A Bone to Pick (10 page)

The Thing drags on, and Gunnar loses interest. After he slips away to his warm bed, Sigrid decides she, too, has had enough of hiding in the shadows. She will learn what is to happen soon enough, she thinks, and steals back to the longhouse. Sigrid is chilled and would like to crawl in beside Snorri. But after a quick feel of his damp bed she changes her mind and slides into her own bed instead without a bit of guilt. Let Aunt Gudrid clean him for once, she thinks as she drifts off to sleep.

Long after the cock crows the settlers sleep on. Sigrid can feel that the morning is wearing on by the cracks of light that seep through the chinks in the sod house. Soon she hears the banging of pots as Aunt Gudrid makes ready the morning meal.

“What was decided last night?” Sigrid asks while her aunt heats the fish stew.

“I thought you knew? You were spying, weren't you?”

Sigrid's face feels warm. “Spying? I, ah … well, maybe just a little. Gunnar was, too. But I couldn't stay until the end.”

Sigrid notices for the first time that Gudrid looks almost happy. “We're leaving soon, girl, and there's much to do in preparation. We must start right away, and everyone will need to help.”

Sigrid feels numb and flops onto the bench.

“We've all been assigned jobs. You're to boil and prepare the fungus mats,” says Gudrid.

Suddenly wide awake, Sigrid howls, “Me? Why me? That's the most disgusting job in the world. I don't want to stand over a stinking pot of Norsemen urine. I'd rather die at the hand of an ogre.”

“I thought you might feel that way. But since dying isn't an option, you'll be in charge of the fungus mats. You're always saying you don't like women's work, so there you have it.” Gudrid can barely conceal her glee. For once she has the upper hand.

“Perhaps I should watch over Snorri instead and let you do that work. After all, I'm just a girl. I can help dry the fish and collect firewood, too.”

Gudrid snickers into her apron.

“Thanks, Niko. I really enjoyed hearing about Sigrid the Brave,” I said when Niko's story came to an end. “It's really cool the way the Beothuk tried to help her.”

“Yah, the settlers realized this the moment they found the bear's body riddled with arrowheads. Then they realized the arrow points were made from discarded iron slag and spent iron nails from behind the forge. It was most unsettlin',” said Niko.

“Is that because it showed the Beothuk were capable of sneaking into their village?” asked Louise.

“Exactly. It showed the Norsemen the potential danger they faced as long as the two were enemies.”

It was time I went back to the cook tent. I was already in the doghouse with too many people. I couldn't risk being late and upsetting Bertha again. “Thanks, Niko. Can I come again and hear more stories?”

“Absolutely, Peggy. It's what I do.”

Louise followed me when I left. “So when are the hob snobs goin' to let us help with the excavation?”

There wasn't an easy way to say this. “Ah, well … I don't … I mean, it doesn't seem …”

“I knew it. They're not goin' to let us, are they? I told ya this would happen,” Louise growled. I could see her anger simmering. “That's my cave, you know. I found it. So what about that friend of yers? I thought ya said she wasn't like the others.”

“She's not, Louise. But Professor Brant has it in for her now, too. I don't think she has any say in the matter.”

Louise growled some more. “What a big mistake it was to let ya see my cave. Now look where it's got me.”

“I'd probably feel the same way, but I still think it's better that the cave is going to get the kind of expert treatment it deserves. There's no arguing that it's going to be one of the most important sites in eastern Canada. They'll probably make a documentary about it and show it on the History Channel.”

“Really? And who do ya think will get all the credit fer discoverin' it?” Louise's eyebrows were furrowed deeply. “Ya know, it isn't so much that they're goin' to get all the credit. What hurts more is that they won't even let me be part of the excavation.”

Louise was right. It was bad enough I'd been banned, but they didn't need to punish her, too. If she hadn't been curious and made the discovery, they'd still be digging in a pretend excavation site with Tinkertoys and other junk in place of real artifacts.

“If I can, I'll try to talk to Eddy, okay? I know they'll never let me, but maybe she can find a way for you to get in there.” When we parted, Louise looked a tiny bit hopeful.

After I got back to the cook tent, Bertha had already cooked the noodles for the lasagna. “Good, just in time to do the layerin',” she said. “I've got to start on the pies.”

