The Long Ships (40 page)

“For the last time it appeared at a feast,” she said, “swords were bared; and the greed for gold is even greater in these parts than it was at Jellinge.”

“My advice is that you shall wear it,” said Orm. “For I want men to see that you are superior to other women; and you will gain little joy from it if you keep it always locked in a chest.”

The whole household now began to busy itself with preparations for the feast. There was great brewing and baking, and every day Orm fingered the flesh of his slaughter-beasts and had them fattened further.

One day a man came out of the forest from the south with two pack-horses and rode toward the house, where they welcomed him warmly and bade him enter. His name was Ole; he was an old man, and had for many years wandered from house to house throughout the forest country peddling skins and salt, for which reason he was called Salt-Ole and was well known everywhere. No one ever offered him violence, though he always traveled alone, for he was cloven-minded and was held to be different from other men; but he knew all there was to be known about skins and was difficult to deceive, and was always welcomed for his salt in such houses as could afford to indulge in such an extravagant luxury. The great hounds bayed as he approached; but he and his old horses paid no heed to their noise. He remained at the door, however, refusing to cross the threshold, until they had assured him that the priest was not in the house, for of him he was terrified.

“Our priest is no wolf or bear,” said Asa reprovingly as, with her own hands, she set food before him. “But in any case he is out today fishing with Rapp, so you will not have to meet him. A wise man like you ought not to be afraid of a priest of God. But you are welcome none the less; sit you here and eat, old man. You are particularly welcome with your salt just now, for our stock is nearly at an end, and we shall need more than a little to see us through this christening feast if Orm is to have everything as he wants it. It is his wish that every guest shall have a three-finger pinch of white salt to dip his food in, not merely for his meat and sausage, but for his porridge also, though most folk would say that this was going too far, even for people of our position, and that butter and honey ought to be good enough flavoring for porridge even at the greatest feast.”

The old man sat guzzling sour milk, breaking bread into it, and shaking his head at Asa’s talk.

“There is nothing like salt,” he said. “A man should eat all the salt he can. It gives health and strength and long life. It drives bad things from the body and makes the blood good and fresh. Everybody likes salt. Watch this, now!”

The twins were standing hand in hand, gazing earnestly at the old man as he ate and talked. He took two pieces of salt from his belt and held them out toward the children, making a cheerful clucking noise with his tongue. They approached him hesitantly, but at length accepted the crystals and began at once to suck them.

“You see!” cried the old man, hugely jubilant. “Nobody can say no to salt.”

But when he had finished eating and had drunk a cup of ale and been asked for news, and Ylva was ready to argue a price for his wares, it transpired that he had in fact practically no salt left in his bags; none at all of the white, which was called emperor’s salt, and which Orm wanted for his feast, and only a little of the brown.

Asa shook her fist at him. “You should have told us this at the beginning,” she said, “and I would have given you a different welcome. But it is as I have always said: old men, trolls, and old bullocks, one gets no reward for stuffing them with food.”

Ole, however, was by now full and contented, and said that every disappointment brought consolation in its wake. “For there are other peddlers on their way here,” he said. “I passed them yesterday while they were resting at Gökliden; eleven men, fourteen horses, and a boy. They had nails in their sacks, and cloth and salt. They had come up through the Long Stocks, they told me, and were heading for Smaland. I did not know them, though I have sometimes thought that I knew all people; but I am growing old, and new ones get born. But of this I am sure, that they will visit you, for their chieftain inquired about you, Orm.”

Orm had been taking his midday nap in his room, but had now come out to join the others and listen to the old man’s gossip.

“About me?” said Orm. “Who was he?”

“His name is Östen of öre, and he comes from the Finnveding country, but has never been in these parts before. He said he had spent many years at sea, but had invested all his gains in the wares he was carrying, so as to be able to return home still richer.”

“Why did he ask about me?” said Orm.

“He had heard men speak of you as a rich and famous man, such as peddlers like to visit. He had, besides, silver ornaments in his sacks, he told me, and good arrows and bow-sinews.”

“Did he ask about anyone else?” said Orm.

“He wanted to know what other great men there were in the district who would be likely to buy his wares without haggling and complaining about the price. But most of the time he asked about you, because he had heard that you were the richest.”

