A Sea Queen's Sailing by Charles Whistler

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"Steady, friends!" he said sternly, "steady! No need to tell Arnkel
that his time has come yet. Let us get to the hall quietly, and
thereafter shout as you like--

"Ho! stop that man!"

One had broken away from the crowd and was off toward the hall at
full speed, meaning, as I have no doubt, to warn Arnkel and win
reward. But he did not get far. A dozen men were after him, and had
him fast, and no other cared to follow his example.

There was a stockade round the hall and its outbuildings which
stood to right and left of it. The guest house was to the right,
and the bower, which was Gerda's own place, stood on the left, both
handsome timber buildings, with high-pitched roofs and carved
gables and doorways. The hall itself was like them, but larger,
with low, wide eaves that made, as it were, a gallery all round,
raised a little from the ground. Daylight showed that every timber
that could be seen was carved most wonderfully, but one could not
heed that now in the torchlight.

A man stood on guard in the stockade gate, and Gorm the Steward
spoke to him, bidding him salute the queen who had returned. He
gave one look at Gerda, and tossed his leathern helm in the air,
and so fell in with us as we crossed the courtyard to the great
door. From the hall came the pleasant sounds of song and laughter
from the courtmen within.

Gorm knocked and the doors flew open. The shipmen had been expected
to return with him for supper. I saw the whole place as we stood
there for the moment in the broad light of the torches on the
walls.

We entered at the end of the hall, and right over against us was
the high seat, where sat Arnkel and half a dozen other men. There
were no ladies with them, and for that I was glad. Two great fires
burnt on hearths on either side of the hall, halfway down its
length, and at this end sat at their trestle tables the thralls and
herdsmen and fishers of the house. Beyond the fires and below the
high place were the courtmen on either hand, so that from end to
end of the hall ran a clear way for the serving. With them were
their wives and daughters here and there, and there were many women
with the lesser folk nearer us as we entered. Some were carrying
round the ale jugs, and stood still to see us enter.

Asbiorn and his men left us even as the door opened, and went
quickly to the rear of the hall. I could see only one other door,
and that opened behind the high seat, being meant for the ladies of
the house, so that they could pass to the bower without going down
the noisy hall. It led to the open gallery round the building,
whence it was but a step to the bower.

Very bright and pleasant it all was, with the light flashing red on
the courtmen's arms on the walls behind them, and the glow of the
two great pine-log fires on the gay dresses of the women. And
Arnkel himself, a big man with long, reddish hair and bristling
beard, looked at his ease altogether, as he turned a laughing face
to see the guests who came.

There was a little hush as we came out of the shadow of the great
doorway, and everyone turned, of course, to see us. Gerda was
between Bertric and myself, and for the moment behind Gorm the
Steward, who ushered us in with all ceremony. She had her dark
cloak over her mail, and the hood of it hid her bright helm, and we
two were cloaked also. Behind us was Phelim, and then the men
followed. I waited until they were all inside the hall, and then
Gorm stepped aside, and Gerda stood forward.

"Ha!" said Arnkel, smiling broadly, "a lady. Welcome to our hall,
friends. It may be more to your liking than the sea, so late in the
year."

Gerda shook her long cloak from her, and stood before him at the
length of the hall, plain to be known, even as he had last set eyes
on her.

"Am I welcome, Arnkel?" she said in a cold voice, which had no sign
of a quiver in it. "I have come from the sea to which you sent me."

Arnkel's red face went white and ghastly of a sudden, and he sprang
back from the table as if he had been smitten. The guests with him
stared at us and at him, speechless, for they were Eric's men and
knew nothing of Arnkel's ways. But the courtmen rose to their feet
with a wild medley of voices, for this thing seemed to them beyond
belief for the moment. Round us, amid the lesser folk, was a
silence, save for the rustle as they shifted and craned to look at
their young mistress. But there was a whisper growing among them.

Now Arnkel came back to the table and set his hands on it, for they
shook, and stared at Gerda without finding a word in answer. The
courtmen were looking at him now, and her name was passing among
them in undertones. It was in Arnkel's power to make the best of
the return if he would.

"Friends," said Gerda, "yonder man sent me to what he deemed my
death in the ship which bore Thorwald to sea. Will you welcome me
back, if he will not?"

Then there was a great shout from the men who loved her, and I
thought that all was well. But suddenly that shout stilled, for
Arnkel's voice came loud over it all.

"Hold, you fools," he cried. "Look at yon armed men. This is a
trick of theirs. They have your lady captive, and now will win the
place if you suffer them.

"Here, you great warrior, who are you?"

