Ulf looked more carefully into the strength of his longship that week
than even he or Sigurd ever had before a voyage. Not an arrow went on
board which he did not test with his own fingers, and send to the
smithy if not perfect,--and who was a better judge of ironwork than
he? While the men he chose for the crew were the sturdiest, toughest,
craftiest set of rascals that ever sailed from a vik. Every one of
them was fit to command a longship if the captain was laid low. And
every man of them, because of it, knew how to obey on the instant, or
if need be, to win a battle without orders. And in a safe hiding-place
was a large bundle. It contained a present for the King.
Merrily flashed the sunlight on the oarblades. Edith Fairhair was
brimming with questions, too excited to sit still. It was her first
voyage, and Ulf the Silent talked more than he ever did before in his
life, explaining things that he knew about and forgetting to answer
when he didn't know. Once, on the voyage, they had a touch of war, and
Ulf looked at Edith and felt a sudden thrill which he had never felt
before when a fight was coming. If he lost now, he lost what a kingdom
could not replace.
On came the enemy's craft with the swift confidence of many a capture.
But while yet beyond bowshot it was suddenly checked and hung in the
wind, even backing water a little. That stern, silent figure standing
in the opposing prow seemed familiar to the wary captain. That
glittering mail, the dragon-crest on the helmet, that too had he seen
--somewhere. Ha! Now he remembered. Once before he had thanked his
stars that his had not been the ship which the man in mail had
boarded. There was no other ship to take the brunt this time, and his
cheek turned a little pale.
The vessels drifted a little nearer, and the stranger hailed,
"Art thou not Ulf, of Sigurd's Vik?"
"Yea!"
A flutter swept through the stranger-craft, and a pause. Its men
flashed at each other startled looks.
"Is it war?" the captain asked again, hoping his men would not note
the little tremble in his voice.
"War have I seen," was the curt reply, and there was a twang as a bow
was strung. Then Edith said a swift word to which Ulf listened,
frowning, yet called to the undecided captain.
"Ulf, of Sigurd's Vik, has seen too much war to be afraid to offer
peace to any man. Choose thou!"
The stranger laughed a laugh of relief, but said,
"Peace it shall be, since that is a new thing to both of us. I am
Thorfin the Viking."
Ulf's face darkened.
"Had I known thy name before, the choice would not have been left to
thee. It is peace for this time; but Thorfin the Viking will do well
to sail south instead of north, for when we meet next Thorfin's ship
quickly will need another captain,"--which was a very long and
unamiable speech for Ulf the Silent to make. And he allowed his ship
to drift until the sail of the other had dropped below the horizon,
still speeding southward like a scared white rabbit, that is happy in
a close shave from the snap of a wolf. Then Ulf swung his yard to the
wind again, saying only,
"Truly, Edith, one sea-thief owes thee thanks to-night," and went his
way.
Knut the Great sat on his throne-seat in his raftered hall. Here and
there little groups of his chief men chatted and exchanged news, but
Knut heard them not. The dark carving of his seat showed richly
through the furs that draped it, and white gleams of walrus ivory
lighted the darkness, but Knut saw them not. An official was giving an
account of what had occurred of late in the village under his command,
but for once Knut listened with only half an ear as he sat there with
his chin in his hand, for from the shore below there came the soft
wash of the ever restless sea which the King so dearly loved. The
swash brought swiftly to mind the days of his youth when his life was
all before him, and his kingdom was the length of his deck. Those were
happy days, indeed, when the right ruling of a great land was not
among his duties! For power has its own troubles, and the King would
not be remembered so long had his reign not been a good as well as a
great one.
The hum of voices came up from the shore, and all the well-known
sounds of the harbour-life, the splash of a rope falling in the water,
the thud of an oar flung down, the grating of a keel drawn up on the
shingly beach. And suddenly he was conscious that it had ceased, all
save the more distinctly sounding water. Surprised, he glanced quickly
through the open door, and saw that all the shore-folk had stopped
their work to gaze at a longship flying swiftly onward; a stranger,
evidently, for a man was on the mast watching out for hidden rocks and
pointing out the channel to the steersman. The long row of shields
hung outboard on each side told that it was something more than a
peaceful trader, and Knut watched with interest, motioning for
silence.
