They Came On Viking Ships (12 page)

Freydis was rich now. Erik’s big house and the main fields would go to Leif. Freydis inherited two smaller farms, with the allegiance of the men who worked them, as well as the farm Erik had given her on her marriage. Erik’s wealth of silver was divided between Leif, Thorvard and Freydis.

Hekja watched Freydis at her weaving the day after the funeral. Freydis had never shed a tear since the news had come of Erik’s death, not that Hekja had seen.

Freydis’ face was still expressionless. She said nothing all morning until it was time to order Gudrun to serve the meal—fish stewed in water and thickened with reindeer moss, for now at winter’s end all of the meat was gone. The household was spooning up the tasteless stew from the big pot when Leif bent his head under the door lintel. No Norse door was ever tall enough to walk through with one’s head held high—it was easier to slice off an enemy’s head if he had to duck to come in the door.

But today Leif was no enemy. He took off his cloak, shook off the snowflakes and came in to stand by the fire.

Freydis didn’t offer him fish—Erik’s, or rather Leif’s, household had many times as many thralls and beasts as
hers, and was better supplied. While her household ate dried fish, Leif’s still dined on meat.

‘What is it?’ Freydis asked her brother shortly.

Leif took a breath. ‘The Vinland expedition—it is impossible now. We must send runners to the other households to let them know.’

Freydis didn’t even look up from her fish. ‘Why?’

Leif stared. ‘Surely you must see that! I must take Father’s responsibilities here. I can’t go wandering off beyond the horizon.’

‘Why not?’ said Freydis coolly. ‘That is what Father did.’

‘Father was outlawed for three years and had his lands forfeited for unlawful killing. He had no choice but to leave Iceland. But I have my duty here.’

Freydis put her bowl aside. ‘Then we will go without you.’

Leif stared at her. ‘A woman, lead an expedition?’

‘Why not?’

‘You know why not! How will you get men to follow a woman? You have never been to Vinland! How will you even find it?’

Freydis laughed. ‘You forget, brother. You’ve been boasting of your voyage for two years! You gave the poet every detail, so many days to the south, so many to the west. In fact I am sure we can do better than you, and sail straight to Vinland, without your troublesome adventures on the way.’

‘Freydis…’ Leif looked at Thorvard. ‘You are her husband! Say something! Tell her it’s impossible.’

Freydis didn’t give her husband time to reply. ‘The ship is mine,’ she said shortly. ‘And the farm men are
mine as well. Whether my husband chooses to come or not, I am going.’

‘I am coming,’ said Thorvard, just a bit too softly. He held Leif’s eyes as though in challenge.

Freydis’ gaze was triumphant. ‘We shall see how many choose to follow Erik’s daughter, instead of staying mouldering at home with his son.’

‘But…’ began Leif. He stopped and shook his head. ‘There is no arguing with you. A proper wife would…’ He stopped at the expression on Thorvard’s face.

Thorvard’s fingers inched towards his axe. ‘You may be her brother, Leif Eriksson, but I will have no man insult my wife and live.’

Leif turned on his heel, grabbed his cloak and left.

It seemed to Hekja that one day they lived in twilight, then all of a sudden the days were so bright they hardly needed the lamps at all. Gudrun laughed at her surprise. ‘It’s the ice giants,’ she explained, ‘they sit up in the ice mountains and watch the winter sun. They are so big they hide it from everybody else. But as soon as the sun begins to rise higher in the sky for spring they sit down again. And bump! The days are longer, hey?’

Hekja longed for spring to come properly. By now the salt fish was so hard it needed soaking for three days. Most of the household had coughs from months of breathing smoke and fish-oil fumes, and her voice was hoarse as well. The house and every person in it stank of sweat, sheep and fish.

The snow melted in the warmer days, dripping down the smoke hole then freezing again into icicles overnight. More snow fell; this time it looked like silvery puffs that the fresh sunlight turned to magic, then that snow melted too.

Finally the patches of mud amongst the drifts of snow turned green, then the green all turned to flowers. Butterflies hovered just out of reach when Snarf tried to
snap them. His fur was falling out in big thick handfuls, and finally Gudrun made good her threat to spin some into thread. It looked quite fine, but smelt so much like wet dog that Freydis refused to weave it.

