The days were much shorter and the nights still lengthening, but the early part of November had been exceptionally fine. Arnor and his family had been invited by Eric’s brother-in-law, the chieftain in Thorsnes, to attend the midwinter celebrations that he held for his followers every year, and they decided to make the journey before the bad weather set in. When the time came, they loaded their horses with valuable gifts and put on their most splendid finery. Hedin wore a silk tunic and a fur-lined cloak. An ornamented sword-hilt bound with silver wire glittered at his waist and he carried a spear inlaid with gold which Gold-Harald had given him. He wanted to cut a dashing figure because he planned to propose to Solveig while they were at the feast, and because Halfdan had asked him to circulate among the guests and interview any likely looking candidates for a war expedition.
A quiet descended on the district after they had gone. Those who had remained at home began to feel the depressive effects of the dark winter months and look forward to the solstice, which brought a good three days of feasting, with large fires, bright illuminations, games and singing and dancing, to cheer everyone up at the darkest time of the year. Stormy winds swept across the headland, driving sleet and hail before them, and men seldom ventured far beyond the outbuildings in which their sheep and horses were stalled. The lowlands and valleys were too boggy to ride through safely, and the high ground thickly covered in snow. But preparations for the expedition continued. They were set to leave in the early spring, if the foul weather had eased by then.
Every day, Audun, Jorund, and Helgi spent the few hours of daylight caulking the leaks in the ship’s hull and coating the timbers with water-resistant tar. The gaps between the overlapping planks had to be plugged with loosely woven cords of wool and animal hair, dipped in hot sticky pitch which was made from the sap of roasted tree roots. It was a filthy job, but Audun threw himself into it with enthusiasm because, messy though it was, the work served a higher, noble purpose. By the time they had finished the recaulking, Audun thought he knew every inch of the Swan and felt a real affection for her.
He knew all about Hedin’s marriage proposal, for Arnor had talked about little else for several weeks. Solveig had gone back to her father’s house almost straight after the games and Audun wondered what her family home was like. He pictured an opulent dwelling on the coast, with a large, richly furnished banqueting hall, hung with shields and tapestries. He imagined Solveig moving along the benches in a silvery haze, filling each warrior’s cup with ale or fine red wine, and then taking her place beside her father, who would be presiding over the midwinter feast from his high seat. It tortured him to think of Hedin moving in the same elevated sphere as her, laughing and joking with her friends, ingratiating himself with her relatives, spending as much time as he wanted in her company, and forcing her to listen to his execrable poetry.
Audun thought it all too likely that a match would be arranged between the two families. He had no idea whether Solveig would resist the pressure to marry, or comply with everyone’s wishes like a dutiful child. He realized that he barely knew her. It troubled him that his happiness depended on her so much.
He tried not to let these gloomy thoughts depress him. Jorund and Helgi’s company kept him cheerful during the long, freezing hours spent in the open-ended boathouse in squally weather.
Audun had never been abroad before, and plied them with questions about what the country was like, what to expect on a long voyage, and what it was like to serve under Halfdan’s command. Most of all, he wanted to know what it was like to fight in a real battle. He wondered whether he could do it, or whether he would be scared stiff and make some stupid or fatal mistake. He enjoyed hearing about Jorund’s exploits in the east, even though he had nothing comparable to boast about. Before long they were firm friends.
When they took a break from tarring, he and Jorund practised the skills required in close combat—duelling with heavy sticks in place of swords. They were not quite evenly matched in strength, and when it came to technique Jorund beat him every time. He was able to demonstrate various ways to block a sword thrust, and explain how to locate a weak point in a shield wall. Though Audun had no experience of warfare, he was quick to master the new skills Jorund taught him. He had, like most men, play-fought with his friends from an early age, and was used to handling axes and knives in his daily work.
They took advantage of Halfdan’s absence to leap around the decks when duelling, as if they had boarded an enemy ship. One morning, when they were engaged in a particularly vigorous bout, Audun managed to knock the stick right out of Jorund’s hands. As the stick sailed through the air and landed in the cargo hold, a chorus of cheers and whistles made them turn their heads. Sam and Kormak were lounging against the boathouse wall, watching them.
