The murmurs now chorused agreement; several cheered, encouraging the king aloud. Most remained silent, but everyone was intent, eyes and ears keen, eager for their great Jarl to declare what had moved him to summon the theng. Seeing that he had them on his side, Harald moved to the heart of his concern.
Now, I have heard of warriors who can leap from one horse to another in full gallop and never miss a stride. This feat Harald now performed. "Brothers," he said, "I know that the yearly tribute weighs heavily on your shoulders. I know that such a burden is difficult to bear."
The king said this with convincing sympathy, as if it were some other lord that had imposed this onerous weight upon his people. He then declared, with an expression of utter conviction, that he would be a vile king indeed if he stood by and did nothing to ease the weight of law from his people's shoulders.
This produced a minor commotion as the people tried to work out what Harald could possibly mean. "Therefore," the king said, "I have devised a means by which the tribute…" The king's listeners leaned forward expectantly. "-by which the tribute may be forgiven."
Sure, this caused such a stir among the listeners, the king was forced to repeat his astonishing decree, not once only, but three times. "You have heard me, heya," he assured them, shaking his fists in the air. "Your tribute will be forgiven."
Harald allowed a moment for this news to make its way to the rearward ranks and to be passed to those standing beyond the stone circle. He stood erect, fists on hips, his smile broad, red hair gleaming in the sun; he fairly beamed confidence, assurance streaming like heat from a flame.
The king went on to describe how he had set his mind on a venture which would bring wealth and riches to every free man in Daneland. He threw his arms wide and begged them to hear him out. The shouting all but overwhelmed his booming bull voice. Harald begged them to listen; he pleaded for their indulgence, and told them that he had determined to go to Miklagard, where there was silver and gold beyond measure, and where even the lowest slave was far wealthier than the richest king of Skania.
The people were amazed at the king's audacity: Did you hear? Miklagard! they said. The king is going to Miklagard. Think of that!
"Now I ask you, brothers," Harald continued, his bull voice thundering above the excitement his announcement had created, "is it right for the slaves of the south to enjoy more wealth than the kings of the north? Is it right that we, Odin's favoured children, should break our backs in toil-ploughing, reaping, chopping wood, drawing water-while brown slaves sit idle in the shade of fruiting trees?"
He let the question hang in the air to do its work.
"No!" cried a voice. It sounded very like Hrothgar to me. "It is not right!" shouted another. And everyone seemed to agree that this state of affairs could not be allowed to continue.
Harald waved his hands for order. He continued, speaking reasonably, and somewhat reluctantly, as if merely acquiescing to the prevailing view-a view which he had no great wish to further himself. He spoke of how he had vowed in his heart to ease the burdens of his people. He said he would go to Miklagard, if that is what they wanted, and he would bring back the wealth of the southern slaves. He would bring back this wealth and use it to better the lives of the Danefolk. He would bring back such wealth that they would not have to pay tribute due him. He would bring back wealth to make even the greediest among them satisfied. He would do all this and more, if that is what they wanted.
He thrust his hand towards the river where his huge new ship lay at anchor. That ship, that very ship, he declared, was the swiftest of any ever built in Skania. He would go with this selfsame ship and he would lead the war host to the city of gold. And he, Harald Bull-Roar, would fill that great fast ship with such treasures as would make all other kings sick with jealousy when they saw what wealth his jarls and freemen would enjoy.
The people could not take such amazing good fortune quietly. They hugged themselves and one another, and cried out and leapt with joy at the prospect of so much wealth within such easy reach. They acclaimed their king and his wisdom and foresight. Here was a king, truly, who knew what was best for his people.
"For this reason," Harald said when the outcry had spent itself once more, "I will forgive the yearly tribute, which is due me as your lord!"
Again, the king was overwhelmed by a seatide of acclamation, and was forced to wait until it had abated before wading on.
"I will forgive the yearly tribute," he repeated, speaking slowly. "Not for one year only will I forgive the tribute. Not for two years! Not for three years-or even four!" he cried. "But for five years will I forgive the tribute to any man who will arm himself and follow me to Miklagard."