He pointed to me, and the colour was coming back to his face, while
his eyes were fierce. He would make one bid for his power yet.

"I am Malcolm of Caithness, the jarl," I answered. "I am the
champion of Queen Gerda, whom I and my comrade here saved from the
ship in which you would have burned her.

"Listen, Thorwald's men. We took her, well nigh dead, from the
chamber where your king was laid. See, what are these arms I wear?
They will prove it, for they came thence, and are her gift."

"Aye," he sneered in a harsh voice, "you took them at the same time
you took the girl.

"To your arms, men, and see that these robbers do not escape."

The courtmen sprang at their weapons, and there was uproar enough.
For a moment I could not tell what might come, and my hand was on
my sword hilt, though I would not draw the weapon yet. Then came
Gerda's clear voice again.

"To me, Gerda's men," she cried, and her sword flashed out. "He
lies, and you know it."

Three men led a rush down the hall to us, and one was lame. They
were my Caithness men who had escaped from Asbiorn here. After and
with them were a dozen older courtmen of Thorwald's. The women
screamed and shrank back against the walls of the hall, hiding
behind the tables. We had naught to fear from the thralls here, for
they were shouting for Gerda.

One of Eric's men leaned over to Arnkel and spoke to him. Then he
shook his head and scowled at him, and stood up and raised his
hand.

"Here," he said, when a silence fell, "I am a stranger, and it
seems to me that there is matter for a fight, unless somewhat is
set straight. What is this tale brought up against your lord? I
have heard how Thorwald was set to sea in his ship."

Then old Gorm answered in a voice which shook with wrath: "And with
him, bound in the funeral chamber, with burning peat piled round
it, Arnkel set the Lady Gerda to burn at sea, even as you see her.
But for chance she had never stood in Arnkel's way more. She is
Thorwald's heiress."

In the silence which followed Gerda spoke again. Men were doubting
yet, and Arnkel's men had no mind to begin a fight which would be
fell enough.

"You have said that I am a captive, Arnkel," she said calmly.

"Listen, friends, and say if so I am."

She half turned to me, and took my hand before them all, smiling.

"This is my promised husband," she said proudly, "Jarl Malcolm, who
saved me. If I am captive, it is willingly.

"Now, Arnkel, I will let bygones be bygones. It shall be as it was
before the day when the ship was set adrift. Only you shall go your
way to the king, to be judged by him."

"Fair speech, Arnkel," said Eric's courtier. "Better listen to it.
You have to deal with yon Scots jarl--and I ken the Scotsmen."

He sat down, watching the throng. He would take no hand in the
matter, wherein he was wise. But those words of his came to Arnkel
as a taunt, and his look at me was terrible.

"Ho, men," he shouted, "will you own an outland lord?"

"Aye, we will," said Gorm the Steward sturdily. "Sooner than listen
to a coward and would-be murderer of women."

That ended the matter. The courtmen yelled, and one or two who
tried to get to Arnkel's side were seized and hurled to the ground
by the men who cheered for Gerda, and I knew that the day was won.
But I watched Arnkel, for there was somewhat of madness in his
look. His hand stole down to the long dirk in his belt, and then
clutched it.

Like a flash the keen blade fled across the hall, straight at Gerda
as she stood fearless before him, and I was only just in time. I
stood on her right, and my left arm caught it. The blade went
through the muscles of the forearm, and stayed there, but that was
of no account. Gerda's light mail would hardly have stopped it.

She gave a little cry, and I set my arm behind me, smiling. But the
men saw and roared, and there was not one on the side of the man
who would do so evil a deed. They made a rush for the dais,
overturning the tables, and hustling aside Eric's men, who were in
their way, else there would have been an end of Arnkel.

Maybe in the long run it had been as well for him, but in the
scuffle he opened the door behind him and rushed out. I heard a
shout from outside, and then a trampling, and thereafter a silence.

Asbiorn was not far off. Afterwards I found that he had a ladder
against the wall, and a man was watching through a high window all
that went on, in case we needed help. Whereby it happened that
Arnkel ran into his arms.

Some of Asbiorn's men came in as soon as that was done, and the
courtmen huddled back at the sight of these newcomers, whose swords
were out. Gerda called to them that these were friends, and bade
our men sheathe their weapons.

There was quiet then, and Gerda looked round to me. Phelim had
taken charge of my arm at once, and the long blade was out, and a
scarf, which some girl who had not lost her senses had handed him,
was round the wound.

"Not much harm done," he said, smiling at Gerda, who thanked him in
words and me with a look.

