We were sailing with the easterly wind on our beam, and making
maybe six knots on it, with the two reefs down. The full crew of
such a ship as this for such a cruise without any warlike ending to
it would be about twenty, or perhaps a few less. She pulled sixteen
oars a side, and with a war crew on board would muster ninety-six
men--three to an oar--with a few extra hands, as the helmsman and
the chiefs, to make a total of a hundred. Her decks would be
crowded, of course, but she would be down to her bearings, being
built for war cruises, and in a breeze all her men would be sitting
up to windward as shifting ballast, so to speak. It is not likely,
therefore, that we could have done much better had we managed to
shake out the reefs, seeing that the ship was light. Her pebble
ballast had been taken out when she was drawn up for the last time
on shore, and in the hurry it had been needless to replace it.
So the two pirate longships overhauled us fast, and presently their
low, black hulls were plain to us. It was time we did somewhat if
we were not to be taken without an effort to escape.
"See here," said Bertric suddenly, "I know somewhat too well how
those ships can sail; but I think that this ship would beat them in
a reach to windward. That, of course, would run us in toward the
Norway shore, and I have ever heard that it is as dangerous as any.
I do not know it, but the Lady Gerda may do so. If the worst came
to the worst, it is in my mind that we might take to the boat and
let the ship go her own way, if she is beyond our handling when we
make the shore."
"If we can sight land, it is possible that we may be sighted also,"
said I. "It seems our only chance. I will call Gerda."
Bertric nodded, and I went forward and called her accordingly,
rousing Dalfin, who slumbered in the sun under the lee of the boats
amidships, as I passed him.
Gerda came quickly from her awning as she heard me, and saw the two
ships at once. They were then some eight miles astern of us, and
she looked at me with an unspoken question.
"They are Heidrek's ships," I said. "We have to try one last chance
of outsailing them."
"Anything rather than that we should fall into such hands," she
said at once.
Now Bertric told her what seemed to be our one plan, and she
answered that she was well content to be guided by us. Neither she
nor we knew rightly where we were, nor how far it might be to the
coast. But she did know that everywhere that shore was belted by
rocky islands, and sea-washed skerries.
"You may be able to steer into safety between them," she said. "You
may split the ship on some half-sunk rock not far from the land,
and so we ourselves may be saved in the boat. I think that is the
best--for so may come a sea grave for my grandfather--and no
enemy's hand shall touch him or his."
Then said Bertric, with set teeth, "If we may not outsail Heidrek,
it will be my part to sink one of his ships with our own, if it may
be done."
"Aye," she said. "Do so."
Therein I was altogether with them, and Dalfin smiled a strange
smile in assent.
"You would steer this ship against the other?" he asked. "Then I
suppose that over the bows here might go on board that other a man
with an axe, and smite one blow or two before he is ended. It will
be well enough if so."
"You shall have your chance," said I. "Maybe I will help."
Now we said no more. Bertric luffed, and we flattened in the sheet,
Gerda hauling with us, laughing, and saying that it was not for the
first time. Then Bertric's face cleared, for the ship went to
windward like a swallow, her length helping her in spite of her
lightness. We had to cut adrift our boat at this time, as she would
hinder us. We had no more need of her.
Heidrek altered his course at once, sailing a point or two more
free than we, either, as Bertric thought, because he could lie no
closer to the wind, or else meaning to edge down on us. And, he
being so far to windward, for a time it seemed as if he neared us
fast.
In two hours we knew that we outsailed him, close hauled. Little by
little we gained to windward, until he was three miles astern of us
and losing still more rapidly, as he went to leeward. He could not
look up to the wind any closer. One of his ships, indeed, was
astern and to leeward of the other, so that if that one only had
had to be counted with, we were safe.
Then he took to his oars, and Bertric and I knew that the worst was
yet to come, as we saw the sun flash from the long row of rising
and falling blades across the miles of sea.
"Some of them will be mighty tired yet before they overhaul us," I
said. "A stern chase is a long chase."
Now I began to look restlessly for some sign of the high land of
the Norway shore, but there was naught to be seen. Only to eastward
the sky was dull and grayish, as it were with the loss of light in
the sky over hill and forest. And Heidrek was gaining on us
steadily if very slowly. We were very silent at this time.
Presently Gerda broke the silence.
"Friend Bertric," she said in a still voice, "how long have we?"
He glanced back at the ships, and answered her, after a moment's
thought.
"Two hours--or maybe three, if the men who row tire--that is if the
wind holds. If it freshens, we may beat them yet."
