Hrolf Kraki's Saga (3 page)

He was a sensible man who did not want to see Denmark again ripped apart. To this end, he got each of the brothers taken as king by the yeomen, when these gathered at the meetings known as Things. But they were hailed separately. Halfdan was to rule in Zealand, Frodhi in Scania.

Einar Jarl likewise arranged marriages after the lads were grown. Halfdan wed Sigridh, daughter of a small king on the island of Fyn. By her he got three children who lived. Oldest was the daughter Signy, who in due course married Einar’s son and heir Sævil. Five years
younger than her was the boy Hroar, and two years younger than him was his brother Helgi.

The custom was that high-born children should be reared in the homes of folk of somewhat lower rank. Thus they learned those skills which become a youth or a maiden; and bonds of friendship were forged. Hroar and Helgi Halfdansson were taken by Regin Erlingsson, the reeve of the shire which held Leidhra. He grew as fond of them as if they had been his own.

King Halfdan was mild and easygoing. The folk loved him for his openhandedness and for the just judgments he gave.

But meanwhile King Frodhi in Scania had turned into a man harsh and hungry. He married Borghild, a king’s daughter from among those Saxons who dwell just south of Jutland. By this means he got allies who, able to cross the Baltic Sea, awed Svithjodh enough that the Swedes kept off his back. She died in giving birth to their son Ingjald. Frodhi sent the babe to its grandfather to raise. Nevertheless, on behalf of it, he dreamed greatly.

And now, full of years, Einar died. Then matters stood like this:

In Leidhra on Zealand dwelt King Halfdan and his queen Sigridh. He was well-liked; but, with scant hankering for war, he kept no very strong guard, nor did he offer restless men much chance to win fame and booty abroad. His daughter Signy was wife to the jarl Sævil Einarsson. His sons Hroar and Helgi were mere boys, living with Regin the sheriff about twenty miles from the royal town.

And in Scania brooded King Frodhi.

He plotted with discontented men in Denmark, as well as with headmen among Swedes, Götar, and Jutes. Erelong he could call on a great host.

So he took ship across the Sound, lifted his banner and let blow the lur horns. Warriors flocked to him. Too late did the arrow pass from garth to garth, summoning those who would fight for King Halfdan. Looting and burning, Frodhi carried victory wherever he went. In a clash at darkest midnight, he fell upon Halfdan’s army, overthrew it, and himself put his brother to death.

Thereafter he called the Danish chieftains to a Thing and made them plight faith. Among those who, to save their lives, laid hands on the golden rings and swore by Njörd and Frey and almighty Thor that they would never forsake him—among them was Sævil Jarl, husband of Halfdan’s daughter Signy.

Thereupon Frodhi clinched his standing by marriage to his brother’s widow, Sigridh. She had no choice about this, but it was with a bleak face that she went to his bed. And now Frodhi sent after her sons. He gave out that he wanted to see they were well taken care of. Most men supposed the care would be a quick throat-cutting, lest they grow up to avenge their father.

II

Regin the sheriff had not been at that Thing. When Halfdan’s host broke, he sought back to his own home as fast as might be, together with what followers of his were left alive. He knew he would have a few days to batten down against Frodhi—few days indeed. “We can’t withstand him,” he said. “And I gave my oath to look after those youngsters.”

“What can you do?” asked a warrior.

Regin uttered a dour chuckle. “You’re a trustworthy enough fellow. However, you have no need to know.”

He was a big man, face reddened and eyes bleached by a lifetime of weathers, hair and beard iron-gray, rather paunchy but still a strong and shrewd leader of his shire. The children his wife Aasta had borne to him were long since wedded. Because of this as well as the honor, they two had been glad to give Hroar and Helgi a home.

This was on the Isefjord. It is a broad, well-sheltered bay; the land reaches green to the very edge of the waters, which are ever aclamor with ducks, brant, swans, curlews, gulls, all kinds of fowl. Most trees had been cleared away. But wilderness still brooded on the southern rim of sight; and closer at hand, woodlots remained for squirrels and boys to scramble in. The homes of yeomen were strewn widely amidst the fields, built of planks, with
sod roofs from whose smokeholes curled blacknesses that the salt winds quickly scattered. This is a good land, smiling with rye, barley, wheat, and flax beneath the sun and the dizzyingly tall clouds of summer.

