XII

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XII

The Cowing of the Dane-King

The lords of Jomsburg came in now from their summer viking. Styrbiorn would speak to no man of those things which had come about in Upsala at summer’s end; but they remained not hidden, for they that had fared with him into Sweden told it to their messmates, and it was in most men’s minds that he was not likely to sit quiet under that shaming.

All that winter Styrbiorn abode in Jomsburg. He was moody and ill to do with. Biorn was with him winter-long, but the rest of them went every one to his own place: Sigvaldi and his brethren to Skaney, Bui and Sigurd to the old man Veseti their father in Borgundholm, and the rest accordingly. Palnatoki, ere that he went home into Fion, took Styrbiorn apart and said, “Few be they that can stand alone. I would have thee remember this: whatsoever thou art minded to do or whithersoever to fare next summer, we will lend thee aid as thumb serves finger.” Styrbiorn gripped him by the hand.

Styrbiorn grew blacker of mood as winter deepened. He would be oftenest alone; out of doors all day long in the wildest weather, walking hours together on the seawalls; rowing out to sea sometimes in a boat alone; once or twice, in weather when no boat could live long, swamped and swimming ashore out of seas which no man, save by luck, could look to win out of alive. Other whiles he would go alone upon the mainland, ranging among the hills and sea-cliffs. Now the thrall Erland, at Styrbiorn’s riding from Upsala, had bethought him to bring Moldi and ship him aboard and carry him south to Jomsburg. For it seemed to him that his lord was now leaving behind him in the Swede-realm many a thing should grieve his heart to lose it, and that here was one thing might be saved for him and that he should be glad of, albeit he had no mind as for that while neither for that nor for naught else beside. And so it was that when Styrbiorn fared alone upon the mainland, Moldi would ever follow some way behind him. But Styrbiorn seemed neither to see him nor to know he was there, taking, if he saw him indeed, no more note of him than he might take of his own shadow. In such times, not Moldi only shadowed him unnoticed, but Biorn also was wont to follow him all day afar off with a band of men, lest he should be set upon by the Wends. But, whether because they were ware of Biorn and his company at hand, or for their old fear of Jomsburg and of Styrbiorn, or (which was scarce reason enough) because peace was between King Burisleif and the Jomsburgers, the Wends held off from them.

When Yule-month was well past and the days began to lengthen, Styrbiorn began to come out some little from his black and sullen frame of mind. On an evening as they walked on the wall in the bright beams of the westering sun, he spake and said to Biorn his foster-brother, “There was one thing I was wrong to leave behind me. And I have not missed him until now.”

“What was that?” said Biorn.

“That was Moldi.”

“Moldi,” said Biorn, “hath followed thee all winter long. Thou hast never all winter walked abroad but he was behind thee.”

“Thou mockest me,” said Styrbiorn, staring at him.

“It is very truth I tell thee,” said Biorn. “ ’Twas thy man Erland brought him for thee out of Sweden.”

“Erland!” said Styrbiorn. “And thou!” And he turned away his face.

Now was winter over, and Jomsburg filled again, and Palnatoki according to his wont held council with the lords of the Jomsburgers to determine of their summer’s work. So they were met together on the seawall overlooking the open sea and the sea-gates and the harbour and the ships. Palnatoki took his seat on a high buttress top that jutted a little above the wall: Styrbiorn sat at the right hand of Palnatoki and Sigvaldi at the left, and the rest sat or stood round about on either side. Every man of them was helmed and byrnied and armed as if for battle, for in such array held they ever their councils of war.

When they were set, Palnatoki spake among them: “That hath been our custom until now, that I should ask each man in turn what seemeth likeliest and best to him, and what rede he hath to lay before us. But this summer I think we shall choose the rather to hear what Styrbiorn will do. For I think there is no man here in Jomsburg who will not wish to put aside his own enterprise, how needful soever it be, and give aid to Styrbiorn.”

So said Palnatoki, and they took his saying well. Only Sigvaldi leaned closer to Palnatoki and spake somewhat in his ear. “I care not for that,” said Palnatoki: “I will have no conditions.” And he said aloud, “And this is our mind, as it seemeth to me, that we shall give Styrbiorn aid not here nor there, nor for this or that, but freely and for what thing soever he will take in hand.”

Sigvaldi bit his lip but kept silence. And now he with the rest rose up, and every man that was at that council bared sword now and clashed iron on iron, sword on shield, crying aloud that he would aid Styrbiorn.

