by M J Porter
Northman watched in fascination as the men used a series of wedges delicately tapped into the sides of the logs to split them into only three or four long planks of wood. One of the men, seeing his questioning look, stood from his labour and wondered over to where he sat atop his horse.
“You must be Ealdorman Leofwine’s son. You look just like him.” Northman nodded and smiled at the same time. He was more often than not recognised, especially in the Mercian lands, where his father had been a constant presence.
“And who might this tall fellow beside you be?”
“This is Horic’s son, Olaf.” The man’s face split even wider in a toothy grin,
“Aye, you’ve the look of that old rogue as well. Have you come to inspect the shipbuilding? Your father was only here one day last week. But come, if you want to see how we work, you’ll have to hop down from your mighty steed and come and see.”
Pleased with the invitation, Olaf and Northman were both on their feet immediately, as a young lad came forward to lead the horses away.
“I’m Halfdan by the way, and that’s my smallest son, Bjorn. He’s good with the animals. Far more than I am. I prefer the fish and the slap of the waves against a well-made keel. I think he’ll not follow in my footsteps. He has no joy in the building of the ships, and the little blighter vomits whenever I put him on a ship. I think a productive piece of land will have to be found for him.”
Northman watched the young lad with interest for a long moment, until his curiosity got the better of him and he was away with the ship builder, wandering through the selection of half finished, or barely begun vessels. Everywhere there was the smell of freshly chopped wood, mixed with an unpleasant smell of hot animal hair. He wrinkled his nose briefly until he remembered who he was.
Halfdan had been busily working on a half-finished ship, its keel and the stern and aft clear to see, but little in between. Beside the carcass of the ship, men, boys and women laboured as they worked in the chill air, many casting aside all cloaks as they sweated despite the cold air.
Northman ran his hands along the smooth surface of the wood, while Halfdan picked up his axe.
“Come, I’ll show you how to split the logs precisely.”
Without pausing for breath, he picked up some small wooden wedges, almost pegs, and began selecting places on the nearby log, mounted on what looked like three half finished tables, where he could gently tap them into place. Intrigued Northman stepped ever closer, trying to see what it was that made the man pick those spots.
“It’s just something you learn when you work with wood,” he finally offered by way of an explanation when Northman found himself scratching his head in puzzlement.
“The wood has certain soft spots where you know you can hammer home a wedge and know that the wood will split straight. I can’t explain it any better than that, and nor can the rest of the men. It’s just something you learn along with your craft as a youngster.”
Satisfied that the wedges were in place, Halfdan handed both Northman and Olaf a small hammer each.
“Go and stand down there,” Halfdan pointed to the far end of the log, “and you, Olaf, you stand at the other end. I’ll stay here in the middle, and when I say hammer, we’ll all hammer together and get ourselves a nice straight plank of wood.”
Feeling a little nervous, Northman tapped away hesitantly on the wedge when he was commanded to do so by Halfdan, but the older man laughed at his feeble efforts.
“You need to use all your strength boy or it’ll never work. The time for delicacy is over.”
And so having flung aside his cloak, Northman did as he was advised, hammering roughly on the wedges that were near to him. Some of the other men, who’d been assisting Halfdan before they’d arrived, stood quietly by, muttering amongst themselves and offering the stray word of encouragement. And then a sharp crack as the wood gave all the way along its length on one side.
“Good lads, now, the other side as well.”
They repeated their actions and in a much shorter span of time, another sharp crack echoed around the shipyard and Northman gave a little cry of delight to see the wood almost pop itself free from the long trunk.
Halfdan was beaming with joy at their success,
“Well, if either of you ever decides that staying on the land is no fun, I’ll happily have you in the shipyard. You listen well, and you’re strong, and now this plank of wood can be used in this ship here. But now, you’d best be off and let the rest of us get back to work. We’ve still another two or three planks to prize from this little beauty.”
The man ran his hands covetously down the length of the now disturbed log, and Northman took a moment to appreciate the craftsmanship that went into building the beautiful ships, even the cutting of the planks of wood was a delicate matter.
“My thanks for showing us how you keep the planks so straight.”
“My pleasure, and Northman, your father was speaking very highly of you last week, and I think he has the right of it. You’re a pleasant and beguiling young man, for all that you must spend time with Eadric,” he offered in an undertone.
Northman smiled tightly at the unexpected praise and clasped the arm of the man in friendship. This wasn’t the first time he’d experienced a situation where people unfriendly towards Eadric took the time and effort to mention his father to him. It reinforced what his mother had told him when he first learned of his fosterage. He might well be in the home of Eadric, but everywhere he went, others had an eye out for his interests and well-being.
Walking back towards where Eadric was busily arguing with the master ship builder, Northman listened to what Eadric was actually saying.
“But it’s a waste. These trees take decades to grow and look, all you do is extract three of four planks of wood from them. Surely you could double that amount if you used a different method of splitting the wood.”
The mastership builder’s face was almost puce with anger as he glanced from Eadric to his brother.
“But my Lords, the strength of the planks is vital to the strength of the ship, and the way we split the wood takes advantage of the wood's natural properties. The trees were massive when they stood on the ground, supporting a weight even I can hardly comprehend. It’s imperative that we find that strength.”
