TLV - 03 - The Sign of the Raven (26 page)

Harold swung his legs to the floor. Sweat studded his face. "God help us," he groaned.

Then, jerkily, he got to his feet. "Call my servants. Have the Housecarles summoned
...
the chiefs . . . everyone. Yes, now!"

He sent word north, bidding the Alfgarssons wait and avoid battle until he could arrive. With his brother Leofwin, his Housecarles and thanes, and such levies as could be raised in a couple of days, he took the road. The first day he had to be carried in a litter, but thereafter he mounted a horse; and it was as if every mile put his sickness that much further behind him.

It was a hundred and eighty miles from London to Tadcaster. Harold made the journey in four days. Belike his Housecarles were the only troops in the world who could have done it and still been ready to fight at the end; but as they fared, more and more shire levies joined them, until he had many thousands at his back.

Leofwin blew out his lips and said in a voice dulled by weariness: "I'd not thought it possible."

"We are Englishmen," said Harold with a laugh. "We show ourselves best when the need is greatest."

"Ever have you been thus, brother." Leofwin shook his head. "I mind the time we sat friendless outlaws in Dublin, and even then . . . even then you must have known you would be king." He tried to smile. "This Harald Hardrede is said to be the greatest warrior in the North. What a sight the meeting of you two will be!"

Harold looked unhappy. "I would we could be friends, he and I," he said. "We are too much akin to smite each other when a stranger to us both gathers strength across the Channel."

His gaze was moody down the road. "Since the oldest days . . . Northerner against Northerner, till the old North destroys itself and is forgotten. We'll have need of God's grace."

He reached Tadcaster on the Sunday and gave himself at once to mustering the ships that had fled into the wharf from the Norse fleet. There his cousin Earl Waltheof, who had ridden from York, found him and gave the news.

Harold's face did not change. "They left no garrison in the city?" he asked.

"No, my lord. But they took hostages. . . ."

"Many lives will be at hazard tomorrow. We can't reckon with those few. Come, we ride!"

Harold's army reached York at night. The townsfolk streamed out to watch in disbelief
...
It could not be! The king ordered the gates guarded; no word must slip out to the enemy. Then he sought Edwin and Morkar in their hall.

The brothers awaited him white-lipped. "We had not thought you would be here this soon," mumbled Edwin. "We would have held the town if . . ."

"Why, no matter," said Harold cheerily. "The town is still ours, without loss of life in defending it . . . though best you keep watch over those whose kinfolk are prisoner." He rubbed bloodshot eyes. "You were to meet Hardrede tomorrow?"

"Aye—at Stamford Bridge."

"We will meet him indeed," said Harold.

XIV

How They Fought at Stamford Bridge

1

That Monday broke cloudless, and even the early morning was unseasonably hot. Harald awoke in time to see the sun lift out of the east and flash off night dew. Now it shines on Thora, he thought, and Ellisif is at matins to pray for me.

He dressed well, in blue kirtle and breeches, and entered the main room of the house he had taken. His chiefs were already there, and meat and drink on the table. They rose for him, and he took the end of the bench and ate hungrily. The ale was a cool tingle at the back of his throat.

"Well," he said, "today we get our other hostages. I'll lead two parts of the host we have thither, and go on to Aldby with them to meet our men there. Do you keep one third here, Eystein, to guard the ships till we can decide what's to be done next."

The sheriff smiled. "Thank you," he said. "This is not weather in which I'd care to travel." Harald told off Olaf, Tosti's boys, and the
Thorbergssons to stay behind with the guards, and then let the summons be blown for his men. While they readied, he strolled out to the riverbank and stood under the
Fafnir
's
dragon head. The sunlight flamed off its gold.

"A good ship," he murmured. "She's borne me to two great victories. Eystein, is aught more fair than a ship?"

"Well
..."
The sheriff's gaze yearned northward.

Harald laughed. "Wait a bit, lad," he said, "till you're my jarl in England."

"Sometimes I think there are greater riches than gold and land," said Eystein. He reddened and added swiftly: "But you've been like a father to me, and I'll follow you as long as we both live, and if . . . aught of evil happens, I swear to avenge you."

Harald thought of his leman Thora. It was the same quick spirit that lay in her.

His two-thirds of the host were now gathered, spreading up from the river and across the land in a blink of spears and helmets. Because of the heat, few of them wore byrn
ies. He saw that Gunnar Geirodd
sson did, belike because it was such a fine gold-trimmed piece of mail. Since he would be riding, Harald strapped Emma and the padded undercoat to his horse's back, and Tosti did likewise; but Styrkaar, Thjodholf, and most of the other mounted chiefs did not take the trouble. They had only a peaceful walk to meet a band of broken men.

The king sprang into the saddle, and Kolfaxi reared. His helmet gleamed like a dragon's hoard.

"Till we meet again!" he cried, and went to the front of his men.

Eystein and Olaf stood beneath the
Fafnir
's
prow, looking after his towering form till it was lost to sight. "Glad I am that I need not go today," said the prince. He glanced at the hostage children, where they sat under guard. They had not been ill treated, but most were silent with terror and some had been weeping. "This is an ugly business."

The sheriff tugged his mustache. "Oftimes men must fight," he answered.

"Aye . . . but why to take what is not theirs?"

"A thing is only yours if you're strong enough to hold it."

"That's not right," said Olaf in a low voice. "Were I king, I'd set the law above myself too."

