"Hauskuld, I have a business for thee to do, which requires the heart of
a brave fellow. There is a man near Horlingdal who has not only refused
to submit to my will, but has gathered a band of seventy men or more
about him, and threatens to raise the country against me. It does not
suit me to go forth to punish this dog just now, for my preparations are
not yet complete. Nevertheless it is important that he should be
crushed, as he dwells in the heart of a disaffected district. It is
therefore my purpose to send thee with a small body of picked men to do
thy worst by him."
"That suits me well," said Hauskuld; "what is his name?"
"Atli," answered the King.
"He is my foster-brother!" said Hauskuld, with a peculiar and unpleasant
smile.
The King looked a little perplexed.
"Thou wilt not have much heart to the business if that be so," he said.
"When you command, sire, it is my duty to obey," replied Hauskuld.
"Nay, but I can find other stout men for this thing. There is Hake of
Hadeland. Go, send him hither. I will not put this on thy shoulders."
"Sire, you are considerate," said Hauskuld, "but this foster-brother of
mine I count an enemy, for reasons that I need not tell. Besides, he is
said to be a warlock, and for my part I firmly believe that he is in
league with Nikke, so that it would be a service to the gods to rid the
world of him. If you will permit me, I will gladly go on this errand,
and as this Atli is a stout man, it would be well to take Hake and a few
of the berserkers along with me."
"Do as thou wilt," replied the King, with a wave of his hand, as he
turned away; "only, what thou doest, see thou do it well and quickly."
The berserk shouldered his battle-axe and left the hall. As he walked
away the King stood in the doorway looking after him with a mingled
expression of admiration and dislike.
"A stalwart knave," he muttered to himself, while a grim smile played on
his large handsome features; "a good fighting brute, no doubt, but, with
such a spirit, a bad servant, I fear."
"There are many such in your army," said a deep, stern voice behind him.
The King turned quickly round, with a look of anger, and fixed a
searching glance on the huge form of Rolf Ganger, who stood leaning on
the hilt of his sword with a quiet, almost contemptuous smile on his
face.
"It is well known that birds of a feather are fond of flying in
company," said the King, with a flushed countenance; "no doubt thou
speakest from personal knowledge and experience."
It was now Rolf's turn to flush, but the King did him injustice, having
no ground for such a speech, further than a knowledge that there existed
between them mutual antipathy which neither was particularly careful to
conceal.
"Have I done aught to merit such words?" demanded Rolf sternly.
Harald was on the point of making an angry rejoinder, but, placing a
powerful restraint upon himself, he said--
"It may be that thine actions are loyal, but, Rolf, thy words are
neither wise nor true. It is not wise to attempt to shake my confidence
in my followers, and it is not true that many of them are untrustworthy.
But, if thou wouldst prove thyself a real friend, go, get thy longships
ready with all speed, for we fare south a few days hence, and there will
be work for the weapons of stout men ere long."
"I go to prepare myself for the fight, King Harald," returned Rolf, "but
I have no occasion to give thee further proof of friendship. The world
is wide enough for us both. My ocean steeds are on the fiord.
Henceforth I will fight for my own hand."
For one moment the King felt an almost irresistible impulse to draw his
sword and hew down the bold Rolf, but with characteristic self-restraint
he crushed down his wrath at the time and made no reply, good or bad, as
the other turned on his heel and left him. When he had gone some
distance the King muttered between his set teeth--
"Another good fighting brute and bad servant! Let him go! Better an
open foe than an unwilling friend."
That night Hauskuld and Hake set sail southward with a small body of
picked men; and Rolf Ganger, with a large body of devoted followers,
left Harald's camp and travelled eastward. In the course of several
days Hauskuld and his men arrived at the small fiord near the head of
which stood the dwelling of Atli.
This Atli was an unusually intelligent man, a man of great influence in
his district, and one who, like Erling the Bold, was determined to
resist the tyranny of Harald Fairhair. A large force had been gathered
by him towards the end of winter, and at the time of Hauskuld's visit he
was living in his own house with about seventy chosen men.
