The Viking Saga

by Henry Treece

  Someone in the crowd of trolls started to beat on a small drum, and then the trolls began to prance round the fire, slowly, like creatures in a bad dream, waving their harpoons as they went.

  At last, when the sweat was standing out on the brow of every viking, the strange dance stopped, and the old troll came forward once again.

  He stood in the firelight and tapped his broad chest with the flat of his hand, saying, ‘Jaga! Kaga! Jaga! Kaga!’

  Grummoch said, ‘I think he is telling us his name. Tell him yours, oath-brother.’

  So Harald stood up, slowly and gently, so as not to draw the harpoons upon himself. Then he too patted his chest and said, ‘Harald Sigurdson! Harald Sigurdson!’

  The troll listened, but did not seem to understand. So Harald spoke his name again and again, until it began to sound most foolish and he wondered why the Gods had given it to him.

  But at last the old troll seemed to understand, and said, pointing at Harald, ‘Rold Sgun! Rold Sgun! Rold Sgun!’

  Harald nodded, smiling, making the best of a bad job.

  Then the old troll swept his furry hand round to indicate his followers.

  ‘Innuit,’ he said. ‘Innuit.’

  Grummoch whispered, ‘He is telling us that the trolls call themselves Innuit, Harald.’

  Harald said, ‘Aye, that much had occurred even to me, friend. But who makes the next move?’

  There was little need to ask, for the question was soon answered. The old troll began to bark like a seal out on a Spring fjord, and immediately the Innuit rushed forward and took the Vikings, binding their arms with thongs of deerhide so swiftly that no man had the chance of defending himself.

  Harald said, ‘These men, if men they be, move faster then any I have known, even the men of Miklagard – and they are brisk little devils!’

  So it was that Harald Sigurdson and the Vikings with him were captured by the Innuit, just when they planned to sail away from Greenland in Long Snake.

  8

  The Cooking-Place

  Never did the Vikings forget their long journey to the north, bound down upon sledges and dragged by dogs; or sitting bundled up in long skin-boats, always nosing northwards round the nesses and along the black fjords.

  The Innuit treated them well, pushing blubber into their mouths, whether they wanted it or not; and wrapping them in bear pelts when the early darkness fell.

  The old troll, Jaga-Kaga, often came and looked down at them and touched their long hair, comparing it with his own thick grey locks, or the coarse black hair of his younger followers. Then he would nod and go away, shaking his head, puzzled. Once he went round lifting the Vikings’ eyelids, and staring into their pale eyes at a close distance, as though he thought they were sightless.

  Gudbrod Gudbrodsson said, ‘Never did I meet a man who smelt so like a bear before.’

  Thorfinn Thorfinnson said, ‘Never did I travel so slowly. These trolls take a week to go the distance we can go in one day, in and out the fjords with their strange boats.’

  Always where the Innuit rested for the night, they built little cairns of stones, under which they laid blubber and fish, so that their hunting-fellowship would have something to eat should they need to make the return journey southwards again.

  The Vikings, used to salt fish and fire-dried meat, could not stomach so much blubber at first, and many of them were sick when made to eat half-rotten grouse, with the skin still on it, and uncooked.

  But being sick did not save them, for immediately the old troll barked like a seal at his followers and they ran forward with more half-rotten grouse, so that their prisoners should not go hungry.

  Grummoch said, ‘When I get back to Norway, I shall eat no more meat, cooked or uncooked. Nor shall I look a fish in the eye again. But I shall eat only barley bread and drink only fresh milk, straight from the cow’s udder.’

  Harald said, ‘At the edge of the world, it ill becomes a man to speak of what he will do in the future. Mayhap there will be no future but this, for evermore. Only blubber and rotten grouse and skin-boats and stone hovels. Only that!’

  ‘Then,’ said Grummoch, ‘I hope that these trolls will stick their harpoons in me soon, for I am not the sort of man who likes living with dogs and eating birds with their feathers on.’

  Grummoch said this because when they came at last to the great cooking-place of the Innuit, all the Vikings were pushed into a long low hut of stone, together with the dogs, who snapped and snarled almost unceasingly.

