Wolfspell

by Anna Ciddor

  That day everything seemed to go wrong. When he needed more chumps for the fire, he discovered the wood stack was low. Now he’d have to chop down a tree – a job he hated. He laid his hands against the trunk just the way Thora had shown him, and begged the little elm tree’s forgiveness. But even so, when he lifted his axe he felt like a murderer and he couldn’t bring himself to attack the tree. Instead, he spent the rest of the day gathering fallen branches in the wood.

  By the time night fell, he was too tired to bother cooking. He scraped at the lumps of porridge left over from breakfast, and filled the pot again for the morning. As he crawled exhausted into bed, his eye fell on the little table he’d made the night before. He hauled himself up again, brushed all the breadcrumbs off the big table into the palm of his hand and tipped them on the low table where the Little Folk could reach them. Then at last he closed his eyes and went to sleep.

  When Oddo woke next morning he kept his eyes closed and snuggled under the cover, reluctant to start on his chores. Before he could even eat breakfast, he’d have to fetch a bucket of water from the river, relight the fire, grind the barley grains to make the flour, cook the oats, knead the dough . . . And then he’d have to rush off to the wood and search for lichen for the animals.

  His belly gave a growl of hunger. Sighing, Oddo opened his eyes and started to push back his cover. Then he stopped, startled. The room wasn’t cold. Or dark. And wasn’t that the smell of cooking?

  He looked towards the firepit. The flames were crackling merrily and the pot was already bubbling and steaming. Bewildered, Oddo got out of bed and padded across the room. Who had lit the fire? His bare foot brushed against something soft and he bent to pick it up. It was small and grey, and looked like a bundle of cobwebs. Was it a spider’s nest? As he twirled it in his fingers, admiring the way the threads were woven, he suddenly realised what it was. A tiny hood! He stared at it. There was only one person who could have dropped a hood like that. One of the Little Folk!

  ‘Where are you?’ cried Oddo, whirling around. ‘Where are you? Let me see you!’

  Silence. Nobody answered. The crumbs were gone but there were no more signs of the Little Folk. Oddo laid the tiny hood on the table, and sat down gratefully to eat. As he spooned up his porridge, he gazed round the room, working out what chores he still had to do.

  ‘I’ve got to fetch the water,’ he thought, ‘and I’ll let the animals know I’m finding them some food.’

  He finished eating and picked up the water bucket.

  Suddenly, he realised there were no sounds coming from the barn. For a moment, his heart seemed to stop. What had happened to the animals? Had he left the barn door open? Had a wolf got in? Oddo tore out of the house, terrified of what he might find. But when he turned the corner, he found the low door shut, and the cows and sheep all safely behind it, munching in contented silence on a big pile of lichen.

  ‘Oh,’ breathed Oddo. This, too, must be the work of the Little Folk. ‘Thank you!’

  Grinning with happiness, Oddo turned away and took a step towards the river. Then he stopped. Had he just seen a flicker of something moving where it shouldn’t have been? He spun round. There was something sliding down the back of a sheep! It was . . .

  Banging the door open, he charged across the room. The sheep bleated in astonishment as his fingers raked her fleece and patted frantically at the scattered lichen. Then he dropped back on his heels, and shook his head.

  Could that have been a tiny man he saw sliding down the sheep? Or was it just a falling leaf?

  10

  Ulf pays a visit

  ‘Calm down!’ Thora exclaimed, irritated that Oddo wasn’t the least bit interested in the lichen she’d picked for him on her way. ‘I can’t understand a word you’re saying.’

  Oddo took a deep breath and spoke more slowly.

  ‘I think . . . I saw one!’ he said.

  Thora looked at him in exasperation.

  ‘Saw one what?’ she demanded.

  ‘One of the Little Folk!’

  ‘Oh, Oddo, you just imagined it because you’ve been wanting to see them for so long!’ said Thora. ‘Nobody sees the Little Folk.’

  ‘Well, anyway,’ said Oddo, ‘they’ve been here. Look!’ He grabbed her hand and dragged her into the house. He pointed dramatically at the firepit. ‘See, they lit the fire and made my breakfast!’ He bent down to pick up something and thrust it in front of her face. ‘And they dropped this!’ Before she had time to see what he was showing her, he was dragging her outside again and round the side of the house. He hung over the barn door and pointed at the floor. ‘Look, they left a big pile of lichen. They picked it and brought it for me. Well, what do you think of that?’ He turned to grin at her.

