Avalon

by Anya Seton

  Christianity was not the only topic of conversation at Erik's feast. There was concern about the mysterious sickness in the Western Settlement, for two wives who had come to Brattalid began to ail. They had headaches and chills. They dragged listlessly around, and neither would sit on the Cross Bench. They did not want to eat. They wanted to get home as soon as their men would let them.

  The men were in no hurry. For Leif had offered them a project far more interesting than illness or Christianity. He wanted to buy Bjame Herjolfson's ship, hire some of the crew who had been with Bjarne on that voyage to the West when he had not landed, and go to see what was really there.

  Bjarne, at first protesting that he must set off for Iceland as usual, gave in rapidly when he found what Leif was willing to pay for the ship. Leif was rich, in Norway the King had given him sumptuous gifts, and Bjame decided that Leif's offer was worthwhile. So there was to be an expedition starting in a couple of weeks. Leif had no trouble finding an eager crew, and to that lad's intense excitement he invited Orm to join them.

  "So ..." said Sigurd ruefully to Merewyn as they were riding home. "Our son is wild to go with Leif. I think I must let him. But the boy has forgotten, or doesn't care, that he was to ship with me on the Bylgja.^^

  "Orm is very young and adventurous," said iMerewyn without expression. She Uked neither plan. She was tired. During these days she and Astrid had guarded Thora as best they could. Even so there had been one bad moment when Thora slipped out of bed in response to a low throaty call. Merewyn awoke instantly and followed her daughter into the sunny evening. She had no trouble finding her, for she heard little laughs and shrieks from behind the cow byre. Thora was naked, except for her woolen night shift, and Freydis, huge and malevolent, had pulled up the shift, and was doing something between the girl's legs, while she pricked her on the breasts with a little knife.

  "You devil!" cried Merewyn. "Leave my child alone!" She ran for Freydis, and jumped at her so hard that the woman fell down. Merewyn wrenched the knife from her hand, and held it trembling while she mastered the desire to cut down on that broad square face, to slash the yellow eyes.

  "Mama —" said Thora, her mouth hanging open. "Mama, we was playing a good game." Merewyn took her by the arm and propelled her back to bed.

  Merewyn had not told Sigurd of this episode. She would when they got home. She would have to make him realize, or admit, that Thora was a baby in a woman's body, and that Freydis was dangerous. But he was already unhappy over Orm's defection, and besides he did not look well. His face was drawn, his movements much slower than usual, as he guided the old horse. Thora rode with Merewyn on the mare which formnately had foaled three times in Greenland. They had prospered in a way, as Thorbjorg had foretold. Their livestock multiplied, and Sigurd bartered walrus tusks, narwhal horns, and seal hides for luxuries which came in on the Norwegian trader or Icelandic fishing boats.

  "Wife," said Sigurd when they reached Ketilvik, "I think I'll lie down. I've a headache, or at least a pain in my head such as I never had since a battle in Dublin years ago with Ketil."

  "Go to bed then — elsknan min," she said quietly. "I'll bring you ale, and a cold cloth for your head."

  She was not alarmed then, but she became so as the days went by and Sigurd showed no wish to get out of bed. He had chills at times, sometimes his body felt very hot. She was sponging him once when she noticed that his belly was covered with rosy spots, and wondered what they could be.

  Brigid, when told to, shared the nursing. There was always soiled moss or straw to dispose of for the sick man's bowels ran like water. Merewyn occasionally got some sleep on the Cross Bench, since Sigurd was so restless he preferred to have their bed alone.

  In a week, Orm came home, exuberant with plans for Leif's voyage of discovery to the west. Orm was full of news. Leif had indeed bought Bjame's ship and hired seven of his crew. They had all been tinkering with the ship, and outfitting her. Orm, the youngest member of the crew, had been much flattered that Leif consulted him at times, saying that though he knew the boy had made only fishing trips himself, yet the Jblood of great sailors was in him.

  Orm had come home to say farewell, and pick up his gear. They would all set out next Thursday, which was Thor's day and lucky.

  "Were there many baptisms after we left?" asked Merewyn faintly.

  "Oh, quite a few, I think," said Orm, bored with anything which had nothing to do with the expedition. "Leif scarcely paid attention, we are so busy with plans. The priest did all that."