With a rush the craft shot half her length on shore and her crew
poured out in a well-trained throng, which without delay swung into
column and headed for the hall. Knut the Great eyed them with
admiration. Never had he seen a sturdier set of men; and something in
the lithe young leader at their head, all glittering with shining
mail, reminded him of his own lost youth, of which but the moment
before he had been dreaming. A young woman walked by the captain's
side, fair-haired, fair-faced, with a gleam of gold in her collar and
bracelets of gold on her round arm. Then at a sign, the men halted,
and the pair came on alone.
With his curiosity aroused, and in the free manner of the times, the
King left his seat and came to the entrance to meet them. The light
was better out of doors.
Neither bow nor salute did the young man make until he was at the very
portal; then he saw before him a slight, gray man, rather plain of
dress, who looked rather than asked his business.
"Is this the hall of Knut the Great?"
"Yea."
"I have come to have speech with him."
"And thou?" The keen eyes supplied the rest of the question.
"Ulf the Silent, of Sigurd's Vik," was the brief reply.
The questioner started slightly as though the name was not unknown to
him, and glanced quickly at the men beyond, but they had not stirred.
Then after a moment, he said,
"Come!" and wheeling, led the way back to the audience hall. Ulf saw
his guide stride forward to an empty throne-seat into which he sank,
and with his chin in his hand said, quietly,
"I am Knut the King."
For a breathing-space Ulf halted, startled. This the King! Then he
recovered his wits again.
"Sigurd's Vik is well governed; but men say England and Denmark are
better ruled. This have I come to see, and with me Sigurd's daughter,
now my wife." The King smiled, not ill-pleased at what he heard.
"Ulf, of Sigurd's Vik, is not unknown to me by hearsay, and right glad
am I to meet him, and to talk of the ways of ruling men. Yet if what I
hear be true, he need not cross vik-mouth to find just ruling."
And he had seats brought for them, and food and drink, as was the
custom, sending, too, for his sister to receive Edith Fairhair as her
guest. But Ulf, for once, appeared ill at ease to her who knew his
ways so well.
Then the King began to talk of government in words so wise, so
thoughtful, that he forgot his own thoughts and listened heartily,
planning to make good use of what he learned, in after days. The other
men in the hall had gathered to meet the stranger, and they, too, said
their word now and then, for those were the days when every man who
had a good word to say in council was in no way backward about saying
it. But some were not so courteous to the stranger as they might have
been, and said one, when Ulf modestly raised a doubt in a case which
he did not fully understand,
"Know thou, stranger, King Knut is more than king of men. The sea
itself obeys him."
Had Ulf been older he would have passed it by unnoticed. As it was he
merely asked Knut, with lifted eyebrow,
"Are these captains thine advisers?"
The King flushed hotly and turned to his flatterers.
"Sayest thou I am the lord of the sea--that it will obey my word?"
A dozen voices shouted "Yea!" in as many different ways. The King
looked at them steadily for a moment, then with a half-smile waved his
hand to his throne from which he had arisen, and said,
"Carry me that to the shore, and do thou attend."
It was low tide, but the young flood had begun to come in, and when
the throne was placed well out toward the water, Knut seated himself
and said,
"Wait! now shall we see the value of advisers."
Presently the incoming tide drew near, and the King arose, stretched
out his hand to the waters and said,
"Back! I, Knut the Great, command thee. Back!"
Never a word replied the sea, but still the unceasing tide crept
steadily on.
"Back, I say! Knut, Master of the Sea, commands it!"
Lip-lap, lip-lap came a gentle wave with a white fringe, circling in
eddies landward, and splashed ever so gently under the royal chair;
and if the King had not lifted them with haste the royal feet would
have been wet. Then said the King, grimly smiling,
"It is well my men have proved their worth as captains, and need not
be judged by this."
And his councillors were ashamed, and could not look him in the face
for many days. But to Ulf he made presents of value.
Then said Ulf, with a rueful laugh,
"King Knut, I had deemed I had at least one thing worth offering as a
gift to a King," and with the word he laid before him the white bear's
hide, tanned with the head on, and in the cleft of it still stood the
keen-edged battle-axe.
Knut's eye twinkled, reading now the reason for the young man's
discomposure, for in his hall lay stretched a wealth of just such
trophies, and he asked how it was won.
"Singlehanded," said Ulf.
"A shaft to each leg, then spear to the throat and axe to the brain."
Then said the King, significantly,
"If I have eleven other bearskins, am I not eleven times the better
able to know its worth? It _is_ a gift for a King!" and Ulf was
content.