Jorund jumped down into the hold to retrieve his stick. Audun stood with his hands on his hips, recovering his breath.
‘Not a bad little ship,’ Kormak nodded, casting his eyes approvingly over the Swan.
‘So it’s true, what people are saying,’ said Sam.
Audun wiped his brow and took a swig from his water flask. ‘What’s that?’ he asked.
‘That you’ve volunteered for Halfdan’s crackpot campaign. You’re going back with those crazy Easterners, to take on the king.’
‘I heard that!’ came Jorund’s indignant voice from inside the hold.
Audun laughed, surprised and gratified to discover that he was the subject of local gossip. ‘It’s true. You up for it?’
‘You must be joking!’ Sam and Kormak chuckled in disbelief.
‘I thought you stickball players liked a good scrap.’
Sam and Kormak grinned at one another and shook their heads.
‘Won’t be the same without you on the team,’ said Audun, looking disappointed.
Jorund poked his head out of the hold and tossed Audun the stick. Audun caught it, then holding the sternpost, reached down over the side and offered it to Sam. ‘Wanna fight?’
This was an invitation Sam was unable to resist. He glanced quickly at his brother, then took the stick. He climbed aboard and they squared up. Gripping his stick in both hands, Sam swung a hard blow at Audun, but Audun blocked it and forced Sam back before their weapons disengaged. He followed up with an overhead stroke but Sam parried it easily and threw him off. Sam grinned at him. Then he went on the offensive, raining a series of lightning slashes at Audun, which drove him back though he managed to deflect every blow. They worked their way forward up the port side of the ship, Audun having to give ground as Sam advanced confidently, until they came to the edge of the cargo hold, their sticks locked together as Audun held off Sam’s last stroke. For a moment they teetered on the brink, and then Audun pushed Sam hard and sent him staggering back. Laughing, Audun jumped nimbly into the hold and out of the other side; Sam recovered his footing and then ran at the hold, took a flying leap, landed on a crossbeam several feet short of the foredeck, and leapt again. He took a wild swipe at Audun, but Audun sidestepped, so the stroke missed and Sam was caught off balance. Audun raised his weapon, aiming for Sam’s left shoulder, but then he heard a loud crack. Sam’s stick had smacked hard against the gunwale, splintering the timber. Audun cursed and ran over to inspect the damage.
‘You flaming idiot, Sam! You’d better help me patch this up or Halfdan’ll kill us.’
‘Sorry,’ Sam smirked. ‘Be thankful it was only the ship and not you.’
By this time Kormak had climbed on board too and was looking around with interest.
‘I hate to say this, Sam, but you’re not bad,’ said Jorund. ‘He’s not bad, is he, Audun?’
‘Not bad at all,’ Audun conceded, leaning on his stick. ‘You’ve got to come with us now, Sam. You too, Kormak. It’ll be a laugh with them on board, won’t it, Jorund?’
Jorund grinned at him. ‘Bound to be. Hedin won’t like it at all.’
Audun was delighted with the idea of annoying Hedin. ‘Go on!’ he wheedled. ‘We’ll get Alf to join up too. Expeditions come and go, but there may never be another chance to go with your best mates.’
Sam and Kormak looked at one another doubtfully.
‘There’s no point arguing with them, Audun,’ said Jorund. ‘They don’t look too keen. Of course, when you come back a hero, they’ll regret not having gone. You’ll have made a name for yourself—you’ll be decorated with honours and loaded up with booty—and they’ll be just the same as they ever were.’
‘I know Sam and Kormak too well to question their courage,’ Audun replied mildly. ‘But sitting on your backside at home doesn’t impress anyone. That’s why I’ve decided to go. Anyway, I’ve got nothing to lose,’ he added, with a careless shrug.
‘You should be proud of yourself, Audun. It’s a real test of a man’s courage, going off to fight in a foreign country,’ Jorund declared. ‘And what’s more, fighting for a cause—for liberty and independence and the rule of law and …’—he paused, searching for words that would convey the strength of his feelings—‘and everything that we stand for in the north! I can’t wait to get my hands on that treacherous bastard Grjotgard and pay him back for trying to burn us in our beds.’
