The Adventures of Helgi the Viking

When Helgi reached the smaller farmstead, Malachi had already disappeared indoors to report to Gerda. Helgi hung around in the yard, reluctant to follow him. Gerda had told him off a number of times recently, for neglecting his chores, staying out late, and answering back. Not that he minded being told off for things he had or had not done, but half the time it wasn’t entirely his fault. Most of his chores were intensely boring, and he couldn’t help it if his attention wandered off into more interesting realms.

The farm where Helgi now lived belonged to his uncle Arnor, who was Halfdan’s younger brother. The estate in Norway, along with the right to trade with the Finns and collect tribute from them in the king’s name, had been inherited by them both equally, but rather than break it up, it was decided that Halfdan, the more forceful of the two, would manage the property and deal with the Finns. Arnor had taken his share of the inheritance and moved to Iceland, where he bought a piece of farmland at Stapi. There he built the Manor, a grand residence by settler standards, which had been extended after he got married, and improved several times since then. It boasted several spacious living rooms, panelled walls, an indoor communal latrine, and an adjoining sauna room with a fire-pit and wooden benches, which was the envy of his neighbours.

When Helgi and his father and the few surviving members of their household had arrived in Iceland as refugees, Arnor had taken them in and proposed that they live at the Forge—a farmstead he owned further inland, which had started off as a smithy for the Manor but had grown into a satellite farm in its own right, since it was nearer to the mountain pastures and dairy. Arnor said they could stay there as long as they wanted: there was plenty of work on his farm to keep Halfdan’s small household occupied; indeed, he hoped they would settle there for good. He wanted Halfdan to take charge of trading the goods they produced—cheese, woollen cloth, and dried cod. Halfdan had thanked his brother and said he would be happy to help but only as a temporary measure.

The Forge was ringed by a hay meadow which was enclosed by a wall of stone and turf. The farmhouse and its outbuildings were long and low: rough-hewn volcanic rocks provided a foundation, while the walls and gabled roofs were built from thick slabs of turf wedged around ramshackle driftwood frames. Over the years they had stood there grass had grown rich and green over the steeply pitched roofs and outside walls, so that from a distance the turf houses blended into the fields and resembled small hillocks. To Helgi, they were curious constructions, quite unlike his old home in Norway, which had been an elegant, high-roofed timbered hall built from stout planks of spruce.

The turf sides of the Forge were laid in a herringbone pattern and in the centre of the longest wall a low door had been cut and surrounded with a wooden porch, where wet clothes and muddy boots could be left. To prevent cold air coming in, the entrance room was sealed off from the centre of the house by a wooden partition. From here, a step descended to the uneven earthen floor of the living room. It was almost pitch dark unless the oil-lamps were lit, because there were no windows. Only a little daylight filtered through small holes under the eaves and the round vents in the roof. This long, low room was surrounded by a wide raised bench on which people sat and worked, ate and slept. Helgi slept under the eaves in a raised loft-bed which was reached by a ladder too rickety to bear anyone else’s weight. His father had a bedcloset with carved wooden bed-boards and curtains, which sectioned it off from the benches where his men slept. A long peat fire smouldered perpetually in the centre of the floor. Most of the fumes found their way out through the smoke-hole in the roof, but fish and legs of mutton that were suspended from the low, blackened rafters quickly became cured in the warm smoky air, and damp clothes hung up to dry were soon coated in soot. A large vertical weaving-loom stood against the wall, where the fire and the back door afforded the best light.

When the old smithy had been converted into living quarters years ago, holes had been cut through the walls at either end of the main hall so that two extensions could be added. The first doorway led to a smaller living room with a fireplace, a table and chairs. The second led to a dark passage, off which lay the storeroom and a room where the women slept. The privy was built in a separate outhouse.

Although Helgi was grateful to have somewhere to live, he didn’t like the Forge much. It was like living in a smelly old burrow underground. Even when the weather was cold, he spent as much time as he could out in the open.

