Mayhap I need not say that I forgot the message which took me to
this place, seeing that it was of no great account. Gerda and I had
much to say to one another of matters which would be of note to
none but ourselves, and the time fled unheeded by us.
Whereby it came to pass that presently came footsteps through the
woods, and here were Hakon and Bertric smiling at us, and Gerda was
blushing, though she would not leave my side. Bertric laughed
lightly when he met us.
"Hakon," he said, "I told you that there would be no trouble in
this matter. Now, Lady Gerda, and you, comrade, I am going to be
the first to wish you all happiness. And I will say that thus our
voyage ends even as it ought."
"It is not ended yet," said Hakon. "Still it remains for Malcolm to
win her home back for his bride that shall be, though that may be
easy."
Then he, too, spoke words of kindness to us both, and they were
good to hear; until at last he would tell us news which had come
from Thrandheim for himself, and that also was of the best.
The land had risen for him at the first sound of his name. Eric was
far away to the south and east, in the Wick, fighting with men who
would not bow to him, and all went well. The ships would go up to
the ancient town on the morning's tide.
"But now," he said, "I have no one to send with Gerda, for Thoralf
will take his wife and daughter with us. Will she wait here for the
winter, or will she sail, as once before, with you two to serve and
guard her?"
"Let us sail at once, King Hakon," she said, laughing. "It would be
impossible for me to wish for better care than that I have learned
to value most of all."
"Nay, but you shall be better attended at this time," Hakon said,
smiling.
And so in the end we learned that the matter had already been
arranged in all haste, for they had found two maidens to attend
Gerda, and the rough after cabin of the ship had been made somewhat
more fitting for her by the time we sailed in the morning.
Now we took Gerda back to Thoralf's wife, and thence I fled with
Bertric to the ship, there being more to say than I cared to listen
to. Dalfin sat on the deck, and he rose up sadly to greet us, with
a half groan.
"Good luck to you," he said, gripping my hand. "I have heard the
news. On my word, it was as well that we had no chance to get to my
father's court, or I should have been your rival, and there would
have been a fight. I will not say that it might not be a relief to
break the head of someone even now--but that may pass. The luck of
the torque has left me."
"Come with us after all," I said. "No doubt Arnkel will be willing
to give you just that chance."
But he shook his head. "No, I bide with Hakon. But there is Asbiorn
yonder who will see to Arnkel. And I am sorry for Arnkel if they
meet."
Now, whether it was true that Dalfin had his own thoughts
concerning the companion of our dangers I cannot say; but he bided
with Hakon, and thereafter won honour enough from him, and, indeed,
from all with whom he had to do. Princelike, and in all ways a good
comrade, was Dalfin.
So it came to pass that very early in the next dawning the ship
slid away from under the lee of the islands and headed southward on
her voyage, with cheers and good wishes to set her forth. The last
message we had from shore came from Dalfin the Prince, and that was
an Irish brogue of untanned deerskin, laced with gold, which flew
through the dusk like a bat to Gerda's feet from the deck of one of
Hakon's ships as we passed her. Words in the Erse came also from
the dim figure who cast it, whereat Phelim and I laughed. Gerda
asked what they were, and we had to tell her.
"Good luck to you for the thief of my heart," he cried. "If I had
not got one, and may never set eyes on your sweet face more, I
would wish you the same today and tomorrow."
"Not much heart-broken is Dalfin," said Bertric, laughing.
Thereafter is little which need be told of that voyage in the
still, autumn weather of the north. We passed, at times sailing,
and now and then with the oars going easily, and always in bright
weather, through the countless islands which fringe the Norway
shores, some bare and rocky, and some clad with birch and fir even
to the edge of the waves. Far inland the great mountains rose,
snow-capped now, and shone golden and white and purple in the
evening sun; and everywhere the forests climbed to meet the snow,
and the sound of the cattle horns came at the homing hour to tell
of the saeters hidden in the valleys.
Once we met a ship passing swiftly northward under oars, and were
not so sure that we might not have to fight or fly. But her crew
were flying from the south, and hailed us to know if it were true
that Hakon had come from England to claim his own. And when we
hailed in answer that so it was, and that we were of his force, the
men roared and cheered while we might hear them. Eric's day was
done.
I think that it was on the fifth day that we came at last to the
break in the line of fringing islands which marks the opening of
the Stavanger Fjord. There we met the long heave and swell of the
open sea, and it was good to feel the lift and quiver of the
staunch ship as she swung over the rollers again.
