by Mark Coakley
30: TO JERUSALEM
It is said that almost a year passed before Halfdan's belly fully healed, and that he was never as strong after the stabbing as he had been before. It is also said that the traitor's rusty spear-tip caused unhealable harm to Halfdan's insides; for the rest of his long life, Halfdan would complain of shitting-pains.
Early on in Halfdan's slow recovery -- a few days after the election of King Atli, when Halfdan was still too weak to get out of bed -- Halfdan told Yngvild and Siv of a strange dream.
"I dreamed of my mother last night," he said. "Aasa floated into this room, to talk to me. She looked just as the old folk in Os described: with skin blacker than the sky between stars, hair like the wool of a black sheep, and eyes just like mine. She wore a strange gown, in bright colours and outlandish patterns. And from her back --"
"What?" Siv said.
Halfdan said, "On her back were two huge wings, spreading to either side of her. One of the wings was black, like the wing of a crow, and the other white, like that of an owl from the far north."
"Like the paintings in that religious building in England you told us about," Yngvild said.
"Yes, except for the black wing," Halfdan said. "Her feet did not touch the floor; she floated to my bedside, the wings flapping slowly, just enough to keep her floating over the floor. I said, 'Why are you here?' and she said, 'You know,' and I did. I remembered that I had vowed to set free one of the slaves from England, a madwoman called Leoba. With the excitement of Venn's stabbing and your divorce and the election, I'd forgotten about Leoba and my vow. I said, 'You emerged from the shadow-world of death just to remind me to free a slave?' And my mother said, 'Yes. Leoba's life is precious to me.' I said, 'Because you are both Christians?' She told me, 'Yes.' That made me feel very angry. She had left me alone for so long, teaching me nothing about who I was or what to believe, and then I almost die and am in agony every day -- and when Aasa's ghost shows up, she is more interested in what happens to some outlander slave-bitch than her own son! It was insulting, like my life meant nothing to her. I shouted, 'That's the only reason you came? Because of Leoba?' And my mother said, 'Yes. I am following orders.' 'Whose orders?' She said, 'You know,' and I did -- I remembered seeing a statue of that Christ-god, dangling by his hands from a wood-beam, and I knew that this Christ ruled my mother. And my mother knew my thoughts. She said, 'Yes, Christ rules me. I gave my undying ghost to Christ, long before I gave the rest of me to your father, and now I dwell in glory in heaven.' 'What about Odin and Tor and my gods?' She shrugged -- it was so strange, seeing a ghost shrug like that, wings growing from behind her shoulders -- and she said, 'Your gods are getting weaker every generation. In the long-ago days, they did great things, but now, what? They do nothing but wait for the end of the world and pass the time gambling on human battles. They only hide in the clouds, useless. They are dying. It will not be long before they are all forgotten, forever, and Christ will rule all of Norway, forever.' I said, 'What does this Christ want from folk, anyway?' She said, 'Justice. Love. Forgiveness. Now I must leave.' She turned and started floating towards the door, wings flapping. I tried to get out of bed to follow, but it was too painful and my body too weak. I called out, 'Wait.' At the door, she said, 'What?' There was so much I wanted to ask her. But my mind went blank. What did I most want to ask her? All I could think to say was, 'Tell me something interesting.' She said, 'Do you want to know about your father?' 'Yes!' My mother's ghost said to me, 'Gødrød is still alive. He went to the east, farther east than any Norseman had ever travelled, fighting for many different kings. He was made a captive after a great battle in a desert. The conquerors took him as a slave to their homeland, farther east. He is still a slave, in a land at the eastern edge of the world, building an unimaginably-long wall of stone. Gødrød is now an old man, married to a slave and their children and grandchildren are slaves. When he is too old to lift heavy stones, he will die in that odd, distant land.' I said nothing, wondering at my father's fate. Before she could leave, I asked, 'Mother, what should I do?' and she said, 'You know, my boy," and floated out through the door, gone."
Yngvild asked Siv, "What does the dream mean?"
Siv said to Halfdan, "Set free the slave. I don't know how to interpret the rest of that strange dream."
