After she had stirred for a long time, she poured oily liquid from a jug into the bowl. “Rancid seal oil with seagull droppings, improved with beaver’s nettle and some hemlock.” Trude dunked the spoon, smelled, stuck out her tongue. And Tyrkir was amazed—without touching the slime, she tasted it. Something still seemed to be missing, because she removed the lid from a pot and took out two beads, which she crushed on a board. “Cat’s testicles soaked in pepper oil. Makes it hot,” she said, and scraped the grease into the brew.
Trude went to the fireplace and let the bowl float on the boiling soup. Three times, her hands ran in opposite circles over the crucible, then she stretched her arms to the ceiling. “Odin, do you hear me?”
She remained in this position, only moving her lips. After several long moments, she took the rib cage sieve, fished out the silver bowl with it, and set it down on the wooden block.
“My part is done.” She smiled encouragingly at Tyrkir. “As soon as the brew has cooled, I’ll give it to you.” She lifted her finger. “Success now depends entirely on you. If you follow my instructions exactly, your friend will be freed from the spell of this slut.”
Tyrkir listened, now and then stroking his scar in dismay, but finally he felt prepared for Leif’s healing.
As he had been doing for days, Leif returned the following morning. With difficulty, he managed to climb the ladder, and Tyrkir helped him over the railing.
“Oh, Uncle.” Grinning and with glassy eyes, Leif stood in front of his godfather. “I feel as light as a seagull.”
Concerned, Tyrkir noticed how much Leif’s condition had worsened since the previous day. He worried that soon there would be only a shadow left of the radiant Eriksson, the pride of Thjodhild. Something had to be done, no matter what struggle it required.
“A seagull? How beautiful, my boy. Thorgunna is indeed performing true miracles on you.”
“You understand me. Heavenly pleasures, Thorgunna calls them, and she wants to enjoy them with me.” He touched his swollen tongue with his finger. “I’m thirsty!” He shuffled to the tub. “The mead makes me so thirsty.”
Twice he reached before he had grabbed the ladle stem.
Tyrkir stepped in. As if unintentionally, he nudged Leif’s arm, and the ladle fell on the deck. “I’ll help you.”
He pulled the cup out of the leather loop on the tub and filled it half full of water. After a short shake, he handed it to Leif. “Quench your thirst, my boy!”
Leif held the cup to his lips with both hands and drank greedily, emptying it to the last drop. “Uncle . . .” His face turned gray, the cup slipped from his fingers, and he staggered back. “Uncle, this water . . .”
A tremble went through the boy’s body. Leif buckled, struggling for air, then suddenly straightened up again, groping blindly and screaming like a mortally wounded animal. Finally, he found his godfather. Afraid, he reached out. Waves rolled through his body, accompanied by occasional burps. As his lips began to flutter, Tyrkir grabbed his protégé’s shoulders and pressed his hand against Leif’s mouth. “Don’t spit. Breathe, boy. Breathe!”
Leif flapped around. He was too weak to tear himself away and sucked in air through his bloated nostrils.
Relieved, Tyrkir noticed that the seizures had lessened as the völva had predicted. “But don’t wait,” she’d warned him. “Use the moment!”
A soft call, and the helmsman appeared on deck. Without letting Leif go, Tyrkir ordered, “Water!”
All the men onboard had been instructed by him. He’d chosen six of the most suitable ones to assist him with the cure. Carefully, Tyrkir freed Leif’s mouth and held the ladle to it. “Drink it!” Despite the accusing look, he assured him, “It will help you.”
Leif tasted, then he drank in big swallows. “Uncle . . .” he gasped, “I’m so sick . . . What was in the cup earlier?” His legs buckled. The boatman jumped to help, and together they held him up.
“Water from our tub, boy. Pure, good water.”
“But why . . . ?”
“I’m sure the mead and lavish food didn’t agree with you. But don’t worry! You’re in good hands.”
“Thorgunna. I want to rest . . . because I . . . because I have to go to my love tonight.”
