TLV - 02 - The Road of the Sea Horse (26 page)

"May I come, my lord?" asked Gunnar shyly. "I know somewhat of the sea."

Harald gave him a sharp stare. "I want none who'll be frightened at thought of unknown terrors."

"Not with you there, my lord," mumbled Gunnar.

Harald smiled. "Then come," he said softly. "I'll bring a few men we can trust," said Ulf. "No," said the king. "You must stay behind." "What? But we've ever fared together, Harald—"

"I know, and glad would I be to have you. But think, now— It could be that trolls or monsters or Ran herself will sink us. I sail this year, because it's not sure I will live past next summer; that's going to be a fierce battle. But if I should not come back, there must be a strong hand on the kingdom. We've not yet quenched revolt, it still smolders in men's hearts, and Magnus is but a boy as yet."

Ulf's brow darkened. "Now see here—" he began.

"No. You stay behind." It was the cold voice of command.

Ulf bit his lip. Suddenly he cramped over, grasping at his chest. Blood drained from his face, and his breath gasped. He slid from the bench to the ground.

Harald leaped up and stooped above him. "Ulf!" It was a croak in the king's mouth. "Ulf, what's wrong?"

The marshal clamped his teeth together and looked up with blank soulless eyes.

"Before God!" roared Harald as the men crowded around. "Stand back! Let him breathe!" He himself tried to raise his friend.

The spasm passed. Ulf sat up, breathing heavily. Sweat gleamed on his forehead.

"What is it?" whispered Harald. His hands shook on the marshal's shoulders. "What happened, Ulf?"

"A . .
.a
pain in my breast
...
my heart stops and
...
I get it now and then, cannot draw breath or . . ." The Icelander spoke faintly. "It's horrible, the fear which catches me."

Some of the guards and carles shuddered away, thinking they looked on a man under a curse.

Harald raised him. "Here, lean on me," he said. There was a woman's gentleness in his tone. "Come into the hall. Take his other arm, Maria."

Ulf shook himself, jerkily. "It's past now. Give me a stoup of wine and I'll have my strength back.''

"Aye, that you shall have, and the best leech-wife in Nidharos. Come, now. We'll put you to bed, and Queen Ellisif shall attend you."

"Ellisif." There was an uncertain smile on Ulf's bearded lips. "Yes, that would be well."

"The best we have," said Harald. His voice caught. "The best I can give you, old wolf."

They went slowly from the courtyard.

Elizabeth seemed to have faded somewhat as the years passed; she grew ever more still and withdrawn. But she remained in health, steered her household well, could be merry with her husband, and was much beloved by the folk.

Thora had put on some weight, not too much since she was often out hawking or hunting, and there were fine lines about the gold-green eyes. Yet she was vividly fair, with hair like smoky flame, lustful in the dark though sharp-tongued by day. Her wealth had grown with shrewd management, and she wore gold and silks daily.

Neither queen had borne more children, though Harald had given many nights to both. But those they had grew strongly, and the weeks and years had fallen into a steady pattern of rising in the morning, breaking fast, working or sporting or going to Mass, and then when all at once it was night again, to sleep. Between the two women there was a chill courtesy.

This evening Harald bedded with Thora. It seemed to him she was quieter of late, and he wondered if her father's death still weighed on her. Elizabeth had gone off to weep alone when she heard Jaroslav the Wise was no more, but Thora had mourned Thorberg with shameless openness. Still, that was some time back, and . . .

Thora sat down and loosened her hair before the mirror Harald had bought from an outland merchant. The candlelight was warm over her smooth bare shoulders, it gleamed in the ruddy tresses and embraced the full, supple body; but her strong wide face was coldly shut.

Harald began unlacing his leg thongs. "What ails you?" he asked.

"Better wonder what sickness you have," she snapped. "Are you bewitched, that you want to sail into nowhere?"

"Oh, is that the trouble?" He laughed. "You've ever plagued me to be taken along on some voyage. Well, come on this."

"God save me, no!" She crossed herself, then picked up a comb and stroked it through her hair. She could stretch and purr like a cat under such treatment, but tonight she sat stiff. "Nor will you take Magnus. I know he's been pleading to come, but—"

"No, I shan't risk him." Harald sighed. His oldest boy was a gallant lad, so stiff-necked that he often clashed with his father; yet Harald thought more of him than of Olaf who was too quiet and peaceful for a king's son.

Thora turned half around to face him. "What's to gain?" she demanded. "What's to be had up there save death and damnation?"

"That's what I mean to find out," replied Harald evenly. "If it should prove a realm of gold, you'll not be sorry."

"Giants, trolls, dragons, ghosts, witches . . . endless ice and the seas thundering off the world's rim!" she cried. Fear was alive in her face. It struck Harald oddly that she, who was otherwise so bold, should be daunted by thought of this. Elizabeth had said merely, "Well, if go you must, then God and my prayers be with you. I think not any troll is great enough to master you."

Now he got up, the floor cold under his bare feet, and went over to lay a hand on Thora's neck. "You must understand," he said earnestly. "This is an old dream. I've heard it said the world is round, a learned Saracen told me that long ago."

"So you've told me, and I say it's heathenish nonsense."

"Perhaps. Yet if the world is a ball, I could sail over the top and be in Vinland or Cathay. But let it go. The Greeks thought there was a Hyperborea, a land of ageless springtime, beyond the north wind. It may be that Ydhun's apples grow there, or the well whose waters make men young again. It may be that unicorns run through green meadow where the flowers are stars. It may be
...
I know not, and that's a hunger in me."

"Are you so hungry for death?" she asked, and the edge was dulled in her voice.