And History tells that in after days, when King Knut wanted to make an
especially valuable gift to the Minster of Crowland, he could think of
nothing richer than twelve great white bearskins, one for each of the
twelve Apostles. I like to believe that one of them had a deep cleft
in the back of the head, where Ulf's axe sank in. But I think Knut
knew the value of a good steel weapon too well to give _that_ away,
for we read in another book that such an axe once owned by him was
handed down till Harold of England owned it, and with it he cut to
pieces a suit of armour hung on a post, by way of showing his strength
to the King whose guest or prisoner he was--for at the time he was a
little of both. And every stroke slashed that armour in such great
holes that I think the axe that did it must indeed have been of Star,
or nickel steel, and of itself a gift for a King!
For many a day Ulf dwelt with the King, and even sailed to Denmark
with him for a space.
At last the time came for Knut to return to England, the larger
country, where he lived for most of his reign, and Ulf went back with
him and Edith with Ulf, of course. A mighty fleet sailed also,--never
had either of them seen so many ships before,--and when the roll of
the oars in the rowlocks came slipping over the glassy sea it rumbled
like muttered thunder. Stirred by the sound, here and there the wilder
blades among the crews remembered old war-days, and struck up the
Northmen's warsong, the laughing, murder-singing "Yuch-hey-saa-saa-
saa," that had carried terror with it to the lands beyond the water;
and the trading vessels within hearing swung hastily southward and
rowed away for dear life, fully believing that war had come again.
SPARK IX.
HOW THE STAR HELPED TO WIN A THRONE.
And war did come in time. Four kings rose and fell in Ulf's own
lifetime. England was one great battlefield for many a year after Knut
had died. Harold, Harthaknut, Eadward, and yet another Harold, one
after another had their little say, and their own troubles,--the
troubles of kings who know no better cure for them than war.
But Ulf was not of these. Too wise to linger long in that unfriendly
air after the death of his friend the great King, he kept the seas as
a free trader, and far and wide roamed the longship which he
commanded. The gruff old captain who guarded the port of Wisby
[Footnote: Wisby, A famous old walled town on the island of Gottland.]
against all sea-thieves, cracked his face into what was meant for a
happy smile when his watchers told him that the inrushing craft looked
surely enough like Ulf's. The laughter-loving fisherwomen of Marwyk
[Footnote: Marwyk. An old seaport on the coast of Flanders.] sprang up
and threw silvery herring at each other from pure glee when their
farseeing eyes spied out the flag of his vessel and read its strange
device. That flag was like no other's, for it was as black as a crow's
wing, save in the centre, where gleamed in the snow-white embroidery
of Edith Fairhair a snarling white bear's head.
[Illustration]
Once, indeed, Ulf got lost. For three full weeks he never saw a star.
For three full weeks, day after day, his vessel fled before the gale
onward, ever onward, over the gray, desolate, wildly tossing water,
until they had need to spread their sail to catch the rain, for
watercasks were empty; and one dried herring per day for food was all
that Ulf could spare his crew out of their scanty stock. Then the sun
broke out warm and cheery and green isles began to show themselves.
"This is a new land," quoth Ulf. "I wonder much what races dwell in
it," and kept all the brighter lookout.
Still, food must be had, and he was ready to pay for it with wealth or
blows,--whichever might be most convenient to the occasion. As it
happened, the choice was not left to him, for two galleys darted out
from a narrow strait, each flaunting a strange flag, blood-red, with a
star and a single crescent pictured on. it. Dark, swarthy faces rose
above the bulwarks, and wild warcries in an unknown tongue.
"Allah! Allahu!"
Then came the hiss of javelins.
Cheerily laughed Ulf and all his men, amazed and amused at the odd
white turbans and the white teeth showing so plainly against the dark
of the threatening faces; and the Barbary pirates in turn were
thunderstruck when, instead of cries of fright, out growled again that
laughing war-song, the laughter of death which never failed to send a
shiver through the hearer, be he never so brave, if he knew he had to
face the singers. There were men on those galleys who had heard the
"Yuch-hey-saa-saa-saa" before and knew well what was to follow. But
flight was now too late. And thus the Iron Star first warred against
the turbaned warriors of the Crescent.
