Stranger from Another Land

by Hector Miller

  The two remaining raiders exchanged glances. Unsurprisingly, they ran.

  The villagers stood frozen, with their mouths agape.

  The giant walked over to the body of the man with the axe in his chest. He placed his leather boot on the neck of the corpse and retrieved his axe, the action causing a sucking sound. He carefully wiped the whetted blade with the dead man’s tunic.

  Then he turned to me and said in Greek: “How is the leg, boy?”

  Chapter 17 – gudagastiR (God guest)

  The villagers were all in shock. Many sat down where they stood, children cried, and others praised the gods. I was sure some still believed that the stranger was in fact Njord.

  The warrior walked over to me and placed his hand on my shoulder. “Give them my words”, he commanded.

  “Twenty-two Sea-Danes landed in a small cove, five miles from here. They dropped off these brigands to gather loot and slaves. No doubt the other villages close by is being raided. The ship will return.” He allowed me the time to translate.

  “When they return they will seek retribution. Gather your treasure. I will lead you into the forest. You will stay there until they depart.”

  We left the meat on the table and Unni and I hurried to the longhouse, supporting Runa between us.

  “Ragnar, take the animals outside and chase them into the forest”, Runa said.

  “Unni, dig into the soil underneath the hearth. Retrieve the box.”

  In one fur she packed our clothing, in another a joint of smoked ham and cooked eggs.

  When I returned from my task, we were ready to leave. “Ragnar, you carry the spear and the fur with the pot, the bowls, cups and ladles and the one with the food. Unni, you carry the clothes wrapped in furs.”

  “Come, Grandmother”, I said, and led her by the arm to the place of the feast. The old crone wisely carried a torch, as yet unlit.

  When we arrived at the place of gathering, Runa spread a woven cloth on the oak table and placed half of the red deer meat inside, the other half she wrapped in a second cloth.

  She pointed at the hulking warrior. “Ragnar, tell him to carry this.”

  I turned to him and translated her words: “The old lady requests kindly that you help carry the meat.” He took both packages, tied their ends together with a strip of cloth cut from a dead raider’s tunic, and slung it around his neck.

  Runa lit the torch from the remains of the fire in the pit and gestured for our saviour to lead the way.

  He nodded and led us into the woods.

  When we finally came to a halt it was past the middle hour of the night. En route I fell more than once, as had most of the others in our party, except Runa who walked behind the warrior carrying the torch.

  He called out to me: “Boy!”

  I approached and said: “Yes, lord?”

  “I am no lord”, he replied, scowling. Then added: “Remain here. They will not venture this far into the forest. Be sure that they have left before you return.”

  I nodded and the warrior turned on his heel and melted into the dark forest. Never did he remove his helmet to show his face.

  * * *

  I woke to two women arguing in low voices close by.

  “It was Njord! That’s what I say. Believe what you wish”, the one hissed.

  “You are a fool”, replied the second. “Did you not see him smite those warriors? It can only be the work of Donor!”

  Silence followed, the first probably weighing up the wisdom of the other’s words.

  The first countered: “Why did he speak to the boy then? Why did he not speak with the wise one?”

  “The boy must be his kin. Yes, that is the reason. They are kin. The young one came from the sea, from the home of Njord. He must be kin of Njord!”

  Runa pinched my arm. “Stop that eavesdropping god-kin”, she whispered with a smirk on her face.

  In any event, we stayed in the little copse protected by the thick brambles for the duration of the day. We collected water from the nearby stream and ate deer meat, which Runa proclaimed to be edible, as Njord himself had carried it.

  Early the following morning two farmers went to the woods surrounding the village to establish whether it was safe for us to go home. On their return to our hideout they shared the dire news.

  One farmer was too emotional to relay the tale. The other told us. “It has all been reduced to ash. Everything! I had to cut the throats of two cows that they had wounded. We have nothing but our lives and these clothes.”

  “Have they gone?” Runa asked. “Yes, Runa, we have scouted the whole coast. There is no ship and they are not at the settlement, nor are they hiding in the woods.”

  We took our meagre possessions and trekked back to the village, or rather, to where the village used to be. The Sea-Danes had burned all they had not taken. The proceeds of the harvest and even the winter fodder for the animals were no more.

  After the initial shock had passed, we spent the afternoon building a temporary shelter. A young pine was felled and lodged in the forked branches of two trees growing ten paces apart. Leafy branches were stacked at an angle to rest against the makeshift beam. Of course, it rained during the night, leaving us all cold, wet and miserable.

  On the morrow everyone was awake before dawn. Runa beckoned for me to move closer to where she was crouching, trying to rekindle a fire. “There are enough of us to improve the shelter, Ragnar. Go seek the council of the god”, she said and winked at me.

  There was no point waiting until the morning meal, as we had no food. I slowly made my way to the clearing where the stranger had first left me a message in the mud.

  When I arrived there was no sign of the man. I tried to find a track of some sort in the hope of finding the stranger’s home, but my efforts were unrewarded. Past the middle hour of the day I gave up and turned to find my way back to the village.

