BEFORE THE CHIEFTAIN
At home let a man be cheerful,
And toward a guest liberal;
Of wise conduct he should be,
Of good memory and ready speech.
Ha'vama'l
In the river, on the city-side, the "Sea-Deer" lay at anchor, stripped
to her hulk, as the custom was. Her oars and her rowing-benches, her
scarlet-and-white sail, her gilded vanes and carven dragon-head, were
all carefully stored in the booths at the camp. With the eagerness of
lovers, her crew rushed down to summon her from her loneliness and once
more hang her finery about her. All day long their brushes lapped her
sides caressingly, and their hammers rang upon her decking. All day long
the ship's boat plied to and fro, bringing her equipments across the
river. All day long Alwin was hurried back and forth with messages, and
tools, and coils of rope.
The last trip he made, Sigurd Haraldsson walked with him across the
bridge and along the city-bank of the river. The young Viking had spent
the day riding around the country with Tyrker, getting prices on a
ship-load of corn. Corn, it seemed, was worth its weight in gold in
Greenland.
"Leif shows a keen wit in taking Eric a present of corn," Sigurd
explained, as they dodged the loaded thralls running up and down the
gangways. "He will like it better than greater valuables. His pleasure
will come near to converting him."
Alwin shook his head doubtfully,--not at this last observation, but at
the prospect in general. "The more I think of going to Greenland," he
said, "the more excellent a place I find Norway."
He looked appreciatively at the river beside them, and ahead at the
great shining fiord. Scattered over its sunlit waters trim clipper-built
craft rode at anchor; between them, long-oared skiffs darted back and
forth like long-legged water-bugs. Along the shore a chain of ships
stretched as far as eye could reach,--graceful war cruisers,
heavily-laden provision ships, substantial trading vessels. On the flat
beach and along the wooded banks rose great storehouses and lines of
fine new ship-sheds. Rich merchandise was piled before them; rows of
covered carts stood in waiting. Everywhere were busy throngs of traders
and seamen and slaves. His eye kindled as it passed from point to point.
"It seems that Northmen are something more than pirates," he said,
thoughtfully.
"It seems that your speech is something more than free," said Sigurd, in
displeasure.
Alwin realized that it had been, and explained: "I but spoke of you as
southerners do who have not seen your country. I tell you truly that,
after England, I believe Norway to be the finest country in the world."
Sigurd swung along with recovered good-humor. "I will not quarrel with
you over that exception. And yonder is Valbrand just come ashore,--at
the fore-gangway. Go and do your errand with him, and then we will walk
over to that pier and see what it is that the crowd is gathered about,
to make them shout so."
The attraction proved to be a chattering brown ape that some sailor had
brought home from the East. Part of the spectators regarded it as a
strange pagan god; part believed it to be an unfortunate being deformed
by witchcraft; and the rest took it for a devil in his own proper
person,--so there was great shrieking and scattering, whichever way it
turned its ugly face. It happened that Sigurd was better informed,
having seen a similar specimen kept as a pet at the court of the Norman
Duke; so the terror of the others amused him and his companion mightily.
They stayed until the creature put an end to the show by breaking away
from its captor and taking refuge in the rigging.
It was a fascinating place altogether,--that beach,--and difficult to
get away from. Almost every ship brought back from its voyage some beast
or bird or fish so outlandish that it was impossible to pass it by.
Twilight had fallen before the pair turned in among the hills.
Between the trees shone the red glow of the camp-fires. Through the dusk
came the pleasant odors of frying fish and roasting pork, with now and
then a whiff of savory garlic. Alwin turned on his companion in sudden
excitement.
"It is likely that Leif is already here!"
Sigurd laughed. "Do you think it advisable for me to climb a tree?"
They stepped out of the shadow into the light of the leaping flames. On
the farther side of the long fire, men were busy with dripping
bear-steaks and half-plucked fowls; while others bent over the steaming
caldron or stirred the big mead-vat. On the near side, ringed around by
stalwart forms, showing black against the fire-glow, the chief sat at
his ease. The flickering light revealed his bronzed eagle face and the
richness of his gold-embroidered cloak. At his elbow Helga the Fair
waited with his drinking-horn. Tyrker hovered behind him, touching now
his hair and now his broad shoulders with an old man's tremulous
fondness. All were listening reverently to his quick, curt narrative.
