The Long Ships (17 page)

All the men stared at him in amazement, and one or two of them burst out laughing and slapped their knees.

“You will soon be telling us,” said Toke, “that he has become a monk like yourself, and shaved off his hair.”

Orm said: “We have traveled far and wide in the world, while you rest here with your brothers on this lonely island; nevertheless, you have greater tidings for us than we have to tell you. But this is no small thing that you ask us to believe, when you tell us that King Harald has turned Christian; and I think the most likely explanation is that some seafarer has put this idea into your heads, knowing that you are simple and credulous and thinking to make sport of you.”

But the monk insisted that he had spoken the truth and had not merely repeated some sailor’s yarn. For they had heard this great news from the mouth of their own Bishop, when he had visited them two years before; and on each of the next seven Sundays they had offered thanks to God, on behalf of all Christians whose homes had been visited by the Vikings, for the great victory He had gained.

This persuaded the men that the monk had told them the truth, though they found it none the less difficult to believe such remarkable tidings.

“He is himself descended from Odin,” they said, staring at one another in amazement; “how, then, can he bind himself to any other god?”

“All his life he has had great good luck,” they said; “and this was granted to him by the æsir; his fleets have sailed against the Christians and have returned home laden with their wealth. What can he want with the Christians' God?”

They shook their heads and sat dumbfounded.

“He is old now,” said Grinulf, “and it may be that he has become a child again, as King Ane of Uppsala did in former times. For kings drink stronger ale than other men, and have many women; and that can tire a man over the years, so that his understanding darkens and he no longer knows what he is doing. But men who are kings do as they please, even when wisdom has passed from them. Perhaps that is how King Harald has become ensnared into these Christian beliefs.”

The men nodded assent, and recounted stories of people in their homeland who had grown peculiar in their old age and had caused their families great trouble by their crooked fancies; and they all agreed that it was no good thing for a man to live until his teeth fell out and his understanding began to languish. The monks pointed out that worse things than that would befall them, for when the Day of Judgment arrived, in eleven years' time, they would be dragged suddenly out of the earth. But the men replied that they would worry about that when the time came, and that they were not going to bother to go over to Christ for the fear of that.

Orm had much to occupy his mind, for he had to decide what course they would do best to take, seeing that they did not dare to go inland to the markets. At length he said to his men: “It is a fine thing to be a chieftain when there is booty to be divided up and ale to be handed around, but less desirable when there are plans to be made; and I have not been able to think out anything very good. Certain it is that we must sail now, for the slaves are as fit as they ever will be as the result of their rest here and the good food they have had; and the longer we delay, the more difficult our journey will be, because of the weather. The best plan seems to me to be to sail to King Harald, for in his court there are many rich men who will be likely to give us a good price for our slaves; and if he has in fact turned Christian, we have a fine gift to offer him, which should bring us at once into his favor. For my part, I would rather enter his service than sit at home as the youngest son in my father’s house, if indeed the old man and Odd, my brother, are still alive, which I do not know; and those of you who yearn to return to your homes will have an easy journey from his court to Blekinge, once we have completed the sale and shared out the money. But the main problem will be to see that the slaves do not die when we come up into the cold of the northern waters.”

Then he told the monks that he was prepared to drive a bargain with them. If they gave him all the goatskins they had, together with such clothes as they could spare, he would let them keep the two feeblest of his slaves; for if he took them with him on the voyage, they would die, while if they stayed ashore and regained their health, they would be useful to the monks. In addition to this, he was willing to give them some Andalusian silver coins. The monks laughed, and said that this was a better bargain than most Irishmen managed to drive with Lochlannachs, but that they would most of all like to have the James bell. Orm, however, replied that he could not spare this, and the bargain was concluded on the basis of his original proposal, so that the slaves were provided with something in the way of winter clothing.

