It was Beorn who woke me. Out of his swoon, or whatever it was that had taken his senses, he woke with a start and shudder that brought me from sleep at once, thinking that the boat had touched ground. But there was no land in sight now, and all around me was the wide circle of the sea, and over against me Beorn, my evil companion, glowering at me with a great fear written on his face.
Now as I woke and saw him, my hand went at once to the dagger at my side, as my first waking thoughts felt troubled by reason of all he had done, though it was but for a moment. Thereat he cried out, praying me to have mercy on him, and tried to rise, going near to capsize the boat. Indeed, I cannot believe that the man had ever been in a boat before.
"Lie down," I said, speaking sharply, as to a dog, "or you will drown us both before the time!"
He was still enough then, fearing the water more than steel, as it seemed, or seeing that I meant him no harm.
Then I spoke plainly to him.
"I will harm you not. But your life is in my hands in two ways. I can slay you by water or dagger for one thing; or for another, I think I can take this boat to shore at some place where you are not known, and so let you live a little longer. And in any case I have a mind to try to save my own life; thus if you will obey me so that I may tend the boat, yours shall be saved with it, so far as I am concerned. But if you hinder me, die you must in one way or another!"
Now he saw well enough that his only hope lay in my power to take the boat safely across the water, and so promised humbly to obey me in all things if I would but spare him and get the boat to shore quickly. So I unbound him and coiled the rope at my feet again, bidding him lie down amidships and be still.
Many a time men have asked me why I slew him not, or cast him not overboard, thus being troubled no more with him. Most surely I would have slain him when we fought, in the white heat of anger--and well would it have been if Ulfkytel had doomed him to death, as judge. But against this helpless, cringing wretch, whose punishment was even now falling on him, how could I lift hand? It seemed to me, moreover, that I was, as it were, watching to see when the stroke of doom would fall on him, as the earl said it surely must on the guilty.
The wind freshened, and the boat began to sing through the water, for it needed little to drive her well. My spirits rose, so that I felt almost glad to be on the sea again, but Beorn waxed sick and lay groaning till he was worn out and fell asleep.
Now the breeze blew from the southwest, warm and damp, as it had held for a long time during this winter, which was open and mild so far. And this was driving us over the same track which Lodbrok had taken as he came from his own place. There was no hope of making the English shore again, and so I thought it well to do even as the jarl, and rear up the floorboards in such wise as to use them for a sail to hasten us wherever we might go.
So I roused Beorn, and showed him how to bestow himself out of my way, and made sail, as one might say. At once the boat seemed to come to life, flying from wave to wave before the wind, and I made haste to ship the long oar, so that I could steer her with it.
And when I went aft, there, in the sharp hollow of the stern that I had uncovered, lay two great loaves and a little breaker of water. Now I could not tell, and do not know even to this day, what kindly man hid these things for us, but I blessed him for his charity, for now our case was better than Lodbrok's in two ways, that we had no raging gale and sea to wrestle against, and the utmost pangs of hunger and thirst we were not to feel. Three days and two nights had he been on his voyage. We might be a day longer with this breeze, but the bread, at least, we need not touch till tomorrow. But Beorn slept heavily again, and I told him not of this store as yet, for I thought that he would but turn from it just now. Which was well, for he could not bear a fast as could I.
So the long day wore through, and ever the breeze held, and the boat flew before it. Night fell, and the dim moon rose up, and still we went east and north swiftly. The long white wake stretched straight astern of us, and Beorn slept deeply, worn out; and the sea ran evenly and not very high, so that at last I dared to lash the oar in its place and sleep in snatches, waking now and then to the lift of a greater wave, or catching the rushing in my ears as some heavier-crested billow rose astern of us. But the boat was swift as the seas, and there was nothing to fear. Nor was the cold great at any time, except towards early morning before the first light of dawn. Moreover, the boat sailed in better trim with two men in her.
Gray morning came, and the seas were longer and deeper, for we were far on the wide sea. All day long was it the same, wave after wave, gray sky overhead, and the steady breeze ever bearing us onward. Once it rained, and I caught the water in the bailer and drank heartily, giving his fill to Beorn, and with it I ate some of my loaf, and he took half of his. Then slowly came night, and at last I waxed lonely, for all this while I had kept a hope that I might see the sail of Halfden's ship, but there was no glint of canvas between sky and sea, and my hope was gone as the darkness fell.
So I sang, to cheer myself, raising my voice in the sea song that I had made and that Lodbrok had loved. And when that was done I sang the song of Bosham bell, with the ending that the gleeman on Colchester Hill had made.
Thereat Beorn raised his head and, snarling at me like an angry dog, bade me cease singing of shipwreck. But I heeded him not, and so I sang and he cursed, until at last he wept like an angry child, and I held my peace.
I did not dare sleep that night, for the wind freshened, and at times we might see naught but sky above us and the waves ahead and astern of the boat, though to one who knew how to handle his craft there was no danger in them. But from time to time Beorn cried out as the boat slid swiftly down the slope of a great wave, hovered, and rose on the next, and I feared that he would leap up in his terror and end all.
"Bide still or I will bind you," I said at last to him, and he hid his face in his arms, and was quiet again.
Worn out when day broke was I, and again I ate and gave to Beorn, and he would eat all his loaf, though I bade him spare it, for I knew not how long yet we might be before we saw land. And that seemed to change his mood, and he began to scowl at me, though he dared say little, and so sat still in his place, glowering at me evilly.
Presently came a whale, spouting near us, and that terrified him, so that he cried to me to save him from it, as though I had power on the seas more than had other men. But it soon went away, and he forgot his terror, beginning to blame me for not having gained the shore yet.
I could say nothing, for I knew not how far we had run; yet we had come a long way, and I thought that surely we must have sailed as swiftly as Lodbrok, for the sea had favoured us rather than given trouble. Even now I thought the colour of the water changed a little, and I began to think that we neared some land at last.
As the sun set, the wind shifted more to the westward, and I thought a change was coming. It was very dark overhead until the waning moon rose.
Now, soon after moonrise Beorn began to groan, in his sleep as I thought; but presently he rose up, stiffly, from long sitting, and I saw that his eyes were flashing, and his face working strangely in the pale moonlight. I bade him lie down again, but he did not, and then I saw that he was surely out of his mind through the terror of the sea and the long nothingness of the voyage to which he was all unused. Then he made for me with a shout, and I saw that I must fight for my life. So I closed with him and dragged him down to the bottom of the boat, and there we two struggled, till I thought that the end was come.
The boat plunged and listed, and once was nearly over, but at that new strength came to me, and at last I forced his shoulders under the midship thwart, and held him there so that he could by no means rise. Then all his fury went, and he became weak, so that I reached out with one hand for the line and bound him easily, hand and foot. I set him back in his place, and the water washed over his face as he lay, for we had shipped a good deal in the lurches our struggle caused. Then he was still, and as on the first night, seemed to sleep, breathing very heavily.
