by Griff Hosker
I knew from both the clan’s hunting and Long Sight’s words, that there were few predators on the island. Accordingly, I had left my sword at home. I wondered as the wind took me under stormy black clouds if Fótr and Ebbe had needed their swords. By now they would have made landfall. I did not believe that they were lost for Gytha or Ylva would have come to me and I had had no premonitions for quite a while. Ylva’s presence in my dreams meant that the clan had made contact. Was the clan happy? I could no longer take care of my foster son and brother. The spirits would have to watch over my son. The low cloud obscured the mainland, but the island could be clearly seen. I lowered the sail and let the wind blow me gently on to the beach. I lifted the steering board and then pulled ‘Ada’ up the shingle and sand beach. I tied her to a tree and proceeded to build myself a Mi’kmaq shelter. I had hoped to sleep under the trees, but the rain meant I would need a shelter. I used the same technique that Laughing Deer had done, and I soon had a dry shelter. I laid my bearskin on the ground and put up an improvised door to keep it dry. I carried a spear and my bow. The rain meant that I would not string my bow until I had to even so the feathers on my arrows were already sad and bedraggled.
Had Long Sight not advised me then I might have had to search for a longer time to find the deer I sought. As it was, I knew roughly where their herds lived and within a short time I had found their tracks. I was concerned, at first, that there appeared to be fewer tracks than I was expecting but, when I heard the cracks from ahead and smelled the musky smell of deer then it all became clear. Two stags were fighting and the Allfather had sent me to dispatch the loser of the battle. The rain actually helped me and I moved from tree to tree knowing that they would not smell me and their attention would be on each other. I saw them in a clearing. Of the herd, there was no sign. The does and hinds were not stupid; they knew that two fighting deer could accidentally hurt one of them. Whichever emerged as the winner would lead the herd. I strung my bow and rammed my two metal arrows in the ground. Bone arrows would do for a smaller female, but a stag was a different matter.
One of the stags was older. I could see that from the old scars on his head and body. The younger stag also had an advantage for one of his antlers was not uniform and being at a strange angle could inflict a terrible wound. At first, the older stag appeared to be winning. He was using all of his guile and experience to defeat the young usurper. He chose the better ground and the advantage of high ground. As I watched I observed that the younger one was fitter and more agile. He evaded some of the wild charges and, as the older one tired, so the young stag gained the higher ground. The rain had stopped and so I risked nocking an arrow. When the battle ended I did not want the loser to escape. The end, when it came, was a surprise to all three of us. I had envisaged another hour of battle when the rogue antler, coming from the side, speared the older stag in the shoulder. The shoulder muscles, along with the muscles of the hindquarter were the ones that decided a battle. The old stag was game but when the young stag not only avoided the older stag’s wild charge but raked an antler across the old stag’s side then it was over.
Fortune favoured me for, as it fled, knowing it was defeated, the old stag came towards me. I raised my bow and sent an arrow at him. All of his cunning came into play and he lowered his head when he sensed me. My arrow struck an antler and the old stag came directly for me. I had no time to think and I just grabbed my spear and braced the end against the tree behind me. The stag ran into the spear with such force that he drove the spear through his body and out of his back. He snorted blood at me and then died at my feet.
“You died well old one and there will be a place in deer Valhalla for you.” I did not know if there was such a place, but I hoped that there was. I carefully pulled out my spear and my arrow. I did so without damaging them too much although the feathers on the arrow suffered a little. Long Sight had said that the only predators on the island were foxes. I gutted the deer and, picking up the entrails, threw them into the clearing. Then I took the rope I had brought and hauled the carcass into the tree. Crows and carrion might pick at it, but it would be minor damage that they did.
