The United States of Vinland: The Landing (The Markland Trilogy) (9 page)

“It
is nonsense.” Thoromr turned to look for the skraeling women at the back of the
hall, as far away from their Lakelanders as they could be. The three sheep lay
near them. “I will go and take any with me who wish a life free of this
nonsense!”

“Come
now, Thoromr,” Eskil replied. “Please reconsider. It will be better for all to
work together.”

“I
shall have nothing to do with any of you.” And he then turned away, striding
across to his thrall.

The
skraelings shrank away from Thoromr as he neared, but he ignored their chatter
and whines, and reached down for a handful of his thrall’s long, black hair.
With a sharp tug, he brought her to her feet and then turned back to face the
Norse. “I will take your raft, and in return, you will be rid of me. I will
also take whoever wishes to go, as well as my sheep.” His hand went to the
rough hilt of a knife he wore tucked into his belt.

Many
of the others saw the move and followed suit by reaching for their own blades
whether stone, bone or iron.

Halla
stepped forward between the groups, a hand resting on her swelling belly. “Have
you lost your senses? We are all to be found of our own kind in Markland, and
that means we need to work together!”

Straightening
up to face her, Thoromr cursed and then turned to Eskil. “What is it with your
women? Is it that they all dare to speak with the supposed voice of the gods or
that they have taken your balls while you slept?”

Eskil
stepped forward. “They are entitled to speak.”

“To
their husbands and children, perhaps, and also to your lame sheep...but not to
me.”

“They
have earned our respect with not just their actions and labour, but also their
words. We would not have survived without them.”

Thoromr
mocked, “I thought you said the gods brought you here?”

“They
did, but not to lay about in sloth while awaiting their favour. They brought us
here to work for them and to make the most of what we have been given.”

“Enough!
I shall be leaving!”

“If
you wish.”

Thoromr
turned to face his three fellow Lakelanders, standing with his trembling
thrall, who slowly dropped down to squat by his feet. “Come, this is no place
for us.”

Until
now, his men had said little, but their faces spoke a range of emotions.

Alfvin
was the first to break the silence. “They are right, Thoromr. We need to stay
together. It is the only way we will survive in this new land.”

Ari
then spoke up, and anger laced his tone. “Together they say; it is nothing but
wisdom. They have a message to heed, not spurn!”

Thoromr’s
anger grew, just as his father’s would have. “Spurn! They are being enslaved!”

Ari
answered, “You have become bitter like your father, almost poisoned against the
gods and this land. Your anger is not fired by being told what to do by women,
but rather that your mother is not doing the bidding!”

Alfvin
held up his hands in an effort to silence the growing fury and soothe the heat.
But Trion broke the brief calm, stoking the fire once again. “Hold, Ari and
Alfvin; Thoromr is right about malady being in this place. Yes, it would be
wiser for us to work together, but that does not mean it has to be. Besides,
maybe we are unable to work together. Perhaps we should live separate lives and
build our own farms and futures. We came here not only to be free of the agents
of the White Christ, but also free from the rise of new kings.”

Thoromr
smiled at Trion’s words, turning toward Alfvin and Ari – particularly the
latter – his fellow’s harsh tone still ringing in his ears. “You can stay here
if you will, but I intend to return to Lakeland and take my sheep.”

Eskil
said, “You will be going nowhere without our raft, and about that we have yet
to agree.”

Thoromr
pushed his chest out and widened his stance, his one free hand now well and
truly settled on the hilt of his knife. “Are you coming with me, Trion?”

The
Lakelander looked first to his fellows and then to Gudrid and Halla before
striding to join Thoromr. Turning back to face the others, he looked to the
remaining skraeling women and barked for Thrainn’s thrall, “Huncha, here!”

One
of the women rose and scurried across to Trion, swapping worried glances with
Thoromr’s thrall and the two left behind.

Thoromr
said, “And what of you others? Who will go with me to live in Lakeland?”

Ari
shook his head angrily, still fuming, while Alfvin looked on in grim silence.

“Then
this is the breaking of our fellowship.”

“It
was long broken, long ago," Alfvin agreed darkly.

Eskil
spoke again, eager to calm the tension in his hall. “If you must go in this
manner, we still offer our friendship, as there may yet be times ahead when we
need to talk or seek each other’s aid.”

“I
want none of yours!”

“So
you say, but who is to know what may yet befall any or all of us.”

“Bah,
you sound like the Christians’ priests!”

Eskil’s
eyes blazed at the comparison, but he withheld his anger. “That will do for
now. Go.”

“I
will take the raft and the sheep.”

“We
will trade the raft for one of your sheep.”

“They
are my sheep and you will not have any of them!”