‘I haven’t given much thought to the cause, I’m afraid,’ Audun said. ‘It’s not that I don’t believe in liberty and the rule of law. But going to war … Well, I couldn’t fight without a good strong personal reason.’
‘A certain young lady …,’ smiled Jorund.
‘Not just that!’ said Audun. ‘You’re my friend and so is Helgi. I want to help you out.’
‘Well, we really appreciate it,’ said Jorund. ‘Makes all the difference, fighting alongside men you can trust.’
Audun leant against the mast and looked through the open end of the boathouse and out to sea. ‘I just want to live. You know, experience the world a bit. When I think of going abroad—the adventure and the wonderful sights we’re going to see …’ he said, with gleaming eyes.
‘Glory, fame, vast amounts of loot, souvenirs, adulation, gorgeous women throwing themselves at us if we’re lucky …’ Jorund enthused, checking them off on his fingers.
‘I wouldn’t miss it for the world.’
‘You’d have to be mad to stay behind!’
Kormak opened his mouth to argue and then thought the better of it.
‘Yeah, well,’ Sam mumbled, ‘better fix the gunnel then.’
Sam insisted on doing all the work himself, and took his time cutting a piece that was exactly the right shape, rivetting it in place, and planing it smooth. Kormak fetched him the tools he needed, while the others got on with tarring the hull.
‘Beautiful job,’ said Audun, when Sam called him over to inspect the finish. ‘He’ll never know the difference.’
Sam looked pleased. ‘Well, we’ll be off now,’ he said cheerfully.
‘Let us know if you change your minds about coming,’ said Audun, smiling at him.
‘We’ll think about it,’ said Sam, and the brothers left the ship.
A week later, Halfdan and Grimnir returned from Reykjavik, in time for the midwinter sacrifice. They had purchased a lot of equipment—spare parts, ropes, and weapons—and struck some excellent deals. Grimnir had proved ‘very persuasive’ when it came to negotiating a bargain.
Halfdan was delighted by the progress that had been made on the ship. He put Jorund in charge of repairing the sails and ropes and gave Audun the responsibility of organizing provisions and supplies. Halfdan explained to him the importance of carrying stores and tools for dealing with damage to the ship that might arise in the course of the voyage. ‘Sometimes a repair can’t wait till we arrive in harbour. We’ll need to keep on board two or three hundred ells of greased woollen cloth, for mending or replacing the sail, some needles, and plenty of thread and cord. Also, a supply of nails, both spikes and rivets, that will fit the ship. Check that we’ve got a spare spar, a spare rudder, and rudder strap, a set of cleats, ropes, boat hooks, and shipwrights’ tools—axes, augurs, and so on. Then we’ll need weapons, armour, a good stock of cold-weather clothing, camping gear, barrels of drinking water, food rations, basic dressings for wounds, and bales of homespun for trading.’ Having to procure all these items was a daunting task, but one that suited Audun who was used to planning ahead on the farm.
Work was put aside for the Yule festivities, but even on midwinter night, when the whole household gathered together eat the sacrificial horse meat and drink the ceremonial ale, Halfdan and Jorund spent much of the time discussing the voyage. Audun listened as they weighed up the advantages of different routes and their respective hazards, and possible dates of departure. He had little knowledge of navigation but compensated with eagerness to learn.
‘The plan is to sneak past the king’s forces posing as a party of merchants from Iceland carrying cargo and assorted passengers,’ Halfdan told them. ‘We’ll hide most of the weapons and armour in barrels among the cargo. As far as they’re concerned, we’ll be just an ordinary trading vessel.’ Halfdan was optimistic that the operation could commence in the early spring, weather permitting.
Hedin and Arnor rode home two weeks later. They had a difficult journey, wading through mud and slush, battered by high winds and almost horizontal rain and snow, but once they had rested and eaten, Arnor went over to the Forge to tell Halfdan the outcome of the marriage negotiations.
As soon as he saw Arnor return to the Manor, Audun headed straight over to the Forge and asked to see Embla. When Embla saw him standing on the doorstep, pale and anxious, she knew at once why he had come. She led him to the bench in the darkest corner of the living room where they could talk without being overheard.
