it a man in a gilt helmet stood by the royal banner. Harald sent an arrow with his curses, but it missed. Stooping, he gathered more shafts and kept up his fire. A flung spear grazed his shoulder.
"Onward!" he bellowed. "Lay to, you bilge mice! Up to the Dane king's ship and clear it!"
But they could not, then, reach Svein. The binding ropes held the Fafnir back and the Danish wedge, giving way before Haakon but pressing hard on Eystein, was being swung around. Almost, Harald wanted to cut the lines, but common sense warned him against it.
He stood shooting, lost in a drunkenness of battle, as light waned. The first stars twinkled forth. Men became a shout and a shadow. Here and there, ships locked at each other's throats, warriors struggled across blood-slippery benches, smote and thrust. Harald could see shields glimmer even when night was fully on him, and shot for those. With a hundred pounds behind it, one of his arrows could go through shield and byrnie, flesh and bone and lungs, to come out the other side. He was hardly aware of the shafts and stones that hailed about him, of wounded men calling out, of Thora handing him a cup of beer; he was become a human bow.
Haakon, holding his ships together with horn signals, had cleared one Danish craft after another. In the blue darkness, the rest began to see what an enemy they faced and to seek away from him. He yelled joyously and urged his oarsmen on, into their line, cut the ropes, let them drift apart and spring on board! One sword in his hand grew blunt from use, he grabbed another and wore that down, snatched a third from a Danish jarl who fell at his feet.
Panting, painted with blood, he was back on his flagship looking for another place to attack when a boat bumped his hull. This was one of the lifeboats which were towed behind the longships. A Thrond ish voice cried: "I seek Haakon Jarl. I've word for him."
"Here he is." The Upland chief leaned over the bulwark.
"I'm from Eystein Gorcock," said the rower. "We're sore beset at our end of the line. Can you come help us?"
"Aye, that I can." Haakon sighed; he had almost been at the point of buckling this end of the Danish wedge, but that would be of small use if Eystein's wing was broken. Reaching forth a sinewy hand, he helped the Th rond aboard and winded his horn.
It was slow work, even going behind Harald's fleet. There were so many loose ships, manned only by corpses. Haakon was faintly surprised to see a glimmer of false dawn; had he been fighting so long? He steered around the north end of the line, and saw the Danish vessels grinding up, bow to bow with Eystein's command, ropes being cut and men swarming aboard.
He blew his horn again. Attack them!
It was as if his hours of shooting had gone in a blink when Harald saw he was almost at Svein's ship. Roaring his glee, he dropped the bow and took up a two-handed ax. As the Fafnir sprang forward, he leaned over and slashed the ropes holding Svein's larboard side fast
"Now—Olaf guard the right!"
Shields and whetted metal stood before him as he met the enemy craft. His ax lifted, a spear shaft cracked beneath it, he raised it again and felt it bite on a shield rim. A sword hummed, he took the blade on his iron-bound haft and smashed down a storm of blows.
Framework splintered, and he broke bone the next time. The Dane fell back, crying out. Harald jumped through the gap, whirled about and got another man's neck from behind. It was getting light now; he could just see the struggle at the side and the Danish oarsmen snatching up their arms.
"Svein! Svein Estridhsson, where are you?"
Roar and clangor boomed to the paling stars as the Norsemen snapped the Danish line and leaped aboard. Harald stood gigantic on a bench, waving to his standard-bearer. The boy took up the raven flag and came at a run. They held the prow of Svein's warship; let them now advance into the rest.
Harald strode forth, his ax awhirl. Two men stood on the lengthwise walk, and
"Onward!" he bellowed. "Lay to, you bilge mice! Up to the Dane king's ship and clear it!"
But they could not, then, reach Svein. The binding ropes held the Fafnir back and the Danish wedge, giving way before Haakon but pressing hard on Eystein, was being swung around. Almost, Harald wanted to cut the lines, but common sense warned him against it.
He stood shooting, lost in a drunkenness of battle, as light waned. The first stars twinkled forth. Men became a shout and a shadow. Here and there, ships locked at each other's throats, warriors struggled across blood-slippery benches, smote and thrust. Harald could see shields glimmer even when night was fully on him, and shot for those. With a hundred pounds behind it, one of his arrows could go through shield and byrnie, flesh and bone and lungs, to come out the other side. He was hardly aware of the shafts and stones that hailed about him, of wounded men calling out, of Thora handing him a cup of beer; he was become a human bow.
Haakon, holding his ships together with horn signals, had cleared one Danish craft after another. In the blue darkness, the rest began to see what an enemy they faced and to seek away from him. He yelled joyously and urged his oarsmen on, into their line, cut the ropes, let them drift apart and spring on board! One sword in his hand grew blunt from use, he grabbed another and wore that down, snatched a third from a Danish jarl who fell at his feet.
Panting, painted with blood, he was back on his flagship looking for another place to attack when a boat bumped his hull. This was one of the lifeboats which were towed behind the longships. A Thrond ish voice cried: "I seek Haakon Jarl. I've word for him."
"Here he is." The Upland chief leaned over the bulwark.
"I'm from Eystein Gorcock," said the rower. "We're sore beset at our end of the line. Can you come help us?"
"Aye, that I can." Haakon sighed; he had almost been at the point of buckling this end of the Danish wedge, but that would be of small use if Eystein's wing was broken. Reaching forth a sinewy hand, he helped the Th rond aboard and winded his horn.
It was slow work, even going behind Harald's fleet. There were so many loose ships, manned only by corpses. Haakon was faintly surprised to see a glimmer of false dawn; had he been fighting so long? He steered around the north end of the line, and saw the Danish vessels grinding up, bow to bow with Eystein's command, ropes being cut and men swarming aboard.
He blew his horn again. Attack them!
It was as if his hours of shooting had gone in a blink when Harald saw he was almost at Svein's ship. Roaring his glee, he dropped the bow and took up a two-handed ax. As the Fafnir sprang forward, he leaned over and slashed the ropes holding Svein's larboard side fast
"Now—Olaf guard the right!"
Shields and whetted metal stood before him as he met the enemy craft. His ax lifted, a spear shaft cracked beneath it, he raised it again and felt it bite on a shield rim. A sword hummed, he took the blade on his iron-bound haft and smashed down a storm of blows.
Framework splintered, and he broke bone the next time. The Dane fell back, crying out. Harald jumped through the gap, whirled about and got another man's neck from behind. It was getting light now; he could just see the struggle at the side and the Danish oarsmen snatching up their arms.
"Svein! Svein Estridhsson, where are you?"
Roar and clangor boomed to the paling stars as the Norsemen snapped the Danish line and leaped aboard. Harald stood gigantic on a bench, waving to his standard-bearer. The boy took up the raven flag and came at a run. They held the prow of Svein's warship; let them now advance into the rest.
Harald strode forth, his ax awhirl. Two men stood on the lengthwise walk, and
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