"The men in the boat were evil, like the raiders had been. They had not gone far from shore when my mother saw one of them hit my father over the head, and they threw him overboard into the waters of the lake. Then they turned their boat and rowed back toward our camp.
"I had been in the woods, gathering firewood. I did not see it happen. I heard my mother scream and ran to her. I reached our camp just as the evil men's boat reached the shore. My mother told me they had killed my father. She told me to run. She picked up my brother—he was but two years of age—and ran, too. I was so frightened. I fled into the forest, as fast as I could run. My mother could not keep up. I heard her scream again, but I was too afraid to go back and help her."
Rauna hung her head and began weeping.
"It was right for you to run," I told her. "It was what your mother wanted you to do. You could not have helped her."
"You cannot know that," she said bitterly. "You were not there."
"Do you remember the man Jarl Hastein, my captain, spoke of? The evil man Toke? You asked me about him?"
She nodded.
"He and other men attacked a farm back in my homeland. They killed all of the women and children there. In the end, my brother and I were surrounded by them. My brother told me to run. He did not want me to die there with him. I did run, and I escaped, but he was killed. I know the pain that is in your heart. But you did what your mother wanted you to do. You could not have helped her."
She raised her head and stared at my face, studying it. She had stopped weeping now, but her cheeks were streaked from her tears, and her breath came in sniffling gasps.
"Is this true? Or do you lie to me?"
"It is the truth. I ran because my brother asked me to. It was what he wanted for me. I could not have helped him. I could only have died as well. But now I have sworn to kill all who played a part in his death. It is why I survived."
"The men who killed my mother are already dead," she murmured.
"Tell me what happened."
"Later that day, as darkness was beginning to fall, I crept back toward our camp. I found their bodies. Because she was carrying my brother, my mother could not run fast enough to escape. They had crushed my brother's skull against the trunk of a tree and left him lying there. They had torn my mother's clothes from her, and they had, they had…." She shook her head. Her eyes were staring as if she could see her mother in her mind—what she had found that day—and there was a look of horror on her face.
"They had raped her?" I asked.
She shook her head again as if to clear it, and looked at me. "What is…raped?"
"When a man lies with a woman against her will. When he forces himself on her."
"Your people would have a word for such a thing," she said bitterly. "My people have no such word. It is not a thing that happens among us. Yes, they had raped my mother, and then killed her."
"But what of your father? Clearly he lived."
She nodded. "When the evil men threw him into the lake, the cold water woke him. But he was like you, after you were hit—he was weak and confused. He managed to swim to shore, but then fell into blackness again. I found him the next morning, lying in a bed of reeds a short distance down from our camp.
"I buried my mother and brother. I was glad my father did not see her in death. But I knew how much he had loved her. I cut off a piece of her braid, for him to remember her by. It is what was in the bag he wore around his neck—the bag he asked you to give to me. I moved our camp into the forest, where it could not be seen from the shore. And I nursed my father until his strength returned.
"My father said we must go to Birka. He said the men who had robbed him, and had killed my mother and brother, were surely from there. He said what they had done had broken the rules of the people of Birka. He told me the leader there—the man Barne had taken him to meet—was a good man, who would see that the evil men were punished.
"My father told me that there were always many very large boats—ships—at Birka, for people came there to trade from many distant lands. Barne had told him the ships came up from the south, through a narrow channel that led to the sea. My father said we would walk around the shore of the lake until we reached the channel, and there we would ask one of the ships coming from the sea to carry us to Birka.
"I begged my father not to. I was afraid. I told him that even if a boat stopped, they would just do to us what the other evil men had done. But he would not listen. He told me not all of the others were evil. He said there were many good men among them, like Barne, and like the leader of Birka, and that the good men would help us.
"It took us four days to reach the mouth of the channel. We waited there another day before a ship came up from the south. The first ship that passed did not stop when we signaled to them. After that happened, my father went into the forest and found and killed a deer. He hung its body so it could be seen from the channel, so any ship that passed would know we had meat to trade. The next ship to pass did stop. I wish it had not. My father might still be alive today if we had not gone aboard it. The captain of the ship was Sigvald."
"Sigvald?" I exclaimed. "The chieftain of the pirates? He was at Birka?"
Rauna nodded. "He had many goods aboard his ship. He had brought them to Birka to sell. He and his men had many weapons. To me they seemed much like the men who had attacked our people during the winter. They frightened me. But they did not harm us.
"My father told Sigvald why we had traveled from our own lands to Birka. He told him of the raiders, and how we had come to seek help against them. He also told Sigvald how the evil men had tricked him and robbed him and had killed my mother and brother. My father told Sigvald he needed to go to Birka to tell the leader there what had happened, so he would punish the men for breaking the rules of their people. He told Sigvald he and his men could have the deer, if they would carry us there."
She fell silent. "What did Sigvald do?" I asked her. "What did he say?"
She shook her head. "It made no sense to me. At first, he just laughed. All of his men, who had gathered around to hear my father's words, laughed. Then he asked my father how well he could shoot his bow.
