How Eric's Men Too Irish Slaves

Based on the novel

Eric Brighteyes,

by H. Rider Haggard.

*****

This is a story of Eric Brighteyes, son of Thorgrimur, lover of Gudruda the Fair, enemy of her treacherous sister Swanhild and of many envious men besides. Despite his renowned bravery and might, it may be that you know him not; therefore I shall tell you something of him here.

Eric is often called Eric the Unlucky, for the fates decreed that his years should hold suffering in even greater measure than triumph. Indeed, for a span of three years Eric was banished from his beloved Iceland for the slaying of Mord, son of Oskapar, though he did this in the defense of his life; and during this exile he set forth a-viking with a band of brave men and true.

These men departed from Middalhof, and went viking far and wide, borne upon a great dragon of war - a stout oaken ship, and swift. It had been gifted to Eric by the esteemed priest, Asmund, and Eric had named it Gudruda after his love, deeming it as fair a ship as she was a maid.

Chief among Eric's companions in his travels was his servant and blood brother, Skallagrim Lambstail the Baresark, who had once terrorized the south country of Iceland with his mighty skill at arms and battle rages, until Eric had bested him well in single combat and thus won his loyalty.

This story will also deal in part with others, for the band numbered fifty men in all. There was Hrafn, a man much beloved of the company, for he was sharp of mind and always ready with a jape or game; Jon the Young, who was at this time a youth only eighteen summers of age, and not yet grown into the fullness of his strength; Snorri Whitebeard, a veteran of many viking journeys, with much experience sailing the northern seas, who had joined the band at Fareys to take the place of a man slain in battle; and many others besides.

Of those who we do not name here, know that each was a stout warrior of whom many worthy tales could be told. Nor indeed are all the tales sung of these men told at feast, when ladies of good breeding are present. Some are sung when men are a-drinking, and if any women be there to hear, why, their tender feelings do not weigh on the men's minds, for those men are likely enjoying the tenderness of their other womanly features.

Now, in the early days of their raiding, before Eric came to dwell in England, he and his men went viking up and down the coast of Ireland, winning much treasure and glory. No man could stand before them, led as they were by Eric Brighteyes with his sword Whiteflame flashing before him like lightning. Nor were the men of Ireland unworthy foes, for they had been grappling with the Vikings for many a year; but Eric and his band were a league apart.

So great was their success in battle that their names went flying before them, and men eyed the sea for signs of the war-dragon Gudruda. And though Eric had a tender heart and strived always to show fairness and mercy to his foes, word of this spread neither as far nor as fast as word of his might; so the Irish spoke his name in fearful whispers.

Such was their fame when the Gudruda drew near the village of Finpoul, along the river Suirlow. Eric and his men were weary, for they had been warring with Danish vikings who had made themselves a longphort on the Irish coast; and though they had fought valiantly and left many dead behind them, they were so few in number that although they had driven their enemies back to their stronghold, they had not the strength to hound them further. Weary they were, and their supplies dipped low - so they sought out a village from which to stock their warship and their bellies, as they had done more than once before, whether the villagers were pleased with this or no. For truly, to go a-viking is to take what one needs through strength of arm.

Now they docked their warship by the river, and sprang from it ready for war; but no man was in sight to stand against them, nor were there other defenses to bypass, not even a ringfort, for this was a river town and the ground was not suitable for such.

"We seem to have come upon an empty town," spoke one man. "Perhaps some calamity hath come upon them afore we ever reached it."

"Nay," returned Eric, "for all about I see the signs of daily life. More likely they have fled before us to a man; but let us proceed, for the Gudruda has brought us upon them with all swift haste, and they cannot have gone far."

So they proceeded through the town, until they came to a great roundhouse that marked its center; and they were met upon its steps by a woman proud and dark of hair, dressed in a fine silken leine, who greeted them most courteously. Though she was not a maiden in the full flush of youth, yet the weight of years had not yet pressed down heavily upon her, and her face was as fair and unlined as her eyes were piercing.

"Noble Finngaill," she began, "we welcome you to our town. Bearing witness to thy mighty stature, the sword at thy hip, thy noble locks of gold, and thy remarkable gaze, am I mistaken in addressing you as Eric Brighteyes?"