Sigurd's laughing carelessness fell from him. He walked forward with the
gallant air that sat so well upon his handsome figure. "Health and
greeting, foster-father!" he said in his clear voice. "I have come back
to you, an outlaw seeking shelter."
Helga spilled the ale in her consternation. The old German began a
nervous plucking at his beard. The heads that had swung around toward
Sigurd, turned back expectantly.
More than one heart sank when it was seen that the chief neither held
out his hand nor moved from his seat. Silver-Tongued and sunny-hearted,
the Jarl's son was well-beloved. There was a long pause, in which there
was no sound but the crackling of flames and the loud sputtering of fat.
At last Leif said sternly, "You are my foster-son, and I love your
father more than anyone else, kinsman or not; yet I cannot offer you
hand or welcome until I know wherein you have broken the law."
Through the breathless hush, Sigurd answered with perfect composure:
"That was to be expected of Leif Ericsson. I would not have it
otherwise. All shall be without deceit on my side."
He folded his arms across his breast, and, standing easily before his
judge, told his story. "In the games last fall it happened that I shot
against Hjalmar Oddsson until he was obliged to acknowledge himself
beaten; and for that he wished me ill luck. When the Assembly was held
in my district this spring, he came there and three times tried to make
me angry, so that I should forget that the Assembly Plain is sacred
ground. The first time, he spoke lightly of my skill; but I thought that
a jest, since it had proved too much for him. The second time, he spoke
slightingly of my courage, saying that the reason I did not go in my
father's Viking ship this spring was because I was wont to be afraid in
battle. Now it had been seen by everybody that I wished to go. I had
spent the winter in Normandy, yet I returned by the first ship, that I
might make one of my father's crew. It was not my doing that my ship got
lost in the fog and did not fetch me here until after the Jarl had
sailed. It angered me that such slander should be spoken of me. Yet,
remembering that men are peace-holy on the Assembly Plain, I did manage
to turn it aside. A third time he threw himself in my way, and began
speaking evil of a friend of mine, a man with whom I have sworn
blood-brotherhood. I forgot where we stood, and what was the law, and I
drew my sword and leaped upon him; and it is likely the daylight would
have shone through him, but that he had friends hidden who ran out and
seized me and dragged me before the law-man. Seeing me with drawn sword,
he knew without question that I had broken the law; so, without caring
what I urged, he passed sentence upon me, banishing me from my district
for three seasons. My father and my kinsmen are away on Viking voyages;
I cannot take service with King Olaf, and I will not serve under a
lesser man. It was not easy to know where to go, until I thought of you,
Leif Ericsson. It was you who taught me that 'He who is cold in defence
of a friend, will be cold so long as Hel rules.' There is no fear in my
mind that you will send me away."
He finished as composedly as he had begun, and stood waiting. But not
for long. Leif rose from his seat, sweeping the circle with a keen
glance. "It is likely," he said grimly, "that someone has told you that
an unfavorable answer might be expected, because I feared to lose King
Olaf's favor. You have done well to trust my friendship, foster-son." He
stretched out his hand, a rare gleam of pleasure lighting his deep-set
eyes. "You have behaved well to your friend, Sigurd Haraldsson; there is
the greatest excuse for you in this affair. I bid you welcome, and I
offer you a share in everything I own. If it is your choice, you shall
go back to Brattahlid with me; and my home shall be your home for
whatever time you wish."
Sigurd thanked him with warmth and dignity. Then a twinkle of mischief
shone at the comers of his handsome mouth; after the fashion of the
French court, he bent over the brawny outstretched hand and kissed it.
A murmur of mingled amazement and amusement went up from the group. Leif
himself gave a short laugh as he jerked his hand away.