Styrbiorn swept his eye round from man to man. For a moment he scarce seemed able to speak word. Then in his eager and halting utterance he said, “ ‘Bare is back without brother behind it.’ And I see that shall not be said of me. And now there is but one man and one country I will not bear war against: every land else, but not against the Swede-King. Many will think wonders at this, but I will for no sake bear war against King Eric. This I say, that you may know. But if I fight not against him, fight I must with someone, or I shall burst.”

“What’s this?” said Bui then. “Must thou be cast out o’ the Swede-realm and thine own lawful right for a wench sake? And were it possible for any shame-swollen toad to have the spit-proof face to outlive this disgrace, and not make garters of the guts of him that put it on us?”

Styrbiorn met his scowling and staring look with that smile with which, once his mind was set on anything, he was wont to receive advice or protest or upbraiding. “I will not fight with the Swede-King,” said he.

Bui said, “Thou dost jest with us. This is but to try us. Come, I’ll go with thee. He shall find a hath laid for a pickrell and caught a firedrake. And I’ll ask no guerdon but this, that I may lay in the first brand at the burning of Upsala.”

“I’ll give thee quarry enough, Bui,” said Styrbiorn, “but never that.” Men might see, for all his holding of himself in hand, that this talk tried his temper over much.

Sigvaldi spake: “We have promised Styrbiorn this, to follow and uphold him this summer. And methinks there is little wisdom in this, to egg him on to so unhopeful and bad an enterprise as that should be, to go up against the King o’ the Swedes in Upsala. For many a man would find it a hard thing and an ill to keep to his oath, were it to draw us into suchlike folly.”

But the more part of them were of Bui’s mind, that they would back Styrbiorn, were it in this or in aught else beside.

After this Palnatoki spake to each apart, and said it would be best for men to speak no more to Styrbiorn of the ill turn things had taken betwixt him and the Swede-king, and most of all say naught, as Bui had said, of bearing war against the King; “For that is furthest from his mind, and the mere thought thereof is like a spark to a vetch-stack, to light up his grief and ruth anew.”

Styrbiorn sailed east now with the whole power of the Jomsburgers, and made war far and wide in the east countries and laid under him there many kings and folk both of the mainland and of the isles, in such sort that the terror of the name of Jomsburg was upon all the dwellers in those lands beyond aught that had been heard of aforetime. For Styrbiorn, sailing oft in raids and onslaughts with but a few ships, seemed to run all danger out of breath, nor might any host hold ground against him nor escape his onset. And the report did fly of him throughout Wendland and Garthrealm and Estland and all those lands of the eastern seas, that he was no man, but a troll which irons bite not; and under that fear went his enemies against him into battle. But as many as he overcame and conquered he bound to him with oaths and treaties and obliged men far and wide to host-faring with him. And men marked, too, this strange thing of him, that, for all the awe and fear folk had of him, yet there was a scarce a man that once spake with him and knew him face to face but was glad ever after to do his will and be his man. For he drew men to him as the lodestone draws iron.

After that, he bare war into Wendland, holding it time that the Wends should stand no longer in doubt whether Jomsburg, that was planted on their land’s edge, were theirs or its own. But here gathered against him the war-rush of the Wends, and therewithal King Burisleif, having with him so huge a throng of fighting men as outmanned the Jomsburgers by five or six to one, seized the river banks of both sides below the fleet that had rowed far upstream into the inland parts. And the Wends cast booms athwart the river, cutting off for the men of Jomsburg their way of flight, had that seemed best to them. Their battle there was of the hardest, and there fell many a man of either side, for the Wends were good fighters and the odds by common reckoning hopeless against the men of Jomsburg. Yet in the end, after a long day’s battle, Styrbiorn won the day. These were his peace terms with King Burisleif, that Palnatoki should henceforth hold an Earl’s name and dignity, and the Wends should be at peace henceforth with them of Jomsburg and acknowledge them for their friends and allies, and should aid and comfort them every way they might from that day forth. King Burisleif gave Styrbiorn great store of gifts and treasures, and bound himself to fetch Styrbiorn ships and men to go a-warring with him whensoever he should call for them.

It now drew toward midsummer. They brought home their spoil to Jomsburg and bestowed it there and set their gear in order. Then Styrbiorn said, “That will I now, that we sail in west-viking. And first, into Denmark.”

