himself. "He who held England would have riches and might beyond reckoning. He—or his son—could make short work of Denmark."
"The time is not ripe," said Ulf hastily. "It may never be."
Harald clamped his fists together. "It remains to be seen whether a man can shape the time or must be shaped by it."
Ulf's hardy soul shivered, ever so faintly, as he stared at the giant before him.
2
As soon as Haakon Ivarsson learned that King Harald was gone north, he returned to the Uplands. There he traveled widely about, spoke to many men and won them over to his cause. In fall, when his foe turned horse toward Oslo, Haakon went back to
Sweden. King Steinkell gave him a fief in Varmland, on the Raumariki border; this he steered well through the winter, so that both peoples of the kingdom, Swedes and Goths, also came to love him.
Snow fell, the land lay white and mute, folk huddled into the half sleep of winter. Haakon did not sit idle. After Yule he called up a host and went briefly through the Eidha Forest into Raumariki, where he gathered the taxes that were due him as Upland jarl; thereafter he withdrew to his fief.
When King Harald sent men into the shire to collect scot, the Raumariki yeomen answered that they had already paid to Haakon, and would pay to no one else while he lived and had not forfeited life and honors. Harald's men told them that this he had done, but the Uplanders' spokesman replied that the judgment of outlawry was unlawful, not having been passed by a Thing. They were many more than the royal troop, and well armed, so the bailiffs departed.
They expected fire and fury, and were the more frightened when the king did not move. Only his face changed, growing very white, and he said between his teeth: "This matter will not be let rest."
For days afterward he was not good to speak with.
Some time later, messengers came from Denmark to talk of peace. Harald heard them out, and sent back a cold answer. However, it was not a flat refusal, and Svein got enough hope from it to return another embassy. In the meantime, the best of the Norse court—Ulf, Eystein, Thjodholf, Thori of Steig, and others—urged an end to the war. "Our folk are weary, too many women are in mourning, surely God has shown He will not give us victory."
The king listened moodily, but when the Danish envoys came afresh he gave them a courteous welcome.
There was a day of darkling skies, the town gray and white, a few small snowflakes drifting windlessly earthward. Magnus and Olaf, who had become somewhat better friends as they grew up, were out for a breath of air and walked to and fro the courtyard. A pair of thralls were carting dung from the stables, otherwise no one was about; a single crow perched sadly on the storehouse rooftree.
Magnus stooped, made a ball of the crusted snow, and threw it at the bird. At fifteen, he was getting his growth, a slim long-legged boy with flowing hair and bright restless eyes. He laughed to see the crow flap off. Breath smoked from his mouth.
"Why did you so?" asked Olaf. A year younger, he was becoming big and heavy boned, still much given to silence; men said that in spite of being overly peaceful, he was wise beyond his years. "What harm had the bird done you?"
"What matters that?" answered Magnus. "He sat there waiting to have something thrown at him. Let him fight me, or bring suit at the Thing, if he feels it an injustice."
"Can you not bear justice within yourself?"
"You talk like a priest. Would you be a monk?"
"No," said Olaf gravely. "The world is too fair. But I'd not go seeking fights."
"Small wonder that father yells at you so often. He does at me, too, but it's a different anger."
Magnus wiped wrist across nose and tossed back his thick locks of hair. "When I am king, you'll see some real warfare!" "What boots it?"
"Why . . . wealth, strength, fame!"
"Wealth is better built than stolen; strength better kept for use when really needed; and there is more than