by Severin, Tim
‘Would you be Ohthere?’ I enquired politely. ‘Oleif said I might find him here.’
The man turned to face me, stick in hand. He was someone with whom I would avoid a quarrel. Watchful grey eyes were set in a craggy face under bushy eyebrows. He had a dense, black beard and although he was of no more than ordinary height, his barrel chest strained the fabric of his jerkin. Muscular forearms and thick, blunt fingers grasping the stick made it clear that he was not to be trifled with.
‘I’m Ohthere.’ His tone of voice, assured and forceful, matched his appearance.
‘I’m hoping you can tell me about the horse whale, the hross-hvalr. Oleif said they are found in the region where you have your farm.’
Ohthere studied me. I was sure he had seen the colours of my eyes, but he showed no reaction. ‘That’s right. Horse whales haul out on the beaches near me.’
‘Haul out?’
‘They clamber out of the sea and lie on the land, sunning themselves. That’s where they breed and raise their pups. What did you expect?’
‘I had hoped that they were a sort of horse, and maybe some of them have white skins.’ This time I did not want to make an idiot of myself by mentioning unicorns.
Thankfully Ohthere did not laugh. ‘They’re sea animals, big and bloated. Odinn only knows how they came to be called horses. They’re more like whales. That part of their name is accurate.’
‘And none of them are white?’
‘Not that I’ve seen. The only white thing about them is their teeth. Great long fangs. They fetch a good price for carving into ornaments and jewellery.’
Now I knew what animal he was talking about. At Carolus’s court I had seen chess pieces, sword handles and pendants that were said to have been carved from the massive teeth of a sea beast. An image flashed into my mind from the Book of Beasts that Carolus had showed me. As he flicked through the pages, I had caught a quick glimpse of a drawing of a great ungainly animal lying on a rocky shore. It had a bulging body, a tail like a fish, a mournful-looking face, and drooping whiskers. It was not a unicorn, and not what the king had wanted.
Ohthere must have read the disappointment on my face. ‘I’ve heard rumours of a small whale that is as white as snow. But it’s only a rumour.’
‘Thank you for your help. I’m sorry to have disturbed you. Those dogs must be a nuisance,’ I said. Several of the curs had sneaked around behind us while we were talking, and were again at the bars of the pen, snarling and growling.
‘If they get too close, they’ll be sorry,’ said Ohthere. ‘Here, let me show you what I’ve got inside.’ He led me over to the wooden enclosure.
It was more of a large strong cage than a pen. The sides were made of stout timber posts and a number of heavy slats had been laid across to form a roof.
I peered inside.
All that was visible were two grubby yellow shapes on the ground. At first I mistook them for a pair of large and dirty sheep, sound asleep. Then one of the shapes moved slightly and I saw a snout with a black tip and two bright black spots. They were eyes.
‘Yearling ice bears,’ Ohthere announced beside me. Without warning he lashed out with his stick and caught one of the dogs across the rump. It ran off with a howl.
‘They don’t look that dangerous,’ I said, still gazing at the bears. They were both slumped on the ground. The two black eyes had closed.
‘That’s because they’re half-starved.’
‘How did you get them?’ I asked. I was utterly disappointed. I had expected to see a wonderful white creature like the one drawn in the bestiary. Instead, these two creatures looked sick and feeble, and their dirty fur was the colour of urine. They also smelled of piss. I wondered what impression such dejected and mangy animals would make on the caliph of Baghdad in return for his gift of a white elephant to Carolus.
‘The Finna traded them to me,’ Ohthere replied. ‘They had killed the mother bear. They let me have her skin as well. I’ve already sold it.’
‘Who are the Finna?’ I was already wondering if I should travel onwards and contact these people in my quest.
‘They roam the mountains and wastelands near my farm. A native people and always on the move. They come to me, asking to trade metal in exchange for feathers, horse whale teeth and skin rope. You never know when they will turn up or what they will bring for barter. This year they produced two bears.’
Ohthere stared in at the two animals. ‘It’s been impossible to get them to eat properly. They’ll eat a couple of mouthfuls and leave the rest. I’ve tried seal blubber, mutton fat, chicken, milk. I’d say they’re pining for their mother.’