As I worked, I played over in my mind the story Niko had told about Sigrid the Brave. She was definitely my kind of girl. When I accidently poured tomato sauce onto my shirt, it made me think about Sigrid's bloodstained tunic and how her life had ended. Then there was me — destined to die of boredom.

“Hi, Peggy,” Eddy said when she came in for supper. My face flushed, and I tried to avoid eye contact. “I thought you might want to eat your supper with me.”

I looked over at the tables of students and the other professors and knew what their reaction would be if I was to pull up a seat with them all.

“I meant just the two of us. I thought you'd like to hear what's been happening.”

“Thanks, Eddy, I'd like that. But I don't know if Bertha will —”

“If Bertha will what? I'm not the ogre's wife, ya know. Ya have to eat, after all. Ya might as well do it with yer friend.” Bertha smiled as she held out a tray to me. “Well … go on then.”

“How have you been holding out?” Eddy asked after we tucked ourselves at a table far from the crowd.

I shrugged. “Oh, you know — hunky-dory, peachy-keen, A-okay. And despite Bertha's best efforts, I'm still not a very good cook.” I fiddled with my food while trying to think of the words I needed to say. “I hope you know how sorry I am about all the trouble I've caused you, Eddy. And I hope you believed me when I said I wanted to tell you all about the cave when I first learned about it. That day I went there, I was hoping to figure out how to honour Louise's wish while also letting you know about it. I would have told —”

“Peggy, I know you have a good head on your shoulders. That's all water under the bridge now.”

I thought about what Niko had said about the pole of scorn and was glad Eddy wasn't a Viking and that vengeance wasn't her style.

“Don't you want to hear what's going on at the cave site?” Eddy asked.

“You know I do,” I protested. “It's been on my mind practically non-stop.”

“It's incredible. I've never seen a cave like it. The picto­graphs alone will keep some lucky archaeologist busy for years. Then there are the artifacts littered throughout the cave. You probably didn't see them because it was too dark. And, of course, there's the rock cairn, too.”

“Did you begin excavating it?” I asked anxiously.

“That's what I wanted to talk to you about. It's amazing and yet puzzling, too.”

“What's amazing and puzzling?” I asked impatiently.

“We don't understand what it means yet. And maybe we never will.”

“Are you trying to drive me out of my mind? What's so amazing and puzzling, Eddy?”

She laughed. “Some things never change. Okay, when we removed the pile of rocks we found —” she bent closer to me as if she were telling a secret “— a huge animal skull. We think it's a bear, but we're not certain. We have a zooarchaeologist coming tomorrow to help us identify it.”

“A zooarchaeologist?”

“Yes, an archaeologist who specializes in animal remains and how they relate to human activity.”

“So this person is going to be able to determine what kind of animal it is?”

“Yes, and most likely tell us the exact species, something about how the head was severed from the animal's body, the age of the animal, maybe a cause of death — all sorts of things, I imagine.”

“Maybe the Beothuk worshipped bears. Or maybe they were honouring it after they killed it for its fur,” I said.

“Those are good suggestions for why they might have buried an animal's skull in what was clearly a very sacred place. The cave paintings seem related, too. But I'm glad the zooarchaeologist is coming. She'll be able to help us solve some of this. I'll keep you posted.”

I was totally bummed out and excited at the same time. What I wouldn't give to be at the site the next day. “Thanks, Eddy. I appreciate hearing the news. No one else will even speak to me, let alone give me any information. So I'm glad things between us are good.”

“You're a good kid, Peggy. Impulsive and misguided at times, but I know you care and would always try to do what's best for the protection of the site. And when the others take the time to get to know you, they'll see that, too.”

Then I remembered Louise. “You know, none of this would be going on if it wasn't for Louise. If she hadn't found the cave, who knows if or when it would have been discovered. It's not fair that she's not allowed to be part of this excavation.”

“I know what you mean. And I agree she hasn't been given the recognition she deserves. I'll put a good word in but can't promise anything. After all, my name is mud, too.”

Knowing that Eddy's reputation was marred because of me made my heart ache. “I'm sorry, Eddy. I know that's my fault.”

“No hard feelings. Do you think this is the first time I've been in hot water? Why, I've probably been in more trouble than you ever will.”

