The Long Ships (66 page)

“Perhaps,” said Orm, “some men prefer to grow old ashore rather than to risk encountering that surest of all cures for age that seafarers sometimes meet with.”

“I smell many odors,” said Blackhair in a distressed voice, “but think none of them good.”

“That is because you are unaccustomed to them and know no better,” replied Orm. “It may be that the sea-smell here is not so rich as that in the west, for there the sea is greener with salt and so has a richer tang to it. But this smell is nothing to complain of.”

To this Blackhair made no reply, for the seasickness had come over him. At first he was much ashamed of this, but his shame became less when he saw that many of the inland-dwellers were also beginning to hang over the ship’s side. One and another of them were soon heard to beg in unsteady voices that the ship might be turned back at once, before they all perished.

Orm and Toke, however, stood by the steering-oar and found everything to their liking.

“They will have to grow used to it, poor wretches,” said Orm. “I, too, once suffered thus.”

“Look at Sone’s sons,” said Toke. “Now they have something besides their father’s prophecy to worry about. It takes time for landlubbers to appreciate the beauty of life at sea. With this wind, though, they can vomit to windward without its blowing back into the face of the next man, and many quarrels between irritable persons will thereby be avoided. But I doubt whether they appreciate this. Understanding does not come naturally to a man at sea, but only by experience.”

“It comes in time,” said Orm, “however painful the process. If the wind drops, they will have to take to the oars, and I fear those who are not used to rowing will find the sport somewhat strenuous in such a sea as this. Then they will look back regretfully on the time when they were free to vomit in peace and had no need to toil.”

“Let us make Olof overseer,” said Toke. “The task needs someone who is used to commanding obedience.”

“Obeyed he may be,” said Orm, “but his popularity will suffer for it. It is a hard office for a man to perform, and hardest when the rowers are free men who are not used to the whip.”

“It will occupy his mind,” said Toke. “From his face, his thoughts would appear to be elsewhere; which I can well understand.”

Olof Summerbird was in a deep melancholy. He had seated himself on the deck beside them; he looked sleepy and said little. After a while he mumbled that he was unsure whether it was the sea-sickness or the lovesickness that was weighing on him, and asked whether they would be putting in to land for the night. Orm and Toke agreed, however, that this would be unwise if the wind held and the sky remained clear.

“To do so,” said Toke, “would merely be pandering to the landlubbers, more than one of whom, I doubt not, would disappear during the night. For they would easily be able to find their way home from here, happy at having escaped further misery. But by the time we reach Gotland, they will have found their sea-legs, and there we shall be safely able to let them ashore.”

Olof Summerbird sighed and said nothing.

“We shall save much food, besides, by keeping on our course,” said Orm. “For if we went ashore, they would eat a good meal, and then vomit it up again the next day, so that it would be wasted.”

In this he was right; for the wind remained favorable to them, and barely half of the men succeeded in doing themselves justice at mealtimes before they sighted Gotland. Blackhair soon collected himself, and Glad Ulf had been used to the sea from boyhood; and they took great pleasure in munching their food and praising its quality, watched by pale men who had no stomach to eat. But as soon as they reached calmer water near Gotland the men began to find their appetite, and Orm thought he had never seen such gluttony as they now displayed.

“But I must not grudge it them,” he said, “and now, perhaps, they will begin to be of some use.”

In the harbor of the Gotland Vi so many ships lay at anchor that Orm was at first doubtful whether it would be wise to sail in. But they took down the dragon-head, set up a shield of peace in its place, and rowed in without any ship opposing their passage. The town was very great, and full of seamen and rich merchants; and when Orm’s men came ashore, they found much to marvel at. There were houses built entirely of stone, and others erected for the sole purpose of drinking ale in; and the wealth of the town was such that whores walked the streets with rings of pure gold in their ears and spat at any man who had not a fistful of silver to offer for their services. But one thing in this town they marveled at most of all and refused to believe in till they had actually seen it. This was a man from the Saxons’ land who spent the whole of every day scraping the beards from the chins of the rich men of the town. For this he received a copper coin from every man he scraped, even when he had cut them so that they bled freely. Orm’s men thought this a more astonishing custom than any they had ever before seen or heard tell of, and one that would be unlikely to afford a man much pleasure.