  The ground was as hard as iron, and now each night there came such a bitter frost that the men were glad of the dogs, who slept on them and kept the cold from them, to some degree.

  Then the snow began to fall. The Vikings watched it through the little window-holes. It fell like an immense shower of feathers from the white breast of the swan, until it lay taller than a man, and then the long hut was buried deep.

  But the Innuit did not seem to notice this, and carried on hunting and dancing and drum-playing as though it were summer and not the start of a hard winter.

  They dug a tunnel to the long hut and passed back and forth, bringing blubber and lamp-oil to fill the little soapstone lamps, which gave a dim and smoky light and made the Vikings cough.

  The women of the Innuit came too, to gaze at the white-faced strangers with blue crystal eyes. These women were dressed exactly like the men, in skins, with a fur hood about their heads. But they were quiet-voiced gentle creatures, who simply squatted down among the dogs and smiled at the Northmen, without speaking to them.

  One day, as a great delicacy, a party of these Innuit women brought in a stone dish of hot seals’ liver and sat down while the Vikings ate it.

  This made some of them feel sick, but they did not show their queasiness in case it offended the Innuit women, who went to great pains to see that each Viking had the same amount of food as his fellow.

  Grummoch said, ‘They think we are dogs. Harald. You notice, they see that each dog gets his fair share, and so they do with us.’

  Harald said, ‘I do not care what they think we are, if only they would let us move about, outside this hut. I have begun to dream of huts and dogs, every night now. It is becoming unbearable. If they do not do something, I can feel that I shall run berserk, and that would be unlucky for them.’

  Grummoch said, ‘Yesterday when I was watching through the little window-hole on the side where the snow is thinnest, I saw a young troll strike an older one. They were arguing about hot seals’ liver. It was only the lightest blow, but it was a blow, nevertheless.’

  Harald said, ‘What happened then, oath-brother?’

  Grummoch said, ‘Ten of the others ran up and stripped off the young one’s fur clothes. Then they bound him hand and foot with reindeer thongs and merely laid him out in the snow. He did not cry out, but just lay, smiling. This morning the snow had covered him deeply. He will be seen no more until the Spring thaw, I would say. And this is what would happen if you ran berserk, my friend.’

  Harald said, ‘If only I had my sword, Peacegiver, I would risk what they did with me after I had struck the first blow. But our swords and axes lie in the weapon-hut near Long Snake still. These trolls did not seem interested in them, or in the longship. It is strange.’

  Grummoch answered, ‘They are a strange little folk. Almost like men, yet not quite men.’

  Harald said, ‘What did the young one look like, the one they laid in the snow, when they had stripped all the fur covering from him?’

  And Grummoch said, ‘Just like any other man, save that his skin was yellowish in colour. It seems to me that only their faces are different from those of proper men. It is their thick bundles of clothes that make them look like trolls. Their arms and legs are as well-formed as our own, and their bodies are much sleeker and plumper, since they feed so well, in a desert land that would not seem to provide food for a moderately-sized mouse!’

  That night the big dog who was the leader of all the others leapt at G
rummoch’s throat as he squatted over the fire, for no reason at all. Grummoch was compelled to deal with this dog in a final manner, lest the other dogs followed their leader and killed all the Vikings.

  It was not the sort of work which the giant enjoyed. Nor did he like to see the other dogs tearing at the body of their dead leader.

  But when it was all over, Harald said to him, ‘Now the dogs have elected you as their king, Grummoch. Look how they sit about you with their lolling tongues and bright eyes, as though they are asking you to tell them what they must do next.’

  Grummoch said, ‘I never hoped to become the king of the dogs. It ill becomes a Viking to talk bark-language, yet who can hold off his fate? And in any case, these dogs might be useful to us, in such a case as we are at present.’

  Grummoch got up then and went to the thick wooden door and began to scratch at it, pretending to bite at its edges.

  Immediately the pack of dogs jostled each other to do the same, pushing Grummoch aside as though they considered it beneath the dignity of their new king to perform so menial a task.