Unfortunately for these, the peaceful winter had induced them to relax a
little in vigilance. Knowing from the report of spies that the King was
still feasting in the Drontheim district, they felt quite safe, and for
some time past had neglected to set the usual night watch, which, in
time of war, was deemed indispensable. Thus it happened that when
Hauskuld and his men came upon them in the dead of a dark night, they
found everything quiet, and went up to the door of the house
unchallenged. On trying the latch they found it fast, but from the
sounds within they knew that a great many men were sleeping there.
Hauskuld and Hake had approached the house alone. They now returned to
their companions, who were concealed in the deep shades of the
neighbouring woods.
"What dost thou advise?" asked Hake of his brother berserk.
"That we burn them all in their nest," replied Hauskuld.
"What! foster-brother too?" said the other.
"Aye, wherefore not? He is a warlock. So are most of the men with him.
Burning is their due."
"There is wood enough here for that purpose," said Hake, with a grim
smile.
Hauskuld immediately directed the greater part of his force to gather
dry wood, and silently pile it all round the house, while he and Hake
with a few men stood in front of the doors and windows to guard them.
The work was accomplished in a much shorter time than might have been
expected, for those who performed it were strong and active, and well
accustomed to such deeds. In less than an hour the whole of Atli's
house was surrounded by a thick pile of dry inflammable brushwood. When
it was all laid the men completely surrounded the house, and stood with
arrows fitted to the strings, and swords loosened in the sheaths. Then
Hauskuld and several others applied lights to the brushwood at various
points. For a few seconds there was an ominous crackling, accompanied
by little flashes of flame, then a dense smoke rose up all round.
Presently the rushing fire burst through the black pall with a mighty
roar, and lit up the steading with the strength of the sun at noonday,
while flame and smoke curled in curious conflict together over the
devoted dwelling, and myriads of sparks were vomited up into the dark
sky. At the same instant doors and windows were burst open with a
crash, and a terrible cry arose as men, half clad and partly armed,
leaped out and rushed through the circle of fire, with the flame
kindling on their hair and garments.
Not less relentless than the fire was the circling foe outside.
Whizzing arrows pierced the scorched breasts of some, and many fell
dead. Others rushed madly on sword or spear point, and were thrust
violently back into the fire, or fell fighting desperately for their
lives. Some of the attacking party were killed, and a few wounded, but
not one of the assailed succeeded in bursting through the line. Atli
and all his followers perished there!
It is dreadful to think that such diabolical deeds were ever done; but
still more dreadful is it to know that the spirit which dictated such
atrocities still haunts the breast of fallen men, for the annals of
modern warfare tell us all too plainly that unregenerate man is as
capable of such deeds now as were the Norsemen in days of old.
Having fulfilled his mission, Hauskuld left the place as quickly as
possible, and hastened back to Drontheim; not, however, without learning
on the way that preparations were being secretly made all over that
district to resist the King, and that, in particular, Solve Klofe was in
the fiord at Horlingdal, with several ships of war, doing his best to
fan the flame of discontent, which was already burning there briskly
enough of its own accord!
On returning again to King Harald's quarters, Hauskuld found that
energetic monarch engaged in celebrating one of the heathen feasts, and
deemed it prudent for some hours to avoid his master, knowing that when
heated with deep potations he was not in the best condition to receive
or act upon exasperating news. He therefore went into the great hall,
where the King and his guests were assembled, and quietly took his place
at the lower end of one of the long tables near the door.
As is usual with men of inferior and debased minds, the berserk
misunderstood and misjudged his master. He had counted on escaping
notice, but the King's eye fell on him the instant he entered the hall,
and he was at once summoned before him, and bidden tell his tale. While
he related the details of the dreadful massacre Hauskuld felt quite at
ease, little dreaming that the King's fingers twitched with a desire to
cut him down where he stood; but when he came to speak of the widespread
disaffection of the people in the south, he stammered a little, and
glanced uneasily at the flushed countenance of the King, fearing that
the news would exasperate him beyond endurance. Great, therefore, was
his surprise when Harald affected to treat the matter lightly, made some
jesting allusion to the potent efficacy of the sword in bringing
obstinate people to reason, and ordered one of the waiting-girls to
fetch the berserk a foaming tankard of ale.
"There, drink, Hauskuld, my bold berserk! drink down to a deeper peg,
man. After such warm work as thou hast had, that will serve to cool thy
fiery spirit. Drink to the gods, and pray that thou mayest never come
to die, like an old woman, in thy bed--drink, I say, drink deep!"
