“Well?” the Bear rears before me.
Suddenly, I know what to do. I don’t have to fight this bear. All I have to do is bring him to Nana. She’ll do the skinning and slicing.
I stand defiant before Bjalki.
“I claim the life debt you owe me. Release Finn and tomorrow you must come to speak with Ananaksaq.”
Bjalki’s face is easy to read. The red and purple blotches tell me he doesn’t like this at all. But, like me, he has no choice. It’s a matter of honour.
“I’ll be there,” he growls. “When I’m ready.”
“Tomorrow,” I insist. Some things can’t wait. “And bring our men with you.”
Baring his teeth, Bjalki snarls. “After this, my debt is paid and you would be wise to stay away from me. Now go. Get out of my sight.”
There’s one more thing I must do. I reach into my pocket and hold out my cub’s tooth necklace.
Bjalki closes his giant fist over it.
It’s a special gift. Asmund told me how the Northmen prize the polar bear. But it’s even more than that. It’s about completing the circle. The tooth from my first bear rests in the paw of my last. I’m almost free of Nana’s prophecy.
The guards prod us towards the door but I don’t need any encouragement. I’m moving so fast even Finn has to hurry to keep up.
At the door he stops and turns. “Tomorrow morning, early,” he says to his uncle. “Don’t keep Nana waiting.”
I can’t believe my ears. It’s the longest sentence Finn has ever said and it’s sure to make Bjalki angry again. I shove Finn out the door before he says anything else. When I look back, Bjalki is placing the tooth around his neck.
I wish I had Nana’s ear so I could hear what he is thinking.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
NANA’S BEAR
The arctic wind chases Finn and me across the ice. It’s late at night, and somewhere bears are stirring to sniff the air. But that’s not what hurries me on. I’m afraid I’ve made a terrible mistake. Not all prophecies come true. Sometimes the hero crashes and freezes. Nana said I would save our people, yet instead I’ve invited a killer into our homes.
At last, I spy the dark outline of our tents. The camp is asleep, except for the snowy owl that hoots our arrival and the two shadows moving out to meet us.
“We’re glad you’re back. You both look exhausted.” Tuaq grabs my arm and holds it tight, as if he never wants to let go again. “Iluak looks like he’s seen a ghost.”
I’ve seen much worse than ghosts. Fear is not white after all. It’s red like the Northman’s angry eyes.
“You need to sleep now. Tomorrow is another long day. Then we will feast and celebrate your safe return.” Nana’s voice is warm and comforting but I’m not safe yet. I haven’t told her what I’ve done.
“Bjalki’s coming here,” I blurt out.
“He can help us celebrate,” she says, unruffled.
“I don’t think he’s in the mood for a party.”
Beside me, Finn nods.
Nana’s eyes glow bright like the owl hunting its prey. “You let me worry about that, boys. You did well to bring the Bear here, Iluak. I am making a fur coat.” She chortles. “I do not like to sew, but watch me stitch our two peoples together whether the bad-tempered Bear likes it or not.”
If anyone can do it, Ananaksaq can. But she hasn’t seen Bjalki’s face, mottled purple with rage. She hasn’t seen his great fists clenched tight in fury. Shivering, I remember.
“Are you cold?” Tuaq asks me.
I shake my head.
“Warm from running,” Finn explains.
Little glimmers of light appear inside nearby tents. My people spare their valuable seal oil to rise and see that Finn and I have returned safely. They think Nana’s prophecy has been fulfilled.
But I haven’t saved them. Bjalki will arrive angry and resentful. I’ve seen cornered bears before. They hiss and snarl. They swipe, razor sharp, at anything that moves.
Nana shuffles beside me. She looks old and frail, not like a bear tamer at all. Coughing, she spits into the snow.
“Iluak.” Miki’s whoop careens across the ice to barrel into me, only moments before she does. Her small arms hug me tight.
“I thought you weren’t worried,” I tease.
She unwraps her arms to stand, hands on hips. “Of course I wasn’t. Mama was worried, not Papa and me.”