  "I wish you would, Orm —" said Merewyn, stirring a seal-meat stew, and looking at her son.

  "Would what? Oh, you mean this Christian stuff? Father doesn't Hke it. He said so."

  Merewyn bowed her head. "Orm, your father is very ill. I'm worried. He may have caught the sickness they have in the Western Settlement. And he's distressed that you are going with Leif instead of on the Bylgja^

  "Oh," said Orm, his neck flushing. "I didn't think. But to go with Lei^ —" He trailed off.

  "Yes, I know," said Merewyn. This was her restless, handsome son, who must exactly resemble his father as Sigurd was years ago, when Sigurd first went a-viking. But on the other hand the expedition with Leif was different. It was an adventure into the unknown, and perhaps there would be no rape and murder involved. Perhaps no trading either. It was not like a Viking voyage. And Leif was a Christian — she reminded herself of that. He had been baptized. So he would take care of her son, and get him baptized perhaps.

  When Orm went to visit his father in the bed-closet, even his youthful unawareness was shattered. Sigurd's face was gray and pinched, he continually muttered something one could not understand. He plucked at the eiderdown and had made a hole in it.

  "Father —" said Orm. As Sigurd went on babbling, he repeated, "Father!"

  Sigurd came slowly back into the world. His heavy eyehds hfted and focused on Orm. "My son —" he said. "I'm dying."

  ''''Nor cried Orm with a shiver. "You're strong. You've always been Sigurd the Strong!"

  "No more —" Sigurd whispered, then gathered himself to say, "When I am gone, you must take care of your mother and your little sister. You will take them on the Bylgja away from here. The gods don't like Greenland. They do not wish us to be here. You will be head of the family now."

  "Father . . ." said Orm helplessly, frightened by the look of the man on the bed. "You will not die, and I want to go with Leif," but he spoke so low that Sigurd did not hear him.

  "I command this," said Sigurd. "Give me your hand."

  Orm clasped his father's hand.

  "Greenland was never the place for us," said Sigurd after a moment. "Nor will Norsemen endure here very long. There are evil spirits coming down from the ice cap. During these last days I've seen them. The white wolf with yellow eyes, she stalks my Thora. She hates my wife. I did not know before. Take your mother and sister away. Swear it! You must not go with Leif. Swear it!"

  Orm swallowed three times, anxious to get rid of the burning hand which clung to his. "I swear—" he said in a feeble voice.

  "Louder!" said Sigurd, raising on his elbow. "Swear by Thor and Odin, that when I am dead, you will take our womenfolk away."

  "I swear by Thor and Odin," said Orm miserably after a moment.

  "Swear by this new god too, that Jesus Christ —" said Sigurd. "Your mother believes in Him. And one can never.be quite sure."

  "By Jesus Christ," said Orm, his lips trembUng, "and since Leif also beheves in Him, perhaps He is a stronger god."

  "Make Thor's hammer sign to seal the oath," said Sigurd, gasping and putting his hand on his belly. "I've noticed that it is very like the sign the Christians make. Thor and Christ must understand each other."

  Frightened by the wild look in his father's eyes, Orm made with his thumb the hammer sign of Thor — down, up — and across.

  Sigurd slumped back on the bed. "There is a strange feel in my belly," he said in a high plaintive voice. "Get your mother."

&nbs
p; Sigurd died on the following day.

  Even though Astrid came to Merewyn, the new-made widow was so numb that she could neither weep nor talk. Nor would she go near the bed-closet she had once shared with Sigurd. She lay on a bench in the Hall, gazing into the fire, unable to eat.

  At last prodded by Astrid, who was most lovingly worried, Merewyn appeared at Sigurd's burial behind the homestead, and even counted out the assets which would make for Orm's "Ardval" or inheritance feast. A pig to be slaughtered, two lambs, maybe three — what did it matter — and there was silver enough to buy mead from the Norwegian trader which had put in to Brattalid.

  Orm sailed in their small boat to fetch the mead, and was very serious on his return home.

  He found Merewyn, Thora, and Astrid sitting in the Hall. It was snowing outside, not the great winter blizzards, but a drizzhng snow which hissed on the roof.

