Across the Seas

by Griff Hosker

  We pulled the snekke on to the beach, “You two empty the boat and then moor it in the shallows. You have done well. Ebbe, you can be my crew any time.”

  “Thank you foster father.”

  As they obeyed me, I walked with the other three towards the halls, “We saw smoke from all but one island. There were skrælings?”

  “There were signs that they hunt there. There are a huge species of deer on the island. I think they travel there to hunt it. That is the only island worth colonizing. The mainland might be a better place but there are many skrælings who camp by the beaches and inlets.”

  Snorri asked, “Camped?”

  “I saw no houses. There were boats and there were fires. Although I saw no dwellings I am guessing that even a skræling would wish a roof. They may make homes in the same manner as they build boats.”

  He stroked his beard. “Perhaps they travel there in the summer. The biting insects did not seem as bad at Þorri. In fact, they hardly bothered us.”

  Arne said, “That was when we had many fires burning and the smoke drove them away. You have done well, brother. There is no need to think of sailing to this Horse Deer Island yet for we have yet to hew down the trees here.”

  “There is something else. When we camped on the long thin island closest to the mainland, they sent boats to try to take us. I think they will hunt us and fight us. They will not wish us to take their horse deer.”

  “You know more about these waters than any and I will heed your advice brother. We will keep watch and we will make our homes defensible but I do not fear these skrælings.”

  It was the wrong thing to say for the Norns were spinning.

  We settled into a routine now that we were back on the land. Ebbe sometimes went with Padraig and Aed to fish. It was good practice for him. Fótr and I joined the other warriors in hunting and hewing trees to clear for fields. Snorri was right. The biting insects seemed to hide in winter. As the days became longer and warmer so they began to bite more. Gytha’s salve and the wild garlic we ate helped to negate the effect of their bites. Four more warriors decided to build farms close to the newly cleared fields. Arne knew that we had, at most, two years left on this island as a clan. We shared all that we produced but, soon, men would want to reap the benefit of their own hard work. That would be when we needed more land.

  Some men missed the trading we had enjoyed at Larswick while others missed the raiding. Young men trained to be warriors but they had yet to be blooded. Sven and Fótr were the exceptions. Even Eidel, Halsten, and Stig had little battle experience. Our tales of the skrælings and their attack on Deer Island just made them want to go to war. We had not enough metal to make mail and so the younger warriors used tanned deer hide. We still melted iron to make weapons and we still produced slag. The slag was taken and hammered into crude discs to cover their hide jerkins. There was enough wood to make shields. It was not willow but we found wood which split as easily and the younger ones were shown by the older warriors how to alternate layers and then cover them in hide to make a good shield.

  I was almost domesticated. I was foster father to the brothers and sisters of Rek and Dreng. I was about to become a father myself. As Ada grew, I felt our child kicking inside her. Ada seemed to enjoy my hand on the unborn babe. She bore great affection towards me, I could see that but I still yearned for the waterfall. Only Gytha knew of the skræling maid I had seen. She still haunted my dreams and yet I had never seen her in real life. The spirits sent her to me. Why?

  My son was born on the most propitious day of the year. It was the summer solstice. Gytha beamed as though it was her grandson she bore when she came from the birthing house with my son, Lars Eriksson. “Here is the son of our navigator! He is healthy and he screams like a warrior! It is good.”

  Wrapped in a birthing cloth she handed him to me. He was red and looked too big to have lived in Ada. “Ada is well?”

  “She is well and it shows you have a good heart that you ask after her.” Gytha leaned in. “I have dreamed and I see great events in Lars Eriksson’s life. He will not outdo his father but he will be a jarl when he grows.” She stroked his bloody head, “You and I will not see that greatness for we shall be in the Otherworld but it is wyrd.”

  That was a disappointment. We all died but I had wanted to see my son grow. That, it seemed, would be denied me.