So I left him bound, and bailed the water out. Then knew I how weak I was. Yet I held on, steering from wave to wave as though I could not help it.
Once, towards morning, there came a booming in my ears, and a faintness, for I was all but done. But the boat dashed into a wave, and the cold spray flew over me and roused me to know the danger, so I took my last crust and ate it, and was refreshed a little.
But when the morning broke cold and gray over brown waves, there, against one golden line of sunlight, rose the black steady barrier of a low-lying coast, and round the boat the gulls were screaming their welcome.
Then came over me a dull fear that I should be lost in sight of land, and a great sorrow and longing for the English shore in place of this, for never had I seen sunrise over land before from the open sea, and hunger and thirst gnawed at me, and I longed for rest from this tossing of sea, and wave--and always waves. Then I looked in Beorn's evil face, and I thought that he was dead, but that to me seemed to matter not.
Swiftly rose up the coast from out the sea, and I saw that it was like our East Anglian shore, forest covered and dark, but with pine and birch instead of oak and alder. The boat was heading straight through a channel; past sands over which I could see the white line of the tide on either side, and that chance seemed not strange to me, but as part of all that was to be and must be.
Then the last rollers were safely past, and the boat's keel grated on sand--and I forgot my weakness, and sprang out into the shallow water, dragging her up with the next wave and out of reach of the surges.
Then I saw that the tide was falling, and that I had naught more to do, for we were safe. With that I gave way at last, and reeled and fell on the sand, for my strength could bear no more, and I deemed that I should surely die.
I think that I fell into a great sleep for a while, for I came to myself presently, refreshed, and rose up.
The tide had ebbed a long way, and the sun was high above me, so that I must have been an hour or two there upon the sand. I went and looked at Beorn.
His swoon seemed to have passed into sleep, and I unbound him, and as I did so he murmured as if angry, though he did not wake.
Then I thought that I would leave him there for some other to find, and try to make my way to house or village where I might get food. I could send men thence to seek him, but I cared not if I never set eyes on him again, hoping, indeed, that I should not do so.
So I turned and walked inland through the thin forest for a little way, stumbling often, but growing stronger and less stiff as I went, though I must needs draw my belt tight to stay the pangs of hunger, seeing that one loaf is not overmuch for such a voyage and such stern work as mine had been, body and mind alike unresting.
Nor had I far to go, for not more than a mile from shore I saw a good hut standing in a little clearing; and it was somewhat like our own cottages, timber-framed, with wattle and clay walls, but with thatch of heather instead of our tall reeds, and when I came near, I saw that the timber was carved with twisted patterns round door and window frames.
No dog came out at me, and no one answered when I called, and so at last I lifted the latch and went in. There was no one, but the people could not be far off, for meat and bread and a great pitcher of ale stood on the round log that served for table, as if the meal was set against speedy homecoming, and the fire was banked up with peats, only needing stirring to break into a blaze.
Rough as it all was, it looked very pleasant to me, and after I had called once or twice I sat down, even as I should have done in our own land, and ate a hearty meal, and drank of the thin ale, and was soon myself again. I had three silver pennies, besides the gold bracelet on my arm that I wore as the king's armour bearer and weapon thane, and was sure of welcome, so when I had done I sat by the fire and waited till someone should come whom I might thank.
Once I thought of carrying food to Beorn, but a great hatred and loathing of the man and his deed came over me, and I would not see him again. And, indeed, it was likely that he would come here also, as I had done, when he woke; so that when at last I heard footsteps I feared lest it should be he.
But this comer whistled cheerfully as he came, and the tune was one that I had often heard men sing when I was with Halfden. It was the old "Biarkamal", the song of Biark the Viking.
Now at that I was very glad, for of all things I had most feared lest I should fall on the Frisian shores, for if so, I should surely be made a slave, and maybe sold by the lord of the coast to which I came. But Danes have no traffic in slaves, holding freedom first of all things. And that is one good thing that the coming of the Danish host has taught to us, for many a Saxon's riches came from trading in lives of men.
Then the door was pushed open, for I had left it ajar, and in came a great dog like none we have in England. I thought him a wolf at first, so gray and strong was he, big enough and fierce enough surely to pull down any forest beast, and I liked not the savage look of him. But, though he bristled and growled at first sight of me, when he saw that I sat still as if I had some right to be there, he came and snuffed round me, and before his master came we were good friends enough, if still a little doubtful. But I never knew a dog that would fly at me yet, so that I think they know well enough who are their friends, though by some sign of face or voice that is beyond my knowledge.
Now came the man, who edged through the door with a great bundle of logs for the fire, which he cast down without looking at me, only saying:
"Ho, Rolf! back again so early? Where is the Jarl?"
Now I knew that he was a Dane, and so I answered in his own way:
"Not Rolf, but a stranger who has made free with Rolf's dinner."
Whereat the man laughed, setting hands on hips and staring at me.
"So it is!" he said; "settle that matter with brother Rolf when he comes in, for strangers are scarce here."
Then he scanned my dress closely, and maybe saw that they were sea stained, though hunting gear is made for hard wear and shows little.
"Let me eat first," he said, sitting down, "and then we will talk."
But after he had taken a few mouthfuls, he asked:
"Are there any more of you about?"
"One more," I said, "but I left him asleep in the boat that brought us here. We are from the sea, having been blown here."
"Then he may bide till he wakes," the man said, going on with his meal.
Presently he stopped eating, and after taking a great draught of ale, said that he wondered the dog had not torn me.
"Whereby I know you to be an honest man. For I cannot read a man's face as some can, and therefore trust to the dog, who is never wrong," and he laughed and went on eating.
Now that set me thinking of what account I might give of myself, and I thought that I would speak the truth plainly, though there was no reason to say more than that we were blown off the English coast. What Beorn would say I knew not; most likely he would lie, but if so, things must work themselves out.
I looked at the man in whose house I was, and was pleased with him. Red haired and blue eyed he was, with a square, honest face and broad shoulders, and his white teeth shone beneath a red beard that covered half his face.
When he had eaten even more than I, he laughed loudly, saying that brother Rolf would have to go short this time, and then came and sat by the fire over against me, and waited for me to say my say.
So I told him how we had come, and at that he stared at me as our folk stared at Lodbrok, and started up, crying that he must go and see this staunch boat that had served me so well.
"Bide here and rest," he said, "and I will bring your comrade to you," and with that he swung out of the house, taking the dog with him. And at once the thought of leaving the hut and plunging into the forest came into my mind, but I knew not why I should do so, except that I would not see Beorn again. However, there was a third man now, and I would see what befell him.
Now I waited long, and had almost fallen asleep beside the warm fire, when I heard a horn away in the woods, and roused up to listen. Twice or thrice it sounded, and then I heard it answered from far off. So I supposed that there was a hunt going on.
Then I heard no more, and fell asleep in earnest; for I needed rest badly, as one might well suppose.