"I could tell my father was angry, but he was trying to hide it. He turned to me and said, ‘Come, we must go.' But Sigvald said that if my father could hit a target that he named, then he and his men would take us to Birka. When my father made the shot he set for him, Sigvald nodded and smiled, and the men with him did, too.
"I am certain Sigvald knew what would happen in Birka. My father found the leader. At first he would not even speak to us, but my father reminded him that they had met before, with Barne. Barne's name made him at least listen to what my father had to say. But he gave us no help. He said what had happened in the winter, in the lands of our people, was no concern of his. He said my father had no way of knowing that the men who had robbed him, and had killed my mother and brother, were from Birka, and that even if they were, the rules my father spoke of—the rules of the people of Birka—were not for our people. He said he was sorry—I remember hearing him say that, and thinking that he lied—but there was nothing he could do to help us.
"Sigvald had gone with us to see the leader of Birka. Afterward, he told my father that the men who had killed my mother and brother could only be made to pay one way. He said my father must find them and kill them himself. Sigvald said he would help my father do this, but there would be a price. He said he needed men who were skilled with a bow. He said if my father would agree to serve him for one year, he would help him find the men who had killed my mother. After the year had ended, my father and I would be free to return to our home if we wished, and we would have riches to take with us."
"You father agreed?" I asked. She nodded. "And Sigvald helped him find the men who had killed your mother and brother?" She nodded again.
"He took us on his ship up to where our camp had been. He said that if they had been fishing in these waters that day, sooner or later they would
likely come again. For two days he and his men rowed their ship along the shore there. Four times we saw small boats with men in them, fishing, and we approached them, but they were not the ones. But the fifth boat we found, on the second day, held the evil men. Sigvald rowed his ship up alongside, and one by one, my father shot them dead with his bow.
"He had never killed a man before. He had thought it would be a good thing, to kill those men. He thought there was, as Sigvald told him, a blood-price they had to pay. But he was never the same after that. And then, later, we learned the true nature of the bargain my father had made. Sigvald and his men were no different than the raiders who had attacked our lands. Although he never talked to me about it, I knew that sometimes, when Sigvald took his ships out to hunt, my father killed other men, too—men who had never done him any wrong. My father was changing—he was no longer the same man he once had been. It was as if something in his spirit had died."
We sat in silence for a while. What Rauna had told me explained many things. But it left me with a problem. There would be no one in Birka who might be able to help her return to her people. I could not leave her there.
Thunder rumbled in the distance. A cold wind began blowing in off of the sea. It carried a mist that hinted of rain soon to come.
"There will be a storm this night," Rauna said, sniffing the wind. She hesitated, then added, "You can sleep in my tent—this night only. Out of the rain. I am not saying you can come to my bed. Do you understand that?"
I nodded.
She stood and walked to her tent, not looking back to see if I would follow. I rose unsteadily to my feet, gathered up the fur coverings that had formed my pallet, and staggered after her.
* * *
The following day Hastein again elected, as he had after first leaving Oeland, to sail through the night rather than stop and make camp. We had no way of knowing whether Toke was still at Birka. If good fortune had smiled on him, one or more slavers who traded with the Araby kingdoms had been in Birka when he'd arrived, and Toke was already well on his way to Ireland by now. But Hastein did not want the desire for a hot meal and a good night's sleep ashore to delay us as long as there was still a chance fortune might smile upon us, instead—as long as there was any hope we might catch Toke at Birka.
We reached the broad mouth of the inlet leading to Birka early the following morning. The night of the feast, Nori had told Hastein how to recognize it, for before the pirates had come and burned their ships, the Oelanders had regularly traveled to Birka to trade. It was a good thing that he had spoken to Hastein about it, because the coastline we'd been passing for some time now had been an indistinguishable maze of inlets, bays, and small islands.
"You must watch for an island, located in the center of the mouth of a large bay, that has a steep rocky peak rising out of the sea in front of it, taller than the mast of a ship," he'd said. "On its seaward side, there is a great eye painted in white on the face of the peak. It is painted red in times of war. It represents the eye of Odin, the one-eyed god who sees all. It is said that the kings of the Sveas are descended from him. There is a small temple to Odin on the island behind the rock, which is maintained by the pilots who guide ships to Birka. There are always some of them on the island. You can hire one there."
"Will we need a pilot?" Hastein had asked.
Nori had nodded vigorously. "Oh yes. If you have never been to Birka, it can be a challenge to find. It is quite some distance inland from the sea. There are many small channels leading inland from the bay, but only one leads all the way to where the waters widen into the great lake where the island of Bjorko lies, in its center. Birka is there, on Bjorko. You will need a pilot to find the correct channel. And even if you did manage to find the channel without a pilot, it can be dangerous to travel through without a guide, for in some stretches there are great rocks that lie beneath its surface, that were put there by the Sveas to protect the access from the sea to Birka and the lands beyond. The channel is very narrow where the rocks are, so it can be easily blocked if need be."
The island was as Nori had described it. We had just passed a long, low-lying island when Torvald gave a shout from the stern of the Serpent and pointed into a bay that opened up beyond it. In the distance a gray stone pillar jutted up out of the sea. An island lay behind it. On the sheer face of the pillar was the white outline of a giant eye, taller than a man.