As Helgi entered the yard, he saw that someone had left a chestnut-brown horse tethered to the post beside the water trough. He recognized the horse as belonging to his uncle’s stud. Someone from the Manor must have called on them. Helgi brought his own horse over to the water trough for a drink, thinking all the while about Malachi’s remark. If the Ericsson brothers were looking for him, it could only mean trouble. Perhaps the youngest of the three, Thorstein, had spotted him walking along the cliffs at their end of the bay.

Although he was standing in warm sunlight and the yard was sheltered compared to the rocks where he had been playing, Helgi shivered, suddenly gripped by a profound sense of unease. Must be Malachi’s bad influence, he told himself. Malachi was given to premonitions and strong feelings of impending doom.

Kol sank his nose deep in the water trough and drank, and Helgi sat beside him on the edge of the stone basin. He knew the Ericssons only by sight and by reputation. Although they were still in their teens, they wielded a lot of influence in the neighbourhood because they were the sons of the local chieftain. They weren’t particularly popular. All three of them went about heavily armed with an assortment of weaponry. People found them arrogant and overbearing. When Helgi first saw them, from a distance, he decided he didn’t like the look of them at all, and thereafter went to elaborate lengths to keep out of their way. So it was worrying to learn that they wanted to talk to him.

Helgi suspected it had something to do with the bad feeling that existed between his father Halfdan and their father Eric. This hostility and mutual suspicion dated from the moment of their first meeting, three months earlier, when Halfdan and his family arrived in Iceland, storm-tossed and destitute. Eric happened to be the first person they encountered when they brought their battered ship to land.

Eric must have been watching their approach because as soon as Halfdan dropped anchor, a little way out in the bay, Helgi saw a boat put out from the shore and make a direct line for their vessel. He danced about in excitement, thinking that uncle Arnor was coming out to meet them, but Halfdan replied that it was more likely to be some local bigwig who, spying a foreign merchant’s ship, wanted first pick of the goods. Halfdan’s guess proved correct. When the boat came alongside, a tall, well-dressed man stood up in the bow and hailed them. He was perhaps in his mid-forties. It seemed to Helgi that all his hair had migrated to his chin. His bald head gleamed in the sun, but his lower jaw was sheathed in a long dark beard, forked and plaited. Hard blue eyes stared up at them out of a shiny pink face, either side of a nose which was rather too large. In a voice resonant with power, he introduced himself as the chieftain of the district and inquired as to their names and where they had come from and whether they had any goods for sale. Halfdan said he was welcome to come on board and inspect his cargo.

Eric clambered aboard with three of his crew, leaving the fourth below in the boat. His bodyguards were heavy men with big fists, dull eyes, and sullen expressions. The first to come aboard had a loosely hanging jaw and large ears which stuck out like jug-handles on either side of a narrow face; the second had a bulging red neck and eyebrows that joined together in a bushy black fringe; and the last, who was the heaviest of the three, wore a greasy headband and a patch over one eye.

Halfdan climbed down into the cargo hold, prised the lids off several boxes, and brought out some sample wares to show him. Eric admired the quality of the grey furs and soapstone pots, the walrus-hide ropes and iron spearheads. Then he said pleasantly, ‘Are you looking for lodgings? Do you need a base from which to trade over the winter? I own the large estate up there’—he swept his hand along the cliffs that lined the bay—‘All the land between Stapi and Kamb belongs to me. It would be the best place for you to set up business. I can offer you very comfortable accommodation for a share of the profits.’

Halfdan thanked him and said, ‘I am deeply honoured by your invitation, but I’m afraid I must turn it down. My brother lives on that headland and I would prefer to lodge with him for free.’

The chieftain looked surprised; his brows contracted in displeasure and deep frown lines wrinkled his pink oily dome. ‘You are Arnor Hjorvardsson’s brother? Well, Arnor is one of my followers so I’ll say nothing against him. However, Arnor does not enjoy the same degree of influence in this area as I do. If you lodge with him, and not with us, your stock will take longer to sell. In fact, I can confidently predict that it will sell very slowly indeed.’

Halfdan stopped smiling. His black eyes narrowed and he regarded Eric with a cold, shrewd gaze. ‘You’ll make it your business to see that it does, eh?’ he said in a level voice.

