Vinland the Good

by Henry Treece

  She smiled up at him sadly then shook her head. ‘That is just a dream, husband,’ she said. ‘We shall never see Norway now. I was talking like a foolish young girl when I thought we might. We are at the edge of the world, and this is our end.’

  Then Karlsefni went to get the Vikings into position. He had decided that it would be best not to keep all the men inside the stockade but to send out a party of the seasoned fighters to delay the Skraeling’s a while and to knock some of the heart out of them. The spot he chose to defend was a narrow stretch of land with an inlet of the lake on one side and a dense grove of trees on the other. This time the men took their red shields, to signify war, and ran forward baying like hounds to strike fear into the hearts of the Skraeling’s.

  Thorhall ran beside Karlsefni and Bjarni at the front. He said as they ran, ‘The sooner we get this over, the sooner we can sit down and enjoy a good dinner.’

  Bjarni said, ‘I have been craving for a dish of pig-meat and onions all the morning. When I get back to Iceland, one of these days, I will start a trade in onions if I can get them to grow. There is no finer fruit than the onion.’

  Thorhall said, ‘Onions are not a fruit. You must be mad.’ They stopped then to argue about this, but one of the other men, a fierce fighter called Thorbrand, called out, ‘Get on with you both, Karlsefni’s bull cannot hold them back for ever.’

  He was right. The first rank of Skraeling’s paused a while before the bellowing black beast, but then, pushed from behind, they overwhelmed him and, though he did great work that day, soon there was little left of him but horns and tattered hide.

  Then, as the Vikings took up their places, the Skraeling’s halted and stared at them as though wondering how best to attack them. Thorhall yelled, ‘Come on, little monkeys, we cannot wait for ever.’

  At the front of the Skraeling army stood a tall and handsome young chieftain, his long black hair set off with ribbons and his arms with bands of red copper. Thorhall pulled a light axe from his belt and said, ‘Red Beard guide my aim!’ Then he threw the axe at the chieftain, but it fell just a few inches short and stuck into the ground between the Skraeling’s feet.

  The youth stared at it for an instant, then bent and picked it up, looking at it curiously. Other young men gathered round and felt its edge and its shaft, nodding and laughing. One of them, much like the chieftain in features, tried to take it from him; but, with a smile, the young warrior pretended to strike at his companion with the axe. Its balance was so different from what he had been used to, the blade plunged forward and struck the other Skraeling who fell dead straightway. At this, a great hissing went up from the host, and all the laughter stopped. The young chieftain gave a loud cry, then turned and flung the axe far away into the lake.

  The Vikings saw the splash it made, and Bjarni said, ‘Well, you’ve lost your axe now, brother.’

  Karlsefni said, ‘Close your ranks and lock your shields, or we shall lose more than an axe very soon.’

  The Skraeling’s came on like a winter’s wave. But their first ranks were so angry that they outstripped the others and the Greenlanders were able to push them back with their red shields until they could cut them down. It fell to Thorhall to kill the young chieftain. He said, ‘That is in payment for my best axe that you threw away.’

  Sharp work was done both with sword and axe; and the spear did not go without its victims. Soon the narrow space between lake and wood was heaped high with Skraeling’s, yet they came on.

  Bjarni said, ‘I still say that the onion is a fruit.’ He was fighting three Skraeling’s at the time. No one answered him, they had other things to do. Thorbrand gave a good account of himself and held at least six savages at bay, until one of them took careful aim from close range and flung a small flint axe at him. It stuck firmly into Thorbrand’s head and he said to Karlsefni, ‘I think I will take a rest, master. Put someone else in my place.’ Then he fell dead.

  When the Vikings saw this, they gave ground. And now the Skraeling’s began to use a fearful weapon on them; it was a form of catapult made by wrapping a round stone in a deer’s stomach and by slinging it at the end of a long pole. These missiles set up a deep whirring in the air and when they landed did great damage. Now so many of them flew through the air that the Vikings backed away from them. Karlsefni shouted out, ‘Stand firm, lads, or they will force us into the lake.’ Thorhall, who was hobbling from a rock that had bounded against his leg, said, ‘That’s all very well, master, but these little stones they keep throwing are an annoyance. Why can’t they come up and fight like men?’