‘It’s good and bad news, I’m afraid,’ she said. ‘Hedin turned on the charm and lavished expensive presents on the whole household. He gave Solveig a beautiful silver torque to wear round her neck. So when Arnor got round to making the proposal, Solveig’s parents were all in favour of the match.’
‘That’s terrible news!’ Audun cried. His exclamation carried right across the room, startling Gerda, who looked up from the sailcloth she was weaving. Audun dropped his voice to a whisper. ‘I can’t see any good in it at all! Did they get Solveig’s consent?’
‘That’s the good bit! Solveig said she didn’t like the idea of being betrothed to a man who had already made up his mind to go abroad. Her father took this up and said that if Hedin was going off to complete his military training at Jomsborg, he couldn’t be serious about settling down and he didn’t want his daughter to marry someone so undecided. So Arnor kept raising his bid. Eventually he offered Solveig’s father such a staggeringly huge amount of money that he had to agree. She will be promised to Hedin, but not formally betrothed to him for another three years, when he finishes his training.’
They were as good as married already, thought Audun. Well, he had known this would happen. It was only to be expected.
‘She didn’t have much say in the matter then,’ he said bitterly. ‘Or even put up much of a fight by the sound of it.’
‘No, Audun, that’s where you’re wrong!’ Embla told him excitedly. ‘Solveig said she wouldn’t consider marriage to anyone inferior to her father in rank and authority.’
‘You mean a chieftain?’
‘Yes! She’s turned Hedin down because he isn’t a chieftain! What a masterstroke! Her father could hardly object to that, could he?’
‘I dunno,’ said Audun doubtfully. The bargaining process was an utter mystery to him. ‘What happened next?’
‘Well, the arrangement still stands, but the marriage won’t go ahead unless Arnor can secure a chieftaincy for Hedin.’
What were the chances of Hedin getting a chieftaincy in three years’ time? Miniscule perhaps, but considerably better than his own.
‘If she’s set her heart on marrying a chieftain, I don’t stand a hope,’ he muttered.
‘I think you’re being very unfair to her!’ said Embla, indignant on her friend’s behalf. ‘She’s done everything she can to put obstacles in Hedin’s way, short of turning him down flat and arousing her parents’ suspicion. She’s all but refused a very good match, for your sake. She’s giving you time—a chance to make something of yourself.’
Make something of himself? A chieftain? If he came back a wealthy man, would that be enough to satisfy her? What did she expect?
Audun wondered whether she was prepared to make a compromise. Did she love him enough to elope with him if they couldn’t get her parents’ consent? Perhaps she would agree, if he was wealthy enough—but it would mean a three-year sentence of outlawry for him. Was he prepared to make an enemy of Hedin and Arnor and Solveig’s parents if necessary, as well as her uncle and cousins? How far would he go?
Audun didn’t know what to make of it. He stared dismally at the floor, unable to fight down the tumultuous doubts that now assailed him. Why on earth had he talked himself into going on this expedition? He was risking everything he had—and for what? What would he be coming back to—if he came back at all? Far worse than the fear of death or wounding was his fear that it would all be for nothing.
‘Cheer up, Audun,’ said Embla, smiling at him. ‘Don’t give up hope! Anything could happen in three years! Go on this glorious expedition of Halfdan’s. You’ll be taking a gamble, but Solveig will love you for it, because she knows you’re only doing it for her. Think of the happiness you’ll have if you succeed.’
Audun shot her a sullen glance and said nothing. Whatever happened, he was committed to the expedition now: there was no question of backing out. In a way, he was glad he was going. Solveig was the only girl he had ever loved and now she would never be his. Maybe he should just try to forget her.
Maybe all great loves had to end this way—in sorrow. Maybe he would perish on some foreign shore. News of his death would eventually reach Solveig, who would marry Hedin but secretly mourn him for the rest of her life …
Audun sat there for a while, mourning his loss, and Embla sat with him and remained respectfully silent, even though he seemed to have forgotten her existence. Eventually he rose and Embla went with him to the door. He lingered on the doorstep, with a profoundly sad and thoughtful expression on his face, seemingly unaware of where he was and what he was doing.