‘I could make things very awkward for you if I chose,’ said Eric, rocking on his heels with a self-important air. ‘By law, I have the right and the responsibility to set prices on wares that foreign merchants bring into my district, so that people aren’t forced to pay excessive amounts for imported goods. Now, for those dozen grey furs, I would expect to pay no more than one ounce of silver, in other words six ells of homespun cloth; and for those spearheads, let’s say, two aurar each.’

Halfdan gave a derisive snort. ‘You must be joking! These are luxury goods, and no amount of spurious legal argument can disguise the fact that you’re scheming to acquire them for next to nothing!’

Eric shrugged and said, ‘Those are the prices I am setting, and I think they are fair and reasonable. If you don’t like them, you can sail elsewhere.’

Halfdan’s weather-browned face darkened a shade, his posture stiffened, and his hands balled into fists. He stared at Eric long and hard, as if trying to decide whether the pleasure of tipping the chieftain overboard would be worth the consequences. Suddenly he laughed and threw up his hand in a careless gesture. ‘Go on then, slap whatever price you like on my merchandise. It makes no difference to me. I haven’t come here primarily to trade.’

Eric seemed to read a threat in those words. A suspicious look came into his steely eyes and he scrutinized Halfdan as if trying to determine how this merchant could afford to be so high-handed. Then he said, ‘Since you have refused my custom and hospitality, I can only assume that you’ve come here to cause trouble.’

Halfdan looked mildly amused, as though the idea was absurd. ‘I haven’t come here to stir up trouble against you, if that’s what you’re afraid of. Nevertheless, I intend to stay in this district, with my brother, for as long as need be, no matter how awkward you make things for me.’

Eric looked furious and even, Helgi thought, a little afraid. ‘You’ll be sorry you rejected my offer,’ he said, through clenched teeth, and left the ship.

Later that day, when Halfdan told his brother what had happened, Arnor ran his hand worriedly through his receding fair hair and said, ‘No one can blame you for reacting the way you did, but it’s unfortunate you had to fall out so soon with the most powerful man in the district.’

‘It’s just the latest in a string of misfortunes,’ said Halfdan gloomily. ‘Still, I’m not going to let him provoke me. Eric can go to Hel, for all I care.’

‘It’s easy enough to ignore him if he lets you alone, but what if he decides to pursue it?’

‘Then I may need your help to deal with him, Arnor, because I have very few men.’
‘I thought you’d say that,’ said Arnor. An uncomfortable expression came into his round blue eyes. He frowned, breathed in deeply and blew the air out through his nose. ‘To tell you the truth, Eric is the man I’d least like to quarrel with, apart from you. Not only would he be a dangerous man to have as an enemy, but he’s my next-door neighbour and I owe him allegiance. Nevertheless, I will stand by you, as a brother should, and give you all the support I can.’

‘Thanks, Arnor,’ said Halfdan, smiling at him. ‘It’s good to know I can count on you. Eric seems to think he has the entire district under his thumb, but I knew he’d misjudged you completely when he said you were a man of little consequence.’

Arnor started in indignation. ‘He said what?’ he spluttered. ‘Me, one of the wealthiest farmers in the west, a man of no consequence? Why, Eric depends on men like me to keep his position. He’ll be doing himself no favours at all if he loses one of his most prominent supporters!’

In the days that followed, Halfdan’s crew unloaded the cargo and several tons of ballast stones, dragged the ship ashore, and hauled her up the beach on rollers, which were placed under her keel. She was set up for the winter in Arnor’s boatshed. The weapons and goods they had brought with them from Norway were moved to a storehouse on Arnor’s estate.

Helgi vividly recalled what had happened next. They had been living at the Forge for less than a week when they woke to find that Arnor’s storehouse had been broken into in the night and the most valuable items of Halfdan’s cargo—the boxes of weapons, furs, ivory, and several bags of fine white flour—had gone missing.

Halfdan had almost broken down and wept when he saw what had happened. ‘This is disastrous!’ he cried. ‘As if I hadn’t suffered enough losses already! But I know who is behind this.’

