“You made the chili? The girl who said she never wanted to learn to cook properly?”
“Yah, I know. But I could hardly help it — given I’ve been a prisoner in this kitchen for most of the time I’ve been here.”
“I’m sorry about that, Peggy. I thought things would be different. For starters, I never imagined the job of cook’s help was so demanding.”
“I’m just glad I got through it, and I did learn lots about the Vikings. And even though I did get into some trouble over the cave, I think it’s great how things all turned out in the end.”
“Turned out in the end?” asked Eddy.
“Well, you know, like how I discovered that the cave paintings are telling the story of Sigrid the Brave’s battle with the bear and how the burial of the skull was like some ritualistic burial. Didn’t Professor Brant tell you about it?”
“Yes, he did tell me. But, Peggy, I find it odd that you say we have you to thank for putting all the pieces together about the cave when, in fact, Professor Brant was the one to put it all together.”
I was stunned. Eddy didn’t believe me. “No. I went to see him earlier today. I took him my sketchbook and showed him how the details on the cave walls matched Sigrid the Brave’s story. I’m the one who figured it out, Eddy. You can ask Niko, the storyteller.”
“We’ll have to talk about this more later, Peggy. I’ve got to go now. There’s to be some speeches and acknowledgements.”
As she walked away, I felt as if all the life had been sucked out of me. I knew Professor Brant was a jerk, but Eddy was my friend. How could she not believe me?
During all the speeches, Bertha called me over. “Tanks, Princess. No one has a clue about what happened. Ya sure saved my bacon.”
“No problem.” I noticed Bertha’s face was red and that she had beads of perspiration all over her forehead. “Bertha, you don’t look so good. Maybe you should have your hands looked at.”
“Maybe I will, but we need to get this place cleaned up first.”
“I can handle the cleanup. You go and lie down.” It took a lot of insisting, but Bertha finally agreed to have a rest.
After hauling bins of dirty dishes into the kitchen, I loaded the dishwasher, then made several trips back and forth to get more dishes. As I did, I watched various students and professors get up and thank this person and that person for being helpful, for being an inspiration, and for teaching them the skills of excavation. Eddy’s name came up several times, along with Professor Brant’s. I got angry watching him gloat as adoring students praised him over and over. They all thought he’d solved the mystery about the cave. Even Eddy thought it was him.
Eventually, everyone cleared off and headed for the visitor centre for the last evening lecture. It took a long time to finish cleaning up, and when I was done, I took out Bertha’s menu plan to see what she had in mind for breakfast.
“You need any help?” asked a voice from behind. I turned to see Robbie standing at the kitchen door. “I noticed that Bertha left you on your own. That’s a lot of dishes and pots and things.”
“Bertha wasn’t feeling well. She went to rest for a while. But I’m finished now.” I was hoping that would be it, but she didn’t move.
“Exciting news about the cave, eh?”
I wasn’t sure what to say. Every time Robbie started a conversation with me, it usually ended with sarcastic remarks. I didn’t want to walk into her trap. “What news?”
“Oh, just how Professor Brant won a bid that will give him additional funds toward the excavation here at L’ Anse aux Meadows. It’ll probably continue through the fall. And now he knows the pictographs and the saga of Sigrid the Brave are connected. It’s really exciting, don’t you think?”
I didn’t know what to make of the conversation we were having. Robbie appeared friendly, but I wasn’t buying it. “Yah, exciting.” I hung up my apron and moved to the door. “Sorry, but I’ve got to see how Bertha is doing.”
“Sure. See you in the morning. What’s for breakfast?”
“Bertha planned for breakfast burritos, muffins, and yogourt.”
“Sounds great. I’ll look forward to it. Well, good night then.” She turned and left.
I stood there wondering what that was all about. What was she up to?
When I went to the tent, Bertha was sound asleep. I didn’t want to wake her, so I just crawled into my cot. I was so tired I didn’t even bother to undress. It didn’t take long before I was fast asleep, too.