Ulf found much spoil in those two vessels,--golden cups, beautiful
silken robes, and jewel-hilted weapons,--after the slightly difficult
task of taking them was over; and plenty of provisions also, with
which warily he turned square round on his heel and sailed back again
for twice three weeks until he was in familiar waters once more, well
content with what he had. As to the pirates, they deserved all they
got, and Ulf and his men had a merry time with them while the fight
lasted, which was as long as one was left alive. For those were wild
times!
Scarcely were they in a safe port and rested, however, when great
tidings flew abroad. How did such news travel? Ship told it unto ship,
village sent word to village, perhaps signal-fires flashed it on from
headland to headland, that in the north there was a great gathering of
men of war, which always in those days meant battle. Hence Ulf wisely
thought it well to fare northward himself and learn at first hand what
it was all about. His hair was a little gray, now, and thin in spots
where the helmet pressed; but his brain was just as ready for wise,
long-headed plans as ever; and by his side a tall, slender lad now
held his shield and guarded him when shafts were flying, and Ulf's own
bow was bent. He, too, was one of the silent; yet, when asked, said he
was Wulf, the son of Ulf of Sigurd's Vik.
So, one morning just at sunrise the flag of the White Bear's Head was
floating in the land breeze, as the longship made its way into harbour
among a vast fleet of other craft,--so vast that Wulf was surprised
into speech, and Ulf himself admitted that he never had seen the like.
The shore was one great camp; an army gathered; and Ulf found himself
nodding greeting to many an old acquaintance as they shouldered
through it, Wulf and he, straight for the heart of the throng; Ulf
still carrying in one hand his unbent sea-bow, and Wulf, the long,
straight, two-handed sword of his father, as well as his own keen axe
--of Star steel, both.
Under a large tent a consultation of leaders was going on, and a dark,
thick-set, angry-looking man was laying down the law to them in the
strongest words he knew--and he knew a great many--when Ulf strode in.
The captain stopped. Flashes of recognition shot into a face here and
there; a wrathful growl came from one group, in the back of which was
the mean, crafty face of Thorfin the Viking. Then the dark man strode
sharply forward with a hearty greeting.
"What, Ulf the Silent? So you too will help an old comrade? This is
well indeed. But what are these fellows growling about, like so many
white-toothed mastiffs?"
"I've met their mates and them at Sigurd's Vik," quoth Ulf. "These few
are what were left," and the other roared with laughter.
"You are the man I want, to keep these wild blades in order. A man
like you is needed over them. I make you a sea-king here and now, and
my clerk shall give you it in writing." And a sea-king Ulf was from
that day, or, as we should now call it, "admiral,"--that is to say, a
captain over other captains. It made Thorfin very angry, but since he
cared a great deal for his own skin, he took considerable pains to
keep in good order for many a day to come.
"But first," said Ulf, cautiously, "Tell me what this is all about."
Now those were the days when a king looked on his kingdom very much as
though it was his private farm. It, and the people in it, existed
chiefly for his sole benefit; and if they objected, so much the worse
for the people. So, when Duke William of Normandy told Ulf a long
story about his troubles, how Edward the Confessor, King of England
and his cousin, had promised that when he died he would leave the
kingdom to William, Ulf saw nothing strange in that.
Why should not a man give a farm to his cousin when he died,
especially when that cousin's wife, Matilda, was another cousin? Then
Harold, Duke of Wessex, had sworn by a whole tubful of relics of dead
saints that when Edward died he would not stand in William's way.
That, too, was a great thing to do. A promise ought to be kept to the
letter, and how much more a sacred oath like that!--although men do
say that Harold did not know there was a relic within a mile of him at
the time he gave the promise.
But that promise Harold had not kept. On the contrary, he had claimed,
first, that when he made it he had been shipwrecked on the Norman
coast; he was really a prisoner, and gave the promise that he might
get away; which as a matter of honour but made a bad matter worse.
Then, more reasonably, from our point of view, he claimed that the
kingdom of England belonged to the English, and was not his to give.
Englishmen had made _him_ King, not William, and that was the end of
it,--an answer which was likely to drive William nearly wild. And it
did. William swore a great oath that before he died he would be King
of all England. And Ulf, with many another, promised to help him.
Then Ulf went straight back to his ship again and that very night set
a double guard as anchor-watch, for never in all his life, he said,
had he seen so many thieves together at one time, and so few honest
men. All of those same thieves and the other few presently set sail
across the channel; and, odd to say, to this day there are men who
proudly claim that a very far back ancestor of theirs "came over with
William the Conqueror." But perhaps they have made themselves believe
that that particular person was one of those honest ones.