Now that seemed hard to believe. “Really? You always know what the right thing is to do.”

“Sure … now, but I was young once … and impulsive, lacked judgment, and got into plenty of trouble. Seems for some of us it's the way we learn.” Eddy smiled and ruffled my hair.

That night I fell into bed and dropped off to sleep without any trouble. Even Bertha and all her noises didn't bother me. It definitely helped hearing about what was going on at the site, but mostly I was happy knowing Eddy and I were still good friends.

I'd been at L'Anse aux Meadows for two weeks. In that time I'd managed to turn the entire archaeology field school against me, botch a lot of meals and jeopardize Bertha's job, get Louise banned from the cave she'd found, and ruin Eddy's good reputation.

I came to Newfoundland thinking I'd be her teaching assistant and take part in an excavation. Instead I'd been banned from getting anywhere near the field school, the students, and the cave site. On top of that I was now Bertha's kitchen elf, allowed out only when every pot was washed and the next meal prepared. The only thing I had to look forward to was news from Eddy about the cave excavation. Beyond that, my only goal was to stay out of further trouble.

At lunchime that day Eddy said, “Peggy, this is Dr. Natasha Soleil. She's the expert in animal remains I told you about.”

“You're a zooarchaeologist, right?” I hoped I'd said it right.

“Yes, I am. And you, I hear, plan to be an archaeologist, too, one day. What area do you think you'll specialize in?” Dr. Soleil asked.

“I want to be an osteologist, like Eddy.”

Eddy smiled. “You might change your mind when you get older. Perhaps you'll find animal bones more to your liking — learning how early people used them for tools and weapons and how they harvested them. I know I've learned a lot from Dr. Soleil already.”

“About the skull you found in the cave?” I asked.

“Yes,” Eddy said. “She not only confirmed it's a bear skull, but more specifically it's a polar bear.”

“And clearly the associated arrowheads show the animal died a violent death,” added Dr. Soleil. “Those arrowheads raise many questions, too.”

“That's right,” Eddy said. “Traditionally, the Beothuk used flint, obsidian, or sometimes bone. But the arrows in this burial are iron. So either this bear was killed by the Norsemen or the Beothuks traded for the iron. Either way, the severed bear skull must have had special significance to have been given a ritual-like burial in a cave full of pictographs.”

That was pretty incredible stuff. “So does it look like they were —” Just then I felt a very annoying tap on my shoulder. When I turned around, I saw Bertha glaring at me.

“How's about ya wrap this little chit-chat up?” Bertha pointed to the line of people behind Eddy and Dr. Soleil waiting to get their lunch.

“Oh, yes. So sorry,” said Eddy. “We'll find time later to fill you in more, Peggy.” They both helped themselves to quiche as I poured their corn chowder. “It looks delicious — bet I've put on five pounds since I arrived.” As Eddy moved along to get cutlery, she winked at me.

For the rest of the lunch hour I was in a daydream. I couldn't remember what I said or even who I served. All I thought about was the polar bear skull. It was strange for sure — and familiar — but why?

“Get yer head out of the clouds, girl. You're sloppin' soup all over the place, ya dropped the ladle into the pot twice, and now we're out of cutlery. Go get some more, ya silly thing.”

Boy, Bertha was awful snippy. It wasn't as if she was super-focused herself. That morning, after we made the quiche, she'd put them in the oven and gone off to make a phone call. I was the one who'd noticed the temperature wasn't even on. When I took them out so I could preheat the oven, Bertha had snapped at me. “But the oven wasn't on — and I know you weren't planning to solar cook them,” I'd snapped back.

“Oh, well, then, fine,” she'd said without so much as a thank-you. Then she'd begun preparing the chowder and gotten distracted — burned the milk and had to start over again. “Mind yer own business, girl. We need more grated cheese, and see if the chocolate cake has thawed. If it has, cut it into squares and put them onto a platter.”

Bertha always acted like a drill sergeant — all grumpy and demanding. But that day she was worse than usual, and on top of that, forgetful. So now, when I was a little distracted, she'd made a supreme case out of it.

“Tomorrow's the last day fer field school. That means tonight's supper has to be extra-special. I was tinking about a shepherd's pie with lots of those lovely mashed potatoes we made together. And then a nice tossed salad, fresh dinner rolls, and some of my famous mushy peas,” Bertha said after everyone was gone and we were cleaning up.