"Nay," replied Eric, "There is no mistake, though I wonder that thou shouldst know my name, and I know not that thine."

"I am Dubheasa, wife of the chief of this village of Finoul; but he is not here to greet you with arms, and as such I shall greet you with words."

"Alas, words alone shall not stay our hand," said Eric, "for we have come to refill the larder of our warship off the sweat of thy people's brow, and we see none ready to stand against our might."

"It is better to give than to have taken," replied Dubheasa, "and it is no bad thing in the eyes of the gods to feed those who hunger, whatever the circumstances may be. Therefore let us extend the hospitality of Finoul to you and all your men; and in the morning we shall pack thy boat with supplies and send thee on thy way, and we shall part in peace."

"To this I most heartily agree," said Eric, "for though fate hath conspired to make of me an outlaw and a viking, I have no heart for battle if it be not needed."

And his men wondered at this, for they had never heard of such like in stories of those returned from a-viking; but seeing their leader Eric accept graciously, they all put down their weapons, let their blood subside, and set their minds at ease. Only Skallagrim Lambstail reserved his trust, for Eric had given his trust to oaths before, and been betrayed: the memory of his and Eric's misadventure aboard the Raven was fresh in his mind. Furthermore, he believed Eric too given to trust the lovely face of a fair woman, whereas Skallagrim knew women to be treacherous and subtle. Yet he kept his own council, swearing only to himself that if need be, he would save Eric from the consequences of his foolish trust.

Indeed, Skallagrim had the right of it - this was but a ruse. For scouts of the village had spied the longship coming by sea, and had carried this news back to their homes forthwith; and as it happened, many of their men and their chief were away at war themselves. What the purpose of that war was, I know not; but it was one of the many conflicts that robbed the Irish of their might and vigor, and left them ill-prepared to resist the efforts of proud warriors of the north.

And the Irishmen turned to Dubheasa for council, for her mind was cunning. Indeed, even when her husband the chief was present, it was well-known that the greater wisdom resided in her.. And she spoke to the people, saying, "Alas, we are sorely tested, for if we stand against Eric Brighteyes and his men we shall surely die or worse; and if we yield our wealth and goods to him we shall fall into poverty and starvation regardless, for the year has not been good, and why should they not visit us again when we have given up our wealth once already? Or worse, they may return when our warriors be present; for our men are proud and would surely put up arms against the barbarians, and if there be any truth of the stories that reach us of this champion Eric, then they would surely fall in a hopeless cause."

And the people of the village lamented and asked what to do, for they knew the viking ship drew nearer by the moment. And Dubheasa proposed their present course: that they should accept the Icelanders into their midst at first, and then conspire to put an end to the matter.

Now, while the people of the town prepared the feasts, Eric and his men were entertained by poetry and music, and it was a lively day indeed. The men gave their greatest favor to a pair of singers who came before them, sisters who were exceedingly like one another in visage and quite talented in song. Then came food and wine, plate upon plate of fine fish and fresh vegetables; and they knew not that the draughts were drugged with certain herbs that would pull them toward deeper slumber.

Thus Eric and his men partook of that which was brought before them, save only that Skallagrim the Grim did not drink the wine; for he had sworn a heavy oath to his master and blood-brother Eric that he would not, as it had happened before that he had fallen into a Baresark-like rage when in his cups. But neither did Skallagrim announce this to his hosts, for he did not trust them; and all his comrades knew already of his particular circumstance. So he quietly drank water as the good cheer grew around him; and when late in the night the vikings began to fall upon the floor in slumber, Skallagrim merely continued to brood quietly over his water, head down, so that it appeared to the watching Irishmen that he too was in a sort of stupor.

"Now," said the villagers, "the time has come to strike, lest these vikings take from us what little we possess." And creeping out with axes in hand, the men who remained in the village made ready to lay about at the necks of the Icelanders, waiting only for the signal.

But the signal never came, for Skallagrim rose up with a roar and lay about him with astounding strength and vigor, such that those who did not fall before him fled the room in alarm. Now some of the vikings began to rouse themselves in confusion, even from the influence of the wine and the herbs.

