The Long Ships (60 page)

As things now were, salt was scarcely procurable, however large a price people might be willing to pay for it, thanks to King Sven Forkbeard of Denmark and the luck that attended all his enterprises. For King Sven was now ranging the sea with larger fleets than any man had heard tell of before, laying violent hands on any ship that crossed his path. He had plundered Hedeby and sacked it, and was reported to have laid waste all the country of the Frisians; it was known, moreover, that he had a mind to conquer the whole of England and as much more as he had time for. Trade and merchandise interested him not at all, but only long ships and sworded men; and things had come to such a pass that of late no salt-ships had come from the west, because they no longer dared to brave the northern waters. So no salt was procurable except that which the Gothlanders brought from Wendland, and this was bought up so eagerly by the coastal dwellers that little or none ever found its way inland.

Orm took eight men with him and rode with Olof Summerbird down to Kivik. There they waited for several days in the hope that a ship might soon arrive, while many people gathered there from all parts on the same errand. At last two Gotland ships were sighted. They were heavily laden and dropped anchor a good way outside the harbor. For the hunger for salt had become so great that the Gothlanders now drove their trade cautiously, to avoid being killed by overzealous customers. Their ships were large, high-gunwaled, and well manned, and anyone who wanted to buy from them had to row out in small boats, from which they were only allowed aboard two at a time.

Olof Summerbird and Orm hired a fishing-boat and were pulled out to the ships. They wore red cloaks and polished helmets. Olof grumbled at the smallness of the boat, for he had wanted to be rowed out in greater state. When their turn arrived, they climbed aboard the ship, which bore a chieftain’s standard, and as they did so, their rowers, one of Orm’s men and one of Olof’s, cried out their names in a loud voice, so that the Gothlanders might understand at once that they were now being honored by a visit from chieftains.

“Olof Styrsson the Magnificent, Chieftain of the Finnvedings, whom many call Olof Summerbird,” cried one.

“Orm Tostesson the Far-Traveled, Chieftain of the Sea, whom most men call Red Orm,” cried the other.

There was murmuring among the Gothlanders when these names were heard, and some of the men came forward to greet them; for there were several in the ship who had known Olof in the Eastland, and others who had sailed with Thorkel the Tall to England and remembered Orm from that campaign.

A man was seated by the gunwale, near to the point where they had come aboard. Suddenly he began to moan excitedly and stretched out one of his arms toward them. He was a large man with a matted beard, which was beginning to grow gray; across his face he wore a broad bandage covering his eyes, and as he stretched his right arm toward Orm and Olof, they could see that the hand had been severed at the wrist.

“Look at the blind man,” said the Gothlanders. “There is something he wishes to say.”

“He seems to know one of you,” said the ship’s captain. “Besides what you can see, he has also lost his tongue, so that he cannot speak; nor do we know who he is. He was led aboard by a merchant from the East, while we were at anchor trading with the Kures, at the mouth of the river Dvina. The merchant told us that this man wished to go to Skania. He had silver to pay for his passage, so I accepted him. He understands what is said to him and, after much questioning, I have discovered that his family lives in Skania. But more than that I do not know, not even his name.”

“Tongue, eyes, and right hand,” said Olof Summerbird thoughtfully. “Surely it is the Byzantines who have treated him thus.”

The blind man nodded eagerly.

“I am Olof Styrsson of Finnveden, and have served in the bodyguard of the Emperor Basil at Miklagard. Is it I whom you know?”

The blind man shook his head.

“Then perhaps it is I,” said Orm, “though I cannot guess who you may be. I am Orm, the son of Toste, the son of Thorgrim, who lived at Grimstad on the Mound. Do you know me?”

At this the blind man nodded several times excitedly, and sounds came from his throat.

“Were you with us when we sailed to Spain with Krok? Or to England with Thorkel the Tall?”

But to both these questions the stranger shook his head. Orm stood deep in thought.

“Are you yourself from the Mound?” he asked.

The man nodded again and began to tremble.