Something touched my hand and I awoke. It was the great dog, who came and thrust his nose against me, having made up his mind to be friendly altogether. So when his master came in I was fondling his head, and he looked puzzled.
"Say what men will," he said, "I know you are an honest man!"
"Do you hold that any will doubt it?" I asked, wondering what he meant; for he looked strangely at me.
"Aye; the jarl has found your boat, and has sent me back to keep you fast. Know you whose boat you have?"
"It belonged to Jarl Lodbrok, who came ashore in it, as I have come here--and he gave it me."
"Hammer of Thor!" said the man. "Is the jarl alive?"
"What know you of him?" I asked.
"He was our jarl--ours," he answered.
"Who is the other jarl you speak of?" I asked him, with a hope that Halfden had come home, for now I knew that we had indeed followed Lodbrok's track exactly.
"How should it be other than Ingvar Lodbroksson? for we have held that Lodbrok, his father, is dead this many a long day."
"Let me go to the jarl," I said, rising up. "I would speak with him," for I would, if possible, tell him the truth, before Beorn could frame lies that might work ill to both of us, or perhaps to me most of all. Yet I thought that I saw the shadow of judgment falling on the murderer.
"Bide quiet," said the man; "he will be here soon."
And then he said, looking from me to the dog, "Now I hold you as a true man, therefore I will tell you this--anger not the jarl when he speaks to you."
"Thanks, friend!" I answered heartily, "I think I shall not do that. Is he like his father?"
The man laughed shortly, only saying:
"Is darkness like daylight?"
"Then he is not like Jarl Halfden."
Now the honest man was going to ask in great wonder how I knew of him, when there came the quick trot of horses to the door, and a stern voice, which had in its tones somewhat familiar to me, called him:
"Raud, come forth!"
My host started up, and saying, "It is Jarl Ingvar," went to the door, while I too rose and followed him, for I would not seem to avoid meeting the son of Lodbrok, my friend.
"Where is this stranger?" said the jarl's voice; "bring him forth."
Raud turned to beckon me, but I was close to him, and came out of the hut unbidden.
There sat a great man, clad in light chain mail and helmed, with his double-headed axe slung to his saddle bow, but seeming to have come from hunting, for he carried a short, broad-pointed boar spear, and on the wrist of his bridle hand sat a hooded hawk like Lodbrok's. His face had in it a look both of his father and of Halfden, but it was hard and stern; and whereas they had brown hair, his was jet black as a raven's wing. Maybe he was ten years older than Halfden.
There were five or six other men, seemingly of rank, and on horseback also, behind him, but they wore no armour, and were in hunting gear only, and again there were footmen, leading hounds like the great one that stood by Raud and me. And two men there were who led between them Beorn, holding him lest he should fall, either from weakness or terror, close to the jarl.
So I stood before Ingvar the Jarl, and wondered how things would go, and what Beorn had said, though I had no fear of him. And as the jarl gazed at me I raised my hand, saying in the viking's greeting:
"Skoal to Jarl Ingvar!"
At that he half raised hand in answer, but checked himself, saying shortly:
"Who are you, and how come you by my father's boat?"
I was about to answer, but at that word it seemed that for the first time Beorn learnt into whose hands he had fallen, and he fell on his knees between his two guards, crying for mercy. I think that he was distraught with terror, for his words were thick and broken, and he had forgotten that none but I knew of his ill deed.
That made the jarl think that somewhat was amiss, and he bade his men bind us both.
"Bind them fast, and find my brother Hubba," he said, and men rode away into the forest. But I spoke to him boldly.
"Will you bind a man who bears these tokens, Jarl?"
And I held out my hand to him, showing him the rings that Lodbrok and Halfden had given me.
"My father's ring--and Halfden's!" he said, gripping my hand, as he looked closely at the runes upon them, so tightly that it was pain to me. "By Odin's beard, this grows yet stranger! Who are you, and whence, and how came you by these things?"
"I am Wulfric, son of Elfric, the Thane of Reedham, 'the merchant' as men call him. I have been Jarl Lodbrok's friend, and have fought by the side of Halfden, his son, as these tokens may tell you. As for the rest, that is for yourself alone, Jarl. For I have no good tidings, as I fear."
"Who is this man, then, and why cries he thus in terror?"
"Beorn, falconer to Eadmund, King of the East Angles," I said.
But I would not answer at once to the other question, and Ingvar seemed not to notice it.
Then there was silence while the great jarl sat on his horse very still, and looked hard at me and at Beorn; but when the men would have bound us he signed them back, letting Beorn go free. Whereupon his knees gave way, and he sank down against the house wall, while I leant against it and looked at the mighty Dane, somewhat dreading what I had to tell him, but meaning to go through all plainly.
Now the ring of men closed round us, staring at us, but in silence, save for the ringing of the horns that were blowing in the woods to call Hubba from his sport. And Jarl Ingvar sat still, as if carved in oak, and seemed to ponder, frowning heavily at us, though the look in his eyes went past me as it were.
Glad was I when a horseman or two rode up and reined in alongside Ingvar. I think that the foremost rider was the most goodly warrior to look on that I had ever seen, and one might know well that he was Lodbrok's son.
"Ho, brother!" he cried; "I thought you had harboured the greatest bear in all Jutland in Raud's hut. And it is naught but two strangers. What is the trouble with them?"
"Look at yon man's hand," said Ingvar.
I held out my hand, and Hubba looked at the rings, whereupon his face lit up as Halfden's had lighted, and he said:
"News of our father and brother! That is well; tell us, friend, all that you know."
"Stay," said Ingvar; "I took yon man from the boat we made for our father; he was half dead therein, and his wrists have the marks of cords on them; also when he heard my name he began to cry for mercy, and I like it not."
"This friend of our folk will tell us all," said Hubba.
"Aye," said I, "I will tell you, Jarls. But I would speak to you alone."
"Tell me," said Ingvar shortly; "came my father to your shores in yon boat alive?"
"Aye," I answered.
"And he died thereafter?"
"He died, Jarl," I said; and I said it sadly.
Then said Hubba:
"Almost had I a hope that he yet lived, as you live. But it was a poor hope. We have held him as dead for many a long day."
But Ingvar looked at Beorn fixedly, and the man shrank away from his gaze.
"How did he die, is what I would know?" he said sternly.
"Let the man to whom Halfden and Lodbrok gave these gifts tell us presently. We have enough ill news for the time. Surely we knew that the jarl was dead, and it is ours but to learn how;" said Hubba.
"How know you that these men slew not both?"
"Jarl Ingvar," I said; "I will tell you all you will, but I would do so in some less hurried way than this. For I have much to tell."
"Take the men home, brother," said Hubba; "then we can talk."
"Bind the men," said Ingvar again.
"Nay, brother, not the man who wears those rings," said Hubba quickly.
"Maybe, and it is likely, that they are ill come by, and he will make up some lie about them," answered Ingvar.
