They Came On Viking Ships

by Jackie French

  ‘Then doubtless you will make cheese in Greenland. It sounds a fine, green place,’ said Hikki enthusiastically. ‘There must be mountains of grass all year round, to have a name like that.’

  ‘And the father of your master and my mistress, you said he is a chief there?’

  Hikki nodded. ‘His name is Erik. They call him Erik the Red. A great man, by all accounts. A hero. My master Leif Eriksson is a hero too,’ he added proudly. ‘Leif made a voyage to yet another new land, Vinland, just last year. That is where he traded for the fine furs he took to Norway this summer, to trade for other things.’

  ‘What things?’ asked Hekja. She picked up one of the dried fish and began to pull it apart, nibbling some of it and feeding the rest to Snarf with her fingers.

  ‘Flour for bread and malt for beer, iron, linen, wax and tin, weapons, cooking pots, glass beads for the women, a good horse to ride and one to pull the plough. Many things,’ said Hikki. He looked at Snarf, as the big dog chewed the second fish. ‘That is a fine hound,’ he added.

  ‘He is mine,’ said Hekja proudly.

  Hikki shook his head. ‘You are a thrall, a slave. He is Freydis’ dog now.’ He gave a shrug. ‘A good dog like him is worth more than a thrall, though not as much as a runner like me.’

  ‘He is mine!’ flared Hekja.

  Hikki looked at her consideringly. ‘You will learn,’ he said at last. ‘Now, you must study the Norse words, as your mistress ordered.’

  For a moment Hekja wanted to argue. She didn’t want to learn the strange new words. She didn’t want Hikki’s company either.

  But at least he wasn’t a Viking. And perhaps he could tell her something that might be useful. Somehow…somehow, she had to get away.

  * * *

  10 King Harald wasn’t yet called the Fair Hair, but this is the name he would be known by.

  11 By 999, when this is set, most Norse people were Christian.

  12 Vikings were great traders, and thralls were one of the most commonly traded items, captured in all the countries where Vikings fought. Thralls could be freed by their owners, in return for special service, or their freedom could be bought by others.

  Chapter 13

  STORM

  The day dragged on. Hikki droned more words. Some she knew, and some she didn’t, but she repeated them anyway, even the ones she knew, just to pass the time. The wind lashed at the boat and the salt spray splattered them. The bottom of the boat where Snarf slept slowly became a puddle.

  There was no land, though Hekja searched the skyline. The world was featureless, grey, and grey and more grey. How could the Vikings know which way to go in a world like this? Maybe, thought Hekja, they would sail like this forever, and the world would never change. She was too numb now to even care.

  Someone handed Hekja a dipper and told her to bail out the water. The ship was heavy loaded, and already rode low among the waves. Hekja dipped, and threw, and dipped, and Snarf rested his face on her lap as though to say, ‘I’d help you if I could.’

  There was dried fish to eat that night. Hekja had eaten dried fish all her life, either smoked by the fire or just hung in the wind outdoors till it was too hard and dry to rot, but in the village dried fish was soaked in milk or water to soften it. Here on the ship the fish were so hard you had to gnaw at them. Hekja shredded some of hers, and took the bones out for Snarf to eat. Some of the Vikings also ate long strips of hard dried meat. But they didn’t offer it to Hekja, or Hikki either.

  ‘I am a slave,’ she thought. ‘I am a slave.’ The words kept pounding through her. She knew what slaves were, but had never really thought about it before. No matter what I do, how well I make the butter or how well I guard the cows, I will be worthless, a slave.

  She and Snarf slept among the bundles. The Vikings had sleeping bags with fur inside, but no one offered Hekja any covering at all. It was dawn when she woke, the sun a red gleam on the horizon. It rose slowly in the sky till it hung high above the ship. Even through the cloud it seemed hotter than the sun over the great mountain. And there was no shade. The sail flapped and people yelled and the sea lashed and muttered over the side.

  The sun sank again. The Vikings crawled into their sleeping bags once more, two to each sack, except the men who watched the sail. Even Hikki had a cloak to wrap himself in.

  Hekja held Snarf to her, for comfort as well as warmth. All around them were the noises of the ship, the snores of many people, water lapping against the hull, the creak of the sail and someone farting in their sleep.