Now the folk crowded round us with great shouts of welcome, and the
men came to thrust forward the hilts of their weapons that she
should touch them, in token of homage given and accepted. The women
were trying to reach her also, with words of joy and praise. So I
took her through them all to the high place, and set her there in
Thorwald's chair, and Gorm the Steward passed round some word, and
came himself with a silver cup full of mead, and set it in her
hand, and whispered to her.

Whereon she smiled and rose up, and held the cup high, and cried to
her folk:

"Skoal, friends, and thanks!"

And all down the hall, from her own folk and from Hakon's, and even
from those strangers, Eric's men, came the answer:

"Skoal to Gerda the Queen, and welcome!"

And then one lifted his voice and cried:

"Skoal to Jarl Malcolm!"

Men took that up, and it was good to hear them.

Gerda gave me the cup her lips had just touched, and I drank
"skoal" to them in turn, and so Gerda the Queen had come home.

Gerda passed to the bower presently, and left us in the hall. The
men still made merry with shout and song, and Gorm was preparing
the guest hall for us. Asbiorn had come in with the rest of his
men, grim and silent, and I asked him if he had Arnkel safe. He
nodded and reached for a horn of ale, and sat down at the end of
the high place, for at the time Bertric and I were talking with
Eric's men, and trying to settle matters with them, for we could
not let them go back to their master.

One was a jarl from the south, and the others men of less note, and
they had looked to gather men to Eric hence. Now they were fairly
thunderstruck to hear of the coming of Hakon, and as it seemed to
us not altogether displeased. There would be nothing but turmoil in
the land so long as Eric reigned.

In the end these men passed their word not to try to escape, or to
plot here for Eric, until they went back with the ship to
Thrandheim, and so we had no more trouble with them. Thereafter two
joined Hakon, as I have heard, and the others were glad to bide
quietly and at least not hinder him; so we did well for the young
king.

When we had arranged thus with these men, I went to Asbiorn to
learn how he had bestowed Arnkel.

"He is down at the wharf," he answered. "Aye, on board the ship.
Maybe you had better come and see him."

"I do not know that I have aught to say to him," said I. "The man
is not worth a word. What do the townsfolk say of him?"

"They had a good deal to say," he answered. "Not what one would
call good words, either. There is no party on his side here, and
you will have naught but welcome on all hands. Nevertheless, come
down to the ship before you go to the guest house for the night. I
sleep on board."

"The people cannot hold you as in league with Arnkel now," I said.
"They will not molest you."

"They know that there is no league between us now, at all events,"
he answered, with a short laugh. "No, there will be no trouble of
any kind."

Bertric and I rose up and bade Eric's men go to the guest hall, and
so we two went out of the great door with Asbiorn. With us came
Phelim and my Caithness men, and Gorm the Steward, and a dozen of
the others of the place. It was a still, frosty night, and overhead
wavered and flickered across the stars the red and golden shafts
and waves of the northern lights, very brightly, so that all the
sky seemed to burn with them, and it was well nigh as light as day
with their weird brightness. Under them the still fjord glowed in
answer, silent and peaceful, as the fires burned up and faded.

We went to the stockade gate, and down the little street to the
wharf. Only a few men were about, but they were not armed, and the
houses were dark now. There was no sign of unrest in all the place,
as there well might have been had things gone awry for us.

"Have a care, Asbiorn," said Bertric. "There may be some gathering
to rescue Arnkel, for all the quiet."

He laughed again, and his laugh was hard.

"There will be none," he said, and pointed.

The mast of the ship had been stepped again, but the sail was still
on deck. Only a spare yard had been hoisted half-mast high across
the ship. And at the outboard end of it swung, black against the
red fires of the sky, the body of the man who had wrought the
trouble. He had found the death which he deserved.

"Hakon's word," said Asbiorn quietly. "You mind what he said."

I remembered, and it came to me that Asbiorn had done right. I do
not know what else could have been done with such a man. And in
this matter neither I nor Gerda had any hand.

"The townsfolk judged him," said Asbiorn again, "and we did Hakon's
bidding. Else they had hewn him in pieces."

Suddenly the red wildfires sank, and it was very dark. In the
darkness there came from seaward a sound which swelled up, nearer
and nearer, as it were the cry of some mighty pack of hounds, and
with the wild baying, the yell of hunters and the clang of their
horns. It swept over us, and passed toward the mountains while we
stood motionless, listening.

"It is the wild hunt," said old Gorm, gripping my arm. "It is Odin
who chases the wraith of Arnkel hence."

But Phelim looked up to where against the dark cliff the cross
stood out bright above the hall.

"If it is Odin," he said, "he flies before the might of yonder
sign. This place is his no longer."

