The United States of Vinland: The Landing (The Markland Trilogy) (11 page)

Halla
liked the idea, but was also concerned at going any distance away from the
hall, with only the skraeling. She often felt the woman was lonely and sad
unless she was with Frae or her twin babes. Unlike Frae and Alfvin, who had
some warmth in their relationship, Seta and Ari seemed to hold a colder, more
practical understanding.

This
left Halla with reservations.

She
not only did not trust her, she also felt that if she took her eyes off Seta,
the skraeling woman might run off, even though that would mean leaving her
twins behind.

Yet,
on this day, as they stepped into the second pool, having finished searching
the first and tossing their finds into a willow basket, Seta again spoke of
heading further along the coast. “Should check other pools?”

Halla
was inclined to agree, but she was still uncomfortable at the thought of
wandering off alone with Seta. Thinking on it, she turned and watched as Seta
waded past her, towards a dip in the rocks, where the low tide drained the pool
and ran through a shallow channel, giving the trapped fish and other sea
creatures their last chance of freedom. The skraeling was searching the area
again, which seemed odd, as they had already gone over it.

The
Norsewoman went to take a step forward, curious at what Seta was doing, but got
distracted as she heard a splash and felt something shoot through the water and
past one of her bare feet.

She
turned to see a fish, one that had somehow escaped discovery, swim into a
deeper basin behind her. The fish was not big, but long enough to offer good
eating. With Seta forgotten, Halla turned and stepped down onto a submerged
ledge, preparing to try to catch it.

The
fish was aware of her and tried to slip into a long crack in the fractured
rocks of the pool.

Halla
took another step, one that landed on a misleading slope. She reached out as
she lost her balance, managing to control her fall, her heart pounding as she
slumped into the chilly water that rose up to cover her belly.

Now
steady, she turned back to see if Seta witnessed her mishap. As she did, she
saw the woman standing only two paces behind her, with legs spread, her face in
an ugly grimace, as she hefted up a big rock.

Halla’s
heart stopped and her jaw dropped as she froze. She lay still for a moment,
half lost in the water. The skraeling stepped forward with her murderous rock,
eyes squeezed tight, and she lifted the heavy thing, water running off it like
blood.

Seta
took a half step and then began to turn, but Halla had already pushed herself
off the slimy rocks and into the deepest part of pool, putting the depths
between them.

Seta
turned again with another half step, this one away from Halla, and then dropped
the rock in the low lip of the channel where a trickle of water still ran. A
small sea creature lay in the way. The rock landed with a crunch, shattering
the shell of the thumbnail-sized critter, and plugged the outflow by damming
it.

Halla
let go of her breath, only now realising she had been holding it all this time.

Seta
stood, straightened her back and then turned to see Halla, up to her neck in
the pool. With widening brown eyes, she asked, “You fall?”

Halla
tried to find her footing, the fish forgotten. “Yes, I was chasing a fish.”

“Fish
faster?”

Halla
could not help but smile.

Seta
went on, pointing to her rock. “We block and make pool bigger. Catch more fish,
even fast ones.”

Before
Halla could answer, the woman began wading towards her. She then stood at the
edge of the deeper pool and reached out a hand. Seta smiled, a rare thing, and
said, “Halla, I help.”

The
Norsewoman reached across and took the thrall’s hand.

Eskil
and Alfvin looked back as they strode up the gentle slope of a scrub-covered
shoreline hill. They checked on the boat, yet again, to make sure it lay
beached and secure. To have the precious craft stolen away by a rising tide would
not only be an indignity, but akin to a crime for a Norseman.

On
this particular trip, Eskil and Alfvin went deeper into the fjord than before.
They passed the shoreline where they had last seen Thoromr, and journeyed on a
fair distance, putting three islands between them and Godsland. The cost of
this longer trip was that they certainly would not be going back to the hall
tonight. For now though, with a half an afternoon’s light ahead of them, under
scattered clouds, they wanted to see what this vale held before they returned
to the safety of a small, nearby island to camp for the night.

They
came to check the area because they noticed good signs from afar. The steeper
heights beyond the shoreline hills, looked as though they nursed a broad and
long vale, hopefully one with a wider range of woodlands. Eskil also hoped the
land might be better protected from the ravages of the sea, not solely by the
bulk of distant Godsland, but also by the other islands.

They
had passed the vale on the boat once before, but did not have time to land.
Now, before camping overnight, the two men had very definite goals of exploring
what lay ahead, looking for good farmland, timber and marshes with potential
for bog iron.

The
gravel beach hosted several streams that ran from amongst the low hills. A
wider flow, large enough to be called a river by those with a romantic heart,
was also farther up the shore.

But
the beach was at their backs. Now they headed into the hills, intent on
exploring.

They
crossed a few low hills covered in grasses, clovers and small stubborn shrubs,
and they headed for an entry into the vale. They had only glimpsed the wide
valley from afar, since much of its lower detail was lost behind the shore-side
hills and the curving terrain as it turned and headed deeper into Markland’s
interior.

But
soon the land would be unveiled.