  Then a voice came from the darkness. ‘Here.’

  It was Freydis. She threw a couple of rough, cured cowskins down to Hekja, then made her way unerringly through the bundles, back to her sleeping bag and husband at the front of the boat.

  The skins smelt like home. Hekja wrapped one about her shoulders, and the other about her legs and Snarf, and they curled up together in the damp of the ship.

  Three more days passed, each one like the one before. Only the colours changed, a sea and sky of grey or green or blue. The swaying ship didn’t seem so strange now. Hekja knew its smells and movements. She even knew how to relieve herself over the swaying rail, though unlike the Vikings she waited for darkness.

  Sometimes the other ships sailed close enough for the Vikings to yell at each other across the sea, cheery insults that Hekja couldn’t understand. But mostly each ship was a floating world of its own.

  The sun glared on the waves. The sky was blue now, bluer than it had ever been on shore, so bright it seemed to shatter on the sea. Hekja sat with Hikki and pretended to learn more words. She knew all he had to teach her now, but at least it was something to do.

  Suddenly Freydis’ husband, Thorvard, gave a yell, and pointed high up in the sky.

  Hekja followed his gaze. It was a bird.

  Someone cheered, and clapped Thorvard on the back. Freydis strode down from her spot on the prow, and they began to confer, gazing at the sky and sea.

  Hekja looked back at Hikki. ‘What is all the fuss? It’s just a bird.’

  ‘It’s a land bird,’ said Hikki, looking superior. ‘It means that we are close to land.’

  ‘Greenland?’

  Hikki shook his head. ‘Iceland.’

  Hekja shivered. The name sounded cold and strange. ‘Are we going to land there? Kill the people like the Vikings did back home?’

  ‘Of course not!’ Hikki looked scornful. ‘The Greenlanders came from Iceland. Remember? I told you so! Why would they attack their friends? No, we won’t land on Iceland. The cargo boats are full already. We shall keep sailing to Brattahlid.’

  Hekja nodded. What did it matter? If there were Vikings in Iceland she couldn’t escape there. But Greenland…it sounded different. Hikki had said it was an empty land. There would be places for her and Snarf to hide…and then…Hekja bit her lip. What then?

  Snarf smelt it first. He lifted his nose and whined.

  ‘What is it?’ Hekja bent towards him. Snarf whined again.

  Now the Vikings seemed to sense it too. Thorvard yelled an order, and waved his arm at the sail, sagging now the wind had dropped. Freydis strode about the ship, gesturing to the store piles. Men began to tighten ropes.

  ‘I said pull in the sail!’ bellowed Thorvard. ‘Are none of you fools listening to me?’

  ‘What is it?’ cried Hekja.

  Hikki shook his head. He mostly sat with Hekja these days. Hekja supposed it made him feel important, having someone who knew less than him. Suddenly the sail flopped down behind them. The ship stopped its onward pace, and rolled a little in the waves.

  Hekja gazed around. ‘Why are we stopping? There is no land here!’

  One of the Vikings heard her. He grinned. ‘Storm coming!’

  Thorvard clambered to the rear of the boat, and hailed the ship behind.

  ‘Leif!’ he shouted. ‘What do you think? A bad one?’

  The ship behind came closer. ‘Better lighten the ship!’ yelled Leif. He grinned.
‘You can throw my sister overboard for a start!’

  ‘I heard that, brother mine!’ Freydis shouted at him. ‘Lighten your own ship, if you want. This ship has sailors on it, not sit-at-homes, frightened of a tiny wind!’

  ‘This storm will have even more breath than you!’ yelled Leif cheerfully. ‘See you at home, dear sister! I’ll bet you a nice new shawl we beat you back!’

  ‘Keep your shawls to warm your feet!’ shouted Freydis.

  Leif grinned in return, then turned and bellowed orders to his crew.

  The first gust hit. The ship lurched wildly, one side dipping deep into the water, so the waves sloshed in. Hikki yelled, then grabbed the side.

  The next gust was even stronger. Then the wind bit, and didn’t let them go.

  Hekja had thought the boat shuddered before. Now it lashed from side to side. Snarf whined, and crawled into the middle of the ship. Hekja followed, till they were wedged between two bundles, but they slithered too, and dragged her with them.

