On the morrow, when Olaf awoke, he told nothing of this that he had
heard concerning his kinship with Sigurd Erikson, and if Thorgils saw
that he was very moody and quiet, he no doubt thought that the lad was
but sorrowing at being taken away from the sea that he loved so much.
And yet Olaf seemed strangely unwilling to favour any plan of escape.
Both Thorgils and Egbert were for ever speaking of flight, but Olaf
always had some wise reason to offer for yet further delay, and would
only shake his head and say that their plans were ill formed. On the
second evening of the journey into the south, a halt was made upon the
shores of a great inland lake. Thorgils declared that it was a part of
the sea, and he urged his two companions to steal away with him under
the cover of night so that they might find some fisher's boat and make
off with it. But Olaf quickly pointed out that there were no boats to
be seen, and that, as the horses and dogs were drinking of the water,
it could not be salt like the waters of the great sea. Every day during
the long and weary journey Thorgils brought up some new plan. But Olaf
was obstinate. So at last the two elder boys, seeing that he was bent
upon remaining in bondage, yielded to his stronger will, and agreed to
wait in patience and to go with him wheresoever their master had a mind
to take them.
The country into which they were taken was in old times called
Gardarike. It lay to the southeast of Esthonia, and it was a part of
what is now known as the Russian Empire. Many Norsemen lived in that
land, and King Valdemar was himself the son of the great Swedish
viking, Rurik, who had made conquests and settlements in the countries
east of the Baltic Sea. Valdemar held his court at Holmgard--the modern
Novgorod. He was a very wise and powerful ruler, and his subjects were
prosperous and peaceable, having many useful arts, and carrying on a
commerce with the great city of Mikligard. The people were still
heathen, worshipping Odin and Thor and the minor gods of the
Scandinavians; for the faith of Christendom was as yet but vaguely
known to them and little understood.
Sigurd Erikson, who was Valdemar's high steward, lived in the king's
palace in great dignity and had many servants. So when he returned with
all the treasure that he had gathered as tribute he took Olaf
Triggvison into his service. But Thorgils and Egbert were still held as
bond slaves and put to hard labour in the king's stables.
The steward was very good to Olaf, and soon grew to love him as his own
son, guarding him from all harm, speaking with him whenever chance
brought them together, yet never betraying by word or act that the boy
was other than a mere thrall, whom he had bought with other chattels
during his journey through the king's dominions. Neither did Olaf
whisper, even to his foster brother, any word of his close kinship with
their new master. Thorgils, who had not forgotten the name of Queen
Astrid's brother, might indeed have discovered Olaf's secret. But it so
chanced that the king's steward was spoken of only by his title as the
Hersir Sigurd, and not as the son of Erik of Ofrestead.
For many months Olaf fulfilled his little duties very meekly, and no
one paid great heed to him, for he still bore the traces of his rough
work. Sigurd was well satisfied that his secret was safe, and that
Valdemar would never discover that his steward was breaking the law.
But soon the lad's fair hair grew long and bright, his hands lost their
roughness, and his growing beauty of face and limb attracted many eyes.
Then Sigurd began to fear, for he knew the penalty he would be forced
to pay if it should be discovered that he had wittingly brought a king
born youth into the land.
This danger grew greater when it chanced that the Queen Allogia took
notice of young Olaf, for the queen was in some sort a spae woman; she
was skilled in foretelling the future, and she quickly perceived that
the boy's beauty had come to him from some noble ancestor. It seemed
that she was bent upon knowing his history, for she besought many
persons about the court to tell her whence he had come, and to discover
for her the names of his parents. But none could tell.
Now, Allogia was still but two and twenty years of age, and very fair,
and the king did not like that she should be seen holding speech with
his handsome steward, for fear that Sigurd should win her heart. But
one day in the early winter time the queen came upon Sigurd in the
great hall, where he was alone with Olaf, teaching the boy to read the
runes carved in the black oak behind the king's high seat.
Olaf stood back as she entered, but his eyes rested fearlessly upon
her. She wore a blue woven mantle ornamented with lace, and under it a
scarlet kirtle with a silver belt. There was a band of gold round her
head, and her fine brown hair reached down to her waist on both sides.
She approached the steward, and said as he turned to withdraw from the
hall:
"I pray you, go on with your lesson, hersir."
"Your pardon, lady," said Sigurd, "I was but teaching the lad the rune
of King Rurik, and it is of no account that I should continue."
"Not often have I heard of a mere slave boy learning runes," returned
Allogia; "such knowledge is only meant for those who are of high
estate." She paused and looked round at Olaf, who stood apart with his
hand caressing the head of a great dog that had risen from before the
fire. "And yet," added the queen thoughtfully, "I would say that this
boy Ole, as you call him, has no serf's blood in him. His fairness is
that of a kingly race. What is his parentage, Hersir Sigurd? You who
have shown him so much favour, who have dressed him in such fine
clothes, and who even go so far as to teach him the reading of runes,
surely know him to be of noble birth. Who is he, I say?"