"I hear that you doubt that last," she said. "Now, is it still in
your minds to die rather than fall into the hands of yon men?"
"Lady," said I, "we three would have no care for ourselves. We have
to think of you."
"I will die, sooner," she answered, with set lips.
"Then," said Bertric simply, "it shall be as I have said. We will
ram the pirate ship and sink with her."
Then Gerda rose up and looked at the three of us, and her face grew
bright.
"Now I have one thing to ask you," she said, "and that is to let me
arm you once more. It is not fitting that you three should fall and
pass to Asgard all unlike warriors--in that thrall-like gear.
"Come with me, Malcolm, and bring what I shall find for you."
I followed her until she stayed at the entrance to the penthouse,
and I half feared that she would bid me open and enter it. In
truth, we had almost forgotten what lay there, but now I could not
but remember, and the old dread came back to me. But she did not do
so. She pointed to one of the great chests which had been stowed
between the boats, and bade me open it. I had to tug at it to bring
it forward, for it was heavy, and then threw the lid back.
It was full of mail, and with the close-knit ring shirts were
helms, and some few short, heavy swords.
"War spoils of the old days before Harald Fairhair," she said.
"When my grandfather had many foes, and knew how to guard himself.
All these would have been rent and spoiled before they were laid in
the ship mound--but at the last there was not time--thus."
Now she called to Dalfin, and he came eagerly, with a cry of
delight on seeing the war gear.
"Lift them, and choose what you will for yourselves and Bertric,"
she said. "It will be strange if, among all, you do not find what
will suit you."
Now there was no difficulty in finding suits of the best for the
other two. There were seven in all in the chest, and we set two
aside. Dalfin was tall and slight, and very active, and Bertric was
square and sturdy, and maybe half a head shorter than either of us.
But after the way of my forebears, both Norse and Scottish, I was
somewhat bigger than most men whom I have met, though not so much
in height as in breadth of shoulder. Maybe, however, I was taller
than Dalfin, for I think he was not over six feet.
So it happened that as Dalfin, in all light-heartedness, as if no
enemy was nearer than Ireland, took up suit after suit of the
bright ring mail and stretched them across my shoulders, trying to
fit me, not one of these would do by any means. Gerda stood by us,
watching quietly.
"It does not matter," I said at last. "Let me have a weapon, and I
shall not be the first of us who has fallen unmailed."
"No," said Gerda, "it is my fancy that my champions shall be well
armed. Open the small chest yonder."
I did so, and in that lay a most beautiful byrnie and helm, if
anything better than those we had been choosing from. It was the
only suit here, and Gerda looked wistfully at it.
"Take that one, Malcolm," she said. "It will fit you. It was one of
my father's--and I had a fancy that Thorwald would take it to him
in Asgard, for he lies on the Swedish shore, and it might not be
laid in the mound with him. Now you shall bear it to him, and he
will greet you."
"I am not worthy to wear it," I stammered. "It is too sacred to
you."
"No," she answered. "I ask you to do so, and I think you will not
refuse."
Now I saw in the face of Dalfin that he thought it right that I
should take the mail, and so I did. We went with the three suits
and the helms back to Bertric, and so put them on, Gerda helping
us, and I taking the tiller when it was Bertric's turn. Even in
this little while one could see that Heidrek's leading ship had
gained on us.
It was more than good to be in the mail of a free man and warrior
once more. Dalfin shook himself, as a man will to settle his byrnie
into place, and his eyes shone, and he leapt on the deck, crying:
"Now am I once more a prince of Maghera, and can look a foe--aye,
and death, in the face joyfully. My thanks, dear lady, for this
honour!"
Then he broke into a wild song in his own tongue, and paced the
deck as if eager for the coming of Heidrek, and the promised crash
of the meeting ships. And as suddenly he stopped, and looked at his
hands.
"Faith," he said, "I thought the song went amiss. It is the song of
the swinging swords--and never a sword have I--nor either of us."
Gerda laughed at him. It seemed that the pleasure of her champions,
as she called us, in the war gear pleased her.
"Swords you shall have," she said at once. "I did but wait."
"For what, lady?" asked Dalfin.
She smiled and reddened somewhat, looking down on the deck.
"One can hardly be mistaken as to whether a man is used to war
gear," she said. "Now I see you three--prince, jarl, and thane--as
I might have known you to be at first. Forgive me for the little
doubt."