  Finally she grabbed one of the struts and held it with one hand, her knuckles white, while the other arm was stretched around Snarf. Now the rain came like a curtain, each drop so cold and sharp it bit into her skin. It was impossible to see across the ship in all the rain and spray. Where Hikki was she neither knew nor cared. Hekja held Snarf close, his warmth the only familiar thing in the world of noise and fury.

  Up, up, up…Hekja had thought the sea was flat, but the ship seemed to climb a great mountain. Then down the other side, the wave crashing white around them. The ship shuddered further down into the trough, then up again…

  The world had gone insane. How could waves climb as high as that? It was like mountains had risen all across the sea.

  Someone screeched in Hekja’s ear. ‘Bail!’

  Hekja nodded. She held Snarf by the scruff of the neck in one hand and used a water jar to scoop out the icy water with the other. The ship was low in the water, even when the sea was calm. Now it seemed they were only inches from the water.

  The ship lurched down again. A giant wave crashed behind them. Its foam lashed across the ship, carrying Snarf with it. The big dog tried frantically to paddle. Hekja caught one glimpse of his terrified face, then he was gone.

  ‘No!’ Hekja dived after him, reaching through the foam. Yes…yes…her fingers touched his fur. Suddenly she had him, but it was too late. The water closed over her, and spat her out over the rail of the ship.

  Down, down, down…the world was cold and water, green and grey and white. Almost instinctively she kept hold of Snarf’s fur. Was this what it was like to drown, she wondered. Had her brothers felt this cold confusion before they died? Then suddenly her mind took over. No, she wouldn’t die! She wouldn’t let Snarf die, either! Hekja pushed downwards with her free arm and legs, forcing her body upwards, so it dragged Snarf up too. Was he still alive, wondered Hekja desperately. He was so limp, so still…

  Suddenly her face met air. She gulped it in, but only for a moment. Then she was lost again, in the wild fury of the waves.

  Her breath was gone. The world had gone, the sunlight and the air, gone like her father and ma, like Bran and all her village. Even Snarf had gone now, wrenched away from her grasp. Gone, gone, gone…

  Then something hauled her up. No, not up. Up had no meaning in this world of waves. Something dragged her through the water and dropped her on the heaving deck. Arms reached down again, hauled Snarf up by his legs and dropped him sprawling on top of her.

  Hekja gasped, though even that hurt. She rolled out from under Snarf to see Freydis still holding the hem of her dress. She must have grabbed it, Hekja realised, and kept hold while Hekja sank in the waves. Even now, amidst the wind and waves, Freydis was laughing, as though the storm and all its fury was an enemy she had conquered.

  ‘A mermaid!’ she cried. ‘And a hairy fish!’ Hekja reached for Snarf, just as he coughed and tried to struggle to his feet. Hekja grabbed him again, but her hands felt cold and weak.

  ‘Thorvard!’ yelled Freydis. ‘We need rope! Bring it here!’

  Thorvard clambered across the ship. Even in this weather his step was firm, as though his body moved with the ship. ‘Tie the girl to the mast, and the dog as well,’ Freydis shouted.

  ‘The dog?’

  ‘I didn’t fish him out to lose him overboard again!’ yelled Freydis.

  Thorvard grinned. His beard was flecked with foam. He grabbed Snarf by the scruff of the neck and dragged him over to the mast. Snarf whined and tried to get away. But at least, thought Hekja, he was still alive.

  She tried to stand, then crawled instead through the water at the bottom of the ship, till she reached the mast too. It was a relief to feel the rope about her waist, tying her securely. Snarf was already tied about his neck and chest.

  ‘Bail!’ yelled Thorvard, forcing a bucket into Hekja’s limp hands.

  Hekja bailed. Her throat hurt, her body ached. It even hurt to breathe. But if bailing helped them survive then she’d keep on going. Half the time it seemed the waves just lashed the water back. But at least a little reached over the rail.

  Waves, and more waves, and waves again, some so high it seemed the ship could never climb them, or would be crashed to pieces by their weight. In between the crash of waves Hekja could see Thorvard at the rudder, forcing the ship through the storm. Even Freydis worked with the rowers now, heaving the great oars back and forth to give the ship what little power they could to ride the waves.