  Thora stared at the lichen.

  ‘You are very lucky!’ she said, but she couldn’t help feeling rather peeved. Now Oddo wouldn’t need her help any more.

  ‘Oddo!’ a voice called. Farmer Ulf was striding across the yard. ‘How’s our little wolf-friend getting on?’ Thora saw Oddo blush with embarrassment. ‘Coping all right on your own, hey, coping all right?’

  ‘Everything’s fine, thank you,’ said Oddo.

  ‘Good, good. So you don’t need any help, hey, don’t need any help? Just thought I’d pop in before I go.’ He rubbed his hands together. ‘We’re off on a Viking raid. Loading the boat now.’

  Thora saw Oddo straighten up, alert, like Hairydog when she heard a strange sound.

  ‘Farmer Ulf,’ he asked, ‘will you be passing near the Gula Thing?’

  Ulf scratched his head. ‘Well, yes, I suppose we will,’ he said. ‘I suppose we will.’

  Oddo looked at Thora, and raised his eyebrows. She guessed what he was planning, and nodded in encouragement.

  ‘Farmer Ulf,’ said Oddo,‘we need to get to the Gula Thing. Could you give us a lift in your boat?’

  ‘What? You and this lassie?’

  Oddo and Thora nodded together.

  ‘And why are you needing to go there?’

  ‘I’m going to sell herbs and earn silver to pay our taxes,’ Thora explained.

  ‘And I have to tell the court that Grimmr the Greedy is trying to steal our land!’ said Oddo.

  ‘Is he now?’ Ulf’s merry face grew solemn. ‘And do you think the court will listen to you?’

  ‘They’ll have to!’ said Oddo.

  ‘But who will look after this farm, hey? If you’re coming with us, you’ll have to leave right now!’

  ‘That’s all right,’ said Oddo. ‘There’s someone who’ll look after it for me.’

  Thora realised he meant the Little Folk.

  ‘But Oddo . . .!’ she cried.

  ‘It’s fine,’ he said fiercely. ‘I know they’ll do it.’

  ‘Well,’ Ulf shrugged. ‘We can take you, yes, we can take you. There’ll be room on the way up. But you’ll need to find your own way back.’

  Thora looked at Oddo. They had no choice.

  ‘We’ll manage,’ she said.

  Ulf slapped his thighs. ‘Right, see you at the boat, then!’ he said. ‘Don’t keep us waiting.’

  There was no time for long farewells and explanations. Thora burst into the long room where her family were all busy at their spells.

  ‘I’m off to the Gula Thing!’ she panted. She scooped up little Sissa and planted kisses on her soft cheeks.

  ‘You’re not going away again!’ wailed Ketil, grabbing her skirt. Thora bent down to give him a hug.

  ‘Just for a little while,’ she said. ‘I’ve got to get some silver to pay our taxes.’ She glanced around the room. The rest of her family had all stopped what they were doing to stare at her with startled faces. ‘You’ll have to manage without me again,’ she said, glad she wouldn’t be here to eat the foul brews her mother would be sure to concoct. It was all very well for the rest of them. They could say spells to save themselves from the lethal effects of poisonous leaves and toadstools, but Thora couldn’t do spellwork. Sh
e was only good at herbal remedies.

  ‘And how will you be making your journey?’ inquired her father, rising slowly and brushing stone dust from his tunic.

  ‘Farmer Ulf is taking us in his longship,’ said Thora. ‘Oddo’s coming too. He’s got to ask for a judgement at the Thing. Grimmr the Greedy is trying to steal his father’s land.’

  ‘In that case, he must have a runestone to bring him good fortune,’ said Runolf. ‘I will carve it now.’

  ‘Quick,’ said Thora anxiously. ‘If I’m too late, they’ll leave without me!’

  Racing into the storehouse, she crammed pots and jars, herbs and spices into a basket and whirled out the door again.

