Although everyone had been expecting Grjotgard for weeks, it still caused a stir of excitement and alarm when his ship was sighted entering the channel—a long, lean, and predatory dragon lined with shields. They watched her glide into the inner waters, change course, and head straight towards the crowded jetty. Exclamations of sick disgust rose from the shore as the people recognized the ship, which had once belonged to Sigurd. Grjotgard had evidently been busy helping himself to his dead brother’s estate and belongings. He had now come to assure himself of Halfdan’s continued friendship.
Halfdan’s army gathered on the snow-encrusted shore and the landing stage, where the Midgard Serpent and Sturla’s little warship lay in readiness. Fishermen from the neighbouring islands had been arriving singly and in groups for the past three weeks and the company had swelled to well over a hundred. The array of grim-faced and silent warriors, with polished helmets and spear-points gleaming in the sun, made a fearsome sight. Helgi stood next to Jorund, who smiled with satisfaction when Grjotgard’s dragon stopped a little way out in the bay. ‘He daren’t approach too close. We’re a more formidable force than he was expecting,’ he whispered to Helgi.
A group of figures stood conferring in the stem of the ship. Helgi screwed up his eyes, trying to make out which one was Grjotgard. At length a man’s voice rang out clearly across the stretch of dark water.
‘Earl Grjotgard sends you greetings and requests an audience with the leader of this company.’
‘So Grjotgard’s stolen his brother’s title as well as his ship,’ growled Jorund.
‘It wouldn’t surprise me if the king had granted him the title only and taken possession of Sigurd’s ship and everything else that belonged to him,’ murmured Karl. ‘Grjotgard would do anything for that title. He’d be quite prepared to hold Sigurd’s land in fief to the king, not as his own property, and to become the king’s vassal.’
‘What’s a fief?’ asked Helgi.
‘It means Grjotgard wouldn’t enjoy the same power of government over Sigurd’s property as Sigurd once had. He would be looking after them for the king.’
‘The king would like to abolish all hereditary rights, I reckon,’ said Jorund. ‘He’ll try to use this puppet of his, Grjotgard, to extend his lands and lay claim to the whole of the north. Well, Halfdan won’t stand for that, and neither will we.’
‘Will the king try to take our home, as well as Sigurd’s?’ Helgi asked him, with a slight tremor in his voice.
‘He may try, but if he does we’ll make him regret it. He’ll have a hard fight on his hands.’
Vague pictures formed in Helgi’s mind of men wading ashore, clashing swords, slaughter on the beach—and he felt his skin turn cold with dread. The fight to keep their independence would take place on these shores—maybe this very day—and he would play a part in it. The enemy ship that lay just offshore in their home waters was the most terrifying sight he had ever seen. He knew they were confronting a far deadlier peril than Jorund cared to admit. They might have the superior force today—two ships against Grjotgard’s one—but if the robber-king were to concentrate his whole strength upon them and send a large fleet of ships, he would easily conquer the island.
Helgi had always taken their prosperity for granted, but he realized now that their position was far more precarious than he’d ever imagined. The wealth they enjoyed had been won through fierce competition and the exclusion of a rival group. If they lost control, their enemies would take they had—their fields, their forest, their river—everything that was essential to their survival, and they would die of starvation, if their lives had not already been taken. And even if they held their ground today, another rival would turn up in the future, and the struggle would continue, until … until the day came when he would be expected to organize the defence. This realization made him swallow hard. He was the future heir of Borg. It would be up to him to defend the family home and ensure it was passed on to the next generation.
The thought of that responsibility gave him an uncomfortable feeling in his stomach. He wondered what his father would do next. Would they hold battle there and then?
Resplendent in his battle gear, Halfdan took one step forward and stood before the cluster of men on the landing stage. His heavy brows were locked in a defiant scowl and his eyes glinted dangerously underneath his helmet. He roared back in a thunderous voice, ‘I am Halfdan Hjorvardsson, the chieftain of this district. Grjotgard (he almost spat the name and pointedly refused to acknowledge his claim to the title of earl) may speak to me.’
The messenger called out: ‘Noble Halfdan! Men of Borg! The earl thanks you for your gracious welcome. He now requests a truce so that he may land and disembark with his retinue, and present messages and tokens of peace and friendship from King Harald and Gunnhild, the King-Mother. Earl Grjotgard desires you to give assurances of your continued loyalty to his family and of your respect for the authority with which he has been invested.’