They smoked fish and goat’s meat to provision themselves for the voyage, taking besides a quantity of the turnips that the monks grew. The monks helped them with everything, behaving in the most friendly way toward them, and did not complain about their herd of goats being reduced to such small proportions by their guests; the only things that worried them were that the holy bell was going to remain in heathen hands, and that Orm and his men would not realize what was best for them and become Christians. When the time came to say farewell, they made one last effort to convince their departing friends of the truth about Christ and St. Finnian and the Day of Judgment, and all the things that would befall them if they neglected to be converted to the true faith. Orm replied that he had little time just then to attend to such matters, but added that he would be a poor chieftain if he went away without giving them some token of gratitude for all the hospitality they had shown toward him and his men. Then, putting his hand into his belt, he drew out three gold pieces and gave them to the monks.

When Toke saw this, he laughed to see such openhandedness; but then he said that he was as rich a man as Orm, and that he intended in due course to marry into one of the best houses in Lister and become a great man in his district. So he, too, gave the monks three gold pieces, while they stood amazed to see such munificence. The other men did not become greatly enthusiastic over the example of their leaders, but for the sake of their good names they, too, gave something; all except Grinulf. The others chaffed him for his thrift, but he grinned with his crooked mouth and scratched the beard on his cheek and was content with the way he had acted.

“I am no chieftain,” he said, “besides which I am beginning to grow old; no girl is going to marry me and bring me a fine house to live in, and no gammer neither. So I am only being prudent in being thrifty.”

When the slaves had been led aboard again and chained to their places, Orm sailed away from St. Finnian’s Isle and headed eastwards along the Irish coast. They had a strong wind to help them and made good progress. All of them were troubled by the autumn cold, despite the fact that they had swathed themselves in goatskins; for Orm and his men had by now been such a long time in the south that they felt the cold in their bones more than they had been wont to. Nevertheless, they were all in good heart at being so near to their homeland, and their only anxiety was lest they should be intercepted by other of their countrymen who might be in these waters; so they kept a sharp lookout, for the monks had said that Vikings from Denmark were to be seen in greater numbers than ever around the English coasts now that most of Ireland had been closed to them by the might of King Brian, so that England was now regarded as being the best hunting-ground. In order, therefore, to avoid encountering other Viking ships, Orm kept the ship well out from the land as they steered up through the English Channel. They had good luck, for they met no ships; so they emerged into the open sea and felt the spray of the waves growing colder and sailed on until they sighted the coast of Jutland. Then they all laughed for joy, for it gladdened their hearts to see Danish soil once more; and they pointed out to one another the various landmarks that they had sighted when they had sailed southwards with Krok long before.

They rounded the Skaw and steered southwards, coming into the lee of the land; and now the slaves had to row again, as well as they could, while the bell of James sang the stroke. Here Orm spoke with some men in fishing-boats who crossed their course, and discovered from them how far they were from Jellinge, where King Harald Bluetooth held his court. Then they polished their weapons and saw to their clothing, so that they might appear before the King in a manner befitting men of worth.

Early one morning they rowed up to Jellinge and made their ship fast to a pier. From where they lay they could see the royal castle, surrounded by a stockade. There were some huts down by the pier, and people came out of them and stared curiously at Orm and his men, for they had the mien and appearance of foreigners. Then the men lifted the bell ashore, using the same platform and rollers that they had employed in Asturia; and while they did so, a crowd of astonished spectators gathered from the huts to gaze upon so great a wonder and to learn where these foreigners had come from. Orm and his men found it very strange to hear their own language being spoken by others again, after having lived among foreigners for so many years. They released the slaves from their chains and harnessed them to the bell, to pull it up to the King.

Suddenly they heard cries and sounds of confusion from the direction of the castle and saw a fat man in a long cowl come running toward them down the hill. He was shaven, and wore a silver cross at his breast and terror in his face. He arrived breathlessly at the huts and, flinging his arms wide apart, cried: “Leeches! Leeches! Is there no merciful soul here who can give us leeches? I must have blood-leeches immediately, fresh and strong.”