Seeing what sort of scarecrows we must have been, we did not wonder
at all that she had doubted. And, after all, not every day are
three men of rank of different lands to be found adrift in an open
boat, simply as it had come about in our case.
"It would have been a wonder if you had not doubted," said Bertric.
"We have naught to forgive, and, indeed, have held ourselves
honoured that you took our words as you did. In all truth, I do
feel myself again in mail, and so must Malcolm."
I did, and said so. There are thoughts knit up in the steel
ringwork which are good for a man.
"The swords are in yon chamber," Gerda said quickly, not being very
willing, mayhap, to speak more in this wise. "I will ask Malcolm,
for he is a Norseman, to come and choose them."
That was the last thing I wished, but would not say so. Without a
word I went forward with her to the penthouse, and took down the
three loose timbers again. The dim chamber seemed very still, and
across its dimness the shafts of sunlight--which came through the
chinks in the rough timbering of walls and roofs--shifted and
glanced as if alive, as the ship swayed. One golden ray lit on the
still face of the old king, and it was almost as if he smiled as we
stood in the doorway. Gerda saw it, and spoke softly, stepping to
the side of the bier.
"It shall please you to arm these warriors who will seek Valhalla
with you, my grandfather. You were wont to arm the friends who
would be ready to fall at your side."
A wave lifted the ship and swung her, and the shaft of light swayed
across the chamber, sparkling on the arms which hung from the
timbers. It lit up the hilt of a gold-runed sword for a moment, and
then was gone.
"That is for you, Malcolm the Jarl," Gerda said. "Take it. Then
choose for the others."
Then I unhelmed and stooped and went into the chamber, and took
down the sword which the sunbeam had shown me. It hung from its own
baldric with an axe and a round shield. Gerda bade me take the
shield also, and I did so. Now I could see well enough to choose
for the others, for the dimness was but the change from the
sunshine outside on deck. I took a lighter weapon for Dalfin, and a
heavy, short sword for Bertric, and with them shields. No long
choice was needed, for not one of the weapons but was of the best.
So I turned, and came forth from the chamber, and gave the weapons
to Gerda, while I closed it once more. I think she bade the king
farewell at that time.
"You have my father's sword also," she said to me softly. "I think
that if you have but a little time to wear these things which he
loved, you will not dishonour them."
She gave me no time to say more, and I do not know what I could
have answered, save that I hoped that I might be worthy. Little
chance of much fighting were we likely to have--and yet there was
just a hope that we might fall in a ring of foes on the deck of the
pirate.
Gerda buckled on those weapons for us. And then Dalfin must end his
song, and it was good to see and hear him, if only he and myself
understood the words. But Heidrek crept up to us all the time, if
we forgot him for the moment under the spell of the wild song.
The clear voice ceased, for the song was ended. A dimness crept
across the decks, and the sail shivered and filled again. Bertric
looked up at the sky and out to windward, and his face changed.
"What is it?" asked Gerda anxiously.
"Running into a fog bank," he said. "Look ahead."
One could not see it. Only it was as if the ring of sea to windward
had of a sudden grown smaller. Heidrek was not a mile astern of us,
and still his ships were in bright sunshine. Even as we watched
them, a grayness fell on them, and then they grew dim.
Then the fog closed in on us, and swallowed us up, and drifted
across the decks so thickly that we could barely see from gunwale
to gunwale, damp, and chilling. Still, the wind did not fail us,
hurrying the fog before it.
"We must hold on until we know if this is but a bank of fog, or if
it is everywhere," Bertric said. "What say you, Malcolm?"
I thought a while, knowing the cold sea fogs of the north pretty
well.
"Heidrek will be in it by this time," I said. "Fog bank or more, I
would about ship and run back past him with the wind. If it is a
bank, we shall go with it, and he must lose us. If it is more, we
can get on our southward course in it shortly, and if he sights us
again, he will have all his work to catch us, for his men will be
tired of rowing."
"What if the fog lifts directly?"
"We shall be little worse off than now--and we shall be heading
down on Heidrek before he knows it."
"Aye," he answered, "with way enough on us to sink him offhand, and
maybe take this ship clear through his. Get to the sheets, you and
Dalfin, and we will chance it."
Bertric luffed, and we hauled the tack amidships. Then he paid off
to the wind, and we slacked off the sheet with the help of a turn
of its fall round the great cleat of the backstay. The wash of the
waves round the bows ceased, and there was only the little hiss of
the water as the sea broke alongside of us. It always seems very
silent for a little while when one puts about for a run after
beating to windward.