Orm sat for a while in silence, looking thoughtful.

“Eleven men?” he said.

“And a boy,” replied the old man, “a small one. Such fine wares as he carries need good men to guard them. The boy was there to help with the horses.”

“No doubt,” said Orm. “None the less, it is a good thing to be warned in advance when strangers come in such strength.”

“I marked no evil in him,” said Ole; “but I can tell you this, that he is a bold man, for I told him that you have a priest in your house, and he was not frightened.”

At this they all laughed.

“Why are you afraid of the priest?” asked Orm.

But to this question the old man would give no answer; only he shook his head and looked cunningly at them and mumbled beneath his breath that he was not so stupid but that he knew that that sort of folk were worse than trolls. Then he got up and left without tarrying longer.

“Seven weeks from now I shall be holding my feast,” Orm said to him as he rode away, “and if you are in these parts then, you will be welcome; for it may be that you have this day done me a good service.”

THE NEXT evening the strangers of whom Salt-Ole had warned Orm arrived at Gröning. It had begun to rain, and the men and their horses halted a short way from the gate while one of their number came forward and asked for Orm, adding that they would be glad of shelter for the night. The hounds had given warning of the strangers’ approach, and Orm was already standing before the gate with Rapp, the priest, and five men of his household, all well armed except for Father Willibald.

The stranger who had addressed them was a tall, lean man, clad in a broad cloak. He brushed the rain from his eyes and said: “Such rain as this is unwelcome to peddlers, for neither bales nor leathern sacks can long withstand it, and I have on my horses’ backs salt and cloth, which will suffer if they become damp. Therefore, though I am a stranger to you, I beg, Orm, that you will give me shelter for my wares and a roof to cover the heads of me and my men. I who address you thus am no mere vagabond, but Östen, the son of Ugge, from örestad in Finnveden, a descendant of Long Grim; and my mother’s brother was Styr the Wise, whom all men know of.”

As he spoke, Orm looked at him closely. “You have many men with you,” he said.

“I have sometimes thought them too few,” replied Östen; “for the wares I carry are valuable, and this is not the safest of districts for peddlers to travel in. But so far all has gone well with me, and I trust it may continue so. It may be that I have in my sacks one thing or another that you or your wife might care to buy from me.”

“Have you been baptized?” asked Father Willibald.

“Certainly not!” said Östen indignantly; “nor have any of my companions. We are all honorable men.”

“Your tongue led you astray there,” said Orm sternly. “All of us are baptized men, and the man who asked you that question is a priest of Christ.”

“A stranger cannot be expected to know such things,” replied Östen humbly; “though, now that I remember it, a man we met on the way did tell me that there was a priest in your house. But it had slipped my memory, for most of what he had to say concerned you, Orm, and your reputation for hospitality and your fame as a warrior.”

The rain began to descend more heavily than ever, and thunder could be heard crackling in the distance. Östen glanced toward his wares, and his face began to wear a worried look. His men stood waiting beside the horses with their backs turned toward the wind and their cloaks drawn over their heads, while the rain stood like smoke about them.

Rapp smiled. “Here is a good opportunity for us to buy salt cheaply,” he said.

But Orm said: “Your ancestry may be good, Smalander, and I have no wish to think evil of you, but it is a great deal to ask of a man that he should take eleven armed men into his house for the night. I would not appear inhospitable, but I do not think you can blame me for being hesitant. But I give you two choices: either to depart and seek night shelter elsewhere, or to enter my land and take shelter in my bathhouse for the night with your men and your wares, having first surrendered your weapons to me here before my gate.”

“That is a hard condition,” said Östen, “for if I accept, I place myself and all my wealth in your hands, and no man willingly takes such a risk. But I think you are too great a chieftain to contrive treachery against me, and I am so placed that I cannot but accept your condition. It shall therefore be as you demand.”

So saying, he unhooked his sword from his belt and handed it to Orm. Then he turned and bade his men make haste to bring his wares into the dry. They lost no time in obeying his command, but each man had to surrender his weapons at the gate before he was permitted to enter. The horses were tethered in the grass by the river, there being no danger from wolves at this season.

