TLV - 02 - The Road of the Sea Horse (7 page)

"How has it been here at home?" he asked carefully.

"Oh . . . well enough. You must see Maria, she's grown so fat and beautiful. She stumps all over the house, and is making up a speech of her own. I know a few words of it, a brooch is a
fass
and a hand is
trrr
and—"

"Yes." He led her to the high seat; almost, she wriggled with pleasure at sitting by him instead of in the women's end of the hall. He looked away, into the fires. "What of the folk? What has been happening?"

"I hear little about that. They buried Magnus by his father in Clement's church, with great mourning. And, oh, yes, Queen Alfhild has left with her son Thori, and—"

"What's this?" He turned on her a glance so sharp that she shrank back. "Go on, tell me the rest."

"I don't know," she whispered. "It's . . . I've never cared for such matters, you know that, Harald."

He thought bleakly that Thora would have learned the whole story at once and taken what measures were needful. Wrath was in his voice as he shouted across the room, demanding the truth. A guardsman who had stayed behind told him. Alfhild and Thori had gone to Svein Estridhsson with the tale of Magnus's will, and were now the guests either of the king or of Thorkell Geysa.

"We'll see about that next summer," said Harald. He remained in a foul temper throughout the evening, and Elizabeth dared not speak to him. That cast a gloom over the feast, and no one was sorry when he ended it early.

A boy carried a torch before the king and queen as they went upstairs to their bedchamber. He lit candles for them and bowed his way out. The room had been festively decked with skins and tapestries and vessels of precious metal, though it remained cold since no one in Norway could build a stove to heat it. Harald bolted the door.

Elizabeth laid a hand on his. There was a glimmer of tears in her gaze, but she smiled. "I would you did not get angered so easily," she said. "But welcome home, my dearest."

He could not bring himself to respond, but stood looking down at her. "Is something wrong?" she asked.

"No, I suppose not." He unpinned the brooch at his throat. "I've much to do. This summer's work is lost."

"Let me help you." She knelt before him and began unfastening his cross-gaiters. "I've missed you, only God knows how much I missed you. It's lonely here, the highborn ladies are not friendly to us, and . . . No, I'll not pity myself." Her fingers shook on the leggings. "The time was so long, though. This summer was worse than last winter. I was always thinking of you lying hurt, dead somewhere and I never to see you again."

"Ellisif—" He stopped.

"Yes?" She looked up hopefully.

"Here, come stand before me." He reached down and raised her. "Ellisif, it's time we were honest with each other. We're not two people who have been joined, but two houses, and I fear you've not been overly happy with me."

She watched him steadily. "Not at first," she said. "But this summer I could never stop thinking of you. Now, if you should
...
if you should die, nothing would remain for me."

He said in a rush: "There is another woman. She is coming here in spring."

Elizabeth stood without moving, but the blood left her face. Finally she said tonelessly: "There have been many other women. That means little."

"This one is different," he answered. "She is
Thora Thorbergsdottir from Gizki. I've promised her the name of queen together with you."

His wife shook her head, blindly. "No," she said.

"Yes. You shall not have less honor, I vow. You shall be first woman in the kingdom, and—"

"First!" Suddenly she was weeping, but her voice rose to a wildcat shriek and she stretched out fingers like claws. "First, you say! I'd liefer beg in the ditches than share my house with your trull!"

"But—"

"You cold-blooded scoundrel! You bastard son of a pig!" She faced him in a fury, shuddering and sobbing. "What's a woman to you but a brood mare—and you always rutting! What have you done, what will you ever do, but kill men who've wrought you no harm, and burn homes you're too lazy and stupid to build, and beget a worm's nest of drunken rascals like yourself? It's gold you live for, you sit on your gold like a dragon, eating men. Well, gold you shall have!"

She rushed across the chamber and picked up a heavy gilt candlestick and hurled it at him. He caught it in midair and threw it down to splinter the floor.

"Stop that!" he roared.

"Yes, stop I will, when you've choked on the blood you drink. You heel-biting whoremonger, I see now why they hate you, you're a blight on the land. Would to God you'd been spitted in the South, you gut-rotten dog, and would to God the Saracens had eaten you!"

He strode over and grabbed her by the arms and shook her till her teeth rattled. -

"Now you stop squalling and listen to me," he snarled. "What in Satan's name do you look for? Would you have me lie around while the Wends raid our coasts and the Danes come back to suck us dry? What can you give me, when have you ever given? A corpse in bed and an unspeaking dullness by daylight! I've never dared speak my thoughts to you, because you shrink away from them. . . . You can't understand and you won't try. If you knew how many yawns I've smothered when we sat together . . . God's blood, a man wants a wife, and that you've never been. Now I'll have no more of these woman tantrums. You'll greet Thora as one queen does another, and you'll behave yourself or be sent home!"

Something went out of her. He let her go, and she sat down on the bed and wept for a long time. Harald stood uneasily, wondering what to do, feeling ashamed of himself. Olaf, he'd liefer face the whole Danish Army than endure this.

When she finally raised her face, it was puffed and weary. Her eyes were red, and she hiccuped, but only her fingers moved, twisted together.

"I'm sorry," he said into the stillness. That was a hard thing to say. "I suppose they don't call me Hardrede for nothing."

"Is this your will?"
she asked in a thin voice.

"Yes," he said.

"But she isn't coming at once?" "No. Not till the snow melts." Elizabeth stood up and laid cold hands on his shoulders. "Then have me this winter," she said.