"Skallagrim!" exclaimed Eric, rising quite wroth at the sound of battle. "Hast thou drank wine and fallen again into a rage? For if thou hast done so and assaulted our hosts, I shall put thee down like the outlaw dog thou are."

"I forgive you thy suspicion, my friend," replied Skallagrim, "for a know I have given thee cause for that fear. But if you look upon the fallen Irish you will see the weapons they had in hand, for they broke the laws of hospitality and sought to destroy us in a cowardly betrayal."

And Eric, seeing the evidence about him and the truth in Skallagrim's word, was grim indeed, for to attack one's guest is the gravest of crimes; besides which, this was the closest he had come to death for some time, and despite the dishonor of his exile, he wished dearly to live and return to his beloved. Thus, he took up his sword and rallied his men around him, and led them out of the great roundhouse to battle.

Now the Irishmen's hope of victory was lost; for they were not warriors, but village fishermen, and they were out-armed and out-armored. Had all of them come together, still they could not have stood against Eric alone with only his sword Whiteflame for company. Much less were they able to stand against the wrathful vikings. The best that can be said is that they died as men, rather than lived as oathbreakers.

The battle being quickly settled, Eric gave instruction as to their next step. "We are just as needful of rest and supplies as before, but mayhap we will find a warmer welcome elsewhere if we bring with us gold and other valuable goods. Therefore quickly search the village; and since we cannot trust these villagers not to commit more treachery, seize them and return them as well when thou findest them."

Erik's companions did so, and in good discipline. Soon, the greatest number of warriors gathered back at the roundhouse where they had taken their feast with the spoils they had procured, leaving a score of men to continue to patrol the village, to seek out wealth not yet gathered, and to ensure that no further swords were raised against them.

But the village had no great wealth of jewels; and the spoils, when gathered, made but a paltry pile of metal. Nor were their provisions well-stocked. But a crowd of villagers was gathered without, for the battle had been so short, and the slaughter of their men so shocking, that the young and the women of the village scarcely knew what to do, and few had had the mind to flee the village at full speed. Thus most of them had followed meekly when a viking saw and commanded them, that they would not be harmed further; though some attempted to flee and were largely run down and seized. And the men having fallen, those who remained were mostly children, and the old, and women.

Now, it has been said that Eric, being the worthiest of all men, never did any base deed in all his days of viking, nor hurt the weak, nor refused peace to him who prayed it, nor lifted sword against prisoner or wounded foe; and there is some truth in this, but it is not the whole truth. For Eric's men, though they loved him dearly, were cast more in the viking mold than he. They followed Eric not only to support him in his exile, but out of love of battle, and of the plunder and pillage that warriors may win; and they did not possess his gentle heart.

Hereupon a warrior of the band named Verner spoke. "There is little profit in the cold, hard wealth gripped from the ground in this town; but I see a great bounty in tempting flesh yonder." At this he indicated the women in the crowd, who were weeping and lamenting, clutching each other with stricken faces. "And we are not so far from the market at Dublin, wherein such charms may be traded for a currency that is easier to take a-viking."

They all saw the wisdom in this. The men of working age all being away to war, or else their bodies cooling upon the ground, and the old and the young making poor slaves, the unfortunate maidens and wives were now the greatest wealth of the town. The men swiftly separated them from their other captives, and brought them into the roundhouse. Even Eric, who was of tender heart when faced with a weeping woman, acknowledged that to become a slave was the fate that the Norns had laid out for some; though he took exception to those not yet of age, as well as those nursing babes, and allowed them to go in peace.

So here were their prizes; yet Eric and his men surely could not depart until the morn. Therefore, as the gods had ordained when they lit the flames of passion in the loins of men, the crew showed great eagerness to take their pleasure of the women assembled before them.

Indeed there were many women there fair of face and hair, that men wished to see below them, between their legs; or of slim beauty that inspired a man to sheathe themselves tightly within their bodies; or of lush, fertile figure, who would surely be fruitful fields for men to sow their seed.