Without
a word, both men stopped when they crested the tallest of the shoreline hills.
The vale straight ahead, struck by the occasional shaft of sunlight, opened
wide, with a broad plain as its base. In the foreground, the plain spread, cut
in two by the river’s meandering flow. The reed-edged riverbank hosted thickets
of trees and shrubs, and clumps of woodlands also dotted the bottom of the vale
before thickly climbing the gently rising sides.

The
variety of colours and shapes told of a broad range of trees. Eskil could
already recognise pine and fir, and of course more birch and willow. But there
were also other shapes and colours that looked new to him. Compared to Godsland,
the trees were not just better, bigger and healthier, but also more plentiful.

The
heights cupping the vale were of steeper slopes and starker bluffs.

The
timber held great promise, but what lay closer to hand excited Alfvin more, as
he looked to a series of marshes nestled between the smaller hills upon which
they stood.

Alfvin
said, “We will need to check here for bog iron, but I would say there should be
some.”

Eskil
nodded and looked back to the depths of the vale that stretched off well into
the distant haze. Where they stood was not that high up, but it gave him enough
clearance to see the glimmer of a lake ahead that seemed to feed the river.
“And wood, pasture and water. This is a good sight.”

Alfvin
gave a satisfied smile.

They
climbed down the hill, heading forward. As they did, they also searched for any
sign the vale was already home to skraelings or other Norse they were yet to
encounter.

The
land seemed empty.

Eskil
took the opportunity to ask, “How are you doing now that you have settled amongst
us?”

Alfvin
glanced at Eskil as they continued on, veering towards a ridge that would keep
their worn boots dry as they crossed a stretch of bogs, quiet water and reeds.
A rising buzz told them the area was also home to a good number of insects.

With
half a smile, the former Lakelander said, “Thrainn was a hard man and easy to
anger. He was furious at what befell our ships, particularly after what seemed
like such a good start after leaving Iceland. That first afternoon on the beach
was...” his words trailed off, while his walking slowed and he examined the
ground around them. Something caught his eye. He turned towards it and
carefully stepped down into the wetter soil. He knelt and looked at the dirt,
putting a hand to it.

“Have
you found something?”

Alfvin
nodded. “I think we have.”

“Is
it good for bog iron?”

“Perhaps.
I would say this looks as promising as the works at Lakeland.”

Eskil
lifted his gaze, looking about at the maze of bogs that sat cradled between the
low hills behind the shoreline. “It certainly spreads farther than the bogs at
Lakeland.”

Alfvin
smiled. “Yes, more extensive, and also a good distance away. Getting bog iron
from land like this is a slow process, as you know, but even so, this looks
worth trying.” He gave a laugh. “We all might get axes yet.”

“And
knives and nails, plus a hundred other things we need to make a go of it here.”

Alfvin
chuckled. “Is Gudrid working on a list?”

Eskil
laughed. “She has not said anything, but I am sure she is.”

Alfvin
stood and stepped back up to firmer land. “Eskil, I am grateful that Ari and I
were able to join you and your people. Thrainn was a furious man who was angry
with the gods, blaming them for the loss of his wife and the rest of his
family. What we did that first night does not make me proud, even if it was
needed to survive.”

“What
really happened?”

Alfvin
met his gaze, thoughtful for a moment. Finally, he gave a nod and said, “Let us
continue on to the vale ahead while the light is good. I will tell you as we
go, but you must not speak of this until I can talk to Ari and see if he is
also willing to admit to the truth, for it is also his shame. You must also
understand that the two of us had little choice in matters as we were
outnumbered by Thrainn and his kin.”

Eskil
said, “An alliance of blood is hard to go against.”

“The
big brute made us swear we would never speak of it, and I do not take breaking
an oath lightly. But such a thing, built on vile deeds and a lie is, to my
thinking, already broken.”

Eskil
agreed as they again began to trek through the low hills, heading for the vale.

“Thrainn
gathered us together, the six men and two women, but both Herdis and Katla were
barely alive.”

“Six
men?”

“Leif
survived.”

Eskil
thought about it. “Yes, but Thrainn said he was in a bad way and died.”

Alfvin
shook his head. “Leif dragged most of us from the surf. In truth he saved us.”

“By
the gods!”

“It
was Thrainn who was in a bad way, overcome by grief for his missing wife, and
slipping into a mad rage.”

“Go
on with your tale.”

“Our
two women had swallowed half the sea. We knew that, as the afternoon started to
dim, we needed to find shelter for them. That was all Ari and I cared about,
the lives of our wives faltering in front of us. Thrainn, at that point, had
spent most of his time searching the surf for his own wife, while chopping at
waves with his axe and cursing the gods. He was wild and oblivious. Even his
son and nephew begged him to stop and tried to drag him from the breaking
surf.”

“What
happened?”

“Leif
had climbed a path that led off the cove’s beach and up the hillside, following
a stream. I think he initially hoped to simply get a better vantage point, but
he found an unexpected scene.”

“Lakeland?”

“Yes.
As the sun began to set, he came rushing down, saying he had found a hall, one
that looked occupied. He had not gone in, but instead, he came back so we could
carry the women up and then make our approach. He knew if we did not get the
women to some kind of shelter quickly that, as the heat of the day faded, they
would also pass on.”

