TLV - 01 - The Golden Horn (25 page)

On a pale frosty sunlit morning the bells of Kiev rang out, folk swarmed in the streets, the cathedral was filled with the smoke of incense and the sound of chanting. As he stood facing the congregation with the veiled girl, their hands tied together, Harald could not keep his mind on what was happening. It was unreal, unimportant, too much else to think about: Maria and a dozen years lost somewhere, so damned much to do before the ice broke, curse it, where could he find enough good tackle for his ships? His shoes were too tight. Ulf was drunk as a god, let's hope Halldor could keep him behaving. That fellow Svein of Denmark, they said he was not a man to trust. . . .
Hospodne pomiluie.

Not until he was seated again by Elizabeth in the palace did he grow well aware of her. She looked pale and tired but held herself proudly. So now he was a wedded man. It felt no different.

He lifted his beaker. "To you," he said. "The queen of the North."

"No." She raised her own cup. "To us. Oh, Harald, may it always be us!"

He shrugged uneasily. He did not wish to be unkind, but he could not have a woman forever about his neck.

"I think
..."
She glanced around, saw no one was listening, and leaned close. "I think I can care for you . . . very much."

"Thank you," he mumbled.

"If you will let me," she said.

Then a noble from Polotsk came up to speak with them.

The day passed in feasting and drinking. Night fell early, time for the bridal couple to retire. Harald and Elizabeth paused on the landing with their candle bearers. The hall below seethed with men; eyes, mouths, hands and eyes turned upward in a roar of good nights and good wishes. Elizabeth could see her father on his high seat, but her mother was hidden in the throng. She waved blindly and went on upstairs with Harald.

When they were alone in their bedchamber, he sighed and dropped the latch. "Yonder merrymaking should last for days," he said. "Your father does not do things in a niggardly way."

"No." She stood stiffly near the bed. "No, he doesn't."

Harald walked across the floor and took her in his aims. "Ellisif," he said. "I have never so much as kissed you."

Her lips were cold under his. He felt how she shivered.

"I will . . ." He stopped and sought words. "I hope I can be good to you."

He would not have had to say anything to Maria, he thought.

Elizabeth could not bring herself to look at him. She went around the room and blew out the lamps, one by one.

XIV

Of Magnus the Good and Svein Estridharson

1

After Olaf the Stout
had fallen, Norway was ruled
by a viceroy for the Danish king. He was a bastard son of Knut the Great. Folk soon came to hate him for his greed and injustice. They agreed that Olaf had been a saint and longed to be steered by one of his blood.

Einar Thambaskelfir, first among the Norse chiefs, was especially offended by the viceroy because he had not received the title of jarl as he had expected. He, Kalf Arnason and some other powerful men decided to make their peace with Magnus Olafsson and to recognize him as king. With a great following, they came to Novgorod in the fall of Anno Domini 1034. Here they agreed to support Magnus; in return, Magnus must pardon everyone who had fought against Olaf, and would become the foster son of Kalf. Magnus being only ten years old, the chiefs thought this a good bargain since it would leave the real power in their hands.

In spring they went to Sweden, where Magnus' stepmother Astridh, Olaf's widow, received him gladly. Many Swedes came under his banner, and he
crossed over, into Norway, where he was hailed king. With none to help him, the Danish viceroy fled the land. Knut had died a short time before, and the Danish empire had fallen apart. Now one son, Harald Harefoot, rul
ed England, while another, Hard
haknut, had Denmark.

In 1036 the Norse chiefs, in Magnus' name, ordered out a levy and sailed against the Danes, whom they met near the Gota River. But neither land was eager to fight, so peace was made. Magnus and Hardhaknut swore that they should remain at peace while they lived, and if either died sonless, the other would succeed to both thrones.

The situation looked promising for Norway until Magnus began to show whose child he was. Thori Hound had already died on a pilgrimage to Jerusalem. Then Haarek of Thjottu, who had been another leader against Olaf, was murdered with the complicity of Magnus.

Asmund Grankelsson, an enemy of Haarek, stood on the gallery of the king's house in Nidharos, Magnus beside him, when Haarek went by in the street. "Now," said Asmund, "I will repay his killing of my father." He hefted his small ax in his hand and started to go.

"Take my ax instead," Magnus offered, holding out the stout weapon he bore. "There are hard bones in that old fellow, Asmund."

Asmund went down and split Haarek's skull. When he came back, despite the blood, Magnus saw that the edge of the ax had turned. Grinning, he asked: "What use would you have had of that thin thing of yours? It seems that even the one you carry has been damaged!"

Asmund was not fined or punished for his breach of the peace. Indeed, Magnus gave him a fief and an office in Haalogaland shire, where he was continually at odds with Haarek's sons.

Nor had Magnus ever forgiven the regent, Kalf Arnason, for his part at Stiklastadh. To Einar Thambaskelfir, Kalf's rival, who had not been in that battle, Magnus showed the greatest friendship. Not long after Haarek's assassination, these three were guesting at a farm near the battleground. Magnus said to Einar: "We two will ride to Stiklastadh today, and you can show me just how it was then."

"I can tell you naught," said Einar maliciously; "but let your foster father Kalf go with you. He knows all about it."

When they had eaten, the king said to Kalf, "Get your horse and ride to Staklastadh with me."

