Read Online TLV - 02 - The Road of the Sea Horse by Poul Anderson - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Poul Anderson
Tags: Historical Novel
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anything more beautiful."
"But the shapes are all alike," replied Halldor. "They cannot be otherwise, if they're to sail properly. So has everything in life become. Whatever happens, I'm not surprised, and I already know the answer. Nor do I mind this, I am content. In my youth it would have seemed horrible, better die than live in such a dullness, but now ..." His scar-twisted mouth bent upward, a little sadly. "Why, now I am not a youth."
"True," said Harald. He sighed. "How old am I . . . thirty-three? Not a great age, but it does seem that time goes faster than it used to. Once I'd have been unable to wait for this summer's outcome—king of Denmark! These days, though . . ." He shrugged.
Time went, time went, he thought, and even the gods had grown old. Thora was a handsome and lusty wench, with stately manners and a sharp elfin wit, but she was not Maria who had cracked his heart in two. Was it only himself, or had the sun paled since he was a boy?
Well . . .
He clapped Halldor's shoulder. "Go with God," he said. "You shall have worthy gifts from me. And . . . when a man from wherever you settle comes hither, send me word by him, will you?"
3
In the late spring, when the sowing was finished, the Norse fleet met and sailed down to Jutland. They landed with flame and iron, laying waste the northern part as they steered from beach to beach. After a while they entered Godhnarfjord to make a camp from which they could go inland. That was at dawn, a misty gray light stealing into the sky and dew glistening on the planks. A few dogs ashore barked, a cock crowed, but otherwise the garths they could dimly see lay wrapped in shadow and sleep.
Harald chuckled and made half a verse:
"In Godhnarfjord we grip
the ground with claws of anchors
while wives do sing unwakeful
warriors songs of slumber. "
To Thjodholf the skald, he said, "Now do you complete it."
The Icelander stroked his ruddy beard, thought for a moment, and chanted:
"Next summer we'll be sinking
further south the anchors;
oft, I spae, hereafter,
we'll anchor even deeper."
Harald frowned and crossed himself. The lines did not seem to bode well for this faring. But he did not choose to upbraid Thjodholf, who was a plainspoken man but a good and loyal fighter.
The Norsemen took the shoreward crofts without trouble, and Harald struck inland toward a hill overlooking the bay. There, he knew, was the home of Thorkell Geysa.
During the winter, Thorkell’ s daughters had made much sport of King Harald's unlucky ventures; they had cut anchors out of cheese, saying these would surely be strong enough to hold his ships. Now, when a man, white-faced, came running to tell them the foe was here, he panted in wrath and sorrow: "You said, you Geysa daughters, that Harald would not come back to Denmark."
"That was yesterday," answered Dotta Thor kelsdottir faintly.
The garth was burned and the girls led to the camp. Somewhat later Thorkell himself appeared; he now stumbled half crazed to Harald. The king set a mighty ransom for his daughters, which was paid a few days later. By that time Harald was already elsewhere and fighting.
The land lay almost open to him, Svein had not come forth and he had only small skirmishes. At first Harald was gleeful, but as the summer wore on he grew more and more enraged. Well enough to harry and load the ships with plunder, but while his wily foeman held back there would be no settling the war. He thought of wintering in Jutland and next year overrunning the islands. However, Ulf said most of the men would not agree to this but would go home when the term of the levy was up.
"Fools, dolts, gutless nidhings!" Harald growled in his throat and smacked one fist into the other hand. "What do they think will happen if we leave? Svein will return, and everything will have to be done over."
Ulf peered at him. "We are no Guthorm's host grabbing a Danelaw. Those were folk who had little or no land at home. Our men
"But the shapes are all alike," replied Halldor. "They cannot be otherwise, if they're to sail properly. So has everything in life become. Whatever happens, I'm not surprised, and I already know the answer. Nor do I mind this, I am content. In my youth it would have seemed horrible, better die than live in such a dullness, but now ..." His scar-twisted mouth bent upward, a little sadly. "Why, now I am not a youth."
"True," said Harald. He sighed. "How old am I . . . thirty-three? Not a great age, but it does seem that time goes faster than it used to. Once I'd have been unable to wait for this summer's outcome—king of Denmark! These days, though . . ." He shrugged.
Time went, time went, he thought, and even the gods had grown old. Thora was a handsome and lusty wench, with stately manners and a sharp elfin wit, but she was not Maria who had cracked his heart in two. Was it only himself, or had the sun paled since he was a boy?
Well . . .
He clapped Halldor's shoulder. "Go with God," he said. "You shall have worthy gifts from me. And . . . when a man from wherever you settle comes hither, send me word by him, will you?"
3
In the late spring, when the sowing was finished, the Norse fleet met and sailed down to Jutland. They landed with flame and iron, laying waste the northern part as they steered from beach to beach. After a while they entered Godhnarfjord to make a camp from which they could go inland. That was at dawn, a misty gray light stealing into the sky and dew glistening on the planks. A few dogs ashore barked, a cock crowed, but otherwise the garths they could dimly see lay wrapped in shadow and sleep.
Harald chuckled and made half a verse:
"In Godhnarfjord we grip
the ground with claws of anchors
while wives do sing unwakeful
warriors songs of slumber. "
To Thjodholf the skald, he said, "Now do you complete it."
The Icelander stroked his ruddy beard, thought for a moment, and chanted:
"Next summer we'll be sinking
further south the anchors;
oft, I spae, hereafter,
we'll anchor even deeper."
Harald frowned and crossed himself. The lines did not seem to bode well for this faring. But he did not choose to upbraid Thjodholf, who was a plainspoken man but a good and loyal fighter.
The Norsemen took the shoreward crofts without trouble, and Harald struck inland toward a hill overlooking the bay. There, he knew, was the home of Thorkell Geysa.
During the winter, Thorkell’ s daughters had made much sport of King Harald's unlucky ventures; they had cut anchors out of cheese, saying these would surely be strong enough to hold his ships. Now, when a man, white-faced, came running to tell them the foe was here, he panted in wrath and sorrow: "You said, you Geysa daughters, that Harald would not come back to Denmark."
"That was yesterday," answered Dotta Thor kelsdottir faintly.
The garth was burned and the girls led to the camp. Somewhat later Thorkell himself appeared; he now stumbled half crazed to Harald. The king set a mighty ransom for his daughters, which was paid a few days later. By that time Harald was already elsewhere and fighting.
The land lay almost open to him, Svein had not come forth and he had only small skirmishes. At first Harald was gleeful, but as the summer wore on he grew more and more enraged. Well enough to harry and load the ships with plunder, but while his wily foeman held back there would be no settling the war. He thought of wintering in Jutland and next year overrunning the islands. However, Ulf said most of the men would not agree to this but would go home when the term of the levy was up.
"Fools, dolts, gutless nidhings!" Harald growled in his throat and smacked one fist into the other hand. "What do they think will happen if we leave? Svein will return, and everything will have to be done over."
Ulf peered at him. "We are no Guthorm's host grabbing a Danelaw. Those were folk who had little or no land at home. Our men
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