"Nor do I," Halfdan said.
The next day, Ole walked to a farm near Eid and spoke to the man who owned it.
"You have a new slave-girl, one of the outlanders from the raid," Ole said.
The farmer said, "Yes. So?"
"Halfdan wants to buy her," Ole said. He held out an apple-sized piece of silver; it was much more than the normal price for a slave of Leoba's age and gender.
The farmer eyed the silver with interest but, being honest, said, "If Halfdan wants her, he should know that she's one of the most useless slaves I've ever owned. Hardly ever wants to work, always rolling her eyes at the sky and weeping. Can't dig a ditch or even clean out a pig-pen. Not even pretty. I can sell Halfdan something much better than her."
"Halfdan wants that one."
"Fine." The farmer took the lump of silver.
Some neighbours were witnesses, as Ole chanted to Leoba, "No longer a slave, now freedom is yours." He chanted it nine times, as the law required, and after the ninth repetition she was legally freed.
Leoba said to the farmer, "You will fry in Hell for what you did to me."
The farmer looked at Ole, saying, "See? I warned you about this one."
"Let's go," Ole said.
He and Leoba walked away from the farm, towards Eid. Her head had been shaved to the skin; she wore cheap grey clothes; half-healed whip-scars could be seen on the back of her neck; more pain-stripes were on her back, hidden by her rough slave-garb. Leoba looked thin and tired and her eyes were dazed. But her odd, rude and fanatical character was almost unchanged.
She said, "Where are you taking me?"
"To the docks."
"Why?"
"To put you on a ship."
Leoba stopped walking for a moment, staring at Ole in shock.
"A ship to where?"
Ole said, "Wherever you want. Come on, I have better things to do than talk with you."
"Wherever I want? Jerusalem!" Leoba raised her face and hands to the sky, shrieking, "O, Mother Mary! You heard my prayers! Blessed Virgin Mother! I am coming!"
Ole snarled, "Hurry up, bitch, or I'll speed you along with a kick!"
Leoba followed Ole to the docks. Many war-ships and fishing-ships and trading-ships were roped to the rebuilt docks, bobbing in the gentle waves of the fjord. Men walked around, carrying loads and shouting orders and making repairs and drinking in small groups and doing business.
Ole said, "Halfdan told me to arrange passage on a trading-ship for you. You can take one of the ones here, or if you want to go someplace that nobody here is going, you can wait for another ship to arrive. So, where do you want to go?"
"Jerusalem!"
"Where?"
"Jerusalem!"
&
nbsp; "I don't know where that is, but I'll check."
Leoba waited at the foot of the docks as Ole went from trading-ship to trading-ship, chatting with each ship's owner or its steersman. Now and then, Ole gestured at Leoba or showed someone the silver.
Ole walked back to Leoba and said, "None of them are going to Jerusalem. How about Førde?"
Leoba said, "I don't know where that is."
"It's a Norse town on a different fjord, over there." Ole pointed to the south-west. "Not many outlander ships come to Eid. More of them come to Førde. Over there, you'll have a better chance of finding a ship going out of Norway. I don't know about finding one to Jerusalem -- none of these sailors have heard of the place -- but maybe you will get lucky."
"To Førde, then," Leoba said.
Ole gave Leoba a leather bag containing various items, including a small piece of silver for the passage to Førde and a much bigger piece to pay for the next step of her journey. He took her along the dock, to a ship owned by fur-traders -- it was called "Sea-Slicer" -- and she waited on the dock as he finished the arrangements.
Ole stepped back on the dock.
The steersman gazed at Leoba, looking impatient. "Get on, we don't have all the time in the world," the steersman said.
Ole said to Leoba, "You have to do as he says. No more arguing with everybody anymore. That's important."
"Goodbye," Leoba said. "And thank you."
Ole said, "Thank Halfdan. May the gods speed you away."
"And may God's Truth someday touch your soul, brother. It's not too late, for you or anybody."
Ole looked confused.
Leoba half-smiled, crossing herself. She took a deep breath of the warm, salt-scented air. She stepped onto the fur-piled deck of Sea-Slicer and out of this saga.