  The Vikings tried to stand but another hail of missiles flung them back, and now it seemed that with one more push the Skraeling’s would have them in the water unable to defend themselves.

  Bjarni said sorrowfully, ‘I must say farewell to my dish of onions. And I was looking forward to them.’

  But just at that moment a strange thing happened. Running from the dense grove of trees, her hair streaming and her heavy skirts hitched up, came Freydis. She was screaming wordlessly and ripping at her gown like a baresark. At first the Skraeling’s gazed at her bewildered, but she raced past them to where Thorbrand lay dead with the flint axe in his head and snatched up the sword he had dropped. Five young braves ran at her then, laughing and levelling their spears. But Freydis let out a high-pitched shriek and went to meet the tallest of them. With her first slash she took off the head of his spear. With her second, she left him headless. Then, swinging, she did the same to the next man. And each time she squealed and slapped the reeking blade on her bare arm, as though counting her victims.

  Only one other man came at her. He was older than the rest and his hair had grey streaks in it. His axe was already poised for the cast when she put Thorbrand’s blade right through his body, then raising her bare foot, kicked him off the point. He fell back four paces before falling into the coarse grasses.

  And at this the other Skraeling’s turned and fled. Some of them even dropped their weapons. For a while, Freydis ran after them, but Karlsefni raced to stop her and put his arms about her. She struggled with him for a space, then leaned against him weeping, the heavy sword forgotten.

  Thorhall said stark-faced to Bjarni, ‘Well, I never liked the lass much till now, but from this day I will bow my head before her when she passes by. Old Eirik Red-hand could not have done better than his daughter did.’

  Karlsefni came back with Freydis. He led her before the men and said, ‘This is a woman. She has done evil things, but today she has wiped away the stains on her name. I, for one, will honour her from this time. Take her back to the stockade, Thorhall, and see that she is cared for. We will push on against the Skraeling’s.’

  But Thorhall said, ‘Turn round, Karlsefni, and see what we can see. There are no Skraeling’s to fight. They have run down to their boats and are pushing off.’

  Bjarni wiped his sword, then put his foot on it and straightened the long blade. He said, ‘And with my onions, I will have a little mint. Only a touch, mark you, just to set off the flavour.’

  In the settlement, Gudrid tended to Freydis, who should have been resting because of the baby she was to have. Karlsefni was outside now, talking to all the assembled folk.

  He said, ‘Well, a bull started this fight and a woman finished it. It seems that the best we men can do is to set the ships on course back for Greenland. My mind is made up. This is the end of our settlement in Vinland. No man could ever live in safety and freedom among such savages as these Skraeling’s. We will go home.’

  24. The Long Way Back

  It was a long way back, and not the best time of the year. They took what timber they could, and loaded the furs on top of it. They did not bother with vines for now the very name of them was awful to the ear. In many ways it was a sad home-coming, and most of the sheep and cattle had to be slaughtered as they tacked northwards before a treacherous wind.

  At one place they put in for fresh water and, seeing a family of Skraeling’s res
ting, fell on them and butchered them without mercy, for now they looked on these folk as nothing but wild beasts.

  Then winter drove the voyagers ashore, on to a headland where deer grazed and the hunting was easy. But even here, misfortune struck, for Thorhall, boasting that he could find a good wind by snapping his fingers, turned his prow out of the haven and was swept off into the empty sea, towards the east, before even he could get the helm hard round.

  They saw him go, always scudding away smaller and smaller, and they even heard his loud voice crying out to Thor for help, long after the fogs had curled round his ship and had hidden it from view.

  Bjarni watched his old mate go and said, ‘Fare well, voyager. May the Irish kings come down to greet thee bearing gold.’

  No one spoke of Thorhall after that, but his loss was a great weight on them all. He was a bad man but there were worse.