“It is a long while since I left those parts,” said Orm. “But if you know me, it may be that we were neighbors there. Have you been abroad for many years?”

The blind man nodded slowly and heaved a deep sigh. He raised the hand that was left to him, spread the fingers wide, and closed his fist again. He did this five times and then held up four fingers.

“This conversation goes better than one would have supposed possible,” said Olof Summerbird. “By this, if I understand him aright, he means that he had been abroad for twenty-nine years.”

The blind man nodded.

“Twenty-nine years,” said Orm reflectively. “That means that I was thirteen when you left. I ought to remember if anyone left our district for the East around that time.”

The blind man had risen to his feet and was standing in front of Orm. His lips were moving, and he gestured with his hand as though beseeching Orm to remember quickly who he was.

Suddenly Orm said, in a changed voice: “Are you my brother Are?”

Into the blind man’s face there came a kind of smile. He nodded his head slowly; then he tottered on his feet, sank down on his bench, and sat there trembling in every limb.

Everyone in the ship was amazed at this encounter and thought he had witnessed an incident worth recounting to other men. Orm stood staring thoughtfully at the blind man.

“I should be lying if I said that I recognize you,” he said, “for it is a long while since last I saw you, and in the meantime you have changed cruelly. But you shall now ride home with me, and there you will find someone who will straightway recognize you if you are the man you claim to be. For our old mother is still alive, and often speaks of you. Surely it is God Himself who has steered your steps, so that, despite your blindness, you have found your way home to me and her.”

Orm and Olof now began to bargain with the Gothlanders for salt. They were both amazed at the great meanness that the Gothlanders showed as soon as they turned to any question of business. Many of the crew owned shares in the ship and her cargo, and they all proved to be birds of a feather, merry and friendly when other matters were being discussed, but as sharp as knives when it came to striking a bargain.

“We force no man to act against his will,” they said, “concerning salt or anything else; but anyone who comes to buy our wares must either pay our price or go without. We are richer than other men, and intend to grow richer still; for we Gothlanders are cleverer than the run of mankind. We do not rob or kill like most men, but increase our wealth by honorable trading; and we know better than you what salt is worth just now. All honor to good King Sven, who has enabled us to raise our prices!”

“I should not regard any man who praises King Sven as clever,” said Orm bitterly. “I think it would be easier to get justice from pirates and murderers than from such men as you.”

“Men often speak thus of us,” said the Gothlanders, “but they do us injustice. Look at your unfortunate brother here, whom you found in our ship. He has silver in his belt, and not a little; but none of us has taken any of it, save only what we originally demanded for his passage and food-money. Other men would have taken his belt and flung him into the sea; but we are honorable men, though it is true that many think otherwise. But if he had been carrying gold, he would have been less safe, for no man can withstand the temptation of gold.”

“I begin to long to go to sea again,” said Orm, “if only for the chance of encountering such a ship as yours.”

The Gothlanders laughed. “Many men cherish that longing,” they said, “but such as try to requite it go home, if at all, with grievous wounds to nurse. For you must know that we are strong fighters and are not afraid to show our strength when the need arises. Styrbjörn we feared, but no man else. But enough of this talk. Let us know at once whether you wish to buy from us or no; for there are many others waiting their turn.”

Olof Summerbird bought his sacks and paid for them with few words; but when Orm reckoned up the amount he would have to pay, he began to grumble loudly. His brother touched him with his hand; opening his fist, he revealed a small heap of silver coins, which he carefully placed in the palm of Orm’s right hand.

“You see!” said the Gothlanders. “We spoke the truth. He has plenty of silver. Now you cannot doubt any longer that he is your brother.”

Orm glanced uncertainly at the silver. Then he said: “From you, Are, I will accept this money; but you must not suppose that I am either mean or poor, for I have enough wealth for both of us. But it is always humiliating to pay money to merchants, especially when they are such men as these.”

“They outnumber us,” said Olof, “and we must have salt, whatever the price. But it is certainly true that a man has to be rich to deal with men from Gotland.”

