Infinite Sacrifice (19 page)

Chapter 6

Two years pass without much change
except for how fast Erna is growing. My days are spent running
around after her, keeping her from the dangers of the farm while
Thora works. Whenever Erna spins off away from me, Borga notices
and brings her back to me by pecking at her gently until she runs
back. Erna dances like a little nymph, twirling around in the crop
fields. Thora comes to find us after her weaving is done. She holds
our hands, as we make our own fairy circles in the wheat. Then we
fall back with our arms out and look up at the busy clouds drifting
past. On rainy days, we sit inside by the fire and throw peas into
a far-away bowl, laughing when they fall out and Borga eats them up
happily.

My nights are spent with Una and
Hela, which are just as pleasant. Una and I help pluck or debone
our supper as Hela tells us stories about her village back in
Scotland. It’s a terrible day for us when the chieftain sends a
servant to come and take Hela away. The oldest woman in the village
has died, and now Hela is the oldest. The oldest woman in the
village, freeman or not, is deemed supernatural and given the
honorary position of the Angel of Death. She will now be given her
own house and her own thralls to assist her in preparing all the
dead for burial. Thora tells me that we should be proud of her, but
Una and I miss her in our little dugout. We have to fend for
ourselves now, and I make sure to stay close to Una. We build one
high bed of straw, and I share my blanket with her.

One day, Erna gets away from me
while I’m collecting eggs, and she stumbles upon a mother goose’s
eggs. She runs out with the white goose on her head, darting this
way and that with the bird pecking at her hair all the while. I
quickly shoo her off, but Una and I roll in laughter all night and
whenever we tell the story. Erna gives Borga much more respect
after that, and she never eats an egg ever again.

Una and I are cooking a stew over
the fire, and as she tastes the stew, the glow of the fire dances
all over her perfectly structured face. A pang hits deep in my
stomach; Una’s not simply a pretty girl like I’ve known, but now
that she’s growing so, I notice she’s much more. She will soon
attract the attention of men—men who are her masters—men who will
make her into another Dalla. She’ll be sent away to the highest
bidder, to sit in her house in silks and wait for her master to
come knocking, just as Dalla does. I feel so sick to my stomach, I
tell her I have to go to bed without eating. I pull my legs up to
my chest, trying to fall asleep before she lies down, wondering if
I can ever own anything in this life.

I hear Borga honking that an
intruder is outside. I get out of my blanket and see her glowing
purple-white in the darkness; wings flapping and her beak open as
rocks are pelted at her.

I call out, “Who’s
there!”

I hear only snickering and many
feet shuffling off in reply. The moon is three quarters full,
bright with a cloudless night, making the barley fields easy to
see. Whatever is there dives into the barley, and I watch as the
things disappear in the three-foot-tall plants. They leave a trail
to follow as the three crisscross and zigzag through the
crop.

As they begin to come back toward
me, I yell, “Get out of here!” and leap into the barley to run
after the closest one.

They run twice as fast with much
grunting and strange panting noises and then completely disappear.
I turn in a circle in the sea of barley, waiting for some movement,
but none comes.

“Liam!” I hear from behind
me.

I know it’s Thora’s voice
immediately and run toward her. At the edge of the crop in a horse
paddock, she lies there holding her round stomach and cries,
“Seamus! Seamus!”

Then something comes charging out
of the woods. A beast, three times the height of the tallest horse
and three times as long, rumbles forth with tree trunks for legs
and a snake for a nose.

Thora screams,
“Mother!”

The thing stomps at Thora and
blows its snake in the air, making a powerful, thundering noise—as
I freeze.

∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞

There’s a great feast for the
equinox, and everyone gathers for the festival in the village. Una
and I are allowed to come, but we have to follow the family behind
the wagon for the long way into town. Una has been to a festival
before, and she says the walk is worth it, plus there’s a bright,
full moon tonight. I have to lock Borga up in the dugout, and Una
and I laugh when we can still hear her from the fence of the farm.
The wagon, even with Inga, her children, Thora, Erna, and Rolf, is
still much faster than Una and I can keep up with. After six farms,
we let it go on as we walk quickly. All of the warning fires are
lit across the hilltops and over the water, with a deep red sky
simmering behind, making everything seem so fantastical.

By the time we reach the towers,
most of the town is already full. The guards look everyone over as
they roll or stride by. I gather they’ve already started their own
celebrations with the great quantity of mead I can smell from all
the way down here.

As we are walking by, one of the
guards sees Una and yells, “I think I need to personally check that
one. Come up here, girl!”

The other one laughs as Una keeps
walking through, ignoring them, but the guard pours his bowl of
mead down onto both of us. We start to run as we follow the line of
torches and regroup by the fire in the center of the Great
Hall.

“Now if we rolled around in manure,
we would smell just like the guards!” I shout over the noise and
laugh, wiping the mead out of my eyes.

She smiles. “Shh! Listen to the
music!”

There are a few men playing bone
flutes of all different sizes, whistling together in a light, fast
melody. When the song ends, everyone in the circle claps while
people pass behind us, pushing us into those standing in front of
us. It’s like swimming in a crashing sea, trying to keep from
colliding against the rocks. The door to the Great Hall opens, and
out comes Chieftain Toke with his wife and many children. Right
before the door can close, Dalla emerges and stands behind his
family.

He begins, “Tonight we celebrate
the solstice. Now is the time for planting and renewal to begin.
Thor has given us a full moon to celebrate, and our seeds will
sprout in half the time!” He picks the still, white, he-goat up in
the air, as its bloody neck hangs limp down toward the fire. “We
must all sacrifice to Thor and thank him for all that we have and
all that we wish to have!”

Everyone cheers as he passes the
goat off to a thrall who places it along with the other sacrificed
animals on the scaffold outside the Great Hall. Toke claps and
yells out, “Bring me my valkyrie! The gods and goddess want her
here!”