Halfdan’s face darkened with fury. ‘Grjotgard knows full well that my loyalty to the king has never wavered for I assured his mother of my lasting friendship when she granted me the right to administer the Finn trade, in my youth, and I have always paid out the tribute that was due to her, and more besides. But you may tell Grjotgard that I do not consider myself bound under any obligation to him. I will never stoop so low as to swear friendship with that treacherous fratricide, who unlawfully killed the true earl and usurped his place! Sigurd has a son, Hakon, and he is the earl’s rightful heir. My loyalty lies with him.’
There was a pause and then the messenger’s voice rang out again. ‘Earl Grjotgard recognizes that you have given loyal support to his family, the earls of Hladir, for many years and regrets that is no longer the case. If you refuse to acknowledge the king’s deputy, the king and king-mother will have no choice but to regard you as their enemy. I would advise you strongly to seek reconciliation with Earl Grjotgard, or else the consequences for you will be grave indeed. The king will assign a different man to collect the Finn tax and will no longer allow you to hold a position of power here in the north.’
Halfdan growled something obscene under his breath, which provoked a good deal of laughter from those standing nearby. Then in a voice heavy with sarcasm, he replied, ‘The only kind of reconciliation Grjotgard can expect is when our weapons settle matters between us on the battlefield!’ The men around him started to jeer and rattle their spears against their shields. When the noise had died down a little, Halfdan continued, ‘Messenger, tell Grjotgard that he shall pay for denying Earl Hakon his birthright and threatening me with the same. We men of Halogaland will never rest until we have brought the vengeance of the gods raining down upon his head!’ Halfdan’s last few words were almost drowned in the deafening cheers and war-cries that erupted from his supporters. There was no reply from those on board the ship. Then a harsh and furious voice which Helgi realized must belong to Grjotgard sounded across the water.
‘Hear this, Halfdan! For too long now, you have withheld tribute you have taken from the Finns, which should rightfully belong to the king. You have enriched yourself at the king’s expense. Sigurd may have condoned and even encouraged your flagrant thieving, such was his disrespect for royal authority, but I shall not be so lenient! By order of the king, I hereby revoke your right to administer the Finn trade. The king will recover the assets you have stolen from him by taking title of your estate. You have abused the law and therefore you have forfeited any right of legal ownership. You may continue to live here as the king’s tenant, if you serve him faithfully, but any signs of disobedience or revolt will be swiftly punished, with outlawry and death. Now, Halfdan, you must choose whether you would prefer peace with honour or whether you will persist in your futile and reckless rebellion, and destroy yourself and the lives of those around you.’
Everyone held their breath and waited for Halfdan’s answer. There was silence for a few heartbeats and then Halfdan’s scornful laughter echoed off the snow-covered cliffs. ‘Your accusations are false, Grjotgard, and you know it! Peace with honour? Pah! There can be no peace with honour while Harald, Gunnhild, and their agents wickedly oppress the ruling families in the north, disregard our laws, and invent trumped-up charges to excuse their tyranny! Let us settle the matter by holding battle here and now; the way is open for you to come to us and we shall let the gods decide whose cause is the more just.’
Grjotgard seemed taken aback by this challenge. He hastily replied, ‘I did not come here prepared to wage war. My intentions were purely peaceful. But if a fight is what you want, Halfdan, you can be sure we shall return.’
The oars began to move and the great ship slowly began to manoeuvre away from the island, to the accompaniment of loud boos and jeers from the men on the shore. ‘Cowards!’ Jorund yelled, shaking his spear above his head. Men were picking up stones from the beach and throwing them after the ship even though it was well out of range.
‘This land is mine!’ Halfdan raged. ‘It’s been in my family’s hands for generations! I’ve always given the king exactly what is due to him. He has no claim on my property!’
‘The king has claimed it though—and where does that leave us?’ cried someone.
‘Grjotgard shan’t get away with this! After him, after him, men—to the ships!’
There was a roar of approval from Halfdan’s followers, but suddenly Sturla seized Halfdan by the arm and started shouting at him. He seemed to be urging restraint. A fierce argument broke out between Halfdan’s supporters who wanted to man the warships and go after Grjotgard and the men from the island of Gimisto, whose homes and livelihoods had not been directly threatened. Sturla told Halfdan that he wished to be reconciled with the king. He said that his men had presented a united front when Grjotgard came, but the threat of royal punishment had cooled their ardour. Halfdan tried to talk him round but eventually Helgi saw him yield in despair. Sturla boarded his ship with his men and prepared to set sail for home at once.