‘Are you all right?’ Embla asked, looking at him with concern.
Audun came to himself for a moment and heaved a deep sigh. ‘Yes … yes. Thanks for telling me straight.’
He turned away and wandered absently across the yard. Embla watched him go; he obviously needed to be alone for a while.
Later that day she found him sitting by himself in the dark in Arnor’s hay barn. Audun got up hurriedly when he heard a creak and saw the door swing open. He was about to pretend to be busy, but when he saw it was only Embla, he relaxed and sank down again. He did not have to dissemble in front of her. Embla entered the shed shyly and sat down beside him on the same bale of straw. She said nothing but occasionally stole a sad and anxious glance at him.
The door, which she had left half-open, let a broad bar of subdued daylight into the barn.
Audun fiddled with his clasp knife, folding and unfolding it. Ever since Embla had acted as a go-between for him and Solveig at the games, he had confided in her when he felt the need, and always found her a sympathetic listener. But right now he wasn’t in the mood to talk. He didn’t have the heart to tell her to go away, for she had been a good friend to him in his troubles, but he would rather have been left alone.
Embla was saying something. He raised his head and looked silently at her, his soft green eyes full of melancholy.
‘Poor you,’ she whispered in a voice full of compassion. ‘I feel so powerless to help. You love her very much, don’t you?’
Audun nodded. With all his heart. More than he could say.
‘Are you still going off to war?’
He nodded again. How could he not go? It was the slimmest of hopes, but if it brought him closer to the woman he adored …
Embla smiled at him with relief. ‘I knew you wouldn’t give up hope. I know I’d still want to go, if I were you.’ She transferred her gaze to the floor and gave a little, self-conscious laugh. ‘It’s funny,’ she said, ‘but I rather envy you and your friends going off on your great adventure. I’ve never been abroad before. I keep wondering what it would be like.’
Audun threw her a curious glance. A little girl on a raiding expedition! Whoever heard of such a thing? He was surprised that Embla could entertain such a strange ambition. But then Embla was the sort of person who would argue that she had ‘every right’ to come on a war expedition, even though she didn’t know the first thing about it.
‘Girls your age don’t go raiding, Embla,’ he said in a flat, weary voice. Much as he liked Embla, she had some funny ideas. This particular idea had to be discouraged. He didn’t feel like getting drawn into a silly argument with her, and he had an uneasy feeling that she was working up to ask him to petition Halfdan for a place for her on his ship.
Embla turned pink in the face. ‘A woman can stand up to the rigours of a long sea voyage as well as any man!’
‘Maybe, but you can’t fight, Embla.’
‘I could be useful in other ways.’
‘What as? Team supporter and physician?’ Audun had meant to be sarcastic, but because he wasn’t in a joking mood the words came out sounding more serious than he’d intended.
‘Now, that’s not a bad idea!’ said Embla, as though it had never occurred to her before. ‘It would make sense to have a physician on board. Someone who can treat accidental injuries, battle wounds, seasickness …’
‘Now wait a moment …’
‘But I won’t be joining the voyage,’ Embla interrupted. ‘It’s a pity, because, as you say, I could’ve been quite useful, but it can’t be helped. I’ve got other commitments.’
Audun frowned. ‘What commitments?’
‘I’m going with Helgi,’ she replied coolly.
‘Oh!’ Audun looked a little worried. ‘Are you sure that’s wise? I mean, will you be safe?’
Embla smiled at him. ‘I don’t like to think of him going off on his own with Grimnir.’
‘They’ll be fine, Embla. They can look after themselves.’ As he looked at her, he saw an almost imperceptible shadow flicker across her face. ‘What is it?’
‘Nothing.’
‘He’s not in trouble again, is he?’
Embla drew a golden strand of hay from the bale on which they sat, and twisted it absently around her finger. She gazed down at her hands and did not reply.
‘You’re afraid they might run into the Ericssons, aren’t you?’ Audun sighed crossly. ‘I thought all that had died down over the winter, but if it hasn’t—if you have good reason to think they’re still out to get him—you shouldn’t get involved. There may be killings and you could get hurt. Anyway, what could you do against the Ericssons?’
