Eric the King had espial since winter’s end of all that was done in the south there. When news was brought him of the gathering to a head of that power in Jomsburg and the Dane-realm he took counsel first with Thorgnyr the Lawman. “And now,” said the King, “is that need come upon us that we must lay our plans not as ’twere but Danes only and outlanders we must cope withal. For this, if it come about, shall bring into the land upon us a man of our own blood and line; and a man not to be driven alive out of the Swede-realm, I well think, once he shall have reached out hand to take it in my despite; and a man well loved of the folk too.”

Thorgnyr looked and beheld awhile in silence the face of the King. Then, “Lord,” he said, “there be two ways at every turning.”

“I see but one,” answered the King.

“That,” said Thorgnyr, “is because you do hold your head so high that you may not of your greatness see this other way. And that is right, for it beseemeth not Kings to see all that groundlings can. Only, if you bid me counsel you in this, I must be no partial counseller. There be two ways.”

“Stand or flee away?” said King Eric. “There is but one way for Kings.”

Thorgnyr said, “You have answered me.” And he fell silent again. The King had turned his gaze away, and sat there leaning his chin heavily on one hand. Thorgnyr had liberty so to study the King’s face, and it seemed to him the face of a man that hath put behind him both good and ill, and goeth in some deep resolve unto his fate. Thorgnyr pondered these things awhile. Then he said, “Now I shall not be slow to tell you my rede, Lord. And this it is: that you let call a Thing straightway in Upsala. There, what griefs soever the bonders have, right them out of hand, and better thus and thus the laws for the common sort and do men right, that men’s hearts may incline mightily unto you. And therewithal let shear up the war-arrow, and call an all-folk hosting. And that were good rede, too, to stick the seaways that leadeth to Upsala, so as their ships may find no fairway to come up at us through the Low.”

They talked long on these things, and the King deemed good of Thorgnyr’s redes and let do accordingly. And the King let hallow the holy Thing, and there was huge going together of the folk in the Thing-mead before Upsala, with the throng of the bonders and the common sort and the King’s men and the following of the Earls and lords and landed men that were thither come at the King’s bidding from all the lands and countries of the realm of Sweden. And thither were gathered Earl Aunund of Fiadrundarland and the Earls of Helsingland and Tenthland and East Gautland, Bodvar Auzurson of Leikberg with a great company, Hermund the Old from Eyland, Koll Sigmundson of Acre-eres and Hiarrandi his brother, An the Black from Jarnberaland, Slaying-Starkad of Raening-oyce, Kalf Ongialdson of Kalmar, Steinfinn of Hising, Day Heriolfson and the lords of Jamtland and the Dales, Jorund of Vear, Liot Liotson of the Knolls, Oliver Leatherneck of Dalby, and many more. And earliest come of all the great men was Skogul-Tosti, the father of Sigrid the Queen. For in that same hour when the King’s bidding reached Tosti he took horse and rode from Arland, two days and a night without sleep or stay, till he was come into Upsala.

Men were all agog now with tidings likely and unlikely of Styrbiorn’s farings: one saying that he was already come aland beside Mirkwood and had burnt up the whole wood with fire: another that he was gotten into Norway and had slain Earl Hakon there in a pitched battle, and would shortly fare over the Keel into Sweden; another that he was turned away east for Garthrealm with all his ships, and all danger past: another that they were shut up in Jomsburg by the Wends: another that he was dead: another that he and the King were friends again, and that he was even now secretly in the King’s house in Upsala. With all which busy and contrary talk was the whole Thing in an hubbub. Nor was it clear how much men were like to hold by the King and follow him when it should come to fighting, and how much their minds inclined to Styrbiorn. But when the King spake to them of that which he was minded to do for the bettering of the laws and righting of the wrongs of men, according to the wholesome redes of Thorgnyr, then were they that had been eager before to do him service yet the more eager when they heard him say those words, and went all together praising the King and shouting that he should lead them into battle; and they that were of the other party held their peace or changed their minds.

And now the King let proclaim an all-folk hosting.

The fifth night after, King Eric and his men being served and set to the supper, came a man of his with sure tidings from the south that Styrbiorn, with so great an host of warships as had not been seen together till that day by living man, was sailed out of the Limfirth and thence along Skaney-side for Sweden. The King had not yet fully eaten, that there came into the hall a man of his bodyguard to let the King know that hither was come Earl Wolf, Styrbiorn’s foster-father and mother’s brother, ridden up to the King’s garth dirtied up to the horse’s belly, “And would fain have speech with you, Lord, but durst not trust himself unto you but and if you will handsel him peace and safety.”

“There is little need of that,” said the King. “When hath he known me to be sly, quaint and false, were it my very foe in mine hand to do of him as I will? But this is my friend and kinsman. Tell him he shall have peace.”

When Earl Wolf was come into the hall and stood before King Eric, the King said, “Thou rodest not hither to the Thing. A poor man that is true is better than an Earl if he be false.”

