They Came On Viking Ships

by Jackie French

  The fire pit was massive too—there was certainly no shortage of wood to burn in this rich land. Finnbogi’s fire was still burning in the fire pit.

  ‘Tell the women to build the fire up high,’ ordered Freydis. ‘Then they can choose their bed closet.’

  Hekja nodded. She supposed that if the couples slept in the closets she would sleep alone in the great hall, with Snarf.

  Hekja went out to give the orders. They were the first she had ever given, but no one seemed to notice. Some of the men had already caught salmon in their nets in the river—giant fish that glistened in the sun. You only had to throw in a net, they said, for it to fill up with fish.

  Soon the salmon were hanging on the roasting chains above the fire, tended by the women. Freydis ordered a barrel of barley beer be broached, to celebrate their arrival, then went out to check the animals were safely fenced. One by one the men came in, and sat before the fire, with horns of ale and platters of cooked fish. And then Thorvard carried in the great carved chair that had sat by the fire pit in the farmhouse in Greenland. He placed it in the spot of honour, facing south. The men waited for him to sit in it. But instead he sat on one of the benches, like the other men.

  Then Freydis entered. She walked steadily up the hall, to the fire pit, then sat in the great chair, just as though she were a man, while the women turned the fish on their great chains and filled the horns with beer.

  No one spoke. The silence grew, then Snorri’s voice rose clearly through the dimness of the long house. He had left the harp in Greenland, as he had promised. But Snorri had no need of a harp, thought Hekja.

  ‘Over the trackless ocean,

  Over the endless sea,

  Food for ravens we travelled,

  But none flew as far as we.

  ‘Warriors boast of beating,

  Weaker foes than ours.

  A man’s strength is fleeting,

  Against an ocean’s powers.

  ‘Now we have a new land,

  Ours to change and watch and grow.

  Let only they who dare to follow,

  Question how we go.’

  No one cheered. The words meant too much for them to toast the singer, so they gave him the even greater compliment of silence. And Hekja stared across the fire at Snorri, heir to great estates, further from her than Bran had ever been.

  And so she spent her first night in Vinland, in a house much like the one that she had left, the men snoring in their sleeping bags above, the couples whispering in the bed closets, wrapped in seal furs by the coals of the fire, the smoke drifting lazily until it found the smoke hole, the sounds of cows outside and the crowing of the rooster, who thought the moonlight was the sun.

  But there were new sounds too—new frog calls that she had never heard before and insects that chittered through the night. When she opened her eyes again the big wood doors were open. It was dawn, and different birds were yelling. And there in the early light stood Freydis, Eric’s daughter, gazing around as though to say, ‘This land is mine.’

  Chapter 33

  EXPLORING VINLAND

  Breakfast was leftover fish. By the time Hekja rose Snarf had breakfasted already. Like Freydis, he had been out in the dawn already, and Hekja noticed feathers on his fur.

  Then Freydis gave her orders: some men were to put up more fencing, for the cows would calve soon and the ewes have their lambs, and the animals would need more grass. Others to hunt, for the party needed fresh meat as well as fish; and the last of the men to build byres for the animals, to shelter them when winter came. The women were to feed and tend the animals, set up the looms, and choose where the summer crops could be sown, so the grain had time to ripen before winter.

  Leif had said that animals could be left out all winter in this mild land, as there would be grass for them to eat all winter long. But Freydis wanted to take no chances. It was a long way to Greenland to get more cows or sheep.

  The animals were eating as though they had never seen grass like this before. Hekja grinned. She supposed they hadn’t. Even the bull didn’t lift his head when she walked past to fill a bucket from the river. She was carrying it back when Hikki came jogging over to find her. He looked happier than she had ever seen him.

  ‘Come on!’ he yelled. ‘It is time for us to run the land!’

  Hekja went back inside and changed into the running dress that Freydis had given her. It had two loops and buttons to fasten the material between her legs and at the sides, but her arms were bare, and so were her legs when she moved. The women shaking out the sleeping bags stared at her and giggled, but Hekja paid no attention. She was stronger and faster than those house women would ever be.

