Complete works of r m ba.., p.552
Complete Works of R M Ballantyne, page 552
Erling and Glumm instantly pulled their helmets well down on their brows, wrapped their mantles round them so as to conceal their figures as much as possible, then entered the wood and disappeared.
Meanwhile, on the open space in front of Haldor’s ruined dwelling, King Harald Haarfager stood surrounded by his court men. He was still bespattered with the blood and dust of battle, and furiously angry at the escape of Haldor and the burning of the stede. His gilt helmet restrained the exuberance of his shaggy locks, and he stood on the top of a slight elevation or mound, from the base of which his men extended in a dense ring in front of him, eager to ascertain who it was that had been so unexpectedly captured. Erling and Glumm mingled with the crowd unnoticed, for so many of the men assembled there had been collected from various districts, that, to each, strange faces were the rule instead of the exception.
When the girls were led into the ring there was a murmur of admiration, and many complimentary remarks were made about them. The old hermit was dragged in after them, and excited a little attention for a few moments. He had experienced rough handling from his captors. His grey hair was dishevelled and his face bloodstained, for, although he had offered no resistance, some of the men who seized him were so much out of humour in consequence of the burning of the stede and the escape of its inmates, that they were glad to vent their anger on anyone.
“Good-looking girls, both of them,” remarked the King to Jarl Rongvold, as they were being led forward.— “Who are ye?” he added, addressing them.
Ada looked round on the circle of men with a frightened glance, and cast down her eyes, but did not reply, while Hilda raised her eyes timidly to the King’s face, but lacked courage to speak.
“Come,” said the King sternly, “let us have no false modesty. Ye are before Norway’s King, therefore speak, and to the point. Who art thou?”
He addressed himself to Hilda, who replied —
“I am Hilda, daughter of Ulf of Romsdal.”
“And thou?” he added, turning to her companion.
“My name is Ada. My father is Hakon of Drontheim.”
“Ha!” exclaimed the King, with a bitter smile. “Is it so? Thy father has met his desert, then, for he now lies at the bottom of the fiord.”
Ada turned deadly pale, but made no reply.
“Know ye where Haldor the Fierce is, and his insolent son Erling?” asked the King.
Hilda flushed at this, and answered with some spirit that she did not know, and that if she did she would not tell.
“Of course not,” said the King; “I might have guessed as much, and do but waste my time with ye. — Stand aside — bring forward yonder fellow.”
The hermit was immediately led forward.
“Who art thou?” asked the King.
“An old wanderer on the face of the earth,” replied Christian.
“That is easily seen,” answered the King; “but not too old, it would seem, to do a little mischief when the chance falls in thy way.”
“Methinks, sire,” whispered Jarl Rongvold, “that this fellow is one of those strange madmen who have taken up with that new religion, which I do not profess to understand.”
“Sayest thou so?” exclaimed Harald, “then will I test him. — Ho! fetch me a piece of horse flesh.”
A piece of horse flesh was brought without delay, for some that had been sacrificed in the Drontheim temple had been packed up and carried off among other provisions when the expedition set forth.
“Here, old man, eat thou a portion of that,” said Harald, holding the flesh towards him.
“I may not eat what has been sacrificed to idols,” said the hermit.
“Ho! ho! then thou art not a worshipper of Odin? Say, dog, what art thou?”
“I am a follower of the Lord Jesus Christ. He is my Saviour. To Him I live, and for Him I can die.”
“Can He save you from me?” demanded Harald.
“He can,” answered the hermit earnestly, “and will save you too, King Harald, from your sins, and all who now hear me, if they will but turn to Him.”
“Now will I test him,” said the King. “Stand forth, Hake of Hadeland, and hew me the old man’s head from his body.”
“Spare him! O spare him!” cried Hilda, throwing herself suddenly between Hake and his victim, who stood with the resigned air of a man who had made up his mind to die. “He has twice saved my life, and has never done you evil in thought or deed.”
