Hakon of Rogen's Saga

8

8 Now it was my turn to have the same experience as little Helga had had. Noise of the battle, screams of the wounded and the dying, and the sound of the clashing of swords and shields came muffled into our darkened world. Nor was our own world silent. One wounded man kept moaning and asking for water; another, who had a high fever, sang a monotonous song over and over again. The most unbearable was a little child who wailed, "Mother . . . Mother . . . Mother . . ." in a voice so filled with despair and hopelessness that one did not feel pity, but anger. Toward a need that one is powerless to fulfill, anger is a common reaction; and many voices cursed that poor little child, who was only repeating an age-old prayer. I stayed by the door with my sword drawn, for I had decided that if we lost, and an enemy opened the door, I would kill him. As my eyes grew accustomed to the darkness, I began to recognize my fellow prisoners. "Helga," I called just above a whisper. "Hakon!" She was standing near me, behind an oak beam that supported the roof. "They have put me with the children," I said bitterly . 50 "I am glad," she said. To remove the sting she added, "I worried about you last time." I laid my sword upon the floor and we sat down beside each other. We did not speak, but listened, with our hands clasped, to the battle. All of a sudden, the noise ceased. It was the custom while two chieftains fought to stop the battle. "If my father kills Rolf Blackbeard ..." I did not finish my •/ thought. A loud cry came from outside. I jumped up, grabbing my sword. We could hear people talking in excited voices. "What hashappened?" Helga cried. The door swung open. The glare of the summer sun blinded us. I lifted my sword. "Hakon," said the soft voice of Magnus Thorsen's daughter, and my sword fell to my side. I looked at her and saw the answer to my question in her tearstained face. "Where?"I whispered. Behind Thora stood a group of the invaders. Now they moved aside and I saw the outstretched figure; Rark wasbeside it. "Father!" I screamed but he would never hear me or anyone else again. His face looked peacefully up at me. As I kneeled near his head, a butterfly landed on his chest, polished its feelers, and flew away. "Come." I felt a hand on my shoulder. I rose, obeying the voice of my stepmother. "Your father was a brave man," someone said kindly. I nodded. But in my mind, I could not help but ask: And what hashisbravery won him? 51 A few feet away from my father's lay another body. It was the corpse of Rolf Blackbeard. I noticed that the wind made his long, silky beard move, and it appeared as if he were mumbling. "Who won?" I asked. "No one," answered my stepmother. "Thora Magnusdaughter," a stern voice interrupted, "in the nameof your father, I claimvictory." With scorn Thora turned toward the speaker — a tall, blond man, whose clothes showed that poverty was not a guest in hishouse. "It is not my father but his gold that has bought your sword, Ulv Erikson. Let's call my father's gold the victor, or your — and your companions' — greed." "Claim what you will, Thora, but spare your breath for your father." Then he turned to the men, and ordered Rolf's body to be carried to hisship. We had been defeated, and the fact that Rolf Blackbeard was among the dead did not alter this fact. Of the hundred and forty-three people who had been on the plateau on the day of the first attack, only seventyseven did not have scars to show. In the second battle four women had been wounded, and fourteen were dead; of the men, there were twenty-nine wounded and nineteen dead. The enemy had seventy-six dead and eighteen wounded. Also in Tronhjem women would weep. I sat on the edge of the plateau, wondering what had caused all this grief: My father's love? Magnus Thorsen 's pride and greed? (For he had hoped to marry Thora to the Earl of Viken.) So much death. So much pain. And through the years to come, there would be 5? [18.226.251...