One of the young ice bears had risen to its feet. It was somewhat bigger than I had imagined, the size of a large mastiff. It padded slowly towards the far side of the pen. The gait was strange, sinuous and soft.
‘How big will they grow?’ I enquired.
‘If they live, they’ll be as big as their mother, and her pelt was two fathoms from nose to tail.’
‘They don’t look very dangerous.’ A dog had poked its muzzle between the wooden bars and was barking shrilly at the moving bear. Scarcely were the words out of my mouth than the bear made a sudden pounce, lashing out with its paw. The movement was almost too quick to see. The claws raked the face of the cur. The dog screamed and fled, blood spraying from the wound.
‘You see my problem,’ said Ohthere. ‘You don’t want to get too close when you’re trying to coax them into feeding.’
‘I thought ice bears are white?’
‘In winter the fur is the same colour as the snow and ice. If they were healthy they would not look so shabby.’
‘Are they for sale?’ I asked, turning to look at him.
‘Why else would I have brought them to Scringes Heal?’ he said ruefully. ‘I was hoping that they would regain their appetites, but it seems I was wrong.’
‘I’ll make you an offer,’ I said.
Ohthere looked at me in surprise. ‘What would you want with them?’
‘I’m collecting white animals for King Carolus.’
A smile split the heavy black beard. ‘I can see you are no trader. You would not have been so honest about the identity of your client.’
He frowned at the cage. ‘Come back tomorrow at about this same time. By then I’ll have had time to think about a price. Mind you, I don’t suppose that these two bears will survive much longer. You could finish up delivering only their skins to Carolus.’
As Osric and I walked back towards our ship, I brooded on the discouraging start to our visit to Kaupang. We had found only one white gyrfalcon for sale, and though we were lucky to have come across a pair of ice bears, the two animals were so sickly that it was virtually certain they would die long before they could be brought all the way to far Baghdad. As for a unicorn, the mere mention of such a creature made people burst into mocking laughter.
Chapter Five
WHEN WE GOT BACK to the harbour, Redwald’s cog was already tied against the jetty. A gang of local men was helping his crew unload the cargo. There was no sign of the knorr so she must have sailed for Dunwich. Redwald himself was at the foot of the gangplank, deep in conversation with a tall, bony man whose face seemed vaguely familiar.
‘Find any of the animals you were looking for, Sigwulf?’ the shipmaster asked me cheerfully. Clearly he was in a good humour.
‘A single white gyrfalcon, and two young ice bears.’
‘Gorm tells me he’s hopeful of having a second white gyrfalcon for sale, but someone will have to go and collect it from the trapper.’
The tall man was a dealer in hunting birds, and now I saw his resemblance to the skinny lad who had tended the agitated gyrfalcon. They were probably father and son.
‘Unfortunately, the two ice bears aren’t at all healthy. Their owner fears that they will soon die,’ I said.
‘That’ll be Ohthere,’ said the bird dealer.
‘He’s a farmer who got the bears as cubs from some
people he called the Finna,’ I explained.
Redwald laughed. ‘Some farmer! Ohthere’s farm is as far north as anyone has dared to settle, and he explored and cleared the land himself. He’s as hard as nails.’
Clearly he already knew Ohthere well, and I made a mental note to be vigilant in my dealings with regular visitors to Kaupang market. They seemed to form a close-knit circle and were likely to serve their own interests when it came to setting prices and negotiating deals.
‘I’ve offered to buy the bears and he’s thinking about the price. I’m going back to see him tomorrow,’ I told the shipmaster.
Redwald watched as a porter balanced his way down the unsteady gangplank with several bottles of my Rhenish wine cradled in his arms. ‘Then I’ll come with you. I’ve got my own business in town that needs attention,’ he said.
‘There’s something else I need to discuss with you before then,’ I told him, with a sideways glance at Osric.
Redwald was quick on the uptake. He turned to the bird dealer. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow, Gorm, at your place.’