"It will be easily seen if he does," answered his brother; "wait till you know."
Ingvar reined his horse round and rode away without another word. Then Hubba bade the man Raud and his brother, a tall man who had come with the Jarl Ingvar, take charge of us until word should come from him, and then rode after Ingvar with the rest of the folk.
"Come into the house," said Raud to me. "I fear you have ill news enough, though only what we have expected."
So we went inside, and I sat in my old place beside the fire. Rolf, the brother, helped Beorn to rise, and set him on a seat in a corner where he could rest, and then we were all silent. The great dog came and sat by me, so that I stroked him and spoke to him, while he beat his tail on the floor in response.
"See you that," said one brother to the other.
"Aye; Vig says true, mostly."
"One may trust him," said Raud; telling of how Vig the dog had made friends with me at first, and he nodded in friendly wise to me, so that I would not seem to hold aloof, and spoke to him.
"That is Jarl Hubba, surely?"
"Aye, and the best warrior in all Denmark," said Raud. "We fear Ingvar, and we love Halfden; but Hubba is such a hero as was Ragnar himself."
And once set on that matter, the two honest men were unwearied in telling tales of the valour and skill of their master, so that I had no room for my own thoughts, which was as well.
Then came a man, riding swiftly, to say that the jarls had left their hunting, and that we were to be taken to the great house. Moreover, that Rolf and Raud were to be held answerable for our safe keeping. When I heard that I laughed.
"I will go willingly," I said, rising up.
"What of this man who sits silent here?" asked Rolf.
"Little trouble will be with him," said his brother.
And indeed Beorn almost needed carrying forth.
We came to the shores of a haven at a river mouth, and there we saw the town clustering round a large hall that rose in the midst of the lesser houses, which were mostly low roofed and clay walled, like that of Raud, though some were better, and built of logs set upon stone foundations. The hall stood on higher ground than the rest of the houses, so that from the gate of the heavy timber stockade that went all round it one could see all the windings of the haven channel and the sea that lay some half mile or more away at its mouth. And all the town had a deep ditch and mound round it, as if there was ever fear of foes from shoreward, for these came down to the haven banks, and the only break they had was where a wharf and the ship garth were. There were several ships housed in their long sheds, as I could see.
All round the great hall and the buildings that belonged to it was a stockade of pointed logs, so that it stood in a wide courtyard on all four sides, and the great gate of the stockade was opposite the timber porch of the hall itself. There were other doors in the side of the hall, but they were high up, and reached by ladders; and there seemed to be only one more gate in the stockade, leading landward, and both were such as might not easily be broken down, when once they were closed and barred with the square logs that stood beside the entrances ready. And all the windows of the hall were very high up and narrow, and the roof was timbered, not thatched.
This was the strongest house that I had ever seen, and I said to Raud as I looked at it:
"This place is built to stand some fierce fighting. What need have you of such strength?"
He laughed, and answered:
"Why, much need indeed! For when the ships are gone a-viking we are weak in men, so needs must have strong walls to keep out all comers from over seas. And we have an ill neighbour or two, who would fain share in our booty. However, men know in Sweden, and Finmark, and Norway also, that it is ill meddling with Jarl Ingvar and his brothers."
We passed through the stockade gate, and went straight to the porch; all the woodwork of which was carved and gaily painted, and so were eaves and rafter ends and tie beams.
Two sturdy axemen stood at the doorway, and they spoke freely to the brothers, asking questions of us and of our tale.
Then roared the voice of Jarl Ingvar from within, bidding the men cease prating and bring us in, and so we entered.
A great fire burnt in the centre of the hall, and the smoke rose up and found its way out under the eaves; and there were skins and heads of wild beasts on the wall, amid which arms and armour hung everywhere, bright in the firelight. Yet the hall, though it was carved on wall, and rafter, and doorway, was not so bright as ours at Reedham, nor so pleasant.
Ingvar and Hubba sat on one side of the fire, where the smoke was driven away from them, and before them was set a long bench where we should be placed. There Hubba bade us sit down, telling the two men to go without and wait.
So we were left face to face with those two, and I saw that Ingvar's face was dark with doubt, but that Hubba seemed less troubled. Yet both looked long and sternly at us.
"Tell us this tale of yours," said Ingvar at last; "and lie not."
Now it seemed to me that it were well to get the worst over at once without beating about beforehand. And now that the jarls knew that Lodbrok was dead, the hardest was to tell them how he died, and why I was here thus.
"Well loved I Lodbrok the Jarl, and well do I love Halfden his son," I said. "Have patience with me while I tell all from the first."
"Go on," said Ingvar, knitting his brows.
"Safely came Jarl Lodbrok to the English shores," I went on; "steering his boat through the storm as I think no other man might. And my father and I, lying at anchor for tide in our coasting ship, took him from the breakers. Some of his craft taught he me, else had I not been here today. So he bided with us until I went to sea, and there I met Halfden, and went on a raid with him, coming back from the South Saxon shores to wait at our place for his coming to take Lodbrok home. But he came not last winter, and so we waited till this spring should bring him. For my ship was lost, and no other came."
"What!" said Ingvar; "he died not of stress of storm, but lived so long! Then he has been slain!" and he half started from his seat in rage.
But Hubba, though his teeth were set, drew him back.
"Hear all," he said.
I went on without bidding, not seeming to note these things.
"The jarl and I hunted together, and the chance of the day parted us, and he was slain; nor can I say by whom. But this man and I, being found with his body, were accused of the deed. And because there was no proof, our great earl, who loves even-handed justice, would have us cast adrift, even as was Lodbrok; that the guilty might suffer, and the innocent escape."
Then Ingvar rose up, white and shaking with wrath, and drew out his sword. Whereon Beorn yelled and fell on the floor, grovelling with uplifted hands and crying for mercy.
But the great jarl paid no heed to him, and hove up the sword with both hands over my head, saying in a hoarse voice:
"Say that you lie--he is not dead--or you slew him!"
Now I think the long struggle with the sea, or my full trust in the earl's words, or both, had taken away my fear of death, for I spoke without moving, though the great blade seemed about to fall, and the fierce Dane's eyes glared on mine.
"It were easy for me to have lied; I would that I did lie, for then Lodbrok would be living, and I beside him, waiting for Halfden my friend even yet."
"Odin!" shouted Ingvar; "you speak truth. Woe is me for my father, and woe to the land that has given him a grave thus foully."
With that he let his sword fall, and his passion having gone, he sat down and put his face in his hands, and wept tears of grief and rage. And I, as I watched him, was fain to weep also, for my thoughts were akin to his.
Now Hubba had sat very still, watching all this, and he kept his feelings better than did his fierce brother, though I might well see that he was moved as deeply. But now he spurned Beorn with his foot, bidding him get up and speak also. But Beorn only grovelled the more, and Hubba spurned him again, turning to me.