  We celebrated the solstice every year but that year, after our first year on the island and with a new warrior in the clan, we celebrated more than ever. It was a joyous time. When three days later Reginleif told my brother that she was with child we seemed to have a perfect world. We should have known that the Norns do not like to see men happy. They were spinning.

  As the summer progressed, we hunted and fished. We prepared for a winter which we knew would be benign. We planted winter barley, knowing it would grow. We watched our crops grow. We now had four cows. With Odin and his son Thor, we had two bulls who could pull the plough. We had milk for cheese. Our pig herd had grown and the only disappointment was that we lost our two sheep. The Allfather had been kind.

  We had so much hide that I was able to make a spare sail for the snekke. Although heavier than the woollen ones we normally used, a hide sail was more robust. There were fewer places for it to tear. We also made one for the fishing boat. We had now developed a technique to make it easier to hunt the fish with the sail. We took ‘Jötnar’ out at the same time. We used spears to stab the thrashing fish and land them quicker. We were able to put the dead fish in our snekke and we managed to harvest more fish that way. The salt pans we had made when we first arrived produced enough salt for us to preserve all the fish we caught. We knew that the winters would be mild enough for us to fish then too. We would never starve here in the new world.

  My son grew. By Tvímánuður he was big enough to hold his head up and look at me. He was so helpless and yet I saw, in his eyes, determination. Gytha’s prophesy was a good one. The longhouse was a good place for him to grow. The other mothers and the babies just a little older than he meant that there were always eyes upon him. I did not envy Benni and his family living so far from the hall but they enjoyed the solitude. His daughter, Eidel’s wife was also with child. When his grandson was born would he wish to be close to him?

  Despite the fact this land was nothing like the lands in which we had lived before, we kept the same rituals. Gormánuður meant we harvested the crops and burned the bones of the animals. On Orkneyjar we had done this because not all of the animals would survive the winter. Although that would not happen here, we did it anyway. Benni and his family, as well as Sven and the others who lived far from the hall, came for the feast. He and his wife would see their daughter! Our old sow was no longer fertile and so she was slaughtered. We had young females. Her meat was a luxury. The berries which had cost lives the previous years had been gathered and brewed Rek’s Blood. We had the bounty of ale and we celebrated. Some of the last year’s wine still remained and that was a heady and potent brew. The day of the feast obliged us by being like the days in Larswick when the leaves fell. The air became still and a sea fog edged close to the beach. Our feet crunched the leaves which had turned red and fallen. It was a beautiful evening.

  The whole clan was crowded into our two halls and it was joyous. Arne’s wife, Freja, was with child again and it seemed a good sign. We sang songs of our past and we celebrated our dead. Our father was honoured for we were here in this new world because of his vision. Benni drank more than most. His eldest son, Benni Bennison, had recently become a father and Benni had the happy look of a grandfather. His daughter was with child and the old farmer celebrated. Snorri and Gytha had also become grandparents for the third time. Siggi was to be a father again. It had been a good feast.

  We all rose late. Sven and Gandálfr did not have far to travel to reach their homes. Benni had the longest journey and he and his family left first. I rose and wandered down to the bay. I looked west. There was a mist over the islands and land there.
The air was still. The water looked so flat that I swear I believed I could walk upon it. Our boats would not be setting off to fish. There was not enough breeze. That was a good thing. We would all take a day off.

  Sven, Gandálfr, Faramir, and Folkman all left to walk the short distance to their homes. It was fortunate that we were still saying goodbye for Leif Bennison came racing through the woods. Leif had seen just nine summers. He was Benni’s last child. His clothes were torn. How could that be for he had left us but an hour earlier?

  “Skrælings! They have killed my family! They are coming here!”

  I reacted the first, “Women and children to the halls! Men arm yourselves!” The Norns had been spinning. The calm and the fog of the feast day had helped them to cross the water. Wind and waves normally protected us and our guard was down. I ran into the hall to grab my shield, helmet, sword, bow, and arrows. I had mail but I did not think I would have enough time to don it. I saw Arne, Snorri and the others donning theirs. As I ran out, I shouted, “Warriors to me!”