“It is as certain as I am sitting here talking to you that one day the gods are doomed to perish. Odin even foretold it himself,” Sigrid tells Gunnar and the others who have gathered around the hearth. “In that day the mountains will shake and the ground will tremble. And Skoll, the monstrous wolf, will leap upon the sun and gobble it up. And the stars and sparks of Muspellheim will flicker out and there will be complete darkness throughout all of Midgard.”
Gunnar shifts uncomfortably on the bench. “My father will want me to come and help,” he tells his cousin.
“You’re not scared, are you?” teases Sigrid. “Don’t you want to hear how
Fenris-wolf is going to break free from his prison and how he’ll join with all the frost and storm giants to battle Odin, Thor, and the other gods?”
“I’m not scared. Besides, I’ve heard the story before. I just don’t care to hear it again right now,” Gunnar tells his older cousin.
“Fine, just as long as you understand that the end will come.” Sigrid is pleased that Gunnar’s eyes are as big as onions.
“Don’t forget the rest of the story,” butts in Aunt Gudrid. “Out of the ruins of old Asgard a new world will arise and the younger gods who don’t perish and all mankind will rise up and build a new home where all will live in peace.”
Sigrid stands and thrusts the stick she is using to poke the fire into the air. “Yes, but only the brave will live in such a place — only those who aren’t afraid to battle with evil.”
“Sigrid, did you do what I asked you to do?” Aunt Gudrid says to change the subject.
“Not yet,” she answers. “I’m in the middle of telling a story.”
“You cheeky girl. Get on with it. I told you I need more firewood, and I need it now. We’re drying fish today.”
Sigrid storms to the door and snatches up the basket.
“Snorri, go with your cousin,” Gudrid tells the little boy.
Sigrid growls and takes her cousin’s hand. “Keep up,” she says briskly, and he toddles after her as fast as he can.
Aunt Gudrid watches her children leave. Though Sigrid dislikes babysitting, she will never let anything happen to Snorri, especially since the incident in the forest. When they are out of sight, she returns to preparing the fire moss. It really is the worst of all the jobs.
“Where are the children?” Thorfinn asks when he comes in for his morning meal.
“I’ve sent them off to gather firewood. If I don’t keep that girl busy, she’ll get into trouble,” she tells him. “When she returns, I’m going to put her to work spinning yarn. Like it or not, she’s got to get used to women’s work.”
Thorfinn sits beside the hearth. “Gudrid, I’ve been thinking about the match we made with Bjorni. I’m not so sure now it’s a good one.”
“I’ve been thinking the same thing. Poor man. He’d provide well for Sigrid, but I don’t think he’ll know how to handle one so defiant and lively as that girl. He needs a wife who appreciates security over freedom. And, besides, he’s so old.”
“He’s younger than I,” Thorfinn objects.
His wife laughs. “Yes, but he’s still too old for Sigrid.”
The couple fall into silence, and soon the demands of preparing for the journey home occupy their thoughts. When a good deal of time has passed and Sigrid has not returned with the necessary supply of wood, Gudrid grows annoyed. “That girl, all I asked her to do was gather some firewood and then come right back. I should have sent Gunnar instead. I’l
l have to see where she’s gotten to.”
Gudrid does not really mind the chance to go outside — she needs the fresh air. But when she reaches the edge of the settlement she does not see the children. Instead she sees the form of a great white bear rising on its hind legs and looking very angry.
“Thorfinn Karlsefni!” she screams. “Come quickly!”
When her husband hears her cries, he comes at once. “The children, where are they?” he asks when he sees the danger.
“I don’t know. I’ll look for them.” Gudrid returns a few minutes later, her face as white as snow. “They haven’t returned to the settlement,” she whimpers.
“Get your weapons, men,” commands Thorfinn to the crowd that has gathered. “Arrows, spears, axes!”
While the men head off to fetch their weapons, Thorfinn races toward the meadow. If he has to, he will fight with only his fists and wit. When he realizes he is too far, he yells to distract the creature. But the bear is focused on something else, and it roars and bares its teeth. Thorfinn thinks there is a streak of red seeping down its chest as it growls at something small and crumpled on the ground. Then Thorfinn realizes what it is.