Thorvard and the thralls carried the cattle out onto the green grass—the cows were too weak to stand by now, much less walk, for there had been little hay and no grain at all for the last month of winter. The pigs staggered out as well and began turning the fields to mud. Only the sheep were still steady on their feet. They too had gone short of food, but at least they had been warm inside the hall.

Spring was busy and hungry too, despite the first leaves of sorrel and rose root shoots and onion tops. But after the first reindeer hunt there was fresh meat, even though it was winter tough and stringy with not a speck of fat. There was fresh fish to eat as well. The hens were well fed on fish guts and reindeer heart and soon began to lay as the days grew longer. A whale was sighted out past the fiord, too, so even if there was no grain or milk or cheese there was more whale meat than anybody wanted. Hekja could no longer feel Snarf’s ribs through his fur, or her own underneath her dress.

She was glad of the good food, for now that the snows had partly cleared Freydis sent Hekja running, and she needed all the energy she could get. She ran to the farms of the men who had promised to join Freydis’ expedition, to tell them of her plans and bring back details of what men and ships they each would bring.

But each time, Hekja came back with a refusal. Freydis took each message calmly, but with each setback
her face grew stonier than before. Without Leif’s leadership the men had changed their minds.

Hekja was sent to Finnbogi’s farm last, as it was further away than the others, up north where the snows kept their grip for longer. He and his brother relied more on hunting seals than on farming, and it had been to sell their sealskins that Finnbogi had accompanied Leif on the voyage when Hekja had been taken.

It took Hekja four days to run to Finnbogi’s. Each night when she stopped to rest she saw him in her dreams, his face above her mother, his laughter and the blood. Finnbogi had made no sign he ever remembered chasing Hekja or killing her mother. Hekja was just another thrall now, among so many. At least she hoped so.

Finally Hekja came to the fiord with the black rock slope and the glacier above it, white and cold, just as Thorvard had described. There was the farm too, a big main house with a few thin cows and long lines where sealskins flapped in the wind. Down below Finnbogi’s ship rode the milky fiord water. Even this early in the season it was evident they had been fishing or sailing north to seal. Whatever else Finnbogi was, it was evident he was an excellent seaman.

A young thrall opened the door, no older than Hekja, but thinner faced. It seemed Finnbogi’s household didn’t eat as well in the winter months as Freydis’. She stared at Hekja in astonishment.

‘Who are you?’ she cried.

‘I am Freydis’ runner,’ said Hekja, as calmly as she could. She kept wondering every moment if Finnbogi would appear, ‘With a message for your master.’

Another thrall came to the door. She was a few years older than the first, but still young. Hekja swallowed her contempt. She had learnt enough from Freydis to know that older, experienced thralls were more valuable in a good household. It seemed that Finnbogi’s thralls weren’t chosen for their skill at making cheese. The young thrall also stared at Hekja, as though she had never seen a female runner.

Now another woman pushed the thrall away. She was middle-aged, with thin grey hair plastered to her scalp, a sharp face and narrow lips. This must be Finnbogi’s wife, Hekja realised, the mistress of the house, though she wore none of the fine brooches or bracelets like those of the other mistresses she’d met.

Hekja gave her message again. Finnbogi’s wife shrugged her bony shoulders. ‘He is in the fletching shed.
²⁸
‘Gunnhild! Go fetch the master!’

Hekja waited for the woman to ask her in, and offer food and drink. But she just stood there staring, till Hekja heard Finnbogi’s footsteps from the shed.

Finnbogi’s hands were bloody. It is just seal blood from the fletching shed, Hekja told herself. But she still shivered.

‘Well?’ demanded Finnbogi abruptly.

‘My mistress Freydis has sent a message,’ recited Hekja, as she had so many other times. ‘She intends to sail when the first crops are sown, after the next new moon. She wants to know if you will still join her.’

‘Why not?’ asked Finnbogi coolly. ‘I have sailed with Leif before.’