“If
you want our raft, and half your people are staying behind in Godsland, then
this is the way it will be. I will even let you take your father’s axe.”

Thoromr
cursed, “The sheep are mine, and not yours to take!”

“As
the raft is ours. I think your own men would argue for some portion of
ownership of the sheep. If they wish to stay here with us, as they are welcomed
to do, that means two of the thralls will remain as well. Alfvin and Ari cannot
come empty handed to our hall.”

“That
is a quarrel for you to have with them, if indeed they are not coming with me.”

Eskil
lost some of his calm as the exchange continued. “You will not leave here without
our blessing–unless you mean to swim the frigid waters of the fjord. I offer
you the raft as the means to go in peace and to even take a sheep, but you will
return my token by leaving the other animal, as you will also be leaving behind
a great many mouths to feed.”

Alfvin
spoke up, “It is a fair trade and a kind enough offer after the hard words
Thrainn and you have used in soiling this hall.”

Thoromr
sneered. “And who are you to judge such a thing?”

“A
man once of Lakeland, now welcomed into Godsland, with his thrall and sheep.
You shall not take that away from me.”

Ari
also spoke, “Look about you, Thoromr. Look at all they have built and done! The
tales they tell; of landing as the storm died about them to reveal a world of
green touched by golden light at the foot of a runestone!”

“It
is merely a tale!”

“This
is where we should be, working together so all survive. Why do you not see?”

“I
will have none of it. If it is so important to you, I will trade a sheep only
so I can journey from here.”

Eskil
relaxed. “Good.”

Torrador
supported him. “A fair trade.”

“Then
carry it for me.” And he made for the door, dragging his woman behind.

From
there he stopped and turned, looking to the raven banner hanging on the wall.
With a sneer, he hissed, “This hall of ravens may have slaughtered a wolf, but
I shall build up a hall across the water that will house nothing but wolves fed
on fury, who shall one day return to repay you and your sour hospitality.”

Eskil
shook his head. “Go, Thoromr, return to your hall with no more bitter words.”

It
was dusk when they left – Thoromr and Trion, with Thrainn’s body, two thralls
and a lone sheep. Few words were spoken as they poled off into the deepening
night. The only sound to come back across the water was that of harsh laughter
as the two Norsemen exchanged a joke of ill temper.

-

The Rift

The
last of the snows melted, revealing the land springing into green life. While
the thaw might have come and gone, the bitterness of the opening disagreement
between ravens and wolves lingered. The Godsland Norse tried to put the sour
events behind them, setting themselves to work, but Eskil feared the quarrel
would haunt them for a long time to come.

The
skraeling women responded well to a gentler hall. The first tentative bonds of
trust grew as they worked alongside Gudrid and Halla, reinforced by softer
dealings with their men, Alfvin and Ari. The two former Lakelanders seemed
relieved they were free of Thrainn and his bloodstained hall.

While
Ari and Alfvin initially spoke little of life with Thrainn, Thoromr and Trion,
they were more than full partners in their labours as they worked to ensure a
place in the Godsland hall. One of the first things they did outside their
daily chores of fishing and gathering firewood was help Torrador and Steinarr
build a small boat. They fashioned the craft out of salvaged timber planks to
replace the raft traded to Thoromr as part of their move between halls.

Before
long, spring moved into early summer, and the hall welcomed more babes into the
world, this time from the thralls. Alfvin became the proud father to a boy,
while brooding Ari was presented only days later with the surprise of twins, a
boy and a girl, although he seemed, as he often did, to take the news quietly.

The
new arrivals looked neither Norse nor of their mothers’ stock. They were born
with a skin of a hue in-between the two groups, and with lighter hair. All the
adults suspected that such looks, along with their blue eyes, would drift as
the babes grew. Neither could say what such issue would eventually resemble,
whether it favour Markland’s newcomers, those long of its cool vales, or that
the babes would be the first of a new people.

The
initial strands of trust built between the skraeling women and Gudrid and Halla
strengthened as each thrall went through her own labour, aided by the Norse.
Eventually, even the men noted the rise of this new sisterhood, including the
newcomers, Alfvin and Ari.

As
the weather continued to improve, so did the range of foods gathered from the
island, the sound and the journeys farther afield along the fjord, in the new
boat. One of the skraelings would often accompany the expeditions across the
cool waters, helping to identify what could be eaten and showing the uses of
various plants new to the Godslanders. Such voyages, usually led by Eskil, had
several goals: explore their surroundings, find better sites for settlement and
discover what treasures the land had yet to give up, be it timber, food or bog
iron.

They
also watched for any sign of neighbouring settlements, be they Norse or
skraeling.

Eskil
and Gudrid had discussed the thralls at length, particularly on the morning
after the twins’ birth, as they walked the shores of Godsland, looking for
driftwood or anything of use given up by the sea. He asked, “Can they be
trusted?”