It was easy to see that Palnatoki liked not well of this rede. “A Dane am I by kin,” said he, “and my home is in Fion. And plainly I hold not myself for a bigger man than King Harald Gormson, seeing I was content to be fosterer of his son. Give us not too hard a choice.”

At that, Styrbiorn looked black on him for an instant. Then his brow cleared. “I ought not to have asked thee for this, Palnatoki,” he said, and took him by the hand. “Let be, then. We will think on some other way.”

“That is generous in thee,” said Palnatoki. “And that is but what we have learnt to look for in thee, we that be thy friends. But now I will not be behindhand with thee in friendship, nor use thee so unhandsomely, seeing I swear oath to aid thee. And thou shalt have thy way, be it even into Denmark.”

So this was now determined on. Only it seemed good to Palnatoki that he should not himself be with them on this sailing, thinking that, when the time should come, the King should then the easier be brought to eat out of his hand if he should have had no share in the putting of force upon him. So this was their rede, that Palnatoki with those sons of Strut-Harald and one half of the whole fleet that was now in Jomsburg should sail again eastaway and withal raise more power in the east there, and be at tryst with Styrbiorn in Jomsburg the first full moon after midsummer. So might they thereafter all fare together a-warring until summer’s end.

Styrbiorn, having with him Biorn and the sons of Veseti and the rest of the host, sailed now in west-viking into Denmark and there made great unpeace. When he had gotten three victories in sea-fights there, he sailed through the Jutland sea into the Limfirth and found there the Dane-King and his host. The King deemed it not hopeful to fight with Styrbiorn, and they made peace there. King Harald had in those days a fair great house of his at Alaburg, and he bade Styrbiorn come ashore there and take guesting. Styrbiorn said yea to that, and now were the ships of King Harald and the ships of Styrbiorn some of them drawn up on the strand of the sea below Alaburg, while other some rode at anchor, for that was a windless haven and a wondrous good riding-place for ships. The King handselled peace to Styrbiorn before all the folk there, but they put off till the morrow all talk of terms and bargains.

That afternoon it so fell out that Styrbiorn, walking in the sun about the home-mead and whiling away the time with looking on the good byres and sheep-pens and on the fire-halls and bowers and other fair buildings that the King had in Alaburg, came on a sudden round a corner of the great hall face to face with Thyri, Harald’s daughter. She was bareheaded and the sun shone in blue gleams amid the jet-black curls and folds of her hair. She wore a gown of dark-blue woollen stuff and a silken cloak, rich and costly, of like colour. She had in her arms a little furry rabbit that nestled against her bosom and, with long ears laid back, thrust its nose under her arm. It so befell that Styrbiorn was humming a tune and Thyri too was singing softly to her rabbit, rocking it and smiling to see it nestle so and to feel its soft nose nuzzling. So meeting, they stopped suddenly from their singing and halted as if each would have turned back to avoid the other, and their faces flushed red. Styrbiorn stepped aside now to let her pass. But Thyri stood still as if waiting for him to say somewhat. She stood looking down at the little rabbit in her arms, stroking its ears and head. After a little she looked up at him and said, “There was a foumart caught it, but I saved it.”

Styrbiorn said nothing, meeting her gaze in an uneasy silence. Then on the sudden they both smiled.

That night the King made Styrbiorn and his folk good entertainment. Styrbiorn spake most to Thyri, and she was easy and open in her talk with him. There was no word nor look of hers that pointed to that bad night that had parted them in Upsala, but it was as if her mind had been wiped clean now of all knowledge and remembrance of it. And wondrous it seemed with what friendship she took up the threads of their days that had gone before, so that no dear brother and sister, meeting again after many years, might have known more familiarly the jests and likings each of other.

Suddenly he said to her, “Men have told me thou art to wed King Burisleif.”

“So it is,” said she, as if roused suddenly from some dream.

“Is that with thy good will?” asked Styrbiorn.

All her easy way with him was gone. She lifted her head proudly as if to say, what had he to do with these things? Then her eyes met his. She lowered her gaze and said, scarce to be heard, “No.”

“It is an old man?” said Styrbiorn.

“So I am told,” she said, soft as a breath.

They kept silence for a while. Then Styrbiorn said, “I did wrong. Is it too late?”

Thyri lifted her eyes full on his. “No,” she said.

Next morning Styrbiorn and Harald the King went forth to speak together apart upon a bluff of rock that overlooks the strand of the sea below Alaburg. These were Styrbiorn’s peace-terms that he laid before the King: that the Danes should fetch Styrbiorn an hundred ships full-manned to follow and fight for him in three great battles, and that he besides should have to wife Thyri, Harald’s daughter.