"This is no affair of mine," mumbled the chief.

The king's voice broke, boyishly, but wrath was in it: "Go you shall, Kalf!" He left the room.

Kalf realized that he must obey the king, boy or no. As he donned his riding clothes with unsteady hands, he said to his footboy: "Gallop straight to my garth and tell the carles to get all my goods aboard ship ere sunset."

Then Magnus and Kalf rode to Stiklastadh, where they dismounted. The day was clear and cool, wan sunlight spilling over the grass, the wind noisy in the trees. "Where is the spot where the king fell?" Magnus asked.

Kalf pointed with his spearshaft to a tall rock nearby. "There he lay when he had fallen."

"And where were you, Kalf?"

"Here where I now am standing."

Magnus' face reddened. "Then your ax could have reached him!"

"My ax did not come near him," said Kalf. He jumped on his horse and rode swiftly off to his home. That night his ship went down the fjord. He was in viking in the western lands for a long time.

Magnus went harshly to work. He took Kalf's farm for his own, plus many more farms that belonged to men who had fallen on the yeomen's side at Stiklastadh. Heavy fines were laid on others, or they were driven into exile or their cattle were slaughtered for his own use. In addition to these pressures he exerted on the yeomen, Magnus did not change the unjust laws of the Danish viceroy.

Anger went through the land as the yeomen saw their freehold rights again attacked. In Sogn shire men armed themselves, swearing that they would hew down the king if he ventured thither. Magnus gathered a host of his own to move against them. It seemed as if once more the land must suffer war.

2

Sighvat Thordharson, skald to Olaf the Stout, was in Rome when his master died. Hearing what had happened on his return, he mourned greatly and went to stay with the widowed Queen Astridh in Sweden. When Magnus came back, Sighvat joined him and served him well. He even helped lessen the strife between Astridh and Magnus' mother Alfhild, Olaf's one-time leman, and that was no easy task.

Now when the king's men saw battle threaten in Sogn, they were unhappy, and twelve of them met to decide what was to be done. They drew lots to determine who should go tell Magnus how ill content the folk were, and the lot fell on Sighvat. He ordered his affairs, confessed his sins and in the evening went to the hall where Magnus was.

As he trod in, the long fires leaping smoky down its length showed him the men on the benches along the walls, the women at the far end, drinking and talking. Those near the mid-wall high seat, where Magnus was, were great chiefs. The light splashed their grave bearded faces, fur and linen garments, the gold rings on their arms. Splendid among them sat the boy king. His downy face was sullen. Sighvat stepped up before him.

"Good evening," said Magnus in an ill-humored tone. "What brings you here?"

Sighvat cleared his throat. His black hair was graying, but he bore himself erect as any youth. "I have a word for you from the people of Norway, my lord," he said. He was awkward in ordinary speech, but verses could stream from him.

"Let me hear, then," said Magnus.

Sighvat folded his arms and began reciting:

"
'
Ti
s
said, I hear, that Sighvat

seeks to turn his master

from strife against the Sogn
men.

Myself I'll hie to battle:

gladly belt my glaive on,

go beneath your banner. . . .

But lawlessness in the land,

how long must we endure it?"

Women gasped and men sucked in their breath to hear the king thus spoken to. The chieftains leaned forward, folding bulky hands into fists. Magnus sat blankly as Sighvat's verses related what former kings had done, how Haakon the Good had obeyed ancient law and the two Olafs had sought to bring the whole realm under one lawful rule. Only the crackle of the fires was heard as Sighvat continued:

"Atheling, be not angry

when honest friends give counsel,

warning open-worded,

wanting but to serve you.

Landsmen will not lout

to laws which are another

and worse rule than awaited,

as well as you must remember.

"Who has urged your hasty

heart to break your pledges?

Much too often, master,

make you use of sword edge.

Ever should the honor

of the king be steadfast;

little is the love for lawless,

faithless ruler."

Magnus shifted, flushing darkly, but Sighvat held his eyes and spoke on: verse after verse, calm and ruthless, as if the land itself stirred under him who had trodden too heavily across it.

"Ill it is when all

the older men speak war words,

gathering against you;

get it stopped, and swiftly!

Know, when men say nothing,

nodding silent, lowering

heads in hairy coats . . .

then harm and danger threaten."

Those who sat near the youth thought they saw tears glimmer as the skald went on. It seemed a long time before the last verse:

"Holy bonds that hold us

make me wish a healing.

Wait not till the wicked

weapons flash, but help us.

Grant this boon, my godson!

Gladly then we'll serve you

Go in peace, not glaive,

and give your people freedom!"

The stillness became long when Sighvat had finished until Einar Thambaskelfir said, "He speaks truth, my lord."

Magnus' knuckles were white where he gripped the chair.

"Yes," he muttered thickly. Rising, he left the hall.

But the next morning he held council with his chiefs. It was agreed that the laws must be changed and the king himself obey them. Peace was made in Sogn, and in due time Magnus had laws written for the whole land which the Things accepted heartily. This book, called the Gray Goose from the hue of its parchment, was the first written code the North had had. It laid down not only rules for the mighty, but protection for the poor, and Magnus did abide by it. On this account he was much loved by the folk, who called him Magnus the Good.