Hekja flushed. ‘Master Leif will not be going. Master Erik died this winter and Master Leif must look after the farms. But he has said his sister can use the long houses he built in Vinland, and he gives all his claim to the land to her.’

Finnbogi gave a bark of laughter. ‘I see! And I bet none of the others will follow a woman. Neither will I!’

Hekja felt relief course through her. She hated to bring more bad news to Freydis, but at least she need never see this man again. She bent her head politely. ‘I will tell my mistress…’ she began.

‘Not so fast! Tell her I will come as her partner. We each bring thirty men, no more. All profit will be split equally, half for her, half for me. Go tell your mistress that and come back if she agrees.’

He turned his back on her and walked back to the fletching shed. Hekja waited a moment in case his wife invited her in to rest and have a meal, as every other household had done.

But his wife just stared at Finnbogi’s departing back. ‘There had better be a good profit,’ she muttered to herself. ‘Better than a life of seal porridge and whale blubber.’ She turned her back and slammed the door.

Hekja jogged out of the courtyard, trying to ignore her hunger. She had eaten all the food Gudrun had packed her as all the other households had given her food for her return. But at least she hadn’t had to linger at Finnbogi’s.

The scream of a bird made her look up. Hekja grinned to herself as she clambered carefully down the fiord cliffs. It was spring! She knew where there’d be food to find now.

Sure enough, there were gulls’ eggs on the first ledge she found. Hekja gathered them in her skirt, and climbed away from the furious parent birds before she sucked one from the shell. Had it only been a year ago she had eaten eggs at home? Homesickness bit deeper suddenly. Freydis could wait just a little longer for her answer, she decided.

She made a driftwood fire, lighting it with the iron and flint she carried with her these days, far enough from Finnbogi’s so no one would see the smoke, and baked the rest of the eggs in the coals. She wished Snarf was with her, to eat them too, just as he had before. But Snarf was hunting with Thorvard.

Hekja peeled the eggs one by one, and nibbled them as she gazed out to sea. Home was there, across the water. Or was it? What was left of everything she knew? Perhaps even the girls were gone, to husbands further up the coast, the cows serving as their dowries, or even to other islands. Maybe even Tikka’s hut was empty.

Hekja shut her eyes, and let Ma’s face float before her. But when she tried to think of Bran, Snorri’s face was there instead.

Hekja opened her eyes, annoyed. Snorri had a golden voice and his songs were…good, Hekja admitted. But that was no reason for him to slide into her dreams. Besides, it was time for her to get going.

As Hekja ran down the hill, Freydis was sorting out the best cattle to take to Vinland. They had been put to the bull late this year so they would not calve till the expedition landed. Freydis had found tenants for her other farms, and they would care for the cattle that were left.

Freydis stood silently as Hekja repeated Finnbogi’s message. Then she said abruptly, ‘Go and eat, and sleep. Hikki can take my message back.’

‘Please, mistress,’ said Hekja. ‘What will the message be?’

For a moment Hekja thought Freydis might rebuke her. But then she said, ‘Hikki can tell him yes. Tell Finnbogi I agree.’

And so the preparations for the voyage went ahead. There would only be two ships now, but at least Freydis had her expedition.

There were the fields to plough, the crops to sow, though the best seed was kept for Vinland. Finally the seas were clear enough of ice to sail. It was time to go.

It had been arranged that Finnbogi and his brother would set sail from their farm, the day after the full moon. They would meet Freydis at Brattahlid and both ships would sail on from there.

Full moon came and went and the moon grew thin again. But there was no sign of Finnbogi. Finally, Freydis ordered that the ship be loaded. They would wait till old Thrand Egilsson, who was the most experienced sailor in the Brattahlid district, declared the weather would hold for the next few days. Then they would sail, whether Finnbogi came or not.

There was nothing for Hekja to pack. She had the dress she wore, her rags from home, her boots, her cloak and that was all. But the morning they were to leave, Freydis beckoned from her curtained room at the end of the long house. She handed Hekja a pile of clothing. ‘Here,’ she said.

‘Should I put them in your packs?’ asked Hekja, thinking that Freydis wanted her to store them in the waterproof sealskins for her.