The King laughed jovially, almost fiercely, in his wild humour, as he
made this allusion to the well-known objection that the Norse warriors
of old had to dying peacefully in bed; but for the life of him he could
not resist the temptation, as he turned on his seat, to touch with his
elbow the huge silver tankard which the berserk raised to his lips! The
instantaneous result was that a cataract of beer flowed down Hauskuld's
face and beard, while the rafters rang with a shout of laughter from the
Sea-kings and court-men who sat in the immediate neighbourhood of the
King's high seat. Of course Harald blamed himself for his clumsiness,
but he too laughed so heartily that the masses of his fair hair shook
all over his shoulders, while he ordered another tankard to be filled
for his "brave berserk". That brave individual, however, protested that
he had had quite enough, and immediately retired with a very bad grace
to drink his beer in comfort out of a horn cup among kindred spirits.
Immediately after he was gone the King sent for Hake, for whom he also
ordered a silver tankard of ale; but to him the King spoke earnestly,
and in a low whispering voice, while his courtiers, perceiving that he
wished his converse with the berserk to be private, quaffed their liquor
and talked noisily.
The young woman who filled Hake's tankard at the King's bidding was no
other than Gunhild, the unfortunate widow of Swart of the Springs. For
some time after the death of her husband she had dwelt at Haldorstede,
and had experienced much kindness at the hands of the family; but having
taken a longing to visit her relatives, who belonged to the Drontheim
district, she was sent thither, and had become a member of Harald's
household, through the influence of King Hakon of Drontheim, the father
of Ada of Horlingdal.
Hakon had from necessity, and much against his inclination, become one
of Harald Fairhair's jarls. During the feast of which we write, he sat
on the King's left hand.
After filling Hake's tankard Gunhild retired, but remained within
earshot.
"Hake," said the King, leaning over the arm of his high seat, "it is now
time that we were moving south; and the news thou hast brought decides
me to complete my arrangements without delay. It seems that Ulf of
Romsdal and that fellow Erling the Bold, with his fierce father, are
making great preparations for war?"
"Truly they are," said Hake. "I saw as much with my own eyes."
"But may this not be for the purpose of going on viking cruise?"
"Had that been so, mine ears would have guided me, and we had brought a
different report, but when men talk loudly and ill of the King, and knit
their brows, and wish for a south wind, it needs not the wisdom of a
warlock to fathom their meaning. Moreover," he continued earnestly, "I
have heard that news has come from the southland that the people of
Hordaland and Rogaland, Agder and Thelemark, are gathering, and bringing
together ships, men, and arms--what can all this mean if it be not
resistance to the King?"
"Right," said Harald thoughtfully. "Now, Hake, I will tell thee what to
do, and see thou waste not time about it. Most of my ships are ready
for sea. A few days more will suffice to complete them for a cruise,
and then will I sail forth to teach these proud men humility. Meanwhile
do thou get ready the ships under thy charge, and send Hauskuld in a
swift boat with a few chosen men south to Horlingdal fiord. There let
him watch the proceedings of the people--particularly of that fellow
Erling and his kin--and when he has seen enough let him sail north to
give me warning of their movements. They shall be saved the trouble of
coming here to meet me, for I will fare south and slay them all, root
and branch. Let thy tongue be quiet and thy motions swift, and caution
Hauskuld also to be discreet. Another draught of ale, Hake, and then--
to thy duty."
These last words the King spoke aloud, and while the berserk was
drinking he turned to converse with Hakon of Drontheim, but finding that
that chief had left the board, he turned to one of the courtiers, and
began to converse on the news recently brought from the south.
Gunhild meanwhile slipped out of the hall, and found King Hakon hasting
to his house.
"Ye heard what the King threatened?" she said, plucking him by the
sleeve.
"I did, and will--but why dost thou speak to me on this subject?" asked
Hakon warily.
"Because I know your daughter Ada is among the doomed and ye would not
see her perish. My heart is in the house of Haldor the Fierce. Great
kindness have I received there, therefore would I go and warn them of
what is coming. I have friends here, and can get a swift cutter to bear
me south. Shall I tell them to expect aid from you?"