"Your father is not such a man," said Eystein. "He stands above all things. Had the time been a better one, he would have shaped the world as he chose. And still he has the boldness to try." He yawned and stretched himself. "Come, let's have some more ale and then, if you like, a ball game and a swim. The river looks cool."

Harald rode in the forefront of his army, Styrkaar Marshal to the right and Thjodholf and Tosti to the left. Behind them was Fridhrek with Land waster furled on the long staff; thereafter came a few others on horseback, and then the host, nodding spears and slogging feet under a haze of dust, jokes passing from mouth to bearded mouth and raucous laughter following.

"Did we need to take this many?" asked Thjodholf.

"It's as well to do so," said Styrkaar. "We've had it too easy since Fulford; the men grow bored and restless. And we must move them to Aldby anyway."

The sky was a brazen bowl overhead, the sun a molten glare in their eyes as they went east toward the Derwent. Harald felt sweat trickle from under his helmet and down his cheeks.

"When think you my namesake will arrive?" he asked.

"Shortly," replied Tosti. "He's a brisk man. It would be deadly to reckon him at less than his true worth."

The landscape inched away past them, rolling hills and clumps of forest. Leaves hung wilted on the trees, not a breath of air to stir them, and speckled the road with shadow. The grasses rustled dryly beneath men who walked in the fields. Down in the ranks, Gunnar lifted a crock of beer to his mouth.

"How was your little friend?" asked someone.

"Oh, most sweet," said Gunnar. His round face glistened with sweat, and foam flecked his stubbly beard. "I promised to come back later and marry her. But sith there be five girls in Norway what have the same promise
..."

"Haw! Twenty years hence, the whole North will be overrun by freckle-snouted beer-guzzling axmen. I would I knew how you do it."

"Well
..."
Gunnar began explaining, as to a child.

"That's not what I meant, you bullhead! I wanted to learn how to win their willingness."

"I know not," said Gunnar, "unless it be the ring

I have with Freyja's sign graven on it."

"Hm. Will you sell that ring?"

"Nay, not for any price. But I might think me to rent it out.
..."

The host fared onward. Harald looked around him in wonder. This was his. Here was land where his house might strike roots and grow till it overshadowed the earth
...
or could it endure another soil than its own? Heat shimmered on the horizon, and his shirt was sweated to his skin. He remembered what someone—Halldor? No, himself—had said down in Kiev, that it was as if the Northmen were ice giants who melted away when they left their homes.

A few farmsteads were in sight, empty of men. But none were to be seen when they reached the Der-went; here was grassland and the flocks had been driven to safety.

Harald paused for a look at the river. At this point, swollen by the rainy summer, it ran wide and deep between high, reedy banks. Something of remorselessness was in that brown southward flow. It gurgled and murmured around the piers of the bridge—a narrow wooden bridge with a single handrail and the road going on dusty gray beyond. Trees lined the stream, sun-speckled greenness of ash and willow whose shade was utterly black against the light.

"Where are the Englishmen?" asked Harald.

"They should come soon," replied Tosti. "We've moved fast. It's just a little past midday."

"If they don't . . ." Styrkaar's heavy face writhed into a scowl. "We'll lay the whole north country in ashes."

"Time enough for that if they fail us," said Thjodholf sharply.

Harald looked at the trees. "A good sign," he said. "The ash is Odhinn's tree, and he is god of victories."

"He is also god of the dead," muttered Thjodholf.

Harald rode across the bridge. The stallion skittered nervously, planks boomed hollow under hooves. The men followed; it took time to get everybody across that thin span. Many scrambled down the banks to drink, and thereafter re-formed their array.

Tosti squinted along the road, which bent south. "I see a dust cloud," he spoke. "It must be the hostages coming."

"It seems me they come with an almighty haste," said Thjodholf.

Harald sat waiting, holding his mount steady. A light breeze sprang up, and he breathed deeply. It smelt drowsy, of hay and harvest. . . Yes, this was the reaping time. At home they would be carting in the last sheaves, and the old, joyously heathen feasts and dances would be held under torchlight. He remembered them from his youth—merciful Christ, how long ago that was, and yet how swiftly the years had run!

The newcomers approached. Something gleamed in their dust, far off but hurrying closer. A sudden chill went through Harald.

"Those are spears and helmets," he said.

Tosti sat moveless, his handsome countenance gone wooden. At last he ventured: "They would scarce come altogether unarmed."

The river mumbled behind them.

"No," said Harald after a while. "There are too many."

"They may be some more of my friends, come to join us," said the earl.

Styrkaar cursed. A whisper went among the men, and shields were raised.

Now Harald saw the strangers a bare mile removed. They were a huge force, spilling over the fields and down the road—thousands of men, he thought wildly, vastly more than he had, and every one of their leading ranks armored. Through the dust, the light shone off their weapons as though blinking off ice.

2

Tosti started up in his stirrups. "The banners!" he yelled.

Harald nodded. There was a bleakness in him, he felt no fear but he knew that he was overmatched—that he, the craftsman of war, had walked blithely into a trap and it had snapped down on him. "I see Edwin's and Morkar's," he said. "So much for the faith of Englishmen."

Tosti gave him an angry look. "I was never a friend to their house," he answered. "You shall find that Englishmen know how to stand fast." He pointed. "But that great flag in the van—" It was royal blue, fringed with gold, and across it strode the golden form of a warrior. "That is my brother Harold's."