by Anna Ciddor
Sigrid saw that Oddo was awake and jerked her head in Bolverk’s direction.
‘I don’t know what’s got into your father this morning. I’ve never known him sleep so late. Get out of bed and rouse him, will you?’ she asked.
His heart thudding with nervous excitement, Oddo slid his feet to the ground and crossed the room. He bent over Bolverk and whispered eagerly, ‘Father, Father!’
There was no break in the snoring. Oddo reached out his hand and tentatively patted his father’s cheek.
‘Father!’ he called more loudly.
Bolverk went on snoring. Oddo looked helplessly at his mother. Sigrid crossed the room and looked down at her husband, her hands on her hips and a frown on her face. Then she bent down and shook his shoulder.
‘Husband, rouse up!’ she said.
Bolverk’s head rolled from side to side as Sigrid shook him, but his eyes didn’t open and he didn’t wake. By this time Hairydog had joined the group round the bed. She lifted her front paws onto Bolverk’s chest and began to lick his face.
If he’d been awake, Bolverk would have yelled at the dog and shoved her away. It was scary to see him just lying there, taking no notice of anything.
‘Bolverk!’ Sigrid’s voice was panicky now. She grabbed her husband by both shoulders and almost yanked him out of bed. Hairydog fell back, barking.
Oddo stared at his mother with wide, frightened eyes. Was this because of his runestone? Had something gone wrong?
‘Bring me water and a cloth,’ said Sigrid.
Oddo grabbed the bucket and looked frantically around for a cloth. A piece of brightly coloured weaving lay on the workbench next to his mother’s loom. He picked it up and carried the bucket and cloth to Sigrid.
Sigrid dipped the cloth in the bucket and began to trickle water over her husband’s face. Streams of red gushed over Bolverk’s forehead and down his cheeks.
‘Aaagh!’ screamed Sigrid. She looked at the cloth. ‘Oddo, you fool! That dye wasn’t set yet. Why can’t you do anything right? Now go to that chest in the corner and bring me a scrap from one of your old tunics.’
Sigrid tried everything she could think of to waken her husband. When the cold water didn’t work, she tried sitting him up and putting his feet on the ground. She even resorted to pricking him with a needle. But Bolverk snored on and his eyes never opened.
Oddo didn’t say a word. He kept out of the way and tried to think of something helpful to do. The first thing was to serve breakfast. He was starving! But when Oddo crossed to the fireplace he saw the porridge was burnt to a brown crust and the flat bread was a black lump on top of the griddle. Oddo tipped the burnt bread into the fire and cooked another piece. Leaving some on the table for his mother, he went outdoors to see what chores he could do.
He milked the cows and carried the heavy buckets into the dairy. He managed to tip them into the underground vats without spilling too much milk. After that, he skimmed the cream off yesterday’s milk and stirred it in the churn till his arms ached. To his immense pride, a little dollop of yellow butter formed at the bottom of the churn. He lifted it carefully with a wooden paddle. But when he started to carry it across the room, it slid from the paddle, landing on the earth floor with a sad ‘plop’.
Disappointed, Oddo went back inside. Sigrid was sitting on a stool with her head in her hands, her breakfast bread untouched on the table. Hairydog lay at the foot of the bed, whimpering. Bolverk was still asleep. Oddo picked up the bread and held it out to his mother.
‘You’ve got to eat something!’ he said.
‘And what about your father? How’s he going to eat? If he doesn’t wake up he’ll die of starvation. And what will become of us?’ Sigrid wailed. ‘Who will shear the sheep? Who’ll climb the cliffs to find the seabird eggs? Who’ll take all our goods to the market?’
‘I could do it,’ suggested Oddo timidly.
‘Oh, Oddo.’ Sigrid shook her head and hid her face in her hands.
Gently, Oddo placed the piece of bread in her lap. Hairydog lifted her head and gave a pitiful howl.
‘Get that wretched dog out of here,’ said Sigrid.‘She’s driving me crazy with her crying.’
A few moments later Oddo and Hairydog were running through the wood towards Thora’s house.
12
‘We must be able to fix it’
As Oddo neared the edge of the wood he saw Thora coming down the hill. She waved and began to hurry towards him.