Ulf talked it over with young Wulf in the first watch that night.
"If England were one 'twould be a mad voyage," he said. "Mind thou
this, Wulf, when thou art captain, one arrow can be broken. Two also.
But to break a bundle is another matter. This Harold is a strong man,
but he has only a part of the country behind him. His own brother,
Tostig, has raised a fleet against him, Thor knows where."
"His brother?" and Wulf stared in amaze.
"So William says, and he is a fox. Tostig is a hothead; he cannot
govern himself, so of course he cannot rule others. He was made lord
of the Northumbrians because of his royal blood, but they were men,
not thralls, and presently told him that his health would be better in
another land. Then he looked to Harold to help him with an army, but
Harold found the Northumbrians were so much in the right of it that
Tostig's rule was over, for help him he could not with any show of
justice. Now, then, Tostig is sailing with the King of Norway, to raid
the northern coasts."
"What! is Harold Hardrada of Norway with us too?"
"So William says. Harold Hardrada, the 'stern in council' is to strike
at the mouth of the river Humber, while we land in the south country.
It is easier so."
And it was. For the old story-tellers say that Harold of England
marched with his army, night and day, to meet the raiders of Tostig;
and with twenty of his house-guards he rode far ahead, hoping to meet
and have peace with his brother and save England. Almost he succeeded,
also, for he gave him a brother's welcome, a brother's love; promised
him lands and a share in government; and Tostig was well-nigh
persuaded. But he was in bad company. He had brought over this band of
cutthroats, with the greatest of them all at their head, under promise
of unlimited plunder. And now what about them? So he had to put the
question to his brother.
"What shall be the share of my--friend, Harold Hardrada, who has come
so far for me?" Then, they say, Harold of England gave a right royal
answer. What was to be the share of this pirate?
"Seven feet of English ground for a grave. Or, as he is said to be a
very tall man, perhaps we can allow him a little more."
If you would like to know more about Harold Hardrada, and what he did
in his youth among the Turks at Constantinople, you can read a great
deal in Sir Walter Scott's novel, "Count Robert of Paris," some of
which, perhaps, is true. But, great fighter though he was, now was the
time for his last battle; and on September 25, 1066, at Stamford-
bridge, Harold of England met him and put him into the "seven feet of
English ground" which he had promised him. It was a great victory, yet
a sad one; for Tostig had refused the terms and fell fighting against
his own countrymen, to be buried with the pirates whom he had
captained. And in the South at Pevensey, four days later, William was
landing.
Down came Harold from his victory, weary with fighting, weary with
marching, yet sternly earnest to drive back the invaders and save the
land from being harried, if he could. But October was half through
before he met them at Hastings. All day long, on the 14th, they
fought, and Harold held his own, though with the smaller army. Each
man knew his place, and kept it, and William found them a wall of
iron. At last his captains passed the word for a false retreat. The
Saxons of Harold, with cheers, broke ranks to pursue, when round
wheeled the Normans like hawks and plunged among them. Then came the
crashing of battle-axe on helmet, and like a long, slow wave, the
Norman line swept onward and the Saxon helms went down. A brief check
around the summit of a hill, where Harold and his guards had rallied,
--then arrows sped in flights upward to fall straight down among them.
Their ranks were broken. And one by one each fell like a soldier in
soldierly fashion where he stood with the loved captain among them.
Just as, eight hundred years afterward in America fell the blue-clad
soldiers around their general, Custer, fighting the Sioux Indians on
the Western plains.
Thus William the Conqueror began to conquer England, and when he ended
England was his own. Everywhere his captains built their castles, and
where that captain was a Thorfin it was bad for the land. Still, now
and then there was an Ulf among them, or one like him, who knew better
how to govern; and all was well with them and theirs for many days.
Do you care to know what next the fragments of our Star beheld?
SPARK X.
HOW THE STAR SANG A SONG OF FREEDOM TO A CAPTIVE KING.
Once again all England was under one King. It was a sad time for the
English, for the word of the Northman was the law, and wherever there
seemed need for it, a grim, gray castle towered up solidly above the
forest, with a great ditch, called a moat, dug around it; and behind
that water and those walls of stone lived Normans, as they now were
called.