  Claw and tooth worked without ceasing, until at last the fierce dogs had broken through the hide strapping which held the planks together and then the door fell to pieces.

  The dogs stood back so that their king could pass down the long snow tunnel that led to the outside world.

  Grummoch bent low and crawled through the tunnel. The other Vikings made to follow him, but the dogs turned on them with a snarl, bidding them hold back, for they considered themselves the king’s bodyguard and must follow after him.

  Thorfinn Thorfinnson said wryly, ‘It ill becomes a Viking to stick his nose into business which does not concern him. I am content to wait until my dog-brothers give me leave to pass through.’

  Gudbrod Gudbrodsson said, ‘If I had my spear, Tickler, I would show these dogs what a Viking can do when he gives his mind to it – but, alas, my own teeth and nails would match but poorly with those of my new furry comrades!’

  Jamsgar Havvarson said, ‘I do not care now what happens, as long as these dogs do not expect me to run on all fours with them and grow a curly tail.’

  Thorfinn Thorfinnson said, ‘A curly tail is all you need to complete your equipment, for I have always thought you to resemble a dog rather than anything else.’

  Gudbrod Gudbrodsson said, ‘The sooner the Innuit lay you two out in the snow, the better; for there are two sorts of men I cannot abide – fools and bad poets.’

  Harald Sigurdson said, ‘If you three do not hold your peace, I will be compelled to act towards you as Svend Tryvlye acted towards the Lappland giant, and put my toe under your seats with a vengeance.’

  Then they were quiet, because Harald Sigurdson was said to have the best kicking-toe in Norway, as he had shown once when attacked without his sword by a bull. That bull had not dared to sit down for a week afterwards, and had attacked no one since. Some men said that this showed how wise a bull he was; others had said that it bore testimony to Harald’s kicking-toe.

  So the Vikings stopped arguing and followed the last of the dogs down the dark snow tunnel, into the space before the long ice-house of the Innuit.

  And there the Innuit were ranged behind their old troll leader, their bone arrows drawn to the head and pointing at the Northmen. The faces of the Innuit were fierce and stiff like stone, so that the Northmen began to think twice about rushing forward any further.

  But when Grummoch and the dogs stood in the open, with their breath rising like ghosts out of their mouths because of the cold, the old troll leader held up his hand to his followers and they lowered their vicious little bows. But their faces were still fierce and stiff like stone.

  Then the troll leader shuffled forward and patted Grummoch on the chest, as though he were a good dog – to do which he had to stretch up on tiptoe for there was a great difference in the height of the two men.

  Then all the Innuit shuffled forward and did the same, and bent and did the same to the dogs, who now sat with dangling tongues in the snow about Grummoch.

  ‘Odin be praised!’ said Gudbrod Gudbrodsson. ‘For at last we are accepted as being trustworthy dogs!’

  Thorfinn said, ‘That is well, unless they expect us to eat bones and pull sledges!’

  Harald said, ‘Remember the bull I once met on the fells above Jagesgard!’

  So they did not start another discussion.

  Now the Vikings were invited into the long ice-house of the trolls, among the men and the dogs, and the many women.

  This ice-house was buried deep under the snow and all its window-holes were stopped up with rolls of walrus hides. Twenty soapstone lamps burned there, and the place was extremely hot. Nor was the air made sweeter by the stack of seal carcasses and dried fish which stood in one corner. Harald blew down his nostrils for a while, then said to Grummoch, ‘Friend, this reminds me of the sweat-baths in Finnmark, but there they do not store fish and blubber as well.’

  Grummoch said, ‘I care not how this place smells. At least it is better than being in prison in the dog-house. Freedom is a lovely state, Harald. At least a Viking can die with a quiet mind when he knows that he is free.’

  Harald said, ‘I wish all you fellows would stop talking of dying, as though it is the prize most sought after in life. I want to live, and to see my two sons and my dear wife. Asa, again.’