  Until the mailed warriors emerged, I would take charge. It was the young warriors who followed me. All had a sword. Some had helmets and most had a shield. I pointed to the boys with slings and bows. “Stand behind us. The rest of you, shield wall!” Padraig and Aed had shields and they joined me. Sven did not and he stood behind me. Fótr did not have one either and he, Tostig and Ebbe flanked Sven. Eidel, Halsten, and Stig each had shields. They were also in the front rank. Six men were not a huge number but there were ten behind us and ten boys with slings and bows. I laid down my shield and nocked an arrow. We faced the trail. The two halls and the barn were behind us. If Arne and the others did not reach us before we were attacked then we could take shelter with the walls at our backs.

  The skrælings were hard to see. They were dark of skin and wore animal skins. It was their movement attracted my attention. I saw shapes running through the woods. There were many of them.

  “Shields!” The five shields came up and my companions squeezed in closer to one another. The skrælings were racing quickly. They moved like racing deer. I sent an arrow at one when he was a hundred paces from me. My arrow struck him in the chest and threw him back. I nocked and released a second which hit another in the arm. It made them become a little more cautious. I saw them unsling their bows. I laid my bow down, and, drawing my sword, picked up my shield. It allowed our line to spread and afford protection for those behind. Their arrows came towards me for I had slain two of their men. It allowed our slingers and bowmen to unleash stones and arrows at them. Their arrows cracked into our shields.

  From behind me, I heard, “Clan of the Fox! Let us go to war.” We had fifteen mailed warriors joining us. It gave me hope. The hope was dashed when the skrælings realized that their arrows were having little effect and they charged us. I counted at least forty of them. I shouted, “Brace! Those with spears hold them at bay until the jarl reaches us!” The ones behind us poked their spears over our shoulders.

  I knew the skræling spears would either be stone or fire hardened. They could not hurt a shield. Deadlier weapons were the stone axes which they held. They could break an arm. The others had spears and four skrælings discovered that their stone spears shattered on wood while our metalheads killed. I hacked across the middle of the warrior before me. He fell screaming his life away as he tried to hold in his guts. A warrior ran at me and lunged at my head. I lowered my helmet and the stone head slid off it. When I lifted my head I rammed my sword into his throat and up into his skull. These skrælings did not fight as we did. They fought as a mob, as individuals. The boys at the side had to fight. I shouted, “Break wall!” I needed Fótr, Sven and the others to join in our attack. I felt their weight move from behind us as I slashed across the head of a small warrior.

  Then, from my right, I heard Arne, “Clan of the Fox! Kill them all! None shall survive!” he had forgotten that which he had said months ago. We needed a prisoner.

  The pressure from our fore began to ease as our mailed warriors hacked and chopped their way into flesh that had no protection. Our spears and swords stabbed and slashed. The skræling warriors had no answer to our attack and they ran!

  “After them! Let none escape.”

  I handed my shield to Sven and sheathed my sword as Padraig and Aed slew the last men before us. I sheathed my sword and picked up my bow. “Keep in pairs. Fótr and Ebbe with me.”

  Our mailed men were slower than we were. We knew this island and the skrælings did not. Some tried to run where there was no trail. I saw Snorri hack one down. Even as I nocked an arrow and hit one in the back I was working out where they had left their bark boats. They would be heading for them. We passed the bodies of Benni and his family. Two dead skrælings showed that the farmer and his family had put up a fight. I knew that they had to have arrived on our west coast. There was only one beach there and it lay beyond the cave of the black bear. I pointed my bow west and led Fótr and Ebbe to cut them off. There was a game trail. We ran through virgin woods and emerged on the small trail. The fallen leaves showed that no one had been down it lately. Arne was right we had to kill as many of them as we could but I knew we needed a prisoner. We had to find out how to speak to them. Once we reached the mainland they would be as leaves on the tree. We would not be able to fight them all.

