There was murmuring at this, and some of the men were heard to say that this was a new idea, that a man should pay to be baptized, and that a penny was no small sum.
“I am not forcing anyone to do this,” said Orm. “Anyone who thinks this suggestion unreasonable can save his money by meeting me in combat as soon as the baptizing is finished. If he wins, nobody is going to make him pay; and if he loses, he will also save his money.”
Most of the men thought that this was well spoken, and several of them challenged any member of the crew who had a mind to be closefisted to declare himself. But the ones to whom these words were addressed grinned weakly, thinking that they would have to make the best of whatever advantages their money might bring them.
Gudmund and Orm each took one of the god-men aboard his ship, the elder Bishop and his suite going with Gudmund, and the Bishop of London with Orm, who also took with him Brother Willibald. The Bishops blessed their ships, prayed for a lucky voyage, and set up their standards; then the ships put out and at once got a good breeze and fine weather, which made the men regard the Bishops with increased respect. They entered the river Thames on the flood tide, spent the night in the estuary, and next morning, in a clear dawn light, began to row up the river.
People stood at their hut doors among the trees that lined the riverbank, staring at the ships fearfully, and men fishing in the river prepared to flee as the ships hove into sight; they were calmed, however, by the sight of the Bishops’ standards. Here and there they saw burned villages lying deserted after one of the Vikings’ visits; then, farther up, they came to a place where the river was blocked by four rows of piles, with only a small channel left free in the middle. Three large watch-ships lay there, filled with armed men. The Vikings were forced to stop rowing, for the watch-ships stood in the midst of the channel with all their men prepared for battle, and blocked further progress.
“Are you blind?” roared Gudmund across the water, “or have you lost your wits? Do you not see that we come with a shield of peace on our masthead, and have holy bishops aboard?”
“Do not try to fool us,” replied a voice from the watch-ships. “We want no pirates here.”
“We have your own King’s envoys aboard,” roared Gudmund.
“We know you,” came the reply. “You are full of cunning and devilry.”
“We are coming to be baptized,” shouted Orm impatiently.
At this, there was loud laughter on the watch-ships, and a voice shouted back: “Have you grown tired of your lord and master the Devil?”
“Yes!” roared Orm furiously, and at this the laughter on the other ships was redoubled.
Then it looked as though there was going to be fighting, for Orm was enraged by their laughter and bade Rapp heave to and grapple the nearest ship, which was doing most of the laughing. But by this time the Bishops had hastily donned their robes, and now, raising their staffs aloft, they cried to both sides to be still. Orm was unwilling to obey, and Gudmund, too, thought that this was asking too much. Then the Bishops cried across the water to their countrymen, addressing them sternly, so that at last they realized that the holy men were what they appeared to be, and not prisoners or pirates in disguise. So the ships were allowed to pass, and nothing came of the encounter, apart from smart exchanges of insults between the rival crews as the Vikings rowed past.
Orm stood with a spear in his hand, staring at the watch-ships, still white with wrath.
“I should have liked to teach them some manners,” he said to Brother Willibald, who was standing beside him, and who had not shown any evidence of fear when the fighting had seemed about to begin.
“He who lives by the sword shall perish by the sword,” replied the little priest. “Thus it is written in the holy book, where all wisdom is. How could you have come to King Harald’s daughter if you had fought with King Ethelred’s ships? But you are a man of violence, and will always remain one. And you will suffer sorely for it.”
Orm sighed and threw down his spear.
“When I have won her,” he said, “I shall be a man of peace.”
But the little priest shook his head sadly.
“Can the leopard change its spots?” he said. “Or the blue man his skin? Thus, too, is it written in the holy book. But thank God and the blessed Bishops that they have helped you now.”
Soon they rounded a curve in the river and saw London lying before them on the right bank. It was a sight that struck the Vikings speechless with wonder, for the town was so great that, from the river, they could not see its end, and the priests told them it had been calculated that more than thirty thousand men dwelt there. Many of the Vikings found it difficult to imagine what so many men could find to live on in such a crowded place, with no fields or cattle. But the wise ones among them knew and said that such town-dwellers were an evil and cunning race, who understood well how to earn a livelihood from honest countryfolk without themselves ever setting their hands to a plow or a flail. It was therefore, these wise men argued, a good thing for bold sailors to pay occasional visits to these people and relieve them of what they had stolen from other folk. So they all gazed spellbound at the town as they rowed slowly up against the tide, thinking that here indeed there must be riches worth the taking.
But Orm and Rapp the One-Eyed said that they had seen bigger cities, and that this was only a village compared with Córdoba.
So they rowed on toward the great bridge, which was built of huge tree trunks, and which was so high that the biggest ships could row under it, once they had lowered their masts. Many people rushed out to see them, including armed men, yelling at the tops of their voices about heathens and devils; but they broke into shouts of jubilation when they heard their Bishops cry resonantly to them that all was well and that peace had been concluded with the men from the sea. As the ships approached, people crowded on to the bridge to catch a glimpse of them at close quarters. When the crews caught sight of several fine young women among them, they shouted enthusiastically to them to make haste and come down, promising that they would find good prizes aboard, silver and merriment and bold men, as well as plenty of priests to pardon their sins in the best Christian manner. One or two of the young women giggled coyly and answered that they had a mind to do as the men bade them, but that it was a long way to jump; whereupon they were immediately grabbed by the hair by furious kinsfolk, who promised them the birch on their bare bodies for indulging in such lewd chatter with heathen men.
Brother Willibald shook his head sadly and said that young people were very difficult nowadays, even in Christian communities. And Rapp, too, standing at his steering-oar, shook his head as they passed beneath the bridge, and muttered sullenly that women were always full of useless chatter, wherever you found them.
“They ought to have kept their mouths shut,” he said, “and to have jumped at once, as they were told to do.”
They were now approaching Westminster and could see tall spires rising up behind the trees. The Bishops clothed themselves once more in all their finery; and the priests attending them began to chant an ancient hymn, which St. Columbanus had been wont to sing when baptizing heathens.
Lo! Here’s a host from darkness won
—Do not reject them, Lord!—