The men having fought fiercely and risked their lives following his word, Eric could not keep from them what their stout hearts and strong arms had won. But he himself demurred, saying,

"I do not deny you your revels, but I may not myself partake, for I made a promise to my beloved to be true to her until I may return triumphant from mine exile."

At this Skallagrim, his second, snorted; for Skallagrim, bold and in some ways wild, feared not to speak his thoughts to Eric in most matters. And Eric took not offense, for the two were great companions, even at this time before Skallagrim risked his life for Eric upon the coast of England. And what Skallagrim said was:

"If this is what love of a woman does to a red-blooded man of valour, I thank the gods that fate hath parted me from mine own wife. Thou art mighty indeed, my lord, but it does a man's health no good if he not eat; nor if he not drink; nor if he not sleep. Likewise thy body would thank thee for the exercise to thy lordly rod."

"I have come this far denying temptations," countered Eric, "and I hear no men say that my health suffers." His tone showed irritation, however; for in truth, it was not the easiest thing for a lusty man such as he to never touch a woman, and he liked not to be reminded of the matter.

"Yet it is not what we who love you would wish for thee. Indeed, thou shouldst take the worthiest prize of all of us!" At this Skallagrim cast his gaze toward Dubheasa, who though kneeling upon the floor with their other captives, still held her head up proudly, and whose eyes blazed with fire. "I remind you that all the maids we have gathered here gave false hospitality and then turned on us: a grievous crime in the eyes of the gods, as vile as that done to me by my former wife when she became the lover of Ospakar Blacktooth. And foremost among the criminals was this whore, for if I take things rightly, it was her command to commit this vile treachery. Such a crime deserves swift justice; though they did not honor us as guests, now having conquered them, it is surely the gods' will that they honor us as men."

"So they may honor all of you; but for my part, I have plighted my troth, and may not betray Gudruda," Eric insisted stubbornly.

"If love has no place in thy use of this treacherous bitch, as I assure you it will have no place in mine, then surely there is no betrayal," returned Skallagrim.

"I take not thy meaning."

"Let me put it thus: when you kiss thy Gudruda, dost thou cherish the moment because she is fair only?"

"She is indeed the fairest of women; but truly, I love her for reasons beyond her beauty."

"And if thou took pleasure of this woman, fair though she be, wouldst thou love her?"

"Nay; I could never love another beyond Gudruda."

"Then in thy heart, faithful thou shalt remain, whatever else thou doest."

At more sober times Eric might have found fault with this logic; but being still half-drunk it seemed to him to hold wisdom. He looked down upon the woman Dubheasa, who had welcomed him, served him his wine and almost brought about his early doom and the doom of those he held dear, and he saw in her dark hair and firey eyes a certain likeness to Gudruda's sister, Swanhild the Fatherless, whose own treacheries he had more than once been forced to leave unpunished for the sake of peace. And he was filled with an unmistakable lust, and even a measure of rage.

"Skallagrim, I take thy words to heart; for I have known other women treacherous and false in my brief life, to whom a humbling would not go amiss. It is not in my heart to leave all this task to thee and to our men. Yet neither will I touch another woman myself, for I swore to be true to Gudruda."

"Then what is thy will, master?" called out Skallagrim, in consternation. "Thy words go to war with each other."

"Her words have been shown to be false and vile; therefore let her make other recompense with her mouth. And for myself, I shall not lay a finger on her." Thus was Eric's declaration.

At this many eyes, both of the other women and of the lusty vikings, fell upon Dubheasa. Her proud face flushed red with anger, yet she let it not show upon her face, for she was proud indeed. Yet her sense was stronger than her pride; and she knew that to oppose her captors now could only be folly. Thus she slowly approached Eric and fell to her knees before him; yet she hesitated before lifting the bottom of his tunic, and he, as sworn, made no movement to assist her.

"Look not so sad, sweet," Skallagrim instructed, in as cheerful a tone as that grim man ever mustered. "For you take as thy lover a great man and a hero."

"No doubt she is reluctant to break her marriage vows," proposed one of Eric's men.

"That should be no obstacle, since she has broken a sacred vow already this very evening," quoth another.