In his fury, he said he was going over to confront Eric straightaway and asked Arnor if he was prepared to accompany him. Arnor agreed to come along and support him but said he didn’t relish the thought of violence. Helgi remembered pleading with his father to let him come too, but Halfdan said they needed someone to keep an eye on the storehouse while they were away. Halfdan fetched his shield, buckled on his sword, and put on a helmet, and called his men together. They armed themselves, saddled their horses, and rode over to Eric’s estate in a group of eight.

Left behind, Helgi stood guard outside the storehouse until Arnor’s men came to repair the shattered door. Then he kept watch by the gate, waiting anxiously for his father to return. Before long, eight riders came into sight, galloping across the headland towards the farm. To Helgi’s relief, none of them appeared to be hurt. The men reined up at the entrance and dismounted. Halfdan’s face was hard and furious. He handed his bridle to Helgi without a word, marched past him, and went straight into the house. Arnor followed him indoors but Halfdan had shut himself in the back room and wouldn’t talk to anyone.

Halfdan’s men ignored Helgi’s shyly questioning looks and went off to stable their horses, but Helgi had a good excuse to go with them because he was holding his father’s horse. He fell in beside Jorund. He knew Jorund would tell him everything. He liked Jorund best of all his father’s men, because of his flamboyant style, his flame-coloured hair and battle-scarred cheek, and because he was a first-rate swordsman and the hero of many campaigns, and most of all because Jorund had looked out for him in Norway. Jorund was devoted to his father, but he had time for Helgi too, and he loved to talk. Sure enough, when Helgi asked him what had happened, he got the full story. Helgi listened closely, picturing the details to himself as vividly as if he had actually been there.

Jorund told him that when they got to Eric’s place, Halfdan and his men formed up outside the gate and Eric came out to meet them. It seemed he had been expecting them because he had no fewer than twenty men with him, all fully armed, but he greeted Halfdan with a smile and asked him how trade was going.

‘Not too well,’ replied Halfdan. ‘Thieves broke into Arnor’s storehouse last night and stole all my best merchandise and weapons.’

Eric’s mouth twitched in satisfaction and he said, ‘Well, Halfdan, you surely can’t expect any sympathy from me. Not when you are the one most to blame for your losses. If you’d accepted my offer in the first place, the goods could have been stored here quite securely. My farm is well defended and no one in their right mind would dare to rob it.’

‘We haven’t come here looking for sympathy,’ Halfdan replied. ‘We’ve come here to look for the goods and weapons that were stolen from us.’

‘What makes you think you will find them here?’ asked Eric.

‘I hardly think they will be found anywhere else,’ Halfdan replied.

Eric drew himself up straight. His bald, shiny head glowed pink with outrage and his long, black beard bristled with indignation. ‘Are you accusing me of theft?’ he squawked.

‘I have more reason to suspect you than anyone else,’ said Halfdan. ‘If you are innocent, you’ll want to clear your name by giving us proof that you haven’t stolen my goods.’

‘And what kind of proof would that be?’

‘We want to come in and search your premises.’

‘Oh, you do, do you? Well, you can’t come in. Not without a proper warrant, legally appointed witnesses, and a guarantee that my own stock will be safe while you’re searching.’

When Halfdan heard that, a dark red flush broke out on his cheeks and he glared at Eric with angry eyes. ‘If you won’t let us in,’ he said, ‘we’ll assume you’re guilty and take action to recover our property.’

Eric laughed horribly (‘like a donkey braying’ was how Jorund described it) and his bodyguards started chuckling too. ‘What are you going to do?’ he jeered. ‘Charge me, without evidence?’

‘That wasn’t the kind of action I had in mind,’ snarled Halfdan, and he stepped forward, brandishing his spear. (‘And I got ready to follow him,’ Jorund told Helgi.) Halfdan laid his hand on the gate, but before he could wrench it open, Arnor pushed his stout body between Halfdan and the gate and held him back, gripping him hard by the arms.

‘Please, brother, think what you’re doing!’ Arnor pleaded.

‘Get your hands off me!’ growled Halfdan, his fists clenched and his body straining, as he stared rigidly at Eric over his brother’s shoulder.

