length. Many, too, carried axes.
“Benches!” laughed Ivar Forkbeard. “Sail!”
In my opinion he had waited too long.
His men leaped to their benches and seized their oars. At the same time the sail, with its red and white stripes, in itS full length, fell snapping from the yard.
“Stroke!” called Ivar. A javelin hissed past him.
The wind, like a hammer, took the sail. The oars bit the water. The prow of the serpent of Ivar Forkbeard leaped from the water and its stern went almost awash.
“Stroke!” called the Forkbeard.
I laughed with pleasure. The serpent of Ivar Forkbeard leaped toward the line of the horizon.
There was consternation on the deck of Black Sleen. I could see Thorgard of Scagnar, in the horned helmet, bearded, crying orders.
The prow of Black Sleen, sluggishly, I thought, turned our wake. I saw men rushing to their benches. I saw the long oars lift, and then fall.
A javelin, and four more arrows struck the deck of Ivar’s ship. Two of the arrows struck the plate of the temple of Kassau, and hung, broken, in the boskhide awning that covered the Forkbeard’s loot, both that of gold and flesh, and then anotherjavelin fell behind us, into the sea, and the bowmen returned to their benches.
For a quarter of an Ahn the Forkbeard himself held the helm of his ship.
But after a quarter of an Ahn, grinning, the Forkbeard surrendered the helm to one of his men, and came to join me amidships.
We placed the board again between us on the chest. The position of the pieces had not changed, held by the board’s pegs.
“A most interesting variation,” said Forkbeard, returning his attention to the board.
“It may meet theJarl’s Ax’s gambit,” I said.
“I think not,” said Forkbeard, “but let us see.”
After another quarter of an Ahn Forkbeard bade his men rest at their oars.
Far behind us Black Sleen, reputed to be the fastest ship in the north, struggled, under oars and sail, to match our pace. She could not do so. Under sail alone the serpent of — Ivar Forkbeard, almost scornfully, sped from her. Soon she had become no more than a speck astern, and was then visible only to the lookout. The awning was drawn back, and rolled, and placed to one side. The bond-maids, their bodies sweaty, broken out from rash and heat, struggled to their knees, their heads back, and drank the fresh air. The litter of gold under which they had been forced to lie was kicked to one side. Gorm then unbound their fair ankles, and, taking their wrists from behind them, once more fettered thenbefore their bodies, at their bellies. Shortly thereafter the were fed, certain of them preparing the food. Life returned to normal aboard the ship. Soon Black Sleen was visible no even to the lookout.
It was growing toward evening.
“Take course,” said Ivar Forkbeard, to his helmsman, “fo the skerry of Einar.”
“Yes, Captain,” said the helmsman.
Aelgifu laughed with joy.
It was there, at the rune-stone of the Torvaldsmark, that Ivar Forkbeard would receive her ransom.
I discovered, to my instruction, an Ahn later, that Singer to Ax two, followed by Jari to Ax four, is insufflcient to counter the Jarl’s Ax’s gambit, as it is played in the north.
“I did not think it would be,” said Ivar Forkbeard.
“The name of the ship of Thorgard of Scagnar,” I said, “is Black Sleen. What is the name of your ship, if I may know?”
“The name of my ship,” said Ivar, “is the Hilda.”
“Is it not unusual for a ship of the north to bear the name of a woman?” I asked.
“No,” he said.
“Why is she called the Hilda?” I asked.
“That is the name of the daughter of Thorgard of Scagnar,” said Ivar Forkbeard.
I looked up at him, astonished.
“The Hilda is my ship,” said Ivar Forkbeard, “and the daughter of Thorgard of Scagnar will be my bond-maid.”
We lay to, without lights, a pasang from the skerry of Einar.
The wrists of the bond-maids were fettered behind their backs; their ankles were tied; they wore the coffle rope of the north; and their mouths, with waddings of sleen fur, and strappings of leather, were tightly gagged.
There was silence on the ship of Ivar Forkbeard. Ivar, and four men, had taken the longboat, which is tied, keel up, on the decking of the after quarter, and made their way to the skerry. With them, her hair combed, warmed with a broth of dried bosk meat, heated in a copper kettle, over a fire on a rimmed iron plate, legged, set on another plate on the stern quarter, her hands tied behind her with simple binding fiber, had gone Aelgifu.