Hakon was glad to hear this, and told her to inform Haldor that he would
soon be in the fiord with his longship, that he would aid the people of
Horlingdal in resisting Harald, and that it was probable Rolf Ganger
would also join them.
Bearing these tidings Gunhild left Drontheim secretly, and in a swift
boat with a stout crew set off for the south a considerable time before
Hauskuld sailed, although that worthy did his best to carry out his
master's commands without delay. King Hakon also pushed forward his
preparations, and that so briskly that he too was enabled to start
before the berserk.
Meanwhile King Harald gave himself up entirely to festivity--laughed and
talked with his courtiers, and seemed so light of heart that the greater
part of his followers thought him to be a careless, hearty man, on whom
the weighty matters of the kingdom sat very lightly. But Jarl Rongvold
knew that this free-and-easy spirit was affected, and that the King's
mind was much troubled by the state of things in several parts of the
kingdom. He also knew, however, that Harald had an iron will, which
nothing could bend from its purpose, and he felt convinced that the
course which his sovereign pursued would end either in his total
overthrow, or in the absolute subjection of Norway.
It happened that at this time one of the festivals of sacrifice was
being celebrated by the people of the Drontheim country. It was an old
custom that, when there was sacrifice, all the bonders should come to
the spot where the heathen temple stood, and bring with them all that
they required while the festival of the sacrifice lasted. The men were
expected to bring ale with them, and all kinds of cattle as well as
horses, which were to be slaughtered, boiled, and eaten.
In order to conciliate the people, the King on this occasion issued a
proclamation that he meant to pay all the expenses of the festival.
This had the double effect of attracting to the locality a vast
concourse of people, and of putting them all in great good humour, so
that they were quite ready to listen to, and fall in with, the plans of
the King, whatever these might be. Of course there were many freeborn
noble-spirited udallers who could not thus be tickled into the selling
of their birthright; but Harald's tremendous energy and power, coupled
with his rigorous treatment of all who resisted him, had the effect of
reducing many of these to sullen silence, while some made a virtue of
necessity, and accepted the fate which they thought it impossible to
evade.
On the evening of the day of which we write, the fire was kindled in the
middle of the floor of the temple, and over it hung the kettles. Full
goblets were handed across the fire, and the King blessed the full
goblets and all the meat of the sacrifice. Then, first, Odin's goblet
was emptied for victory and power to the King; thereafter Niord's and
Freya's goblets for peace and a good season. After that there was much
feasting; and when the ale began to mount to the brains of the
revellers, many of them stood up, and raising aloft the "braga goblet"--
that over which vows were wont to be made--began, in more or less
bombastic strains, to boast of what they meant to do in the future.
Having exhausted all other sentiments, the guests then emptied the
"remembrance goblet" to the memory of departed friends.
Soon the desire for song and story began to be felt, and there was a
loud call for the scald. Whereupon, clearing his throat and glancing
round on the audience with a deprecatory air--just as amateur scalds of
the present day are wont to do--Thiodolph hinn Frode of Huina stood up
to sing. His voice was mellow, and his music wild. The subject chosen
showed that he understood how to humour both King and people, and if the
song was short it was much to the point.
Song of the Scald.
Of cup and platter need has none,
The guest who seeks the generous one--
Harald the bounteous--who can trace
His lineage from the giant race;
For Harald's hand is liberal, free.
The guardian of the temple he.
He loves the gods, his open hand
Scatters his sword's gains o'er the land.
The scald sat down with the prompt energy of a man who believes he has
said a good thing, and expects that it will be well received. He was
not disappointed, for the rafters rang with the wild huzzas of the
revellers as they leaped to their feet and shouted "Victory to the
King!"
This was just what the King wanted, and he carefully fanned the flame
which the scald had so judiciously kindled. The result was that when he
afterwards called for men to go forth with him to do battle with the
turbulent spirits of Horlingdal, hundreds of those who would otherwise
have been malcontent, or lukewarm followers, busked themselves eagerly
for the fight, and flocked to his standard. His longships were crowded
with picked men, and war vessels of all sizes--from little boats to
dragons with thirty banks of rowers--augmented his fleet. At length he
sailed from Drontheim with perhaps the strongest armament that had ever
swept over the northern sea.