The others did not heed him, but I would that what he said was the
very truth. I had ever heard that one who died as did Arnkel was
the quarry of Odin's hunters for evermore, and the sounds scared
me.

The clamour of that wild hunt died away, and we breathed more
freely. Soon the wild lights burned up across the north again, and
then Bertric spoke.

"Sink yonder thing in the fjord, Asbiorn. Gerda should not see it
thus."

Therewith we went back to the guest hall, and there was naught to
disturb the quiet of the night. Asbiorn saw to that matter
straightway.

Men say now that when the northern fires light the sky, across the
fjord drifts the wraith of Arnkel, and that ever the wild hunt
comes up from the sea and hounds him hence. I have heard the bay of
those terrible hounds more than once indeed, but I have seen
naught, and round our hall is no unrest.

In the sunshine of next day Gerda would hear what had become of
Arnkel, supposing that he was kept safely somewhere. I think that
the hurt to me, small as it was, angered her against him more than
the wrongs he had done to herself.

"He is dead," I told her. "He died at the hand of Asbiorn and the
men of the place, in all justice. He may be forgotten."

She did not ask more, for the way in which he ended she would not
wish to hear. Only she sighed, and said:

"Let us forget him then. I would have forgiven him. He tried to
take even my life from me indeed, but instead he has given me all I
could long for. He sent me to meet you, Malcolm, on the sea."

Then she laid her hand on my bound arm gently, and smiled at me.

"This is the second time you have saved my life," she said. "Nor
was there one to share the deed this time. You cannot bring in
Bertric and Dalfin now."

Which seemed to please her in a way which I will not try to fathom.
That sort of thing makes a man feel how little worth he is in
truth.

Then on that morning she must needs take me to see all the place
and the folk. My father's old ship lay in the fjord, ready to sail
to Eric, and she must hear how we escaped from her again. There
were more pleasant doings also, but I need not tell of them.

For now it seems to me that the story is done, if there must be
told one or two more things, seeing that Gerda had come home, and
all was well. I have no words to tell of the wedding that was
before Bertric must needs go back to Hakon, for none but a lady
could compass that. But I will say that it was a goodly gathering
thereat, for word went quickly round, and the good people came in
to grace it from far and wide. Bertric gave away the bride, as the
friend of Hakon, who was her guardian; and after the wedding in the
old Norse way, Phelim blessed us after the manner of the new faith
which he and his had taught us to love, though he might not do more
for us, as yet unbaptized.

Thereafter was feasting and rejoicing enough to please all, if the
notice had been short; and then Bertric must go his way, promising
to see us again as soon as might be. So we watched the ship pass
down the fjord and into the narrow seaward channel, and he waved to
us, and we to him, and the men cheered for Hakon, and so we turned
back to the new life of peace that lay before us.

There was not much fighting ere Hakon came to the throne in
earnest. Eric fled the land as man after man rose for his rival,
and at last took to the Viking path, and thereafter made friends
with Athelstane of England, and held Northumbria for him as
under-king. So he troubled Norway no more.

But for the spreading of the new faith Hakon would have had no man
against him; but therein he had unrest enough. Maybe it was to be
expected, as he went to work with too high a hand in that matter in
his zeal; for here we had no trouble. Phelim and Gerda won the folk
with ways and words of love, and before two years had passed all
were working to frame a church here with much pride in the
building, giving time and labour for naught but the honour of the
faith.

Hakon came to the consecrating of that church, and with him were
Bertric and Dalfin, and then those good friends of ours stood
sponsors for us at the first christenings that were therein.

Thereafter Bertric went home to England, and we have seen him no
more. Only we know that he is high in honour with his king, and
happily wedded in his Dorset home. Dalfin is still in Norway, and
high in honour with Hakon, and here he will bide, being wedded, and
holding himself to be a very Norseman. There might be worse than
he, in all truth. And Asbiorn is with Hakon, as the head of his
courtmen, silent and ready, and well liked by all. Those two we see
when Hakon goes on progress through the land, and comes in turn to
us, as he ever will, or else when we go to the court, when that is
near us.

Still over the hall against the black cliff glows the bright cross
at times, clear and steady. Men say that it does but come from some
unseen openings in the roof of the hall when the lights are set in
some unheeded way--but I cannot tell. However it comes, it has been
a portent of good, and minds me of that night when we brought home
at last my sea queen, Gerda. Surely it is a token of the peace
which has come to us and to her folk, under the wise rule of
Norway's first Christian king, Hakon the Good.

Notes.

1. The Norns were the Fates of the old Norse mythology.

2. Thrandheim, now Trondhjem, the ancient capital of Norway.

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