Leif Erikson and the Frost Giant

by Mark Philipson

  Leif didn’t know if he believed the story about the Bear-man and the white wolves or not. He didn’t care if the stories held the same weight as the Norse Sagas or the teachings of Christ. What he did know was if he could get his hands on some of the silvery stones he could pay King Olaf off and get out of the sentence of servitude.

  Ten

  Draskawindit’s Demand

  TWO days later the day of the feast arrived. Ulf and a skeleton crew stayed behind to man the ship. Leif, Bjarte, and the rest of the crew boarded the log boats. Beothuk tribesman, using their short oars, rowed the crew to shore.

  Leif and Bjarte stepped into the great lodge Chief Sakawaduit had set up in the middle of the camp. It was made from many animal hides stitched together to form one large covering. Tree limbs had been cut. Once the limbs were stripped of bark and straightened by ax blade, the hide was draped over the wooden frame.

  Sakawaduit, bare chested and clad only in a loincloth, stood when he saw Leif and Bjarte. He said a few words in Beothuk. One of his mates left the tent. She returned with Draskawindit a short while later. Draskawindit stood in the entrance, dressed for the feast. Leif tried not to stare at the breasts he’d been imagining for days.

  When Leif’s gaze returned to her face Draskawindit said to Leif and Bjarte, “Greetings from Sakawaduit on this day of the feast.”

  “Thank Sakawaduit for inviting us,” Leif replied. Bjarte nodded.

  Behind Sakawaduit’s lodge, pits had been dug. Men and women, dressed for the feast, placed kindling in the pits. Beothuk tribesman carried in freshly slaughtered carcasses of wild boar and deer and quartered the meat. When sharpened limbs impaled the meat it was lifted and set on the forks of thick branches. Soon, fires burned in the pits. Men and women rotated the skewers slowly.

  Women, carrying baskets on their heads, entered the camp. They emptied the baskets of plump mushrooms, dark and light oblong things called “potatoes,” red tomatoes, bell peppers, and many other types of vegetables Leif had never seen.

  The women, carrying the empty baskets, returned to the forest. A short while later the drums began a slow steady pounding. The women returned to the camp, baskets packed with apples, pears, and wild blueberries. The drummers picked up speed. Leif could feel the pounding of the taught animal skin hides vibrating in the pit of his stomach.

  Sakawaduit stepped out of his lodge. Beothuk men and women, not tending to the cooking, gathered around. The drums ceased when he held his hands in the air. He spoke, pausing here and there. The Beothuk cried out and became silent when Sakawaduit nodded.

  “Sakawaduit says the feast will begin now,” Draskawindit turned to Leif and Bjarte.

  “All that for just one sentence?” Bjarte questioned. “It seemed as though he said much more.”

  “Sakawaduit gave the names of the men who will give their lives in honor of the Beothuk today.”

  “Are these men condemned criminals, Draskawindit?” Bjarte asked.

  “What does that mean?”

  Bjarte went on to explain what a crime was and the forms of punishment.

  When he was done Draskawindit said, “The crime these men have committed is to be a Beothuk not born on this land.”

  “What does that mean?” It was Bjarte’s turn now.

  Draskawindit went on to explain how any man, not born on Sakawaduit’s land, was a sworn enemy. Even members of the same tribe.

  Leif could see Bjarte biting his lip to keep from opening his mouth.

  “They are coming out now.” Draskawindit said when a group of men, bound together by leather straps, were led to the beach.

  The Beothuk buried the men up to their necks in the wet sand. The tide was low. Judging by the marks on the beach the men’s heads would be under water in a matter of hours.

  The Beothuk feasted on roasted meat, wild vegetables and fruit while the tribesmen buried on the beach slowly drowned.

  With the tide high Leif didn’t have to look at the men being drowned. He said to Draskawindit, “We spoke of the Ice Field two days ago. Do you know of any member of the tribe that could show me the way?”

  “I know of one,” Draskawindit answered.

  “And his name?” Bjarte asked. He removed a piece of vellum and stylus from his robe. An inkwell came out of the robe. He uncapped the inkwell and sat with the tip of the stylus poised to dip.

