Runestone (72 page)

“There was nothing we could do, Wolf,” Dove told him, “so why worry about it? It would happen or not anyway, no?”

This approach seemed quite reasonable. It was neither a denial nor a helpless resignation. In an emergency, if something
could
be done, any one of the People would be good to have beside him. In many ways, this philosophy reminded him of his grandfather again.
Do what you can, then face the rest without regrets
. Grandfather would have liked the People.

What an odd idea
, he told himself.

But there were many other things to think about. The travel, the occasional times when they paused for a day to hunt for fresh meat. The warm sunlight on the river, cool evenings around the fire, nights when the moon was nearly full, and bathed the world with silver … And, of course, the questions that set his thoughts in motion. Where were his own people and where would they encounter them? It would probably be the Ericksons, he thought. Sometimes he tried to guess which of the brothers would be the one to explore the coast southward as far as the Great River. Leif, sometimes called Leif the Lucky, was certainly bold and courageous in his voyages. And lucky. Nils had never met Leif, but had been greatly impressed by the enthusiasm of Thorwald, the younger brother. Thorwald was more interested in the importance of exploring the land they were calling Vinland.

Yes, probably Thorwald would be the one. It seemed likely that he would choose to map the coast, to find what sort of place this Vinland might be. Leif would be more inclined to concentrate on colonizing the islands. Nils daydreamed again about what amusing sort of greeting he would use when they met.
Good day to you, Thorwald. How is it with you?
He smiled at the thought of the surprise he would see on the face of Erickson.

There was a chance, of course, that the meeting would be of a different sort. Maybe they would simply come to a settlement, like Straumfjord. He had no idea who might be the headman of such a colony. Well, he would see. …

Another idea troubled him slightly from time to time. As they paused to contact natives along the river, no one yet seemed to have any idea of how far it might be to the ocean. They were still traveling on the river that would lead them back to the sea. Now he began to wonder whether the Great River might flow into the sea on the
opposite
side of this unknown land. Several facts made him doubt it. The big river that had joined the one where they traveled had come from the
west
. Its size spoke of a great expanse of land in that direction. Also, their direction of travel was still almost directly
south
. If it had chanced to turn westward in its flow, Nils
would have assumed that his theory was wrong. He would have turned back.

As he pondered that possibility, another thought struck him. Odin had said nothing about when he and Snake would turn back. Nils finally asked him.

“I do not know, Wolf. I had thought maybe by this time. Did you want to go back?”

“No, no. I only meant … you have been away from your family so long. …” In truth, he had not thought of turning back, but now was forced to consider it. Maybe this was too big a chance to take. It was already apparent that Vinland was much bigger than any of them had imagined. “Do you think we should?” Nils asked.

Odin gave his quizzical shrug.

“Maybe a little farther. For Snake and me, I mean. You could go on, or back with us. What does Dove say?”

“We have not spoken of it. I will talk with her.”

But he kept postponing that discussion. He was not sure why, except that he was not sure what Dove would want to do. Actually, he was no longer certain what he wanted to do, himself. The voyage was pleasant and easy. To go back upstream would be harder work. There had been a few summer storms, but none as bad as the first one, when the wind creature had howled its way past their camp. So day by day, the decision was postponed. Odin, too, seemed reluctant to turn back.

“A little farther,” he would say. “Then Snake and I will turn back.”

   But they had not done so. It was much later, midsummer now, and they had traveled a long way. Nils was becoming discouraged. They had passed another of the cities like that first one at the junction of the two rivers, only yesterday. Again, they had been reluctant to stop, because of their vulnerability. It had been so each time they passed such a settlement, and they had gone on, passing four or five cities in the past moon.

Each time, Nils had studied the waterfront, wondering whether the facilities might be used for ships. At several places, he thought it possible. How glorious it would be, if
they rounded some bend of the river and encountered one of the Norse longships, moored safely at the wharf of some unknown city here on the Great River! That was too much to hope.

They stopped once more, to question the dwellers of thatched dwellings on the west bank. It was like all the other conversations, carried out in hand signs, with few answers that they had not heard before. Yes, there was a salty sea, Big Water, far downstream. How far? Many sleeps. What else? A big river, from the west, joining this one … two, maybe three sleeps.

Nils was confused. For a moment, he felt as if they were reliving this voyage over and over. It had not been unpleasant, except for a storm or two, which had passed quickly. But more recently, he was becoming impatient.
Nothing happens
, he thought irritably.
It is the same day after day
.

In his musings, he felt that it was as if the river were flowing in a circle, that they were doomed to travel forever, pausing every few days for hand-signed consultations that were exactly like the last. Their goal seemed no nearer. Maybe he should have
insisted
that they stop at one of the cities. Such people would have more experience with traders, and would know of what is going on in other places, maybe. They might even know of Norse contact downriver. Their reasons for not stopping at one of those cities had centered primarily on Odin’s reluctance. That, too, was uncharacteristic of the man. Did Odin know something that he had not communicated? Nils asked him, finally.

“No,” Odin answered blandly. “But I am made to think that the danger is more than any help we would get.”

He said it with such finality that Nils did not push it further. Odin had changed much as a family man. He was cautious, far less likely to take risks than he had once been. In a way, Nils wondered how Odin had ever agreed to accompany the voyage. A sense of responsibility to his sister Dove, maybe, or to his almost-brother, White Wolf. Odin had saved his life long ago, but it must have been a hard decision this time, to leave his own family to fulfill what Odin must see as a responsibility.