“Mushy peas? I've made those — just cook them to death, and voila, mushy peas.”

Bertha chuckled for the first time that day. “That's not what mushy peas are, silly. First thing, ya don't cook 'em in a pot — ya fry 'em in a pan.”

“Okay, mushy peas and shepherd's pie,” I said. This time the potatoes wouldn't include bits of stuff off the floor. “So what about dessert?”

“Well, I was tinkin' of cheesecake with caramel drizzled over the top, baked until the caramel's a teensy bit crackled. It's my husband's favourite.” Bertha's eyes suddenly welled up as if she were going to cry. “Oh, darn, something's got in me eye. I need a tissue.” She left the kitchen quickly, and when she came back her eyes were red and puffy. “I need a little time to organize things, Princess. Ya run along and find something to do. But be back at three or I'll —”

“I know, I know, you'll clobber me,” I said before she had a chance.

“Right! I'll clobber ya.”

I went back to the tent and flopped down on my bed. Finally, I had time to think about Eddy's news. Something kept niggling at the back of my mind. I reached under my cot, pulled out my sketchpad, and opened it to the pictures I'd drawn the day I'd gone to the cave. I wasn't the artist type, but the sketches were pretty good. I'd forgotten how much detail I'd included — like how I'd drawn the rock cairn from two different angles. I had to let Eddy see these, I thought.

I studied the pictographs carefully. As I examined them, an idea struck me. The large animal standing over the human might just have been a bear. And the people with the pointy chins — could they be Vikings?

I jumped off my bed, grabbed my sketchbook, and took off for the Viking settlement. When I arrived, I went straight to the forge to see Niko. As I waited for him to finish with the visitors, I had to pinch myself to keep from interrupting. When they finally moved on, I practically jumped onto his lap. “Niko, I have something I need to talk with you about. It has to do with the cave Louise found.”

“Well, tell me, girl, what's on yer mind?”

I sat next to him and told him everything Eddy had said about the skull and the arrowheads. Then I opened my sketchbook.

“What have ya there?” he asked.

“These are drawings I made when I was in the cave. They're pictographs on the walls, and this is the rock cairn that was inside.”

“Ya say ‘was inside'? Isn't it there anymore?”

“No, they excavated it. Well, first I knocked it over. But then they removed all the rocks and found an animal skull buried underneath.”

“Ya don't say.”

“Yah, and they even brought in an expert — a zooarchaeologist. She said it was a polar bear skull. What makes it even more interesting are the arrowheads.” I told him about how they were made of iron and how they had pierced the bear's skull in different places and that lots more were found in the cairn burial. “The other day you told me the story of Sigrid the Brave. Didn't you say it was a bear that killed her?”

“I did, indeed.”

“Good, now what kind of bear? Do you know?”

“Indeed I do. It says right in the saga it was a great white bear. I imagine the author was referrin' to a polar bear.”

“And the bear was killed by a stream of arrows shot from the forest, right?” I said.

“Right.”

I pointed to the pictograph with the large animal and two human figures. “So this is what I'm thinking. This pictograph might be of the battle between Sigrid and the polar bear. And if I'm right, it means the Beothuk were there — watching.”

“Very good deductive reasonin'. I tink you're right. They saw the whole thing. I'm sure they were always watchin'. The Norsemen came to the same conclusion when they found the bear's body and realized the arrows were iron-tipped. Since they hadn't traded them, it meant the Beothuk must have entered the settlement at night, taken the leftover slag from the forge, and made their own arrow tips. The Vikings then realized how vulnerable they were and the danger the Beothuk posed to them.”

I sat still, taking in all the facts. This was huge. If I was right — that the pictographs were a record of that day and they were an actual visual record of the event — it confirmed the
Saga of Erik the Red
and the story of Sigrid the Brave. It also meant the skull in the cave was from the bear that killed Sigrid. “Niko, when you spoke to the field school last week, did you tell them about Sigrid?”

“No. They were only interested in hearin' about the
Saga of the Greenlanders
, the one that highlights the adventures of Leif Eriksson. They weren't interested in Thorfinn Karlsefni.”