I hurried after the younger stag. I would not hunt him, but he would lead me to the herd. As I had expected, the herd was not far away and they were at a small stream, grazing and drinking. The young stag had a few scars and was licking them. They could not smell me, and it gave me the chance to look at them. I identified the second deer that I would hunt. It was an old hind. It may even have been a former consort of the old deer. She limped which would make her slower. More importantly, she could not bear more fawns and so I would not harm the herd if I took her. I reached into my arrow bag and pulled out an arrow. I was careless and I did not look at the arrow. After nocking the missile, I aimed at her and drew back. I must have made a slight sound for the heads of the herd came up as one and I released, aiming at her body. The herd fled. I saw from the flight of the arrow that I had used the slightly damaged one from the dead stag. Instead of hitting her side it spiralled and struck her in the head, the weakened arrow shattering as it did so. The herd thundered up the watercourse before I could draw another arrow. Cursing my own carelessness, I picked up my spear and slung my bow over my body. I ran up the stream. I found the dying deer just twenty paces from where I had hit her. I had been lucky.
She was smaller than the stag and I decided that I could carry her. I hefted her carcass across my shoulders and began to trudge back to the dead stag. A sudden scurrying and the sound of leaves and branches being disturbed, told me that foxes and birds had already been at the guts and the stag. I shouted and ran; they fled. It would keep them from the dead animal for a little while and I hurried back to my boat. The rain began again and this time there were icy drops in the rain. The seasons were changing. I was tired and my back was aching when I reached the camp. I dumped the deer on my boat. It would be safer there than on the ground. Leaving my bow and arrows there I went back to the dead stag. The birds had pecked out the eyes and the foxes had tried to jump up to get at the cut I had made in the body. I lowered it to the ground. There was no chance for me to carry it back as it was far too heavy. I had little choice but to fasten the legs together, tie the rope around his neck and drag the stag back. I had to use a route between the trees, and it took me some time. The thick clouds and rain meant I could not determine the time of day, but I knew that it had to be after noon.
I was chilled to the bone when I reached my camp which looked miserable and mean. Although I had camped so that the wind did not directly blow across the camp, the proximity of the white flecked waves meant it felt exposed. I placed the stag on the boat. I had much to do and little time before dark. Laying down my spear I gathered rocks from the beach to make a fire pit. I needed warmth and I needed fire. Then I went back into the forest to find dead wood, pinecones and timber to burn. I do not think that anyone had gathered wood since the Mi’kmaq had hunted the moos! Once I had the fire going, in the lee of my boat, the camp looked cheerier. I put a pot of seawater on to boil. The pot kept the fire a little drier.
I went to the boat and gutted the hind. She was smaller and would be easier to butcher. Working quickly and efficiently I skinned the deer and then took out some of the choice pieces: heart, kidneys and liver. I placed them on the rocks to cook. The guts I would reserve as bait on the journey back. Then I began to butcher the animal. The hooves were put in the bottom of the boat along with the guts. That done I cut the legs off and hung them from the crosspiece of my boat. it would soon be night time and the sea birds which were flocking above me would begin to roost. Already the sun was setting in the west. I cut the body into four equal pieces. I took them to the barrel and salted them before laying them on the boat’s cross pieces. The skull I dropped into the water. I would cook it and extract the precious metal arrowhead. I looked at the stag. I was not as cold as it was hard work and made me sweat but I wished that I was back in my hall for I had to do the same for the stag and the beast was bigg
er and would take more work. It would be dark before I finished. As I began to drag it to the fire I looked over to my hall. I could not see it but the smoke which rose from its fire told me how close I was to Laughing Deer and a warm bed.
The skinning took longer and when I had finished, I weighted the two skins in the shallows under rocks. The smaller fishes would clean them a little and the salt in the sea would help to cure it. I tied the four legs over the creaking crosspiece. I would have to salt all eight legs before I could eat my food and enjoy some of my ale! I tossed the seared heart, liver and kidneys into the pot with the heads and trimmings of meat. I was weary and wet beyond words when I had finally salted the last of the deer meat. The preservation would continue but only once I had reached Bear Island. I ladled the heart, liver and kidney on to my wooden platter and poured some ale from my ale skin into my horn.