As Gorm walked off along the jetty, Osric and I followed the shipmaster up the gangplank. When we were out of earshot of the crew, I asked Redwald to be more discreet in his market dealings. ‘I would prefer that as few people as possible know why I’ve come to Kaupang,’ I told him.
He shrugged dismissively, then shocked me by saying, ‘It’s about time we discussed just how you’re going to pay for the goods.’
‘What do you mean?’ I demanded sharply.
‘Come with me and I’ll show you,’ he grunted.
He escorted us down the ladder into the hold, almost empty now except for a few remaining sacks and packing cases. Walo was seated on a sack, guarding our precious saddlebags with the silver coin.
‘I presume those bags contain your funds,’ Redwald announced bluntly.
There was no point in denying it. I nodded.
‘Mind if I take a look?’
‘As you wish,’ I said, though I felt a stab of suspicion.
I asked Walo to bring one of the bags across and he handed it to Redwald.
The shipmaster hefted one of them approvingly. ‘Carolus’s denarii?’ he asked me, raising an eyebrow.
‘Fresh from the Aachen mint.’
Redwald unlaced the saddlebag’s flap and picked out one of the silver coins. He held it up to the light falling in through the open hatch. ‘The Aachen stamp has been changed,’ he announced. ‘The cross in the centre is different, more ornate than before. Mind if I use this coin as a sample?’
‘A sample for what?’ I asked, my suspicions now thoroughly aroused.
‘I’ll show you.’
Keeping the coin, he handed the saddlebag back to Walo and then made his way into the gloomy shadows beneath the overhang of the deck. Rolls of spare sailcloth lay on a shelf built into the stern. Pushing them aside, he reached his arm into the space, felt around for a moment, tugged, and there was a soft thump as something shifted. It was too dark to see what he was doing, but when he turned to face us he was holding a bundle wrapped in oilcloth.
‘Tools of my other trade,’ he announced cryptically. From the package he extracted a set of small weighing scales, their weights, a soft leather pouch fastened with a drawstring, a tiny flask and a fist-sized object wrapped in a cloth bandage. Unwinding the bandage, he produced a flat stone, smooth and black, and laid it on top of a packing case. He unstoppered the tiny flask, dripped a small amount of oil on the surface of the stone, then wiped it. With quick, firm strokes he rubbed Carolus’s coin up and down on the stone, leaving a thin silver streak.
Next, he tipped out the contents of his leather pouch. A jumble of odd-shaped items rattled out on the surface of the packing case. Some were chunky, others flat or slightly dished, many had jagged edges or were thin strips folded over, twisted, and then hammered flat. They were all a dull grey.
‘The sea air takes the shine off them,’ said Redwald, picking out a flat piece about two inches across, one edge smoothly curved. It took me a moment to recognize a scrap of tarnished silver, probably chopped from a silver platter.
Redwald rubbed it against the stone, leaving a second silvery streak, parallel to the first.
‘See any difference?’ he asked Osric who had been watching him closely.
Osric shook his head.
‘It takes experience,’ Redwald told him. ‘The mark from the coin shows good silver, more than nine parts silver to one of copper. I happen to know that the platter fragment is silver mixed with copper, three parts to one.’
He swept up the pile of broken silver pieces and dropped them into the pouch. ‘As I told you, Sigwulf, the Northmen don’t trust coins. If Ohthere sells you those bears, he’ll want most of his payment in broken silver. And he’ll probably expect a couple of pieces of worked jewellery, something bright and gaudy, that he can trade to the Finna in future.’
He began to wind the bandage back around the black stone. ‘It’s going to be a tedious job demonstrating to him that every one of your coins is genuine. I’m not looking forward to it.’ He grimaced. ‘But first we have to agree a price for those bears.’
*
Next morning, I set out with Redwald and Walo for our meeting with Ohthere. Osric had volunteered to stay onboard the ship and watch over our silver hoard. He claimed that his crooked leg was hurting after the previous day’s walk. But the truth was that he and I were both feeling guilty that Walo had not yet had a chance to get off the ship and see Kaupang for himself.
Once again Kaupang’s street was thronged with customers, and as we made our way through the press of people Redwald drew my attention to two brawny individuals loitering outside one of the small wooden houses.