  Some days later Karlsefni went up along the coast seeking a fresh stream. He put ashore in a small boat and the men were just filling their water-skins when a very small Skraeling jumped up from the reeds by the creek and shot a very small arrow at them. It struck a man called Oddi in the groin. For a moment he looked at this little wound, then laughed and said, ‘You chase that Skraeling and don’t fear for me. I have enough fat on me to withstand such a little arrow.’ Then he pulled the shaft out, and fell forward dead. His comrades went after the Skraeling, but found no trace of him.

  After that the ice came and the men had to get back as fast as they could to winter quarters. And it was no pleasant winter, because, by now, many of the younger women began to start quarrels among the men, telling spiteful tales and carrying gossip.

  Bjarni came to Karlsefni and said, ‘Shipmaster, far be it from me to tell you your trade, but it is my opinion that the sooner we can set sail again, the better. I know that the winds are best in spring, but if we wait as long as that, many who are now alive will be dead, from one thing or another. I say that we should set course as soon as the year turns.’

  Karlsefni nodded. ‘We will do that,’ he said. ‘It is very risky, but it would be even more risky to stay here.’

  So they waited for the first good wind that would swing them round towards Greenland. And when it came, they set off again. They put in at Slabland for water and there found a party of very strange Skraeling’s, much smaller than all the others, and very dark in the skin. These folk ran away swiftly when the Vikings approached, but left behind them two children, very thin and miserable-looking. Karlsefni had them baptized and handed them over to the young women to look after, so that they should have something to keep their minds away from gossip and malice.

  And when they put off the next time, towards Greenland, all went well until they were out of sight of land, and then the wind dropped completely and left them wallowing round in a dead sea.

  By now the men were too weary to row, and the sails hung limply without a breath of breeze in them. Day after day they sat helplessly, sometimes coming close enough to talk to one another, sometimes drifting slowly apart, out of earshot, almost out of sight.

  It was at this time that Bjarni ran into trouble. His ship was an old one and near the end of its life. Most of the timbers below the water-line were worm-riddled; but it could have got back to Greenland if they had not been so delayed.

  At noon one day Bjarni’s longship began to sink slowly in the green water. Men could not bale fast enough to keep the level down. So, while there was still time, the folk aboard drew lots to see who should go in the small tow-boat, since there was not room enough for them all.

  Bjarni had the good luck to gain for himself a place in the boat, so he took it without question, for the lots had been drawn fairly. But just as he was about to give the order to draw away from the longship, in case they were drawn down by the whirlpool it would make on sinking, a young Icelander still aboard came to the shield-rail and shouted down, ‘Hey, Bjarni, when you persuaded me to leave my father’s farm and come with you to Vinland, you swore that I would be taken care of. Is this how you keep your word?’

  Bjarni answered, ‘We drew lots fairly. I can see no other way. What do you suggest?’

  The youth cried out, ‘I suggest we change places.’

  Bjarni said, ‘Well, if you are so determined to live, I will not stand in your way, lad. Throw down the rope and I’ll take your place.’

  The young man jumped into the tow-boat and it pulled away from the doomed ship. Then a water-current seemed to catch it and sweep it towards the empty south, as though a hand guided it from beneath the green water.

  Bjarni in the stricken longship watched it go, then said to those about him, ‘Well, friends, at least they won’t have to bother about rowing. They will be in Iceland before they know it, and I hope that old Thorhall is there to greet them.’

  The longship began to groan and shudder beneath his feet, almost throwing him off balance, but he still held on to the mast and said, ‘There is no need for long faces, brothers. We have not had a bad life. At least we have seen more than those layabeds in Greenland and Iceland. And, when you think of it, which of us would ever be content again in a quiet farmstead? Nay, we should always be dreaming of Vinland. Then, one day, we should try to reach our dream once more - and so the winter, or the Skraeling’s, or the sea would have us in the end. Better to go now, with no more argument. Keep your heavy boots and jackets on, so as to make a quick job of it. We cannot hope to swim as far as the other ships, even if we can swim; and I, for one, cannot. To tell the truth, I have always been afraid of deep water!’

