“Where will your men come from?” Uffi asked.
“From among the Bjarmians, who dwell along the White Sea,” Thuning said. “Their tribes are poor and wild, but fearless. I’ve gotten to know them well, and can tell you that they’ll flock to me. Iron tools and weapons are worth more to them than gold, so you and I will take our share of my loot in costlier things.”
Uffi frowned. “We’ve long laid toll on Finns like those, because we have better arms and more skill in their use.”
“True. Yet I can bring more fighters against Hadding than he’ll reckon on, if you’ll lend me the ships to carry them.”
Uffi nodded. “Yes, he won’t likely hear osier than that some kind of fleet is bound his way, and think he can drive it off with his housecarles and neighborhood levies.” His frown became a scowl. “However many your followers, he may well be right, too. Man for man, his warriors will be better. And uncanny powers seem to hover about him.”
“I know,” said Thuning: “But you must have heard, lord, that the Bjarmians breed warlocks more cunning than even among other Finns. Often have I bought a bag of favoring winds from one. And I have seen greater works done yonder, fruitful or frightful. Help me as I wish, and I will set black witchcraft against his luck. It will overwhelm him.”
XXIII
The next spring a flock of ships passed through the Sound and out into the Kattegat. No man aboard answered any Dane who rowed close enough to give.
War hail, but it was clear that the crews were Swedes. However, they did nothing hostile, not even camping ashore at night. Nor had they more than a few warcraft. Most of their vessels were knorrs and other kinds of freighters, lightly manned. Eirik Jarl dogged them from afar till he saw them head in for King Uffi’s Norse lands. Later Hadding got word that after resting for a while the sailors had set forth again, south around Agder and north along the coast.
He sent a swift ship to warn King Haakon. She brought back the news that the fleet had gone by the Niderings. Haakon had not learned what its errand might be, yonder where folk were first few and poor, then wild Finns. He would send out spies and scouts for whatever they could turn up.
Late in summer a messenger craft, ruthlessly rowed, came from him to Denmark. His searchers had found that a Norse chieftain by the name of Thuning, somewhat known to him, had gathered a host of Bjarmians and was bringing them back down from the White Sea. Since only a king was able to get together so many keels, belike they meant to fall on Denmark.
By the time Haakon’s men got to where the Dane-king was, little remained for marshalling warriors. Moreover, he could not lawfully call a levy now at harvest. He could only have the war-arrow carried from house to house as widely as might be, at horse-killing speed, asking for freely given help. Meanwhile he brought ships to Haven and stocked them for sea.
Even so, it was a goodly troop that fared north astern of Fired rake. Two score hulls were filled with fighters. All were well outfitted and hardened to battle. “I could almost feel sorry for the foe,” bragged Gunnar.
“They’ll outnumber us,” Hadding said.
“What of it? Woodsrunners and spearfishers. Maybe we’ll each have to cut down two.”
“Thuning is no fool, from what I’ve heard of him. He knows those folk. There go dark tales about them.” Hadding shook his head as if to throw off the thoughts perched on it. “Enough. We’ve sailing to do.”
Helped by fair weather and a full moon, the ships made a fast crossing to Norway. Thereafter Hadding took a day on an island at Boknafjord and another day off Hordaland, that men might stretch cramped limbs and have a sound sleep. In between, they rowed as hard as thews could drive oars, turn by turn by turn.
The shore rose, cliffs sheering cloudward, cleft with inlets, above a maze of islets and skerries. Here he kept the sea and gave his crews no more ease than they must have if they were to carry on. He hoped to join his wife’s father at Nidaros before Thuning got that far.
A west wind sprang up, shrill and raw. Green-backed waves rushed to break in foam and thunder on the rocks. Ships rolled and pitched. Rowers braced feet against rib timbers as they heaved to keep clear. However chill the air, sweat ran down their skins till its salt mingled with the spindrift on their lips.
Hadding squinted landward. Behind him the sun struck through a gray wrack. Brightness flared off the surf. Beyond it a narrow strip of strand ran below heights where a few dwarfed pines clung. A man stood there. Hadding saw him take off his cloak and hold it high. It beat in the wind like a great blue wing.
“Is he wrecked?” wondered Svein. “He seems to want us come take him aboard.”
Einar barked a laugh. “If so, his woes have driven him mad.”
Hadding stiffened. He gripped the rail and leaned far over. The rolling brought him breast-on to the water, then aloft into the weather. Still he peered. All at once he shivered, turned about, and said, !We’ll go after him.”
“What?” shouted Einar. “Lord, you can’t be mad too!”
“Tell the crew,” Hadding said. “I’ll take the helm myself.” He made his way aft through crowded, crouching men.
“Do as he bids,” Ax-Egil said. “He kens more about some things than you or I would like to.”
As folk watched aghast from the other ships, Firedrake came around.
