RÖGNVALD CONQUERS THE DRÓMUND.
WHEN the men in the Drómund saw the ships pulling towards them, to
attack them, they spread fine clothing and costly stuffs out on the
bulwarks, and made a great shouting, which the Earl’s men took as a
challenge. Earl Rögnvald brought his ship close under the stem of the
Drómund, on the starboard side. Erling did the same on the larboard
side. Jón and Aslák brought theirs under her bows, and the others
amidships on either side, all sticking as close to her as possible. But
when they came close under the Drómund, she was so high in the side that
the Northmen were unable to use their weapons, and the others poured
blazing brimstone and burning pitch over them; but most of it fell
outside the ships, as Erling had foreseen, and they had no need to
shield themselves from it. However, when the attack did not succeed, the
Bishop moved away his ship and two others, and they told off their
bowmen to go in them. After having got to a convenient distance for
shooting, they shot their arrows into the Drómund, and this was the most
effective mode of attack. The men in the Drómund protected themselves
with their shields, and paid little heed to what those were doing who
were in the ships close under the Drómund.
Earl Rögnvald then ordered his men to take their axes, and cut the
planks of the Drómund, where the iron fastenings were fewest; and when
the men in the other ships saw what the Earl’s men were doing, they did
the same. Now, where Erling had stationed himself, there was a large
anchor hanging from the Drómund, which had its fluke hooked over the
gunwale, but the shank hung down towards Erling’s ship. One of his
forecastle men was named Andun Raudi (red); he was lifted up on the
anchor-stock, and then he pulled up others. Standing there as close as
they could, they hacked away at the planks with all their might; and
this was far higher than the others could reach. When they had made an
opening large enough to admit them, they prepared to board the Drómund.
The Earl and his men entered on the lower deck, and Erling and his men
on the upper; and when they both got in, there began to be severe
fighting. Those in the Drómund were Saracens, whom we call Mahometan
infidels. There were also many black men, who withstood them most
fiercely. Erling received a severe wound in the neck, near the shoulder,
when he jumped on board; it healed so badly that he carried his head to
a side ever after, and therefore he was called crick-neck (Skakki).
When Earl Rögnvald and Erling joined each other, the Saracens were
driven to the forepart of the ship; and the Earl’s men boarded one after
another until they were more numerous, and then they pressed the enemy
hard. In the Drómund they saw one man far superior to the others in
appearance and stature, and they were persuaded that he must be their
chief. Earl Rögnvald ordered his men not to wound him, if they could
seize him in any other way. Then they surrounded him, and pressed him
with their shields, and thus caught him. He and a few others with him
were sent to the Bishop’s ship. All the rest they killed, and obtained
great booty and many precious things. When they had finished the hardest
part of their work, they sat down and rested, and the Earl sang:
At the spreading of the banner,
Erling, mighty tree of battle,
Went to victory and honour
Foremost when we fought the Drómund;
Then we felled the black-skinned fighters;
Everywhere the blood ran streaming,
And the keen-edged swords were reddened
As we hewed among the heathen.
We have had our fill of slaughter,
Round us lie the heaps of corpses;
Gory swords have been red-painting
At the Drómund all this morning;
Soon the news will spread to northward
Of this furious sword-tempest;
It will soon be known at Verbon,
How we dealt death-blows this morning.
There was much talk about what had been done; every one told what he had
seen. Then they talked of who had been the first to board, but were not
all of one opinion. Some said it would not be creditable to them if they
did not all relate this great exploit in the same way. At last they all
agreed to let Earl Rögnvald decide, and every one should afterwards tell
the story in the same way as he did. Then the Earl sang:
Audun Raudi was the man who
First, with energy and valour,
Scaled the black sides of the Drómund;
Soon the brave one seized his booty.
By the help of God’s good favour
Have we overcome the heathen;
Steeped our swords are all in red blood;
Round us lie the sable corpses.
When they had cleared the Drómund, they set it on fire. When the big man
whom they had taken prisoner saw this, he changed colour and became
pale, and could not keep himself still. But though they tried to make
him speak, he did not say a word, neither did he make any kind of sign;
he was immovable to fair promises and menaces alike. But when the
Drómund began to blaze up, they saw a glowing stream, as it were, run
into the sea. At this the captive man was greatly moved. They concluded
that they had not made a careful search for the money, and now the
metal, whether gold or silver, had melted in the fire.