  “The name of the man who knows the way to the Ice Field?” Draskawindit asked. She seemed to be stalling for time.

  “Yes, the man’s name,” Bjarte repeated.

  “And when I tell you his name will you capture it with that stick and imprison it on that hide?” Draskawindit asked.

  “In the first place it’s not a stick, it’s a stylus. Secondly, it’s not a hide, it’s a form of paper,” Bjarte said, rolling his eyes.

  “Bjarte is a man of letters,” Leif said. “He will take your words and place them on the page.”

  “I can’t do this,” Draskawindit refused flatly.

  “Why?” Bjarte asked.

  “The Beothuk believe that to capture a man or woman’s name or form is to capture their ...” Draskawindit trailed off, searching for words. She placed her hand over her heart and touched her temple at the same time.

  “I think you mean soul or spirit, Draskawindit,” Bjarte said.

  “My spirit is mine, I can’t give it to you to put on your paper.”

  “We understand and respect your beliefs,” Leif nodded.

  Bjarte, eyebrows narrowed, cast a hard glance in Leif’s direction.

  Leif went on, “You have your beliefs and I have my desire. And you know what that is. To be able to reach my goal I need to know how to get to the Ice Field. I need someone that has been there before to show me the way. By word or by deed.”

  Draskawindit remained silent. Finally, she said, “Captain Erikson, you have reached a fork in your path. If you take one fork, the one with no one to guide you, you may not reach what you need. On the other fork, if you take the man I told you of, your chances are better. On the same fork, if you take me with you as the voice between the man and you, your chances get even better.”

  Eleven

  Sakawaduit’s Demand

  THE day after the feast Leif ordered Ulf to put the crew to work making the Ormr in langi ready to sail. Ulf traded with the Beothuk iron tools for baskets of fish filets. The crewman in charge of food supplies buried the meat in coarse grains of salt in preparation for the brine and drying.

  Cisterns were replenished with fresh water drawn by Beothuk women from mountain streams.

  The blacksmith on board the Ormr in Langi hammered out thin strips of metal. He gave the carpenter the metal bands. The carpenter wrapped the bands around the oars. He hammered short iron nails through the bands, reinforcing the handles, stems, and blades.

  The sailing crew mended sails and replaced rigging rotted from saltwater with fresh lines.

  The men worked quickly. “Aye,” Ulf said. “They are all eager to get back to shore and lay with as many Beothuk women as they can. Only Odin knows what waits for us at the end of this voyage.” He shook his head.

  Leif and Ulf went over the ship. Bjarte followed, peering at a scroll, when Leif asked things like, “Are the deck planking joints sealed?” or, “Are all the oarsmen’s sea chests loaded with gear and in place?” Ulf would answer. Bjarte listened then made marks next to words on the scroll.

  When Leif stopped questioning Ulf Bjarte said, “The list is complete.” He laid the scroll out and traced the items with the tip of the stylus. “The ship is ready to sail.”

  “Indeed,” Leif shook his head. “We are missing two things. Two things of great importance.”

  Bjarte scanned the list again. Certain he’d covered all the items, he insisted, “All the entries have been marked.” He ran the stylus up and down the margin.

  “What I’m speaking of is not on the scroll.” Leif stroked the hair on his chin and raised one eyebrow.

  “Truth, I’d fo
rgotten about Draskawindit and the guide,” Bjarte nodded. He added two more entries to the document.

  On the shore, warriors pushed Sakawaduit’s twin-hulled log boat across the beach. Not long after that, the chief and a party boarded the log boat. Warriors continued pushing the boat until it was in the water. They jumped in and rowed Sakawaduit across the bay.

  From the deck of the pilot house, Leif watched the chief’s boat approach. Among the usual mates and warriors Sakawaduit kept close at hand, Leif saw a face he’d never seen. Like most men of the Beothuk, he was tall, lean, and muscular. As the log boat neared, Leif saw weather beaten skin crisscrossed with scars. The man looked young and old at the same time. Draskawindit stood between Sakawaduit and this man. Perhaps he was the hunter Draskawindit had spoken of. The man who knew the way to the Ice Fields.

