The Yngling and the Circle of Power

From—A video interview with Ilse in the botanical conservatory on the eve of the vernal equinox, Deep Harbor, New Home, A.C. 781. By Lateefah Fourier

LF: Intriguing, to have grown up that way. But before I go, our viewers will never forgive me if we don’t talk about your husband, the Ingling. Did I say that correctly? The Ingling?

Ilse: Approximately. It’s more precise, however, to say the I sound with the lips rounded. Yngling. The Y is like the umlauted U in German.

LF: Yngling. There! How did I do that time?

Ilse: Quite well.

LF: But “Yngling” is not his name, right? His name is Nils Järnhann.

Ilse: That’s right. As a child he was known as Nils Hammarsson, because his father, an Ironsmith, is called Hammar. Which means hammer, as you might suspect. Järnhann is his warrior name, given him when he completed his sword apprenticeship. It means Ironhand. While still a sword apprentice, and not fully grown, he killed a man, a warrior, with a blow of his fist.

LF: The Northman culture certainly seems violent.

Ilse: It’s a controlled violence. The warriors are violent, the rest of the culture not particularly so. The Northmen have a system of laws that contain most of the violence within the warrior class. The ordinary freeman is less subject to violence from within his culture than in my own country, Germany.

LF: And ingling—Yngling—is a title, right?

Ilse: In a sense, yes. Long ago, “yngling” simply meant a youth in their language. Anciently, Anglic had a cognate, “youngling.” All three Northman tribes share a legend of a young man who appeared in a time of danger perhaps two hundred years ago, when constant warring threatened to destroy them. They had no warrior class then; all men fought. The southern tribe, the Jötar, had gained the upper hand, and it seemed they would kill or enslave the Svear. And probably the Norskar as well.

Then an yngling appeared among the Svear, to become a great raid leader and war chief, and before long it seemed that they’d destroy the Jötar instead. Then an yngling came among the Jötar and saved them. After that he made himself known as the same yngling who had saved the Svear and Norskar. He said he belonged to no tribe or clan, but to all Northmen. And he had great power over them because of his wisdom and truth and justice, and gave them the Bans that set limits on warring and feuding, the Bans that let them live with relatively little fear and hatred.

LF: Can you tell us a little about those Bans?

Ilse: Of course. Warriors of the different clans still could fight one another, but they could no longer take one another’s land. And the clan borders were reset to the earlier markers. Also, while they could still burn strawstacks, to burn haystacks or buildings was outside the Bans. They could steal livestock, but they could not kill it and leave it lie. They could still kill in vengeance, but only for specified wrongs and within approved feuds.

All the clans agreed to this. But there was a Jytska chief who hated him for it, who struck him with a poisoned knife he’d hidden in his shirt, so that he died. And instead of making a burial mound, they put the youth in a canoe and set it on the Jöta Alv, which floated it down to the sea.

Only then, the legend says, did they realize that none of them knew his name, so they called him simply “the Yngling.” And the legend had it that in a time of great need he’d return, for the Northmen believe that after you die, you will be reborn.

Finally, as was certain to happen sooner or later, there came another time of great need. And when Nils appeared from exile—he’d been exiled for a killing—the things he did convinced them that he was the Yngling reborn to them . . .

After what had happened, Ted Baver was surprised that the council didn’t adjourn at once. He could smell charred flesh, and surely the Northmen did too; they saw, heard, and smelled more acutely than he did. But instead of moving that they adjourn, Nils Järnhann stood beside the corpse and recited what seemed to be a formula for the soul after suicide. Baver hadn’t recovered sufficiently to follow it all in detail, although of course his recorder did.

When Nils had completed the formula, he announced he was resigning as lagman. And not only resigning as lagman; he was leaving the Northmen. There were questions then; the Northmen didn’t want him to go. He replied that they were depending too much on him, abdicating too much authority to him, and that the function of the Yngling was not to preside.

The announcement startled Baver out of his mental shock. It seemed to him that the death of Jäävklo must be the real reason for the lagman’s decision. Or could it be depression because his wife Ilse had left Earth on the jumpship Phaeacia? The important thing was that his seniors on the mission, Matthew and Nikko Kumalo, considered Nils Järnhann one of their two prime resources. Ten days previously, they’d flown pinnace Alpha to Germany and the Dane land, to interview members of their other prime resource, the Psi Alliance. They’d intended to be back for the All Tribes Ting—the big annual assembly of the Northmen. But three nights ago they’d called from Neustadt am Weser, to tell him they wouldn’t be back for at least another week.

Now Nils was planning to leave, and Baver had the impression that it would be soon. If it was before Matt and Nikko came back, they’d want to know where he was going, so they could maintain contact with him.

Meanwhile Isbjørn Hjeltessøn, the leader of the Council of All Chiefs, had solemnly asked the others for nominations for a new lagman. After half a dozen names had been called out, Hjeltessøn had dismissed the meeting and the chiefs, ana the crowd on the slope had begun moving toward their camps. Or in the case of some of the Norskar, their cabins, for the Ice Bear Clan was host to the ting this year.

The crowd was leaving now, and Baver followed Nils. He’d had no personal contact with him before; had spent most of his time with the Salmon Clan of the Svear. Besides, the man was obviously very different from the rest of his people, and according to Nikko had a somewhat exterior viewpoint of them. To talk with him, at least at any length, Baver had told himself, might skew his data and prejudice his analyses.

Baver caught up with him as the Northman approached his tent, a typical, conical affair about four meters tall and four in diameter, of hides sewn to fit, and laid over slender pine poles. Its door flap was open, and the leather walls glowed faintly; someone had started a fire in the fire pit. Which surprised Baver—the Northman was said to live alone.

Nils slowed and looked at the ethnologist. He saw a man of ordinary height, soft by Neoviking standards but well proportioned. His skin was brown, his curly brown hair cap-like; he had it cut from time to time with clippers.

Nils ducked in through the door, and Baver followed him. They were met by giggling, and the confused ethnologist looked around. There were two young women there, in their late teens he judged, perhaps local, and he realized what they were there for. Nils was as much a hero among the other clans, or most of them, as in his own. These girls were there to carry off with them some of the giant warrior’s genes, with which to bless their family and clan. And no doubt to enjoy themselves and pleasure him.

Abruptly Baver stepped back into the doorway. “I—I’ve got more questions,” he said. “I’ll come back tomorrow before you leave.” Then he ducked out, his face hot, and hurried off toward his own tent. Those are damned good-looking girls, he thought, especially if you like them strong and unwashed. He wished one of them had been waiting for him. When he got to his tent, he laid a fire, lit it with his fire-starter, and when it was burning well, put greenery on it to smoke out the mosquitoes.

He’d neglected to ask Nils when, tomorrow, he’d be leaving. He’d check with him in the morning, to make sure; 0800 would do it, he decided. Meanwhile he took the radio from his shoulder bag and called Matt and Nikko; perhaps they’d fly back tonight if they knew.

But neither responded, nor did the pinnace itself. He was disappointed, but not surprised. If both were away from the Alpha, they’d leave the force shield on, and if the area wasn’t safe, they’d leave the commast retracted to prevent vandalism; contact would be impossible.

TWO