Tyrkir felt the tremors taking hold of the boy’s body again. What followed now could not happen on deck before the eyes of the port visitors. Together with the boatman, he brought his godson down to the covered cargo hold. Fish-oil lamps lit the camp. Two servants had buckets and cloths ready. The remaining three reached for Leif’s coat, shirt, and trousers, but too slowly.
Before boots and stockings were stripped off, Leif vomited the contents of his stomach. He gagged again, and at the same time, his bowels emptied. Only some of the waste could be caught with buckets and cloths. Though the stench took their breath away, the helpers washed their master clean and covered him with a sealskin.
“Uncle, I’m cold.” A second blanket was brought. “Uncle,” Leif whispered, exhausted. “Wake me up in time. Because Thorgunna . . .” He snored with his mouth open.
Tyrkir waved the men to him. “Until our skipper is well again, you’ll take your orders only from me. Do you understand?” He waited until everyone nodded and then quietly issued his instructions. The skipper was to be supervised at all times, so two servants were to take turns guarding the ship. “He may not leave. If necessary, tie him up. And have no fear of punishment. You are under my protection.” Tyrkir lifted his finger. “Remember, Leif must not drink! No matter how he curses or begs for it, you will not give him a sip. He receives water only from me.”
As if a voice had called him, Leif awoke at exactly the same hour as on the previous afternoons. He tried to get up. He did not see his uncle, only the servants. “Bring me my coat . . .” After a while, he mumbled, “Also my trousers,” and was again asleep.
In the middle of the night, he shot up. “Yes, dearest, your stallion is coming to you!” Hands pressed down on his shoulders. Surprised, Leif looked around. “Hey, what are you doing? Let go of me immediately!” But the slaves did not loosen their grip. “This is a poor joke, friends. Give me water and help me with my clothes! Did you not understand? That’s an order!” He tried to shake off the boatmen’s hands, but they immediately increased their pressure. “Damn it, what’s gotten into you?”
“They mustn’t let go of you, boy.”
Leif raised his head at the sound of the voice and rubbed his eyes. “Uncle?”
Tyrkir moved the stool closer to the foot of the bed. “You’re sick, very sick, and have to stay on board.”
“But Thorgunna is waiting. She can give me herbs.”
“She’s already done enough. Her herbs weren’t medicinal.”
Leif’s eyes glittered in their black sockets, and he nodded. “If you’re sure, I’ll obey.”
Tyrkir gave the guards a nod, and they let go of the skipper. Leif jumped up immediately and fled naked toward the exit. But before he reached the steering deck, the men caught him. After a short struggle, his strength was exhausted, and they forced him back into the bed. “You can’t do this,” he gasped. “I have command of this ship.”
Without his calm tone wavering, Tyrkir explained, “Not at the moment, my boy. You’re a danger to yourself. That’s why I had to take command.” He snapped his fingers and instructed two other servants to tie up his sick godson.
Leif cursed—he yelled until he was out of breath—and when he realized that his hands and feet were really tied, tears seeped from the corners of his eyes. “Uncle, why are you doing this to me?”
“Because Thorgunna has robbed you of your senses. I have to save you from her.”
“Love. It is love. So infinite. Don’t destroy my happiness. Let me go to her!”
Tyrkir said nothing, only held Leif’s gaze. Finally, he got up and climbed on deck.
It was cold. Above him, the night sky glittered and sparkled. I had no choice, he thought. And now there’s no turning back. He looked
up at the North Star. How easy it is to determine the course of a ship. And how difficult it is to get my Leif back on the right track.
“Lord.” The helmsman approached with an oil light. “He’s asked for water. He says he will die of thirst.”
Sighing, Tyrkir took the small bottle from his belt pouch, dripped some of the slimy contents into the drinking vessel, and added clear water. “Come, my friend. We mustn’t keep our shipmaster waiting.”
The struggle lasted for three days and nights, accompanied by screaming and vomiting, unrestrained crying, and terrible threats. Often enough, Tyrkir had to force himself to maintain this relentless discipline against the sick man. On the fourth morning, Leif lay in a deep sleep, and his sunken face seemed to have finally found peace.