  While they were laughing at this, the longship suddenly cried out as though its timbers had a human voice. Then, weighted with water, it flung its carved prow high into the air and slid down tail first, setting up a great swirl. The folk went with it in silence and not one came up to the top again. From a distance, Karlsefni watched this helplessly, then said, ‘Christ have mercy on them, and may He let us die as bravely when our time comes.’

  He had hardly spoken when a great wind got up from the west and shrieked in their sail-tops. It was as though the loss of Bjarni’s longship was a payment for that wind.

  So all the scattered ships swung round before the wind and headed for Greenland, and it was not many days before they sailed up Eiriksfjord again.

  25. The Last Winter

  The months had gone by. Leif Eiriksson sat with Thorgils by the fire, only the two of them in the hall at Brattahlid. Leif said, ‘They did not stay with us long, Gudrid and Karlsefni. I should have grown fond of that little boy, Snorri. He has the makings of a seafarer in him.’

  Thorgils said, ‘His father will see that the boy becomes a good solid merchant in Bergen. There will be no seafaring for Snorri. But who would risk the empty seas with the sort of cargo they have taken back with them - furs, timber, ivory? They need not lift a finger to work again for the rest of their lives. Vinland has made them rich.’

  Leif nodded sadly. ‘It has made me very poor,’ he said. ‘It has taken all my family from me, one way and another. Yet it has given you to me, I suppose. I must be thankful.’

  Thorgils said, ‘No man gets through this life without suffering. We must learn to make the best of it.’

  Leif thought a while, then said, ‘Sometimes I regret banishing Freydis and her husband and baby to the other side of Greenland. Did I do right, my son?’

  Thorgils smiled and answered, ‘Who am I to say? She was certainly a brave woman, but there were such evil rumours about her…. Yes, I think you did right. But let us not sit indoors over the fire like old men. Let us go out into the daylight while there is still a little of it left before more snow comes.’

  They went off together on to the hillside above the fjord, and there Leif saw a place where the careless thralls had knocked down a part of the stone wall round the farm boundary and had not set it up again.

  He said, ‘There, you see, a farmer always has work to do. He can never trust his servants to look after things properly. Come, give a han
d and we will put this wall up again.’

  Thorgils tried to stop him, but the old man was already bending and heaving at a great round boulder that had rolled out of position. ‘Here, let me do that, Leif,’ said Thorgils, slopping forward.

  But he was too late. Suddenly, as Leif strained at the weight, it seemed that his ears were filled with the rushing of a high wind, and in the midst of this there was a sound like a ship’s rope snapping in his head. He fell face downwards on to the hard ground and could not get up again.

  When he woke, he was lying in the wall-bed at Brattahlid and Thorgils was bending over him, holding a cup of warm spiced wine near his lips. Leif saw that the fire had been built up and that the dark sky pressed close against the window-holes.

  He said, ‘I dreamed there was a woman standing over me, but whether it was your mother or mine I cannot tell. Was there a woman here?’

  Thorgils shook his head. ‘I saw no woman,’ he said. ‘Only the shadows thrown by the firelight.’

  Leif tried to sip the wine, but it ran down Ms chin. He said, ‘My mother always said that a strange terror would come down on us from the north. You know many things, my son. Do you know what that terror is?’

  Thorgils said slowly, ‘It will become very cold. The ice-cap will move down towards us and smother the land. It will freeze the sea. The seals will come south in fear of it. They will come in great hordes to escape the white winter of the north.’ Leif began to laugh then and said, ‘Why that is no terror. It will mean that we only have to walk into the stackyard to get meat for our dinner. That is no terror, son.’

  Thorgils rose and went to the hall door and, opening it a little way, gazed out in the moonlight over the snow-covered hillside. All at once the sheep in the byre began to bleat as though they were afraid of something, and as Thorgils stared he saw a number of dark shapes moving about, bent double, in the shadow of the stockade. They ran in silence and were like no men he had ever seen before. Quietly he closed the thick door and drew the bars across it at top and bottom. Then he went back to his chair near the fire and sat looking at Leif.