Olof Summerbird was now in a more cheerful humor, and he and Orm went in search of a skillful helmsman. Few men remained on board, for all wanted to stretch their legs and refresh themselves. Toke, however, stayed behind to guard the ship.

“The ale these Gothlanders brew is so good,” he said, “that once, when I was a young man, I drank somewhat too deeply of it in this very harbor. As a result, I became miserable and killed a man, and only with difficulty managed to swim away with my life. These Gothlanders have a long memory, and it would be an ill thing if I were to be recognized and taken to task for such an old and trivial offense when we have important work ahead of us; so I shall remain on board. But I would advise such of you as go ashore to conduct yourselves peacefully, for they have little patience with strangers who cause disturbances.”

Some while later Orm and Olof came aboard with the helmsman they had chosen. He was a small, thickset, grizzled man called Spof. He had been many times in the East and knew all the routes, and would not agree to go with them until he had carefully inspected the whole ship. He said little, but nodded at most of what he saw. Finally he asked to be allowed to sample the ship’s ale. This was the ale that Orm had had specially brewed in the estuary before they had embarked, and nobody had yet found cause to complain of it. Spof tasted it and stood thinking.

“Is this all the ale you have?” he said.

“Is it not good enough?” said Orm.

“It is good enough to drink during the voyage,” said Spof, “and I shall not object to drinking it. Now, these men you have with you, are they meek and submissive, addicted to hard work and easily contented?”

“Easily contented?” said Orm. “That they are not; indeed, the only time they do not complain is when the seasickness is upon them. Nor did I choose them for the meekness of their nature; and as for hard work, I do not think they like it better than most men.”

Spof nodded thoughtfully.

“It is as I feared,” he said. “We shall arrive at the great portage in the worst of the summer heat, and you will need better portageale than this if all is to go well.”

“Portage-ale?” said Orm to Toke.

“We Gothlanders,” said Spof, “have sailed the rivers of Gardarike more often than other men and have penetrated them farthest. We know all their currents and hazards, even beyond the portage of the Meres, beyond which no man has voyaged in large ships save we. And it is thanks to our portage-ale that we have succeeded in making progress there, where all other men have been forced to turn back. This ale needs to be of extraordinary strength and flavor, so that it fortifies the spirit and cheers the heart; and it is to be given to the men only while they are hauling the ship across the portage. At no other time during the voyage must they be allowed to drink it. This device have we Gothlanders invented, and because of it we brew finer ale than any other people, for on the excellence of it our wealth depends.”

“Unless I am much mistaken,” said Orm, “this ale is not to be bought at a low price.”

“It is dearer than other ales,” replied Spof, “in proportion as it is superior to them; possibly a fraction more. But it is well worth its price, for without its help no ship can cross the portage into the hinterland of Gardarike.”

“How much shall we need?” asked Orm.

“Let me see,” said Spof. “Twenty-four oars; sixty-six men; Kiev. That will involve seven small portages, but they will not be difficult. It is the great portage to the Dnieper that presents the problem. I think that five of our largest barrels will suffice.”

“Now I understand,” said Orm, “why most men prefer to sail westwards.”

And when he had paid for the ale and had given Spof half of his hire-money for the voyage, he began to wish more strongly still that Are’s treasure had been buried in some river in west-oversea instead of in Gardarike. As he reckoned out the silver, he mumbled heavily that he would never reach Kiev save as a beggar, armed only with his staff, for he would certainly have pawned his ship and weapons to the Gothlanders long before he sighted its walls.

“Still, you seem to me to be a good man, Spof,” he said, “possessing both cunning and wisdom; and it may be that I shall not regret hiring you as my helmsman, though your price is high.”

“It is with me as with the portage-ale,” replied Spof, unoffended. “I am expensive, but I am worth my price.”