"I believe you speak truth," he said quietly, "and you are a brave man. There was no need for you to tell the accusation against yourself; and many are the lies you might have told us about the boat that would have been enough for us. We never thought to hear that our father had outlived the storm."
"I speak truth, Jarl," I said, sadly enough, "and Halfden will come to our haven, seeking us both, and will find neither--only this ill news instead of all we had planned of pleasure."
Then Hubba asked me plainly of Beorn, saying:
"What of this cur?"
"No more than I have told you, Jarl," I said.
"How came he into the forest?" asked Hubba, for he saw that there was more than he knew yet under Beorn's utter terror.
"Let me tell you that story from end to end," I answered.
And he nodded, so that I did so, from the time when I left the jarl until Ulfkytel sentenced us, giving all the words of the witnesses as nearly as I could. Then I said that I would leave them to judge, for I could not.
Now Ingvar, who had sat biting his nails and listening without a word, broke in, questioning me of Halfden's ship for long. At last he said:
"This man tells truth, and I will not harm him. He shall bide here till Halfden comes home, for he tells a plain story, and wears those rings. And he has spoken the ill of himself and little of this craven, who maybe knows more than he will say. I have a mind to find out what he does know," and he looked savagely at Beorn, who was sitting up and rocking himself to and fro, with his eyes looking far away.
"Do what you will with him he will lie," said Hubba.
"I can make him speak truth," said Ingvar grimly.
"What shall be done with this Wulfric?" asked Hubba.
"Let him go with Raud until I have spoken with Beorn," answered Ingvar, "then we shall be sure if he is friend or not."
Hubba nodded, and he and I rose up and went out to the porch, where Raud and Rolf waited with the two guards. We passed them and stood in the courtyard.
"I believe you, Wulfric," said Hubba, "for I know a true man when I see him."
"I thank you, Jarl," I answered him, taking the hand that he offered me.
I looked out over the sea, for the frank kindness moved me, and I would not show it. There was a heavy bank of clouds working up, and the wind came from the north, with a smell of snow in it. Then I saw a great hawk flying inland, and wondered to see it come over sea at this time of year. It flew so that it would pass over the house, and as it came it wheeled a little and called; and then it swept down and came straight towards me, so that I held out my hand and it perched on my wrist.
And lo! it was Lodbrok's gerfalcon; and pleased she was to see me once more, fluttering her wings and glancing at me while I smoothed and spoke to her.
But Hubba cried out in wonder, and the men and Ingvar came out to see what his call meant. Then they, too, were amazed, for they knew the bird and her ways well.
I had spoken of the falcon once or twice, telling the jarls how she had taken to me, and I think they had doubted it a little. Now the bird had got free in some way, and finding neither of her masters, had fled home, even as Lodbrok said she would.
"Now is your story proved to be true," said Hubba, smiling gravely at me, but speaking for Ingvar's ear.
"Aye, over true," answered his brother; "serve this man well, Raud and Rolf, for he has been a close friend of Jarl Lodbrok."
"Then should he be in Lodbrok's house as a guest," said Raud stoutly, and free of speech as Danes will ever be.
"Maybe he shall be so soon," said Ingvar.
"I will bide with my first hosts," I said, not being willing to speak much of this just now.
"That is well said," was Hubba's reply, and so we went to have the falcon--who would not leave me--hooded and confined; and then I went with the two men back to their hut, and there they vied with each other in kindness to me until night fell, and I gladly went to rest; for since that night within Caistor walls I had had no sleep that was worth considering. So my sleep was a long sleep, and nothing broke it until I woke of myself, and found only the great dog Vig in the hut, and breakfast ready set out for me, while outside the ground was white with snow.
I was glad to find that no watch was kept on me, for it seemed as if Hubba's words were indeed true, and that the jarls believed my story. And my dagger was left me also, hanging still on the wall at my head where I had slept. Then I thought that the great dog was maybe bidden to guard me, but he paid no heed when I went outside the hut to try if it were so.
Ere an hour had passed Raud came back, and he had news for me.
"Now, friend Wulfric, I am to part with my guest, and not in the way that was yesterday's. The jarls bid me say that Wulfric of Reedham, Lodbrok's preserver, is a welcome guest in their hall, and they would see him there at once."
"Nevertheless," I answered, "Raud the forester was the first to shelter me, and I do not forget."
Whereat Raud was pleased, and together we went to the great house, and entered, unchallenged. Hubba came forward and held out his strong hand to me frankly, smiling a little, but gravely, and I took it.
"Beorn has told the truth," he said; "forgive me for doubt of you at any time."
"Aye, let that be forgotten," said Ingvar, coming from beyond the great fire, and I answered that I thought it not strange that they had doubted me.
"Now, therefore," said Hubba, "you yourself shall question Beorn, for there are things you want to know from him. And he will answer you truly enough."
"After that you shall slay him, if you will," said Ingvar, in his stern voice, "I wonder you did not do so in the boat. Better for him if you had."
"I wonder not," said Hubba. "The man is fit for naught; I could not lay hand on such a cur."
I had no answer to make after that, for the warrior spoke my own thoughts, and I held my peace as they took me to the further side of the hearth, past the fire, beyond which I had not yet been able to see.
Then I knew how Beorn had been made to speak the truth. They had tortured him, and there was no strength left in him at all, so that I almost started back from the cruel marks that he bore. Yet I had things to hear from him, now that he had no need to speak falsely, and I went to his side. The two jarls stood and looked at him unmoved.
"The justice of Ulfkytel is on you, Beorn," I said slowly; "there is no need to hide aught. Tell me how you slew Lodbrok, and why."
Then came a voice, so hollow that I should not have known it for the lusty falconer's of past days:
"Aye; justice is on me, and I am glad. I will tell you, but first say that you forgive me."
Then I could not but tell this poor creature that for all the harm he had done me I would surely forgive him; but that the deed of murder was not for me to forgive.
"Pray, therefore, that for it I may be forgiven hereafter," he said, and that I promised him.
Then he spoke faintly, so that Hubba bade Raud give him strong drink, and that brought his strength back a little.
"I took your arrows at Thetford, and I followed you to Reedham. There I dogged you, day by day, in the woods--five days I went through the woods as you hunted, and then you twain were far apart, and my chance had come. Lodbrok reined up to listen, and I marked where he would pass when he went back, hearing your horn. Then I shot, and the arrow went true; but I drew sword, being mad, and made more sure. That is all. Surely I thought I should escape, for I told no man what I would do, and all men thought me far away, with the king."
Then he stopped, and recovered his strength before he could go on.
"I hated Lodbrok because he had taken my place beside the king, and because his woodcraft was greater than mine, though I was first in that in all our land. And I feared that he would take the land the king offered him, for I longed for it."
Then Beorn closed his eyes, and I was turning away, for I need ask no more; but again he spoke:
"Blind was yon dotard Ulfkytel not to see all this; would that you had slain me in the woods at first--or that he had hanged me at Caistor--or that I had been drowned. But justice is done, and my life is ended."