“Sigrid!” he cries. “Oh, gods of Asgard, do something!” As if his prayer is heard, a stream of arrows falls from the sky and rains down on the bear. The great animal lets out a frightening bellow and drops heavily in a heap, blood pouring from its wounds.
When Thorfinn reaches the scene minutes later, the bear is still and lifeless. A short way off his son is resting his tiny head on Sigrid’s chest. The boy’s cheeks are stained with tears. Thorfinn drops to the ground beside them both. He gently shakes Sigrid, but it is clear her spirit is gone. When he tries to pry Snorri away, the boy refuses to let go of Sigrid’s tunic.
Finally, Snorri climbs onto his father’s lap. That is when Thorfinn glances at the lifeless, bloodstained heap and the arrows protruding from the bear’s body. How could that be? he wonders. Where did they come from? Then he notices Sigrid’s silver cloak pin stuck in the animal’s neck.
“Oh, Sigrid,” Thorfinn wails. “Brave young warrior. Go in peace. You have fought well.” Thorfinn wipes his eyes, buries his head in his hands, and thinks back to the day he taught her to defend herself. He told her then, “If you’re going to kill, then drive the sword in like you mean it.” He saw then that she enjoyed the sport but did not possess the ruthlessness to actually kill another.
“But she tried, Snorri, and she did it to protect you. Rest in peace, my dear girl.”
It was a long night for Bertha and me. She was restless from the pain in her hands. And I couldn’t sleep because I had all the events of the day stomping around in my head. The worst part was finally doing something right, but no one knew about it. I wouldn’t have minded so much if at least Eddy believed me.
Chapter Ten
“You’re a good girl, Princess. If ya ever want a reference, just call me. And if ya ever want to be my cook’s help again, well, don’t,” joked Bertha. Her throaty cackle sounded like the blender when I overfilled it. At least it meant she was in a decent mood that morning.
“How do your hands feel?” I asked.
“They hurt like hell, but they’re better, tanks.”
Bertha’s hands may have been mending, but she still couldn’t do much. She made the orange juice, poured yogourt into cups, and mixed the fruit salad. I did the rest — scrambled five dozen eggs, prepared all the fixings and condiments, cut up all the fruit, made the coffee, and set up the dining hall. If this had happened two weeks ago, we’d have been in trouble. But at least now I had a handle on making scrambled eggs. Though Bertha did catch me about to add too much chili powder again.
“The recipe says a couple of teaspoons, Princess, not a couple of tablespoons. Ya can read, can’t ya?”
It was funny how that kind of stuff used to get under my skin, but now I just shrugged it off.
When everyone arrived, breakfast was piping hot and ready to go. Bertha stayed in the kitchen to avoid questions about her hands, and I served. I was anxious to see how people liked my cooking. Even though I’d never admit it to Aunt Margaret, I was kind of proud of the fact that I’d improved. I think I was even starting to like cooking.
“Hi, Eddy,” I said when she got to the front of the line. “Do you want your breakfast burrito with or without beans?”
“With beans, thank you.”
I spread a scoop of beans on a tortilla and added the scrambled eggs and salsa, then rolled it all up. “Here you go.” I was getting better at rolling the tortilla so all the stuff didn’t squish out.
“Looks good,” she said. “Ah, Peggy, I’m sorry about last night — for not believing what you told me.” I knew Eddy meant what she’d said by the way her eyes were all soft.
“I guess I can understand why you didn’t believe me. I mean, I have bungled a lot of things since coming here. So why did you change your mind?”
“Because of me.” I looked over and there was Robbie smiling. “I told her what really happened.” I must have seemed confused. “You see, I was out in the hall when you were talking to Professor Brant yesterday. I heard the whole thing — like how you discovered the connection between the saga and the cave paintings. Later, during our lecture, he told everyone about it, only he left out the part about you being the one to put the pictographs and the bear skull together with the Norse girl. Everyone assumed he was the one who figured it all out. When he did nothing to correct their misperception, I got really peeved. I mean, who does something like that? Taking advantage of a little kid is just repugnant. Anyway, that’s why I went to see Professor McKay this morning.”