"Forgive me, I was hurt. But send me not away."

He pulled her to him. For the first time he saw her unclothed, before they blew out the candles.

"Half of you is still more than all of any other man," she said, and tried to laugh. "Perhaps we can have another child."

In the darkness, he tried to imagine she was Thora.

IV

How Anchors Were Dropped

1

The time of waiting did not go too slowly for Harald, for he found much to do. There was Olaf's church to finish; he got workmen, but it was not completed for another couple of years. There was his royal duty to giving judgment in certain cases; he tried to be fair in an ordinary dispute between men, but hanged thieves and robbers, which caused some ill will. At the midwinter Thing he called for changes in Magnus's law, notably he wanted to raise taxes to support the land defense and build more warships; but here he was defeated, for Einar Thambaskelfir spoke otherwise with little deference, and the folk shouted agreement. A suit he brought, to take a northland estate belonging to a chief known to have had dealings with Svein Estridhsson, was also decided against him.

He throttled his rage, for he could not go too roughly as yet, and showed his displeasure by leaving the town. With a few men, he fared north by sled and ski, a hunting trip which took him far into Haalogaland, to great winter-white forests thronged with deer, elk, bear, wisent, and aurochs.

Elizabeth, who had tried to be more as he wished, bade him farewell so cheerily it was not till later he remembered her hope that he would remain with her. His leaving was even more hard-souled now, when word had lately come of her mother's death. Well, in spring he'd send to Russia for the priests she wanted.

It was a sorrow to her that they did not get another child, but she turned herself more and more to little Maria, who was becoming a bonny girl with big gray eyes and light-brown hair. She said she would not let the lass go to a foster home, as was the practice in great families, and Harald yielded to that.

The first thaw quickened his blood; he returned to Nidharos and prowled hungrily about, wondering when Thora would be here. Nevertheless, she came earlier than he had hoped, not decorously in a wagon but riding a drenched and staggering horse through melting drifts and across mountain slopes where landslides grumbled. It was a chill blustery day when she and her attendants came into the town; wind hooted in the streets and churned ice floes together in the Nidh; out in the fields, crows flattened themselves under its rush, spreading dark wings over the drenched and steaming earth.

She dismounted stiffly before the king's hall. Mud was caked on her skirts and her shoes squelched, but she wore gold and silver. The smoky-red hair tossed about a flushed face, her cloak blew wildly and the dress was thrown tight against the long slim legs.

Elizabeth came up behind Harald, where he stood in the doorway. She paused a moment, looking at the young woman. "I understand," she said finally, in a low voice. Her head lifted, and when Thora came in she smiled and said, "Welcome," through pale lips.

Harald and Thora stood looking at each other, not speaking, for a long time. Then she sneezed and laughed: "That was a wet journey. I'd not have made it for anyone else!"

"Come," he said. His hand trembled a little as he took her arm and led her inside.

That evening he gave his largest feast so far. It lasted for a week, and he was lavish with gifts. But the first night he and Thora went to bed early. As the torches fluttered before them, up the stair and into the royal bedchamber, as if this were in truth a wedding, they heard the guffaws from below which meant that the coarse jokes had begun. Thora laughed as well.

"Shameless," he grinned.

"No, only happy." She leaned against him, he felt the live suppleness of her. "But for you, Harald, yes, I am shameless."

And when they were alone, she came eagerly into his embrace. He fumbled at her clothes, and despite Northern usage she slipped them quickly off and stood before him. "Let the candles burn," she said. "I want to see you." She shivered, crossing her arms above breasts which were full for a maiden. "Come, don't wait, it's cold here."

Even the first time they had each other, she gasped with pleasure. In the next few nights, they got little sleep.

As soon as the roads were clear, Harald sent out word that again there would be a full levy, half the men and ships in the realm. This time, he swore, he would have Denmark if he must hunt Svein Estridhsson up to the Jotuns's home. Nidharos became a caldron of armed men, and the bay filled with dragons.

But one afternoon the king was in his stables, currying his best horse, when Halldor Snorrason sought him out. Looking up as the light from the door was blocked off, Harald saw him standing and went over. "Good day to you, Halldor. What do you seek?"

"I'd have a word with you, my lord." The Icelander was grave.

"Well, then, let's take a walk down to the dock." Harald nodded at his carles, who took over the work; several waiting guardsmen shouldered their axes and followed him as he strolled from the yard.

"Why do you call me lord?" he asked. "I thought we were too old friends for such lickspittle talk."

"You are the lord now," said Halldor. "You have what you've hankered for, the Norse throne, and this Danish business is foolishness."

"Not so," answered Harald, unoffended. "You've seen as well as I, down in the South, what a united empire can mean."

"You'll never have one," said Halldor. "The time's not ripe. It took many hundreds of years to build up the Roman domain. But that's no concern of mine. What I ask now is leave to go home to Iceland."

Harald stopped. Of the street activity around him, swaggering warriors, tramping horses, haggling merchants, plodding oxcarts, Harald was hardly aware. Looking down at the scarred face, he saw wistfulness under its calm.

"Are you not pleased with my service?" he asked.

"Oh, yes. You're no niggard to your friends. But we're scarce getting younger, you and I, and it's time I got me a wife and a home."

"I can arrange a good marriage for you."

"I want to be among my own folk," said Halldor. "I have brothers, sisters, kin I haven't seen for . . . God in Heaven, eighteen years since I left them! Now there's a trader from the West-firths, bound back after spending the winter here, and I can get passage with him. My wealth will buy me a good farm."