“But it costs more, and we must ensure that the king doesn’t spend all the people's tax heedlessly.”
“My Lord, forgive me, but it’s not heedlessly. Watch the men who split the wood. They’re skilled and grizzled sea captains, men who have their own ships or who command ships. They understand the way the sea will use the wood, and the way the wood will use the sea. That sort of skill is a hard-won thing, not a waste at all. My Lord Leofwine was pleased with our work.”
He ended on a plaintive tone as if despairing of a way to make Eadric understand and Northman stepped forwards.
“Foster father,” he began, ignoring Olaf’s in-drawn breath at his timidity, and Eadric’s anger at the mention of Leofwine “come, let Halfdan show you the skill of splitting the trunks. It’s fascinating.”
Eadric fixed him with a hard stare that he ignored, purposefully. He felt no loyalty to Eadric, but he wanted the ship builders to be rewarded for their pains and care. There was little point in building ships that would not be sea-worthy and Eadric needed to understand that sometimes, money just had to be spent even when he begrudged it. He’d not be creaming the top of this latest tax, no matter how much he wanted to.
Opening his mouth to speak, and then shutting it again, Eadric jumped free from his horse, his feelings difficult to read from his posture.
“Come, boy, show me this Halfdan. If I appreciate his skills, then I can report back to the king that the building proceeds well and is not wasteful.” As he spoke, he cast a dark look towards the master ship builder, and Northman suppressed a sigh. All threats and implied threats, would Eadric never learn that men thrived on respect, not fear? Compliment on a job well done and they were more likely
to work on it even more diligently next time. Bitch and moan and they were liable to skimp and produce shoddy workmanship, for what was the point in making it perfect if it wasn’t to be recognised as such?
Halfdan had been watching the exchange so that when Northman arrived and made his request, he was ready and prepared.
“Now my Lord Eadric, as I was showing the boys, the trunk has to be split in a certain way, but a master woodworker will just ‘know’ where the divisions should be made, and will work to tease the wood free from the log. Now, if you’ll allow me just a few moments, I’ll finish placing these small wedges where the wood is at its weakest, and will give the strongest planks of wood.”
Eadric, for once, stood attentively, watching the man through narrowed eyes. He shuffled a little impatiently, but Northman and Halfdan ignored him, while the master-shipman spoke to Brihtric about what exactly Halfdan was doing. Brihtric was as intrigued as Northman had been and Northman felt himself easing a little towards him. Yes, he was jealous that he might get to command a ship or ships, but really, was the king going to allow a twelve-year-old boy the honour? Not likely, unless he was his son. And that was not the case.
Halfdan, with courteousness, finally showed Eadric and his brother to the same positions that Northman and Olaf had occupied the first time round, and with the same instructions they set to work relieving the log of its plank of wood.
Eadric was even more hesitant than Northman had been, and he stepped forwards and mentioned it, in a quiet voice that no others could hear, not looking at Eadric as he did so. It was better not to make eye contact with him.
He prided himself on the tact he’d learnt in Eadric’s household, not that it didn’t chaff at him. Why should a twelve-year-old have to be so discreet? He imagined that in any other home he’d have been allowed to be as grumpy and self-obsessed as he wanted to be. But not here.
His eyes narrowing at the commands from Northman, Eadric did at the least, follow his instructions, and soon a loud crack rang out, and the wood came loose on one side. Eadric smirked at his success in creating such a straight edge to the plank of wood, running his hands along the smooth wood.
As he was doing so, Halfdan copied his exercise with the wedges on the other side of the log, and this time, Eadric didn't flinch away from the force needed to prize the plank loose. Another loud crack and the wood sprang free from its home, and two men stepped forwards to take the plank away. Eadric watched it on its way towards a ship that was even less built than the one beside them.
“But there is much waste,” he said, pointing at the discarded elements of the once mighty tree.
“They’re not wasted. Those parts can be used for other bits of the ship. We can make smaller planks of wood with them, which will be fitted to less vital parts of the ships. And the branches of the tree are used too, sometimes as small staves at the points of the ship where they join, and other times to make oars. It all depends on the size of the tree.”
Still not convinced Eadric smacked the remainders of the wood where they rested on stands along the busy shipyard.
“And this is the way that the Raiders build their ships?”
“Oh yes, my Lord. My skills have been passed onto me from forebears who were original settlers, back in Halfdan’s day, when he made his treaty with Alfred. This is the traditional way and the only way to build these types of ships.” Halfdan was talking excitedly now, pointing to the ships in their various stages of construction.
“See, this ship here,” and he pointed to an almost finished vessel, being caulked by a selection of youths about Northman’s age, “has been fitted with a false bottom. It stops the ships being damaged so much when they’re run up the beach. And this one here, this one has an extra high mast so that it can make use of even the slightest breeze. These are all tricks that the Raiders know off and make use off. We’ll not be beaten in a test of our knowledge and skills.”
Evidently impressed by Halfdan’s knowledge, Eadric indicated that he should continue to show him around the yard. Northman noted the look that passed between Halfdan and the master ship builder at Eadric’s far more pleasant demeanour towards Halfdan and allowed them to walk on before turning to him.