Halfdan was despondent that evening because his wish to go after Grjotgard had been thwarted. ‘We shall never have another opportunity like that again,’ he muttered. ‘When he comes back, he’ll have a good many more ships. We should have taken him when we had the chance.’ Karl ventured to say that perhaps it was better this way. ‘The earl’s son might not appreciate it if someone else stepped in and took revenge on his behalf. He’ll want to deal with Grjotgard himself.’ ‘So where is he then?’ Halfdan cried. ‘If we believe the rumours, he’s either gallivanting about on some foreign shore or the king has him penned up in Trondheim. Either way, he isn’t here to help us, so we’ll just have to help ourselves. Don’t get me wrong—my loyalties lie with the true earl—but I’m not going to bow down to Grjotgard and endure his lies and insults! I will not be bullied! If we surrender our right to govern our lives and dispose of our property as we wish, then we are no better than slaves!’
A few of Halfdan’s most vociferous supporters, including Jorund, applauded and urged unflinching resistance, no matter how great the odds. But most of the men were anxious for him to end the strife and make some kind of concession, though they were undecided among themselves how far he should yield. Many of the islanders agreed with Karl that they should wait for the earl’s son to take on the king and to delay vengeance until they had a greater chance of success. Opinion was divided over whether Halfdan was making a heroic stand or, as Grjotgard had said, engaged in reckless self-destruction.
The fishermen from the neighbouring islands were particularly restive. They didn’t like the idea of another long and unprofitable wait for Grjotgard to come back when there was work to be done. It was the best season for cod fishing, when millions of fish were making their way down from the frozen north, to spawn in the warmer waters around the islands. When the fishing was good, they worked day and night, since it made all the difference to them between prosperity and hardship. They were impatient to get back to their boats. After a few days, they made their excuses and began drifting away.
Jorund hurled abuse at the fishermen who were carrying their gear down to the shore and preparing to set sail. ‘Cowards! Losers! You ought to be ashamed of yourselves, running away, you cod-guzzling, yellow-bellied sissies!’ He turned to Karl, who was watching uneasily by his side. ‘What can we do? They’re deserting in droves.’
‘We can’t blame them for wanting to get back to work. Where’s the chief? Someone’s got to rally them and stop them from leaving.’
Jorund and Karl went to look for Halfdan and found him sitting alone in the hall, slumped in his chair, silent and unmoving, with a bowed head. They stopped a few paces away and exchanged worried looks. Halfdan had been driven by a manic energy since Sigurd’s death and had barely sat down for weeks. Now it seemed as though he had been struck powerless by a mighty blow.
‘Halfdan,’ Karl called gently, ‘All the fishermen are leaving.’
Halfdan did not reply. He stared at the floor in blank dejection, as though bound by a spell.
‘This doesn’t bode well for us. Halfdan couldn’t have chosen a worse time to sink into one of his fits of melancholy,’ Karl whispered to Jorund. ‘See if you can rouse him out of his crippling despair.’
Jorund strode over to the chair and shook the unresponsive Halfdan by the shoulders. ‘Why are you letting them leave?’ he cried. ‘You can’t just let them go! They only need a little push to make them stay! They need to be told something to put courage in their wavering hearts. We can navigate these rough waters if you get out there and show them some leadership!’
Halfdan slowly raised his eyes. They were dull and vacant, like the eyes of a dead man. ‘We made a disastrous decision not to go after Grjotgard,’ he said in a heavy voice.
Jorund stared at him helplessly for a moment, and then exploded with frustration. ‘If you can’t stop them going, at least bring in some men to replace them!’ he stormed. ‘We’re going to be short on men unless you do something. You’ve got to take a firm hand, not cower in here like an old woman!’
He had hoped to make Halfdan angry, but Halfdan only looked at him strangely. ‘How can I take a hand in the course of events? A weary spirit cannot strive against fate. Nothing can be done. Gunnhild will crush us all.’
‘I don’t believe it. He was fine yesterday, and now he’s just fallen apart!’ Jorund said to his father, shaking his head in disbelief. He banged the table and yelled at Halfdan, ‘You can’t just give up! Pull yourself together, man!’
Halfdan stared at him distantly, as if from the bottom of a deep black pit.