We lowered our sails and unshipped our oars as we neared the pillar. The narrow end of the island that lay just behind was split by a long cove that provided a sheltered harbor. At its far end, two small-boats were pulled up on the shore, and a rickety-looking wooden pier jutted out over the water. A low, square wooden building constructed of logs—presumably the temple Nori had spoken of—sat like a crown on the crest of a bald-topped hill that overlooked the cove.
When we entered the cove and rowed toward the pier, five men came out of the temple and stood watching. As we tied up our ships along either side of the pier, two of them headed down the hillside toward us.
While Hastein and Torvald walked to meet the two, the rest of us scrambled ashore to make the most of our brief stop. We were stiff and sore from so many hours aboard the cramped, crowded decks of the Gull and Serpent.
Rauna and I had spoken but little since she had told me what had happened in Birka. Once ashore, she headed with a quick pace toward a nearby tree line, where the island's forest cover grew close to the water's edge.
"Rauna!" I called. "Wait! I will come with you."
She turned back toward me and frowned. "I do not want you to come. I wish to be alone for a little while."
I understood. There is no privacy aboard a longship. Throughout the day while we were at sea, as they felt the need members of the Gull's crew would drop their trousers and relieve themselves over the side or squat over a bucket. I realized how awkward the situation was for Rauna. I would not wish to be the only woman aboard a ship crowded with warriors, and have them all stare at me while I relieved myself.
"You can be alone," I said as I caught up to her. "But we do not know who is on this island. I will just wait nearby. That way you will be safe."
She considered my words for a moment, then nodded. When we reached the trees, she said, "Wait here," and walked to a patch of undergrowth growing between two large oaks, disappearing behind it.
Although my head still had a dull ache, I was feeling more like myself. I had even felt strong enough to man an oar as we'd rowed the Gull into the cove, although as I'd done so, Gudfred's warning came back to me, and I'd hoped the effort would not cause me to suddenly fall over dead. It was with a sense of relief that I had shipped my oar when we'd docked.
After Rauna reemerged, we walked slowly back toward the ships. "I have been thinking much about what happened to your family in Birka," I told her. "It is good that you told me. I see now that I cannot leave you there."
"Then where will you leave me?"
"I have lands back in Denmark, on Jutland. They are my family's lands. When this voyage is over, you can come back there. You can live on my lands, and be a part of my household. You will not be back among your own people, but at least you will be safe there." I sighed. This was not a thing I wished to do. I wanted to be free of her, but I could see no other way. She would be helpless, and would soon be preyed upon, if I left her in Birka—or anywhere else, for that matter.
"What will you do with me there?" she asked warily.
Did she think I would make her a slave? Or use her as a concubine?
"Nothing," I answered. "You will be a free woman. There are a number of free men and women in the household." We were nearing the pier now. Gudfred was standing on the shore near its end, talking with Einar. I pointed at him. "Gudfred, there, is one of the carls—one of the free men—from the estate. You will be expected to work, of course. Everyone must work. But that is all."
Perhaps she would catch the eye of someone from the village, and they could take her for their wife. That would be the bes
t solution. A villager would not expect to wed a wife with a dowry. I decided I should try to encourage Bram to get to know her.
My answer did not satisfy her. "Will I have to share your bed? Will others want me to share their beds?"
"You will be a free woman," I said again. "It will be your choice whether you share your bed with anyone. No one will force you."
"My mother was a free woman. All of my people are free. That has not protected us from the men of your kind."
"You will be safe there. I promise it. I can do nothing more for you than this. Do you wish it or not?"
By now we had reached the shore. Rauna did not answer, but put her head down and hurried away, out onto the pier to the Gull.
Hastein and Torvald had returned. A short, bald-headed man with a round belly and a white beard was with them. Both Hastein and Torvald had scowls on their faces.
"Reboard the ships!" Torvald called, in a booming voice. "Draw oars, and prepare to get underway. We are leaving."
The short man scampered down the pier and climbed aboard the Gull. As the members of our two crews filed down the narrow pier behind him, I pulled Hastein aside. "You and Torvald look angry," I said. "Is there trouble? Do we not have a pilot to show us the way to Birka?"
Torvald answered. "Oh, aye, we have a pilot. It is that fat, greedy little dwarf who just boarded the Gull."
"Then what is the problem?" I asked.
"He is charging us ten silver pennies to guide our two ships to Birka! The regular fee the pilots here charge a ship is five pennies. But he is charging us ten, because we have two ships. He is not going to be piloting the Serpent! I will just be following the Gull."
"There is more to it than that," Hastein added. "The pilot—his name is Alf—is a nosy little man, who asks many questions but gives few answers. Had we been Norse, or Gotars, or even Vends or Franks, I do not think he would have cared. He would have taken his five pennies per ship, shown us the route to Birka, and that would have been that. But he took great interest in the fact that we are Danes. Once he realized that we are, he became very curious—too curious—about us. Where had we sailed from? How long had we been traveling? What was the purpose of our voyage? There is something about him I do not trust. Keep a close watch on him."
The Long Hunt (The Strongbow Saga) Page 28
