The Long Ships (16 page)

Then Orm said: “I do not believe that any man can be certain just how powerful this or that god is, or how much he can do to help us. And I think we should be foolish to neglect one god for the sake of not offending some other. But one thing we know, that there is one god who has served us well on this enterprise; I mean, St. James; for it is his bell that keeps our ship from turning turtle and, apart from this, it has helped the rowers to keep time. So let us not forget him.”

They agreed that this was well spoken, and sacrificed meat and drink to Agir, Allah, and St. James, which put them in better heart.

By this time they had little idea where they were, save only that they were a good way from Asturia. They knew, however, that, if they held their course northwards, in the direction in which the storm was driving them, and avoided diverging too far to the west, they would be sure to strike land eventually, either in Ireland or in England, or perhaps in Brittany. So they screwed up their courage and rode out the storm. Once or twice they managed to discern familiar stars, and they trusted that they would find their way.

Their chief worry concerned the slaves, who, though they now had no work to do at the oars, became poorly with fear and sea-sickness and the wet and cold, so that all of them were green and their teeth chattered; and a couple of them died. They had little warm clothing on the ship, and each day it blew colder, for the autumn was by now far advanced. Orm and his men pitied the wretchedness of the slaves and tended them as well as they could; and to such of them as had stomach to eat they gave the best food, for they knew that these slaves would be valuable booty if they could bring them safely to land.

At last the storm died down, and for a whole day they enjoyed fine weather and a good wind and held their course to the northeast; and the slaves perked up, encouraged by the sun. But that evening the wind dropped completely, and a fog descended on them and began to thicken. It was cold and damp, so that they all trembled with the cold, the slaves most of all; no breath of wind came, and the ship lay still and tossing in a heavy swell.

Orm said: “This is a pretty pass we have come to. If we stay here and wait for the wind, the slaves will die of cold; but if we make them row, they will die just as surely, in the wretched state they are in now. Though we have precious little to row by while we can see neither sun nor stars.”

“I think we should make them row,” said Rapp, “to warm them up a little. We can steer with the swell, for that gale was blowing from the south; and we have nothing else to guide us while this fog holds.”

They thought Rapp’s advice good, and the slaves were made to take up their oars, which they did amid much grousing; and, indeed, they had little strength for the task. The men took turns again at beating time on the bell, and it seemed to their ears to sound more sweetly than before, with a long peal following each stroke, so that she was of good comfort to them in the fog. At intervals they allowed the slaves to rest awhile and sleep; but, apart from this, they rowed the whole night through, steering with the swell, while the fog hugged them closely and incessantly.

When morning came, ögmund was at the helm, with Rapp sounding the bell, while the others slept. Suddenly the two men listened, and stared at each other, and then listened anew. A faint peal had sounded from far away. Much astonished, they roused the others, and all strained their ears. The note was repeated several times, and it seemed to them to come from forward.

“It sounds as though we are not the only sailors who are rowing to a bell,” said Toke.

“Let us proceed softly,” said Grinulf, “for this may be Ran and her daughters, who seduce men at sea with music and enchantments.”

“It sounds to me more like dwarfs at an anvil,” said Halle, “and it would be no fun to make their acquaintance. Perhaps we are near some island where trolls hold sway.”

The peal still rang out faintly from the distance. All of them were now in a cold sweat, and they waited to hear what Orm should say. The slaves, too, listened, and began to chatter eagerly among themselves; but the tongues they spoke were unknown to Orm and his men.

“What this may be, no man can tell,” said Orm, “but let us not be frightened at so small a thing. Let us row on as we have done up to now, and keep our eyes skinned. For my part, I have never heard of witchery practiced by morning light.”

They agreed with this, and the rowing continued; meanwhile the distant note began to grow clearer. Light puffs of wind stirred their hair, and the fog thinned; then, suddenly, they all cried out that they spied land. It was a rocky coast and appeared to be either an island or a promontory. They could not doubt that the sound had come from this spot, though it had now ceased. They saw green grass, and some goats grazing: also two or three huts, beside which men stood staring out to sea.