‘Oddo, if that rune was back-to-front . . .’
‘Thora, something’s gone wrong . . .’
‘Tell me what’s happened,’ Thora gasped.
Oddo told her about Bolverk. ‘Do you think it’s because of my rune?’ he asked.
‘It must be,’ said Thora. ‘I found out that a rune does bad magic if it’s carved back-to-front. And I’m sure that one was back-to-front.’
‘Will he get better if I take the runestone out of his bed?’ asked Oddo.
‘I don’t know,’ said Thora. ‘I don’t think you can just do that. When you’ve cast a spell, you have to lift it the right way. Otherwise something even worse can happen.’ She chewed her lower lip and frowned. ‘You’d better leave the stone where it is while I try to find out what to do.’
‘Hurry!’ said Oddo.
‘It won’t be easy,’ Thora warned him. ‘I can’t tell anyone the truth. If my family found out I’d been showing you how to do runes . . . I’d get into awful trouble. We’re not allowed to give away magic secrets.’
‘I just wanted to do some good magic,’ mumbled Oddo miserably.
‘Don’t fret. We must be able to fix it,’ said Thora. ‘Meet me here again tomorrow morning. I’ll try to find out by then.’
Back at the house, Sigrid was forcing some broth between Bolverk’s lips.
‘I’ve made some soup if you want some,’ she said in a dull voice, nodding towards a pot on the fire. Oddo filled a bowl and sat down at the table. He began to sip it hungrily.
‘When you’ve eaten,’ said Sigrid, ‘you’d better go to the house-over-the-hill and see if Runolf the Rune-maker will come and look at your father.’
‘No!’ howled Oddo. His bowl crashed onto the table and the soup slopped over the edges. ‘I mean, we can’t do that. Father hates magic.’
‘What else can we do?’ asked Sigrid.
Everybody else went to the house-over-the-hill to buy herbs, potions or spells when they were injured or sick. But Bolverk had never been sick in his life, and if he injured himself around the farm he just got Sigrid to nurse him.
Oddo couldn’t let Runolf come here and find the runestone in the bed. He’d guess that Oddo had made it and he’d find out about Thora . . . But what could Oddo do? Thora had warned him not to take the runestone away.
‘Let’s wait a bit longer,’ pleaded Oddo. ‘Father doesn’t look as if he’s sick or in pain. He’s just sleeping. He’ll be really angry if he wakes up and finds Runolf here.’
‘I suppose so,’ said Sigrid, but she didn’t sound very sure. ‘Oh, if only he would wake up!’
Oddo finished his soup and stood up.
‘I’m going to shear some sheep,’ he said, trying to sound grown-up and confident.
‘Why bother?’ asked Sigrid. ‘Just leave them and they’ll shed the wool themselves before the end of summer.’
‘But Father never does that!’ cried Oddo.‘Wool that’s fallen to the ground in bits and pieces isn’t any good for taking to market.’
Sigrid shrugged.
‘So what? We can’t get it to market this year anyway.’
‘But Father will get better before it’s time to go to market!’ Oddo exclaimed in horror. Surely the spell couldn’t last that long – could it?
The sheep were still in their barn, waiting to be shorn. They baaed loudly as Oddo approached and pressed against the low door.
‘Now, one of you come in the shearing shed with me,’ ordered Oddo.
He opened the door a cra
ck and a large sheep with a proud expression pushed her way through. She seemed to know what was expected of her and led the way into the shed.
Oddo had watched his father do the shearing many times. The first thing he had to do was lift the sheep onto the shearing bench, lay her on her back and tie her legs together. Oddo wrapped his arms around the sheep and tried to lift. As he’d expected, she was much too heavy. He sighed and fell back on his haunches.
Oddo and the sheep eyed each other.
‘I’ll just have to do this on the ground,’ he told her.
He picked up the big iron shears. They felt heavy and awkward in his hands.
‘It’s all right, girl,’ said Oddo.‘I just want to trim your wool. If you keep still, I won’t hurt you’
The sheep seemed to understand. She stood very still as he knelt down. He slipped his hand under her belly where she’d already shed her wool, and pushed back the long wavy locks that hung from her back. Cautiously, he squeezed the shears. To his relief, the wool cut away quickly and easily.