But our people still are. I see the fear growing in their faces as, one by one, they realise Raynor and Uncle are not with us.
Moving aside, the crowd separates to let my parents through. Mama is crying. Partly because she is glad to see me back. Partly because she wants to run and hold her little boy, but she can’t. I am a man now.
“Did you see Raynor or Uncle?” Papa asks.
“No. We saw the heads on sticks, lining the entrance to the Bear’s home. But there were none we recognised. They were not Icelander skulls.”
Behind me someone begins to cry.
Wearing her priestess cloak of raven feathers, Nana raises her arms like wings. “Tomorrow the Bear comes to me.”
“Here?” shrieks a frightened woman.
“Yes. Iluak has brought him to me.”
Now my people’s eyes are like daggers. I am not their hero any more. Mothers clutch their children close and some will not even look at me.
Nana screeches like the arctic owl, shaking her rattle of lemming bones. “Tomorrow the prophecy will come to pass and it will be good. Return to your sleeping bags. It is time to dream.”
Our people do as Nana tells them. But they are still afraid of what is to come and their dreams will make them toss and moan. I hear their murmurings. “What happened to Uncle and Raynor? What will happen to us?”
Papa takes my shoulder and, unable to stand a moment longer, I collapse into his arms.
“You need to rest,” Mama says. “Finn too.”
“First I must tell Nana all I have learned.”
“Hush.” Mama puts her fingers to her lips. “Ananaksaq already knows everything she needs.”
Pulling her hood close around her ear, Nana walks out onto the ice. Whatever else she needs to know, the ancestors will tell her tonight.
The morning is filled with muttering and the air even icier with mistrust. The discontent grows and swells like a whale bladder filling with water. My people are not happy with what I’ve done. “Bear caller,” they used to whisper. Well, they were right. I’ve called the Bear and he’s coming today.
“That Iluak. Bad luck follows him around,” they mumble. “It’s his fault if Bjalki slaughters us all.”
“Did you hear what happened to Raynor and Uncle?” says another. “Bjalki ate them. There wasn’t even enough left to hang on a stick. Iluak is feeding us to the Northmen.”
But Tuaq waves my half deer antler in their faces. “Iluak has saved us from the Northmen anger. It is time for two people to melt into one.” He walks among the tents speaking for me. “You must trust Nana and watch her work a great magic.”
They listen to our shaman but still they glower and grumble.
“Why did Iluak have to bring the Northmen here?”
“That’s what happens when you send a boy to do a man’s job.”
“Maybe Nana is getting too old,” says another.
Nana glares at him and he shuts his mouth fast.
“Was it right to tell the Northmen to come?” I ask her.
“They were always coming. But now they are coming at our bidding and that makes a big difference. We are ready.”
I hope so. If not, we’ll all join our ancestors today.
“I see the Northmen,” Miki yells. Miki’s eyes reach furthest across the ice, so Papa always chooses her as lookout.
Nervously, the men group behind us.
“What else can you see?” Nana asks. “Look harder. How many has he brought to us?”
Miki peers into the distance. “There are ten. Uncle is with them,” she shouts excitedly.
“And Raynor too.”
My people yell and stomp. Loud and raucous, our jubilation bounces off the ice to land at Bjalki’s feet. The Northmen hesitate, puzzled by the reception.
“I think they are more used to people cowering rather than cheering,” Nana observes, eyes twinkling.
I bet she planned it like that.
Bjalki might be big and strong but Nana is wily and cunning. Even a bear will starve if he can’t catch a fox.
They’re approaching quickly now. Perhaps they thought we were laughing at them. Mouths open, we stare together as the Northmen draw closer. Bjalki’s people plough across the snow until only a tent pole length is between us.
“I’m here, woman,” Bjalki bellows. “I kept my word. What do you want?”
Before even Papa can answer, Finn steps forward.
“Do not yell at Nana,” he orders.
We’re all stunned to hear Finn talk like that. Bjalki too. Then he grins and rumples his nephew’s hair.
“You’ve got your father’s fire in your eyes, lad. I like that.”
But when Nana stands beside Finn, Bjalki’s glare returns.