Those were the last words that I heard Beorn, the falconer, speak, for I left him, and Raud gave him to drink again.
"Have you no more to ask?" said Ingvar gloomily, and frowning on Beorn, as he lay helpless beyond the hearth.
"Nothing, Jarl."
"What was the last word he said. I heard not."
"He said that justice was done," I answered.
"When I have done with him, it shall be so," growled Ingvar, and his hand clutched his sword hilt, so that I thought to see him slay the man on the spot.
"Has he told you all?" I asked of Hubba.
"All, and more than you have told of yourself," he answered; "for he told us that it was your hand saved my father, and for that we thank you. But one thing more he said at first, and that was that Eadmund the King set him on to slay the jarl."
On that I cried out that the good king loved Lodbrok too well, and in any case would suffer no such cowardly dealings.
"So ran his after words; but that was his first story, nevertheless."
"Then he lied, for you have just now heard him say that his own evil thoughts bade him do the deed."
"Aye--maybe he lied at first; but we shall see," said Ingvar.
Now I understood not that saying, but if a man lies once, who shall know where the lie's doings will stop? What came from this lie I must tell, but now it seemed to have passed for naught.
"Now shall you slay the man in what way you will, as I have said. There are weapons," and Ingvar pointed to the store on the walls.
"I will not touch him," I said, "and I think that he dies."
"Then shall you see the vengeance of Ingvar on his father's murderer," the jarl said savagely. "Call the men together into the courtyard, Raud, and let them bring the man there."
"Let him die, Jarl," I said boldly; "he has suffered already."
"I think that if you knew, Wulfric of Reedham, how near you have been to this yourself, through his doings, you would not hold your hand," answered Ingvar, scowling at Beorn again.
"Maybe, Jarl," I answered, "but though you may make a liar speak truth thus, you cannot make an honest man say more than he has to speak."
"One cannot well mistake an honest saying," said Ingvar. "And that is well for you, friend."
And so he turned and watched his courtmen, as the Danes called the housecarles, carry Beorn out. Then he went to the walls and began to handle axe after axe, taking down one by one, setting some on the great table, and putting others back, as if taking delight in choosing one fittest for some purpose.
Even as we watched him--Hubba sitting on the table's edge, and I standing by him--a leathern curtain that went across a door at the upper end of the hall was pulled aside, and a lady came into the place. Stately and tall, with wondrous black hair, was this maiden, and I knew that this must be that Osritha of whom the jarl was wont to speak to Eadgyth and my mother, and who wrought the raven banner that hung above the high place where she stood now. She was like Halfden and Hubba, though with Ingvar's hair, and if those three were handsome men among a thousand, this sister of theirs was more than worthy of them. She stood in the door, doubting, when she saw me. Sad she looked, and she wore no gold on arm or neck, doubtless because of the certainty of the great jarl's death; and when she saw that Hubba beckoned to her, she came towards us, and Ingvar set down the great axe whose edge he was feeling.
"Go back to your bower, sister," he said; "we have work on hand."
And he spoke sternly, but not harshly, to her. She shrank away a little, as if frightened at the jarl's dark face and stern words, but Hubba called her by name.
"Stay, Osritha; here is that friend of our father's from over seas, of whom you have heard."
Then she looked pityingly at me, as I thought, saying very kindly:
"You are welcome. Yet I fear you have suffered for your friendship to my father."
"I have suffered for not being near to help him, lady," I said.
"There is a thing that you know not yet," said Hubba. "This Wulfric was the man who took Father from the breakers."
Then the maiden smiled at me, though her eyes were full of tears, and she asked me:
"How will they bury him in your land? In honour?"
"I have a brother-in-law who will see to that," I said. "And, moreover, Eadmund the King, and Elfric, my father, will do him all honour."
"I will see to that," growled Ingvar, turning sharply from where he sought another weapon on the wall.
Not knowing all he meant, this pleased me, for I thought that we should sail together to Reedham for this, before very long. But Osritha, knowing his ways, looked long at him, till he turned away again, and would not meet her eyes.
"Now go back to your place, my sister," he said. "It is not well for you to bide here just now."
"Why not? Let our friend tell me of Father also," she said wilfully.
"Because I am going to do justice on Lodbrok's slayer," said Ingvar, in a great voice, swinging an axe again.
Then the maiden turned pale, and wrung her hands, looking at Ingvar, who would not meet her eyes; and then she went and laid her hands on his mighty arm, crying:
"Not that, my brother; not that!"
"Why not?" he asked; but he did not shake off her little hands.
"Because Father would not have men so treated, however ill they had done."
"Aye, brother; the girl is right," said Hubba. "Let him die; for you gave him to Wulfric, and that is his word."
"Well then," said Ingvar, setting back the axe at last, "I will not carve him into the eagle I meant to make of him. But slay him I must and will, if the life is yet in him."
"Let Odin have him," said Hubba; and I knew that he meant that the man should be hanged, for so, as Halfden's vikings told me, should he be Odin's thrall, unhonoured.
Then the maiden fled from the hall, glad to have gained even that for the man, instead of the terrible death that the Danes keep for traitors and cowards.
Now Ingvar put back the axes he had kept, saying that the girl ever stood in his way when he would punish as a man deserved. After that he stood for a while as if in thought, and broke out at length:
"We will see if this man can sing a death song as did Ragnar our forefather."
And with that he waited no more, but strode out into the courtyard, we following. And I feared what I should see; until I looked on Beorn, and though he was yet alive, I saw that he was past feeling aught.
They bore him out of the village to a place just inside the trenched enclosure, and there were old stone walls, such as were none elsewhere in the place, but as it might have been part of Burgh or Brancaster walls that the Romans made on our shores, so ancient that they were crumbling to decay. There they set him down, and raised a great flat stone, close to the greatest wall, which covered the mouth of a deep pit.
"Look therein," said Ingvar to me.
I looked, and saw that the pit was stone walled and deep, and that out of it was no way but this hole above. The walls and floor were damp and slimy; and when I looked closer, the dim light showed me bones in one corner, and also that over the floor crawled reptiles, countless.
"An adder is a small thing to sting a man," said Ingvar in his grim voice. "Nor will it always hurt him much. Yet if a man is so close among many that he must needs tread on one, and it bites him, and in fleeing that he must set foot on another, and again another, and then more--how will that end?"
I shuddered and turned away.
"In such a place did Ella of Northumbria put my forebear, Ragnar Lodbrok; and there he sang the song {xiii} we hold most wondrous of all. There he was set because he was feared, and Northumbria knows what I thought of that matter. But Beorn goes here for reasons which you know. And East Anglia shall know what my thoughts are of those reasons."
Then two men seized Beorn and cast him into that foul pit, stripped of all things, and the stone fell.
