Robert Howard: Tigers Of The Sea

"Ho, rats!" Wulfhere shouted, as his Vikings cast off and the oars of the Raven began to ply, "I leave you your blood-gutted craft and the carrion that was Rudd Thorwald. Make the best you can of them and thank the gods that I spared your lives!"

The losers harkened in sullen silence, answering only with black scowls, all save one-a lean, wolfish figure of a warrior, who brandished a notched and bloody axe and shouted: "Mayhap you will curse the gods some day, Skull-splitter, because you spared Halfgar Wolf's-tooth!"

It was a name, in sooth, that Wulfhere had cause to remember well in later days. But now the chief merely roared in laughter, though Cork mac frowned.

"It is a foolish thing to taunt beaten men, Wulfhere," said he. "But you have a nasty cut across your ribs. Let me see to it."

Marcus turned away with the gem that Helen had worn. The flood of savagery during the last few hours left him dazed and weary. But he had discovered strange, dark deeps in his own soul. A few minutes of fierce sword-play on the gunwales of a sea-rover had sufficed to bridge the gap of three centuries. Coolness in action, a characteristic drilled into his forebears by countless Roman officers, and inherited by him, had been swept away in an instant before the wild, old Celtic fury before which Caesar had staggered on the Ceanntish beaches. For a few mad moments he had been one with the wild men about him. The shadows of Rome were fading; was he, too, like all the world, reverting to the nature of his British ancestors, bloodbrothers in: savagery to Wulfhere Skull-splitter?

"It is not far from here to Kaldjorn where Thorleif Hordi's son has built his stealing," said Cormac, glancing abstractedly at the mast where now sixteen brass nails gleamed dully.

The Norse were already establishing themselves in the Hebrides, the Orkneys and the Shetlands. Later these movements would become permanent colonizations; at this time, however, their steadings were merely pirate camps.

"The Sudeyar lie to the east, just out of sight over the sea-rim," Cormac continued. "We must resort to craft again. Thorleif Hordi's son has four long ships and three hundred carles. We have one ship and less than eighty men. We can not do as Wulfhere wishes: go ashore and burn Thorleif's skalli-and he will not be likely to give up such a prize as the princess Helen without a battle.

"This is what I suggest: Thorleif's steading is on the east side of the isle of Kaldjorn, which luckily is a small one. We will draw in under cover of night, on the west side. There are high cliffs there and the ship should be safe from detection for a time, since none of Thorleif's folk have any reason to wander about on the western part of the island. Then I will go ashore and seek to steal the princess."

Wulfhere laughed. "You will find it a more difficult matter to hoax the Norse than you did the Scots. Your locks will brand you as a Gael and they will cut the blood-eagle in your back."

"I will creep among them like a serpent and they will know naught of my coming," answered the Gael. "Your Norseman is a very dullard when it comes to stealth, and easy to deceive."

"I will go with you," broke in Marcus. "This time I will not be denied."

"While I must gnaw my thumb on the west side of the isle," grumbled Wulfhere enviously. "Wait," said Donal. "I have a better plan, Cormac."

"Say on," the Gael prompted him.

"We shall buy the princess from Thorleif Hordi's son. Wulfhere-how much loot have you aboard this ship?"

"Enough gold to ransom a noble lady, mayhap," grunted the Dane, "but not enough to buy back Gerinth's sister-that would cost half a kingdom. Moreover, Thorleif is my bloodenemy, and would rather see my head on a spear at his skalli-door than all Gerinth's gold in his coffers."

"Thorleif need not know this is your ship," said Donal. "Nor can he know that the lady he holds captive is the princess Helen; to him she will be the lady Atalanta, no more. Now, here is my plan: you, Wulfhere, shall disguise yourself and take your place with your warriors, while Thorfinn, your second-in-command, acts as chief. Marcus here shall play the part of Atalanta's brother, while I shall be her childhood mentor; we shall say we have come to ransom her, cost what it may-hiring this Viking-crew to aid us, since the Britons have no more ships and no men to spare from their borders."

"It will cost a-plenty," grumbled Wulfhere. "Thorleif is as shrewd as he is rapacious; he will drive a hard bargain.".

"Let him. Gerinth will pay you back, though it cost you all the loot in your hold. The king has sent me with you to be his judge in these matters-and let my head be forfeit for any promise I should make in his name, for he shall keep it!"

"I trust your sincerity and Gerinth's," said Wulfhere, "yet this plan is not to my liking. Rather would I fall on Thorleif's skalli like a thunderbolt, with arrow-storm and sharp-edged steel."

"As would I," said Cormac; "yet Donal's plan is best if rescue of the princess Helen is our goal. Thorleif's carles outnumber us at least three to one, and even were we to best them in a surprise attack the princess might well be slain in the fray. Donal's plan is good; Thorleif would contest us with steel were he to know whom he holds as captive, but if he thinks he holds hostage only a noble lady of the Britons, Atalanta, then doubtless he'll accept a hold full of loot for her rather than risk his ships and men in a fight. And if Donal's plan fails, then we'll still have mine to try.

"Well," said Wulfhere, "there's wisdom in Donal's way, I'll not gainsay it. But I'll stay on the strand with the crew while Thorfinn and Marcus and Donal bargain for Gerinth's sister, lest I should betray our venture; for I have sworn that when next I see Thorleif Hordi's son's treacherous face I shall cleave it to the chin!"

"I'll be in on the bargaining," said Cormac. "Thorleif shall not recognize me through this beard."

"Likely not," grunted the Dane, "for he saw you but briefly, and that during a sea-fight. Yet I'll be ready to lead the crew in a charge should aught go wrong at the dickering. Steersman!" he bellowed, "make for the Scottish mainland-we'll need a day's rest to lick our wounds and, gather provisions before we sail for the Hebrides."

As the ship headed for the wild coastland, not one man of its sharp-eyed crew noticed the ship of the defeated Jutes, with barely enough men left to man the oars, bearing off across the horizon of the gray sea toward the northeast, its square sail belled to the wind, its rowers working frantically-

Nor, far in its wake, too far to be seen save by the most keen-eyed of lookouts, the small, dark longboat full of small, dark men-men with bows, flint-tipped arrows and dark eyes full of intent watchfulness and grim purpose.

A cold, thin drizzle chilled the air and made the rocks on the beach before Thorleif Hordi's son's steading glimmer as if with dark slime. Beyond drifting wraiths of mist the forest of spruce and pine rose like minarets in a sea of murk. Four long ships lay drawn up on the shore. Farther down the beach lay a fifth with the forepart of its keel upon the sand; near it stood a large band of red-bearded men in scale mail corselets and horned helmets, bearing spears, bows and shields. A high wall of pointed logs paralleled the upper edge of the beach, and from behind this wall rose smoke from the skalli of Thorleif and the lesser dwellings of his carles; while before it and about its broad gate stood ranked over a hundred blond Vikings, armored and armed much like those clustered about the lone long ship. Between the two large bands of warriors, some distance from either, stood a small knot of men divided into two parts and facing one another.

"Bring forth your loot," rumbled Thorleif Hordi's son. "You'll not purchase the Lady Atalanta without a lot of it. By Odin, she's a comely wench, and I'd minded to have her for one of my own brides."