When he’d finished, the sheep had odd tufts of wool sticking out here and there, but at least there was a fleece lying on the ground.
‘The next one will be better,’ Oddo promised himself.
The sheep seemed to know that he’d finished. He had an odd feeling that she nodded to him before she turned around and headed outside. Oddo went back to the barn and stood gazing over the door. There were an awful lot of sheep to shear! If he had to do them all by himself it would take a very long time!
That night Oddo went to bed remembering the evening before when he’d been so proud and excited about his runestone. Now he wished he’d never made it.
As soon as he woke next morning he looked hopefully towards his parents’ bed. Bolverk still lay there with his eyes shut. Oddo felt a heavy weight of guilt and unhappiness. He rushed off to his meeting with Thora and waited impatiently at the edge of the wood. At last he saw her walking towards him.
‘Well?’ he called.
‘I’ve found out how to lift the spell,’ she answered him.‘But . . . the effects won’t wear off for a few weeks!’
Oddo stared at her.
‘You mean, even if we undo the spell he’ll still be lying there for weeks!?’
Thora nodded glumly.
‘I’m afraid so.’
‘It’s your fault!’ Oddo burst out. ‘You shouldn’t have made me do it!’
‘I like that!’ said Thora. ‘I didn’t make you do anything. You made me spy on my brothers and tell you their secrets!’
They glared at each other.
‘Well, how do I lift the spell?’ asked Oddo at last.
‘I don’t know that I’ll tell you now,’ said Thora.
‘Please,’ said Oddo. ‘I’m sorry. You’re right. It is my fault. And,’ he added despairingly, ‘I’ve got to fix it!’
‘All right,’ said Thora. ‘You take the runestone out of the bed, scrape off the rune and burn the stone in the heart of a fire. But then, to help your father get better you should really put in a healing rune.’
‘Oh no,’ said Oddo firmly.‘I’m not making any more runes. No way!’
‘Well, we’ll worry about that later,’ said Thora. ‘For the moment you can get rid of the one that’s there.’
‘Do I need to say a spell as well?’ asked Oddo.
‘I don’t know. It wouldn’t hurt,’ said Thora.
Oddo looked at her doubtingly.
‘Are you sure about the rest of it?’ he asked. ‘I mean, how did you find out? I thought girls weren’t allowed to know that stuff.’
‘I bribed Harald,’ said Thora. ‘He’s learning about runes. I promised to make him anything he wanted for supper if he found out and told me. He’ll do anything for food. He’s as greedy as a baby eagle.’
When Oddo got home, he saw that Sigrid was looking a bit brighter.
‘I’ve had an idea,’ she said. ‘Runolf the Rune-maker doesn’t need to come here. We can go to his house and ask him to make a healing rune for your father!’
Oddo was delighted. They could put the healing rune in Bolverk’s bed after he’d got rid of the bad spell.
While his mother mushed up some food for Bolverk, Oddo crossed to the big bed and knelt down at his father’s side. With his eyes on Sigrid, he slipped a hand under the mattress. He wasn’t sure where he’d placed the stone, so he started under Bolverk’s shoulders and began to work his way towards the foot of the bed. He touched the hard lump of the stone just as Sigrid turned. He whisked his hand away from the mattress, the runestone hidden in his fist.
‘I’m going back to the shearing!’ called Oddo, and raced out of the room.
But Oddo ran straight past the sheep waiting in the barn. He hurried into the wood and picked up the first stone he saw. Crouching down, he began to rub it frantically against his runestone. The rune he’d carved was not very deep, and in a few minutes there was no trace of it left.
Oddo puffed out his cheeks and blew a sigh of relief.
Tonight, thought Oddo, I’ll light a little camp fire in the wood for burning the stone.
He didn’t have a pouch like Thora’s, so he slipped the stone inside his shoe. He couldn’t risk losing it. It rubbed uncomfortably against his foot all afternoon as he went on with his work.
In the evening after dinner, Oddo picked up an oil lamp.
‘I’m going out to check the animals,’ he said.