Across the open stretch of sea we sailed, and the land along which
we coasted was flat and sandy, all unlike that which we had passed
for so many days. But beyond that the mountains were not far,
though in no wise so high as those farther north. And at last Gerda
showed us the place where she had thought to lay Thorwald, her
grandfather, to rest in his ship. We could see the timber slipway,
which still had been left where it was made for that last beaching,
and we could see, too, that here and there the land was turned up
into heaps, where the place for the mound had been prepared. There
was a little village also, and a hut or two had been burnt.
"Our doing," said Asbiorn. "Forgive us, Queen Gerda."
"You at least had no part therein," she said gently. "The rest is
forgotten. Now we have no long way to go before I am again at
home."
Now the land rose again from the level of the Jederen marshes we
had passed, and we had high black cliffs to port and ahead of us.
Along their feet the great rollers of the open sea broke,
thundering, even in this quiet weather, and the spray shot up and
fell in white clouds unceasingly. It was wonderful even now, and
what it would be like in a day of gale and heavy seas might be
guessed. And still we held on, with Asbiorn at the helm, though I
could see as yet no opening in the mighty walls that barred our way
onward. Gerda at my side laughed at me, in all pride in her
homecoming, and in the wild coast at which I was wondering.
The cliffs seemed to part us as we neared those before us, and I
saw a deep and narrow cleft between them into which we steered. The
sail was lowered now, and the oars manned, and so we passed from
the open into the shadow of the mighty cliffs which rose higher and
higher as we rowed between them. For half a mile the swell of the
sea came with us, and then it died away, and we were on still, deep
water, clear as glass, but black in the shadow of the grim and
sheer rock walls. The rhythm of the leisurely swing and creak and
plash of the long oars came back to us from either side as if we
rowed amid an unseen fleet, and when the men broke into the rowing
song they were fain to cease, laughing, for the echoes spoiled the
tune.
The fjord opened out before long, and there was another passage to
the sea, up which came a little swell from the open. The cliffs to
our right had been those of a great island which lies across the
mouth of the fjord itself, which we were but now entering. And then
again the cliffs closed in, and we were in the silence. On the
verge of the cliffs here were poised great stones, as if set to
roll down on those who would try to force a passage, but they were
more than man might lift. They might have been hove here by Jotuns
at play, so great were they, in truth.
Now, it was Asbiorn's plan that we should try to reach the upper
end of the fjord, where the hall and village lay, in the dusk of
evening, if we could do so, unseen. Gerda knew that it was unlikely
that we should be spied until we had passed higher yet; or, at
least, were we seen, that none would wonder at the return of a ship
which was known to be that of Heidrek. The brown sail which had
been our terror might help us here and now.
Far up its reaches the fjord branched, one arm running on toward
the east, and the other, which was our course, northward. Here, at
the meeting of these branches, there was a wider stretch of water,
ringed around with mountains which sloped, forest clad, to the
shores, and dotted with rocky islets round which the tide swirled
and eddied in the meeting of the two currents, for it was falling.
We had timed our passage well, and would wait here until we might
find our way to the hall as the men were gathered for the evening
meal. Our plan was to land and surround the building, and so take
Arnkel if we could without any fighting.
Hidden away at the foot of a valley here was a little village, but
at first we saw no signs that we were noticed. Presently, however,
when Asbiorn had taken the ship into a berth between two of the
islets, and the men were getting her shore lines fast to mooring
posts which seemed to be used only now and then, a boat with two
men in it came off to us thence, and we were hailed to know what we
needed in these waters.
Asbiorn answered, saying that we were friends, waiting for tide up
the fjord, and they went ashore on the islet next them, and came
across it to us. Then Gerda rose up from where she sat watching
them and called them by name, and they started as if they had seen
a ghost, so that she laughed at them. At that they took courage,
and came nearer.
The stern of the ship was not more than a couple of fathoms from
the rock, and there they stood, and it was good to hear their
welcome of the lady whom they had deemed lost. Then they came on
board, and there was rejoicing enough, both in the finding, and in
the peace which would come with Gerda's return. They told us how
that Arnkel was carrying on his mastership here with a high hand,
being in no wise loved. They said that men blamed him for bringing
Heidrek on the land, seeing that he had made terms with him when it
would have been as well to fight; and that, moreover, there were
not a few who believed that in some way he had a hand in the loss
of Gerda. Now, he was trying to gather the men in order to go to
the help of Eric the King, who was fighting in the Wick, as we had
heard, and that was not at all to the mind of those who had
followed Thorwald. War in the Wick, beyond their ken altogether,
was no affair of theirs.