After shedding my cape, I slipped into the den I had made. It was dry and it was cosy. The Mi’kmaq technique of building sleeping shelters was a good one. I pondered if Bear Tooth would be teaching it to Fótr and the others. As I ate the most welcome food and washed it down with delicious ale my thoughts turned to the clan. I wondered if they had a new home yet and if the Clan of the Wolf had welcomed them. There would be some, like Eidel Eidelsson, who might regret our adventure which had cost almost half of the men from the clan. I knew that you could never go back and undo what you perceived were mistakes. If we had not come to this land, while it was true that there might have been more of the clan alive, others would not have been born. Lars for one. My brother might not have married Reginleif and Bear Tooth would not be in our lives. Would the Mi’kmaq cope with life in our world? No, you could not go back but, as I finished the last of my food and poured my last horn of ale I knew that the only contact with Fótr and Ada would be in the dream world and so I emptied my horn and went outside to make water. The rain had stopped. Taking the pot from the fire I built it up so that the flames would frighten away the animals of the night and I went to my bed to sleep.
The next morning, the storm had passed but there was a damp and cold feel to the air as I headed back beneath grey skies to my home. The journey was slower for I had not only loaded the boat with the deer meat but also the roots of a pine tree I had felled. I towed the tree. The roots would be made into pine tar. If the Mi’kmaq council accept us then, when we left the island, I would have to take many things from our island. My boat needed work. I still had the birch bark boats abandoned by the Penobscot and I intended to make them stronger and watertight.
Stands Alone must have been watching for me from the headland for Laughing Deer and she greeted me as I landed. I had been away but one night and yet it felt like a lifetime. Laughing Deer and I rushed into each other’s arms. I had been meant to be with Laughing Deer. As fond as I was of Ada it was Laughing Deer whom the Norns had selected to be with me and all the doubts from the previous night evaporated. I was meant to be here, and I could not change it. I found myself almost saying goodbye to the Clan of the Fox as we unloaded my boat and took the meat to our hall where we would complete the preservation.
Winter shrank our world to the hall and the empty buildings which surrounded it. I stripped the sail and mast from my boat and dragged it and the other birch bark boats above the high-water mark. I weighed them down with rocks and covered them with pine branches to protect them. Then I left them until the new grass began to grow. We had sown barley and oats in the two small fields close to the hall and buildings. We had harvested them and sown one of the fields with winter barley and oats. It was as we brought the last of the cereal for winnowing that I saw the deterioration in another hall. It was Arne’s and the turf had given way on one side; the side exposed to the worst of the rains. The roof had collapsed, and I knew that within a year or so the land would have reclaimed it. When I had taken the Mi’kmaq through the woods, trees had already begun to grow in what had been Benni’s Stad. He must have used trees which had not been seasoned and they had grown, fed by the rotting turf. If I had not known there had been a farm there, then I would not have been able to point it out to Long Sight. The clearing which Benni and his family had made for their hall encouraged trees and plants to grow. When we left, if we left, then the sea and the forest would reclaim it and there would be little sign that we had ever been here. I wondered if there had been other Skraeling who had lived here long before the Mi’kmaq and Penobscot. Their mark would also have been eradicated.
As winter shrank our world so Laughing Deer grew. We had never been married but I regarded her as my wife. To me Stands Alone was my foster daughter. Since our return from the Mi’kmaq village, she had begun to turn into a young woman, and we got on really well. She laughed when I joked and was a great help to Laughing Deer. Our measurement of time was twofold, Laughing Deer’s growing belly and the shortening of the days. When we reached the winter solstice we feasted. It was strange that both of our people celebrated on the same day. We were an ocean apart, but we had similar customs. I also knew that the Mi’kmaq would be gathered and some time during that shortest of days they would be speaking of us and our place in their world. When Ada had been carrying Lars, I had not been at home as much, but I saw Laughing Deer each and every day. So it was that I saw my unborn child kick and I put my hands to feel the feet and to listen to the heartbeat. We had no wise women to discern the sex and the three of us had games where we each put forward theories. It passed the long nights.
