The Long Hunt (The Strongbow Saga) (19 page)

"Tell me more about these pirates," Hastein said.

"Oeland is a long island that lies a short distance off-shore from the coastline of Gotarland.  It is roughly halfway between here and Birka. From what we have heard, there are several ships of the pirates, and they have made a base on or near the island. I should think it unlikely they will trouble you, because of the strength of your war-band you are traveling with. I expect that they seek easier prey. But the men you pursue…" Arinbjorn shrugged. "Two longships, with only light crews to defend them, would make a tempting prize."

My heart sank at Arinbjorn's words. I knew Toke. If pirates had attacked his ships, he would not surrender to them— he would fight. And if he were badly outnumbered, he would almost certainly lose, and likely be killed. If so, my quest for vengeance might be ended. That, at least, would be a good thing. But what of Sigrid? What would happen to her, if the pirates took her?

We departed Mon before mid-day. As was customary, Hastein and Jarl Arinbjorn exchanged gifts at their parting. Hastein gave our host an ornate helm covered with engravings and inlaid with gold, which he had found in Count Robert's quarters in the island fortress in Paris. It was obviously intended more for show than war, but it made a fine gift. In return, Arinbjorn gave Hastein a very thick, long cloak that was dyed a deep blue and decorated with red and gold embroidery along all of its edges. He also gave him a spear with a fine pattern-welded blade, wide and sharp for stabbing and cutting, and a thick, sturdy shaft. It was a spear made more for hewing with rather than throwing.

"With winter approaching, it will be cold out upon the open sea. This cloak will keep you warm," he said. "It was woven by my youngest daughter, Ingirid. She is quite skilled at the loom." His daughter, who had accompanied him to the shore to see us off, looked demurely at the ground when her father complimented her, then raised her gaze and smiled warmly at Hastein.

Torvald chuckled and whispered, "I think Arinbjorn hopes Hastein will be the one who will take the last of his daughters off his hands. He paired her with Hastein at the feast, as his horn partner. The girl is certainly fair, and it
would
be a good alliance for both sides."

To my surprise, Sigurd came up to me as we were boarding the
Gull
and said, "I have a parting gift for you." He twisted a ring off of one of his fingers, and handed it to me. It was silver and had been cast in the shape of a serpent, wound round and round the wearer's finger.

"It is a serpent," he explained unnecessarily, and pointed at his eye. "It is my sign."

"I thank you," I said. I felt awkward, for a gift in return was expected, but I did not know what to give him. I had not planned for this.

Reaching into my quiver, I pulled out an arrow and gave it to Sigurd. "This is the arrow with which I felled the Frankish warrior who almost killed your father, Ragnar, in the great battle in Frankia. May it bring you luck, and whenever you shoot it, always fly true."

In truth, I did not know if the arrow I gave him was the same one I had slain that Frank with. I had many arrows whose feathers were lashed to the shaft with the same color of thread. But Sigurd did not know that, and although an arrow seemed a poor exchange for a silver ring, he looked pleased with the gift.

It was a clear day and we had fair winds. After exiting the mouth of the channel between Mon and Sjaelland, Torvald, who was manning the
Gull
's steer-board, set a course bearing to the east and slightly north. Ahead of us I could see only the endless rippling waves of the open sea. Behind, the high white cliffs along Mon's eastern coastline remained visible long after the rest of that island, and Sjaelland to the north, had sunk from view as though swallowed up by the wide waters of the Austmarr, the Eastern Sea.

The brief layover on Mon, and the generous feast provided by Jarl Arinbjorn the night before, had left all aboard the
Gull
—even those still feeling the effects of too much ale—in good spirits. For the first time since we had begun our voyage, those aboard the ship seemed to be a single company, rather than three separate groups of warriors: Hastein's men, the carls from the estate, and those from the village. Tore announced loudly for all to hear than while Ragnar Logbrod himself might have given me the name Strongbow while we were fighting down in the land of the Franks, to him I could only be known from this day on as Halfdan Cabbage-Slayer. Everyone—even the brothers Floki and Baug, from the estate—laughed and shouted, "Hail, Cabbage-Slayer!"