This question, coming so directly and from the queen herself, whom he
dared not disobey, brought the guilty blood to Sigurd's brow. But
Allogia did not observe his confusion. Her large dark eyes were gazing
full upon Olaf, as though in admiration of the boy's silky gold hair
and firm, well knit figure.
"I bought the lad in North Esthonia," Sigurd answered after a moment's
pause. "I bought him from a bonder in Rathsdale, and the price I paid
for him was two silver marks. It may be that he is some viking's son, I
cannot tell. He is quick witted and very clever at all games, and that
is why it pleases me to teach him many things."
There was a look of doubt in Allogia's eyes, as though she knew that
the steward was telling her but a half truth. He saw her doubt and made
a sign to Olaf to draw nearer. The boy obeyed, and stood before the
queen with bowed head.
"Of what parentage are you, boy?" demanded Sigurd. "Who is your mother,
and what is her condition of life?"
Olaf answered promptly, as he looked calmly into his master's face:
"My mother is a poor bondswoman, hersir," he said. "The vikings brought
her into Esthonia from west over sea. I have not had tidings of her
since I was a little child."
The queen smiled at him pityingly.
"And what of your father?" she asked.
Olaf shook his head, and looked vacantly at the queen's beautiful hands
with their many gold rings.
"I never knew my father, lady," he replied, "for he was dead before I
came into the world."
"But do you not know his name?" pursued Allogia. Now Olaf feared to
tell a deliberate lie, and yet, for his uncle's sake, he dared not
answer with the truth. He stammered for an instant, and then, feeling
the dog's head against his hand, he caught the animal's ear between his
fingers and gave it a hard, firm pinch. The dog howled with the sudden
pain and sprang forward angrily. And the queen, startled and alarmed,
moved aside and presently walked majestically from the hall.
Not again for many weeks did Allogia seek an answer to her question.
Sigurd, still fearing that his secret might be revealed, kept the boy
away from the court so that he might not be seen. But for all his care
the danger was for ever recurring.
King Valdemar had a mother named Gerda, who was so old and infirm that
she always lay abed. She was wonderfully skilled in spaedom, and it was
always the custom at yuletide, when the guests assembled in the king's
hall, that his mother was borne in thither and placed in the high seat.
There she prophesied touching any danger overhanging the country, or
similar thing, according to the questions put to her.
Now it happened in the first winter of Olaf's being in Holmgard, that
at the yule feast, when Gerda had been borne in after this fashion,
Valdemar asked her whether any foreign prince or warrior would enter
his dominions or turn his arms against his kingdom during the following
year.
The old mother ran her bent fingers through the thin locks of her white
hair, and gazing with dim eyes into the vast hall, thus spoke her
prophecy:
"No token of any disastrous war do I discern," she said, "nor any other
misfortune. But one wondrous event I see. In the land of Norway there
has lately been born a child who will be bred up here, in Holmgard,
until he grows to be a famous prince; one so highly gifted that there
has never before been seen his equal. He will do no harm to this
kingdom; but he will in every way increase thy fame. He will return to
his native land while yet he is in the flower of his age, and he will
reign with great glory in this northern part of the world. But not for
long, not for long. Now, carry me away."
While these words were being spoken, Queen Allogia's eyes rested upon
Olaf Triggvison, who was acting as cup bearer to his uncle Sigurd. She
saw the drinking horn tremble in his hand, so that the wine it held
dripped over the silver rim, and fell upon the front of his white
kirtle; and she divined that it was to him that the prophecy referred.
But no sign of this suspicion did she betray, either at that time or in
the after days. Yet none the less she watched him always, with her mind
fixed upon the thought of his nobility, and the glory that had been
promised him. In all that he did she was well pleased, for already she
had found that he excelled all others of his age, not only in personal
beauty but in skilful handling of all warlike weapons, in the training
of dogs and horses, in wrestling and riding, in racing on snowshoes,
and in all other exercises. Often she would have spoken with him, but,
saving at the time of a great feast, he was never to be seen in the
hall.
Throughout the long, cold winter months, Olaf saw nothing of his foster
brother or of Egbert the Briton, for they had both been taken across
the river to labour on one of the king's farmsteads. There they
remained until the early summer, when they brought over their flocks
and herds for the sheep meeting. At that time there was held a great
fair in Holmgard, with sports and games and manly contests. Many
parties of men came into the town from distant parts of the kingdom.
On the second morning of the fair, Sigurd Erikson entered the room in
which Olaf slept. The boy was dressing himself in his fine clothes, and
girding on his leather belt with its small war axe, which Sigurd had
had made for his young kinsman.
"My boy," said Sigurd, "there is little need for you to dress yourself
in this holiday attire, for it is my will that you do not attend the
games. You must not show yourself amid the crowd."