“What do you want?” he demands again. “I do not have time to waste. I have lands to raid and people to conquer.” His eyes narrow and glitter. “And now that I am here, perhaps I will start in this place.”
“Tell your men to put down their weapons,” Nana commands. “Unless you are afraid to so do.”
“I am not afraid of the skraeling,” the Bear roars. “I am Bjalki, overlord of the Icelands, the terror of the North.”
Behind me, children scatter for the safety of their tents. I want to run with them. But I stand next to Finn, so close to Bjalki I can feel his scalding breath on my cheeks.
Bjalki signals, and lances, bows and javelins drop onto the snow. He gestures again and Raynor and Uncle are shoved towards Papa.
“Here. Have these two back. They are no use to me. Their scrawny heads would not strike fear into a snow goose.”
“I have seen a goose attack a bear to protect her chicks,” Nana says.
Bjalki opens his mouth to bellow again but Nana’s words have found their mark.
“I thank you for rescuing my daughter.” His words are grudging and reluctant yet have to be said. Even a bear loves his cubs, more than anything else.
Nana stares up into the Northman’s face.
Fidgeting, Bjalki grimaces, uncomfortable in her gaze. “I gave you my thanks. What more are you looking for, old one?”
“Heart,” Nana says.
Bjalki frowns. “So what have you found?”
“Thorvald’s brother. Someone I would trust with our children.” Nana gestures and Aunty places baby Massak in Bjalki’s arms. The great Bear looks alarmed. But when Massak reaches out and tugs his beard, he smiles for the first time.
The ice is broken and, at least for now, the Bear is quiet.
“We will celebrate this moment by drinking tea,” Nana decides. “You will sit here with me, and your men will sit over there.”
Bjalki bristles. “I will make my own decision as to when and where I crouch in the ice. And I don’t sip tea with old women.” He draws himself to his full height, looming over Nana’s tiny frame. “I drink blood.”
My heart pounds so hard I’m afraid I’ll be sick, but Nana laughs, clutching her belly. “Pishtah. That does not impress me. In winter, the seal’s blood keeps us all alive. Even babies sup it. Anyone can drink blood but only a strong man can stomach a shaman’s tea.”
“Are you calling me weak, old hag? Let us have a test of strength. One of your men will wrestle me. You best choose a man you don’t need any more.” The Bear’s eyes glimmer with anticipation. My people are not warriors. We battle against the whale and we tussle with the seal on a line, but we do not wrestle to harm our opponent. The Too-lee man will lose more than this fight. Even if Bjalki lets him live, a crippled man will struggle to survive the harsh winter.
Nana doesn’t seem concerned. “You will have your show of strength,” she says. “And after, we will share whale stew for lunch.”
Grinning foolishly, Bjalki thinks he has the advantage, but he’s never met anyone like Ananaksaq. She’ll have something up her anorak sleeve.
“Is it agreed?” asks Nana.
The smell of Mama’s cooking drifts under our noses. Bjalki sniffs loudly, snout to the wind and nods.
No bear can resist Mama’s stew.
In front of our tent, Nana has marked a circle with stones. Around the stones, the women have laid skins and furs for seating. Northmen and Too-lee must sit together.
A Northman boy squashes in beside me.
“Thank you for rescuing my sister,” he says. “I am Leif, Bjalki’s middle son.” He looks me up and down. “You are not very big, but you are extremely brave.”
Staring into his eyes, I like what I see.
“Some people think I was very stupid,” I say.
He laughs. The Northman belly laugh. “That too. I wish I was stupid like you.”
Across the other side of the circle, Asmund is sitting with Finn. He catches me watching and winks.
“We could crush these little people easily,” I hear Ottar boast. “Why are we wasting our time here?”
“Patience, Ottar, and you will know your enemy as well as your friend. We must be careful not to underestimate the skraeling,” counsels Bjalki. “If the old one was a Northwoman, I would keep her safely imprisoned in my locker all the time. She’d cause no trouble there.”
Nana smiles to hear Bjalki’s words. She likes this big, blond, bad-tempered man. But maybe she will change her mind when he has torn us to pieces.