Some laugh as they see her brought,
yet again, bound at her legs and arms, but she looks rather
comfortable now. She’s placed on the ground before Toke and, with
the fire behind her, still looks fierce, even bound as she is. Some
step back, making it a semicircle now.

Toke looks down into her strange
eyes. “The gods are telling me that tonight is the night I should
trust you.”

Gunhilda smirks.

Toke squints, one eye wider the
other. “You are not going to run this time, or I will kill you
myself.”

Gunhilda still keeps her smirk but
pulls her arms up to cut the bindings. Everyone holds their breath
as he pulls out his ornate sword, brings the sword over his head,
and chops the rope. Gunhilda barely flinches. She lies back on her
freed hands, brings up her bound legs, and holds them so stiff that
one slice of the sword cuts the rope. The crowd moves back even
more as the giant woman slowly stands.

She strides to the far edge of the
circle and snatches a large horn from a small man’s grasp. Gunhilda
throws the beer back in her gurgling mouth and then begins kicking
up her legs in an odd way. Toke laughs immediately, relaxing the
crowd, and he starts clapping as the whole circle joins in. The
flutes find a rhythm to match, and her legs seem possessed as the
top of her body stays straight and stiff. She twirls around in
circles, and I see Erna across the way dancing to the beat.
Gunhilda comes around to her, and my heart stops when she sweeps
her up and spins around the circle with her giggling away,
clapping. I can breathe again when she sets her down, but Erna
keeps her hands in the air, hoping Gunhilda will come back to
dance. The whole village seems to have gathered around to watch
her. It’s the loudest clapping, whistling and cheering I’ve ever
heard. I have to cover my ears to keep them from hurting, and move
closer toward the chieftain’s throne, where it is slightly
quieter.

Toke calls for Gunhilda and
whispers to Dalla, who begrudgingly stands to give up the throne
next to him. He pats for Gunhilda to come sit beside him like a
favored hunting dog, then passes her a full horn, and they crash
horns with a hearty laugh—Gunhilda emptying hers before
Toke.

A man steps out of the circle now,
and it takes some time for the clapping to die down before anyone
can hear what he’s shouting. I recognize him as the holy man who
saved me that terrible day, long ago. He looks greyer with the
years, but since he is wearing the same robe, I
remember.

He nods in respect to Toke and
speaks with his hands behind his back. “Blessed festival to you and
yours, Chieftain Toke.”

“It is so good of you to come out
and thank our gods on this beautiful night, Ansgar.”

He smiles tightly and nervously
scratches at his large mole beside his eye with a pasty white hand.
“I do not come to praise your gods, Chieftain, but I do respect
your festival.”

Toke laughs, allowing others to
laugh along, then asks, “What will it take for you to love our gods
too?”

“What will it take for you to
accept only mine?” Ansgar seems to be challenging him.

Toke looks around to all of his
people. “If you can prove that your one god is stronger than all of
ours, then I will accept your baptism.”

A hush comes over the packed
crowd.

Ansgar seems to be prepared for
this and replies, “My one God and I accept your challenge.” He
looks around his setting, then puts a single finger up with an
idea. “If I were to take that iron poker, red-hot from the fire,
and carry it to you in my hand without any sign of damage, will you
immediately convert?”

Toke nods confidently. Everyone
holds their breath as the holy man bends down to lift the poker out
of the fire and holds it up for everyone to see the glowing. He
brings it down slowly into his open palm as the crowd stirs
uncomfortably, hearing the sizzle. However, the holy man keeps his
face straight and strides to Toke, who pinches his thin lips
together in a smirk as he lifts the poker out of Ansgar’s
hands.

The holy man spins around quickly,
flinging his arms back and forth, then brings his hands up and
proclaims, “A miracle of Christ!”

Toke stands up and orders Ansgar to
hold them out for him to examine, front and back. Then he calls to
the crowd. “See it for yourselves! No marks whatsoever!”

The crowd makes much noise as
Ansgar walks around slowly for the whole crowd to
witness.

However, I notice Gunhilda pointing
to something on the ground and overhear her say, “He coated his
hands in thick beeswax. There the molds lie on the
ground.”

I look down to the shriveled-up
fingers of wax and realize he has tricked the chieftain.

I ready myself for the guards to be
set upon him, but Toke shushes Gunhilda. “Do you take me for a
fool? Of course I knew what he had planned. But what a fantastic
way for mass conversion! This will improve trade
greatly.”

“But you are willing to be baptized
for trade alone?”

He laughs with his head back, tries
to cover his outburst with his hand but keeps snickering. “Little
does he know this will be the seventh time I have been baptized. To
a man with many gods, what is one more?” He keeps laughing. “Plus
the Christians always give fine baptism gifts.”

Gunhilda takes a swig from a fresh
horn, smiles back in admiration as the holy man comes up and says a
blessing over the bowl of water he holds in his left hand. Toke
suddenly looks stern and respectful as he has Dalla remove his
cloak. He strips off his tunic by reaching down his back and
pulling it over his head. I see a long scar running up from his
wrist past his elbow and wonder what terrible battle he has seen.
He bows his round royal head as Ansgar pours the water over. He
comes up dripping and thanks him. Ansgar reaches into a sack he has
laying at his feet and pulls out a golden chalice.

He holds it up and proclaims, “This
is a gift from the pope himself! It was made especially for you
Chieftain Toke, to carry your church’s holy water.”

He brings it up to him, and Toke
bows his head gracefully in thanks, but when he rises, Toke points
to the holy man’s large cross and says, “And that.”

Ansgar looks
taken aback, and his hand goes immediately to his jeweled cross.
“This was a gift
to me
by the pope. I respectfully decline.”