Whereby it was plain that here we were likely to do a very good
turn to Hakon at once, and we were just in time. Our ship, which
Heidrek had left here, was ready for sailing, as it seemed, and if
we had come a day or two later we should have lost Arnkel, and
maybe had trouble to follow.
Now, these two men were the pilots of the fjord, as we had guessed
from their coming off to us. At first they were for going
straightway and telling the men at the hall and town that Gerda had
come, but we thought it best to take that news ourselves. They
would steer us up the fjord in the dusk presently, and would answer
any hail from watchers who would spy our coming.
So we waited for the turn of the tide, and armed ourselves in all
bravery of gold and steel and scarlet as befitted the men of Hakon
and of Gerda the Queen, for she should go back to her own as a
queen should. And then a thought came to me, and I spoke of it to
Bertric, and so went and stood at the door of the cabin where Gerda
waited, and asked her to do somewhat for me.
"Will you not come back even as you went?" I asked. "Let the men
see you stand before them as you were wont, in your mail and helm
and weapons, the very daughter of warriors."
But she shook her head, smiling.
"No, Malcolm, it is foolishness. What need to put on the gear which
seems to make me what I am not?"
"Nothing will make you less than a sea queen, my Gerda," I said.
"Maybe I might say more than that, but you would think me only
flattering. I would have you wear the arms as surety to your folk
at first sight that you are indeed here again. It may save words,
and time."
So I persuaded her, and she left me to don the war gear for the
last time, as she told me. She would dress herself even as she had
been clad for the funeral and as we had found her.
Then the tide turned, and slowly the current from the sea found its
way up the fjord and reached us, and we warped out of the narrow
berth between the rocks, and manned the oars and set out on the
last stage of our voyage. The mast was lowered and housed by this
time, and the ship ready for aught. Only we did not hang the war
boards along the gunwales, and we had no dragon head on the stem,
for that Heidrek had not carried at any time. We had no mind to set
all men against the ship at first sight as an enemy who came
prepared for battle.
We entered the northern branch of the fjord, and at once the high
cliffs rose above us again, for the waterway narrowed until we were
in a deep cleft of the mountains. The water was still as glass in
the evening quiet, and as the stars came out overhead, we seemed to
be sailing under one deep sky and on another. But the oar blades
broke the water into brighter stars than those which were
reflected, and after us stretched a wake of white light between the
black cliffs, for the strange sea fires burnt in the broken waters
brightly, coming and going as the waves swirled around the ship's
path.
So we went steadily for a long way, and then we came to a place
where the rocky walls of the channel nearly met, so that one could
have thrown a stone from the deck on either as we passed. High up
on the left cliffside a little light glimmered, for a cottage hung
as it were on a shelf of the mountain above us. The measured beat
of the oars sounded hollow here as the sheer cliffs doubled their
sounds. Some man heard it, and a door opened by the little light,
like a square patch of brightness on the shadow of the hillside.
Then he hailed us in a great voice which echoed back to us, and one
of the pilots answered him cheerily with some homely password, and
we saw his form stand black against his door for a moment before he
closed it, and he waved his hand to the friend whose voice he knew.
The pilot told me that it was his duty to listen for passing ships
thus and hail them. Beside his hut was piled a beacon ready to
light if all was not well, and in the hut hung a great, wooden
cattle lure wherewith to alarm the town. We were close to it now.
By this time it was as if I knew the place well, so often had Gerda
told me of it. The fjord opened out from this narrow channel into a
wide lake from which the mountains fell back, seamed and laced with
bright streams and waterfalls, and clad with forests, amid which
the cornfields were scattered wherever the rocks gave way to deeper
soil. At the head of this lake, where a swift salmon river entered
the fjord, was the hall, set on rising ground above the clustering
houses of the town, and looking down over them to the anchorage and
the wharf for which we were making. Behind the hall rose a sheer
cliff, sheltering it and the other houses from the north and east.
All this I was to see plainly hereafter. Before me now in the dusk,
which was almost darkness, as the ship slid from the narrows into
the open, was the wide ring of mountains and the still lake, and
across that the twinkling lights of the town, doubled in the water
below them, and above them all the long row of high-set openings
under the eaves of the hall itself, glowing red with the flame of
fire and torches, and flickering as the smoke curled across and
through them.
I wondered what welcome was waiting for us from those who were
gathered there, as I stood with Gerda on my arm beside our
comrades, who watched the pilots as they steered. Bertric was
there, and Phelim, who by this time spoke the Norse well enough,
besides Asbiorn.