“Enough waiting,” the Bear booms. “Show me your strongest and bravest.” His voice slides into a sneer. “I will teach them a lesson no one here will ever forget.”
There’s a stillness so brittle you could cut it with a bladeless hunting knife.
Nana waves her story stick at Bjalki. “Pay close attention, for now I will demonstrate the strength of my people.” She beckons and Yanii limps forward.
Surely Nana doesn’t expect him to wrestle for us.
“Show Bjalki your injury,” she says.
Rolling up his trousers, Yanii reveals the mangled remains of his left leg. “A walrus attacked him,” explains Nana. “Still, Yanii battled on until the massive creature was beaten. Then, although he was weak and near death from loss of blood, he dragged the body back across the ice so his village would not starve. Thank you, Yanii.”
The little man shuffles back into the crowd.
“Lena, come forward and bring us your child.”
Placing a bundle in front of Nana, Lena unwraps it to reveal a tiny frozen body. “Two babies born at the same time cannot both survive,” Nana says. “The parents let this one go. Then they lovingly carried it for many months, to bring it here to be buried.” She picks up the little corpse, gently returning it to its mother’s arms. “Life on the ice is always hard and it makes the Too-lee very strong.”
When Nana gestures again, Bjalki interrupts.
“I have seen enough,” he says, getting to his feet. “I am not so stupid that I do not recognise strength is more than one man battling against another.”
Nana stands too. Her story stick commands everyone to listen. Even the Northmen are quiet. Grandfather K’eyush’s deer antler radiates magic and power.
“You are welcome in our home, Great Bear,” Nana proclaims. “This morning we open our hearts and tents to treat your people as our own.”
Nana wields her story stick like a giant sewing needle, drawing us all together. “Now we shall eat.”
From out of our tents, the girls bring bowls which Mama fills with whale stew. Miki heads towards me. My stomach growls louder than any bear, but she walks past to give her first bowl to Leif.
“What about me?” I complain.
“Get your own,” she retorts. “I’m not a servant.”
Leif laughs and I join in. I
suspect Miki would run to fetch anything he wanted but I have to get my own lunch.
Nana and Bjalki are standing beside Mama’s cooking pot. As soon as I’m close enough to hear what they’re saying, I wish I’d stayed where I was.
“My whale tastes good,” Bjalki says, patting his stomach.
Nana frowns, her brow furrowed dark like storm clouds.
“It’s not your whale.” Her voice rises to slice the chatter into slabs of silence. Everyone looks. Everyone waits.
“It’s not your whale either.” Bjalki’s voice is filled with menace as he rises. His face is a familiar purple and his fists are clenched.
Now Nana is pleased. “Yes.” She smiles and touches him gently on the arm. “I knew you would understand. No man owns the whale. Not you. Not me. It gives itself when its spirit chooses.”
Bjalki seems unsure what to do next. To stand and fight or sit down and think. The decision is made for him.
“It’s my plate. I touched it first.” Raynor’s voice grows in anger as he stretches to stab his gloved finger in the face of the Northman leaning over him.
“Touch my food again and you won’t have a hand,” the big man rumbles in response.
Papa moves to intervene, but with great strides, Bjalki is already there.
“I’ll handle this,” he roars, taking the plate and emptying the contents into the snow. “Now there is nothing for anyone.”
“That’s true,” Nana agrees. “If we don’t work together we will not have enough to eat. Still,” she fixes him with an icy stare, “there is never any excuse for wasting food.” Dropping to her knees, she scrapes the whale pieces back onto the plate.
Bjalki hesitates, as if about to help. But then he changes his mind. “We do not eat scraps.”
“Then you will starve,” Raynor mutters.
Papa puts his glove to his lips but it’s too late.
“What did you say?” Bjalki’s anger buffets Raynor’s face and the backwash catches us all. No one moves or speaks. Except Raynor, defiant to the end.
“I see you’re talking to me now,” Raynor says.
Raising his hand, Bjalki is poised ready to strike. One blow could easily kill.
Polar Boy Page 11