“Untie his hands,” Tyrkir commanded. He’d keep the foot shackles for now. From the tent entrance, the first boatswain waved to him. “What is it?”
“You’d better come up on deck,” the man murmured.
Thorgunna had sent her slave. “My mistress sends her greetings through me and asks if Leif Eriksson would like to give her pleasure, and tonight . . . Oh, damn it, I just can’t remember it. Since he is well again, he should come to dinner with us. My mistress is looking forward to it.”
“Send her the shipmaster’s regrets. Unfortunately, she must forgo his company.”
“Excuse me?”
“He’s not coming,” Tyrkir translated. “And tell her that Leif is too busy. He will not be entering your mistress’s house again.”
The servant scratched his shorn head. “By the Blessed Virgin Mary, she will give me the whip.”
“I thought you weren’t allowed to swear by her name?”
Head ducked, the slave turned around and mounted his horse.
Tyrkir rested both arms on the railing. None of our people disembarked this morning. Four days ago, the slave was here for the last time, and I sent him away with the news that Leif had fallen ill. And today of all days, he shows up again? How does Thorgunna know the boy is better?
His scar hurt. The weather changes, he thought casually. He looked up at the sky and held his breath. No, there’s no doubt. The balls of cloud were drifting over the island from the south. Our wind! If it turns a little more, it will become our lucky wind to Norway. Into this joy, the thought of Thorgunna immediately crept back again. So that’s why she sent the slave! Her beloved has recovered his strength, and our departure is imminent. She felt this before I knew it myself. “If only we were already at sea,” he murmured.
The open, alert gaze and the prudent instructions of Erik’s son compensated the crew for all the toil and doubt through the labyrinth of the last few days. They had suffered with their captain and saved him. Laughter had finally returned to their ship, and the last preparations were easier to make.
After a week, Leif ordered the tent tarpaulin to be removed from the yardarm, then he slowly climbed onto the bow deck. “Uncle, this afternoon, I’ll have the sail checked, and then we’ll be ready.” He lowered his head, scraping his foot across the planks. “We’re setting sail early tomorrow morning. If it’s all right with you.”
“It’s up to you, Leif.” Tyrkir put the bearing plate out of his hand with a smile. “Skipper! Your pilot reports: We have a steady southwest. Nothing can keep us here in Drimore.” When Leif immediately turned his back to him, he was startled and said softly, “It’s better this way, believe me.”
“Maybe you’re right. I have to check the provisions.”
Tyrkir watched him go. In silent agreement, both were avoiding mentioning the past weeks. No accusations, no explanations. How could you be so clumsy now, he reprimanded himself. Jokes are not good for an open wound. You of all people should know that.
The next day, they’d set sail and leave this place behind. Only a few more hours, and then they could finally forget Thorgunna. Tyrkir quickly threw his coat around his shoulders. From the outer ladder, he shouted to the helmsman, “I have another errand. Tell Leif that I’ll be back soon.”
As troubled as his heart had been that first time, he now happily followed the path through the hilly meadows. Even the angry croaking of the ravens didn’t disturb him.
Trude was huddled on her grass roof milking one of the sheep. Without interrupting the work, she asked, “Are you a Christian after all?”
“Is it important? Your potion worked.”
“And why are you still bothering me?” She blew away an annoying strand of hair from her face. “I had fun showing that bitch which one of us is the best.”
“I wanted to thank you.”
Trude startled, almost knocking over the milk bowl as she whistled at her ravens. “Quiet now!” She looked at Tyrkir suspiciously. “It’s been a long time since I’ve heard that. Repeat it.”
“You saved my godson.” Tyrkir pulled a large piece of silver from his pocket. “And I wanted to thank you for that.”
“Sounds nice.” She stroked the teats again. “You’ve already paid me. Keep your money!”
“We leave Drimore for Norway tomorrow, and you lose me as a customer. Please, take the silver!”
“All right. Just put it in the grass. One of my black sheepherders will bring it to me, and then you can go.”
Tyrkir had already climbed halfway up the hill again when he heard the völva calling. “Hey, German! Good luck. I’ll put in a good word for you with the goddess Ran. Don’t worry. Your ship will get to Norway safely.”