They could tell he was a foreigner, but he spoke the Danish tongue deftly, though he was gasping for breath.

“Our leeches up in the castle have fallen sick and lost their appetite,” he continued, panting, “and leeches are the only thing to relieve him when he has the toothache. In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost, is there nobody here who has any leeches?”

No one in the huts had leeches, however, and the fat priest groaned and began to look desperate. He had by this time arrived down at the pier where Orm’s ship was lying at anchor, and there, suddenly, he caught sight of the bell and the men surrounding it. His eyes emerged slowly from their sockets, and he ran forward to examine it more closely.

“What is this?” he cried. “A bell, a holy bell? Am I dreaming? Is this a real bell, or is it a fabrication of the Devil? How has it come here, to this land of darkness and evil spirits? Never in my life have I seen such a magnificent bell, not even in the Emperor’s own cathedral at Worms.”

“It is called James, after an apostle,” said Orm; “and we have brought it here from the apostle’s church in Asturia. We heard that King Harald had turned Christian, and thought such a gift would please him.”

“A miracle, a miracle!” cried the priest, bursting into tears of relief and stretching his arms heavenwards. “God’s angels have turned to us in our hour of need, when our leeches sickened. This is better medicine than leeches. But hurry, hurry! Delay is dangerous, for he has the ache badly.”

The slaves dragged the bell slowly up toward the castle, while the priest exhorted the men incessantly to use all the strength they had to pull it faster. He kept up a continual chatter, as though he had taken leave of his senses, mopping his eyes and turning his face skywards and crying out fragments of sacred jargon. Orm and the others gathered that the King had toothache, but could not make out what good their bell was expected to do. But the priest babbled about how lucky something was and called them messengers of God and said that everything would now be all right.

“He has not many teeth left in his mouth, praised be Almighty God!” he said, “but those that he has cause us as much trouble as all the other machinations contrived by the Devil in the whole of this barbarous land. For, despite his age, they often cause him pain, all except the two blue ones; and when they begin to ache he is dangerous to approach, and blasphemes immoderately. There was a time this summer, when one of his molars was hurting him, when he almost sent Brother Willibald to join the martyrs; for he hit him on the head with the big crucifix, which should properly only be used for the soothing of pain. Brother Willibald is himself again now, praise the Lord, but he was sick and dizzy for many weeks. We resigned our lives to the mercy of God, Brother Willibald and I, when we came with Bishop Poppo to this land of darkness with our gospel and our skill in healing; still, it seems a waste to be threatened with martyrdom for the sake of a couple of old teeth. Nor are we permitted to draw any of them out. This he has forbidden us to do, on pain of death, for he says that he is not prepared to become like some old King of the Swedes who ended up drinking milk from a horn. You see the difficulties and dangers we endure from this King in our zeal to spread the faith—Brother Willibald, who is the wisest doctor in the whole diocese of Bremen, and I myself, who am both doctor and precentor, and am called Brother Matthias.”

He paused for breath, mopping the sweat from his face, and panted at the slaves to move faster. Then he continued: “The chief difficulty we doctors have to put up with in this country is that we have no relics to help us, not even so much as a single one of St. Lazarus' teeth, which are irresistible healers of the toothache and are to be found everywhere else in Christendom. For we missionaries to the heathen are not permitted to carry relics with us, lest they should fall into heathen hands and so become sullied. We have to rely on our prayers and the Cross and earthly means of healing, and sometimes these are not enough. So none of us can heal by spiritual medicine here among the Danes until we have relics to assist us; and the time for that has not yet arrived. For though three Bishops and innumerable minor priests have been killed by the people here, and some of the bodies of these martyrs have been recovered and given Christian burial, so that we know where to find them, yet the Holy Church has ordained that no bones of Bishops or martyrs may be dug up and used for medicine until they have been dead thirty-six years. Until that time comes, this will be a difficult country for doctors to work in.”