“Do
you mean are they looking to grab a blade one night and slit our throats?”

“I
suppose that is part of the question, but what also of running away and leaving
us?”

“Where
would they go?”

“Well,
not back to Thoromr, but their people must be somewhere near.”

She
nodded in agreement. “Yes, I suppose.”

“I
admit that when I take them to the mainland, I only take one of them, and we
travel to places we have already seen and know.”

“You
are wise to be careful.”

“I
do not want to run into their own kind, not when we have no idea what the two
women would tell them.”

Gudrid
walked on, thinking, her eyes watching the gravel of the beach. “I do not think
they would slit our throats, not when they have children and are so
outnumbered. Having said that, I cannot be certain they want to remain with us
either.”

Eskil
nodded. “They seem more settled, even speaking words of Norse.”

“Yes.”

“We
need them.”

Gudrid
stopped to pick up a branch lying on the beach before she answered. “They know
this land, certainly better than we do. I hope to learn from them, as to what
we can grow and eat. There must be grains and root crops we can rear.”

Eskil
nodded, pleased to hear such a thought. “And are they thralls or wives? By
Odin, sometimes I cannot tell the difference with how Alfvin treats his woman,
although Ari is a colder sort.”

“You
pose a good question.”

“I
imagine the other men would also like to know. I suspect more than one of them
would be quick, given the chance, to wed either of them. I pity them and feel
responsible for their loneliness.”

Gudrid
saddened. “If the Greenland Norse return to Lakeland, we may yet meet more of
our own kind.”

“Perhaps.”

“Frae
and Seta have been good for us.”

“Yes...their
names...I suppose it would not hurt for us to use them instead of referring to
them as skraeling or thrall.”

“No,
particularly when Alfvin and Ari both use their names when you and the other
men are not around,” she grinned.

Eskil
chuckled. “Do they?”

“Yes,
and they seem to also be confused as to whether they are wives or thralls.”

“The
thralls...” he paused for a moment before trying again, “Frae and Seta,”

Gudrid
gave a pleased nod.

“They
have already given us valuable knowledge, particularly of local foods and
materials from the woodlands, pastures and fjord. I would simply prefer to know
they can be trusted.”

“While
we need them, perhaps we should offer them their freedom to come and go. Let
them decide if they want to stay.”

Eskil
looked to her with wide eyes, startled by the very idea. “They might leave!”

“Yes,
and there lies your answer as to if they can be trusted. But what if they chose
to stay?”

“Why
would they?” Eskil asked.

“For
their children, and perhaps our hall is not as bad as their other choices.”

“You
mean Lakeland. But what of their own kind?”

“They
would choose us over Lakeland’s hall, of that I am certain. But who knows what
is left of their own people?”

“What
do you mean by that?”

“As
you have stated before – something bloody happened when Thrainn stumbled into
their world. We know this, yet perhaps we have only half the truth.”

Eskil
grimaced. “I need to talk to Ari and Alfvin. I have tried before, without
pushing, as neither desires to dwell on what happened with Thrainn. We also
need to discover their feelings on other matters.”

“Like?”

“The
thralls are theirs, even if we deem it wise to set them free. I need to
convince both of them.”

Gudrid
gave a nod. “The women have already had chances to run off. In any case, if
they were going to do such a thing, I would think they would do so in the
summer – certainly not in spring when the weather can turn – or as we head into
autumn. They know, better than us, that they need be ready with food and
shelter for winter.”

“Do
they talk to you, I mean in the way of conversation?”

“They
were quiet at first, but when we brought them into our duties, they spoke a
little more. I think they already knew some Norse from Lakeland. In particular,
after the birthings, they have become more trusting. Alfvin and Ari have helped
by treating them better. I have not seen either strike them since they joined
us.”

“Do
they fear their men?”

“They
watch and obey them, listening for commands. I doubt Frae fears Alfvin,
although I am not certain of Seta, in regards to Ari.”

“Feelings
are growing between Frae and Alfvin; I have noticed hints of it. Such a thing
is harder to say about Ari and Seta, since he is a quieter man.”

Gudrid
offered a smile at Eskil’s comment and raised her eyebrows to emphasise her
words. “That is not unlike Seta herself, do you not think?”

Eskil
chuckled again. “I have hardly spoken to her – not like you – but she does seem
a little distant and frostbitten.”

She
laughed at that. “I think she is much happier here, despite not showing it. I
think all of them are.”

“I
shall try and talk to the men, one-on-one, to see what their thoughts might be.
I will ask Ballr to help as he spends much time collecting timber with Ari. Can
you talk to the women and see if you can draw out their intentions?”

“Yes.”