But Beorn moved not nor cried out, and I think that even as Ulfkytel had boded, stripped of life itself was he before the bottom of the pit was reached.
So the justice of Ulfkytel the Earl came to pass. But the lies spoken by Beorn were not yet paid for.
From the time when Beorn was made to speak the truth, I was a welcome guest in the hall that had been Lodbrok's, to Hubba at least, and we were good friends. As for Ingvar, he was friendly enough also, and would listen when I spoke with his more frank and open brother of my days with Halfden and his father. But he took little pleasure in my company, going silent and moody about the place, for the snow that began on the day after I landed was the first of a great storm, fiercer and colder than any we knew in England, and beyond the courtyard of the great house men could scarcely stir for a time.
This storm I had but just escaped, and it seemed to me, and still seems, that the terror and pain thereof was held back while I was on the sea, for those nights and days had had no winter sting in them.
Hubba and I would wrestle and practise arms in the hall or courtyard during that time, and he was even beyond his father, my teacher, in the matter of weapon play; so that it is no wonder that now, as all men know, he is held the most famous warrior of his time.
These sports Ingvar watched, and took part in now and then when his mood was lighter, but it was seldom. Yet he was skilful, though not as his brother.
Then at night was the fire of pine logs high heaped, and we feasted while the scalds, as they call their gleemen, sang the deeds of the heroes of old. And some of those of whom they sang were men of the Angles of the old country; and one was my own forefather, and for that I gave the scald my gold bracelet, and thereafter he sang lustily in my praise as Lodbrok's rescuer.
Very pleasant it was in Ingvar's hall while the wind howled over the roof, and the roar of the sea was always in our ears. And these Danes drank less than our people, if they ate more largely. But Ingvar would sit and take pleasure in none of the sport, being ever silent and thoughtful.
But to me, best of all were the times when I might see and speak with Osritha, and soon the days seemed heavy to me if by chance I had no word with her. And she was always glad to speak of her father and Halfden; for she was the youngest of all Lodbrok's children, and Halfden, her brother, was but a year older than herself, so that she loved him best of all, and longed to see him home again.
So longed I, grieving for the news he must hear when he came to Reedham, but yet thinking that he would be glad to find me at least living and waiting for him.
Now, as the snow grew deeper and the cold strengthened, the wolves began to come at night into the village, and at last grew very daring. So one night a man ran in to say that a pack was round a cottage where a child would not cease crying, and must be driven off, or they would surely tear the clay walls down.
Then Hubba and I would go; but Ingvar laughed at us, saying that a few firebrands would settle the matter by fraying the beasts away. However, the man was urgent, and we went out with Raud and his brother, and some twenty men, armed with spears and axes.
The night was very dark, and the snow whirled every way, and the end of it was that Raud and I and two more men, with the dog Vig, lost the rest, and before we found them we had the pack on us, and we must fight for our lives. And that fight was a hard fight, for there must have been a score of gaunt wolves, half starved and ravenous.
And I think we should have fared badly, for at last I was standing over Raud, who was down, dragged to the earth by two wolves, of which the dog slew one and I the other, while the other two men were back to back with me, and the wolves bayed all round us. But Hubba and his party heard our shouts in time and came up, and so ended the matter.
Now Raud must have it that I had saved his life, though I thought the good dog had a share in it, and both he and the dog were a little hurt. However, my shoulder was badly torn by a wolf that leapt at me while my spear was cumbered with another, and I for my part never wished it had not been so.
For Osritha, who was very skilful in leech craft, tended my hurt; and I saw much of her, for the hurts were a long time before they healed, as wolf bites are apt to be, and we grew very friendly. So that, day by day, I began to long to see the maiden who cared for my wound so gently, before the time came.
Now Raud must needs make me a spear from a tough ashen sapling that he had treasured for a long time, because that which I had used in the wolf hunt was sprung by the weight of one of the beasts, and while his hurts kept him away at his own house he wrought it, and at last brought it up to the hall to give to me.
When I looked at it--and it was a very good one, and had carved work where the hand grips the shaft, and a carved end--I saw that the head was one of Jarl Ingvar's best spearheads, and asked Raud where he got it.
"Why," he said, "a good ash shaft deserves a good head, and so I asked the jarl for one. And when he knew for whom it was, he gave me this, saying it was the best he had."
Now I was pleased with this gift, both because I liked the man Raud, who was both brave and simple minded, and because it showed that the surly jarl had some liking for me. Yet I would that he showed this openly, and telling Osritha of the gift, I dared say so.
Then she sighed and rose up, saying that she would show me another spear on the further wall, so taking me out of hearing of her maidens, who sat by the fire busied over their spinning and the like.
There she spoke to me of Jarl Ingvar.
"Moody and silent beyond his wont has he been since we have heard all about our father's death, and I fear that he plans some terrible revenge for it, even as he took revenge on the Northumbrian coasts for the long-ago slaying of Ragnar."
Then I remembered the story of the burnt town, Streoneshalch, and knew what Ingvar's revenge was like. But as yet I could not think that he would avenge Beorn's deed further than I had seen already.
"But he has no enmity with you, our friend," she went on; "though he speaks little to you, he listens as you talk to us. But there has grown up in his heart a hatred of all men in your land, save of yourself alone. And once he said that he would that you were a Dane, and his comrade as you had been Halfden's."
Then I told Osritha of how Halfden had let me go from him rather than have me fight against my own land. I had said nothing of this to the jarls, for there was no reason. And this was the first time that I had had private speech with Osritha.
"That is Halfden's way," she said, "he is ever generous."
"I would that he were back," I answered, and so we ceased speaking.
Yet after this, many were the chances I found of the like talk alone with Osritha before the weather broke, and we could once more get into the woods, hunting, and the men began to work in the ship garths on a great ship that was being built.
Now we had good hunting in the forests, and on the borders of the great mosses of Ingvar's lands. But there were many more folk in this land than in ours, and I thought that they were ill off in many ways. In those days of hunting, Ingvar, seeing me ride with the carven spear that was partly his gift, and with Lodbrok's hawk on my wrist, would speak more often with me, though now and again some chance word of mine spoken in the way of my own folk would seem to turn him gloomy and sullen, so that he would spur his horse and leave me. But Hubba was ever the same, and I liked him well, though I could not have made a friend of him as of Halfden.
In March messengers began to come and go, and though I asked nothing and was told nothing, I knew well that Ingvar was gathering a mighty host to him that he might sail in the May time across the seas for plunder--or for revenge. The hammers went all day long in the ship garths, where the air was full of the wholesome scent of tar; and in their houses the women spun busily, making rope and weaving canvas that should carry the jarl's men "over the swan's bath;" while in the hall the courtmen sat after dark and feathered arrows and twined bowstrings, and mended mail. And now and then some chief would ride into the town, feasting that night, and riding away in the morning after long talk with the jarls. And some, Bagsac and Guthrum, Sidrac and his son, and a tall man named Osbern, came very often as the days lengthened.