  When we crested the rise and emerged from the trees, I saw, five hundred paces from us, their boats were drawn up on the beach. Two boys guarded them. “If we can I would take them, prisoner. Take no chances. Wound them if you must.”

  “Aye, brother!”

  Even as we descended, I saw the first of those who had fled reach the boats. There were just two of them. They dragged one boat into the shallows. Then they waited. We covered another two hundred paces and reached the sand by the time they had done that. I nocked an arrow and kept running. We were not yet seen. When we were just one hundred and fifty paces, they spotted us. It was long range but the four of them obliged me by standing close together. My arrow hit one of the boys in the leg. It pinned it to the boat. The two warriors ran at us. From the right, I saw more warriors emerging from the woods and running to the boats. I sent another arrow into the chest of the warrior who ran at me. Fótr and Ebbe, both armed with swords ran at the other. I nocked another arrow. My brother and foster son did not hesitate. Ebbe ducked beneath the swinging axe and slashed the warrior’s thigh. At the same time, Fótr rammed his sword up under the arm of the warrior and slew him. The boy who was not wounded had courage. As I switched my aim to the skrælings running towards the boats, the boy ran with his axe at Fótr and Ebbe. I had eight arrows left and each one found a mark. Behind me, I heard a cry. I did not dare turn around for the skrælings were closing with me. I sent my last arrow to hit one in the shoulder and then drew my sword and Raedwulf’s dagger. A huge warrior with what looked like feathers hanging from his head ran at me with a stone dagger and axe. I blocked the axe with my sword and the stone knife with my dagger. He was a bigger warrior than I was and he tried to push me down. I pulled back my head and butted him. I broke and burst his nose. I smashed his teeth. I saw his eyes glaze. As he reeled I slashed first, across his middle with my sword and then, across his throat with my dagger. He fell dead.

  Arne and the others slaughtered the last of the skrælings. The only one who remained was pinned to the bark boat. I shouted, “Do not approach him. Leave him to me.” I sheathed my weapons and walked towards him. My arrow had driven through his leg and deep into the frame of the back boat and he could not wrench it free. He saw me coming and he drew a short stone knife. It might cut my arm but my hide jerkin would stop it doing serious damage. I held my arms open, “Surrender and I will not hurt you!”

  He shouted something back and waved his knife. I took off my helmet and shook my head. He seemed to see the bear teeth and he lowered his dagger. In two strides I reached him. I took the knife from his hand and pitched it into the sea. I hated to do it but I had to break off the arrow and pull his leg away.
He screamed and then passed out. I took a spare bowstring from my pouch and tied it above the wound. I slung him over my shoulder.

  Arne had taken off his helmet and walked towards me. “Why did you not kill him?”

  “He is but a boy and we need to speak their words. He can be our slave and learn our words. When he is healed, we can send him back to his people.”

  “Send him back?”

  “Aye, we will need to talk with them. Look how many they sent here. There must be ten times that number on the mainland.”

  “We killed them all.”

  “Aye brother and lost almost a whole family. It will not harm us and is worth trying.”

  He nodded, “You are right and you are wise.”

  Siggi ran up to us, “Come quickly, my father is wounded.”

  Arne shouted, “Pile up the bark boats on the beach. Fetch all the bodies here. We will show these skrælings the folly of fighting Vikings!”

  Snorri lay in the forest. Close by were the bodies of two skrælings. He had his back to a tree. His leg had been pierced by a stone spear. He gave us a wry smile, “They may have primitive weapons but, by the Allfather, they hurt. I fear the spear has hurt the bone!”

  We all knew what that meant. My uncle would be lame.

  Arne said, “It is about time you became the wise old man of the clan. Your sons, Siggi and Tostig, can now do the fighting for you.”

  He looked at the boy slung over my shoulder, “You have caught one?”

  Arne nodded, “My brother is a fisherman and hopes to make this one tame!” He shook his head, “Take my uncle back to the halls and we will burn the bodies.”