  Grummoch said, ‘When I lived in Caledonia on my mother’s steading, and before I took service with King MacMiorog of Dun-an-oir, I was a pleasant enough fellow, and thought only of playing upon the flute and kissing the girls at the Wednesday barn-feasts. In those days I never spoke of death, for my mind was set upon making my fortune, and having great adventures. But now that I have had adventures a-plenty, and now that I know that few men make fortunes and keep them, I do not mind contemplating the possibility of death, which under certain circumstances, could become a restful state of being.’

  Harald said, ‘I shall not argue with you any longer, for this is a fool’s topic. I shall only correct you by saying that a state of being belongs to live men, and that dead men are in a state of no-being.’

  Never were there such argumentative men as were in the Northlands at that time. They would sit on a rock with the sea rising about them and argue about life and death until they were drowned. Indeed, in the village of Wadnesdon, just south of Kellsfjord, eight Vikings had been burnt to death only that year as they sat about the feast-board arguing about which leg of the table would be burned off first when the fire spread.

  Now in the ice-house all was bustle and blubber-eating. The women ran here and there and pushed gobbets of the shiny fat into the mouths of their guests.

  And after a while the Innuit men began to take off their heavy fur clothes, because of the great heat, until they wore only a little strip of seal-hide about them. Soon the Vikings did likewise, for this was the hottest place they had ever known.

  Then the Innuit men and women admired the wolves and bears and dragons which many of the Northmen had tattooed upon their chests or backs, tracing them with their little yellow fingers in wonder.

  Grummoch, who had the great snake of Midgard etched on his broad chest, was an object of especial wonder. He was also very ticklish. So it was that before long most of the young Innuit folk swarmed about him to hear him laughing as he rolled on the floor among the fish bladders and sealskins, trying to escape the roguish fingers.

  The dogs became so worried at seeing their new leader treated in such a manner that they began to snarl, and had to be driven back to their dog-house with walrus-hide whips, lest they attacked the Innuit on Grummoch’s behalf.

  And that evening was a very merry one for all, especially when the Vikings discovered that the Innit had a store of stone jars full of red berry-juice, which had much the same flavour as their own bramble wine back at home above the fjord.

  9

  Strange Cargo

  The next day, since Grummoch had seemed to desert them by sleeping in the
ice-house, the dogs disowned him as their king and fought among each other to elect another king.

  Grummoch was not sorry about this, for he little looked forward to learning bark-language, which seemed to him a mighty difficult form of speech, especially since it often must be accompanied with waggings of the tail, or suchlike antics, of which he felt himself largely incapable.

  Learning the Innuit language was bad enough, in that long winter about the fire with the blubber-lamps smoking and the fish-stack getting riper and riper.

  Yet there was this consolation, that the Innuit had very few words, and by and by the Vikings made a fair show at saying what they wished in the Innuit tongue; though they made many errors in pronunciation, of course. Yet the Innuit women were always most patient and repeated words again and again, until even Jamsgar Havvarson, who was slow-witted, had picked up the main words.

  Not only did the Vikings learn the Innuit language; they also learned to run with the hunting-fellowship and spear seals and walruses on the frozen sea. Often they would run for mile after mile in the moonlight, for there was no day now at all, to where they had heard there was a family of seals. And then they would help carry back the load to the cooking-place, and be rewarded by the Innuit women with hot seals’ liver.

  Grummoch said once, ‘My next task will be to learn the seal language, which should not be difficult since I have eaten so much seal-meat that I am more than half a seal myself.’

  But he did not do that. Instead, he killed a white bear.

  This happened quite by accident, since, if Grummoch had known it was going to happen, it wouldn’t have happened at all. He was not so great a fool as that.

  One day, Grummoch was down in a bear-pit, setting the sharp stakes of whalebone so that when the Innuit had covered the hole with sealskin and snow, a white bear might fall down there and be spiked, since this hole was dug on the white bear tracks.

  Suddenly Grummoch was aware that there were no Innuit up above to hand down the whalebone stakes. Then he saw that a great white bear, as tall as himself, was looking down at him, waving its head about on a neck as lithe as a snake.