“That I am come to you now, King,” answered the Earl, “let that speak for my truth. And never was greater need of good will ’twixt kinsman and kinsman. And ’tis that hath brought me, ’gainst all wise fears and mine own good.”

“Thou look’st afeared,” said the King. “Yet I have known thee for a brave man.”

“I fear not for myself,” answered he, “but for you, King; and for others.”

“Hath Styrbiorn sent thee to me?” asked the King.

“No,” he said. “I’ll walk in no nets, thinking I am hid. He hath not sent me. Yet I think he’ll welcome me with both hands if you will send me to him.”

“Hast had speech of him?”

The Earl said, “Yes.”

“Is he landed?”

“King,” answered the Earl, “he is landed Southway by Mirkwood. Late yester-evening.”

“Alone?” asked the King.

“With an host not to be dealt with in battle,” said the Earl. “There is little time left: you see me ridden hot haste to you: I have killed two horses under me⁠—”

“Why?” said the King. “To lend me aid against him?”

Looking in the King’s countenance that seemed hard and ice-cold, and hearing the accent of his speech, inhospitable and passionless as the voice of the sea grinding on a shingle beach, the Earl winced, as a man might wince under a wintry blast. “I came to you, King,” he said, “to make peace while there is yet time.”

“He hath come aland,” said the King. “Time is gone by, then. I said that if ever he should come again into the Swede-realm, that should be his death.”

“Say not so, King,” said Earl Wolf, and his face was ashen-hued. “Is all your old memories worn so out of mind? Because you are like and like, do not for that sake break one another. You would not hear him, but did send him into this woeful banishment unheard. That which befell on that ill night⁠—”

“Hold,” said the King, breaking in upon him. “Dost thou not know that the man who speaketh of that night in my hearing shall lose nothing but his life? And my peace which I sware unto thee shieldeth thee not as for that.”

The Earl bowed his head. “For your old love sake and kinship, Lord, will you not bend, and it were but one finger’s breadth? For so meseemeth, even so little a thing might set all aright: even if you should but take back the whole kingdom into your own hand, and let him then be heir unto you. Even should you still hold by your great rigour against him, to ban him from the land all your lifedays, yet I think I should persuade his mind, fierce and masterful though he be, to swallow it. Though you should live (and that is to be hoped for) unto a deep old age, yet is it to be looked for that he should live longer than you, King, being he is now so young and you thrice his years: then might he take after you in Upsala; but now you have broken all his hope and done him the worst wrong, and that remediless, to crown your own young son to be King with you in his stead. Will you not undo this deed? And then, on my head be it if I send him not away again out of Sweden. I’ll ride all night to bring him the news.”

Earl Wolf ended so, and stood waiting on the King’s answer. The King, that had harkened to all this with clouded brow and downward look, and with hands pressed open, palms downward, on the board before him, lifted his face now and gazed steadily in the Earl’s face. “Whet me or let me,” he said: “the harm is done. Much could I forbear and much treat on with a man of mine own blood, and hard it must go with me now to say nay to this. Yet so it must be. The man that hath once drawn sword against me, with him I will make no atonement. It must now be tried out whether of us twain must be King in Upsala.”

There was that in the King’s face, and in the hard and chilling command that was in his voice, that took all heart out of the Earl for further speech. For a minute he stood looking on the King: then he turned his gaze right and left about the shadowy hall, meeting but looks that were borrowed from the King’s, grim and set; save only that old man Thorgnyr, whose countenance none might read: Helgi and Thorir and Thorgisl with sneering looks and the swagger of court bravery: and last, the Queen’s lovely face with eyes dark and doubtful and with nostrils dilated a little, like some fierce and graceful beast’s at the scent of blood.

“Wilt thou stay with me, Earl, or go back to him?” said the King.

“Is it in my choice, Lord?”

“It is in thy choice,” said the King. “And if thou choosest to go, I will send thee with safe conduct. For like enow the ways will be little safe for one faring southward from Upsala, sith I have bid out a war-gathering with an arrow-bidding. And thou art not a man unknown to folk, nor is thy kindred unknown and ties of friendship.”

“This will ever be said of you, Lord,” said Earl Wolf then, “that you are of all kings the most openhanded and the most high-minded. But that you are too hard-hearted and stubborn of bent, it hath been seen tonight. And this may be the beginning of woe to many.”

Earl Wolf took leave of the King now and rode south again, heavy of heart, to Styrbiorn his foster-son. But in Upsala was all gotten ready for battle. By then were the stakes stuck in the fairway below Sigtun, and weapons and war-gear dealt out among the bonders, and the fighting men marshalled under their captains and lords so as each man should know his place and what to do when the time should come. But with such unlooked-for sudden speed had Styrbiorn fared north from Denmark, that the King wanted yet nigh the third part of his host he had looked to muster, and hour by hour from the south came men with tidings of Styrbiorn’s approach. And it was clear now that the King must fight with that force he had, for little likelihood there was that he should be able to hold off the battle long time enough for all his folk to gather under his banners.

