VI
The Dane-King’s Daughter
The next day came Thyri the King’s daughter to Biorn and took him apart. “Why didst thou speak that bad song before the King yester-night?” said she.
Biorn, that had naught to say, held his peace.
“I know not what was there save thy song,” said she; “but the King my father was put in a mighty taking and hath slept not a wink the whole night through.”
“I am sorry to hear it,” said Biorn. “Yet ’tis oftener that which goeth in at the mouth hath suchlike force, not songs, which goeth in at the ear.”
“I cannot speak to thee,” said Thyri, “if thou wilt laugh.”
Biorn said, “I laugh no more, King’s daughter.” Thyri looked at him with her large eyes, a strange and shy look. She seemed ill at ease. Biorn thought he could see that she was come to him as to a friend in need, and that this silence of hers was part in doubt whether he were a man to trust, and part for the difficulty of the thing, to speak out her mind and thought to another. “And if I did amiss last night,” he said, “that would please me best if I might serve you now howsoever I may, to pay for that.”
“Well, it is true,” said she at last, “that thou canst do somewhat if thou wilt.”
She fell silent again. Biorn said, to help her, “I can keep counsel.”
“Yes, that first,” she said. “Most of all, thou must not tell Styrbiorn. I think thou art his friend?” And she blushed red.
“Not friend only, but very foster-brother,” answered he.
“And thou must not let him know aught of this,” said Thyri, “not with word nor look.”
“I can keep counsel,” said Biorn. “And I will do your bidding.”
“This it is then,” said she: “you were best all get you out of the Dane-realm at your speediest.”
Biorn heard this with some wonder. “What good is there in that?” said he.
“Wilt thou do it?”
“I have promised you,” said Biorn. “But herein hath Styrbiorn the say, and not I.”
Thyri said, “Thou art his friend. Thou canst persuade him.”
“What reason must I give him?” said Biorn.
Thyri looked at him as if he should find a reason. When he did not, she said, “I have heard tell of folk, when they have had unwelcome guests, have given them such medicines as did soon make a hand of them.”
“That reason,” said he, smiling, “will not move Styrbiorn.”
She said, “Is he hard to move?”
Biorn said, “Hard indeed, if so be he will stand.”
Thyri played awhile with the tassel of her gown. She looked up at him, and then away. “I will speak plain to thee,” she said. “I’ll give thee reason, and thou hast promised me thou wilt not give it to Styrbiorn. The King my father thinketh there is somewhat between me and Styrbiorn. ’Tis foolish, but I have marked him, and I know. There’s danger in it. He would not have it so: he hath other plans: King Burisleif.”
She looked up swiftly at Biorn, her face dark with blushes. “What?” said he: “the Wend-king? Why, ’tis an old man.”
“Not old,” said Thyri.
“Enough to father you,” said Biorn.
“It is not this we are to talk on,” said Thyri. “The King my father loveth me. He loveth not you Jomsburgers.”
“Wherefore gave he then his son to Palnatoki to foster?” said Biorn.
“I tell thee he loveth them not,” said she. “We Danes love them not. Kings have reasons for doing this and that, or leaving undone. Thou must not ask me: I know nought, save that so it is: and I would have you all be gone lest some ill come of it.”
Biorn looked at her for a minute without speaking. Then he said, “You have honoured me to tell me much. Will you be angry with me if I say my mind?”
“No, that would not be fair,” said she softly.
“Then,” said Biorn, “be not too hasty. True is that, that ‘The seaward reefs are washed with the waves.’ Time is of our side.”
For a full minute’s space she abode silent, as if weighing his words and her thoughts. “No,” she said at length. “Remember, Biorn, thou hast promised me.”
Biorn saw well enough that there was no turning her from this. He said, “I will do my best. I will draw him away, if so it may be, whether to Skaney or to Fion or Jomsburg or otherwhere. For to Sweden until summer be come he is bound not to go; so we must tarry otherwhere an half year yet, till time is for him to go north to Sweden.”
At that word spoken Thyri blanched to the lips. Biorn thought she was on point to fall, and put out his hands to hold her. She reeled back and leant against the wall, and “North!” she said, “Is it North to Sweden? Let him not go. Not North. Not North, Biorn.” Biorn thought she was on a sudden out of her wits. She saw his thought on the face of him.
“I will tell thee,” she said. “I had forgot it clean all, as if it had not been. But thy saying of North woke it all back again, as if ’twere to dream it anew. It was a dream I dreamed last night. And methought I was in my father’s hall, and the lights burning, and you lords of Jomsburg here in great company. And methought Styrbiorn was waxen so huge of growth, the hand of him was like a platter, and the head of him smote the roof-beams. And methought he lifted up an horn full of mead and cried out with a great voice, crying and saying:
“ ‘North ’tis, and North ’tis, and ne’er may we linger!’
“Then methought he laid hold on the King my father with his great platter hand, and had him forth of the hall into the night, and it seemed rain and sleet; and every man that was there ran out, following Styrbiorn and obeying him, and they ran their ships down to the sea, and sailed North with a great wind. After that, it seemed to me in my dream that there were women riding in the sky betwixt lightning and lightning, helmed and byrnied, and terrible was the clang of their bowstrings. And I looked and it was as if the ground was thick with the dead bodies of men battle-slain, and ravens and wolves were gathered thither under the darkness to feast on the dead bodies. Then in my dream I began to look upon the faces of the slain. And I looked and saw him too, lying there slain. And then it was as if the night ebbed backward from me on every side, like the sucking backwash of the sea, and it was pitch dark, And I woke not, but must have fallen on deep sleep out of my dream, and so waking at daybreak remembered nought. Only thy saying North brought it back to me.”