  Runolf was just finishing the stone when she came back, and Ketil held her hand as she jigged impatiently from side to side. As soon as the rune was ready, she grabbed her basket and a small cauldron and dashed from the room.

  The sound of Ketil wailing ‘Thora! Thora!’ followed her through the wood.

  When the longship, rocking at its moorings, came into view, she paused for an instant to drink in the sight.

  ‘The dragon ship!’ she breathed.

  The carved dragon-head, glittering in gold paint, seemed to wink at her in the sunlight, and the flag of black and amber waved from the top of the mast.

  Hairydog leaned over the side to bark encouragement. The sail was already unfurling. Ulf, looking grim in a metal helmet with sinister eyeholes, beckoned furiously.

  Thora ran down the hill and clambered on board. Before she had time to catch her breath, men were lifting the gangplank and the boat was on its way.

  11

  The Gula Thing

  Thora stood in the bow, her arms wrapped round the neck of the dragon, and watched the shore drawing closer. Ahead lay the Thingvöll, flat and treeless, ringed by low hills, and filled with people talking, laughing, selling and buying.

  Thora sighed. The men on the longship were sailing off to adventures on foreign shores. She could picture it all in her mind: the silent approach along a river, a peaceful village looming into sight, Ulf giving a signal, the longship gliding up to the bank . . . And then the burst of noise as the Vikings bounded over the sides, yelling blood-curdling cries; the glint of the sun on their helmets, the flash of their swords, the thud of axes . . .

  She was jolted from her reverie by a splash of salty water on her face as the anchor landed in the sea. The vision of battle faded, and there in front was the peaceful shore of the Thingvöll.

  Oddo and Hairydog leapt over the side and waded through the shallow water.

  ‘Come on, Thora!’ yelled Oddo.

  Regretfully, Thora turned and picked up her basket and cauldron.

  ‘Why don’t you come with us, hey?’ said Ulf suddenly. ‘Why don’t you come with us? We could do with a young lass who knows how to heal!’

  Thora stared at him. She could be there! She could be standing on this very deck when the men leapt into battle! And she would see them coming back, laden with their glittering loot. She would be there with her healing potions when they carried the wounded on board, and they’d heap her with praise and gratitude. And jewels and gold.

  ‘Come on, Thora! Hurry up!’ yelled Oddo again.

  Thora looked at him. He was prancing up and down, his face eager, his hands empty. He’d rushed out of the house, not thinking to bring any food or equipment with him.

  ‘He’s as useless at practical things as my family!’ thought Thora. She smiled ruefully and turned back to Ulf. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I can’t come with you . . . this time.’

  As she waded ashore she didn’t turn back to watch the longship sail away. She fixed her eyes on the Thingvöll, and Hairydog, seeing her approach, bounded off ahead.

  The plain wasn’t as peaceful as it had looked from a distance. In fact, it was a gigantic, rowdy party. Musicians with horns and drums added their rumpus to the cacophony of shouting, squeals and laughter. Jugglers boldly tossed their flaming torches among the press of moving bodies. Ragged beggars cried for alms, and hawkers cried their wares. Oddo and Thora climbed a hill for a better view. Directly below them, two men, stripped to the waist, were fighting over a deer hide, tugging it to and fro to the shouted encouragement of onlookers.

  Nearby, two horses were rearing on their hind legs and lunging at each other with bared teeth and lashing hoofs. Their owners danced around them in a frenzy, prodding them with sharp sticks, yelling and egging them on, while the crowd roared with delight.

  The sun began to set and the orange glow was reflected in the snow of distant mountains. Down on the plain, people’s faces flushed with pink and the shadows became deep pits of blackness.

  ‘We’d better find a place to sleep!’ said Oddo.

  They made their way back down the hill, and paused to listen to a storyteller reciting a saga of bold adventurers, kings and battles, ocean voyages and distant lands. Nearby, a boy lit a fire and began to roast a pan of nuts. Oddo drew in a deep, delicious breath.

  ‘Hot nuts! Hot nuts for sale!’ called the boy, and very soon he was doing a busy trade.

  Oddo leaned close to Thora’s ear. ‘You’ll be selling your herbs like that tomorrow,’ he said.

  Thora nodded happily.