‘No, Jorund,’ he murmured. ‘She’s here right now, in the room. Watching us. Behind you, there in the corner—look.’
He pointed a timid finger. Jorund swung round to look: he saw no one there.
‘Just there,’ Halfdan whispered. ‘Do you see her? She’s slowly destroying me … she won’t let me alone. She’s come for me now, I think. At least I hope so. I wish it were all over … Death would be a release.’
Jorund threw his father a worried glance.
‘You must bear up, Halfdan, and be strong for all our sakes!’ Karl urged, kneeling beside Halfdan’s chair. ‘You are putting all our lives at risk.’
A look of pain crossed Halfdan’s face and he closed his eyes.
* * *
Down on the shore, Helgi stood beside Gerda and watched the desertion of his father’s army of fisherman, utterly helpless to prevent it. The sails of the little fishing boats billowed as the wind carried them away from the island. Tears were rolling down Gerda’s cheeks; she wiped them away as they walked back up the rocky beach, past the wooden racks where normally large quantities of freshly caught cod would have been hung to dry. The racks were empty: a sign that everything was out of kilter.
Karl and Jorund came down to meet them.
‘Did you speak to Halfdan?’ Gerda asked her brother anxiously.
‘Yes. He isn’t well enough to take command.’ Karl’s eyes strayed across to the fleet of fishing boats crossing the bay. ‘It’s too late now anyway.’
‘He’s bewitched,’ said Jorund. ‘He keeps rambling on and on about Gunnhild. He said she was there, lurking in the corner, tormenting him, but he was the only one who could see her.’
‘What a fanciful idea!’ said Gerda, smiling down at Helgi to reassure him.
‘No, she really was there, I’m sure of it,’ said Jorund. ‘I’ve fought alongside Halfdan many times, and I’ve never known him to break down in a crisis before. I think Gunnhild’s put a spell on him.’
‘Well, I have known him to get like this before,’ said Karl thoughtfully, ‘but only when he’s at home. He never has time to brood when he’s on an expedition. You know what Halfdan’s like. He’s never happier than when he’s living on the edge, fighting, exploring, and gaining wealth.’
‘It’s true he hasn’t been himself since he lost Helgi’s mother,’ said Gerda. ‘I fear the sorrow unbalanced his mind.’
‘Well, whoever’s behind it, we’re in serious trouble,’ snapped Jorund. ‘Is there anyone here who can take command until he’s better?’
‘It’s not our place, Jorund!’ said Karl. ‘Halfdan is the only one anyone will listen to. If he’s not around to rally the men, the situation’s hopeless. Only those of us who belong to his household have any reason to stay.’
‘Isn’t there anything we can do?’ groaned Jorund.
‘We’ll just have to hope he gets better fast. Though I wish he’d been more cautious in the first place,’ said Karl gloomily. ‘Gerda, it’s only a matter of time now. You and the boy should leave at once. We’ll find a safe place where you can lodge until this is all over.’
‘No!’ said Helgi fiercely. ‘I’m staying with my father. I want to fight for the resistance.’
‘And I’m not leaving without Helgi,’ said Gerda, grasping his arm tightly. ‘Halfdan needs me now more than ever.’
‘Listen Gerda,’ said Karl, growing impatient, ‘Halfdan chose to defy the king, even though he was well aware of the consequences. Jorund and I have chosen to stay because we’ve fought beside him many times before and we’ll stand by him till the end. But your responsibility is to look after the child.’
‘There’s no need to remind me of that! I’ve cared for him ever since he was a baby.’
‘Well, if you love him, put him first! This battle will be fought too close to home. Helgi’s too young to fight and Halfdan wouldn’t want either of you to come to harm.’
‘Is it true that my father doesn’t value his own life?’ Helgi suddenly asked.
Gerda and Karl exchanged troubled looks.
‘It’s true that he isn’t afraid to risk death—in fact, he’s the most fearless man I’ve ever met,’ said Karl, frowning. ‘But he wouldn’t throw away his life, and he would never risk the lives of his friends and family unnecessarily.’
‘He loves you, Helgi,’ Gerda assured him, ‘and he has important responsibilities—to you, and the rest of his household and his men. He’ll do everything he can to protect us from our enemies.’
Helgi knew this, but it troubled him that his father was in such a dejected state. He watched Halfdan closely and often worried about whether he would abandon himself to his death if he found himself outnumbered in the coming battle.
The Adventures of Helgi the Viking 