“Leif
was a wise man.”

Alfvin
nodded, troubled by what he was revealing, continued as he said, “His death was
a crime, but now that I started the tale, please let me finish it.”

Eskil
nodded, the two walking on through the low hills, skirting yet more marshes.

“Leif
told us all to pick up the women and follow him up the path. But Thrainn would
not. He remained standing, amidst the foam of the breakers, cursing the sea.

“Leif
went to him and grabbed him, trying to get him to focus, but the big brute spun
around and swung his axe.”

Eskil
was horrified.

“Leif
dodged the swing, throwing himself back and ending up in the surf. Thrainn went
after him, roaring like an animal. We ran from the women’s sides to stop him,
arriving just as he strode over, grabbed Leif’s head by the hair, and raised
his axe.” Alfvin shook his head with the memory.

Eskil
was dumbfounded by the murderous turn of events.

“We
got there in time, all of us grabbing at Thrainn’s arms, trying to stay his
weapon...even Thoromr and Trion. Pinned as he was, he eventually gathered his
senses. Finally, he let go of Leif, who got up, leaving us all to stand in the
tensest situation I have ever witnessed.

“Thrainn
slowly relaxed. We could feel his muscles calm and hear his breathing slow. The
wild look in his eyes faded, yet we still held him. Soon Leif, now recovered,
told us in a hoarse voice to let him go.

“We
stepped back from Thrainn, watching. He fell to his knees in the surf and began
to mourn.

“Leif
called to us as the sun continued to set. He told us we had to get moving or
the women would die. We knew he was right, so we went to them. Meanwhile, Leif
strode back into the surf and dropped to his knees, face-to-face with Thrainn.

“He
told him it was a tragedy that the sea had stolen both of their wives away and
not even left their bodies behind for them to mourn. But, he said, they needed
to get the others to shelter or all of them would die.”

Eskil
was mesmerised by the telling of the tale that rang of truth. There had been
too much death at the end of the crossing that had touched both halls–and
neither place gently.

Alfvin
continued, “Ari and I were eager to get our wives to the hall, as we could see
both of them, barely alive, were weakening. With the sky colouring with sunset,
the shadows deepening and the warmth seeping out of the day, we knew it was
urgent.”

“Leif
left Thrainn kneeling in the surf and came to help, calling Trion and Thoromr
to assist. Between the five of us, we carried the women up the steep trail and
off the beach.”

Eskil
asked, “What of Thrainn?”

Alfvin
shook his head. “Leif told us to leave him since he would eventually follow. He
said we needed to worry about the women.

“The
path climbed the hillside out of the cove, the beach closed off by bluffs at
each end. The trail followed a stream that stepped down in a series of
waterfalls until it found the sea. We climbed it, knowing we needed to find a
better place for the women, but were mindful that path was not an animal trail,
instead worn by boots and feet. The more we gathered our senses and focussed on
our plight, as we carried our women, the more we steadied our advance and moved
with care, for we knew a great unknown awaited us in the hall ahead.

“Eventually
the path rose into a higher vale – a small one – where we saw woods along one
side of a lake, and a cliff face on the other side of the water, with a grassy
bank along its foot, amidst a scattering of trees. It ran away, inland from us,
but it was hard to see any detail as the sun had almost set, leaving most of the
vale lost to shadow. Before long, we spied the silhouette of the small hall at
the base of the cliff between a few thickets of birch. In the deepening gloom,
we advanced.

“The
women were both unconscious as we closed on the hall. We were desperate. Even
more, the wind swung about and we smelled smoke from the hall’s fire. As dusk
settled in, we saw the first flickers of firelight through gaps in the hall’s
doorway.”

Eskil
slowed his steps as Alfvin’s telling began to intensify, the two of them coming
to the last of the low hills around the bogs. He wanted to hear the end of the
tale before they had to deal with whatever lay beyond.

Alfvin
stopped and looked to him. “We put the women down in one of the thickets,
side-by-side, to share each other's warmth. Leaving them, we then crept further
ahead. That is when Thrainn joined us, silently catching up as we crossed the
clear ground before the hall. We were glad of it as the sight of the big man
and his axe gave us more confidence.

“We
could hear voices in the hall, that of women and a man. They were not speaking
Norse. Leif looked to us and gave a reassuring nod. He whispered that we would
try to befriend them.

“Thrainn
stepped forward, no longer lost or cowed. He tapped Thoromr and Trion on the
shoulder when he walked up to face Leif. He said we should merely take the
hall. His words, hissed and crisp, were powered by his seething fury.

“Leif
told him we were ill-equipped and in no state to fight. He said we needed help,
not enemies.”

Eskil
asked, “What did Thrainn do?”

“He
shook his axe – the only weapon of note we had with us, aside from a few blades
– and then, cursing Leif, turned and charged the hall. His kin, Thoromr and
Trion, joined him. There was nothing for the rest of us to do but follow.”

Eskil
shook his head, picturing the tension and ruin of such a bleak day.