Eric wasn’t smiling any more. ‘If you want trouble, you’re gonna get it, and plenty,’ he said in a low, menacing voice, enunciating each word slowly and distinctly.

Arnor, caught in the middle, was casting nervous glances between the two men. ‘You should go about this legally,’ he begged Halfdan. ‘Fighting with weapons isn’t going to get you anywhere.’ He tried to push Halfdan back and force his arms down, but Halfdan kept struggling against him.

Then Eric made a dismissive motion with his hand and snapped at Arnor, ‘Get him out of here.’

Helgi trailed his hand in the water-trough, remembering how Jorund had chuckled as he recounted the next part of the story. They had been standing side by side in the stable, unsaddling their horses.

‘Eric shouldn’t have said that,’ Jorund had told him. ‘That was going too far. As soon as Arnor heard him say that, he did precisely the opposite and let go of your father. As for Halfdan, he stopped struggling at once, straightened his clothes, and said quite calmly, “I was going anyway.” It was quite funny really.’

‘What happened next?’ Helgi had asked.

‘Oh, we mounted our horses and rode away. But before we left, your father gave Eric a grim warning. “The day will come,” he said, “when you will have to reckon with me. Until then, keep your thieving hands off my ship. If you so much as lay a finger on her, I’ll come in the night and burn your farm to the ground!” and he laughed like a madman. Well, it was more of a wild, bloodcurdling howl than a laugh. Made my hair stand on end, I can tell you! Eric must’ve been scared shitless. Even so, it was a real let-down. There we were, all fired up and ready to give them a good kicking … only to be denied the pleasure.’ Jorund had sounded bitterly disappointed.

Looking back at it, as he sat beside Kol in the yard, Helgi squirmed in painful sympathy for Jorund and his father. What a shameful humiliation it had been! To have rushed over there in a blaze of fury and indignation, intent on meting out justice, only to be turned away at the gate without even gaining entry! At the same time, he was secretly glad that no harm had befallen Jorund and his father.

Helgi remembered how later that night, he had overheard his father and his uncle arguing loudly in the back room, their raised voices carrying right through the door.

‘We were in no position to hold battle with him, Halfdan! His men outnumbered ours.’

‘That won’t matter. I’ll fight him on my own, challenge him to single combat.’

‘No, no, no, Halfdan! This is a delicate matter to handle! We’re up against a powerful opponent, but we can turn his abuse of power to our own advantage, if we’re subtle about it. We must first find proof that he’s lying and then use what we find against him.’

‘But Arnor, if we don’t act immediately, he’ll sell the stuff! People with stolen goods in their possession usually want to get rid of them as quickly as possible.’

‘I don’t think he’ll be in too much of a hurry to pass the stuff on. The goods are obviously foreign and easy to identify once they’re in circulation. Eric won’t want to incriminate himself—he’s too cunning for that.’

‘But he’ll go and sell the stuff elsewhere! He’ll find some dodgy dealer who won’t ask him any questions …’

‘Halfdan, calm down and listen to me. It would be better to fight him in court than to fight it out with weapons. We must go through the proper legal channels. Get a skilled advocate on our side. Why don’t you go and see Jon the Lawman? We may have to pay him a good amount to take on the case, but I’m sure he won’t refuse us.’

Halfdan was eventually persuaded to go to visit Jon, who lived further north, in a part of Iceland known as the West Fjords. He was a sheep-farmer but had built up a reputation as an advocate, since he had a deep knowledge of the law—indeed he knew most of it by heart. He spent a lot of his time resolving squabbles that arose between his neighbours, mainly over fishing rights. He became a friend of the family after successfully defending Helgi’s grandfather Hjorvard in a court case many years ago. Hjorvard had got into trouble on a raiding expedition when he made the mistake of attacking a ship that belonged to a well-respected chieftain—thinking that he had cornered a notorious pirate who went by the same name. This was all ancient history, but it had been one of Helgi’s favourite stories as a small child.

