Erling the Bold, R. M. Ballantyne [best black authors txt] 📗

judge of the time of evening, and appeared to doubt whether or not he should persevere any longer.

“Try the foss,” suggested the house-carle; “you seldom fail to get one there.”

“Well, I will try it. Do thou leave the fish under that bush, and follow me. It needs three big fish to make a good feast for my father’s household.”

“Besides,” said the carle, “there is luck in an odd number, as Kettle Flatnose is fond of telling us.”

They were about to ascend the bank to the track which led to the waterfall, about half a mile farther up the river, when their attention was arrested by a shout; looking down the stream in the direction whence it came, they saw a figure approaching them at full speed.

“That must be my brother Alric,” said Erling, on hearing the shout repeated.

“It looks like him,” said the carle.

All doubt on the point was quickly set at rest by the lad, who ran at a pace which soon brought him near. Waving his cap above his head he shouted—

“News! news! good news!”

“Out with thy news, then,” said Erling, as Alric stood before him, panting violently, “though I dare say the best news thou hast to give is that thou hast come back to us safe and well.”

“Hah! let me get wind! nay, I have better news than that,” exclaimed Alric; “Harald is coming—King Harald Haarfager—with a monstrous fleet of longships, cutters, dragons, and little boats, and a mighty host of men, to lay waste Horlingdal with fire and sword, and burn us all alive, perhaps eat us too, who knows!”

“Truly if this be good news,” said Erling, with a laugh, “I hope I may never hear bad news. But where got ye such news, Alric?”

“From the widow Gunhild, to be sure, who is true to us as steel, and comes all the way from Drontheim, out of love to thee, Erling, to tell it. But, I say, don’t you think this good news? I always thought you would give your best battle-axe to have a chance of fighting Harald!”

“Aye, truly, for a chance of fighting Harald, but not for that chance coupled with the other chance of seeing Horlingdal laid waste with fire and sword, to say nothing of being eaten alive, which, I suppose, is thine own addition to the news, boy. But come, if this be so, we do not well to waste time chattering here. Fetch the two fish, carle. To-night we must be content with what luck lies in an even number in spite of the opinion of Kettle Flatnose.—Come, Alric, thou canst tell me more of this as we hasten home.”

“But I have more good news than that to tell,” said the lad, as they hurried towards Haldorstede. “Solve Klofe with his men have come back with us—indeed, I may rather say that we have come back with Solve, for our own ship has been wrecked and lost, but Kettle and I and Thorer and all the men were saved by Solve, with nearly everything belonging to us, and all the booty. It is not more than an hour since we sailed into the fiord, loaded to the shield-circle with, oh! such splendid things—gold, silver, cups, tankards, gems, shawls—and—and I know not what all, besides captives. It was just after we landed that a small boat came round the ness from the north with the widow Gunhild in it, and she jumped ashore, and told what she had seen and heard at Drontheim, and that we may expect Ada’s father, King Hakon, in his longship, to our aid; perhaps he may be coming into the fiord even now while we are talking. And—and, she said also that Rolf Ganger had left the King in a huff, and perhaps we might look for help from him too. So methinks I bring good news, don’t I?”

“Good, aye, and stirring news, my boy,” cried Erling striding onward at such a pace that the carle with the fish was left behind, and Alric was compelled to adopt an undignified trot in order to keep up with his huge brother. “From this I see,” continued Erling in a tone of deep seriousness, “that the long-looked-for time is at last approaching. This battle that must surely come will decide the fate of freemen. King Harald Haarfager must now be crushed, or Norway shall be enslaved. Alric, my boy, thou hast been styled Lightfoot. If ever thou didst strive to merit that title, strive this night as ye have never striven before, for there is urgent need that every friendly blade in the land should assemble in the dale without delay. I will send thee forth with the split arrow as soon as I have seen and spoken with my father.—Ha! I see him coming. Go into the house, lad, and sup well and quickly, for no sleep shall visit thine eyelids this night.”

Alric’s breast swelled with gratification at being spoken to thus earnestly and made of such importance by his brother, whom he admired and loved with an intensity of feeling that no words can convey. Looking up in his face with sparkling eyes, he gave him a little nod. Erling replied with another little nod and a sedate smile, and the boy, turning away, dashed into the house, at which they had now arrived.

“Hast heard the news, Erling?” asked Haldor, as his son drew near.

“Aye, Alric has told it me.”

“What thinkest thou?”

“That the game is about to be played out.”

Haldor looked full in Erling’s face, and his own noble countenance glowed with an expression of majesty which cannot be described, and which arose from the deep conviction that one of the most momentous eras in his life had arrived—a period in which his own fate and that of all he held most dear would in all probability be sealed. Death or victory, he felt assured, were now the alternatives; and when he reflected on the great power of the King, and the stern necessity there was for the exertion of not only the utmost bravery, but the most consummate skill, his whole being glowed with suppressed emotion, while his bearing betokened the presence, and bore the dignified stamp, of a settled purpose to do his best, and meet his fate, for weal or woe, manfully.