I was a little offended by the “little kid” part, but otherwise I was pleased and grateful to her. “Thanks, Robbie.”
“That’s okay, kid. I knew Professor McKay would know I wasn’t making it up — seeing how we haven’t exactly been best of friends. Besides, there’s nothing I hate more than an arrogant liar.”
I suddenly recalled some of the boastful things I’d said when I first arrived at L’Anse aux Meadows, and felt blood rush to my cheeks. At least I hadn’t lied. “Well, it doesn’t really matter as long as you guys know,” I said.
“So what, now all of sudden you’re humble after weeks of showing off?” Robbie said. “I don’t think so.” My cheeks were really on fire now. “Credit should be given where it’s due.”
“I agree,” said Eddy. “It was excellent deductive reasoning, and because of you we’re able to understand how these events are connected. It will move our study along much faster.”
“Someone would have figured it out sooner or later,” I offered.
“You’re probably right, but all the same, you did some good work here,” Robbie said. “So now all we need to do is figure out how to turn this to your advantage. I mean, you do want to get back into that cave, don’t you?”
“Do I ever,” I blurted.
“Well, just follow my lead.”
I wasn’t sure what she meant but decided to wait and see what happened. When everyone was finished their meal, Robbie started tapping her fork on her coffee cup and continued tinkling until everyone stopped talking and turned their attention to her. Then she stood up.
“I know last night we acknowledged the professors for all they’ve done to make this a great field school,” Robbie said. I noticed Professor Brant’s chest puff out as if he was sure she was referring to him. “But I just want to take this opportunity to thank some other people. First, I want to make a toast to Bertha for being the best camp cook.” Everyone cheered and applauded enthusiastically. “Come out here, Bertha.” At first she refused, but when everyone began banging their cups on the table and saying, “Bertha, Bertha, Bertha,” she finally wrapped her hands inside a tea towel and came out to the dining hall.
“Tanks, it was my pleasure. You’re a nice bunch of people,” she said modestly. It was amusing to see big Bertha appear so demure. Not exactly the way I’d come to know her.<
br />
Then Robbie continued. “And I think we should acknowledge the cook’s help. She’s been notorious for being a preteen know-it-all —” my face suddenly melted like hot wax “— but she made a lot of progress both in and out of the kitchen.” The applause for me was hardly audible. “And though she’s prone to burning toast and her muffins are terrible —” Robbie’s speech was starting to sound more like a roast rather than an acknowledgement “— she’s got a real talent for figuring out puzzles. Isn’t that right, Professor Brant?” Everyone looked at the professor, who shrugged as if he were waiting for the punch line to a joke. “Peggy, why don’t you tell us how you realized the cave paintings depicted an event in one of the Norse sagas?”
I stood up, aware that all eyes were on me. I’d been trying to get these people to take notice of me ever since I’d arrived, and now that they were I was wishing they’d stop. Awkwardly, I began to explain how my interest in shield maidens led me to Niko, the saga expert, to learn more about them. “He told me the story of a girl who came here more than a thousand years ago. Her name was Sigrid Thorbjornsdottir. She was brave and strong and wanted one day to be a warrior — not a common thing for females at the time. Only her first battle turned out to be her last when she met with an angry and hungry polar bear.” I then explained how I realized that the cave paintings appeared to be telling a similar event and when I showed my sketches to Niko he agreed with me. When I finished my story, there was a long silence.
Finally, Robbie said, “That’s great, Peggy. And what’s really neat is how instead of keeping all this valuable information to yourself, you went straight to Professor Brant with it and told him all about it. Isn’t that right, Professor?”
Professor Brant had beads of sweat on his forehead, and though he was smiling, it was one of those “I’m a dork” smiles. “Well, of course,” he admitted, “the girl helped … somewhat.”
A Bone to Pick Page 12
