He had won Koll over. “Yes, I’m wearied of this rootless roving,” his partner said. “I’m ready for a home, where I can watch the sons I beget grow up and know they’ll remember me when I’m gone.”
Tosti bared his teeth. “And I’m overready for my revenge.”
Thus, early that summer, they took their fleet back across the North Sea.
They raised the hills of southern Norway and knew they were in the Skagerrak. Having rested a day ashore, they bore south of east for Denmark. The wind was fair, which seemed a hopeful sign, and they sailed steadily through a moon-bright night. In the morning they saw to starboard the heather and sands of the Skaw.
Then they saw what they liked less well, a score of long-ships with oars at work. Shields hung bright along rails, helmets and spearheads flashed aboard. Tosti uttered foul words. Koll yelled to him over the waves, “You told me there’d be no warders here!”
“Who could have known?” Tosti howled. “Strike sails and come about!” For the others were to leeward of them. Someone had been watching from land and laying his plans.
Hard though the vikings pulled, the Danes, fresher and in longer hulls with more rowers, slowly overhauled them. As the sun passed noon, they drew within shouting range. A tall man stood up in the bows Of the foremost. His voice boomed across the rush and glitter of waves, the whittering of wind: “Ahoy! Who goes there?”
“No foes to you,” Tosti cried. “Not today,” he added for his crews to hear, lest they think he was afraid.
“We’ll board you and make sure of that,” the tall man told them.
“No!” blared Koll. “Not unless you cut your way! Who dares give us orders?”
“Hadding the Dane-king,” answered the tall man.
Tosti shrieked in wrath run wild.
Hadding shaded his eyes and peered. “Is that you, Tosti? I thought it might be. Welcome to the end of your wanderings.”
“Make ready to fight,” ran along the lengths of the viking craft.
“Lie to and we’ll talk,” called Hadding.
“What?” barked Koll.
“Maybe you can outlive this day. But if you want to, first you must hear me.”
The rover skippers hallooed among each’ other. Rowers rested their oars. Hadding’s brought him within yards. “A bowshot, a bowshot,” Tosti rasped.
As if he had heard, Hadding warned, “One spear or arrow, and you’re all dead. Hark well.
“If we do battle on the water, it’ll be harder for us to get at you than on land, and whoever falls overboard, his mail will sink him. We’d clear your decks, but it would cost more than I want to spend. Better for us if we go ashore. You know that, so you won’t.
“Now what I offer, Tosti, is that you and I seek the strand and meet man to man. We’ll each take a boat, while our ships draw too far apart for any sudden onslaught. Then if I fall, you can get back to yours in time to flee. If I win, I’ll have scrubbed the world clean of you without squandering good lives. Have you that much manhood?”
“Yes, and more!” Tosti choked out of a throat gone thick. With every eye upon him, where every ear heard him mocked, he could say nothing else. Besides, he quaked with blood lust.
“I’ve brought two skiffs that a single man can row,” Hadding made known. “We’ll set one adrift for you. I’ll meet you on the strand below that bluff where three pines grow.”
Thus it came to be. The Danes laid two miles between themselves and the vikings. They left behind the boat Hadding had promised. Tosti’s ship went to it, a hook pulled it alongside, he scrambled down. “Kill him, kill him,” hooted his followers.
“I will, the old lame hound,” he cried back, and rowed.
For all his farings these past years, he was an awkward seaman. His oars caught crabs, the boat wallowed, water dashed over the side and sloshed about his feet, he grunted and puffed. Though Hadding had farther to go, the king got there first. He rode the surf neatly into the shoals, sprang out, hauled his craft up, and made it fast by its anchor. The breakers capsized Tosti’s. He was within his depth, but staggered as billow after billow brawled over his head. Hadding waded out, caught his arm, and helped him to land.
Tosti stood gasping and snorting. Brine rivered through the rings of his byrnie. Nonetheless he had been quick to draw sword and unsling the shield on his shoulders. Hadding kept aside. The sea drummed and foamed. Sunshine baked tang from kelp. The sand sheened dark here and glittered higher up where it rose into dunes. Gulls soared, dipped, mewed.
Tosti glowered. “Did you mean for me to drown?”
Hadding shrugged. “I’d not have been too sorry. But I’ve looked forward to feeding you, myself, to my seafowl.”
“How did you know of me?”
“Did you think I’d forget about a troll like you? I rewarded whoever brought me news of your whereabouts and misdeeds. When I learned you’d gone to England, I sent trusty men there to find out what they could. When word came that you were linked with that Koll, it seemed likely you’d be back to irk us anew, and I sent still more spies out. When you bragged that this year you’d be going, word got around, and a swift ship sought home to me. True, I couldn’t foresee where you’d come, but I lay here at the Skaw later than I otherwise would have, in hopes.” Hadding grinned. “Hopes fulfilled. The Father of Victories shall have a big thank-offering when you and I are through.”
“Yes, I’ll give him you.”
“He’ll pick which of us he wants, though I should think he’d kick you down to Helheim. Are you ready?”
Tosti yowled,
