One morning, off Ösel, they were attacked by Estonian pirates in four small ships full of howling men. Spof saw them as they emerged out of the mist, and straightway bade the men at the oars pull as hard as they could; then, as the pirates drew abreast, two off either bow, and prepared to grapple, he swung the helm smartly round and rammed one of them so that those aboard her had to pull smartly for the shore, sinking swiftly. One of the others succeeded in grappling Orm’s ship, but no sooner had they done this than Sone’s seven sons swarmed over into the pirate ship, shieldless and whooping triumphantly, and hewed about them so furiously with sword and ax that they cleared the ship of its occupants well-nigh unaided. When the other pirates saw this happen, they realized that they had encountered berserks, and rowed hastily away.
Sone’s sons were much praised for this feat, but several of them climbed back over the gunwale in an ill humor, cursing the old man their father. One of them had lost two fingers, another’s cheek had been split by a spear, a third had had his nose pulped, and scarcely one of them had come through unscathed. Those of them who had been wounded most severely said that the old man was to blame for this, having lured them by his prophecy into attempting too much; for they had assumed that they would suffer no hurt. But the others spoke against them, saying that the old man had promised no more than that seven of them should return home alive; he had said nothing about wounds and scratches. It looked as though there was going to be fighting between the brothers, but Orm and Toke calmed them with wise words, and they proceeded on their journey without more incident.
They had good weather all the way from Ösel to the river mouth and made the whole journey under sail. Meanwhile Orm measured out silver to every man aboard, both their hire-money and their share of the treasure. No one was discontented, for he gave each man more than he had expected to receive.
One morning at dawn, as Toke stood at the steering-oar and the rest of the men were sleeping, Orm seated himself beside him, and it was plain from his face that he was heavy-hearted.
“Most men would be merry in your clothes,” said Toke. “Everything has gone well, you have won a great treasure, and we shall soon be home.”
“My mind is troubled,” said Orm, “though I cannot say why. Perhaps it is the gold that makes me uneasy.”
“How can the gold make you uneasy?” said Toke. “You are now as rich as a king, and kings do not hang their heads because their wealth is great.”
“There is too much of it,” said Orm gloomily. “You and Olof shall both have your good shares, but even so, too much will remain for me. I have deceived the men, telling them that the chests contain trash for women, and my lie will bring me bad luck.”
“You meet bad luck before it comes,” said Toke. “None of us yet knows what the chests contain; it may be only silver. It was wise of you to say that they contained women’s trash, and I should have done the same in your clothes; for even the best of men become crazed when they know that gold is near.”
“Before God,” said Orm, “I now make this vow. I shall open one of these chests, and if it contains gold, I shall divide it among the men. We shall then have three chests left, one of which shall be yours, one Olof’s, and the third mine. Now that I have said that, I feel better.”
“You shall do as you please,” said Toke. “As for me, I shall no longer need to be a skin-trader.”
Orm fetched one of the small chests, set it down on the deck between them, and cut away the red ropes that were sealed with the Emperor’s seal. The chest was strongly locked, but Orm drove his knife and Toke’s under the lid and leaned upon them with all his weight until the lock broke. Then he lifted the lid, and the two of them stared silently into the chest.
“Not Fafnir1
In time of yore
Guarded e’er
A brood more bonny,”
said Toke reverently; and Orm remained silent, though usually, when Toke wrought a verse, it was his habit to reply with one as good or better.
The sun had by now risen, and its rays struck into the chest. It was filled with gold, which the river water had not tarnished. Most of it was coins, of many different sorts and sizes, filling the chest to its rim; but among them many precious ornaments lay bedded—rings great and small, chains, necklaces, clasps, bracelets, and suchlike, marvelously worked—“like lovely pieces of pork,” thought Toke, “in a soup of good pease.”
“This trash will please our women well enough when we bring it home,” he said. “Indeed, I fear the sight of it may make them mad.”
“It will be no easy task to share this out,” said Orm.
The men had by now begun to wake up. Orm told them that one of the chests of women’s trash was to be shared out among them, and that its contents were better than he had expected them to be.
The division of the gold lasted the whole day. Each man received eighty-six coins, of varying sizes; the same amount was held back for each man who had been killed, to be given to his heirs, and Spof got a helmsman’s quadruple share. Sharing out the ornaments fairly proved a more difficult task, and sometimes they had no alternative but to chop rings and bracelets into pieces, to make sure that nobody received less than the next man; though often the men bargained with one another, giving coins in order that they might have the whole of some trinket that had particularly taken their fancy. One or two arguments began, but Orm said that they would have to wait till they reached land before fighting them out. Several of the men had never seen gold coins before; and when Spof told them how much silver went to a piece of gold, they sat gazing foolishly at the deck, with their heads in their hands, unable to calculate how rich they were, though they racked their brains to do so.
When everything had at last been shared out and the chest was empty, many of the men set to work with needle and twine to enlarge the pockets of their belts. Others rubbed and polished their gold, to make it brighter; and there was great cheerfulness among them as they talked of their luck and the fine homecoming they would have, and the deep drinking that would then take place.
They reached the river mouth and rowed upstream until they came to the land of a farmer whom Orm knew. There they dragged the ship on to the bank, amid the crunch of fresh night-ice, shedded her, and went about hiring horses. Some of the men departed for their homes, but the majority remained.
Spof was uncertain what to do. It might be best for him, he told Orm, to stay with this farmer, who was said to be a good man, until the spring, when he would be able to find a ship to take him home to Gotland.
“But it will be a sleepless winter for me,” he added, shaking his head gloomily. “For what farmer is so good that he will not instantly kill me in my sleep as soon as he discovers what I have in my belt? Besides which, all men have a tendency to kill Gothlanders without asking them questions, because of the wealth they think we all possess.”
“You shall come with me,” said Orm, “and be my guest for the winter. It is no more than you have deserved. Then you can return to this place when spring comes and find a ship home.”
Spof thanked him for this offer and said that he would gladly accept it.
They rode their horses away; and it was difficult to guess whether Orm or Olof Summerbird was the more anxious to see Gröning again.
They came to a place where the road forked, and one of the paths led to Sone’s house. But the seven brothers stood sourly scratching their heads. Orm asked them what might be troubling them.
“We are lucky now,” they replied, “more so than other men. For we are rich and know that we cannot die before we reach home. But as soon as we see the old man again, the spell is broken, and we can die as easily as anyone else. Before we left home, we had no fear of death; but things are different now, when we have so much gold to live for.”