I would ask nothing of this matter, even of Osritha, having my own thoughts thereon, and not being willing to press her on things she might have been bidden to keep from me. She would ask me of my mother and Eadgyth, as they would ask the jarl of her, and I told her all I could, though that was not much, for a man hardly notes things as a woman will. Then she would laugh at me; until one day I said that I would she could come over to Reedham and see for herself.
At that I thought that I had offended her, for her face grew red, and she left me. Nor could I find a chance of speaking to her again for many days, which was strange to me, and grieved me sorely.
Now the southwest wind shifted at last to the west and north, and that shift brought home him whom I most wished to see, my comrade, Halfden. And it chanced that I was the first to see his sail from the higher land along the coast, south of the haven, where I was riding with my falcon and the great dog Vig, which Raud and his brother would have me take for my own after the wolf hunt.
Gladly I rode hack with my news to find Ingvar in the ship garth, and there I told him who came.
"A ship, maybe. How know you she is Halfden's?" he said carelessly.
"Why, how does any sailor know his own ship?" I asked in surprise.
Then he turned at once, and smiled at me fairly for the first time.
"I had forgotten," he said. "Come, let us look at her again."
And I was not mistaken, though the jarl was not so sure as I for half an hour or more. When he was certain, he said:
"Come, let us make what welcome for Halfden that we may."
And we went back to the hall, and at once was the great horn blown to assemble the men; and the news went round quickly, so that everywhere men and women alike put aside their work, and hurried down to the wharf side. And in Ingvar's house the thralls wrought to prepare a great feast in honour of Jarl Halfden's homecoming.
Soon I stood with the jarls and Osritha at the landing place, and behind us were the courtmen in their best array. And as we came to the place where we would wait, Halfden's ship came past the bar into the haven's mouth.
All men's faces were bright with the thought of welcome, but heavy were my thoughts, and with reason. For Halfden's ship came from the sea on no course that should have borne him from Reedham, and I feared that it was I who must tell him all. Yet he might have been drawn from his course by some passing vessel.
The long ship flew up the channel, and now we could see that all her rail was hung with the red and yellow shields that they use for show as well as to make the gunwale higher against the arrows, and to hinder boarders in a fight. And she was gaily decked with flags, and shone with new paint and gilding in all sea bravery. Not idle had her crew been in the place where they had wintered, and one might know that they had had a good voyage, which to a Dane means plunder enough for all. But surely if Halfden had been to Reedham, the long pennon had been half masted.
It were long to tell how the people cheered, and how they were answered from the ship, and how I spied Halfden on the fore deck, and Thormod at the helm, as ever. And when Osritha saw Halfden's gay arms and cloak and all the bright trim of the ship and men, she said to me, speaking low and quickly:
"They have not been to Reedham, or it would not have been thus."
And it was true, for there would have been no sign of joy among those who had heard the news that waited them there.
I knew not how to bear this meeting, but I was not alone in my trouble, for nearer me crept Osritha, saying to me alone, while the people cheered and shouted:
"How shall we tell Halfden?"
The two jarls were busy at the mooring place, and I could only answer her that I could look to her alone for help. Now at that I knew what had sprung up in my heart for Osritha, and that not in this only should I look for help from her and find it, but if it might be, all my life through. For now in my trouble she looked at me with a new look, answering:
"I will help you, whatever betide."
I might say no more then, nor were words needed, for I knew all that she meant. And so my heart was lightened, for now I held that I was repaid for all that had gone before, and save for that which had brought me here, gladly would I take my perilous voyage over again to find this land and the treasure it now held for me.
At last the ship's keel grated on the sand, and the men sprang from shore waist deep in water, to take her the mighty cables that should haul her into her berth; and then the long gangplank was run out, and Halfden came striding along it, looking bright and handsome--and halfway over, he stopped where none could throng him, and lifting his hand for silence cried for all to hear.
"Hearken all to good news! Lodbrok our Jarl lives!"
Then, alas! instead of the great cheer that should have broken from the lips of all that throng, was at first a silence, and then a groan--low and pitiful as of a mourning people who wail for the dead and the sorrowful living--and at that sound Halfden paled, and stayed no more, hurrying ashore and to where his brothers stood.
"What is this?" he said, and his voice was low, and yet clear in the silence that had fallen, for all his men behind him had stopped as if turned to stone where they stood.
Then from my side sprang Osritha before any could answer, meeting him first of all, and she threw her arms round his neck, saying:
"Dead is Lodbrok our father, and nigh to death for his sake has been Wulfric, your friend. Yet he at least is well, and here to speak with you and tell you all."
Then for the great and terrible sorrow that came at the end of the joyous homeward sailing, down on the hard sand Halfden the Jarl threw himself, and there lay weeping as these wild Danes can weep, for their sorrow is as terrible as their rage, and they will put no bounds to the way of grief of which there is no need for shame. Nor have they the hope that bids us sorrow not as they.
And while he lay there, all men held their peace, looking in one another's faces, and only the jarls and Osritha and myself stood near him.
Very suddenly he raised himself up, and was once more calm; then he kissed the maiden, and grasped his brothers' hands, and then held out both hands to me, holding mine and looking in my face.
"Other was the meeting I had planned for you and me, Wulfric, my brother-in-arms. Yet you are most welcome, for you at least are here to tell me of the days that are past."
"It is an ill telling," said Ingvar.
"That must needs be, seeing what is to be told," Hubba said quickly.
But those wise words of Osritha's had made things easier for me, for now Halfden knew that into the story of the jarl's death, I and my doings must come, so Ingvar's words meant little to him.
"You went not to Reedham?" I said, for now the men were at work again, and all was noise and bustle round us.
"I have come here first by Orkneys from Waterford, where we wintered," he answered. "And I have been over sure that no mishap might be in a long six months."
"What of the voyage?--let us speak of this hereafter," said Hubba.
And Halfden, wearily, as one who had lost all interest in his own doings, told him that it had been good, and that Thormod would give him the full tale of plunder.
Then came a chief from the ship whose face I knew, though he was not of our crew. It was that Rorik whose ship the Bosham bell had sunk, and who had been saved by Halfden's boats. He knew me, after scanning me idly for a moment, and greeted me, asking why I was not at Reedham to make that feast of which Halfden was ever speaking, and so passed on.
So we went up to the great hall in silence, sorely cast down; and that was Halfden's homecoming.
Little joy was there on the high place at the feast that night, though at the lower tables the men of our crew (for so I must ever think of those whose leader I had been for a little while, with Halfden) held high revelling with their comrades. Many were the tales they told, and when a tale of fight and victory was done, the scald would sing it in verse that should be kept and sung by the winter fire till new deeds brought new songs to take its place.
Presently Halfden rose up, after the welcome cup had gone round and feasting was done, and the ale and mead began to flow, and he beckoned me to come with him. Hubba would have come also, but Ingvar held him back.