"Greetings, friend," bawled the king. "We have been hearing of your skill and knowledge from your friends. They speak most highly of your shipwise abilities."
"If they do me honour, my thanks to them," replied the pilot with a small bow of his round, grizzled head. "If they do me insult, my curse on them. I am Njord, Jarl Harald, and my best greetings to you."
"Friend," said the king expansively, "it would cheer me to have you drink with me. Cup bearers, be about your work! More ol! Our bowls are empty and our throats are dry!" Turning to Njord, he said, "All this talk has made me hungry, too. Let us sit down and eat together, and you can tell me of your journeys."
"A man must be careful when sitting down with kings," observed Njord narrowly, "for it is a costly business paid out in life and limb."
I understood then why he was called Deep-Minded, for it soon became apparent that he believed himself a philosopher with a gift for expressing his insights in witty aphorisms.
The men around him stared, but the king threw back his head and laughed. "Too true, I fear," Harald conceded happily. "But let us hazard health and fortune, heya? Who can say but it may prove worth the risk."
Thorkel and I found a place for the king and his strange new friend. Gutrik, Snorri and the rest joined us, shoving aside others in order to remain near enough to reach the meat and ale that soon began appearing on the board. So we settled down for a meal that stretched all the way to dusk, and ended with the king and Njord exchanging solemn, if drunken, vows: the pilot to guide us past the treacherous cataracts, and the king to reward him handsomely out of the proceeds of his business venture. The precise nature of this venture, I noticed, Harald failed to articulate.
The small matter of Njord's obligation to lead his own jarl's ships on their homeward voyage was quickly overcome when Harald offered to repay the pilot's share of the summer's spoils as compensation for the loss of his services. The ship's master was summoned and quickly agreed; the bargain was struck on the spot.
Having obtained all he came for and more, the king was now eager to depart. Up he rose from the table, and hastened for the door, trailing a considerable body of serving men, each demanding payment and shouting at the top of his lungs to make himself heard above the others. The king's progress was halted at the door; he turned and reached into his belt and brought out a handful of silver. This he delivered to the foremost server, saying, "Share this out among yourselves as you deem best."
The serving men gaped in astonishment at the paltry reward and shouted all the more loudly. "This is our reward?" they shrieked incredulously. "A whole day's food and drink, for this?"
But the king merely raised his hand in admonishment as he stepped through the door. "Nay, I will hear no word of thanks. For the pleasure was mine alone. Farewell, my friends."
Njord nodded his head in admiration of Harald's aplomb. "There breathes a king indeed," he muttered.
Even though it meant exchanging one stench for another, it was good to be quit of the drinking hall, I thought, as we passed the wooden post of Odin with its rancid gifts. A whole day weltering in the sun had made the putrefying sacrifices most pungent. Yet, on the whole, the stink of rotting meat was preferable to the noisome stew of smoke, sweat, faeces, sour beer and vomit dished up in the drinking hall.
There was no one aboard ship but the guards-not the same ten who had been left behind to watch the vessels, for these had been replaced earlier in the day by kinsmen who had sated themselves on both cup and copulation, and who were now fast asleep on deck. The sleeping men were roused and commanded to retrieve their fellow shipmates.
Separating the Sea Wolves from the delights of Kiev proved far more difficult than anyone could have foreseen. The pleasure houses were large and contained many rooms-some of which were completely enclosed, for those seeking more private expression of the carnal arts-and each house and room had to be searched and the seafarer led or, more often, carried back to the waiting ships.
The moon had risen and gained its peak by the time all Harald's raiders were assembled once more and the ships pushed away from the bank. Fortunately, rowing was not required; the southward flow of the river carried us along. Thus, no one was forced to grapple an oar and disaster was held at bay.