  Freydis looked her up and down, then nodded.

  ‘Tell Hikki to come in,’ she ordered.

  Hikki too had changed into his running shift. He looked even more different from the big, fair Norsemen now, with his dark hair and small features and his strong runner’s legs, so unlike the muscles of the men who exercised with sword and axe. He nodded respectfully to Freydis. ‘Which way should we run, mistress?’

  ‘Run south along the coast for two days,’ ordered Freydis. ‘Then inland for two days, then run four days north, and make your way back along the coast. But if there is anything worth investigating you may take longer.’

  ‘What sort of thing, mistress?’ asked Hikki.

  ‘Birds’ nests, lakes of fish. My brother said that there were fields of wild grain and berries. There’s a whole land out there waiting to be discovered,’ Freydis said softly. ‘And you will see it first and tell me all about it.’

  ‘We are to run both together?’ asked Hikki.

  Freydis nodded. ‘If one has an accident, the other can help.’ She smiled at Hekja. ‘And yes, you can take the dog too. But be warned,’ she said quietly to Hikki, so none of the house women could hear her words, ‘if you so much as look at her I will pull your guts out through your mouth and feed them to the fishes.’

  Hikki glanced at Hekja, then back at Freydis. ‘I would never do anything without your permission, mistress.’

  ‘See you don’t,’ said Freydis, amused.

  Hikki set off at a jog as soon as they were outside. Hekja followed him, with Snarf bounding happily at her side. The whole camp stopped work, it seemed, to watch them go. Hekja could feel their eyes on her bare legs.

  Snorri was stripping bark from a fallen tree for the new fencing, just beyond the clearing. He must have just chopped it down, for his axe lay next to his shirt. Hekja nodded at him politely as she passed, and Snarf gave him a happy ‘arf’. Snorri only nodded in reply. It wasn’t till she passed that she heard him call, ‘Take care!’

  She stopped, and turned. He was still staring at her. ‘Would you tell a warrior going to battle to take care?’ she asked.

  Snorri frowned. ‘No.’ And then he grinned. ‘Though maybe I should. Come back safe,’ he added, and now he didn’t grin.

  Hekja felt herself blushing. ‘I will.’ She turned back, and followed Hikki through the trees.

  It was easy running on that first morning. This time Hekja carried a pack like Hikki’s, with a cloak, knife, a water bladder and another bladder filled with oatmeal mixed with salt butter. Hikki also carried flint and ironstone.

  The sun was barely high when they reached the beach. They ran along the sand where it was firmest, just above the waves. For a while there was little to see, for the sand dunes rose between them and the land. All that was visible were the scattered islands, most no larger than a whale, and the piles of rotting seaweed for Snarf to nose at. The sand was almost the colour of the sun and the waves rolled smooth and even and splashed their ankles.

  When the sun was high Hikki announced a rest stop. They crossed the sand dunes, up into the edges of the forest, where the sand met the first black soil, and flopped down into the shade. Snarf shook himself, and wet sand flew from his fur and into their faces, then he flopped too. He had found a dead seagull and had carried it proudly
in his mouth for the last part of their run.

  Hekja kicked it further away. ‘If you’re going to eat that,’ she said firmly, ‘you can sit over there.’

  ‘Arf,’ said Snarf reproachfully. He trotted over to his seagull and sat down to chew it.

  Hekja opened her pack, and pulled out her water bladder.31 She untied the top and drank a few gulps, then tied it up again and rested against a tree and shut her eyes. She opened them to find Hikki staring at her.

  ‘You don’t use your arms,’ he said abruptly.

  ‘My what?’

  ‘Your arms. When you run. That is why you are so tired now. You need to let your body balance, so it pulls you along.’

  ‘I don’t understand,’ said Hekja.

  Hikki shrugged. Then he said, ‘The singer…what do you think of him?’