“Stand aside, my pretty maid. Nay, then, if thou wilt not, I must grant thy request; but it is upon one condition: that this Saviour shall either come himself or send a champion to deliver the old man. — Come,” he added, turning fiercely to the hermit, “pray that thy God shall send thee a champion now, for if He does not, as I live thou shalt die.”
“I may not pray at thy bidding,” said the hermit calmly; “besides, it needs not that I should, because I have already prayed — before dawn this morning — that He would grant me His blessing in the form that seemed best to Himself.”
“And hast thou got it?”
“I have — in that I possess a quiet spirit, and do not fear to die, now that His time has come.”
“’Tis something this, I admit,” returned the King; “yet methinks ’tis but a poor blessing, after all, with death as the end of it.”
“Death is not the end of it,” said the hermit, with a kindling eye, “for after death is everlasting joy and glory with the Lord. Besides, King Harald, which were better, think you: to die with a willing spirit and bright hope, or to live full of restless ambition, disappointment, and rage, even although victorious and King of Norway?”
The King’s countenance grew livid with anger as he turned to the berserk and said, in a voice of suppressed passion— “Go forward, Hake, and slay him!”
“Now — the time has come,” whispered Erling to Glumm.
“Get as near to Ada as thou canst; for the rest, may Christian’s God be with us!”
As he spoke he sprang into the circle, sword in hand, and stood suddenly between the astonished Hake and the hermit.
There was a loud murmur of amazement at this unexpected apparition, and not a few of the spectators were awestricken, supposing that this was actually a champion sent from the spirit world.
“Harald,” cried Erling, for the berserk had shrunk back dismayed, “I do now accept the challenge, and come here to champion the old man.”
At the sound of his voice the King’s face lighted up with intelligence.
“Ha!” he exclaimed suddenly; “has the old man’s God sent Erling the Bold?”
“Truly I think he has,” replied Erling; “at all events it was not for this purpose that I came hither to-day. But now that I have come, and of mine own free will put myself in thy power, I claim the right to do battle for my old friend with thy stoutest man — so set him forth, King Harald.”
“What sayest thou, Hake?” said the King, turning to his berserk with a smile; “art willing to join issue with the Bold one? — bold enough, truly, and insolent as well.”
Hake, who had recovered his self-possession the instant he recognised Erling’s voice, and who was by no means wanting in courage, suddenly uttered one of his terrible roars, and rushed upon Erling like a thunderbolt.
Our hero was too well accustomed to the ways of his class to be caught off his guard. Although Hake rained blows upon him so fast that it was almost impossible for the spectators to follow the motions of his flashing sword, Erling received them all on his shield, or parried them with his short sword — which, as being more manageable in a mêlée, he had selected for his present enterprise. The instant, however, that the berserk’s furious onset began to slacken, Erling fetched him such a tremendous cut on the sword that the weapon was broken close off at the hilt. Disdaining to slay an unarmed foe, he leaped upon the berserk, and struck him a blow with the hilt of his sword, which drove the casque down upon his head and stretched him flat upon the sward.
Without waiting an instant Erling flung down his shield and walked to the place where Hilda stood, took her by the hand, and whispered, “Courage! come with me and thou shalt be saved.” At the same moment Glumm stepped to Ada’s side, and took her right hand in his left. No sword was drawn, for Glumm had not drawn his, and no one present had the faintest idea of what the young men intended to attempt. Indeed, they were all so amazed at the sudden termination of the fight, that the men of the inner part of the ring actually stood aside to let them pass, before the King had time to shout: —
“Seize them!”
