Concerning Orm’s sojourn among the monks of St Finnian, and how a great miracle occurred at Jellinge
While they were resting with the monks of St Finnian, Orm and his men deliberated deeply as to what course they should take once the slaves had recovered sufficiently for them to be able to proceed on their voyage. They were all eager to get back home, Orm no less than the others; nor was there much danger of encountering pirates at this time of year, when few ships were at sea. But the going was likely to be hard in the winter weather, which in turn might well result in the slaves dying on their hands; it would, therefore, they thought, perhaps be wisest to sell them as soon as possible. For that, they could either sail down to Limerick, where Orm’s father was well known, or up to Cork, where Olof of the Precious Stones had for long been the biggest dealer in slaves in these parts. They asked the monks which they thought would be the best plan for them to follow.
When the monks understood what their guests wanted to know, they chattered eagerly to each other, and were apparently much amused; then their spokesman said: ‘It is plain that you come from distant parts and know little about the way things are in Ireland now. It will not be easy for you to trade in Limerick, or in Cork either; for Brian Boru is powerful in Ireland now and, although you hail from a far country, you have probably heard of him.’
Orm said that he often heard his father speak of a King Brian, who waged war against the Vikings in Limerick.
‘He does not wage war against them any longer,’ said the monk. ‘At first he was the chieftain of the Dalcassians; then the Vikings in Limerick waged war against him. After that, he became King of Thomond, and then he waged war against them. In time, he became King of the whole of Munster, and then he stormed Limerick and killed most of the Vikings there; those that were not killed, fled. So now he is the greatest warrior and hero in Ireland, King of Munster, and Lord of Leinster; and such foreigners as remain in our coastal cities pay tribute to him. At present, he is waging war against Malachy, who is King of all our kings in Ireland, to win his wife and his power from him. Olof of the Precious Stones pays him tribute and has to send him soldiers to help him with his war against King Malachy; and even Sigtrygg Silk-Beard of Dublin, who is the most powerful of all the foreign chieftains in Ireland, has paid him tribute on two occasions.’
‘These are grave tidings,’ said Orm; ‘and this King Brian appears indeed to be a mighty chieftain, though it may be that we have seen a mightier. But even if all you say is true, I do not see why this should prevent us from selling our slaves to him.’
‘King Brian does not buy slaves,’ said the monk, ‘for he takes all that he requires from his neighbours and from the men of Lochlann. Besides which, it is known that there are three things which he covets more than anything else in the world, and three things that he abominates – and these last will be to your disadvantage. The things that he covets are these: supreme power, which he has already; the greatest quantity of gold, which he also has; and the most beautiful woman, whom all the world knows to be Gormlaith, the sister of Maelmore, King of Leinster. Her he has yet to win. She was formerly married to King Olof Kvaran of Dublin, who got rid of her because of the sharpness of her tongue; now she is wed to Malachy, the King of our kings, who so disports himself in her boudoirs that he is hardly fit to take the field any more. When Brian has defeated Malachy he will win Gormlaith, for he never fails to get what he wants. But the three things that he most abominates are heathens, men from Lochlann, and poets who praise other kings. His hatred is as violent as his greed, and nothing can assuage either of them; so, since you are heathens and Lochlannachs to boot, we would not advise you to approach him too nearly, for we do not want to see you killed.’
The men listened attentively to all this, and agreed that it would be unrewarding to trade with King Brian. Orm said: ‘It seems to me that the James bell was a good guide to us, when it led us to your isle and not to King Brian’s kingdom.’
‘St Finnian’s bell helped you, too,’ said the monk; ‘and now that you have seen what the saints can do, even for the heathens, would it not be a wise thing for you to start believing in God and become Christians?’
Orm said that he had not given the matter much consideration, and that he did not think there was any urgency about deciding.
‘It may be more urgent than you know,’ said the monk, ‘for there are now only eleven years left till the end of the world, when Christ will appear in the sky and judge all mortal men. Before this happens, all heathens will do well to be baptized; and it would be foolish of you to be among the last to do so. Unbelievers are now going over to God in greater numbers than ever before, so that in a short while there will be few of them left in their darkness; and certain it is that the coming of Christ is presently imminent, for the wickedest heathen of all, King Harald of Denmark, has just been baptized. Now, therefore, is the time for you to do as he has done and abandon your false gods and embrace the true faith.’
All the men stared at him in amazement, and one or two of them burst out laughing and slapped their knees.
‘You will soon be telling us,’ said Toke, ‘that he has become a monk like yourself, and shaved off his hair.’
Orm said: ‘We have travelled far and wide in the world, while you rest here with your brothers on this lonely island; nevertheless, you have greater tidings for us than we have to tell you. But this is no small thing that you ask us to believe, when you tell us that King Harald has turned Christian; and I think the most likely explanation is that some seafarer has put this idea into your heads, knowing that you are simple and incredulous and thinking to make sport of you.’
But the monk insisted that he had spoken the truth, and had not merely repeated some sailor’s yarn. For they had heard this great news from the mouth of their own Bishop, when he had visited them two years before; and on each of the next seven Sundays they had offered thanks to God, on behalf of all Christians whose homes had been visited by the Vikings, for the great victory He had gained.
This persuaded the men that the monk had told them the truth, though they found it none the less difficult to believe such remarkable tidings.
‘He is himself descended from Odin,’ they said, staring at one another in amazement; ‘how, then, can he bind himself to any other god?’
‘All his life he has had great good luck,’ they said; ‘and this was granted to him by the Aesir; his fleets have sailed against the Christians and have returned home laden with their wealth. What can he want with the Christians’ god?’
They shook their heads and sat dumbfounded.
‘He is old now,’ said Grinulf, ‘and it may be that he has become a child again, as King Ane of Uppsala did in former times. For kings drink stronger ale than other men, and have many women; and that can tire a man over the years, so that his understanding darkens and he no longer knows what he is doing. But men who are kings do as they please, even when wisdom has passed from them. Perhaps that is how King Harald has become ensnared into these Christian beliefs.’
The men nodded assent, and recounted stories of people in their homeland who had grown peculiar in their old age and had caused their families great trouble by their crooked fancies; and they all agreed that it was no good thing for a man to live until his teeth fell out and his understanding began to languish. The monks pointed out that worse things than that would befall them, for when the Day of Judgment arrived, in eleven years’ time, they would be dragged suddenly out of the earth. But the men replied that they would worry about that when the time came, and that they were not going to bother to go over to Christ for the fear of that.
Orm had much to occupy his mind, for he had to decide what course they would do best to take, seeing that they did not dare to go inland to the markets. At length he said to his men: ‘It is a fine thing to be a chieftain when there is booty to be divided up and ale to be handed around, but less desirable when there are plans to be made; and I have not been able to think out anything very good. Certain it is that we must sail now,