  Hekja hesitated. ‘I think he has the most wonderful voice I have ever heard,’ she said honestly, and watched Hikki’s face darken. ‘I also think he is a Norseman, and my enemy.’

  ‘Perhaps. But you still have to live with these people,’ said Hikki. He studied her face closely.

  ‘I know,’ said Hekja softly. ‘For a while I hoped I could go back home. But my home no longer exists. If I ever have a home again it will be here. But not with a Norseman.’

  Hikki said nothing. He took a single gulp of his water, then put it away. Then he smiled at her. ‘Come on,’ he said. ‘Now I will show you how to be the finest runner in the world.’

  Before she’d met Hikki, Hekja had thought that all you needed to run well was strong legs, and some practice running after cows. Now she learnt differently.

  This time, as they ran along the beach, Hikki showed her how to push with her bare toes, to propel her body forward; how to swing her arms so they pushed her body too; how to angle her body against the wind so it almost seemed that she might fall, but somehow ran faster, and easier too.

  Most of all he showed her how to pace herself, so that she ran at an easy speed without having to stop and rest. Suddenly it seemed as though their feet ate up the beach, as headland after headland disappeared behind them.

  But it seemed that there was even more to learn.

  Mid-afternoon they splashed across a creek, its leaf-brown water trickling across the sand. It was the first fresh water they had found since they left the river. Hikki glanced up at the sky. ‘Time to stop,’ he said.

  ‘But it will be light for ages yet,’ protested Hekja.

  ‘And we have days of running ahead of us. Best stay here, with fresh water, and collect driftwood for a fire and start at first light tomorrow.’ Hikki nodded at Snarf. ‘And perhaps your friend here might find dinner for us too.’

  ‘Arf.’ Snarf wagged his tail, as if to say, ‘I’m sick of running on sand. Let’s go hunting instead.’

  Hekja followed Snarf into the trees, while Hikki gathered driftwood. Suddenly the world was dappled shadows, and cool after the glare on the beach. In places the undergrowth would have almost been too thick to push through, if it hadn’t been for trails that the animals had made.

  Finally Snarf bounded ahead. He was back a few minutes later, carrying something in his mouth. He dropped the dead animal at Hekja’s feet.

  It was big and furry, like a hare but with a bushy tail. Hekja skinned it with her knife, but left the guts in so Snarf could eat them later with the head and the feet. She hesitated with the skin, for it looked soft and valuable. But finally she left it there, rather than carry it as she ran.

  The smell of smoke and roasting led them back to the sand dunes and the fire. Hekja stared at the creatures Hikki had placed over the coals.

  ‘What are they?’

  ‘Crabs. One of Leif’s men told me about them. They have their bones outside, not inside. They’re supposed to taste like fish.’

  They did. Hekja poked the last of the flesh from the claws while the furry creature cooked, and Snarf gulped the guts then settled down to doze, with one ear up so he didn’t miss anything and his nose pointing away from the fire so he could smell the new scents.

  ‘It’s beautiful,’ said Hekja at last. ‘The golden sand and the waves. I never thought anywhere could be so beautiful. Do you think we are the first people ever to see this?’

  Hikki shrugged. ‘Maybe. Leif’s party explored too. But it is a rich land, true enough. There is wealth enough for everybody here.’ Then he added, ‘My muscles are sore—they grew too soft aboard the ship.’ He stood and began to undo his tunic.

  Hekja stared. ‘What are you doing?’

  Hikki grinned at her. ‘I’m going to bathe. Have you ever tried it?’

  Hekja shook her head.

  ‘It stops your muscles from aching,’ said Hikki. He shrugged and added carefully, ‘But the waves are probably too rough for a girl.’

  Hekja glared at him. ‘If you can bathe, I can too.’

  She undid a button on her tunic, and then looked up. Hikki was still staring at her. ‘Look away!’ she ordered.

  Hikki grinned. ‘Why?’

  ‘Because Freydis ordered it,’ said Hekja. Then she added, ‘And because I ask you to.’

  ‘Then I will obey you, not Freydis, this time,’ said Hikki seriously.