She paused, and stood panting, looking at Biorn as if for help, her hand pressed hard against her bosom.
“There be dreams and dreams,” said Biorn gently. “There is but one way for a man, and that is to remember that none may avoid his fate. This is to a man as the due ballast to the ship, which maketh the vessel indeed loom somewhat deeper, but keepeth it from tossing too lightly upon the uncertain waters.”
“Work for me in this,” said Thyri, as if she had marked nought of what he said. “Take him away hence. Keep him out of Sweden, for all sakes. Thou must not by word or look bring me into it. Thou must swear to me.”
Biorn took her hand in his. “I will swear that,” he said.
In that same while was Harald the King walking back and forth with Styrbiorn before the King’s garth. And all the time was the King a-talking, and his talk came ever and again to the same point and shied away from it, like a bad horse whose rider putteth him again and again at a jump and he refuseth again and again. But this was plainly the King’s mind, whereas he had but a month since been ever desiring that Styrbiorn should bide there in Denmark and be his man, naught would serve his turn now but to be quit of Styrbiorn and rid him out of the land. And ever as they walked and talked Styrbiorn bethought him of that look in the King’s eyes the night before when the King had looked on him at the ending of Biorn’s song. And he knew in his bones that it was the look of a man that seeth and knoweth his master, and feareth him and hateth him for his mastery and hateth his own little strength. So while King Harold talked and beat about the bush, Styrbiorn pleased himself with the memory of that caged-bear look of last night: and there ran pleasure sweetly within him with a secret caress of every member of his body, as of old when he pinned down Moldi by the horns and tasted power and dominion, but sweeter now and more dangerous, feeling under his hand the great King of the Danes ’stead of a brute beast.
And after a while he was ware of the King saying to him how it were fitter he should go forthright home to Sweden and claim his own, rather than sit a-guesting in foreign lands, howsoever welcome a guest; and how men should deem him but soft and little-hearted and a man of little account, if but at one man’s bidding he should go meekly away and stop away as long time as he was bid. That was a likelier way to show the King his uncle what mettle he was of, to tarry no more, but come home now with that force of men and ships to back him and claim his right now, in his own time not another’s.
Now such counsel as this, coming from the King upon Styrbiorn in his secret lust-fired mood of power, had like swift and unlooked-for effect as if a child should throw a cup of water into a pan of molten metal. He swung him about so sudden fierce that the King, for all his unwieldly weight of guts, leapt a pace back and away from him as light as a startled doe, and clapped hand to sword-hilt. Spite of his anger and rage Styrbiorn brake out a-laughing. Then he said in his swift stuttering way, “in many lands have I guested but never, till now, found I lords or kings so niggardly nor so shameless as chase guests away and grudge ’em their entertainment. May be ’tis your worshipping of dirty gods hath learned you these ways.”
“These be shameful words,” said the King: “I never bade thee go but for thine own good. But now I see thou art worse to deal with than I had thought for.”
“When I come again,” said Styrbiorn, “I will show thee and thy Danes if I be a man slow to take mine own or not.”
With that, he let call up his folk and bade them pack up the stuff and launch the ships, because forth of the Dane-realm he was minded to depart that very hour. They thought this a strange wild turn, and muttered and grumbled long enough, yet went about it briskly enough for all that. For so strangely was he in not two years grown into the hearts of them, of well nigh every man that was in Jomsburg, that naught seemed too hard or too useless or too much against their liking, but at his bidding they would do it without question, deeming not life itself too dear a thing to spend in his service.
And so it was that Biorn, coming forth with Thyri’s bidding on his hand, found the work done for him ere he made his first step towards it. When by questioning of Styrbiorn he had gotten the truth of the matter, he said, “That were ill, if we should part now unfriends with King Harald Gormson. And this is my counsel, that Bessi Thorlakson and I should go to the King and speak good words to him and that you be set at one before we sail away.”
“Do as thou wilt,” said Styrbiorn. “But I will not make myself little before him.”
“It is not good,” said Bessi, “that there should be ill blood betwixt us of Jomsburg and the Dane-king.”
Styrbiorn said, “ ’Tis small matter one way or ’tother. He knoweth we Jomsburgers be the better men, and able to rule him and we would.”
“Well if he know it,” said Bessi. “But it would try his temper over much if we should let him see we know he knoweth it. That is where thou hast dangered us.”
Styrbiorn laughed and shook his head: “Thou talkest as good riddles as doth old Thorgnyr, that the King mine uncle holdeth in so great account in Sweden. I never could make head nor tail of ’em.”
The end of it was that Biorn and Bessi did their errand so well that all was made smooth again betwixt King Harald and Styrbiorn. When they bade the King farewell he said, “This maketh great wonder to my mind, Styrbiorn, that thou shouldst choose to put to sea in midwinter and of an evil stormy day to boot. And yet a greater wonder that they will follow thee in this.” Styrbiorn said nothing, having promised not to bandy words with the King. The King gave Styrbiorn gifts at parting, a helm and a sax-knife with haft of gold. Styrbiorn gave the King a Greek hat and a silver baldrick set with amber.
So they came down to the shore of the sea and went ashipboard. The lift was all overspread with dirty cloud, and there were gray stacks of storm-cloud piled far away on the bourne of the sky to seaward. The sea was dark like iron, flecked with white horses, and with a livid band of light in the far distance. There was a biting wind blew from the northeast.
“Wither shall we sail now?” asked Biorn, “if we be not to be drowned?”
Styrbiorn answered and said, “We will sail North.”