“And
we need to know more about their people since there must be some still around.
We need to know if they are nearby, in what direction, and how many. One day we
will run into them and, in truth, I would rather do so with Frae and Seta by my
side–and wanting to be–instead of them being tempted to turn on us.”

––––––––

E
skil
and Torrador were on the boat along with Ballr, Alfvin and Seta. They were
heading up the calm waters of fjord in the early morning to check sites ahead,
including marshes suitable for bog iron, and a series of spring-green glades
for settlement.

They
needed a new bog iron site, as the existing marsh they had been trying only
produced poor quality ore. Upon examining it, Alfvin had declared that better
marshes must be about, for they certainly were to be found in Lakeland, so why
not elsewhere. Having announced the search on, he was keen to get it underway.

While
the search for bog iron was a driver, so too was the matter of food and furs.
On a previous trip, as spring took hold of the land, Torrador and Steinarr
discovered a wide variety of green life across a string of glades. Upon hearing
this, Gudrid suggested taking Seta along to see if she could identify any
plants that might be good eating. If they found any, the plants could be
uprooted and brought back for the garden she was establishing. Eskil agreed,
also liking the idea of being able to spend some time with the enigmatic
thrall.

The
morning was peaceful on the fjord, the sun shining much of the time. Yet
despite the light, beauty and space about them, a rising tension came to settle
over them. They were passing alongside the shoreline that would bring them
close to Lakeland.

Little
chance existed that Thoromr would be there, as the man, no doubt, had a lot to
do, particularly now that the settlement had only the two Norsemen and their
thralls. Regardless, the Godslanders drifted past the shore, and even though no
one raised the subject, all eyed the woodland that climbed from the fjord-side
ridge up above, beyond which lay Lakeland.

All
five travellers sought some sign of their hostile neighbour.

Was
Thoromr there?

Eskil
noted that the pace of their rowing slowed, and he was as much to blame as
anyone else. Annoyed at this haunting by Thoromr, Eskil grumbled, “Let us keep
moving.”

Torrador
grunted, but did what Eskil bid.

Ballr
whispered, as if somehow Thoromr might over hear, “Even if he was there, you
would not see him; the trees grow too thick.”

Eskil
caught himself nodding, and then became annoyed that he had even acknowledged
the shadow of the man hanging over them. Still, having done so, he ventured,
“It would be so much smarter for us to work together, but if we cannot, then
that is the way it must be.”

Torrador
answered, “He is an arrogant brute, like his father, but also good with his
axe. In a fight, I would rather him on my side than be against me. Thrainn
trained him well.”

Ballr
agreed, but Seta and Alfvin remained quiet.

They
continued along the shoreline, scanning the woods for any sign of Thoromr,
eventually passing far enough that they felt they were out of Lakeland’s
domain. The shore itself broke up in places, shadowed by a few long, thin,
well-wooded islands.

They
soon passed a slight bend, where Ballr pointed out a heavily wooded gully
backing onto yet another steep slope. He said, “See, this was the spot I was
telling you about, that Ari and I had spied before: A place of good, tall and
varied timber, also close to Godsland. You could merely float the logs down the
channel with the tide and current.”

Eskil
could only agree. Many of the trees climbed tall and straight, making the gully
their closest stock of not only good timber, but of the kind of logs they would
eventually need for roof beams or perhaps a ship’s mast. The trees certainly
were much better than the smaller and softer birch and willow they had on
Godsland. “Yes, Ballr, but perhaps it is still too close to Lakeland. You would
probably not run into Thoromr while going ashore, but the sounds of you felling
trees might bring him on. I do not care to see any of us go up against him if
armed with his father’s axe, for he is strong and fast.”

Torrador
offered, “You could best him, as you did his father.”

Eskil
shook his head. “Maybe not, not with our battered, old axe. Thoromr is as
strong as his father was, and almost as big, but now also has more to prove. I
think he might have the advantage.”

Ballr
frowned, but tried his luck. “Maybe later we could try for some timber there,
when it is more opportune?”

Eskil
grimaced.

“Perhaps
when we are at peace?”

Alfvin
muttered, “Peace? Thoromr is too much like Thrainn; I would not wait for it.”

Torrador
smirked, “Or when Alfvin can get enough iron together to make some real axes.”
He turned to the former Lakelander and asked, “Have you not already gathered a
good amount from salvaging nails from our ship’s ruin?”

Alfvin
gave a nod. “I have some, but not quite enough.”

Ballr
grinned. “Axes! What a day that shall be!”

The
Icelander’s fellows all smiled to hear his enthusiasm, but did not comment
further. They did not want to encourage Ballr, since they all had heard of the
jarred hands and elbows, of blistered palms and fingers too often over the past
season.