In all this making ready had the King chiefest part, and men marked in what unwearying way he wrought, yet like a man that is without gladness in his task and without thought for the morrow; and he fared through the army and took counsel and issued his commands as a smith might smithy or a digger delve a ditch, so that men thought the heart was gone from him, and but his strength and wisdom only and his iron purpose yet living in him and ruling these things.

Sigrid the Queen came to Thorgnyr and said, “Thou mayst say this is not women’s work, but ’tis this now lieth us on hand, to hold the realm against Styrbiorn until our full host be gathered. And as things stand now, if he should avail to bring his host upon us and force the King to battle ere he be ready, like enough we were all shent.”

“That is true,” said Thorgnyr.

“Hast thou thought on this,” said the Queen: “to gather together all the beasts of draught, both horses and oxen, that you may, and bind pikes and bills upon them so as they shall stick forth from the beasts, and let thrall-folk and ill-doers be driven before you to drive on the beasts against Styrbiorn and his folk? That should fetch him mickle man-spill in the first brunt, and small loss to us, and should even the odds somewhat. Or what thinkest thou?”

“Some would think it an ill deed,” said Thorgnyr.

“If thou deemest hopefully of it,” said she, “I would have thee lay it before the King as thine own rede. He will not take aught from me. Moreover, I would not that he should know that ’twas I thought on’t.”

The same hour Thorgnyr laid this before the King. The King listened without changing countenance and was silent awhile, as if weighing the matter. Then his look darkened and he said, “Many will blame me for this and say ’tis a poor game to play. But is it not all a poor game, Thorgnyr, that I have set mine hand to: to bear war against myself? Yet will I play it out, and leave naught untried: no, not this nor a worse thing, if thou canst find it. Let set about it straight.”

When Queen Sigrid knew that this rede of hers was taken by the King she was glad at heart. She let send for Helgi and charged him saying, “I will have thee do this, Helgi: thou shalt seek out that little hairy ox that Styrbiorn set so much store by, and so bring it about that he shall be arrayed in the midst and front of all the baggage-beasts. That will be good sport, that they should meet the last time in battle indeed, ’stead of as heretofore in make-believe.”

Helgi promised this, to do as the Queen bade him. But it came not about, for Moldi was now in Jomsburg.

Now was it the third evening since tidings were first brought to King Eric in Upsala of Styrbiorn’s coming aland at Mirkwood. And now was all ready to the King’s hand and his army weaponed and marshalled and the beasts furnished and their drivers held in readiness. And on this had he determined, to give Styrbiorn battle in the ings and meadows on the left bank of Fyriswater a few miles below Upsala. Nor did the King lack aught save only men; but that was a sore lack, and might, if it so fell out, danger his whole state and kingdom. But there were fresh forces that should swell the King’s army, some coming in hourly and others due on the morrow or the morrow’s morrow.

All that day had the King busied himself with the army, looking to every point, even to the weapons and gear of the meanest man of the host and the cooking gear and meat and drink, that every man might be well fed and in frame for the fight; and he spake with men and heartened them and bade them quit themselves well when it should come to the proof. And now, when all was to his mind, he with his bodyguard rode at evening with Thorgnyr down to the head of the firth at River-oyce, mainly to ease his mind with riding after the long day’s toil, but with this intent also, to see for sure that Styrbiorn’s fleet had not sailed up into the firth despite the sticking of the channel at Sigtun. For if that should befall, then might they come upon the King’s forces and Upsala from all another side than that whence they were looked for.

Day was fading as the King and Thorgnyr rode down to the desolate shore at the firth-head. The wind blew a gale from the west. The first was empty: not a ship nor a boat: only iron clouds, murky and unbroken, that tore out of the western airt and passed overhead and away endlessly down the dark eastern sky behind the windswept pinewoods. Eric the King sat silent on his horse there, looking through half-shut eyelids upwind as if into the heart or quickening womb of that turmoil. Thorgnyr sat silent beside him: neither he nor any man that was there durst speak word to the King, for he seemed fallen in a mood that brooks not speech. After a time the King, troubled perhaps by his horse’s fidgetting, dismounted, tossed his reins to a house-carle of his, and walked down a few paces to the edge of the low cliff that overhung the stony beach where the waves broke and thundered. There he stood alone. Night shut down. There was no moon, and sea and sky were now mingled and blurred together; and, to a man so striving to gaze up that baffling and hurtling wind, there was naught to be seen save row after row of breakers bodied in unending succession out of the womb of night, and livid white in the windy darkness. One after another broke into foam, first along but a short strip of wave, then spreading quickly its foaming crest left and right. And in that blackness, where landmark and sea-mark were swallowed up, that spreading gave the appearance of white things first seen afar then rushing shoreward with a speed that seemed terrible and beyond nature, broadside on the flood.

A full hour the King stood watching them rush out of the remote dark to their ruin on the shore, by tens and by hundreds, and naught left but the black backwash at his feet. Then, without a word, he turned about, took horse again, and rode with his company back through the night to Upsala.