Read Online Hrolf Kraki's Saga by Poul Anderson - Free Book Online
Authors: Poul Anderson
Tags: Science-Fiction
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the saying is. “I am unwell,” the king’s foster-father told him. “Ever oftener my heart pains me andflutters like a bird trying to escape a cage. It would gladden me if, before I go hence, I can lay one more strong timber to the house of the Skjoldungs.”
Hroar gripped his hand. Nothing else was needful between those two.
He went on: “I’ve asked about, and sent men of mine to look. I think I’ve found you a wife, who’d not only bring a rich dower and stout friends. She’d be the right lady for you.”
“I’ve always done well to follow your redes,” said Hroar low.
She was Valthjona, daughter of Ægthjof, the chief jarl in Götaland and near kin to its king. Thus Hroar would gain spokesmen for himself in that realm between his own and the Yngling-led Swedes.
There went more talk, with faring of messengers and gifts. Ere Yule, Valthjona reached Leidhra. She was a big, good-looking woman, firm at need but otherwise kindly, shrewd and steadfast. She and Hroar dwelt together in happiness.
Soon after the Hammer had hallowed them, Regin died. Folk called that great scathe. The kings gave him burial in a ship laden with costly goods, and raised a howe which reared high above the Isefjord, as if trying to see where old Vifil had laid his bones. Aasta did not long outlive her man. She too got a mound and farewell gifts from her fosterlings.
Hroar said sadly, “Now we must lean on our own wisdom, such as it is.”
“If that fails,” answered his brother, “we have our strength.”
“Our great-grandfather owned more might than we do, yet he went under.” Hroar ran fingers through his thin new beard. They sat alone in a loftroom, with only a stone lamp to hold off night. The air was winter-bleak. “We’re safer eastward than erstwhile, thanks to Regin. But few are our kinfolk westward across the Great Belt.”
“Are you saying I should seek a wife of my own?”
“Well, we’d better begin thinking about it.”
“Hm. I’m young for that.”
“Not as we Skjoldungs go.”
From time to time in the following months, Hroar brought the matter up. Helgi put him off, usually with a jest. This was not because of shyness. Almost the first thing Helgi did when they came to Leidhra, after the slaying of Frodhi, was beckon a thrall girl to his bed. Since then, if he wasn’t at sea, he seldom slept alone.
“You’re breeding sons who may well bring down the kingdom in grasping after it,” Hroar scolded him.
“Oh, I’ve not had to take one on my knee and give him a name,” Helgi laughed. “I never keep a wench long enough. I send her back to work, or home with a gift if she’s free-born, and that’s that.”
“Still, you should have acknowledged children, not to speak of in-laws.”
“Let me be, will you?” And Helgi stalked from the house.
He brooded, however, until in the end he decided to astonish the world by showing how he could steer his own affairs—and, at the same time, do a thing which would make him famous far beyond Denmark. Therefore he sent spies out in secret. Openly, he gathered ships and men, promising a cruise come summer which ought to win wealth.
There was no dearth of younger sons glad to join him. After sowing season a big fleet rowed out of Haven.
Hroar had spoken against this—“We’ve plenty of vikings and foemen close to home, without turning vikings ourselves”—but Helgi said, “Men won’t stay willing to go beneath our banners unless we give them a chance at real booty,” and would not be swayed.
His ships went down the Sound, their avowed aim to harry the southern Baltic coasts. Then at Mön, camped ashore, he told his skippers that first they would turn west. After he broached his wish, a few said it was too reckless. But they were shouted down and soon gave in. Remember, these were young men. Helgi himself had but sixteen winters.
II
The Saxons began in the neck of the Jutland peninsula. Like all Northland folk other than Finns, they speak a
Hroar gripped his hand. Nothing else was needful between those two.
He went on: “I’ve asked about, and sent men of mine to look. I think I’ve found you a wife, who’d not only bring a rich dower and stout friends. She’d be the right lady for you.”
“I’ve always done well to follow your redes,” said Hroar low.
She was Valthjona, daughter of Ægthjof, the chief jarl in Götaland and near kin to its king. Thus Hroar would gain spokesmen for himself in that realm between his own and the Yngling-led Swedes.
There went more talk, with faring of messengers and gifts. Ere Yule, Valthjona reached Leidhra. She was a big, good-looking woman, firm at need but otherwise kindly, shrewd and steadfast. She and Hroar dwelt together in happiness.
Soon after the Hammer had hallowed them, Regin died. Folk called that great scathe. The kings gave him burial in a ship laden with costly goods, and raised a howe which reared high above the Isefjord, as if trying to see where old Vifil had laid his bones. Aasta did not long outlive her man. She too got a mound and farewell gifts from her fosterlings.
Hroar said sadly, “Now we must lean on our own wisdom, such as it is.”
“If that fails,” answered his brother, “we have our strength.”
“Our great-grandfather owned more might than we do, yet he went under.” Hroar ran fingers through his thin new beard. They sat alone in a loftroom, with only a stone lamp to hold off night. The air was winter-bleak. “We’re safer eastward than erstwhile, thanks to Regin. But few are our kinfolk westward across the Great Belt.”
“Are you saying I should seek a wife of my own?”
“Well, we’d better begin thinking about it.”
“Hm. I’m young for that.”
“Not as we Skjoldungs go.”
From time to time in the following months, Hroar brought the matter up. Helgi put him off, usually with a jest. This was not because of shyness. Almost the first thing Helgi did when they came to Leidhra, after the slaying of Frodhi, was beckon a thrall girl to his bed. Since then, if he wasn’t at sea, he seldom slept alone.
“You’re breeding sons who may well bring down the kingdom in grasping after it,” Hroar scolded him.
“Oh, I’ve not had to take one on my knee and give him a name,” Helgi laughed. “I never keep a wench long enough. I send her back to work, or home with a gift if she’s free-born, and that’s that.”
“Still, you should have acknowledged children, not to speak of in-laws.”
“Let me be, will you?” And Helgi stalked from the house.
He brooded, however, until in the end he decided to astonish the world by showing how he could steer his own affairs—and, at the same time, do a thing which would make him famous far beyond Denmark. Therefore he sent spies out in secret. Openly, he gathered ships and men, promising a cruise come summer which ought to win wealth.
There was no dearth of younger sons glad to join him. After sowing season a big fleet rowed out of Haven.
Hroar had spoken against this—“We’ve plenty of vikings and foemen close to home, without turning vikings ourselves”—but Helgi said, “Men won’t stay willing to go beneath our banners unless we give them a chance at real booty,” and would not be swayed.
His ships went down the Sound, their avowed aim to harry the southern Baltic coasts. Then at Mön, camped ashore, he told his skippers that first they would turn west. After he broached his wish, a few said it was too reckless. But they were shouted down and soon gave in. Remember, these were young men. Helgi himself had but sixteen winters.
II
The Saxons began in the neck of the Jutland peninsula. Like all Northland folk other than Finns, they speak a
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