“These do not look to me like trolls,” said Orm, “or the daughters of Ran either. Let us go ashore and find out where we have come to.”

They did so; and the men of the island showed no fear at seeing armed men come ashore, but came cheerfully toward them and greeted them. They were six in number, all old men, with white beards and long brown cloaks; and no one could understand what they said.

“To what land have we come?” asked Orm. “And whose men are you?”

One of the old men understood his words and cried to the others: “Lochlannach! Lochlannach!”
1
Then he answered Orm in the latter’s tongue: “You have come to Ireland, and we are the servants of St. Finnian.”

When Orm and his men heard this, they were overcome with joy, for they thought they must be nearly home. They could now see that they had landed on a small island, and beyond it they could discern the Irish coast. On this small island there lived only the old men and their goats.

The old men conversed among themselves eagerly and in amazement; then the one who understood Norse said to Orm: “You speak the tongue of the Northmen, and I understand that tongue, for in my young days I associated much with the Northmen before I came to this island. But certain it is that I have never seen men from Lochlann dressed as you and your men are dressed. Where do you come from? Are you white or black Lochlannachs?
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And how is it that you come sailing to the sound of a bell? Today is St. Brandan’s day, and we rang our bell to pay homage to his memory; then we heard your bell reply from the sea, and we supposed that it might be St. Brandan himself answering us, for he was a great sailor. But in Jesus Christ’s name, are you all baptized men, that you come sailing with this holy sound?”

“The old man can gab,” said Toke. “There is a mouthful for you to answer there, Orm.”

Orm replied to the old man: “We are black Lochlannachs, men of King Harald’s land, though whether King Harald still lives I do not know, for we have been a long while from home. But our cloaks and garments are Spanish, for we have come from Andalusia, where we served a great lord named Almansur. And our bell is called James, and comes from the church in Asturia where the apostle James lies buried, and it is the biggest of all the bells there; but how and why it has accompanied us on our journey is too long a story to be told now. We have heard of this Christ you speak of, but where we come from he is held in no great honor, and we are not baptized. But as you are Christians, you may be glad to hear that we have Christian men at our oars. They are our slaves, and come from the same place as the bell; but they have been badly knocked about on our journey and are worth but little now. It would be a good thing if they could come ashore here and rest for a while before we continue on our journey homewards. You need fear nothing from us, for you seem to be good men, and we use no violence toward those who do not try to oppose us. We could make use of a few of your goats, but you will suffer no other loss, for we do not intend to stay long here.”

When it was explained to the old men what he had said, they wagged their heads and whispered among themselves; and their spokesman said that they often welcomed seafaring men on their island, and that no man did them harm.

“For we ourselves do harm to no man,” he said, “and we have no possessions apart from these goats and our boats and huts; the whole isle else is St. Finnian’s Isle, and he is powerful in the sight of God and holds his hand over us. This year he has blessed our goats generously, so that you shall not lack for sustenance. Welcome therefore to the little we can offer you; and for us old men, who sit here year after year in loneliness, it will be a joy to listen to the story of your travels.”

So the slaves were brought ashore and the ship was beached; and Orm and his men rested on St. Finnian’s Isle, living in peaceful harmony with the monks. They fished with them, making fine catches, and fed the slaves so that they looked less wretched; and Orm and the others had to recount all their adventures for the monks to hear, for, though they had difficulty in following his words, the old men were eager for news of distant lands. But most of all they marveled at the bell, which was larger than any they had heard of in Ireland. They acclaimed it as a mighty miracle that St. James and St. Finnian had spoken to each other with their bells from afar; and sometimes at their holy services they smote the bell of St. James instead of their own and rejoiced aloud as its great clang echoed out across the sea.

1.
“Men of the lakes.”