‘No, they’re for you. Two dresses,’ said Freydis. ‘New ones. There’s no point giving you old dresses of mine—I’m
twice your size. There are aprons too, and boots, and another cloak.’ She handed Hekja another bundle, smaller than the first. ‘This is for you too. It’s a tunic like the one Hikki wears, when he runs. People would have been shocked if you wore it here. But in Vinland it will be useful when you are scouting out the land.’

‘Thank you,’ said Hekja.

Freydis hesitated. ‘The other women coming with us are not thralls,’ she added. ‘But you’ll be passing on my orders to them. It will be easier for you to have authority if you’re dressed well. I’d also like you to have these.’

Freydis handed Hekja a hairbrush. It was backed with walrus ivory and carefully carved. Hekja’s eyes widened at its beauty. Then Freydis undid one of the brooches on her apron. Hekja stared. The brooch was gold.

‘For me?’

Freydis nodded. ‘Partly because a brooch like this indicates your status. But also…’ Again Freydis hesitated. ‘Because I trust you,’ she said at last. ‘And I think in this new land I will need someone I can trust. Someone who’ll do what I say unconditionally, even though I’m a woman.’ Freydis paused again, as though trying to find the words. ‘We are founding a new land in Vinland. Always with new lands there are more men than women, at least at first. There’ll come a time when a man asks to buy you from me, so you can be freed to marry. But a runner can’t run when she’s pregnant. I ask that you do not commit to any man for three years. After that, you will be free.’

Hekja looked at the ground, and then at Freydis. ‘What if I don’t want a husband?’

Freydis blinked at that. ‘Why ever not?’ She smiled one of her rare true smiles. ‘It’s what free women do.’

‘Some might say that women don’t lead expeditions,’ said Hekja. ‘I…I saw what Norsemen do to women in my village. I want none of that.’

‘Ah,’ said Freydis quietly. And then she said, ‘It is not always like that with men and women. Do you think I would put up with a man who treated me like that?’

Hekja shook her head. ‘No.’

‘You’ll have many offers down in Vinland. Do well by me and I’ll make sure you have silver or cows or land enough to take to your marriage to ensure respect.’

‘But if I don’t want a husband?’ persisted Hekja. ‘Can I still be free?’

‘Free to do what?’ Freydis was genuinely perplexed.

Hekja was silent—thinking of her home. Then she said, ‘Just be free.’

Freydis thought a while. It was clear she had never thought what a freed woman thrall might do, except to marry. ‘Very well,’ Freydis said at last. ‘If you marry I’ll give you land and cows or silver. If you do not, you can have them anyway. But I expect good service and total loyalty.’ She walked swiftly from the room and out of the long house without waiting for a reply.

So on her last day in Greenland, Hekja was finally dressed like a true Greenland woman as she left the house, in her new wool dress and boots, her apron and her scarf, and the gold brooch. But she would never truly look like she belonged, she thought, not with her dark hair and eyes. She had grown in the past year, but still only came to Freydis’ shoulder.

It was hard for Hekja to say goodbye to Gudrun. Gudrun was too old and crippled to be of use in Vinland,
but she had given Hekja more kindness than anyone had shown since she had left her own village.

‘Take care, dear girl,’ whispered Gudrun as Hekja hugged her in the doorway. Watch out for those fierce unipeds.
²⁹

Hekja left Gudrun gazing from the doorway as she followed the men down the hill to the waiting ship by the pier. It was a large ship, but it looked so small to be venturing out onto the wide sea.

The towboats were already loaded, with sacks of seed and tools. Now the cows and bull were led onto the ship too, and the hens in their boxes. The animals had to come in the big ship, as they would need water during the voyage and quieting when things got rough.

Most of the folk of Brattahlid had come to see them off. Leif’s daughter was there, talking earnestly with Snorri the Skald. Hekja wondered if she was coming too, but Snorri boarded the ship alone. He hardly glanced at Hekja, even in her new dress, and when he did it was as though he deliberately forced his glance away.