  I had only walked a hundred paces when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I spun around to come face-to-face with the unknown warrior.

  Or rather, face-to-chest would be a more accurate description. Gone was the armour and the helmet. The man who stood before me wore a short-sleeved woollen tunic tied in at the waist with a red sash. He was tall and muscular, his arms covered in strange swirling tattoos. His black hair was streaked with silver and hung loose to his shoulders, his black beard neatly trimmed. He stared at me with piercing dark eyes.

  “Why did you save me after the storm?” was the only words that came to mind.

  He studied me for a while, weighing his words. Then he spoke with a rasping voice: “I found you on the beach, boy. Truth be told, I was inclined to leave you to your fate. But you mumbled words in a tongue I had not heard for many seasons. The first time I heard that language, a man took pity on me. I am repaying the debt I owe to the gods.”

  I had no more words to give and stared back at him. “Come, boy”, he said. “Follow me and I will give you what you seek.”

  We walked without speaking, deeper and deeper into the woods, until the forest gave way to a rocky rise. He came to a halt in front of a large boulder against which leaned the dead trunk of a long fallen tree. He gripped the log and tilted it away from the boulder, to rest against a branch of a nearby tree. For a moment I thought that the stranger was truly not of this world, as only a god could have possessed enough strength to perform such a feat. Then I noticed that the tree was hollow on the inside, with only a thin layer of bone-dry wood remaining on the outside. With the log removed, a crack in the boulder was clearly visible. He gestured for me to enter and followed behind, then pulled the log back into position, as if closing a door.

  On the inside it was as dark as a moonless night. “We wait”, he said.

  After a while my eyes became accustomed to the dark and the black of night was replaced by a grey gloom. I followed him along a dark passage. When I had taken forty steps, the passage widened into a spacious cavern. He walked to the far wall and removed a hide from where it hung suspended from
a wooden peg. Daylight flooded into the room from a hole in the rock. He pointed to the fissure, which was large enough for me to crawl through. “On the outside there is a cliff. Look.” I walked to the hole, expecting to see trees. What I saw stunned me. Rather than trees, there was a great expanse of water. Miles away, I saw land covered in lush green forest. A thin fog hung over the water, hugging the coast.

  Only then did I study the interior of the cave. In one corner, a wooden sleeping platform was covered with furs. Many clay amphorae stood lined up against the side of the wall. Next to the amphorae, hammered into the soil, stood a wooden pole with three crosspieces from which was suspended the armour of the warrior. Beside the armour stood two spears, a longsword in a scabbard and two bearded axes, the blades protected by leather sheaths.

  A small crude table and chair stood against the wall facing the window, with an oil lamp in one corner. Above the table, in a natural fissure in the rock, were many scrolls.

  In front of the window overlooking the cliff was a hearth. Old worn furs surrounded it.

  He motioned for me to sit and took a place across from me. “You have come for my council, yes?” he asked.

  I nodded.

  “The harvest was looted by the raiders. Neither the villagers nor the animals have food for the winter. You have no shelter, and you fear that the raiders will come back”, he said.

  It was not a question, as we both knew it to be true.

  “Listen carefully. This is what you need to do”, he said.

  He continued: “The other two villages share the same fate, if not worse. Go to them and invite them to join you. All must help to construct a longhouse large enough for everyone. One dwelling can be built within weeks, before the snow comes. The wall and defences can wait for next year.

  While they build, you and I will go to the market in Uppsala. There we will trade for the food the village needs to survive.

  Come back here in three days’ time.”

  I was curious as to who this stranger was, but it would have been an insult to ask him. If he wished it, he would have shared it with me.

  Again I nodded and added: “Thank you, lord.”

  Chapter 18 – Njord

  “The guidance of Njord is most wise”, Runa said and stirred the copper pot containing thick meat stew. All of the villagers were gathered within the temporary shelter. The men had butchered the animals that could not be saved in the aftermath of the raid. At least we would eat well for a while.

  “He is not Njord”, I said. My proclamation was met with grunts of disapproval.

  “Who is he then?” a fisherman asked.

  “I do not know”, I replied.

  “Do not try to hide it boy. He is Njord”, someone said.

  “He is a man”, I replied. A farmer scoffed at my answer. “Njord is a shape-shifter. He can take any form.”

  Before I could answer, Runa intervened. “Tomorrow, Ragnar, you will accompany Unni and deliver a message to the two nearby villages. I will invite them to meet with me. My old legs will not make it that far.”

  We all had our fill of the thick, meaty stew that evening, knowing that we had to enjoy it while it lasted.

  When all was asleep on their furs inside the shelter, I lay awake. My mind was occupied with so many unanswered questions. Who was this strange man? Was he Njord, or just a man? And why did he pity us, or was there another reason for his actions?

  But boys, unlike grown men, do not ponder on problems overmuch.

  I woke early the following morning, eager to visit the neighbouring settlements, accompanied by Unni. We ate a hearty meal of leftover pottage and set off on the cliff-path leading to the closest settlement.

  Unni knew the way to the town. We walked at a relaxed pace because we knew we did not have far to travel. At first we talked little, each still trying to digest the happenings of the previous days. The silence was not uncomfortable as we had become like brother and sister, at ease in one another’s company.