Dusk had fallen by the time we approached land again. The coastline of Skane showed as a low shadow against the darkening sky. The old moon had died, and a new moon had not yet grown in the night's womb, leaving only the dim light provided by the stars to cut the blackness. We rowed the ships toward shore slowly and cautiously, as lookouts in the bows threw out weighted lines to test the water's depth and tried to see what dangers might lie ahead, concealed by the darkness.

From the
Serpent
, Stig called out, "Hastein! It is no good. We cannot see a thing."

By now we were close enough to the shore for the water to be no deeper than Torvald was tall, but we still could not tell whether the shore ahead was rocky or a sandy beach. "You are right, Stig," Hastein replied. "It is too dangerous. We will anchor here for the night."

We set anchors from the
Gull
'sbow and stern while the crew of the
Serpent
, lying nearby, did the same, then we rigged tent-like shelters over the two ships' decks with their sails and awnings. Due to the lateness of the hour and the fact that Cullain could not build a fire ashore to cook on, our night meal was a cold, meager one: smoked herring and pieces of hard, dry bread from the new stores Cullain and Torvald had acquired from the village on Mon.

Neither the bow nor the stern were covered by the tenting, and most of the crew gathered in those two areas to eat in the open, under the canopy of stars that filled the night sky overhead. I pushed my sea chest against the ship's side to make room for others, and sat on the deck beside it, my back resting against the strakes of the hull.

Hrodgar walked past carrying his dinner, heading toward the small raised deck in the stern where Hastein and Torvald were sitting. When he saw me he paused, then asked, "May I join you?"

"Of course," I answered.

"I will sit on your sea chest, if you do not mind." After he had settled himself there, he said, "I am glad I finally had the opportunity to see you shoot your bow this morning. I have heard tales about it from Einar, of course." He chuckled. "Cabbage-Slayer. That was a good jest. But the speed and accuracy with which you shot was a fine thing to see. Your father, Hrorik, would have been proud of the warrior you have become. It is a shame he did not live to see it."

"If he had lived, I would not be a warrior," I replied. "I would still be one of his thralls."

Hrodgar was silent for a long time. In the dark, I could not make out the expression on his face. Finally he let out a long sigh, and said, "Ah. Yes. I had forgotten about that."

What Hrodgar had said to me was kind. I hoped my reply had not sounded churlish. "It is difficult for me to think of Hrorik as a father," I told him, trying to soften my earlier words, "for I never knew him as such." After a few moments, I added. "I thank you for speaking for me this morning to Jarl Arinbjorn."

"Hunh," he replied. "It was clear that he believed you had tried to trick his men so Torvald could win their silver. His feelings were understandable, but unjust. That is not a thing you would do. A man who believed that honor and fairness required him to pay me for killing my hounds, although I had sent them to help hunt him down, would not engage in the kind of petty trickery Arinbjorn suspected."

I was surprised that Hrodgar placed such import on my regret for having killed his hounds. He had been deceived by Toke into offering them to help track a man whom he believed had aided in the massacre up on the Limfjord. I had not blamed him for helping Toke's men hunt me, and had not wished him to suffer loss because of it.

"Have you ever sailed across the Austmarr?" I asked him.

Hrodgar shook his head. "I have not traveled widely. Some men are strongly called by the Viking life. They desire the wealth and adventure that raiding—successful raiding—can bring, and have little use for a life of peace. Jarl Hastein is such a man. But going i-viking was never a hunger in me. I find more pleasure in my family, my home, my village, than in the thought of stealing someone else's silver. I have no need for that kind of wealth, or to sail to distant lands. I prefer to see the changing seasons upon the Limfjord, and the rewards each brings. Seeing new lambs born to my ewes in the spring, hearing the wild geese sing as they cross the sky in the evening, such things are my wealth. I will fight if need be, and my spear has drunk blood more than once, but the life of a warrior has not been mine, and I do not regret it."

"Then why did you join in the attack against the Franks? Why do you sail on this voyage?"