  Gradually the lights of other campfires sprang up as people began to prepare their evening meals. Oddo lit a fire too. Thora filled the cauldron with barley grains and water and they sat down to wait for it to cook. Darkness fell, and the plain became a field of blackness dotted with patches of flame. The rowdy party noises dropped to a quiet murmur.

  After supper, Oddo and Thora rolled themselves in their cloaks and curled up close to the fire.

  The next thing Oddo knew was the donging of a bell and the light of early morning. He sat up and looked around. People were hurrying from all directions towards a wide ring of stones set up at the foot of the hill. Oddo scrambled to his feet. Hairydog woke too and jumped up, ready to join him.

  ‘No, Hairydog, you stay with Thora,’ said Oddo.

  Thora was groaning and rubbing her eyes.

  ‘I’ve got to go right now!’ Oddo told her. ‘The law court’s starting!’

  By the time he reached the circle, people were packed three or four deep around it. He tried to squeeze his way in, but the men in front turned and glared.

  ‘What do you want, pipsqueak?’ said one of them. ‘This is no place for kids!’

  Oddo stood on one of the stones and bobbed up and down, trying to see over their heads. One of the Thingmen was climbing the hill. When he reached the summit, he turned to face the crowd and lifted his hand for silence.

  ‘The Gula Thing commences now!’ he declared. ‘If any man has sought to violate the peace of this gathering by bringing weapons into the sacred circle, let him be banished!’

  Oddo’s hand flew guiltily to his belt, but with relief he realised he’d left his dagger behind when he’d rushed to join the court.

  ‘If any man should leave the circle because he sets a higher value on food and ale than on this meeting, he shall have no hearing of his complaints.’

  Oddo’s heart sank. Did that mean he had to go without food all day? But he hadn’t even eaten breakfast! He clenched his fists and pressed his lips together. Somehow, he’d have to manage.

  ‘And now I will speak the laws!’ said the man. He cleared his throat and began to intone: ‘Any man who robs another of his goods shall restore them and atone to the King with the payment of a baug. Now the chattels that may be tendered in payment of the baug shall be as follows. A cow to be given in payment must be sound and whole as to horn and tail and eyes and teats and in all her feet. Sheep to be given in payment must be . . .’

  His voice droned on. Oddo found it hard to concentrate. He twisted round and gazed enviously at all the wives, children and tradespeople who didn’t have to bother with this. Thora was somewhere in that crowd of lucky people walking, talking and eating!

  Cautiously, he lifted one foot and tried to wiggle
it, but immediately he overbalanced and fell against the man in front of him. The man turned angrily.

  ‘I thought I told you to go away!’ he growled.

  ‘Sorry, sorry!’ said Oddo.

  At last the Law Speaker finished his long recital, and returned down the hill. Now there was a stirring in the crowd – people jostling forward, voices shouting. Oddo, seeing his chance, stepped off his stone, lowered his head, and pushed. Suddenly he felt himself bursting out of the crush, and before he could stop himself he was sprawling on the ground in front of the crowd.

  Oddo heard the shouting voices die away. He looked up and saw the Law Speaker pointing at him.

  ‘Little boy, what are you doing here?’ boomed the Speaker.

  Oddo scrambled to his feet, conscious of everyone staring at him.

  ‘Sire, I’m here to plead a case for my father.’

  ‘And why has your father sent a child in his stead? Has he no respect for the dignity of this court?’

  There was a murmur around the circle. Oddo swallowed. ‘Sire, my father doesn’t know I’m here. He doesn’t even know about Grimmr the Greedy. I mean, he doesn’t know about Grimmr the Greedy stealing our land. You see, he left me in charge of the farm and he went off in the boat . . .’

  Oddo felt his face burning with embarrassment and his voice trailed away.

  ‘Well,’ said the Law Speaker. ‘If you’re here to plead a case, then do so! Summons this Grimmr the Greedy. Summons your witnesses!’ The Law Speaker seated himself on his stool next to the other Thingmen and looked expectant. Someone prodded Oddo in the back.

  ‘Go on, don’t keep everyone waiting!’

  Terrified, Oddo stumbled across the open space of the law court. What was he supposed to say? What should he do?

  He stood in front of the row of stern faces and opened his mouth.