  Sakawaduit said a few words to Draskawindit when the log boat pulled alongside the Ormr in langi. Draskawindit nodded when the chief finished. She said, “The chief wishes to know if Skipper Leif and the men of the sea are leaving in the great war canoe?”

  “That is the plan, Sakawaduit. We are making the ship ready to sail,” Leif said. He waited for Draskawindit to relay the message to the chief.

  Sakawaduit spoke. His party laughed. Draskawindit said, “The chief wants to know how many Viking seeds have been planted in Beothuk women?”

  Leif didn’t know how to answer that. What his crew did once they hit the beach was their own business. As long as a man did his job on the ship he could share his bed with a woman or a man. Some of the bravest men Leif knew chose to lay down with other men. If any of these men dropped their seeds in a Beothuk no children would be born of those unions. He knew which men in his crew were not responsible for giving children to the women of the tribe. “When my men aren’t sailing they are farmers,” Leif shrugged. He waited for Draskawindit to tell Sakawaduit the answer.

  Sakawaduit looked puzzled at first. Draskawindit used hand motions to describe bearded men, boats in the water, men tilling the soil, men and women coupling, and babies being born. Sakawaduit listened with his eyes then laughed. He spoke to Draskawindit.

  “Sakawaduit says it is the way of the land mother and the sky father for men and women to be as one.” Draskawindit pressed her hands together. Leif felt a stirring in his crotch. He swore she shot him a quick wink and a smile.

  “Does Sakawaduit bring the hunter who knows the way to the Ice Field today?” Leif directed the question to the chief through Draskawindit.

  Leif waited for Draskawindit to come back with the reply. “This man is Nogwinto, he is a great tracker, hunter, and fisher. He is the son of Bartuko and his second mate Yakindool. He can read the signs of the winds, clouds, and rains. He knows when the animals of the forest and the fish in the water are hungry. He knows the way to the Ice Fields.”

  “We welcome this man to the Ormr in langi.” Leif, seeing the wide-eyed stare on Nogwinto’s face, gestured from the wooden rudder at the stern to the bronze dragon on the prow. Nogwinto looked from Sakawaduit’s war canoe to the Viking ship. Leif saw on Nogwinto’s face the look of a man who knew a well-built craft when he saw one.

  Sakawaduit spoke at great length. When he finished Draskawindit said, “Skipper Leif wants something from Chief Sakawaduit. The chief wants something from Skipper Leif in turn. Nogwinto, with the head, eyes, ears, tongue, and hands of Draskawindit, will lead Skipper Leif to the land of the Ice Field.

  “The Ice Fields lie near the land of the dim light and snow that doesn’t melt. Not far from my land live the Beothuk that are not part of my tribe. I’m asking you, Skipper Leif, to use your great snake headed war boat to kill all the warriors and capture the women?”

  Twelve

  The Need for Weapons

  IN his mind’s eye Leif saw his men buried up to their necks in sand with an incoming tide approaching. Leif didn’t want to think about what would happen if he refused Sakawaduit’s demand. He pushed those thoughts from his mind.

  Leif looked at Draskawindit. “Tell Sakawaduit, return when the sun is high and I will give him the answer he seeks.”

  The chief nodded when he heard Draskawindit’s words. Sakawaduit made a hand signal to the warrior manning the crude tiller. The helmsman gave an order to the warriors manning the oars. They untied and pushed off from the ship.

  Leif waited until Sakawaduit’s party was well out of earshot. “What type of weapons do we have in the arsenal?” He asked Ulf.

  “I will see,” Ulf answered. He climbed down from the top of the pilot house to the main deck.

  “Captain Erikson, are you actually considering becoming involved in a war between these savages?” Bjarte asked. He had an anxious look on his face, as though he were waiting for Leif to say no.

  Leif turned to Bjarte, Looking him straight in the eye, he said, “If it buys freedom for my crew — the answer is yes.”

  “These are not the King’s wishes …” Bjarte trailed off then added, “… orders.”

  “The King’s orders are to colonize new lands and spread Christianity,” Leif said. “We are on a new land. Putting in with Sakawaduit is the best tack to take right now. As far as spreading the word of God, as monk to the king, that is your job.”