In the wood, Oddo set the lamp carefully on the ground and collected a few twigs in a pile. He laid the stone in the middle of the pile, then tilted the flame of the lamp towards the twigs. They flared up in a bright crackle of flame.
Oddo had been thinking up a spell all afternoon. Now he sat back on his heels and began to chant quietly,
‘Rune magic, go away,
You must do as I say!’
He waited and watched till the fire burnt itself out. Then he stood up stiffly and went back to the house.
13
A helping hand
Thora was in the wood collecting nettletops for supper. She had to pick carefully to avoid the long spines with their poisonous stings. She was just trying to decide if she had enough, when she saw a woman coming through the trees. The woman was neatly dressed in a long blue kirtle. The large brooches holding up her yellow apron-dress were polished and gleaming, and she had a silky white coif around her head.
The woman took no notice of Thora. She was walking fast with her eyes fixed on Thora’s house and an anxious expression on her face. Suddenly, Thora recognised her. She was Oddo’s mother! Thora decided she’d picked enough nettles. She grabbed her basket and hurried up the hill after Sigrid.
When Thora entered the house, Sigrid was seated at the table with Runolf. Thora hovered in the doorway, eager to hear what they were talking about.
‘Healing runes I can make aplenty,’ Runolf was saying.‘But it’s my opinion Bolverk is bewitched. You’d be better advised to have me search your house and discover what manner of spell’s been cast upon him. However, I will do as you bid . . .’
Thora held her breath.
‘Let’s just try the healing runes first,’ Sigrid answered. ‘How soon could you have them ready?’
At that moment Granny’s voice struck across the room.
‘Thora! What are you doing? Lost your legs? Bring yourself over here and show me what you’ve got in that basket.’
Reluctantly, Thora made her way to Granny and held out her finds.
‘I’ve picked some nettletops for supper,’ she said.
‘Pig’s piddle!’ cried Granny. ‘Don’t waste those on food! They’ll make a lovely potion for burns and rashes. It’s about time you learnt how to seethe some healing spells. You can make this one yourself.’
Thora sighed. All that trouble to pick the leaves and now they were going to be wasted on a silly spell that wouldn’t work. Grumpily she tipped the nettletops into a cauldron.
‘Now, not too much water,’ warned Granny
. ‘And don’t forget to say the incantation!’
‘That’ll be a lot of use!’ thought Thora.
But under Granny’s stern gaze she began to mutter.
‘Sting it can, sting it may
But nettles take the sting away!’
Out of the corner of her eye she saw Sigrid get up and leave. Runolf selected two stones from his pile and started working on the runes. Thora was anxious to be ready by his side when he finished the stones and needed a messenger to deliver them. She stirred impatiently, peering into the pot, and willing the water to come to the boil.
Runolf set one stone aside and picked up another.
‘Come on!’ Thora growled at the cauldron. Steam started rising at last.
Runolf selected some berries, squeezed them, and began rubbing the red juice into the runes. Thora knew the stones were finished. She heaved the cauldron off the flames and dumped it on the floor near the firepit where it would still simmer gently.
She rushed to Runolf’s side. He looked up in surprise.
‘Indeed, and have you not some seething to attend to?’ he asked.
‘Uhh . . . It’s nearly ready. I can leave it now,’ said Thora, glancing around at Granny. But Granny was busy admiring something Astrid had made.
‘If such be the case,’ said Runolf, pointing at the red-stained runestones lying on the table,‘I will entrust you to deliver these to Bolverk the Bellower.’
‘I thought Bolverk didn’t believe in magic,’ said Thora, trying to sound innocent.
‘Mayhap he doesn’t,’ said Runolf, ‘but he’s ill abed and his wife is determined on this cure. So make haste, and be sure to collect payment. The promised fee is two pats of butter.’
‘Oh good,’ said Thora. ‘The last lot of butter’s gone rancid.’
Thora ran all the way through the wood, only slowing down to catch her breath when Bolverk’s farm came into sight.
There was no one around. Thora called a greeting and made her way down the passageway. She pushed aside the door hangings, and saw Sigrid bending over a sleeping figure in a big carved bed. Sigrid glanced up.
‘Come in, come in!’ she cried in welcome.‘Sit down and make yourself comfortable.’