‘Hired guards. Every year that same house is rented by a dealer in precious gems and metals.’
At that moment the crowd ahead of us hurriedly parted to allow a group of half a dozen men to stride through. They were armed with swords and daggers and their leader was a big, red-faced fellow with a truculent expression. Walo had fallen behind to examine some wooden trinkets on a stall and was in their path. Redwald hastily turned back, grabbed him and pulled him aside. After the group had disappeared into one of the taverns, Redwald explained quietly that the man at the head of the group was a minor jarl, a local lord. His companions were his retainers and it was wise to steer clear of such people as they took offence easily.
A few steps further on, Walo again needed to be rescued. He had halted in front of a display of skins and furs, and the stallholder snapped at him to stop fingering the merchandise. Redwald quickly intervened. ‘That’s a sealskin, Walo,’ he explained.
‘It is like a big otter,’ said Walo, stroking the glossy pelt.
‘He can handle it all he wants, once he’s paid for it,’ grumbled the vendor, an old man with a long, lugubrious face and a heavy scarf wound around his neck despite the warm day.
‘Where did those white skins come from?’ I asked him. In a pile of smaller furs were several pelts that were a soft, lustrous white.
‘Winter fox and hare,’ said the old man.
My hopes rose. ‘Can I obtain these animals alive?’
‘They’re no good to you, Sigwulf,’ Redwald intervened. ‘By the time you get the creatures to the caliph they’ll have turned back to their normal brown. The animals are white in winter only.’
‘How about this, then? Fit for a jarl’s cloak,’ coaxed the old man. Struggling with the weight of it, he unrolled a massive white bearskin. The head and paws were still attached. I had witnessed the injuries inflicted on a dog by the hooked black claws of a yearling bear. Now the huge teeth set in the gaping jaw of an adult made me shudder. There was no need to confirm with the old man that he had purchased the bearskin from Ohthere.
We found Ohthere himself on the edge of town, as before, staring moodily in through the wooden bars of the stout cage. The two yearling ice bears were slumped on the bare earth, eyes closed. They lay
so still that it was difficult to tell whether they were even breathing. Just inside the cage’s heavy door was placed a wooden water trough. Beside it were two trenchers heaped with what looked like strips of yellowy-white pig fat with thick black rind.
‘They’re still refusing to eat,’ said Ohthere, his frustration evident. He had his wooden stick with him and put the tip between the bars of the cage and pushed one of the trenchers closer to the nose of an ice bear.
Both animals ignored him.
‘What are you trying to feed them?’ asked Redwald.
‘Whale blubber, from my own larder.’
‘You must be getting desperate,’ teased the shipmaster. It was obvious that the two men were on friendly terms.
The shipmaster turned to me. ‘Ohthere has a weakness for whale blubber and hoards the stuff like a child. Don’t know why. It tastes vile.’
Ohthere snorted. ‘Not everyone thinks so. Wait here a minute.’ He strode off in the direction of his leather tent.
Redwald peered in at the two ice bears. ‘Are you sure about buying them, Sigwulf? They look as though they’re not long for this world.’
‘I’ll have to take that chance. They’re the only ones available, and maybe we can find a way of making them eat.’
Redwald shrugged resignedly. ‘Leave the negotiations to me. At least I should be able to get them cheaply because they’re half-starved.’
‘I’ve already told Ohthere that they are for King Carolus,’ I confessed. ‘I’m afraid that will have put up the price considerably.’
Ohthere emerged from his tent holding a slab of something in his hand. We walked across to meet him as he held it up for our inspection. One side had a thick skin, dark and slightly wrinkled. The rest of it was pale yellowish-white, two inches thick, and resembled solid jelly.
‘Best whale blubber, air dried,’ he announced. ‘Here, try a bite.’
He took a sailor’s knife from his belt, cut off a small cube, and offered it to me.
I popped the piece of whale blubber into my mouth and chewed cautiously, not knowing what to expect. The taste was surprisingly pleasant. As I bit down, I felt the oil squeeze out and run down my throat. It was vaguely soothing and reminded me faintly of hazelnuts.