  “Very well,” Bjarte muttered. He looked at the deck. When he lifted his head he said, “I know, and my God knows, that I haven’t been his strongest advocate on this voyage. King Olaf doesn’t know this and he doesn’t need to know. That is something that I will have to deal with on my own. I support your decision, Captain Erikson.”

  Leif was relieved. By the way of the Vikings, Leif, as captain, could kill a man who disobeyed an order given on the deck of the ship. Leif admired and respected Bjarte. He would take no joy in the act of ending his life.

  Ulf returned. “We have iron helmets, enough for every man on board. We have enough long-handled axes to arm every oarsmen.”

  “Are the men ready for this?” Leif asked. He’d remembered tales his father and friends told about Viking raids on harbors. Oarsmen stood on deck, long axes in hand. Grappling hooks caught and pulled the long boats close in to their quarry. Leif could only imagine the shouts of the Vikings, raising and lowering the six-foot handles. Axe heads cutting through flesh and breaking bone. Blood and gore clinging to the blades and littering the decks. Erik the Red, Leif’s father, said the first time he stood toe to toe against an enemy ship he fouled himself. A man couldn’t run far from a fight on the deck of a long boat. He had two choices: fight or swim.

  “There are five men on the crew with battle experience. If it comes to fighting between decks, it won’t take long for the other men to catch on,” Ulf shrugged. “We have short handled axes and three types of daggers for close fighting. When it comes to that the man who can get in a killing strike first wins.”

  “Make sure the men are armed with long bladed knives.” Leif didn’t know why he said this. Going into battle was new to him. He knew about the daggers given to Vikings when battle loomed on the horizon. The main weapon was the long-bladed knife. Its three-sided shaft gave strength to the 18 inch blade. Discs mounted at the rear and front of a leather-padded hilt felt firm in a man’s grip. In battle, every man in the crew, not just the oarsmen, wore three knives: the long blade for thrusting just beyond arm’s length, the middle blade for stabbing when the enemy was close enough that the tip of your dagger touched him when your elbow was at your side, and the short sword-hilt, used when you could see the veins in a man’s eyes and smell his breath.

  “Is something wrong, Skipper?” Ulf asked. Leif, lost in thought, looked toward shore at the log boats and Beothuk encampment.

  “Yes, there’s something wrong with those weapons,” Leif nodded.

  “These are common weapons for Viking raiders. I should know, I’ve used each one to draw blood,” Ulf said. “I’d say one Viking is worth ten Beothuk in a fight.”

  “Spoken like a true Viking,” Bjarte said under his breath.

  “Are you saying my men
are afraid of those wild men, monk?” Leif asked. He stepped closer.

  “No one doubts the courage of any man on this ship.” Leif stepped between them. “The Beothuk fight in a different manner. The make heavy use of the spear and bow, both weapons that can reach out and kill from afar. We are prepared for close fighting. We would have to get right up to the warriors before we could do any damage with our axes and daggers. We may have to wade through a hail of arrows and spears just to get close enough to go to work.”

  “It is granted that the Vikings are all brave men, and I apologize for casting any disparity on this fact” Bjarte said. “As Captain Erikson says, we would be cut to ribbons before we got close enough the the Beothuk to hurt them. We need an edge, something that will ensure victory while losing the least amount of the crew possible.”

  “What he means is he takes back the words about speaking like a true Viking,” Leif said when he saw the puzzled look on Ulf’s face.

  With his anger lifted, Ulf could see the sense in this. If a crewmen died on this voyage it would be hard to find another man to take his place. They would need every man on board for the return trip back to Greenland and the eastern settlement.

  Thirteen

  Weapon of Choice

  “IF we got some spears and bows from the Beothuk, we could train the men in their use, would that give us the edge you’re looking for?” Ulf said in a tone that asked and told at the same time. He waited for an answer.

  “That’s a good thought, still not a plan we could put into action,” Leif replied. “It takes practice to become skilled in the use of the long bow. Learning how to use the bow, like any other skill, takes time. Time is one thing we don’t have much of and the one thing we won’t get more of.”

  “Well, that puts us back to where we started,” Ulf grunted. He stepped back and leaned against the gunwale.