Helgi remembered his father coming home grumpy and tired after his long trek north to see Jon. Shortly after his return, Arnor arrived at the Forge, eager to hear whether he had secured Jon’s support. When Arnor came in, Halfdan was sitting by the fire in the living room, eating a late supper, and still wearing his muddy travelling clothes. Taking in his brother’s straggly, unwashed hair and the bags under his eyes, Arnor remarked, ‘You had a hard journey.’

‘The roads were bad,’ grunted Halfdan in reply.

‘Well, what news?’ Arnor demanded, plonking himself down on the bench opposite.

Halfdan emptied his cup, set it down, and wiped his mouth. He said, without much enthusiasm, ‘Jon’s agreed to represent us at the spring assembly, provided that we can establish proof of Eric’s guilt. Once we’ve got evidence, we can serve a summons on Eric for theft.’

Arnor clapped his hands together. ‘Excellent! So he thinks we stand a chance?’

Halfdan made a weary grimace and speared a piece of fish on the end of his knife. ‘He said it’ll be a difficult case to prosecute, because Eric has powerful family connections and it’ll be hard to find any witnesses prepared to testify against him. But if we can get definite proof that the stolen goods are in Eric’s possession, he’s confident that the assembly will rule in our favour. Not only should my property be returned to me but we should both be entitled to compensation.’

‘This sounds very promising!’ said Arnor excitedly. ‘If we can get a conviction, it’ll teach Eric not to be so pushy in future. A skilfully handled prosecution would set him back and might even destroy him altogether! If Eric is discredited … well, I may not be a chieftain now, but who knows what might happen?’

‘Hold on a moment,’ Halfdan interrupted. ‘If we win the case, it’ll be up to us to enforce the court’s decision. We’ll have to go in there and recover the stuff ourselves. And we’ll need plenty of armed support because I can’t see Eric giving up the goods without a fight.’ He gave his brother a puzzled look. ‘I thought you weren’t too keen on violence.’

‘That was when we were in no position to do him any harm. I’d have felt happier about going in there if we’d had the full authority of the law behind us.’

Halfdan pushed his plate away and stared gloomily into the fire.

‘Well, I’m not going to prosecute Eric,’ he said in a low, flat voice.

‘What? Why not?’

‘Because the law is nothing without the threat of force to back it up. You don’t command an armed following, and my own men are too few to stand a chance of success against him.’

‘Oh, I don’t know,’ said Arnor mildly. ‘Between us we should be able to muster a reasonable number of men.’

‘Even with a reasonable number of men, we’re not strong enough to carry out the sentence on our own. We might get the goods back, but what about the long term? You’ll have made a dangerous enemy. If you stay on your farm, you’ll risk losing everything unless you can secure the protection of a man as powerful as Eric. You’ll need to transfer your allegiance to another chieftain, one who lives further away. And you know what that means.’

‘If he doesn’t live close at hand, it won’t be easy to call on him for help when Eric turns nasty,’ murmured Arnor.

‘Exactly. And once a rival chieftain becomes involved, the situation will turn vastly more complicated. I know you’re an ambitious man, Arnor, and perhaps looking to become a chieftain yourself, but how far are you prepared to go at this stage?’

Arnor was silent, thinking. ‘But Halfdan, surely you’re not prepared to overlook your losses?’

‘Of course not. Don’t worry, I’ll fix Eric. But I’d prefer to keep this a simple affair. Why should I get involved in costly and protracted legal wrangling when it’s perfectly obvious to me that the stuff is hidden somewhere on his farm?’ Halfdan sighed irritably. ‘I’ve haven’t come here to wage war against Slaphead Eric in any case. I’ve got more important things to worry about.’

‘But you will do something …’

‘Oh, yes. I have a plan to recover the goods myself, and as soon as I’m ready, I shall carry it out.’

Helgi had thrilled to hear this. But Halfdan had taken no action so far, though he spent a good deal of time sitting and brooding over the wrongs done to him.

‘If I were him,’ said Helgi to Kol, ‘I wouldn’t sit around doing nothing. I’d go over there and whack ‘em.’ He mentally blasted Eric and his sons into oblivion. He was the god of thunder and he could shoot lightning bolts from his finger. Bang, bang, bang, bang—all gone. Nothing left but four big smoking holes in the ground.

Chapter 3