"Listen," said Bertric under his breath, "we shall hear Heidrek
directly on the starboard bow somewhere. Pray Heaven he has not
changed his course, or we shall hit him! He will not have luffed
any more, for certain."
"Suppose he thinks that we have tried some such trick as this?"
said Dalfin.
Bertric shook his head.
"He thinks we shall go on as we steered, making for the Norway
shore. It is likely that he will think that we may have paid off a
bit, for the sake of speed. Even if he did think we were likely to
do this, what could he do? He cannot tell, and to put about and run
on the chance would be to give away his advantage if we had held on
after all. Listen!"
"I hear him," said Gerda, who was leaning on the gunwale with
parted lips, intent on catching any sound.
The sound she had heard came nearer and nearer as we slid silently
through the water into the blinding fog. It was like a dull rumble
at first, and then as a trampling, until the roll and click of the
long, steadily pulled oars was plain to us. The ship was passing
us, and not more than an arrow flight from us. It seemed almost
impossible that we should not see her.
Suddenly, there came a sharp whistle, and the roll of the oars
ceased. Gerda started away from the gunwale and looked at us, and
Dalfin set his hand on his sword hilt. It was just as if they had
spied us, and I half expected to see the tall stemhead of the ship
come towering through the thickness over our rail. There was
nothing to tell us how fast we were going through the water, and we
seemed still. I saw Bertric smiling.
"Shift of rowers," he said in a whisper, and Gerda's pale face
brightened. Then I heard Heidrek rating someone, and I heard, too,
the tramp and rattle of the men who left and came to the oars; but
by the time the steady pull began again we had passed the ship by a
long way, and lost the sound almost as soon as it came. Then there
was silence once more, and the strain was past. Our course would
take us clear of the other ship by a mile or more.
So we held on for half an hour, and the fog grew no thinner.
Overhead, the sun tried to shine through it, but we could not see
him, and still the wind drifted us and the fog together, and the
decks grew wet and the air chill with the damp which clung round
us.
Gerda sat very still for a long time after the last sounds were
heard. But at last she rose up and shivered.
"Let me go to my awning," she said unsteadily. "I have seen three
brave men look death in the face, and they have not flinched--I
will never wear mail or sword again."
Then she fled forward, and something held us back from so much as
helping her to cross that barrier. We knew that she was near to
breaking down, and no wonder.
There fell an uneasy silence on us when she was within the shelter
of the awning and its folds closed after her. Dalfin broke it at
last.
"Well," he said, "I suppose that you two seamen know which way you
are steering in the fog--but it passes me to know how."
Bertric and I laughed, and were glad of the excuse to do so. We
told him that we steered by the wind, which had not changed. But
now we had only one course before us. We must needs head south and
try to make the Shetlands. Eastward we might not sail for fear of
Heidrek, and westward lay the open ocean, Still, we held on for
half an hour, and then, still shrouded in the white folds of the
fog, headed south as nearly as we might judge.
In an hour the wind fell. The fog darkened round us as the sun wore
to the westward, and the sea went down until only the long ocean
swell was left, lifting the ship easily and slowly without breaking
round her. There was naught to be done; but, at least Heidrek could
not find us.
"There may be days to come like this," Bertric said, with a sort of
groan. "What is to be planned for him who lies yonder?"
Now, I told them what Gerda had said to me, and I could see that
Bertric was relieved to hear her thought of a sea burial.
"I had thought of the same," he said at once. "It is not fitting
that here the old warrior should be drifted to and fro, well nigh
at the mercy of the wind, with the chances of a lee shore or of
folk who make prey of hapless seafarers presently. A sea burial
such as many a good man of our kin has found will be best. I could
ask no more for myself."
"And what of the treasure?" I asked. "Shall that go with him?"
"It is Gerda's, and she must say," he answered. "Yet she will need
it."
Then Dalfin said:
"It will be hard to tell her so, but she must not part with it. It
stands between her and want, if it may be saved for her. Yet, if it
was the will of the old king that it should be set in his grave, I
do not know how we can persuade her to keep it. He is not here to
say that he does not need it; for he has learnt that now."
I glanced at the penthouse with the thought of that strange vision
of mine. I could not tell my comrades of it, but I thought that, if
need was, I might tell Gerda presently. I said in answer to Dalfin
that he was right, and that we must set the matter thus before
Gerda.
"The sooner the better," said Bertric. "Do you go and speak with
her. We must not let the night pass without this being done, as I
think"