It was easily seen that the King was not minded to have aught to do with such terms.

So now they talked on this for a long while, turning it over this way and that, but no whit the nearer were they agreed together. “That have I heard,” said the King at length, “that thou hast been little of a tame horse to lead for thine unfriends. But this thou asketh passeth all reason, and I will not do it.”

“That is ill, then,” said Styrbiorn. “For so it is, King, that hereon hangeth all our friendship betwixt you and us Jomsburgers.”

The King looked him in the eye. “I would have thee answer me this,” he said: “Who art thou, that Jomsburg lieth in thy mouth? Let Palnatoki speak for Jomsburg, and thou for thyself.”

Styrbiorn laughed. “Well,” he said, “I will speak for myself.”

“And I,” said the King, “have given thee thine answer.”

“But it is an answer I will not take,” said Styrbiorn.

The King looked angry as a man might be. For a time he held his peace, then, suddenly looking up at Styrbiorn, “Would thou mightest go from hence,” he said fiercely, “and all the fiends of hell go with thee. There was never ill words, let alone ill deeds, ’twixt me and Jomsburg, till that thou camest hither. With Palnatoki and every man else of Jomsburg I should lightly be set at one. Would I might never look upon thy face again.”

Styrbiorn smiled. “I have tried your temper over much, King. And now I’m sorry for it. The ships I will forgo. But to knit our friendship the closer you shall give me your daughter.”

“That is not to be thought of,” said King Harald. “Thou hast had thy chance of that, and little with my good will, when thine uncle backed thee. I scarce think he’ll back thee again, though.” With that, he gave Styrbiorn a lowering look. “Truly thou hast the front of a dog,” said he: “ ‘Be wary with ale and with another’s wife.’ When thou’st learnt that, come and ask me again for my daughter.”

The hair of Styrbiorn’s head rose up a little, and his face became dark as blood. “I’ the meantime,” said the King, “she is promised to King Burisleif. And the wedding is to be this summer.”

“Is that with her good will?” said Styrbiorn.

“It is my will,” said the King.

“Wilt thou leave it in her free choice?”

“I will not,” said the King.

Styrbiorn came a pace nearer to Harald the King and stood over him like as one fighting dog stands a-bristling over another. “I love not talk and chat,” said he; “yet, to please your whim, King, I have spent two hours a-talking. Here be no eavesdroppers. Thou seest under thy feet there my ships and thine. Think well: for this choice I give thee, either to stretch out thine hand and betrothe to me thy daughter, and swear friendship to me, and these hundred ships too; or if not, I will flit thee ashipboard this very night, over seas to Kirialaland or the Finn-heaths of Smaland or otherwhere, and deliver thee up to savage men shall shear off thy nose and thine ears and draw out thy tripes for their dogs to eat. Choose, then.”

His words, tripping and stumbling, came like a clatter of weapons about the King’s ears. The King looked up in his eyes without blenching, a deadly look. A dirty greyish pallor was on the King’s cheek and brow: his lips were drawn back, showing in a set grin his teeth and gums and that ugly great tooth of his that jutted forth like a wild swine’s tusk blue and monstrous in the left-hand corner of his mouth. His right hand was clenched like iron on his sword-hilt, but his sword abode safe home in the scabbard. When Styrbiorn had ended there was deep silence, save for the faint sound of the wash of the waves on the seashore below them.

“So it is, Styrbiorn,” said King Harald at length, “that thou art a strong man. But I think thy strength shall one day overreach itself. I’ the mean season, thou must have thy way, here as in what else besides. But if thou wilt humour me so far, to forbear from shaming me before mine own folk, that will seem somewhat.”

“Then is the bargain made,” said Styrbiorn. His wrath was gone by like a squall in March, and that good and merry look that his friends knew in him crept like spring sunlight from his eyes and brow down to his mouth. He reached out his hand. The King’s hand in Styrbiorn’s grip was like a dead fish. Styrbiorn said, “True it is, there is no witness of our bargain. Yet I think thou’lt keep troth with me. But I will have thine oath too, King.”

The King sware by Christ and Mary.

“I’ll have thee tied all ways,” said Styrbiorn. “Thou must now swear by Thor.”

The King sware by Thor.

Styrbiorn said, “Now we understand one another, thou and I. And now I shall think well of our friendship.”