"There are things a man must sometimes do even if he has no desire to do them. King Horik sent out the war arrow, calling upon all Danes to join in the attack against the Franks, our enemies. It is a scot that our kings rarely demand, but when they do, it is the duty of all free men to respond. It has happened two times before, that I am aware of. My father answered the war arrow when the Franks' King Louis attacked our lands, but was driven off by the bravery of our warriors. And in the time of my father's father, King Godfred called the Danes to rally in the south of Jutland to repair and strengthen the Danevirke, and defend it and our lands from a mighty Frankish army led by their King Charles, who was a great killer of men. The Saxons who lived to the south of Jutland fell to his armies after a long and bloody war, and now their folk are scattered or enslaved and their lands belong to the Franks. But we are Danes, and no foreign king will ever take our freedom or our lands. It is a lesson it seems we must teach the Franks and their kings time and again."

"What of this voyage? Why have you left your home behind for it?" What I truly wondered, but did not ask, was,
Why did you choose to follow this path when your wife returned from the land of the dead to warn you it will cost you your life?

"You father, Hrorik, was a fine man. Although I saw him only rarely after he moved to his great estate far to the south of the Limfjord, when we were younger men we were comrades. And his son, Harald—your brother—was a fine man, too. I would not have Harald's murder and the slaughter of the folk of the farm up on the Limfjord go unavenged. I feel I owe a blood debt to Hrorik's line, and do not wish to leave it unpaid. But for the courage of Hrorik's older brother, my village might have fallen to Gotar and Svear raiders, and my wife and children might have been carried off and ended their lives in slavery."

I nodded. "Einar told me about the attack."

"My body is aging and grows weaker with each passing year. There are not many winters left in it. This thing—helping you find Toke, and kill him—will repay my debt, and is a good way to use whatever time is left to me. I have lived a long life and I am satisfied with it. All I wish for now is a good death."

Hrodgar took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Your own life, though brief so far, has been a strange one. I have never known, nor even heard of, any man who was born a thrall but went on to become a warrior, and a very fine one, at that." He paused for a few moments, then continued. "I have never owned thralls. No one in my village has. We are simple folk. May I ask…does it anger you that you were a slave?"

His question startled me, and at first I was taken aback by it. But I knew Hrodgar meant no offense.

"When I was still a slave, it angered me greatly," I replied.

"You did not think it was your fate and accept it?"

"I gave no thought to things like fate, and the Norns, when I was a slave. The carls of the estate, and especially Hrorik—the man who sired me, but was never my father—were no different from me, but they were free, and could live whatever lives they chose, whereas I was merely property. The free women could choose whom they would wed, but my mother, who once was a princess in Ireland, had no right to refuse Hrorik whenever he wished to enter her bed and use her for his pleasure. She, too, was merely his property, and had no rights. Would such things not anger you?"

Hrodgar did not answer my question. Instead, he said, "The past is the past, and cannot be changed. Your own past—including that you were once a thrall—is part of what has shaped you into the man you have become. Iron must be beaten with the hammer and burned in the fire to become steel. You have grown into a fierce warrior and a fine man. I hope your past will not always anger you."

*   *   *

We sailed due east all of the next day, following the coastline of Skane. By day's end, we reached the point Arinbjorn had told us of where the land fell away to the north. From here on, we would be beyond Danish waters.

It turned out that Stig had sailed this way many years before, when he was a young man. "I was in the crew of a ship on a trading voyage," he told Hastein. "Our captain had never sailed the Austmarr before, so he followed the shoreline, as we have been doing. I remember this part of the voyage—I remember that after leaving Skane behind, the shoreline turned to the north. We eventually discovered that the shoreline gradually curved around and formed a huge bay, beyond which it turned north again. On our return voyage, instead of following the shore we sailed straight across the mouth of the bay and saved considerable time."

"How long will it take, sailing straight across?" Hastein asked.

"Just one day. With any decent winds at all, if we make an early start we will make land on the far side by evening."

"What course would we need to follow to sail straight across?" Torvald asked.

"North by east."

What Stig remembered proved true. As evening approached the following day, we reached a cluster of islands lying off the mainland and made camp for the night on the outermost one. A marshy inlet lay a short distance down from where we pulled the prows of the
Gull
and the
Serpent
up onto the beach. From the honking we could hear coming from it, it was apparent that many wild geese were nesting there. Einar and I looked at each other, grinned, and headed that way with our bows.