He looked back only briefly, then continued walking and waved until he had crossed the crest.
In the harbor forecourt, Tyrkir hesitated at the booth of a jewelry dealer. Two dainty, finely engraved silver brooches tempted him. I should bring them to Thjodhild.
“Best English work,” the man said, praising his merchandise. “I bought the two pieces at the market in York from the artist himself.”
York? Tyrkir immediately had that taste of sweet spices on his tongue again. No, I don’t ever want to be reminded of York. Without a word, he returned the brooches to the seller and hurried down to the beach.
Fortune stumbled. O great Tyr! Tyrkir spotted her from afar.
Thorgunna. She stood in front of Leif, talking with him in her traveling hood and coat. Worse still, two of her slaves were waiting nearby with the horses, and a horse was loaded with baskets and a wooden chest. My divine friend, begged Tyrkir, do not abandon us now!
Thorgunna glanced at him with a short, evil look, then immediately turned her eyes back to the trembling Eriksson. “Why, star of my heart?” she cooed darkly. “Why won’t you take your beloved with you? Give me a good reason.”
The thoughts buzzed through Tyrkir’s mind. I must not intervene. For the sake of his dignity, the boy must pass this test himself. But how can I help? Slowly, he took two steps back. This way, he could at least keep eye contact with the godson, unnoticed by Thorgunna.
The blood had drained from Leif’s face. Again and again, he moistened his lips. “Because I do not . . . You are from the richest family here. Your father and relatives would hate me if I took you without their permission.”
“What does a woman care about custom and practice once her heart is ignited? I will gladly break all family ties and follow you.” She offered him her hands. “Have courage, my hero. Abduct me!”
Leif staggered. His gaze fled to his uncle but was immediately caught by Thorgunna again. “I am your happiness,” she urged. “Listen only to the voice inside you!”
“That’s just it. There are two voices in me, and they fight with each other and torture me.” Leif suddenly straightened his back. “No!”
As though she’d been struck, Thorgunna clutched at her cheek. “What did you say?”
“No.” His tone was firmer. “In marriage, the mind must give its consent, and the heart can only agree. Nothing more is allowed. Since my mind forbids it, I repeat, no!”
Thorgunna opened her lips and hummed to herself. With a tender gesture, she put her hands under her breast
s and let her body swing gently back and forth.
Astonished, Leif watched her, transfixed. “What’s wrong?”
“I cradle and comfort our child, because his father is abandoning us.”
“No,” he moaned, raising his arms, not knowing where to put them, and lowering them again.
Tyrkir had to intervene. “This is a trick, boy. Do not give in!”
Without interrupting, Thorgunna smiled. “Was your old godfather in my bed? Only you, dearest, know what happened there.”
“I never gave you my word. As soon as I entered your house, I was in another world. You see, I experienced everything as if through a veil.”
“How beautifully you describe our happiness.” She batted her eyelashes at him. “I swear by the Virgin Mary and all the angels, it is a son that I carry under my heart.”
Leif tore himself away. With his back to her, he stared past his ship over the water. “No!” he shouted to the distant horizon, shouted it twice more, and turned back strengthened. “I will leave Drimore without you. Goodbye.”
She released a sigh full of sadness, and with the next breath, her face had changed. A new shimmer rose in her dark eyes. “A woman knows when she has lost, so go without me! But you should not refuse my last wish: give me something that belongs to you and let us sit together by the light of a candle and say goodbye!”
“By Thor, you will never set foot on my ship!” he blurted, then immediately relented. “Forgive me. I mean, goodbye, yes, but not onboard. Here on the beach. I’ll see to lights and seating.”
After some hesitation, she was satisfied.
Visibly lightened, Leif climbed up the outer ladder. As soon as he’d disappeared below deck, she turned her eyes toward Tyrkir. “You spawn of hell,” she hissed, and her tone lost every noble flourish. “I underestimated you, Scarface. It was you. With what poison did you estrange my beloved? Or did someone help you? Tell me!”
Erik the Red Page 29