Then Earl Rögnvald and his men sailed south, under Serkland, and lay off
a certain town of Serkland, and had seven nights’ truce with the men of
the town, and sold them silver and other valuables. No one would buy the
big man; and then the Earl gave him leave to go away with four men. He
came back on the morning after, with his men, and told them that he was
a nobleman of Serkland, and that he had been ransomed from there with
the Drómund and all its contents. “It grieved me most,” he said, “that
you should burn it, and thus destroy so much treasure, without any one’s
having the benefit of it. Now you are in my power, but it counts for
your benefit with me that you spared my life, and did me such honour as
you could. But I would gladly never see you again, and now may you live
hale and well.” Then he rode away into the country.
Earl Rögnvald sailed to Crete, and anchored in a strong gale. When Armod
kept watch during the night, he sang:
Lie we now, where stormy billows
Break above the sturdy bulwarks;
My lot is to keep the watch well,
On this wave-surmounting seahorse;
While the lads are snugly sleeping,
I, to Crete, look o’er my shoulder.
They lay off Crete until they had fair wind to Jórsalir (Jerusalem), and
arrived early on a Friday morning at Akursborg (Acre). They went on
shore with great pomp and splendour, such as seldom had been seen there.
Thorbiörn Svarti sang:
Oft have I, with comrades hardy,
Been in battle, in the Orkneys,
When the feeder of the people
Led his forces to the combat.
Now our trusty Earl we follow,
As we carry up our bucklers
Gaily to the gates of Acre
On this joyful Friday morning.
They stayed in Akursborg for a while, and a disease broke out among
their men, of which many died. Thorbiörn Svarti died there. Oddi Litli
sang:
Bravely bore the Baron’s vessels
Thorbiörn Svarti, scald and comrade,
As he trod the sea-king’s highway,
Round by Thrasness, south to Acre.
There I saw them heap the grave-mould
Of the High Church o’er the King’s friend.
Earth and stones now lies he under
In that southern land of sunshine.
Earl Rögnvald and his men left Akursborg, and visited all the holiest
places of Jorsalaland. They went all to Jordan and bathed. Earl Rögnvald
and Sigmund Ongul swam across the river, and went to some shrubs and
tied large knots.[382] The Earl sang:
Long the way is I have travelled
To this heath, enclosed by deserts,
And the wise maid will remember,
Too, my crossing over Jordan.
Seems to me, that those who tarry
At their homesteads, will not find it
A short journey here to travel.
Warm the blood falls on the wide plain.
Then Sigmund sang:
This day I have tied a strong knot
For the churlish clown that’s sitting
By the home-hearth; ’tis no falsehood
That we play him now a fine trick.
The Earl sang:
On this feast-day of St. Lawrence,
Tie we knots for this fine fellow.
Tired I came to this nice corner,
Where the shrubs grow close together.
And when they were going from Jorsalaland Earl Rögnvald sang:
From the scald’s neck hangs the cross now,
In his hand a palm he carries.
Now should cease unkindly feelings:
From the heights my men rush downwards.
During the summer Earl Rögnvald and his men left Jorsalaland, and were
going to Mikligard. In the autumn they came to a town called
Imbolum,[383] and stayed there a long time. When two persons met where
the street was crowded, and one of them thought it necessary to go to
one side, he cried out to the other, “Midway, midway!” One evening the
Earl’s men, among whom was Erling Skakki, walked from the town, and on
the bridge leading to the ship, some inhabitants of the town met them,
and cried out, “Midway, midway!” Erling was very drunk, and pretended
not to hear it; and when they met, he jumped from the bridge into the
mud; his men ran to his assistance, and dragged him out, and had to
undress him completely. Next morning, when the Earl saw him, and was
told what had happened, he smiled and sang:
Bad the luck my friend has met with;
In the mud he tumbled, splashing;
As he would not cry out “Midway!”
Loudly, like the foreign people.
I suppose the prince’s brother,
When upset, looked rather rueful.
Black the mud that on the ground is
In Imbol, as Erling knoweth.
Some time after, it happened that they came from the town very drunk,
and Jón Fót was missed by his men, and no one else was missing. They
sent immediately to the other ships to search for him, but he was not
found. They could not search for him on shore during the night; but in
the morning, when it was daylight, they found him murdered under the
wall of the town; but it was never known who had slain him. They buried
him honourably at a holy church, and then they went away, and came north
to Ægisness,[384] and there they waited some nights for a fair wind to
sail to Mikligard. They made their ships look splendidly, and sailed
with great pomp, as they knew Sigurd Jorsalafari had done. While they
were crossing the sea northward the Earl sang this song:
Let us ride the sea-king’s horses,
Leave the plough in field untouched.
As we drive the wet prows onward
All the way to Mikligard.
There we’ll take the royal bounty,
Paid for wielding well our weapons,
While we fill the wolf’s red palate,
And on battlefields win honour.