For the first time since I had been on Bear Island, we had snow which fell and lay for many days. We had wood and we had food so that the snow did not harm us, but it made me think back to the Land of Ice and Fire. My mother lay there along with many of the clan. I knew that there were Vikings there. Would they have the courage of the Clan of the Fox and make the hazardous and uncertain journey south and west? Despite my words to Chief Wandering Moos that was a fear. We had been an almost peaceful clan compared with those we had left on the Land of Ice and Fire. Harald Finehair had driven us there and I wondered how many others had been driven west. Despite our defeat at the falls I knew from my own personal battle that, properly prepared, Vikings could not be defeated by Skraeling. If more came from the east then it might mean the end of the Mi’kmaq, Penobscot and all of the other tribes.
It was when the snow lay all around us and the island was as quiet as could be that my son was born. The waters broke in what would have been the early morning, had it been summer. As it was it was dark, and the fire was dying. I built up the fire and put on a pot of water and then did something which no Viking warrior had done before. I witnessed the birth of a child. Stands Alone came into her own that morning for it was she who delivered my son while Laughing Deer squeezed my hand. She gave birth in silence and, later, she told me that was the Mi’kmaq way for if there was danger around then cries would alert an enemy.
After cleansing his mouth Stands Alone said, “You should cut the cord, Erik, for that will bring the child luck.”
I took Karl’s knife, the blade of King Rædwulf, and sliced through the bloody cord. I was transported back to my youth when the three of us, Arne, Siggi and myself had sworn an oath on the bloody blade. I said, “My son, by this bloody blade I swear to protect you while I live and after I am gone for my spirit to watch over you.”
Stands Alone wrapped him in the fur of a bjorr and handed him to Laughing Deer who kissed him and then, as he began to wail, offered him food. “What shall we name him, husband, Erik after you?”
I shook my head, “No for that is a Norse name and he is not Norse. He is Norse and Mi’kmaq. He shall be Bear for I will name him after this island and your people call me the Shaman of the Bear. It is wyrd.”
And so my son became Bear. It became Bear son of Erik later on and so the Norse side was honoured but I cared not. I had lost one son, Lars, who was now back in the east but I would watch this one as he grew.
Chapter 16 Erik
By the time the snow had melted the days were increasing in length and
the three of us ventured forth to repair the damage done by winter. We might be leaving the island but, then again, we might not. I knew that we would not be isolated. Long Sight, Black Bird and I were friends. They would visit. White Doe also had a connection with Laughing Deer and Stands Alone. While the winter crops were checked I went to the boats and removed the fir branches. They were undamaged. Before the winter I had made the pine tar and so I lit a fire outside and began to heat up the magical potion which would lengthen the life of a boat. The hard part was taking apart my boat for I could not invert the whole thing, I was not strong enough. In the end, it proved to be a useful activity for I found that one of the crosspieces which tied the logs to the birch bark boat was damaged. It needed replacing. Over the next few days, I sealed the boats and then began to rebuild ‘Ada’. The repair meant I had to start again when building her and I learned from my mistakes. This time I used two birch bark boats to make the hull. It would make her slightly slower, but she could carry more and would be far more stable. It also allowed me to place the mast so that it was more central. I replaced the steering board withy and I used the last of the pine tar on the two logs. With them out of the water I was able to scrape off all of the sea-life. Choosing a bright, albeit chilly day, I tested the new ‘Ada’ and found her a joy to sail. Black Bird might be disappointed that it was no longer a wild ride, but it would be safer for Laughing Deer and Stands Alone. I took her all the way to the mainland. I knew that the Mi’kmaq would not have returned but I wished to explore the coast. My words and conversations with Long Sight had told me that the Mi’kmaq rarely ventured far from the beaches that they knew. I had charcoal and some of the doe’s skin. I began to make a map. I discovered beaches which could not be reached from the land. The shellfish there would be a rich harvest and I saw driftwood there too. All could be used. By the time I returned to Bear Island I had a much better picture of the coast and, as I approached my island from a different direction, I saw how the Penobscot had reached us without being seen. There were islands every mile or so. It meant that they had approached hidden from view. If they had done it once, then they could do it again. It showed me the isolation which had not been a problem with the whole clan, but I was now the only warrior and with a son to protect I knew we would have to leave.