  “Do you believe that the stranger is a god, Ragnar?” Unni asked after a while.

  “I think he is a mortal man, Unni”, I replied.

  “Are you sure?” she said and added: “How could one man alone defeat so many? He killed those warriors as if they were mere children.”

  “I do not know, Unni, but …”

  I wished to tell her about my grandfather, Abdarakos, and about Sigizan, champion of the Huns. About how they would have easily dealt with the raiders, but I thought better of it. I did not wish to let her know that my kin were killers. They were not that different from the raiders who attacked the town, although the Heruli were more skilled at their trade and operated on a much grander scale.

  Before she could question my response, the charred remains of a longhouse came into view. We were reminded of our own misery and we fell silent.

  In the distance twenty pathetic creatures were sitting in a small green pasture next to a partially burnt longhouse. When we came closer we realised that there were only four men among them. The rest were women and children. They had their backs turned to us and in front of them were the still smouldering remains of fires.

  Unni pulled me aside, behind a remaining piece of the broken palisade. “All those fires, Ragnar, are their dead that they have cremated. They use fire to hasten the journey to the afterlife.” Her blue eyes fogged over and tears rolled down her cheeks. “So much death! For what reason? You see, Njord did not pity them like he did us.”

  I waited until she regained her composure. Unni led me to where we were in plain sight, fifty paces from the villagers. “Hellooooo…”, she announced herself. A few of the bedraggled people spun around. The rest did not stir, but just continued to stare into the fires of their departed loved ones.

  The Heruli buried their dead, rather than burn them. Apart from the differences in practice, I had never experienced death of innocents on such a scale. Never had I thought that a scene of death and destruction would await us. I now understood the feelings of the people in our village; in their minds, only a god could have spared them this grief.

  At long last Unni found an elder of the settlement among the mourners. He was an old man, the age of Runa. She explained to him that Runa wished them to join us, but first she would discuss the idea.

  “We have nothing left, child. Five of the Sea-Danes came while we feasted. We are the fortunate ones, the rest were taken as slaves, or killed.” Tears streamed down his cheeks as he relayed the happenings. “My son, the one we all looked up to, was killed. He tried to keep the raiders from taking the children.” Again the oldster had to stop as he was unable to speak.

  “We will go to your village”, he said. “There is nothing left in this cursed place. I never wish to set foot here again.”

  * * *

  Unni asked that they send a boy ahead to warn Runa of their imminent arrival, then we set off again.

  We thought that the dire situation we had found at the village would prepare us for what we would find at the next.

  Unni told me that the village we approached was the largest of the three settlements in the area. Probably fifty souls called it home. “Ragnar, mayhap the raiders left them alone. I know of men who live there who are warriors, men able to wield sword and spear.”

  Her words gave me hope. Hope that was soon crushed.

  We found the first mutilated body a hundred paces outside the village. It was a man Unni identified as one of the village warriors. The second body lay close by. The limbs were hacked off and flies were swarming over the bloated corpse.

  Nausea overcame me and I vomited on the side of the road. A red hot rage rose inside me. I had grown up among warriors, but never witnessed such wanton destruction delivered onto near helpless people. I was but a boy, but I knew then what had to be done.

  The few people who were left in the town were taking care of the wounded and cremating the dead. As with the first village, the people did not require much convincing to join us. We helped them with their
grizzly task and when all was done, we accompanied them on a slow walk to their new home.

  The sun had set but it was still light when the last of the new villagers stumbled into our settlement and joined the people in the already overcrowded shelter. Everyone was kept warm by a blazing fire burning in the hearth. Thankfully it did not rain again.

  The last of the meat had been prepared during the day and there would be enough for all, even though some had to wait until a bowl became available to dish up the hearty broth.

  When all had fortified their stomachs, Runa stood.

  “You are welcome, brothers and sisters. From this night on, we are all family. Together we will survive. Together we will build a better future. It is the wish of Njord.”

  The elder that we had spoken to earlier in the day stood then. He gestured towards the assembled men and women. “I still see all the faces that I am familiar with. Did the Sea-Danes only burn your homes? Did they not take slaves, or put your men to the sword?”

  The fisherman stood then, as everyone was equal. “Five raiders came with sword and spear but Njord appeared. He came in our moment of need and struck down the raiders with his axe.” The old man frowned, thinking it a jest, but another, a woman stood. “It was not Njord, it was Donor.” She pointed at her eyes. “Saw him with these two eyes. It was Donor.”

  In the minds of the people of our village, it was not IF a god had come to save them, the argument was WHICH god had done so. Their belief was unwavering, and soon the newcomers believed as well.

  * * *

  I did as I was told and on the third morning I went to the forest.

  Not only did I go to help save my people from starvation, but I also had something else in mind. I wished no longer to be as the people I lived with. For a while I had thought that the life of a sheep was bliss, but I had seen the risks. I would not be a sheep. I would be a like the Heruli. I would become a wolf.

  The stranger was waiting for me. I nearly stumbled into him, so deep was I in thought.