  No, it would never end, thought Hekja. Then suddenly she thought, the wind was worse than this a while ago. And slowly the wind died down, and the rain stopped. But the seas stayed as high as ever.

  The waves crashed around them all that night, and no one slept. Black sky, black air, black sea. Only the frothing wave tops showed any white at all. But with the first grey light of dawn the worst was over.

  Hekja hung limply from the rope, asleep from sheer exhaustion. When she woke the sea was calm, and men were yelling, trying to find the ships that had accompanied them before. But there was no answer except the lap of waves, and everything was white.

  Chapter 14

  THE ICEBERG

  She had seen fog before, of course. Snarf had fought the wolf in fog. But even then the world’s smells had been the same, the mountain grass, the cows. This was a world that smelt of salt and ice, and fog so dense she couldn’t see the ends of the ship.

  ‘Arf,’ Snarf barked beside her, as though there was a monster that only he could see.

  Then someone screamed out, ‘Berg!’

  Something loomed beside them, tall as a hill and gleaming, even though there was no sun to light it. The men scrambled to their rowlocks and heaved with their whole bodies at the oars.13

  It was as though the iceberg breathed out cold. The air about it was thick with cold. The hair on Hekja’s neck rose at its strangeness, gliding so silently through the water.

  Hekja scrabbled at the rope that still held her to the mast and half slid, half staggered over to Hikki. ‘What’s happening?’ she cried.

  Hikki’s fingers were white where he clung onto the side of the ship. He shook his head. Terror had stopped his tongue. His face was almost as white as the fog. ‘It is the end of the world,’ he muttered, through chattering teeth.

  Freydis glanced at them, then strode across the ship. She lifted Hekja’s chin with her fingers. ‘You were brave enough last night,’ she commented. ‘I like that. Let’s see how brave you are today.’

  ‘What is it?’ cried Hekja, gesturing towards the monster in the sea.

  ‘Just an iceberg,’ said Freydis. She gave the laugh that seemed to challenge fog and ice and sea as well. ‘It wants to crush us. We shall see who wins.’ She glanced back at the iceberg as though amused at its challenge.

  Suddenly Snarf barked again. It was a sharp sound in the cold air. He pointed with his nose, as he might do at a hare or deer. ‘Arf! Arf!’

  Freydis glanced carelessly in the direction his nose pointed. The
n suddenly she caught her breath as a new iceberg drifted into view. ‘Thorvard!’ she yelled. ‘To port! To port!’

  Thorvard heaved against the rudder. The ship veered. The iceberg passed, so close that if anyone had reached out of the ship, they might have touched it. Hekja heard a faint scraping, underneath the water, where the ice grazed the ship a bit too close.

  The ship lurched. But at least it held.

  Even Freydis held her breath at that. She let it out again and its steam added to the fog. ‘Well,’ she said. She looked at Snarf with new interest. ‘Do you think he can smell an iceberg?’

  Hekja shook her head. ‘We have never seen an iceberg before. He is a good hunter though.’

  ‘But can he hunt icebergs too?’ Freydis seemed to make up her mind without waiting for an answer. ‘Come,’ she said to Hekja. ‘The dog talks to you, I think. There is no time to teach him to talk to me. Where there are two icebergs there are more, and any one might kill us.’

  She strode back to the mast and untied Snarf. Snarf tried to stand, but his legs collapsed beneath him.

  Hekja bent and picked him up. He was as long as she was now, so she had to haul his front, while his back legs trailed behind.

  Hekja half carried, half dragged him to the prow of the ship. Snarf struggled to get down, but again his back legs collapsed beneath him, so he sat on his haunches, with as much dignity as he could, and stared out at the fog.

  Nothing happened. Freydis shrugged. ‘It was just coincidence,’ she said. ‘I’ve never heard of a dog who—’

  ‘Arf!’ Snarf interrupted her. He pointed again, to the left this time. ‘Arf arf arf!’

  ‘Far to starboard!’ yelled Freydis. Another great white shape floated through the fog, though at least this was far enough away not to disturb the ship. She grinned at Hekja. ‘It seems it was worth saving him from the sea! A dog who can smell icebergs!’

  The others in the boat were staring at them now. Snarf yipped, as though this was a great new game, and sniffed deep into the fog.