They remained at anchor in the Gotland Vi for three days, and Spof ordered the men to carpenter strong cradles to hold the ale-casks firmly in position, until everything was as he wanted it. The ale occupied a deal of room and weighted the ship heavily, but the men did not grumble at the extra labor it would cost them, for they had already sampled it in the town and knew its flavor. By the end of their first day ashore many of them had drunk up all their silver and besought Orm to advance them part of their hire-money for the voyage, but nobody succeeded in persuading him to comply with this request. Some of the men then tried to barter their skin jackets in exchange for ale, and others their helmets, and when the Gothlanders refused to accept them, fights were started, as the result of which law-men from the town came to the ship demanding stern compensation. Orm and Olof Summerbird sat arguing with them for half a day until they had reduced their original demands by half, though even that sum, Orm thought, was more than sufficiently large. Thereafter they let no man ashore without first divesting him of his weapons.

Sone’s sons were well supplied with silver of their own and drank deeply in the town, but found it difficult, none the less, to put their father’s prophecy wholly out of their minds. On the second day ten of them returned to the ship, carrying the eleventh, who was on the point of expiring. They had warned him, they said, to control his passions, but in spite of this he had crept up upon a young woman whom he had seen chopping cabbages behind a cottage and had managed, by persuasive use of his tongue and hands, to put her on her back. He had no sooner done this, however, than a crone had emerged from the house, picked up the chopper, and deposited it in his head, which they had not been able to prevent.

Toke examined the wound and said that the man had not long to live. He died during the night, and his brothers buried him sadly and drank to a lucky death voyage for him.

“It was his fate to die thus,” they said. “When the old man sees, he sees the truth.”

But although they mourned their brother and had nought but good to speak of him, it was noticeable that something of their melancholy had been lifted from them. For now, they reminded each other, there was bad luck in store for three of them only, so that a quarter of their troubles were past.

The next morning they put out to sea and steered northwards, with Spof at the helm. Orm said that how they might fare in the future was uncertain, but that he dearly cherished one hope at least: namely, that he would not soon find himself anchored in another harbor as ruinous to seafarers as the Gotland Vi.

THEY rounded the tip of Gotland, headed eastwards, past the island of Ösel, and entered the mouth of the river Dvina. This river formed the beginning of the low road to Miklagard, which was that most used by Gothlanders. The high road, which the Swedes favored, went along the coast of the Dead Land,
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up the Vodor River to Ladoga, and thence through Novgorod to the Dnieper.

“Which is the better road no man has yet decided,” said Spof. “I myself cannot say, though I have traveled them both. For the labor of rowing against the current always makes the road one has chosen seem the worse, whichever that may be. But it is lucky for us that we are starting late and so will miss the spring tide.”

The men were in good heart as they entered the river, though they knew there was hard rowing ahead of them. After Orm had arranged matters so that each man should row for three days and rest for one, they proceeded upstream through the country of the Livonians and that of the Semgalls, occasionally passing small fishing villages sited on the banks, and beyond into a land deserted of men, with nothing to see save the river stretching away behind them and dense forest hugging them endlessly on both sides. The men felt awed by this country; and sometimes, when they had gone ashore for the night and were sitting around their fires, they heard a distant roaring that was like the voice of no animal they knew, and murmured to one another that this might, perhaps, be the Iron Forest, which the ancients spoke of, where Loki’s
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progeny still roamed the earth.

One day they met three ships moving down the river abreast, heavily laden and well manned, though with only six pairs of oars out to each ship. They were Gothlanders, on their way home. The men were lean and burned black by the sun, and they glanced curiously at Orm’s ship as it approached them. Some of them recognized Spof and shouted greetings to him; and words were flung across from ship to ship as they glided slowly past. They had come from Great Bulgaria, on the river Volga, and had rowed down the river to the Salt Sea,
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where they had traded with the Arabs. They were carrying a good cargo home, they said: fabrics, silver bowls, slave-girls, wine, and pepper; and three men in the second ship held up a naked young woman and dangled her over the side by her arms and hair, crying that she was for sale for twelve marks between friends. The woman shrieked and struggled, fearful lest she should fall into the water, and Orm’s men drew deep breaths at the sight of her; but when, nobody having made an offer, the men drew her in again, she screamed foul words and thrust her tongue out at them.