  Orm looked at his mother, at Astrid and at Thora who was happily playing with a mound of pebbles — arranging them and scattering them over the hearth.

  "Leif sailed yesterday to find those lands to the west," said Orm, climbing to the High Seat — which was now his — and waiting for Brigid to bring him ale.

  Merewyn looked up, she drew in her breath. "Leif sailed?"

  "Indeed, and I'm glad I happened to be there. The nearest I'll come to going."

  "But you were going with Leif," said Merewyn.

  "I was once, I'm not. How could I leave here before my Ardval?"

  "Nay," said Astrid quickly. "How could you! You're the family chief now."

  "And," said Orm solemnly, "I swore to my father before he died that I would take my mother and sister off Greenland on the Bylgja — which is mine now." He tossed his fair locks,

  looking proud. "Mother, where would you hke to go? If we sell our thralls, we'll have plenty of silver to hire a good crew. Erik the Red has a sen-ant who would even pay something for Brigid as a wife."

  "May heaven help him, whoever he is," said Merewyn with the first smile they had seen. "But since women are so scarce here . . . and everything else is scarce —"

  "You want to go back to Iceland?" asked Astrid, glad that her friend was talking again.

  "No," said Merewyn. "England. I want trees, and the soft summer air. I'm homesick." She said this in a faintly startled voice and spoke no more. The sleet hissed on the roof.

  Astrid spoke to Orm. "At Brattalid, what was Leif's departure like?"

  "Nothing special," answered Orm. "We all waved farewell

  — oh yes, Leif had properly asked his father to go with him, but Erik has been in a bad mood ever since that priest came and Thiodild is building a church. He did not want to sail with Leif. and managed to fall off his horse and hurt himself. Which he said was a sign that he should not leave Greenland. So he didn't go.

  "Ah, yes," said Astrid, shaking her head. "Pooi^old Erik tries to rule his 'kingdom' here, but he cannot rule his wife or sons anymore. Nor," she added on a sigh, "can he rule death." She glanced at Merewyn.

  "There've been several more deaths," said Orm cheerfully, "in the Western Settlement, and even at Brattahd — from the sickness."

  "Death —" said Merewyn suddenly. "Everywhere is death

  — it took my Sigurd."

  "We can sail in a week," Orm said. He missed his father but he no longer sorrowed for being unable to go with Leif. The owTiership of the Bylgja excited him. And the voyage to England did too, now his mother had requested it. He had no doubts of his abiHt>' to skipper the ship, he had explored ever)'

  inch of her from his childhood on, and had learned seamanship since he could toddle from both Ketil and Sigurd.

  "The sooner the better," said Merewyn, glancing at Thora who had tired of her pebble game, and was standing by the window, her hand cupped around her ear, a delighted look on her face as though she could hear something they could not.

  "It will be sad without you, Merevyn," said Astrid with another sigh. "But I know that for you it is better to leave here. And I have my husband and children." She got up and kissed Merewyn on the cheek. "I'll help you get ready," she added, "and you must not spend too much on Orm's Ardval — you will need many supplies on board the Bylgja to get to England. That is a long way, I think."

  "It is!" cried Orm, jubilantly. "Farther away than where Leif's trying to go. I'm sure of that."

  Merewyn looked at her young son. What it is to be eighteen, and so confident! Sigurd was once like that.

  At the memory of Sigurd there came a kind of bleeding and weeping inside. She got up violendy and went to Thora who was trying to make a bunch of moss stick on the head of a little wooden puppet Astrid had brought her.

  "That's not the way, dear," she said. "I'll lend you one of my pins, and then the hair will stay on."

  Thora relinquished the puppet, and looked up at her mother. "Thora wants Freydis," she said plaintively. "She'll come?"

  Merewyn flinched and turned to Astrid. "My friend," she said, "will you help me start packing our chests, now.'"'

  It was the middle of September when the Bylgja neared England. She had been about two months at sea and except for occasional adverse winds, one storm, and the discovery of a small mysterious leak in the bow, the voyage was uneventful. The leak was just behind the carved image of Thor, long ago placed there by Ketil. They caulked the leak with a wad of tarred canvas, and could not understand why each morning the canvas

  had fallen out and seawater was trickling in. Mereuyn first guessed the cause of this, and stayed awake watching. Yes, it was Thora, who dug out the caulking, and crooned happily as she dabbled her fingers in the water.