“Come,” said he, putting his arm within that of his stout son, “let us turn into the wood awhile. I would converse with thee on this matter.”

“Alric is ready to start with the token,” said Erling.

“I know it, my son. Let him sup first; the women will care well for him, for they will guess the work that lies before him. The people of Ulfstede are with us to-night, and Glumm is here; but Glumm is not of much use as a counsellor just now, poor fellow. It were kind to let him be, until it is time to rouse him up to fight!”

A quiet smile played on Haldor’s lips as he thus alluded to the impossibility of getting Glumm to think of anything but love or fighting at that time.

While the father and son strolled in the wood conversing earnestly, a noisy animated scene was presented in the great hall of Haldorstede; for in it were assembled, besides the ordinary household, the family from Ulfstede, a sprinkling of the neighbours, Gunhild and her men, Guttorm Stoutheart, and Solve Klofe, with Kettle Flatnose, Thorer the Thick, and the chief men who had arrived from the recent viking cruise; all of whom were talking together in the utmost excitement, while the fair Herfrida and her daughters and maids prepared a sumptuous meal.

In those days, and at such an establishment as that of Haldor the Fierce, it was not possible for friends to appear inopportunely. A dozen might have “dropped in” to breakfast, dinner, or supper, without costing Dame Herfrida an anxious thought as to whether the cold joint of yesterday “would do”, or something more must be procured, for she knew that the larder was always well stocked. When, therefore, a miniature army of hungry warriors made a sudden descent upon her, she was quite prepared for them—received them with the matronly dignity and captivating smile for which she was celebrated, and at once gave directions to her commissariat department to produce and prepare meat and drink suitable to the occasion.

The evening which had thus grown so unexpectedly big with present facts and future portents had begun in a very small way—in a way somewhat equivalent to the modern “small tea party”. Ulf of Romsdal, feeling a disposition “to make a night of it”, had propounded to Dame Astrid the idea of “going up to Haldorstede for the evening.” His wife, being amiably disposed, agreed. Hilda and Ada were equally willing, and Glumm, who by a mere chance happened to be there at the time, could not choose but accompany them!

The family at Haldorstede were delighted to see their friends. Dame Herfrida carried off Dame Astrid to her apartment to divest her of her hat and mantle. Ingeborg bore off Ada, and the younger girls of the household made away with Hilda, leaving Ulf to talk the politics of the day with Haldor, while Glumm pretended to listen to them, but listened, in reality, for Ada’s returning footsteps. In a short time the fair ones re-entered the hall, and there they had supper, or, more properly, an interlude supper—a sort of supperlet, so to speak, composed of cold salmon, scones, milk, and ale, which was intended, no doubt, to give them an appetite for the true supper that should follow ere long. Over this supperlet they were all very talkative and merry, with the exception, poor fellow, of Glumm, who sat sometimes glancing at, and always thinking of, Ada, and pendulating, as usual, between the condition of being miserably happy or happily miserable.

No mortal, save Glumm himself, could have told or conceived what a life Ada led him. She took him up by the neck, figuratively speaking, and shook him again and again as a terrier shakes a rat, and dropped him! But here the simile ceases, for whereas the rat usually crawls away, if it can, and evidently does not want more, Glumm always wanted more, and never crawled away. On the contrary, he crawled humbly back to the feet of his tormentor, and by looks, if not words, craved to be shaken again!

It was while Glumm was drinking this cup of mingled bliss and torment, and the others were enjoying their supperlet, that Solve Klofe and his men, and Kettle Flatnose, Thorer the Thick, and the house-carles, burst clamorously into the hall, with old Guttorm Stoutheart, who had met them on the beach. Scarcely had they got over the excitement of this first invasion when the widow Gunhild and her niece arrived to set the household ablaze with her alarming news. The moment that Haldor heard it he dispatched Alric in search of Erling, who, as we have seen, immediately returned home.

Shortly afterwards he and Haldor entered the hall.

“Ho! my men,” cried the latter, “to arms, to arms! Busk ye for the fight, and briskly too, for when Harald Haarfager lifts his hand he is not slow to strike. Where is Alric?”

“Here I am, father.”

“Hast fed well, boy?”

“Aye, famously,” answered Alric, wiping his mouth and tightening his belt.

“Take the war-token, my son, and see that thou speed it well. Let it not fail for want of a messenger. If need be, go all the round thyself, and rest not as long as wind and limb hold out. Thy fighting days have begun early,” he added in a softer tone, as he passed his large hand gently over the fair head of the boy, “perchance they will end early. But, whatever betide, Alric, quit thee like a man—as thou art truly in heart if not in limb.”

Such words from one who was not at any time lavish of praise might, a short time before, have caused the boy to hold up