Now, Olaf had engaged to take part in a great wrestling bout with three
young champions from Livonia. Also, he was to have run in a footrace,
for which the prize was a silver hilted sword, awarded by the queen. So
at hearing his uncle thus forbid him to appear, he became very
indignant.
"It is too late for you to try to keep me within doors," he protested.
"I have given my word to the wrestlers, and I cannot now withdraw. Do
you wish me to be jeered at as a coward? Why do you deny me the honour
of taking all the prizes that I may so easily win?"
"It is for your own happiness that I forbid you to show yourself before
strangers," returned Sigurd. "But, more than all, I wish you to keep in
hiding for this great reason. There has come into Holmgard a man whom I
met many months ago. I engaged with him to pit my best horse against
his in the horse ring, and the prize was to be--"
"What was the prize?" asked Olaf, seeing that his uncle had paused.
"The prize was to be yourself, my son," said Sigurd gravely. "The man
coveted you, and would have bought you from your old master Reas."
"And why did you agree to this, knowing that I am your own kinsman and
your sister's son?" asked Olaf.
"I did not then know that you were of my kin," answered Sigurd. "But
having given my word, I cannot go back from it. I have seen this man's
horse, and I judge it to be a finer animal than mine. Therefore do I
fear that I must lose you. But if you will keep within the house, I
will tell the man that you are dead, and will offer him the young
Englander Egbert in your stead."
"Would you then tell the man a falsehood?" cried Olaf.
"Gladly, if by doing so I still keep you with me, for I would not lose
you for all the world."
Olaf, obedient to his uncle's word, began to unbuckle his belt. But his
face was very gloomy, and it was easy to see that it was only out of
his love for his uncle that he would by any means agree to forego his
pleasures. Olaf was already very proud of his own skill. Never yet had
he been beaten in any contest, and he had hoped to add to his glory by
overcoming all who might come against him on this great day. Moreover,
it was a sorry sacrifice for him to make if he was not to be allowed to
witness the games.
As Sigurd turned to leave him, the boy suddenly caught his arm.
"I will not promise!" he cried. "I cannot give you my word. I have set
my heart upon the wrestling, and in spite of your forbiddance I shall
go. Tell me what manner of man this is that you speak of, and I will
avoid him. Even though he overcome you in the horse fight he shall not
take me from you."
"He is a great viking," answered Sigurd. "Men name him Klerkon
Flatface. It is the same who sold you into bondage."
A cloud came upon Olaf's brow, and he sat down upon the side of the
trestle bed.
"Klerkon Flatface?" he repeated slowly. Then raising his eyes he looked
into his uncle's face and added: "Do not fear, hersir. Klerkon shall
not take me from you."
Now, very soon after Sigurd had gone out to attend upon the king, Olaf
quitted the house and went by secret ways to the stables, where he
found his foster brother at work combing out the mane of Sigurd's
fighting steed. A very tall and powerful animal it was, with a glossy
brown coat and a long tail that reached nearly to the ground. It was
well trained, and many a well won fight had it fought. Sleipner was its
name, and it was so called after the eight footed horse of Odin.
Olaf went to Thorgils' side and greeted him with friendly words. Then,
when they had spoken for a while together, Olaf bent his head close to
Thorgils' ear, and said he:
"I have news, brother."
"Ill news or good?" asked Thorgils.
"Judge for yourself," answered Olaf. "It is that our old enemy Klerkon
the Viking has come into Holmgard, with many men and a mighty horse
that is to be pitted against Sleipner."
Thorgils drew back with a sudden start.
"Then has our good time come," he cried. "Our vow of vengeance must be
fulfilled. No longer are we little boys, weak of arm and failing in
courage. Never again shall Klerkon sail the seas."
"And who will hinder him?" asked Olaf, looking the while into the
other's brightened eyes.
"He shall be hindered by me," returned Thorgils. "With me alone must
the vengeance rest, for it is not well that you, who stand so high in
honour with the king and his court, should sully your white hands with
blood. It was my father whom Klerkon slew that day upon the ship, and
it is my part to avenge him."
Then Olaf shook his head.
"Not so shall it be," said he. "Thoralf was my own good foster father,
and I am not afraid to face the man who sent him so cruelly to his
death. I and not you shall bring the murderer to his bane."
"Rash that you always are!" cried Thorgils. "Will you never learn to be
cautious? Keep your peace. If I should fail, then will it be your turn
to avenge my death as our vow of foster brotherhood demands. Now bring
me a good weapon, for I have none but an oak cudgel."
"You shall not want for a good weapon," said Olaf, and he drew a small
sword from under his blue cloak and handed it to Thorgils. "Here is my
new handsax. Take it, and use it to good purpose. But in the matter of
Klerkon, it may be that I shall be before you. Odin be with you!"