Vandrad the Viking | Page 6

Harfagri descended and made a clean sweep of them in the
interests of what he probably considered society.
The two vessels floated close together, the oars were shipped, and there,
in the grey prosaic early morning light, they heaved gently on the North
Sea swell, and awaited the approach of the ten. A few sea-birds circled
and screamed above them; a faint pillar of smoke rose from some
homestead on a distant shore; elsewhere there was no sign of life save
in the ships to seaward.
Thorkel, leaning over the side of his vessel, told a tale of buffetings by
night and day such as Estein and his crew had undergone. That
morning he said they had descried Estein's ship just as the day broke,
and almost immediately afterwards ten long ships were spied lying at
anchor in an island bay. For a time they hoped to slip by them unseen.
The fates, however, were against them. They were observed, and the
strange Vikings awoke and gave chase like a swarm of bees
incautiously aroused.
Apparently the strangers considered themselves hardly yet prepared for
battle; for they slackened speed as they advanced, and those on Estein's
ships could see that a hasty bustle of preparation was going on.
"What think you--friends or foes?" asked Helgi.
"To the Orkney Vikings all men are foes," replied Estein.
"Ay," said Thorkel with a laugh, "particularly when they are but two to
ten."
By this time the strangers were within hailing distance, and in the
leading ship a man in a red cloak came from the poop and stood before
the others in the bow. In a loud tone he bade his men cease rowing, and
then, clapping his hand to his mouth, asked in a voice that had a ring of

scornful command what name the captain bore.
"Estein, the son of Hakon, King of Sogn; and who are you who ask my
name?" came the reply across the water.
"Liot, the son of Skuli," answered the man in the red cloak. "With me
sails Osmund Hooknose, the son of Hallward. We have here ten
warships, as you see. Yield to us, Estein Hakonson, or we will take by
force what you will not give us."
The man threw his left hand on his hip, drew himself up, and said
something to his crew, accompanying the words by gestures with a
spear. They answered with a loud shout, and then struck up a wild and
monotonous chorus, the words of which were a refrain descriptive of
the usual fate of those who ventured to stand in Liot Skulison's way. At
the same time their oars churned the water, and their vessel was
brought into line with the others.
"It is easily seen that our friend Liot is a valiant man," said Helgi with a
short laugh. "He and his ill-looking crew make a mighty noise. Has any
man heard of Liot Skulison or Osmund Hooknose before?"
"Ay," answered Ulf. "They call them the bairn-slayers, because they
show no mercy even to children."
"They will meet with other than bairns to-day," said Helgi.
Estein and Thorkel had been employed in binding the two vessels
together with grapnels. Then Estein turned to his men and said,--
"We are of one mind, are we not? We fight while we may, and then let
Odin do with us what he wills."
Without waiting for the shout of approval that followed his words, he
sprang to the bow, and raising his voice, cried,--
"We are ready for you, Liot and Osmund. When you get on board you
can take what you find here."

From another ship a man shouted,--
"Then you will fight, little Estein? Remember that we are called the
bairn-slayers."
Instantly Thorkel took up the challenge. Three beakers of ale had made
him in his happiest and most warlike mood, and his eyes gleamed
almost merrily as he answered,--
"I know you, Osmund the ugly, by that nose whereon men say you
hang the bairns you catch. Little need have you to do aught save look at
them. Here is a gift for you," and with that he hurled a spear with so
true an aim that, if Osmund had not stooped like a flash, his share in the
fight would have come to an end there and then. As it was, the missile
struck another man between the shoulders and laid him on the deck.
"Forward! forward!" cried Liot. "Forward, Vikings! forward, the men
of Liot and Osmund!"
The oars struck the water, the wild chorus swelled into a terrible and
tuneless roar, and the ten ships bore down on the two. With a crash the
bows met, and metal rang on metal with the noise of a hundred smithies;
the unequal contest had begun.
Overpowering as