There was some spur of hill between us and part of the town, for
the light seemed to glide from behind it as we held on, but its
mass was lost in the shadows. I was watching the lights as they
came, one by one, to view, and then of a sudden, on the blackness
of the cliff above the hall, shone out a cross of light, tall and
bright and clear, as it were a portent, or as set there to guard
the place. So suddenly did it come that I started, and I heard
Father Phelim draw in his breath with some words which I could not
catch.
"What is that?" I asked Gerda, under my breath and pointing.
She laughed gently, and her hand tightened on my arm.
"We were wont to call it Thor's hammer," she said. "We see it from
time to time, and it brings luck. Now it greets me and you--but it
is not the old sign to me any longer."
"It is strange," said Bertric. "Once you called on Asa Thor--and
here is that one to whom you called, and yonder--"
"No, no," she said, clinging to me, "it is no longer Thor's
hammer."
"It is the sign which shall be held dear here," said Phelim. "It is
the sign that all good has come to this place."
"So may it be," said Gerda softly, and I thought that the
reflection of the cross made a glimmering pathway from the hall to
the ship which bore her homeward.
But I had no time to wonder how and why that sign was there, for
now we were seen, and torches began to flicker along the wharf. Our
pilots spoke to Asbiorn, and he passed the word for men to go
forward with the shore warps, and the oar strokes slowed down. I
thought I saw the broad gleam of light as the doors of the hall
opened and closed again, and then a hail or two went back and forth
from the shore and us. The oars were laid in and we were alongside
the wharf, and quietly the rowers took their arms and sat in their
places, waiting, as they had been bidden. There were not more than
a score of men waiting us ashore, for it was supper time.
Then came a man from out of the town toward us, and by the time we
were moored he was on the wharf opposite the stern. He had on helm
and sword, but no mail, and his shield hung over his shoulder. The
men made way for him, and in the torchlight I saw that he was
gray-bearded and strong.
"It is Gorm the Steward," said Gerda to me, "He is my friend. Let
me speak to him."
"Ho, shipmaster!" cried Gorm. "Welcome, if you come in friendship,
as I suppose. Whence are you, and what would you?"
"Friends," said Asbiorn; "friends with a cargo some of you will be
glad to see."
"Aye, aye," answered the steward. "You traders always say that.
Well, that will wait for daylight. Meanwhile come up to the hall
and sup."
Then his eyes lit on the silent, mail-clad men at the oar benches,
and he started.
"Ho!" he cried sternly, "what is the meaning of all this show of
weapons?"
"Speak to him, Gerda," I said then, seeing that it was time.
She went to the rail and leaned over it. The red flares shone on
her mail and white dress and sparkling helm.
"Gorm," she cried softly; "Gorm, old friend--I have come home!"
He stood for a moment as if turned to stone there on the wharf.
Then he shaded his eyes with his hand as if in broad daylight, and
stared at Gerda for but a moment, for she spoke his name once more.
"Odin," he cried, "this is a good day--if my ears and eyes do not
play me false--yet it is hardly to be believed. Let me come on
board."
He hurried to the gangway, and there Gerda met him. One close look
was enough for him, and he bent his knee and kissed her hand with
words of welcome, and so would be made known to Bertric and myself.
He looked us up and down with a sharp glance and smiled, and Gerda
told her tale in a few words.
"True enough," he said; "for you wear the arms of the house, and
wear them well. I never thought to see one in the war gear of the
young master again and not to resent it--but Gerda will have made
no mistake. Now, what will you do? Arnkel sits in the hall, and
with him men who have come from Eric Bloodaxe the King."
"Hakon, Athelstane's foster son, is king," said Bertric. "There is
news for you. He is at Thrandheim, and the north has risen for him.
We are his men."
Gorm's eyes shone, and he whistled softly. "News indeed! This is a
day of wonders. What next?"
"How many of the men in the hall will stand by Arnkel when Gerda is
known?" I asked. "She would have no fighting if it can be avoided."
Maybe a dozen--men who never knew her. That is of no account, for
there are two score of our folk supping there."
"Well, then," I said, "we will surround the hall and walk in
quietly and call on Arnkel to surrender. If he does not, we must
make him do so; but first Gerda's tale shall be told of him."
Then Gerda said: "Let me go into the hall first and speak with
Arnkel face to face. I have no fear of him, and I think that my
folk will stand by me."
Just for a moment we doubted if that was safe for her, but Gorm the
Steward had the last word.
"Let it be so," he said. "Gerda shall call to her men, and they
will not hang back. Then Arnkel must needs give in. Now, the sooner
the better for all concerned."