‘I’ll stay out of the way if there’s any fighting. Helgi will want to take them on alone and I’ll gladly be there when he puts them to flight,’ replied Embla. A fierce light kindled in her eyes.
‘Helgi’s already got a chaperone,’ said Audun. ‘He doesn’t need you; Grimnir will look after him perfectly well.’
Embla gave him a narrow, sceptical look.
‘If you’ve got any sense, you’ll stay well away from him,’ Audun warned her. ‘Helgi’s the sort who rushes into things and gives no thought to his own safety or anyone else’s.’
‘That’s precisely why he needs me.’
‘Embla, you can’t shield a man of his temperament without exposing yourself to danger.’
‘Even so, I want to go with him. I’ve made up my mind.’
‘And nothing I can say will put you off, I suppose,’ said Audun, with a disgruntled curl of his lip.
Embla, recognizing her own words, smiled at him and shook her head.
‘Because you can’t bear to be parted from him. You’d follow him anywhere.’ Audun suddenly felt like sneering at her.
‘Follow him? Far from it! He’s the one who needs guidance. I’m going with him to stop him doing anything stupid.’
‘I thought that was Grimnir’s job.’
‘It is, but I think Helgi will be glad of my company.’
‘You indulge him far too much,’ said Audun in disgust.
For some reason, he felt wildly irritated with her, and angry with himself for being angry. He wasn’t sure what annoyed him more: her blind devotion to Helgi or the fact that she wouldn’t listen to his advice. He couldn’t help feeling concerned for her safety: she was the same age as his oldest little sister at home. But he wasn’t going to waste his time arguing with her if nothing he said was going to make the slightest bit of difference. If she was determined to make a fool of herself over Helgi, then let her.
He stood up and walked swiftly to the door. He was prickling all over with repressed irritation. Coming in here and bothering him with all this nonsense when all he wanted was to be left alone …
‘Audun!’ Embla jumped up and ran after him and touched his arm. ‘Don’t be angry with me.’
‘I’m not.’
‘What’s the matter then?’
‘Look, Embla, you’ve made a brave choice going with Helgi, but I don’t think any good will come of it. Any dealings you have with him are bound to cost you dear. Trouble seems to follow him around. My guess is that he doesn’t have long to live.’
‘Audun, that’s a horrible thing to say!’
Maybe it was, thought Audun, but he wasn’t going to apologise.
‘I’m telling you this for your own good, Embla, not because I wish him ill. I don’t want to get into an argument with you about it. What you decide to do is your business. But frankly, you’d be better off coming with us than going with him.’
‘Coming with you!’ Embla’s eyes suddenly shone. ‘You know I’d love to come on the expedition’—and here her face fell again—‘but I can’t let Helgi down.’
‘No, that wasn’t what I meant …’
‘But there might be a way … Perhaps I could do both! I’d have to get my grandfather’s permission, of course.’ She considered for a moment. ‘Here’s what I’ll do. I’ll go home, talk to Jon, then come to Norway with Helgi and Grimnir and meet up with the rest of you there.’
Audun growled at her in exasperation.
‘That’s what I’ll do then,’ she said as if the matter was decided. ‘Oh, Audun, I knew you wouldn’t mind! Thank you!’ She clutched at his arm, almost dancing in her excitement.
‘Embla, it’s not up to me who comes …’
‘I know, but once I’m there, Halfdan won’t find it easy to send me away. Only, promise not to tell! I have to talk to my grandfather first. Promise me, Audun.’
She hung on his arm, gazing up at him imploringly. ‘Please!’
‘Oh … all right,’ Audun said grudgingly. He might as well humour her. Her grandfather probably wouldn’t let her go anyway.
Her eager face broke into a smile of relief and delight. ‘Oh, thank you, thank you, Audun! You’re so kind and noble and good!’ She stood on tiptoe and planted a swift kiss on his cheek. Then the barn door banged and she was gone.
Audun touched his cheek and gazed after her in bewilderment.
The Adventures of Helgi the Viking 