  Hikki pretended to look at the sky while Hekja undressed, then raced down the sand without looking behind. Hekja followed him. They waded out till the waves crashed against their waists. Hikki ducked down till only his head was showing and Hekja copied him, while Snarf splashed at the shallows and looked worried in case they planned to run right out to sea.

  ‘It’s cold! But good!’ yelled Hekja.

  ‘I told you it was,’ said Hikki smugly.

  Hekja wondered if he could see her shape under the water. But she could only dimly make out the white of his body, so she supposed the water hid her too. The last naked man Hekja had seen had been her older brother, years before, but that was different.

  They ran back after that, Hekja first, then Hikki when she called that she was dressed, and sat by the fire while Snarf gnawed at the bones. The shadows grew deeper as they talked of the villages where they had been taken from, and of the families that now were dead. It was the first time that Hekja had talked so freely since her capture, and somehow it seemed to take away most of the pain.

  Hikki talked too about the farm he’d have soon, when Freydis gave him land and freedom. But Hekja never mentioned that Freydis had said she would free her too.

  The moon hovered above them, so bright it made shadows, just like the sun. Hikki leant over, and threw more wood on the fire. An owl hooted. It sounded strangely like an owl from home.

  Down on the beach the waves pounded out their own music. And suddenly Hekja felt a new song sweep through her. The words had come to her as she had run that afternoon, but now the tune carried them along.

  ‘My heart was crying,

  As they took me from my home,

  But my mouth made no sound.

  I would not sing for Norsemen,

  Not of sorrow or of joy.

  ‘Today our heels have flown,

  Across white sand and gold,

  Today my soul is free,

  And I can sing again.’

  The music died away. Hikki gazed at her, his mouth open as though it was the first song he had ever heard. Finally he said softly, ‘The Norsemen prize good singing. You would not have had to mind the cows if they knew that you could sing like that.’

  ‘My singing is mine, not theirs,’ said Hekja, just as she had said to Snorri with his butter hair.

  ‘But still…’ began Hikki.

  ‘No,’ said Hekja. The song had left her empty. ‘No discussion.’ And she lay down to go to sleep.

  Hikki slept too, with Snarf dozing but alert beside them.

  When morning came they set out again. By midmorning they came to a great river, cutting deeply through the sand, so wide it would need a boat to cross it. They turned inland then, and ran along the river bank.

  At first the river flats were m
ostly sand and grass, where floods had swept them clean. Then the big river broke off into small ones, with trees along their banks. Finally they came to marshlands full of reeds and waving heads of grain.32 Hekja picked a bunch and placed it in her pack to show Freydis.

  They headed northwards now, as Freydis had instructed, over low hills, along animal trails again that were hidden among the trees. Suddenly Snarf stopped, and barked. ‘Arf!’ It was his danger call.

  Hekja looked back. ‘What is it, boy?’ she demanded.

  ‘Arf!’ Snarf barked again, then growled warningly.

  Hekja looked around. But there was nothing to see.

  Snarf growled again.

  ‘What’s wrong with him?’ called Hikki.

  Hekja shook her head. ‘I don’t know,’ she admitted. ‘I can’t see anything. It must be something he can smell.’ She bent and patted Snarf’s head.

  ‘Maybe he’s hungry,’ suggested Hikki.

  ‘Maybe,’ said Hekja doubtfully. She gazed around again, but there seemed to be nothing wrong, so they began to run again.

  Snarf bounded after her. But he seemed wary now, no longer leaping carelessly through the trees or bringing back branches for Hekja to toss.

  That night they slept on a hill above a marshy lake, but Snarf only dozed. And when Hekja woke at dawn he was awake, his hackles raised, and growling.

  * * *

  31 A calf’s bladder that was scraped clean, and kept soaked in water so it didn’t dry out till it was needed.

  32 This was probably wild rice.

  Chapter 34

  THE SKRAELINGS

  ‘What is it, boy?’ whispered Hekja, sitting up in her sleeping bag. Hikki was still asleep.