to attack the Danes with his single boat's crew of
fifty or sixty men. He knew enough of war to be aware that sixty men
against six hundred would have very small chance of success--in fact,
that the thing was sheer madness--so he resolved to balk, and by so
doing to save, his headstrong brother.
When Erling turned, as we have said, he beheld Alric running into the
cave at full speed. Instantly suspecting the truth, he dashed after
him, but the boy was fleet, and Erling was heavily armed. The result
was, that the former escaped, while the latter returned to the beach and
embarked in the Swan in a most unenviable state of mind.
Erling's "longship" was one of the smaller-sized war vessels of the
period. It pulled twenty oars--ten on each side--and belonged to the
class named Snekiars, or cutters, which usually had from ten to twenty
rowers on a side. To each oar three men were apportioned--one to row,
one to shield the rower, and one to throw missiles and fight, so that
her crew numbered over sixty men. The forecastle and poop were very
high, and the appearance of height was still further increased by the
figurehead--the neck and head of a swan--and by a tail that rose from
the stern-post, over the steersman's head. Both head and tail were
richly gilt; indeed, the whole vessel was gaudily painted. All round
the gunwales, from stem to stern, hung a row of shining red and white
shields, which resembled the scaly sides of some fabulous creature, so
that when the oars, which gave it motion, and not inaptly represented
legs, were dipped, the vessel glided swiftly out of the cavern, like
some antediluvian monster issuing from its den and crawling away over
the dark blue sea. A tall heavy mast rose from the centre of the ship.
Its top was also gilded, as well as the tips of the heavy yard attached
to it. On this they hoisted a huge square sail, which was composed of
alternate stripes of red, white, and blue cloth.
It need scarcely be said that Erling's crew pulled with a will, and that
the waters of the fiord curled white upon the breast of the Swan that
night; but the vikings' boat had got too long a start of them, so that,
when they doubled the ness and pulled towards the Springs, they
discovered the enemy hurrying into their ships and preparing to push off
from the land.
Now, this did not fall in with Erling's purpose at all, for he was well
aware that his little Swan could do nothing against such an overwhelming
force, so he directed his course towards the mouth of a small stream,
beside which there was a spit of sand, and, just behind it, a piece of
level land, of a few acres in extent, covered with short grass. The
river was deep at its mouth. About a hundred yards upstream it flowed
out of a rugged pass in the mountains or cliffs which hemmed in the
fiord. Into this dark spot the Northman rowed his vessel and landed
with his men.
The vikings were much surprised at this manoeuvre, and seemed at a loss
how to act, for they immediately ceased their hurried embarkation and
held a consultation.
"Methinks they are mad," said Skarpedin, on witnessing the movements of
the Swan. "But we will give them occasion to make use of all the spirit
that is in them. I had thought there were more men in the dale, but if
they be few they seem to be bold. They have wisely chosen their ground.
Rocks, however, will not avail them against a host like ours. Methinks
some of us will be in Valhalla to-night."
Saying this Skarpedin drew up his men in order of battle on the little
plain before referred to, and advanced to the attack. Erling, on the
other hand, posted his men among the rocks in such a way that they could
command the approach to the pass, which their leader with a few picked
men defended.
On perceiving the intention of the Danes to attack him, Erling's heart
was glad, because he now felt sure that to some extent he had them in
his power. If they had, on his first appearance, taken to their ships,
they might have easily escaped, or some of the smaller vessels might
have pulled up the river and attacked his ship, which, in that case,
would have had to meet them on unequal terms; but, now that they were
about to attack him on land, he knew that he could keep them in play as
long as he pleased, and that if they should, on the appearance of
reinforcements, again make for their ships, he could effectively harass
them, and retard their embarkation.
Meditating on these things the young Norseman stood in front of his men
leaning on his battle-axe, and calmly surveying the approaching foe
until they were within a few yards of him.
"Thorer," he said at length, raising his weapon slowly to his shoulder,
"take thou the man with the black beard, and leave yonder fellow with
the red hair to me."
Thorer drew his sword and glanced along its bright blade without
replying. Indeed, there was scarce time for reply. Next moment the
combatants uttered a loud shout and met with a dire crash. For some
time the clash of steel, the yells of maddened men, the shrieks of the
wounded, and the wails of the dying, resounded in horrible commotion
among the echoing cliffs. The wisdom of Erling's tactics soon became
apparent. It was not until the onset was made, and the battle fairly
begun, that the men whom he had placed among the rocks above the
approach to the pass began to act. These now sent down such a shower of
huge stones and masses of rock that many of the foe were killed, and by
degrees a gap was made, so that those who were on the plain dared not
advance to the succour of those who were fighting in the pass.
Seeing this, Erling uttered his war-cry, and, collecting his men
together, acted on the offensive. Wherever his battle-axe swung, or
Thorer's sword gleamed, there men fell, and others gave way, till at
last they were driven completely out of the pass and partly across the
plain. Erling took care, however, not to advance too far, although
Skarpedin, by retreating, endeavoured to entice him to do so; but drew
off his men by sound of horn, and returned to his old position--one man
only having been killed and a few wounded.
Skarpedin now held a council of war with his chiefs, and from the length
of time they were about it, Erling was led to suspect that they did not
intend to renew the attack at the same point or in the same manner. He
therefore sent men to points of vantage on the cliffs to observe the
more distant movements of the enemy, while he remained to guard the
pass, and often gazed anxiously towards the ness, round which he
expected every minute to see sweeping the longships of Ulf and his
father.