When all this had been done, Orm invited the stranger to take food and ale with him. After the meal he bargained with Östen for salt and cloth and found him an honorable man to deal with, for he asked no more for his wares than what a man might reasonably be expected to pay. They drank upon the bargain as friends; then Östen said that he and his men were tired after their long day’s journey, and they thanked him for the good fare he had given them and retired to rest.

Outside, the storm increased in violence, and after a while a noise of lowing was heard from the cattle, which were kept at night in a shed next to the house. Rapp and the old cowman went out to see if the beasts had become frightened and broken loose. It was by now quite dark, apart from an occasional flash of lightning. Rapp and the cowman went carefully round the cattleshed and found it undamaged.

Then a thin voice asked from the darkness: “Are you Red Orm?”

“I am not he,” said Rapp, “but I am the next after him in this house. What do you want with him?”

The lightning flashed, and by its light he saw that the speaker was the little boy whom the peddlers had brought with them.

“I want to ask him how much he will give me for his head,” said the boy.

Rapp leaned swiftly down and seized him by the arm.

“What kind of a peddler are you?” he said.

“If I tell him everything I know, perhaps he will give me something for my knowledge,” said the boy eagerly. “Östen has sold his head to King Sven and has come here to collect it.”

“Come with me,” said Rapp.

Together they hurried into the house. Orm had gone to bed with his clothes on, for the storm and the strangers had made him uneasy, and Rapp’s news at once set him wide awake. He forbade them to strike a light, but slipped on his chain shirt.

“How did they deceive me?” he said. “I have their weapons here.”

“They have swords and axes hidden in their bales,” replied the boy. “They say your head is worth a deal of trouble. But I am to have no share of the reward, and they drove me out into the rain to keep a watch on the horses, so I shall not be sorry to see them get the wrong end of the bargain; for I am not of their party any more. They will be here any moment now.”

All Orm’s men were now awake and armed. Including Orm himself and Rapp, they numbered nine; but some of them were old and could not be reckoned upon for much help when it came to fighting.

“We had better go to their place at once,” said Orm. “With luck, we may be able to smoke them in their sleeping-quarters.”

Rapp opened the door a few inches and glanced out.

“The luck is with us,” he said. “It is beginning to grow lighter. If they try to run, they will make good targets for our spears.”

The storm had passed, and the moon was beginning to glimmer feebly through the clouds.

Ylva watched the men as they slipped out through the door.

“I wish this business was over,” she said.

“Do not worry,” said Orm, “but warm some ale for our return. One or another of us may find himself in need of it when we have finished this night’s work.”

They walked silently across the grass toward the bathhouse. A woodshed stood beside it, and they had just reached this when they saw the door of the bathhouse slowly open. Through the gap they could see gray faces and the glint of arms. Orm and several of his men immediately flung their spears at the gap, but none found their mark; then the whoop of battle-cries filled the air, and the doorway became thick with figures as the peddlers swarmed forth. Orm bent down and seized hold of the great chopping-block that stood at the entrance to the woodshed. With his arms almost cracking under the strain, he lifted it from the ground, took a step forward, and flung it with all his might at the open doorway. The foremost of his enemies managed to throw themselves aside in time, but several of those behind were hit and fell to the earth groaning.

“That was a useful thought,” said Rapp.

The peddlers were bold men, though things had turned out otherwise than they had expected, and such as still remained on their feet rushed at once into the attack. Fierce and confused fighting followed, for as clouds passed across the moon, it became difficult to discern friend from foe. Orm was attacked by two men, one of whom he quickly felled; but the other, a short, thickset, heavy-limbed man, lowered his head and charged Orm like a goat, bowling him to the ground and at the same time wounding him in the thigh with a long knife. Orm let go his sword and gripped the man’s neck with one arm, squeezing it as tightly as he could, while with his other hand he grasped the wrist holding the knife. They rolled around in the rain for a good while, for the peddler was short in the neck, as strong as a bear, and as slippery as a troll; but eventually they rolled up against the wall of the bathhouse, and there Orm got a good purchase and slightly altered his grip. The other man began to make a sound like snoring; then something snapped in his neck and he ceased to struggle. Orm got to his feet again and regained his sword; but he was troubled by the knife-wound he had received, and it pained him to move a step, though he could hear two of his men calling for help in the darkness.