In other circumstances, at Harald’s word a thousand swords would have been drawn, and the doom of Erling and his friends at once been sealed; but the natural ferocity of the tyrant’s followers had been spellbound, and for the time paralysed by the calm bearing of old Christian and the prowess of his champion, whose opportune appearance had all the effect of a supernatural interposition, as it might well be deemed: and it will be readily believed that our hero and Glumm did not fail to use the advantage thus offered. Leading those whom they had come to rescue, and closely followed by the hermit, they passed completely through the circle of men. But at the repetition, in a voice of thunder, of the royal mandate, some hundreds of the King’s men surrounded them, and, notwithstanding their wondrous strength and skill, they were being gradually overpowered by numbers, when suddenly a tremendous shout was heard, and next moment Ulf with his fifty men in battle array rushed out of the forest.
King Harald endeavoured hastily to draw up his men in something like order. Hearing the cry in rear, the men in front of Erling and Glumm fell aside, so that they quickly cut down those who still stood in their way, and ran towards their friends, who opened their ranks to let them pass — then reclosed, and fell upon the King’s men with incredible fury. Although outnumbered by at least twenty to one, the disparity did not at first tell against them, owing to the confusion in the enemy’s ranks, and the confined space of ground on which they fought. They were thus enabled to act with great vigour, and, being animated by the spirit of desperate men, they actually for some time kept driving back the King’s forces.
But the continual assault of fresh foes began to tell, and several of Ulf’s men had already fallen, when Erling’s voice was heard ringing high above the din of battle. Instantly every man turned on his heel and fled towards the river madly pursued by the whole of the King’s host.
By this time Erling and Glumm had got the girls into the boat, and steered them safely down the rapid into the little bay, where they waited for their companions as patiently as they could.
Meanwhile Ulf’s men reached the foot of the Crow Cliff and one by one sprang into the boiling rapid. Ulf was among the first there, but he stayed to see them all pass. Before the last could do so their enemies were upon them, but Ulf kept them at bay for a few moments; and when the last of his men took the water he retreated fighting, and leaped backwards into the flood. One or two of the King’s men followed, but they failed to catch him, were carried down stream, and, being ignorant of the dangers of the place, were swept over the foss and killed. Most of the host, however, turned suddenly, and set off at full speed to cross the ridge and pursue their enemies, by the path to which we have already referred. Before they had crossed it, Erling and his men were far on their way down the valley; and when the pursuers reached the coast there was no sign of the fugitives anywhere.
On reaching the cave Erling found that his father had got everything in readiness to start; so, assembling the people together without delay, he divided them into two bands, one of which he sent into the Swan, the other into Glumm’s vessel, the Crane.
Haldor also went in the Swan, along with Ulf of Romsdal, Thorer the Thick, Kettle Flatnose, Alric, and the hermit, besides Dames Herfrida and Astrid, and the widow Gunhild, Ingeborg, and all Haldor’s younger children. With Glumm there were also several women besides Ada. Ivor the Old and Finn the One-eyed also went with him; but most of the old and crippled hangers-on of both families, as well as Glumm’s mother, were taken by Erling into the Swan, as the accommodation there was better than on board the Crane.
“Now, Glumm,” said Erling, when all were on board, “we must say farewell to Norway. Keep close in my wake. If they give chase we will do our best to escape, but if that may not be, we will fight and fall together.” The friends shook hands; then, each getting into his ship, the stern ropes were cast off, the oars were dipped, and they shot out upon the blue fiord, which the sinking sun had left in a solemn subdued light, although his beams still glowed brightly on the snow-clad mountain peaks.
They had proceeded some distance down the fiord before their pursuers observed them. Then a mighty shout told that they were discovered; and the grinding of the heavy ships’ keels was distinctly heard upon the shore, as they were pushed off into deep water. Immediately after, the splash of hundreds of oars warned them to make haste.
“Pull, my lads, — pull with heart,” cried Erling; “and let these slaves see how freemen can make their ocean steeds leap across the sea! Pull! I see a breeze just off the mouth of the fiord. If we reach that, we may laugh at the tyrant King.”
“What may yonder line on the water be?” said Haldor, with an anxious look, as he pointed towards the mouth of the fiord.
Erling caught his breath, and the blood rushed to his temples as he gazed for a moment in silence.