"No. No, I'm in no haste to die. There's so much undone." Harald looked bitterly at the wall. "God has spared me weakness thus far, and yet the years are heaped on my back, and all I once longed for has shrunk to a sameness of days. What has become of this empire of the North I meant to shape? A half-score years of petty raids, Svein still alive to jeer me, while elsewhere all the world is shaking with a new birth. I grasp at Denmark, and it slips like water through my fingers. I think of England, and while I sit thinking Norman William readies to leap on her. I look to Sweden, and see a wall of armed men I cannot hope to spring over. And here in Norway, what is it? A fight of words, a fight with shadows, a step here and a step there while the land lies sullen and does not understand."

He straightened. "Live or die, this much I will do. It will be enough to sail beyond the North."

Thora drew a long breath. "I cannot swerve you," she whispered. "I know that by now. But my dearest—did you mean what you said about taking me along?"

"No," he answered quickly.

"I thought not. So I must stay behind again, and wonder how you fare—each day a year, each night a century, while I think of your gashed corpse brought home. You sail and fight, and I stay behind to pray!"

The last word was a shriek.

Harald's hand slipped downward, over her breasts, and he bent close to her. That near, her face blurred; he could no longer see well at less than arm's length, though otherwise his might was scarcely diminished. His lips sought her cheek.

"Enough," he murmured. "You shall be with me next year, you and Magnus both."

"I'll hold you to that vow," she shakily, "if next year comes."

His arms tightened around her.

3

Three longships lay where men had never sailed before.

It was a dead calm, with murky fog, and a still, relentless cold gnawed past furs and leather, down through flesh and the marrow of bones. The crews shivered, slapping numbed hands together, stamping booted feet on the ice-slippery decks. From afar came a distant, booming voice of thunder and judgment.

Harald looked down the dragon's hull. Mist swirled to blur the huddled crew and the small cheerless fire on the cooking hearth. There was ice crusted on the bulwarks, icicles hanging from the rigging, the sail was a stiffened sheet. Over the side, he could discern blackened waters. A man who fell into them might be dead of cold ere they hauled him back.

The remote crashing came louder on a brief bloodless wind, rumbling and banging, roaring and growling. A break in the fog showed the sun low and heatless, a wan disc of ice. Its light flashed off a drifting berg, transforming it to a dwarf's hoard of red and green and sapphire blue, mocking him with its jeweled glitter.

"How far have we come?" Eystein's voice seemed muffled. His breath blended with the streaming fog.

"God knows," said Thjodholf. "Farther than is right, I think."

"That noise!" Gunnar's jaws clapped. "Can it be the sea falling over the world's edge?"

The wind dropped again, and fog rolled in more thickly. Soon Harald could not see the other craft, or the sternpost of his own.

"It may be," said Thjodholf. He crossed himself. "Or it may be the quern Grotti, the giantesses Fenja and Menja swinging it and grinding salt into the sea."

Harald snorted. "Those are ice floes striking together," he told them.

"And if so, pack ice is the last thing to try sailing through," declared Vigleik Erlendsson.

"Be still!" shouted the king.

"There was ice in my beard this morning," said Thjodholf, "and the days grow shorter more swiftly than they ought."

Somewhere to starboard, they heard a sucking and smacking sound, something huge and black broached the sea and waters ran monstrously off its flanks.

"The Snake!" yelled someone out of the fog. "The Midhgardh Snake!"

"A whale," bawled Harald. "A whale, God damn you for a sniveling coward!"

"We're none of us craven," said Thjodholf quietly. "And yet are we mad? Half our provisions are eaten up, and we had strong favoring winds when we left. If we must row back, there'll be hunger and thirst aboard ere we win to land."

Harald slumped on a bench. The fog thickened. Men cried out across the noise of moving mountains, oars splashed, and the ships drew close for comfort.

Gunnar tugged at Eystein's sleeve. "I've seen many fogs," he whispered, "but never one like to this. What are those shapes in it?"

"Thicker banks. Not ghosts, but only thicker patches." Eystein's tone sounded unsure. He could not take his eyes from one gray shadow; it was like a troll crouched to spring on him.

Louder rolled the thunders, as if marching down on them.

Harald's lips opened. If there was to be no wind, then down mast and out oars. But he closed his mouth again.

The fog gathered, smoking in the hull and dripping from the cordage. He heard the iceberg groan, was it calving? The whale threshed the sea, somewhere out in sightlessness.

Blind, he thought, blind and alone, three little chips of wood huddled under the cliffs of Giant Land.

Gunnar squatted down by Eystein. "I thought I saw a boat yonder," he muttered.

"There are none save ours," the sheriff told him thinly.

"No man's craft, nay . . . but him the drow sails far. In half a boat, with his bones shining and seaweed hanging from them, and those what see him is dead men ere morning."

"Be still," snapped Eystein. "Were all the men who ever drowned to come against us, I'd stand by the king."

A whisper went down the benches, and Eystein wished he had not spoken. He himself thought he could almost see the unhallowed corpse clambering over the side. Water rushed between the barnacled ribs, weed grew on the naked skull, the flesh was puffed and gray and eaten ragged by fish. An eel wriggled where his heart had been, and the eyes were a dreadful hollowness.

A breath of deeper cold flowed from the larboard. Harald could just make out the shimmering flanks of the iceberg, it was drifting toward them. Loud and hoarse, the floes coughed in the north, shifting and grinding.

Even Thor had gone home beaten when he fared hither.

Harald's eyes sought his chest. There lay rusting sword and ax and mail, wrapped in the raven flag. He had thought to plant Landwaster on the shores of Hyperborea. But there was only the sea, and the fog, and the ice, and the cold.