Hekja and Snarf were among the last to board, still standing with Freydis and Thorvard on the hill above the pier when Leif arrived. He was alone, except for Hikki and Erik’s dog, Bright Eyes, who kept close to Leif’s side now.

The dogs sniffed each other, almost as though they exchanged news, thought Hekja, amused. Bright Eyes had had a litter of pups in early spring, and Hekja wondered if they were Snarf’s. Suddenly she saw Hikki coming down the hill, his rolled sleeping bag and cloak in his arms. She hadn’t been able to speak to him since
Yule, but no one had told her that any of Leif’s household were coming to Vinland too.

It seemed that even if Leif were not coming, his runner was, a gift from Leif the Lucky.

‘Thank you,’ Freydis was saying to her brother.

Leif nodded. ‘I will keep an eye on your farms of course,’ he said.

‘So you have promised,’ said Freydis coolly. Brother and sister looked at each other for a moment. Then Freydis said, ‘Try to understand. You spent your youth a-Viking. Am I to be suffocated in the house and cheese room, with nothing but my loom to occupy me?’

‘It is what women do,’ said Leif uncomfortably.

Freydis smiled. ‘Our father was outcast from Norway and from Iceland for doing what he wanted, not what people thought he should. We are both his children.’

Leif said nothing. He just hugged her roughly and slapped Thorvard on the back. Then he marched back up the hill, without staying to watch them leave.

Freydis boarded the ship now, with Thorvard after her. Suddenly Snarf stared at the boat, as though he had just realised Hekja expected him to get on board too, and live on fish again instead of meat.

‘Arf,’ he said unwillingly. But he followed her as she walked across the plank, and felt the rocking of the ship again under her feet.

There were three other dogs on board. Snarf ignored them. This was his second summer and he had reached his full great height, taller than any other dog around.

Hekja had thought the ship she had arrived in was crowded, but every inch here was crammed, so the ship rode low in the water. She wedged herself onto a sack of
oats next to Hikki, then shifted again so there was room for Snarf too. ‘I didn’t know you were coming!’ she said. ‘Did you ask to come?’

Hikki shook his head. ‘I didn’t know myself till this morning. I think Leif had only just decided.’

‘Do you mind?’ Hikki shook his head again. He seemed preoccupied. ‘There are more than thirty men on board,’ he said.

Hekja looked around. She could count now, but had to concentrate to get to thirty.

‘The agreement was thirty men each,’ said Hikki quietly. ‘Freydis has broken it.’

Freydis’ men were all young and strong, and carried weapons. About half had brought their women. Hekja realised she and Hikki were the only thralls. This was a company of warriors, as well as farmers and hunters. ‘Perhaps Freydis doesn’t trust Finnbogi,’ she whispered. ‘Besides, if he doesn’t come we will need more than thirty men.’

Hikki shrugged. ‘Maybe she wants to make sure that she is Mistress of Vinland and has the men to back it up. I’m glad,’ he added. ‘It is good to be on the winning side.’

The oarsmen pushed at their oars. The sail flapped and filled, the cargo boats with their high-piled load of crates and barrels bobbed behind the ship, and suddenly they were away. Snarf rested his paws on Hekja’s shoulders as they watched the land vanish behind them. The others were chattering, but Hikki and Hekja were silent.

Then Hekja said, ‘I hated this land. But I am almost sorry to leave it. It’s beautiful in its way.’

Hikki shrugged. He was not impressed by beauty. ‘Land is just something a runner passes through to get to his destination. Leif has promised me land and my freedom, after a year’s work with his sister,’ he added. ‘Perhaps Freydis will grant you freedom as well.’

‘Perhaps,’ said Hekja noncommittally.

‘It would be worth working hard to please your mistress,’ Hikki added meaningfully. ‘I can take a wife when I am freed.’

Hekja said nothing. She looked around the ship. Her glance settled on Freydis, sitting by the prow, her face glowing as it hadn’t done since their last time at sea, then on Snorri with his butter hair, sitting at Freydis’ side, as though he was storing every second as inspiration to make up a song.

Hekja turned back to Hikki. ‘But first,’ she said, ‘we have to survive.’