Though Regin’s dwelling was no royal hall, its black-painted side made one whole edge of a flagged courtyard. The other three were taken up by shed, byre, stable, workshop, and lesser outbuildings. The gable beams of the house were carved into dragon heads to frighten off trolls. On the eastern end, these looked into a shaw where Regin led the neighborhood in offering to the gods.

A path sloped down to a boatshed. Out upon the bay lay several islands. The nearest, while small, was thickly wooded. There dwelt an aged yeoman named Vifil, alone save for two great hounds. Most folk shunned him, for he was a strange and curt-spoken one and it was said that now and then he wrought wizardry. But Regin and he were old friends. “If he can tie a breeze in a bag, why should I not take his help?” the sheriff would laugh. “Or do you
want
to row through a foul wind?” Moreover, Vifil had always been a staunch upholder of Halfdan, whenever younger men grumbled that the king was a sluggard. Sometimes Hroar and Helgi took a boat and called upon him.

No mirth uprose now when Regin rode into his garth. The boys burst forth at the hoof-clatter. Shouts, questions, boasts torrented from their lips. Then they looked upon their fosterfather, and it was as if a sword chopped off their voices. Aasta came out behind them, followed by the household workers, and saw, and spoke naught. For a time stillness filled the long evening light.

At last the sheriff dismounted, with a creak of leather and jingle of iron. He stood hunched, his hands dangling empty. Wordless, a carl of his led the horse away. Hroar clenched fists at sides and all but screamed: “Our father is fallen! He’s fallen, is he not?”

“Aye,” sighed from Regin. “I saw his banner go down, where we tried to rally by firelight after Frodhi surprised us in our camp. Later I hid myself—”

“I would not have skulked from my father’s need,” said Helgi, half strangled by tears he failed to hold back.

“We could do naught,” Regin told him, “and I had you, his sons, to think about. Toward dawn we began to find each other, we Isefjord men. One had been wounded and lay with no one paying much heed to him till at last he got strength to crawl away. He told how Frodhi slew the bound Halfdan.” After a wait, he added: “They spoke together first. Frodhi said he must do this because only thus could he bring back a single kingdom, as it was in the days of his namesake the Peace-Good. Halfdan answered him steadfastly. May you two meet your own endings as well.”

Aasta’s fingers twisted a towel she held. “So young!” she wept.

Regin nodded heavily. A breeze ruffled his sweat-dank mane; a gull mewed. “I don’t suppose Frodhi, having slain the lynx, will leave the cubs in their den,” he said.

His gaze dwelt on them. Hroar had twelve winters and Helgi ten; but already the younger brother was more tall and broad-shouldered, for the older was of short and slender build. Both had great shocks of sun-whitened hair falling around their necks, around brown faces which had begun to show the Skjoldung cragginess; amidst that, their big eyes gleamed lightning-blue. They were clad alike, in leather doublets over plain gray wadmal shirts and trews. But Hroar clutched a wooden staff whereon he had been carving runes, to help himself learn those signs, while Helgi bore at his belt a sling, a pouchful of stones, and a hunting knife.

“I … wish … I might have known my father better,” Hroar whispered.

“I’ll be content to get revenge for him,” Helgi gulped. He did not sound altogether like a child.

“For that, you must stay alive,” Regin warned. “I cannot keep you. Did I try, we’d burn in this house after Frodhi’s men ringed us in. Better for you that we, your friends, live to help another day.”

“They can’t flee into the woods as if they—as if they were outlaws!” Aasta cried.

Helgi tossed his head. “We can live quite well among the wolves, Fostermother,” said he.

“Maybe; but wolves command no swords,” Regin said. “I have a plan. We’ll talk of it later.” He shuffled toward his wife. “Now give me food and a draught of beer, and let me sleep. O gods, let me sleep!”

It was a silent welcoming feast.

Before dawn, Regin rose. He went to the shut-bed which the brothers shared, drew back its panel, and shook them awake, a finger laid on his mouth. Mutely they donned their clothes and followed him down to the water. The season was midsummer and the night was light, a paleness overhead where only a few stars glimmered, the bay like a burnished shield. Most softly and slowly, so as to make the least lap-lap of wavelets, he rowed them to Vifil’s island.

The yeoman dwelt in a sod hut on the north side. Grounding the boat, man and boys stepped ashore into thick shadows. Frightfully baying came two black shapes, the hounds called Hopp and Ho. When they knew who the guests were, they wagged their tails and licked hands.