"This is the first time that ever my fist was mistaken for a maiden's
lips. It is to be hoped that this is not the most useful accomplishment
you have brought from France. Now go and try your fine manners on
Helga,--if you do not fear for your ears. I wish to speak with this
thrall."
But Helga had not now spirit enough to avenge the salute. She drooped
over the fire, staring absently into the embers; the heat toasting her
delicate face rose-red, the light touching her hair into a wonderful
golden web. She looked up at Sigurd with a faint frown; then dropped her
chin back into her hands and forgot him.
Alwin came and placed himself before the chief's seat, where the young
Viking had stood. He was not so picturesque a figure, with his shorn
head and his white slaves'-dress; but he stood straight and supple in
his young strength, his head haughtily erect, his eyes bright and
fearless as a young falcon's.
Leif put his questions. "What are you called?"
"I am called Alwin, Edmund Jarl's son."
"Jarl-born? Then it is likely that you can handle a sword?"
"Not a few of your own men can bear witness to that."
Rolf spoke up with his quiet smile. "The boy speaks the truth. One would
think that he had drunk nothing but dragon's blood since his birth."
"So?" said Leif dryly. "It may be that I should be thankful my men are
not torn to pieces. But these accomplishments count for naught; none
here but have them. You must accomplish something that I think of more
importance, or I shall sell you and buy a man-thrall who has been
trained to work. It seems that you can read runes: can you also write
them?"
In a flash of memory, Alwin saw again Brother Ambrose's cell, and his
rebellious self toiling at the desk; and he marvelled that in this
far-off place and time that toil was to be of use to him.
"To some small degree I can," he answered. "I learned in my boyhood; but
last summer, on the dairy farm of Gilli of Trondhjem, I practised on
sheep-skins--"
"Gilli of Trondhjem?" Leif repeated. He sat suddenly erect, and shot a
glance at the unconscious Helga; and the old German, peering from the
shadows behind him, did the same.
Alwin regarded them wonderingly. "Yes, Gilli the trader, whom men call
the Wealthy. It was he who first had me in my captivity."
For a long time the chief sat tugging thoughtfully at his yellow
mustache. Tyrker bent over and whispered in his ear; and he nodded
slowly, with another glance at Helga.
"But for this I should never have thought of him,--yet, it is certainly
one way out of the matter."
Suddenly he made a motion with his hand, so that the circle fell back
out of hearing. He turned and fixed his piercing eyes on the thrall as
though he would probe his brain.
"I ask you to tell me what manner of man this Gilli is?"
It happened that Alwin asked nothing better than a chance to free his
mind. He answered instantly: "Gilli of Trondhjem is a low-minded man who
has gained great wealth, and is so greedy for property that he would
give the nails off his hands and the tongue out of his head to get it.
He is an overbearing churl."
Leif's eyes challenged him, but he did not recant.
"So!" said the chief abruptly; then he added: "I am told for certain
that his wife is a well-disposed woman."
"I say nothing against that," Alwin assented. "She is from England,
where women are taught to bear themselves gently."
His eulogy was cut short by an exclamation from the old German.
"Donnerwetter! That is true! An English captive she was. Perhaps she
their runes also understands?"
Finding this a question addressed to him, Alwin answered that he knew
her to understand them, having heard her read from a book of Saxon
prayers.
Tyrker rolled up his eyes devoutly. "Heaven itself it is that so has
ordered it for the shield-maiden! You see, my son? This youth here can
make runes,-she can read them; so can you speak with her without that
the father shall know."
"Bring torches into the sleeping-house," Leif called, rising hastily.
"Valbrand, take your horse and lay saddle on it. You of England, get
bark and an arrow-point, or whatever will serve for rune writing, and
follow me."
What took place behind the log walls, no one knew. When it was over, and
Valbrand had ridden away in the darkness, Rolf sought out the scribe and
gently gave him to understand that he was curious in the matter. But
Alwin only cast a doubtful glance across the fire at Helga, and begged
him to talk of something else.
Late the next afternoon, Valbrand returned, his horse muddy and spent,
and was closeted for a long time with Leif and the old German. But none
heard what passed between them.