TLV - 03 - The Sign of the Raven by Poul Anderson

before Haakon's eyes. He was done, he had failed, Harald Hardrede had smashed his hopes and trampled them underfoot. There they went, the heartless cravens, breaking and running into the woods, little they cared to sit in Valhall!
    Haakon shook his fist at the sky. "Why did You not give me some Norsemen?" he shrieked.
    Then he picked up a spear and went swiftly in among the trees himself.
     
    3
     
    Pursuit of the Swedes did not last long, for darkness came fast. In the guttering glare of torches, Harald's army gathered itself again. The snow had stopped falling, but lay white on the dead. Strange how helpless a man was once he had died, not even able to keep the snow off his freezing body; he went back to babyhood and soiled himself and crept into the night from which he had come.
    Harald regarded the banner of Magnus. "This much we have," he said. "But did the jarl fall?"
    "I know not," said Ulf. He and Gunnar were tilting a jug the latter had carried along; being wearied, they were well started toward drunkenness. "Too many dead; I've no wish t' turn o'er corpses."
    "Haw!" said Gunnar. "You'd liefer turn over a Swedish wench, eh?" He felt cocky; the king had promised him fine gifts and a place in the royal guard for his work today.
    "If she lay on her belly, aye," said Ulf. He made owl eyes. "But she nee'n' be Sweesh. Any race'll do. I min' one Moorish maid down in Miklagardh ... see, skaldcraft there . . . many years agone; ah, yes, t' be young!"
    Harald's face thrust its red-splashed crags out of shadow. "We've broken the Gotland and Varmland hosts, at least," he said. "Late will they follow Haakon again after this drubbing! Now it's a matter of teaching our own Uplanders some manners."
    "That will be harder," said Eystein. A wryness twisted his mouth. "They are Norse. I like it not."
    "Nor I," said Harald, "but the task must be done." His glance fell on Magnus, who had come with this band and fought well. "I'd not leave you a kingdom where men dared rebel, my son."
    The youth's face kindled.
    The host worked busily, binding up hurt friends and putting these with their fallen comrades on litters chopped from branches. Thereafter they stripped the Swedish dead, for a good plunder of weapons and ornaments, but let the wounded foemen, fallen into their hands, go home as best they might. It was some time before the conquerors started back to the ships.
    That would be several hours' walk, but Harald had no wish to camp in the snow. He mounted his stallion and led the way. Behind him, torches flickered down the trail, like a snake with scales of fire. Overhead the sky was clearing, stars glistened out and the moon threw an eldritch whiteness on the land.
    Ulf rode too. "Walk alongside me, Gunnar," he asked. "I'm like t' fall off. Wha' the Devil'd you put in 'at jug?"
    "Wine, I bought some wine off a chapman ere we left Oslo. Methought 'twould serve well."
    "So it has, so it has." Ulf hiccupped. "I'll be less happy t'morr'w, but tonight . . . stars, moon, aye, i's cold an' well I'd like t' get into a good warm woman."
    "I know some in Oslo," said Gunnar.
    "No." The marshal shook his head dolefully. "Back at home I'm good steady househol'er. One at a time. . . Got good wife. Sweet li'l woman once she's shouted at enough. No' th' man I use't' be. Time was when ... I ramble. All women're alike, saving only one, see you. So why mus' a man ever be looking f'r a new one, she's but more o' th' same, an' yet t'night . . ."
    He threw back his head and broke into bawdy song. The men nearby grinned and took it up. Soon the whole host was roaring it out.
    Harald hunched in the saddle. He had taken off his chill ar mor and donned a thick coat, but still the winter struck at him. There was time. . . . His head lifted, defiantly. Before God, he was not yet old, he would still stand the world on its tail!
    They had crossed the open ground and now entered the main forest. It gloomed about them, tangled brush and frost-glittery beech, a wall on