They bade the merchants a curt farewell, rowed their salt ashore, and started homewards; and Orm hardly knew whether to rejoice or be sad that he was bringing home a brother so fearfully maimed.

During their journey, when they had pitched camp for the night, Orm and Olof sought, by means of many questions, to learn from Are what had befallen him. Olof Summerbird could not remember having seen him in Miklagard; after much questioning, however, they at length gathered that he had been a chieftain in one of the Emperor’s warships. He had not been maimed as a punishment, but while in captivity, after some fight; Olof had been correct, however, in guessing that it had been the Byzantines who had treated him thus. But more than this they could not discover, though they worded their questions skillfully; for all that Are could do in reply was to signify either yes or no, and they could see that it galled him bitterly that they could not find the right questions to ask him and that he could not guide their thoughts. They understood that he had been involved in some strange adventure, in which gold and treachery had played their part, and that he possessed some knowledge that he wished to impart to them; but all their efforts to discover what this might be proved vain.

“There is nothing for it but to be patient,” said Orm at length. “It is useless for us to plague you with any more of this guessing, for it will lead us nowhere. When we reach home we will get our priest to help us, and then we may, perhaps, find a way to your secret; though how we shall manage to do so is more than I know.”

Olof Summerbird said: “Nothing that he has to tell us can be more amazing that the fact of his having found his way home across so many miles of land and sea in such a state of helplessness. If so strange a thing can happen, let us hope that it may not be impossible for us to hit upon some way to discovering his secret. Certain it is that I shall not go home from Gröning until I know more of what he has to tell us.”

Are sighed and wiped the sweat from his brow and sat rigid.

When they came to within sight of Gröning, Orm rode ahead of the others to break the news to Asa, for he feared that otherwise the joy and sorrow of seeing Are again might prove too great a shock for her. At first she was confused by what he told her and began to weep bitterly; then, however, she fell on her knees to the floor, beat her head against a bench, and thanked God for returning to her the son whom she had so long regarded as lost.

When they led Are to the house, she ran wailing to embrace him, and for some time would not let him go; then she began straightway to chide Orm for having doubted that this was his brother. After she had calmed herself, she said she would make a better bandage for his eyes; then, when she heard that he was hungry, she became more cheerful and went to prepare with her own hands those dishes which she remembered he liked best. For several days she moved as though in a dream, thinking of nothing but Are and what she might do to comfort him. When he showed a good appetite, she sat watching him happily; when, once, he placed his hand on hers to signify his thanks, she broke into tears of joy; and when she tired him with incessant prattling, so that he pressed his hand and the stump of his wrist against his ears and moaned aloud, she closed her mouth and sat humbly silent for a full minute before commencing afresh.

All the house-folk were filled with compassion toward Are and helped him in every way they could think of. The children feared him at first, but soon came to like him. He loved especially to be led down to the river in the mornings and sit fishing on the bank, with someone to help him bait and cast his line. Blackhair was his favorite fishing companion, and Rapp, too, whenever the latter had time, perhaps because, of all the household, they most liked to sit in silence like himself.

Everyone was curious to know more of the bad luck that had befallen him, for Orm had told them all that he had been able to learn during the journey from Kivik. Olof Summerbird sent his men home with his salt, keeping only two of them with him at Gröning; he told Ylva that he would like, if he might, to stay until they had succeeded in discovering more of Are’s secret, as he had the feeling that it might contain matter of some importance. Ylva was happy to let him stay, for she liked him and was always glad when he visited them; besides which, she observed that his eyes turned ever more frequently toward Ludmilla, who was by now a full-grown woman of fifteen, waxing lovelier every day.

“It is lucky for us that you are willing to stay,” said Orm, “for we shall never learn much from Are without your help; you are the only one of us here who knows Miklagard and the people who live in it.”

But, despite all their efforts and those of the priest and the women, they could not elicit much more of Are’s story. The only certain new fact they learned was that what had been done to him had been done on the river Dnieper, in the land of the Patzinaks, near the great portage beside the weirs. But more than that they could not discover; and Olof Summerbird found it difficult to imagine what Byzantines could be doing there.