“That means they know nothing about Sigrid or how she died. They have no idea of the connection of the bear's skull to her and the Norsemen who came here.” I folded up my sketchbook. “I've got to go and find my friend, Eddy. She needs to hear about this. Thanks, Niko.”

“It sounds like you're the one to be tanked, young lady. Ya connected the dots. Let me know how the experts take the news.”

Racing out of the sod house, I headed up the hill toward the field school, excited about telling Eddy what I'd discovered. When I found some of the students working on an excavation pit, I asked them if they'd seen Eddy.

“Look, you're not supposed to be here,” said Taylor.

“But it's really important that I talk to her. Do you know where she is?” I pleaded. No one answered. Then I looked at Maile — she was signalling me by pointing her nose toward the visitor centre. I gave her a tiny nod and took off up the trail.

When I reached the wooden stairs, I took them two at a time. Out of breath, I burst into the centre. There were a few tourists peering at the glass cases containing Viking artifacts from the site. I took a moment to imagine the bear's skull inside a similar glass case and tourists reading about how it was found by two young girls and about the story of Sigrid and — “Get a grip, Peggy,” I said aloud. Right, I had something important to do.

I ran down the hall to the lecture rooms, expecting Eddy to be there. But when I burst through the door I nearly collided with Professor Brant. “What a cow, Maile!” I growled under my breath.

“You!” Professor Brant demanded. “What are you doing here?”

I definitely got the feeling I wasn't welcome.

“Well? What do you want?”

“I … I was just looking for Eddy. Is she here?”

“Do you see her here? And even if she was, you're not to distract her from her work. Didn't I make myself clear to you the other day?”

“Yes. And I wouldn't have come except I've discovered something important about the cave site.” I turned to leave, trying to think where I should look next.

“If you have information, I'm the lead archaeologist around here. You can tell me.”

I didn't want to share with Mister Snotty Pants. He gave me the willies, and besides, I wanted Eddy to be the first to know.

“Well, what is it? I haven't got all day.”

This guy definitely didn't like me. Maybe he'd feel different once he knew how I'd figured out the connection of the bear skull to the Norse girl. It might just be the thing that would make him warm up to me. Then I could get Louise and me back inside the cave.

“I know what the pictographs are about and how they're connected to the bear skull and the death of a Norse girl named Sigrid,” I said boldly.

“It's no secret the Beothuk killed the bear.”

“Yes, but why did they kill it? And why did they paint those pictures on the cave wall? And what do they mean? I know the answers to all those questions.”

“You do, do you? Then you'd better sit down and tell me what you know.”

I sat next to him and told him the story of Sigrid the Brave and her uncle, Thorfinn Karlsefni. I told him everything I'd learned from Niko about the
Saga of Erik the Red
. Then I opened my sketchbook and showed him my drawings. “You see these pictographs here? They're telling about the day Sigrid fought the bear. It shows that the Beothuk tried to stop it from killing her, but they were too late. In the saga it says the Norsemen returned to Greenland soon after her death. The cave, the paintings, the burial of the bear skull — all of it might have been their way of acknowledging their great fortune that the foreigners were gone and they finally had their land back.”

Professor Brant sat quietly, contemplating my story. Then his face broke into a large, creepy smile. He was so pleased that he asked if he could have my sketchbook to show the others.

“Sure. I was going to give it to Eddy, anyway, but I guess I can let you have it for a while,” I told him.

“All right, then. You run along. Bertha must need you in the kitchen,” the professor said in a sort of charming voice that was a little on the sinister side.

I glanced at the clock on the wall. Crap! It was already three-thirty.

As I ran back to the cook tent, I hoped Bertha wasn't going to be too mad. Now that I'd shared my discovery with Professor Brant, perhaps he wouldn't be so mad at me anymore. Maybe Bertha would be pleased, too, and not be so hard on me. In fact, after today I'd bet I was on everyone's good side — or at least would soon be.

When I arrived, I tugged open the door and a black cloud oozed out from the kitchen. “Bertha,” I gasped, coughing. I could see flames shooting out from under a pot on the stove, as if it had boiled over. “Bertha! Fire!” I ran to the sink and filled a container with water. Just as I was about to throw it onto the flames, Bertha came in.