“’Tis a boom,” cried Kettle, who had recovered by this time, and who now leaped towards the fore deck with terrible energy.
“All is lost!” exclaimed Ulf, in a tone of bitterness which words cannot express.
“Are ye sure it is a boom?” cried Erling quickly. Everyone looked with intense earnestness at the black line that stretched completely across the mouth of the fiord, and each gave it as his opinion that it was a boom. There could not indeed be any doubt on the point. King Harald’s berserk, although somewhat tardy, had fulfilled his orders but too well; and now a succession of huge logs, or tree trunks, joined together by thick iron chains, completely barred their progress seaward.
“Surely we can burst through,” suggested Kettle, returning to the poop, his huge frame quivering with contending emotions.
“Impossible,” said Haldor; “I have tried it before, and failed. Of course we must make the attempt, but I have no hope except in this,” he added, touching his sword, “and not much in that either, now.”
“But I have tried it before, and did not fail, and I’ll try it again,” cried Erling heartily. “Come aft, men, quick, all of ye; every man except the rowers. Women, children, and cripples, get ye into the waist. The stoutest men to the oars — jump!”
These orders were obeyed at once. All the best men in the ship seized the oars, Erling himself, Kettle, and Haldor setting the example, while Thorer took the helm, and, hailing Glumm, bade him do as they did.
The effect of this was that the stern of the Swan was so weighed down with the weight of people on the poop, that her bows and a third of her keel were raised high out of the water, while the men, straining with every fibre of their muscles at the oars, sent her careering forward with trebled speed, and the foam rolled in milky billows in her wake.
“When I give the word ‘Forward,’” cried Erling, “leap like lightning, all of ye, to the fore deck.”
The pursuers, elated by this time with the certainty of success, pulled also with unwonted energy.
When the Swan came within about twenty yards of the boom, which floated almost on a level with the water, Thorer gave the word —
“One stroke for freedom!”
“Ho! ho!” shouted Erling and Haldor, straining until their oars cracked again. The foam hissed from the blades, and the Swan rushed as if she had been suddenly endued with true vitality.
Next moment she stuck fast — with the boom amidships beneath her!
“Forward!” shouted Erling.
All the unengaged men sprang instantly to the forecastle, and their weight sank it slowly down, but it seemed inclined for a moment to remain balanced on the boom. Hereupon the men at the oars jumped up and also ran forward. The bow dipped at once, the good ship slid over with a plunge, and glided out upon the sea!
A great shout or yell told that this had been noticed by their foes, who still rowed madly after them; but heedless of this, Erling backed water and waited for Glumm, who had made similar preparations, and was now close on the boom. His vessel went fairly on, and stuck halfway, as the other had done; but when she was balanced and about to turn over, there was a terrible rending sound in the hull, then a crash, and the Crane broke in two, throwing half of her crew into the sea on the inner side of the boom, and the other half outside.
Well was it for them all then that the Swan had waited! She was at once backed towards the scene of disaster, and as many as possible were picked up. Among the rescued was Glumm, with Ada in his arms. But many were drowned, and a few stuck to the boom, refusing to let go, or to make any attempt to reach the Swan.
Erling knew, however, that these were sure to be picked up by the King’s ships, so he once more ordered the rowers to give way, and the vessel sprang forth on her voyage some time before the pursuers reached the boom. When these did so, most of them attempted to leap it as the fugitives had done — for none of the Norsemen there lacked spirit. Some, however, failed to get on to it at all, others got on a short way and stuck fast, while two or three ships broke their backs, as Glumm’s had done, and threw their crews into the water — but not one got over.
The men then leaped on the boom, and the sound of axes was heard as they laboured to cut it through, or to dash away its iron fastenings. It was, however, a thoroughly well-executed piece of work, and for a long time resisted their utmost efforts. When at length it did give way, and the King’s ships passed through, the Swan was beyond pursuit — far away on the horizon, with all sail set, and running before a stiff breeze, while the shades of evening were closing in around her!
