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

about that. . . God might in time bring all thin gs to pass. Harald was only con cerned, bleakly, with getting what he could.
    And peace was made. Each king would reign over his own, to the border which had been laid down dim ages ago; neither would pay aught to the other, but each man must bear his own gain or loss as best he could. This peace was to remain between the realms for as long as both kings lived; and it was sworn to with mighty oaths on holy relics, and confirmed by exchange of hostages.
    When the news was spread about, the warriors broke into shameless cheering, dancing around and clashing sword on shield and falling into the arms of erstwhile foes, until the forest birds fled upward in a startled cloud. When he came home, Harald thought, bells would ring as they had never rung for a victory.
    He felt more alone than ever before in his life.
    Svein sought him. The Dane bore a warmth in his eyes which few had seen erenow.
    "You fought bravely," he said. "No man has had a more valiant foe than I, and if we gained naught else we have honor and names which will not be forgotten. I bear you no ill will, Harald Sigurdharson. Shall we not be friends?"
    The Norse king looked down at him. "We have sworn peace," he said. "See that you keep this one vow."
    He turned and walked slowly away.
     
     
    VI
    How They Fought in Sweden
     
    1
     
    That summer King Harald again dwelt in Oslo, busying himself with everday matters; but he sent many spies into the Uplands and questioned closely all men who came back from foreign voyages. It was to be seen that he was often in a dark humor, but these fits slowly lifted and became less common, as if he had found some new hope. No man was told what this might be, and talk of it ranged everywhere from another journey toward Jotunheim to a conquest of England.
    In midseason, the royal bailiffs went forth to gather taxes, and the Upland yeomen refused them afresh. When this was told the king, he nodded. "I expected naught else," he said evenly. "They have had two chances now; there shall not be a third."
    The bailiffs felt a freezing, as if the quiet words had held winter cold.
    Still Harald dawdled, while harvest time approached. Elizabeth often sang at her work, but Thora grew more and more sullen. Finally she could hold herself in no longer.
    It was on an evening of rain and mist, the first bite of frost in the air as days shortened, that her man went in to her. He had been sleeping more with his wife of late, which whetted his leman's temper. She was seated before a mirror, tending her hair, when he walked into the bedchamber of her house.
    His great height filled the doorway as he dropped the bolt behind him. She turned the face of a foe and regarded him.
    "Well," she said, "did you want a change? Now that summer is past, you seem less fond of icicles."
    "I order my own affairs," he answered shortly.
    "And never have you thought that someone else might have rights in the matter." Thora slammed her brush down on the table. "Indeed you are Harald Hardrede. Yet already, as you near the half century mark, you become a coal biter."
    He raised his left brow. "So now you would wear breeches and steer the kingdom," he murmured.
    Thora got up and came toward him, her fists doubled at her flanks. He thought anew what a fair and lively woman she was, and felt an old wish. It was saddening how all in life, power and friends, horses and ships and love, could become simple habit.
    Yes, he thought, it was past time that we ended the war against Svein and sought something new. "I do not wish to," said Thora, "but someone must be king, and it seems you've no more heart for the task."
    That stung, but he held himself on tight rein. "There is more to ruling than you know," he said. "Have you ever had a thought in your life?"
    "So now you must reproach me," she flared. "I must bear the blame of your life's failures."
    "In what way think you I have failed? Luck was not always mine, but we still hold