Then he opened his tunic and drew out the chain, which he wore around his neck, and handed it to Sigurd Buesson. Sigurd passed it to Hallbjörn, the groom of the bedchamber, who sat on his right, and Hallbjörn passed it across Bishop Poppo’s place to King Harald; for the Bishop’s place now stood empty, he having had his fill of the Yuletide drinking and being now confined to his bed, where Brother Willibald was tending him.
King Harald measured the chain, and held it against the light, that he might the better examine its beauty. Then he announced that he had spent his whole life collecting jewels and precious ornaments, but that he could not remember ever having seen a finer work of art than this. The chain consisted of thick lozenges of pure gold, each lozenge being long and narrow, a good thumb in length and the breadth of a thumbnail at its middle point, where it was widest, and from which it tapered inwards toward its ends; and each lozenge was joined to its fellow by a small gold ring. The chain comprised thirty-six such lozenges; every first lozenge had a precious red stone set in its center, and every second, a green.
When Styrbjörn held it in his hand, he said that this was worthy to have come from Weland’s smithy; he added, however, that there might be articles of equal beauty in his uncle’s coffers. When it reached King Sven, he observed that it was the sort of prize for which warriors gladly gave their blood, and the daughters of kings their maidenheads.
Then Thorkel the Tall examined the chain, and after he had praised it as the others had done, he leaned down the table to hand it back to Orm. As he did so, Sigtrygg thrust out his hand to take it; but Orm was quicker, and his hand reached it first.
“Who are you to snatch at it?” he said to Sigtrygg. “I have not heard that you are a king or a jarl, and I do not want it to be handled by any but them.”
“I wish to fight with you for this ornament,” said Sigtrygg.
“I can believe that,” replied Orm, “for you are plainly a covetous and unmannerly churl. My advice to you is to keep your fingers to yourself and not to meddle with people who know how to behave themselves.”
“You are afraid to fight with me,” thundered Sigtrygg. “But fight you shall, or else surrender your chain to me; for you have long stood in debt to me, and I demand this chain in payment.”
“You have a weak head for ale, and it makes you talk foolishly,” said Orm, “for I never saw you in my life before this feast began, so that I cannot possibly be in your debt. The best thing you can do,” he added sharply, “is to sit still and hold your tongue, before I beg King Harald’s leave to tweak your nose where you sit. I am a man of peace, and loath to dirty my fingers on such a snout as yours; but even the most patient of men would feel an urge to teach you manners.”
Now, Sigtrygg was a renowned warrior, feared by all for his strength and ferocity, and by no means accustomed to being addressed in such a manner as this. He leaped up from his bench bellowing like a bull and pouring out a flood of abuse; but louder still rang King Harald’s voice through the hall as he called furiously for silence and demanded to know the cause of this disturbance.
“Your good ale, O King,” said Orm, “together with this man’s greed for gold, have combined to drive his wits out of him; for he screams that he will have my chain and claims that I stand in his debt, though I have never before set eyes on him.”
King Harald said angrily that Sven’s men were always making trouble, and he demanded sternly of Sigtrygg what had driven him to take leave of his senses and lose control of himself, when he had heard it plainly proclaimed that both the peace of Christ and the peace of King Harald were to be respected in this hall.
“Royal King,” said Sigtrygg, “let me explain how this whole matter stands, and you will see that my claim is just. Seven years ago I suffered a cruel wrong, and now, here at your feast, I have heard that these two men were among the perpetrators of it. That summer we were sailing home from the southern lands in four ships, Bork of Hven, Silverpalle, Fare-Wide Svensson, and myself, when we met three ships sailing southwards. We held converse with them, and from this man Toke’s story I now know whose ships they were. Now, on my ship there served a Spanish slave, a dark-haired, yellow-skinned man. While we were speaking with the strangers, this man jumped overboard, dragging with him my brother-in-law Oskel, a good man; and nothing more was seen of either of them. But now we have all heard that this slave was taken up on board their ship, and that he was this man whom they call Solomon; and that he served them well indeed. These two men who sit here, Orm and Toke, were the men who pulled him out of the water; we have heard as much from their own lips. For such a slave I could have got a fine price. This man Orm is now the chieftain of such as survive from Krok’s company, and it is no more than justice that he should repay me for the loss I thereby incurred. I therefore demand of you, Orm, that you surrender me this chain in payment for the loss of my slave and my brother-in-law, peacefully and of your own free will; failing which, that you meet me in single combat outside this hall, on trodden earth, with shield and sword, now and without delay. Whether or not you give me the chain, I shall in any case kill you; for you have said that you wish to tweak my nose—and to me, Sigtrygg, the son of Stigand, and kinsman of King Sven, no man has ever addressed impertinences and lived to see the end of the day on which he uttered them.”
“Two things only have kept my temper cool as I listened to your words,” replied Orm. “The first is that the chain is mine and shall remain so, whoever may or may not have jumped from your ship into the sea seven years ago. And the second is that Blue-Tongue and I shall have a say in the matter of which of us two shall live to see tomorrow’s sunrise. But first let us hear King Harald’s pleasure regarding this affair.”
Everyone in the hall was happy to see that there was a good prospect of an armed combat; for a fight between two such men as Orm and Sigtrygg was sure to be worth the watching. Both King Sven and Styrbjörn expressed their opinion that this would add pleasant variety to the Yuletide drinking; but King Harald sat pondering the matter deeply, stroking his beard and wearing an expression of perplexed uncertainty.
At length he said: “This is a difficult case on which to pronounce judgment. I think it doubtful whether Sigtrygg can fairly claim compensation from Orm for a loss that he sustained through no fault of Orm’s. On the other hand, it cannot be denied that no man may reasonably be expected to lose a good slave, to say nothing of a brother-in-law, without expecting to receive some compensation for his loss. In any case, now that insults have been exchanged, they are bound to fight it out as soon as they are out of my sight; and such a chain as Orm wears must surely have been the cause of many combats in the past, and will certainly be the cause of many more in the years to come. In the circumstances, therefore, I see no reason why they should not be permitted to settle it here, in armed combat, where we can all enjoy watching them. Therefore, Hallbjörn, see to it that a combat ring be trodden out and roped off here, outside our hall, where the ground is most even, and see to it also that it be well lit with flares and torches; and tell us as soon as it is ready.”
“King Harald,” said Orm, and his voice sounded strangely unhappy, “I am not willing to be a party to such a contest.”
They all stared at him in amazement, and Sigtrygg and a number of King Sven’s followers burst out laughing.
King Harald shook his head sadly and said: “If you are afraid to fight, then there is no alternative but that you surrender your chain to him and hope that it may divert his wrath. To my ears, your voice had a bolder tone in it than this a few minutes ago.”