Vifil, aroused, stoked up the hearthfire in the single room, half underground, which was his. Smoke and stench roiled in its air. Through the gloom one had glimpses of his few poor tools—knife, ax, fishnet, bone hooks, soapstone dish, and such-like—also of the kettle and runestaves and oddly knotted ropes wherewith he was said to make magic. He was a tall, gaunt white-beard, dirty and ill-smelling in his motheaten woolens and badgerskin cloak. Yet from beneath their overhanging brows, his eyes sought not unkindly toward the athelings.

Regin told what had happened. Vifil nodded; did he have the news beforehand? “Well, I hope you can hide these lads,” the sheriff finished, “for if you can’t, then I know of no other way to save them.”

Vifil tugged his whiskers. “That’s a bad ’un to strive against, him Frodhi,” he muttered. But in the end he agreed he had a duty to help as far as he was able.

Regin hugged them farewell. “May luck abide with you,” he said roughly.

“I think the Norns who stood at their cradles sang them no common weird,” said Vifil.

Regin hastened to the strand ere dawn should break. He spent the rest of that day faring widely about the Isefjord, making sure he was seen. Thus, when Hroar and Helgi were no longer at his home, folk would guess he had taken them away but would not know whither.

Vifil gave them bread, cheese, and stockfish before he led them into the woods. Yonder he had a place for cool storage of the meat and milk he got from his few beasts. It was hardly more than a pit with a roof of branches and turf. One climbed in or out on a kraki, a fir trunk whose stubbed-off limbs made a kind of ladder. The three toiled together, replanting brush till it decked every trace of man-work.

“Belike the king’s men will come search this island,” Vifil said. “That Frodhi’s no fool, him, and he’ll learn how your fosterfather and me has long been friends. Maybe they’ll not find you if you crouch in here. Meanwhile, don’t let nobody spy you from the shore. And … I’ll do whatever else I can.”

He would not let them watch what next he wrought, either in the hut or in a dolmen which stood among gnarled trees.

For a while thereafter, Helgi and Hroar were fairly well off. No boy can grieve long; and they had never really known their father anyway. The fare here was coarse, but their stomachs were young. If they slept on bare dirt, why, this they had done often before when hunting. That Vifil uttered few words was all to the good: it gave them time to swap daydreams. When the sun was high they must keep to the woods, where they ranged with Hopp and Ho after small game or birds’ nests. In the light nights before seeking rest, they could swim or even fish. Sometimes, peering across the water to the home of Regin, they felt it as a fading dream, no longer quite real.

But their peace was short-lived. When a thorough
rooting about over the sheriffs holdings failed to turn them out, Frodhi bade men scour the whole kingdom. Far and near, north, south, east, west, he kept watches out; he promised rich reward for news of his nephews, and threatened to torture to death whoever dared shelter them. Yet never a worthwhile word did anyone bring him; and in the look of Queen Sigridh there began to wax a chilly joy.

At length Frodhi decided a magic must lie in this, and sent for those who had knowledge of darknesses.

III

For a time the great hall at Leidhra guested one spaewife and wiseman after another. Frodhi told them to use their farsight and scan Denmark up and down, islands and skerries as well as mainland. But they saw nothing.

Thereafter he had wizards sought out, not merely those with a little spellcraft or forecasting dreams, but men who seethed witchy brews in cauldrons and were said to ride on the night wind or raise the dead or call upon beings more fearsome than that. These were most often wanderers, shunned by all goodfolk. The household hirelings and thralls shrank from them and drew signs to ward off a curse; the burliest guardsman could not wholly hide a shudder.

Three came at last whom Frodhi received well, seating them straight across the longfire from him and bidding the queen bring them meat and drink with her own hands. “The days are changed from when I served kings and warriors,” said the tall ruddy-braided woman sadly. “Never did I look to play hostess to those who would ferret out the sons of my body.”

Her new husband gave her a cool regard. “Serve them you shall, my Sigridh,” he answered; and she yielded. It was whispered among the workers, who sometimes overheard what went on in the royal bower, that Frodhi was fast taming her, not by beatings which would have aroused rage, but by skilled lust and unbending will. He was one of the short Skjoldungs, yet quick on his feet,
quicker with a blade, swiftest and deadliest in his cunning. Sleek brown hair and close-trimmed beard lay around a face lean, hook-nosed, and wintry-eyed. He dressed well: on this evening, a gold headband and arm-ring, a green kirtle trimmed with marten, red trews cross-gaitered in white kid.