Gorm, who seemed second to Ivar, and I, stood at the railing near the prow on the port side of the serpent.
I could see, against the night sky, the darker shape, but low in the water, of the skerry. Too, against the sky, I could see the tall rune-stone, looking like a needle against the stars, which forms the Torvaldsmark.
Ivar had left the ship in good humor. “I shall return with Aelgifu’s ransom money,” he had told us.
With him, in the longboat, in a round, bronze can, with twist lid, he had taken his scales, collapsible, of bronze and chain, with their weights. I knew that Gurt of Kassau, too, would bring his scales. I hoped that the weights matched, for if they did not, there would be trouble indeed. Gurt, I knew, if wise, would not attempt to cheat the Forkbeard. I had less confidence in the weights of the man of Torvaldsland.
“Have you a coin you wish to check?” had asked Ivar, seriously, of me.
“All right,” I had said, sensing his amusement. I had drawn forth from my pouch a golden tarn. He had placed it on the scale.
“Unfortunately,” said he, “this coin is debased. It is only three-quarters weight.”
“It bears the stamp,” said I, “of the mints of Ar.”
“I would have thought better of the mints of Ar,” said he.
“If Ar were to produce debased coins,” I said, “her trade would be reduced, if not ruined.”
“Have you another coin?” he asked.
I put a silver Tarsk, of Tharna, on the scale.
He changed his weight.
“Debased,” said he. “It is only three-quarters weight.”
“Tharna, too,” I said, “is apparently tampering with her colnage.”
“The worst,” said Ivar Forkbeard, “is likely to be the coinage of Lydius.”
“I expect so,” I said.
I smiled. The ransom money of Gurt of Kassau would, doubtless, be largely composed of the stamped coin of Lydi us. The only mint at which gold coins were stamped within a thousand pasangs was in Lydius, at the mouth of the Laurius. Certain jarls, of course, in a sense, coined money, marking bars of iron or gold, usually small rectangular solids, with their mark. Ring money was also used, but seldom stamped with a jarl’s mark. Each ring, strung on a larger ring, would be individually weighed in scales. Many transactions are also done with fragments of gold and silver, often broken from larger objects, such as cups or plates, and these must be individually weighed. Indeed, the men of the north think little of breaking apart objects which, in the south, would be highly prized for their artistic value, simply to obtain pieces of negotiable precious metal. The fine candlesticks from the temple of Kassau, for example, I expected would be chopped into bits small enough for the pans of the northern scales. Of their own art and metalwork, however, it should be mentioned that the men of the north are much more respectful. A lovely brooch, for example, wrought by a northern craftsman, would be seldom broken or mutilated.
“I have two pair of scales,” admitted Ivar Forkbeard, grinning. “These are my trading scales,” he said.
“Do you think Gurt of Kassau will accept your scales?” I asked.
The Forkbeard fingered the silver chain of office, looped about his neck, which he had taken from the administrator of Kassau. “Yes,” he said, “I think so.”
We laughed together.
But now, with Gorm, and the men of Ivar Forkbeard, I waited, in silence, on his serpent.
“Should the Forkbeard not have returned by now?” I asked.
“He is coming now,” said Gorm.
I peered through the darkness. Some hundred yards away, difficult to see, was the longboat. I heard the oars, in good rhythm, lifting and dipping. The oar stroke’s spacing was such that I knew them not in flight.
Then I saw the Forkbeard at the tiller. The longboat scraped gently at the side of the serpent.
“Did you obtain the ransom money?” I asked.
“Yes,” said he, lifting a heavy bag of gold in his hand.
“You were long,” I said.
“It took time to weigh the gold,” he said. “And there was some dispute as to the accuracy of the scales.”
“Oh?” I asked.
“Yes,” said the Forkbeard. “The weights of Gurt of Kassau were too light.”
“I see,” I said.
“Here is the gold,” he said, hurling the sack to Gorm. “One hundred and twenty pieces.”
“The scales of Gurt of Kassau, I see,” I said, “weighed lightly indeed.”
“Yes,” laughed the Forkbeard. He then threw other purses to Gorm.
“What are these?” I asked.
“The purses of those who were with Gurt of Kassau,” he said.
I heard a moan from the longboat, and saw something, under a fur of sea sleen, move.