He extended his hand to the irate man,
“I’m Northman, son of Leofwine of the Hwicce, and foster son to Eadric.”
“I know who you are,” the man growled in an unfriendly manner, but Northman pressed on.
“My apologies for my foster father’s annoyance. The king’s very keen for this part of his defensive strategy to work. He’s also aware that he mustn’t tax the people too much.”
“I know all that you young upstart, but that doesn’t mean that Ealdorman Eadric can come stomping in here with his demands when he doesn't know anything about shipbuilding.” The man was so angry he could barely string his words together in a coherent manner.
“I entirely agree. You’re doing good work here, and if I have the opportunity, I’ll ensure my father and the king are made aware. Will you work all winter?”
The man growled then and finally tore his eyes away from the retreating figures of Eadric, Brihtric and Halfdan.
“We must if the king is to have his ships, but it’ll be hard work to have them ready and seaworthy by the Easter festival next year. I could do with more men and more supplies, and more cover for the workers.”
Northman had already noted that they worked outside, with only a small wooden shed to shield them from the worst of the weather.
“Can you commission another barn?” he asked, wondering if that would solve the problem, and how many ships could be kept inside it.
“Well yes, but it’d take the men away from their work, and that'll push the schedule even further back. Typically we build four, maybe five ships a year here. That’s all, not twenty-five.”
Nodding in sympathy, Northman turned to watch Eadric. He was more animated now, enjoying learning about shipbuilding, and for once, not thinking of the coin he’d spent, or his king had spent, or that he’d have to spend to complete the project. Sometimes he knew that Eadric forgot the simple fact that it was the king’s money he collected from the men of the shires, not his own.
“I’ll try to put in a good word with Eadric for you. Didn’t you mention this to my father last week?”
“No, the weather was still clear, and I confess I didn’t. But now that winter has cast its first few cold mornings, the workers have complained, and I could curse myself for a fool for not considering it sooner.”
“If I can, I’ll get word to him then. There must be some men on the farms who’d be able to help now that the harvest is collected. That way you wouldn’t lose your ship builders.”
The ship builder looked at Northman with interest,
“You’re a wise one for your lack of years.”
“I learnt from a true master, Wulfstan, my father’s commended man and oldest advisor.”
The man chuckled at his slightly rueful tone, “Old people are full of lessons that must be learned and sometimes they forget what it is to be young. Still, they’re wise, and most of their lessons are valuable in later life.”
“I’m starting to realise that,” Northman countered. “Your ships are truly magnificent beasts. Are they to be crowned with a ships head?”
“Oh yes, I have a real wood sculptor who’s working on the mastheads. He’s a strange fellow but come. I’ll let you meet him.”
Walking across the raised wooden dock back towards the covered barn, the ship builder took Northman to a corner of the room where a fire burnt brightly in a covered fire pit, the heat almost unbearable. But the man sitting beside the fire, accompanied by a young lad and a woman, was uncaring of the heat. Sweat beaded his face and dripped from his nose onto the floor as he worked and chipped away at the wood, a selection of tools littered untidily around his feet. Wood chippings surrounded him and the smell of sawdust hung in the air, probably masking the smell emanating from the man, and he chanted as he worked
.
“Northman this is Erik. Don’t speak to him, he won’t respond. But he is our carver. See what he’s made so far.”
Three finished mastheads leant against the side of the barn, far higher than Northman’s head. They looked so life-like, the open mouth of the dragon with its vicious teeth almost glinting for all that they hadn’t yet been decorated. Beside it was another fiery head of a beast that Northman didn’t recognise and next to it was a bird head, raven-like with a sharply hooked beak. Northman shivered with dread when he saw it. It was more nightmarish than the dragon.
“Designed to give everyone nightmares, lad, I wouldn’t worry about it,” the shipbuilder offered.
Beside him, Olaf was studying the mastheads with enthusiasm, while his hound had his nose close to where the carver worked. Erik looked up briefly, his eyes slightly glazed, eyeing the dog with interest.
“What’s he working on now?” Northman asked, watching the exchange between his hound and the strange man with amusement.
‘Gods alone know,” the shipbuilder responded, and then grimaced at his open admission to the old faith. “It’s good to keep your peace with the old Gods on the seas. I think they hold more sway than the one true God,’ he offered by way of an explanation. Northman nodded in understanding. It was common to find people following a strange mixture of the old and the new God and with the time he’d spent with Horic and his own shipmen, he knew both religions to have benefits to those who worked in certain trades. Unlike his father, he never let a man’s religion concern him. That was for every man, woman and child to decide. Provided they could make their peace with their God, that was all right with Northman.
He stood for some time, just watching the carver at work before Olaf nudged him and reminded him that Eadric was probably waiting for them.
Making small talk with the master-shipman, he walked back to his horse and mounted him absent-mindedly. He was too intrigued by everything he saw about him, and Olaf was as awe-struck until Eadric reappeared. He walked briskly, already dismissing the shipyard from his thoughts, without speaking to his men, he turned his horse back towards the roadway, and they were off.