Even so, Nils made up his mind that before they saw another of these cities, he would try to convince Odin of the importance of questioning
those
people. Otherwise, this could go on endlessly.

One difference about this most recent stop, however, was the news of another big river ahead. He had tried to sketch in an ongoing map the mouths of the streams they had encountered. Somehow, these local natives seemed more impressed by the
size
of the river two or three sleeps below. Maybe this one
would
be really large. Maybe he would have to revise his ideas of Vinland’s size yet
again
. Everything they had encountered seemed to indicate an immense land to the west. Well, they would soon see. About the river, at least.

They had also inquired about dangers downstream. Yes, they had been told, be careful of storms.
Of course
, Nils thought irritably.
We know that!

“Oh, yes,” the other man added as an afterthought, still in hand signs. “You know of the people there?”

“What people?” Odin signed the question.

The answer was the sign for tribe or nation, followed by one they had seen before. It was the two-hand motion of cutting hair, back over the head.

“The Hair-cutters are below?” Nils asked.

The other nodded.

“Beyond the big river’s mouth,” the man signed. “Where the two come together.”

“And they are dangerous?” Nils asked.

“Sometimes. Maybe not.”

So, the Shaved-heads were in the area two sleeps downstream, and could be dangerous. At least, they were unpredictable, according to this informant.

For some reason, Nils felt good about this. At least, it presented a change. Even something that could be risky seemed better than the sameness that had become so intolerable.

There was an extra possibility here, too. A large and well-known nation, recognized even many sleeps upstream, would be powerful, it seemed. So, they would be well informed. They might know of the distant sea, and possibly of any dragon ships that might have been in the area.

Nils hoped that he could convince Odin of the importance of this contact. He must talk to him before they reached this new “big river.”

T
he storm came in quietly, as many had done on the long river trip. This was initially a gentle rain, completely unlike the crashing assault that had struck them far upstream, with the destructive whirlwind.

A major difference was the character of the storm. That well-remembered strike by the forces of Rain Maker had come in noisily, with the roll of thunder and the spears of fire. This storm crept in by night, almost without notice. They woke to find the world covered by a gray blanket of low clouds, silent and sullen. It hung broodingly over them, dark and menacing, nothing more. It seemed to be waiting.

When the rain began, it was hard to notice, even. There was no change in the wind, because there was no wind. It was such a fine mist that it appeared more like a heavy dew, settling on the leaves of bushes around them, on the upturned canoes, on everything. Droplets of water grew fatter, until their weight became great enough to force them to drip from dangling leaves to splash to the ground.

The campfire was one source of comfort in this sodden world. The little party retreated to the partial shelter of the canoes and faced the warmth of the flames. It was not really a cold morning, but the shadow of the fog was a depressing thing, a chill that gripped the mind as well as the body. It seemed to penetrate all the way through, clear to the bone, though it was as much mental as physical.

Their fuel supply was low, because it had been intended to
move on with the coming of day. Now travel seemed inadvisable. They ventured out long enough to find more firewood. It was sodden and wet, of course, but Snake arranged part of it around the fire to dry, so that it would be ready when needed. The flames hissed and crackled, steam mixing with rising smoke to layer out over the dark brooding river.

By midday the rain was falling steadily. Not a hard and pelting rain, like some they had experienced, but a steady, unchanging patter that seemed to have no end. This continued through the day and into the night. Daylight of the next day revealed little change. They began to wonder about the danger of flooding.

“Should we move to higher ground?” Snake asked, of no one in particular.

It was Odin who finally answered. “I am made to think not,” he said thoughtfully. “The valley is wide. If the water rises, it would be slowly, no? We would have time.”

This seemed a logical assumption, and they settled back to wait. By evening of the second day, however, Nils was becoming impatient. He knew quite well that it would be imprudent to start into unknown waters during a storm of any kind, but … Well, tomorrow might be better. For some reason, he thought of an old sailors’ saying that his grandfather had used.
Three days’ rain will empty any sky
. Would such a truism still hold in the strange lands of this new world?

He did not know, but there were certain things that he had begun to notice during this summer of travel. He was helped considerably in this by his experience at sea. Such things became second nature to seamen. Here, all storms seemed to come from the west. Sometimes more northwest, sometimes southwest, but it was a general weather pattern. With this in mind, he had begun to watch westward during a storm, to see the broken patches of lighter blue that would herald its passing.

This time, he searched in vain for such a sign. The heavy gray blanket simply seemed to hang there, unmoving. He had the odd feeling that its very weight prevented any change in the storm’s position. It was soft and bulky in character, and wide.
How far westward does it extend?
he wondered.

It was like a person whose bulk is so great that he must
move slowly. He, or
she
… Mrs. Johannson, a friend of his mother’s, had been so fat that he had marveled at her size when he was a small child. “Large,” his mother had always said, but Nils knew. …
Fat
. The woman’s legs were like hams, her arms above the elbow larger than his young waist. It was fascinating to watch the woman get out of a chair, all of her flesh quivering and jiggling at once, yet not going much of anywhere. His mother had cautioned him not to stare, but it was very difficult.