  "No, Thora!" cried Merewyn, slapping the girl's hand. "Don't do that! Orm would be angry!"

  "Orm not my father—"said Thora. "lAHiere's my father?" She began to cry. Merewyn, with a heavy heart and no answer, soothed the child by nursery rhymes and lullabies. After that she put Thora in a different place in the prow, and stayed alert for any movement.

  During the voyage, Orm had been greatly helped in navigation by an old English-born seaman called John. John had often traveled as crew from various ports in England to Iceland. He had gone on to Greenland because his half-Icelandic son wished to better himself. But the son had recently died of the sickness in the Western Settlement. John wished to come home. He was stooped and little, his hair was gray, his mouth toothless, his cheeks netted with purple veins. Orm had been reluctant to take him on but now he was glad. Old John could read the stars, he could smell a coming storm, and like a swallow or a sea gull, he always knew which way to steer for where he,wanted.

  One day when they were becalmed and had broken out the oarsmen, John, normally taciturn, said to Merewyn, "W'^e're driftin' south around the tip o' Ireland. Ye didn't want to land at Padstow, did ye?"

  'Wc.'" Merewyn gave a shudder.

  "Wasn't sure —" said John, chomping with sharp old gums on a bit of pork crackle. "Folk get a hankering to get back where they was bom. I do m'self, though 'twas only a hovel half the size o' this ship."

  "You were born in our west country, weren't you?" asked Merewyn, keeping an eye on Thora who distracted the oarsmen by tripping back and forth betvi^een them and making little sounds. Thora was certainly very pretty; her red hair sprang in

  curls around her small innocent face; her breasts and hips were womanly; some of the crew gave her lecherous looks, but there was no real danger — no privacy except under the women's tent in the prow; besides, Orm kept as stern an eye on his men as ever Ketil or Sigurd did.

  "I was born nearabouts Bristol, ma'am," John said. "Bristol's a fair port 'n' we better head fur it. Up the river Severn. Once there I can start ye all on your way."

  "Start us on our way?" Merewyn repeated. Where to? She had thought only of reaching England. For all the weeks she had scarcely thought of anything but the needs of life at sea, of caring for Thora, and of admiring Orm when he left the steering oar and came forward to ask how she did.

  Suddenly, and for the first
time in months, she thought of Rumon. When she found Rumon, he would tell her what to do. She felt comfort when she thought of Rumon.

  "Glastonbury . . . ?" she said to John. "It's in the west country, would it be near this Bristol you say we shoiild land in?"

  Old John pulled another piece of crackle from the grilled pig.

  "Glaston's near enough to Bristol," he agreed. "Wouldn't take much more'n a day to get there over the Mendip Hills."

  iMerewyn laughed, and the old man looked at her inquiringly.

  "I remember," she said, "when the Mendips seemed so — so enormous to me, but since then I've known great mountains in Iceland and Greenland. Hills now are enough."

  "Fur me too," said John. " 'Tis because we're gettin' on, though ye're so much younger, ma'am. Ah —" His hunched body stiffened, and he Hcked his forefinger to hold it in the air. "Winds blowing up from the west, we'll make do wi' that. It'll help us." He went aft to speak to Orm.

  Ten days later they had managed to get up the Severn, and enter the Avon. "Here's Bristol," announced old John with satisfaction. "The best port in the west country, wouldn't wonder was it better than London."

  Everyone looked at the collection of thatched huts, the few stone buildings, and the spire of a church. There were many wooden docks and the Avon was alive with little coracles.

  As they came into the town, a woman on shore gave a piercing wail, and began to run. Others gathered on the bank and began to point at the Bylgja. They too ran away. In a few minutes the church bell began ringing frantically.

  Alerewyn went aft to Orm. "They think we're a Viking raider," she said. "Lower the sail, and take off those dragons on the prow and stem."

  Orm looked rebellious. He liked the Bylgp with all her panoply.

  "You have to dock," said Alerewyn quietly. "We're leaking and we've run out of drink, even water. Do you want them to kill us?"