“I shall pay whatever price you name,” said Orm. “It is no more than right that a large sum should be demanded for King Harald’s grandson.”
“I have not myself seen the boy,” said Felimid, “for I do not bother myself with the thefts and rapes of my subjects, except where absolutely necessary. They are always capturing men and treasure at these weirs. But it is time for us to settle this matter without delay.”
They went out of the tent, and Felimid shouted orders to this man and that. The two other chieftains were awakened, and emerged sleepy-eyed; then, when they and Felimid had seated themselves on a grass slope, all the people in the camp came running to the place and grouped themselves around them in a tight circle. Then the two prisoners were led forth by their captors. They were both pale, and Blackhair had blood in his hair; but their faces lit up as they saw Orm, and the first thing that Black-hair said was: “Where is your sword?”
“I came here unarmed, to obtain your release,” said Orm. “Because it was my fault that you were captured.”
“They came on us from behind among the rocks,” said Black-hair sadly, “and we could offer no resistance.”
“They clubbed us,” said Glad Ulf, “after which we knew nothing until we awoke to find ourselves bound upon horses.”
Felimid now spoke to the other chieftains and to the boys’ captors, and a long argument followed as to the amount of the ransom Orm should pay.
“It is our custom,” explained Felimid to Orm, “that all those who have taken part in the fighting shall have their share of the ransom, while those who have actually captured the prisoners shall have a double share. I have told them that Blackhair is your son, and that you are a chieftain among your people; but I have not told them that he is a great King’s grandson, for if they knew this there would be no end to their demands.”
At length it was agreed that they should ride to the ship the next day, and that Glad Ulf should be ransomed with as much silver as could be contained in four of the Patzinaks’ tall hats. For Blackhair, though, they demanded his weight in silver.
Orm thought this an exorbitant sum to demand, even for so important a person as his son. But when he remembered his feelings of the morning, after he had learned that Blackhair had been captured, he reflected that, on the whole, things had turned out better than he could have expected.
“He is sparely built,” said Felimid consolingly. “You would have to dive deeper into those sacks of yours if you yourself had to be weighed. And a son is worth more than any amount of silver. I can see from his looks that he is Ylva’s child. It is a great grief to me that I have no son. I had one, but he died young, and now I have only daughters. Ferdiad’s sons will have to succeed me as chieftains.”
Later that day the Patzinaks went to the camp which the Northmen had pitched by the weirs, to fetch their wounded. Their dead they left lying where they had fallen, for it was not their custom to bury them, save when a great chieftain had died. But they were vexed that the Northmen had taken away their dead, thus depriving the men who had killed them of their heads, and declared that it was only right that Orm should pay them for robbing them of their lawful trophies.
Felimid upbraided them for making this demand, which he found unreasonable. When, however, they persisted, he said to Orm that it would be unwise to press the point too strongly, for their greed for heads was a kind of madness with them, against which no amount of reason would prevail.
Orm disliked acceding to this request, and thought that these Patzinaks looked likely to skin him to the bone; but since he was in their hands, he thought it would be unwise of him to refuse. He reflected miserably that his silver-sacks would become much lightened by the time he had paid the large sum demanded for the boys’ ransom and had given each of his men their share. After he had pondered the matter for a while, however, he hit upon a solution of the problem.
“I shall pay them for my men’s heads, since you so counsel me,” he said, “and will give them a sum the size of which will surprise them. When we were taking the sacks out of the river, we were in a great hurry, for we feared we might be attacked and outnumbered. In our haste we burst one of the sacks, so that most of its contents ran out into the water; and it contained nothing but fair silver coins. We had no time to gather up this money, so that at least a third of it is still lying there on the riverbed; and if your men are not afraid of water, they will be able to fish themselves great wealth there.”
He described the place, and how they would easily find it by the stones lying on the rock-flats, where they had put them after dragging them out of the water. Felimid translated his words to the gathering, and before he had finished, all the young men of the tribe were rushing to their horses so as to be the first to arrive at the place and dive for these unusual fish.
When these questions had been decided, Felimid suggested that they should dine and make merry together, for old times’ sake. He spoke much of King Harald and of his brother Ferdiad, and recalled the time he had visited Orm at Gröning and helped Father Willibald to convert the heathens after dinner in the church.
“But now that the Erin Masters have ceased to jest,” he said, “there are no good jesters left in the world. For we had no brothers, but were the last of the line of O’Flann, who had jested before kings ever since the days of King Conchobar MacNessa. In my loneliness here I have tried to teach some of the young Patzinaks something of my art, but have failed. The boys can do nothing at all, and when I turned in despair to the girls and tried to teach them to dance like a master jester, I found them too stupid to be able to follow my instructions, though I took pains with them and showed them how everything should be done. They were not quite so hopeless as the boys of this tribe, however, and one of them got as far as being able to dance reasonably well on her hands, and pipe the while. But that was the most she could attain to; and neither her piping nor the movements of her legs were all that could be desired.”
He spat meditatively and shook his head.
“Although she was but a novice in the art, and will never be more,” he said, “she became so vain of her supposed skill that she performed incessantly, until at last I grew tired of her and packed her off as a gift to Gzak. This Gzak you have doubtless heard of, for he is one of the three mightiest men in the whole world. He is the overlord of all the Patzinaks, and mostly grazes his flocks around Krim. Being a simple soul, who knows little about the arts, he was delighted with the girl. Then he sent her to the Emperor at Miklagard, as a thanks-gift for all the friendship-money that the Emperor had sent him. In Miklagard there must indeed be a dearth of dancers and jesters, for she danced before the Emperor himself and his court and won great praise and fame until, after a year, her vanity became such that she died for it. But my troubles are not at an end, for last winter Gzak sent messengers to me bidding me send him two new dancers of equal skill, to replace her at Miklagard; and my whole time is spent in training them. Their stupidity and clumsiness nauseate me, though I chose them carefully, and they are nothing for you to see, who have watched me and my brother display our art. If you would care to look at them, though, I have no objection to their appearing; they may amuse your sons.”
Orm said that he would like to see them, and Felimid shouted orders. When the members of the tribe heard what he said, they began to clap and cheer.
“The whole tribe is proud of them,” said Felimid dolefully, “and their mothers wash them in sweet milk every morning, to make their skins clear. But they will never learn to dance properly, whatever pains I may expend upon them.”