Читать книгу Viking's Sunset - Henry Treece - Страница 6

Table of Contents

The days passed as Harald’s ship, Long Snake, drew in and out of the fjords seeking Haakon Redeye, and each day brought wild-haired villagers running down to the shore, shaking their heads, saying that Haakon had not stayed there, but had passed on north, and north again.

One grey-headed jarl waded into the green waters of Langfjord and shouted, ‘They passed this way a day since, the wind in their red and blue sails, ship laden to waterline with plunder. You must needs row harder, Harald Sigurdson, to catch that wolf by the tail. I doubt you’ll not find him in Norway. He’ll be gone to the far north, to Isafjord Deep, or to Vatnsfjord. He’ll be gone to where the white fox runs and the walrus snorts, mark my word.’

So Long Snake turned about once more, and headed northwards.

Harald stood by Grummoch, near the steer-boardman.

‘I swear by the fingers of two hands that I will not give up this chase until Haakon or I lie stark,’ he said.

Grummoch said, ‘There is not a man aboard who will not sail with you to Iceland, or to Midgard itself, Harald. Ask them and see.’

Then Harald spoke to the vikings.

‘Who will turn back?’ he said. ‘Who will go back to eat fresh meat and lie snug under the blankets? Let any such man speak now and I will set him ashore with an axe in his hand and money in his pouch to make his way back to the village. Speak now or forever hold your peace.’

Then the seamen turned towards Harald and shook their axes above their heads.

‘Who goes back now is a nithing,’ one called out. ‘Do you wish to insult us, Sigurdson?’

Harald answered, ‘Thorfinn Thorfinnson, I would as soon insult your namesake, Thor, himself. From now on, I shall ask that question no more. Let us sail onwards, and whosoever comes alive out of this quest, let the skalds name him a hero of the folk.’

Then Thorfinn Thorfinnson began to beat with a hammer on the floorboard to set the rowing-time, and all backs bent to the oars. And as they rowed, Thorfinn sang an old song which they all knew:

‘Makers of widows, wander we must;

Killers ‘tween seedtime and salting of kine;

Walking the Whale’s Way, sailing the Swan’s Path,

Daring the Sun’s Track, tricking dark death!

In jaws of the storm, jesting we stand,

Lashed with hail’s fury, hand frozen to line;

Numb head rain-shaken, sharp spume in the nostril,

Salt caking hair--and blood’s haven in sight!’

All the men joined in, feeling once more the sharp splash of the water on their faces, breathing deep of the salt-laden air after the long winter ashore.

And many that day blessed Haakon Redeye for giving them the excuse to sail again and to leave the barley field and the pig-sty.

Late that night, on a little skerry of stones that hardly poked above the sea’s level, they heard a man crying out to them. As they drew nearer the voice, they saw that big white sea birds circled over the rocks, as though to threaten the man who clung there so desperately.

As they came alongside, they saw a man dressed in an old horsehide clinging to the stones, too weak to draw himself up away from the sea’s hands.

Harald called out, ‘What man are you?’

And the man answered weakly, ‘I am Havlock Ingolfson, master. Haakon Redeye had me flung into the sea because I wanted my share of the plunder now and not when we reached Isafjord Deep. Save me, I beg you.’

Harald said, ‘Were you with the men who burned Sigurdson’s Steading three days ago?’

The man said, ‘Aye, master, and a fine burning we made of it. Take me aboard and I will tell you the story. It will make you smile, I warrant you.’

Then Harald took his axe in his hand and for a while seemed about to leap into the water and put an end to this rogue. But at last he turned away and said to the rowers, ‘Why should I hurry his end? Let the Dark Ones who weave our web have their way with him. Set course to northwards again, my seacocks!’

So Long Snake passed on, and soon the wretch began to yell out again as the sea birds came back and swirled over him in the dusk.

And at last the men on Long Snake heard him crying out no more.

That night they lay out in open sea, three leagues off land, with the top-cover down over the roof-slats, and their sheep-skins about them.

And as Harald paced the deck, unable to sleep for the thought of his revenge, he thought the mists before the longship parted and a woman wearing a winged helmet and carrying a shield stood upon the prow looking down at him, smiling strangely.

Harald said, ‘What have you come to tell me, Shield-maiden? Speak out in clear words for I am afraid of nothing now.’

Then the Shield-maiden spoke and her voice was like the splintering of icicles and sometimes like the swishing that the gannet makes as he falls out of the cold sky.

She said, ‘Harald Sigurdson, I have come to bring no message, but only to look on your face, so that I shall know you again.’

Then Harald said, ‘Why should you need to know me, Shield-maiden? Are you to bring my doom upon me?’

Then the grey misty shape seemed to laugh, with a sound like the grey seals mourning on some lonely skerry out beyond Iceland.

And at last she said, ‘We do not answer the questions of men. We do the bidding of the gods only.’

Harald Sigurdson said, ‘Many a time have I heard of you doomsters, yet never have I seen you before, though I have lain helpless in the deep sea off the Western Isles with my body numb and my mind gone from me.’

The woman said, ‘We come but once, to be seen by men. And when we come the second time, they do not see us.’

Then Harald said, ‘I understand, Shield-maiden. I see that I have done something wrong. I will not ask you what it was, for I think I know now. I should not have left that wretch on the skerry for the seas to drown and the birds to eat.’

Then the Shield-maiden seemed to nod her head and whispered, ‘When the winds howl over the lonely nesses and the snow beats across the frozen inlets, you will remember him, remember Havlock Ingolfson, who lived wrong but died right.’

Harald said, ‘I will turn the ship round to find him, Shield-maiden.’

But she only laughed and whispered, ‘Too late. Too late ...’

And then, as Harald went forward to see her more clearly, she faded back from the tall prow and into the rocking sea.

So Harald shrugged his shoulders and then went back to the stern shelter and wrapped his blanket about him and fell into a numbed sleep, which lasted him until the dawn.