2.
I.e., Norwegians or Danes.

WHILE they were resting with the monks of St. Finnian, Orm and his men deliberated deeply what course they should take once the slaves had recovered sufficiently for them to be able to proceed on their voyage. They were all eager to get back home, Orm no less than the others; nor was there much danger of encountering pirates at this time of year, when few ships were at sea. But the going was likely to be hard in the winter weather, which in turn might well result in the slaves dying on their hands; it would therefore, they thought, perhaps be wisest to sell them as soon as possible. For that, they could sail either down to Limerick, where Orm’s father was well known, or up to Cork, where Olof of the Precious Stones had for long been the biggest dealer in slaves in these parts. They asked the monks which they thought would be the best plan for them to follow.

When the monks understood what their guests wanted to know, they chattered eagerly to one another and were apparently much amused; then their spokesman said: “It is plain that you come from distant parts and know little about the way things are in Ireland now. It will not be easy for you to trade in Limerick, or in Cork either; for Brian Boru is powerful in Ireland now, and though you hail from a far country, you have probably heard of him.”

Orm said that he had often heard his father speak of a King Brian, who waged war against the Vikings in Limerick.

“He does not wage war against them any longer,” said the monk. “At first he was the chieftain of the Dalcassians; then the Vikings in Limerick waged war against him. After that, he became King of Thomond, and then he waged war against them. In time he became King of the whole of Munster, and then he stormed Limerick and killed most of the Vikings there; those that were not killed fled. So now he is the greatest warrior and hero in Ireland, King of Munster, and Lord of Leinster; and such foreigners as remain in our coastal cities pay tribute to him. At present he is waging war against Malachy, who is King of all our kings in Ireland, to win his wife and his power from him. Olof of the Precious Stones pays him tribute and has to send him soldiers to help him with his war against King Malachy; and even Sigtrygg Silk-Beard of Dublin, who is the most powerful of all the foreign chieftains in Ireland, has paid him tribute on two occasions.”

“These are grave tidings,” said Orm; “and this King Brian appears indeed to be a mighty chieftain, though it may be that we have seen a mightier. But even if all that you say is true, I do not see why this should prevent us from selling our slaves to him.”

“King Brian does not buy slaves,” said the monk, “for he takes all that he requires from his neighbors and from the men of Lochlann. Besides which, it is known that there are three things that he covets more than anything else in the world, and three things that he abominates—and these last will be to your disadvantage. The things that he covets are these: supreme power, which he has already; the greatest quantity of gold, which he also has; and the most beautiful woman, whom all the world knows to be Gormlaith, the sister of Maelmore, King of Leinster. Her he has yet to win. She was formerly married to King Olof Kvaran of Dublin, who got rid of her because of the sharpness of her tongue; now she is wed to Malachy, the King of our kings, who so disports himself in her boudoirs that he is hardly fit to take the field any more. When Brian has defeated Malachy he will win Gormlaith, for he never fails to get what he wants. But the three things that he most abominates are heathens, men from Lochlann, and poets who praise other kings. His hatred is as violent as his greed, and nothing can assuage either of them; so, since you are heathens and Lochlannachs to boot, we would not advise you to approach him too nearly, for we do not want to see you killed.”

The men listened attentively to all this and agreed that it would be unrewarding to trade with King Brian. Orm said: “It seems to me that the James bell was a good guide to us when it led us to your isle and not to King Brian’s kingdom.”

“St. Finnian’s bell helped you, too,” said the monk; “and now that you have seen what the saints can do, even for heathens, would it not be a wise thing for you to start believing in God and become Christians?”

Orm said that he had not given the matter much consideration and that he did not think there was any urgency about deciding.

“It may be more urgent than you know,” said the monk, “for there are now only eleven years left till the end of the world, when Christ will appear in the sky and judge all mortal men. Before this happens, all heathens will do well to be baptized; and it would be foolish of you to be among the last to do so. Unbelievers are now going over to God in greater numbers than ever before, so that in a short while there will be few of them left in their darkness; and certain it is that the coming of Christ is presently imminent, for the wickedest heathen of all, King Harald of Denmark, has just been baptized. Now, therefore, is the time for you to do as he has done and abandon your false gods and embrace the true faith.”