To Serve and Submit

by Susan Wright

  Mollified somewhat, she had to nod. “You’re like Gudren in that way. We could work something out, Marja. You could travel with Gudren if you need that. I would miss you both, but I would prefer that than to lose you altogether.”

  I was touched by how much she truly cared about me. “I enjoy being here with you, Alga. I adore you both. But I must go. Silveta needs my help. And I love my master.”

  Alga sighed, finally accepting the truth. “You tried to tell me before and I wouldn’t listen. I know better now. I’ll talk to Gudren.” She gave me one last, long hug, wetting my cheek with her tears. “I can’t even ask you to promise to return because you belong to that awful man!”

  I had to smile at that. “I will try to come see you, Alga. I promise you that.”

  When I joined Lexander and Silveta outside, I didn’t tell them that Gudren wanted to deny us the use of his ship. I would leave that to Alga. Lexander didn’t say a word about the Sigurdssons’ offer to buy me. He waited with an absent gaze over the water, leaning against a fence. When Gudren emerged, I followed them down to the docks as if nothing had happened.

  Gudren made a great display of his affection as he bade me good-bye. I could tell he did not want to let me go. The shipmaster noticed, as did the oarsmen waiting on the oceangoing knaar. It truly pained Gudren to let me sail away from him. He had lost me once to Silveta and had obviously decided to keep me this time. But Alga had the final word, as she always did.

  My parting with these good people was eased by the prospect of our journey. Though we were running for our lives, I felt safe enough on the Sigurdssons’ estate to begin to enjoy the adventure of it all. I could tell Silveta did not feel the same way, so I didn’t speak out loud about my delight in setting off.

  I had never been on a knaar before. The ship had a large open space in the center that was filled with towering stacks of wooden logs stripped of their bark. There were also supplies for the twenty men for the journey. I didn’t realize how long it would take us to travel to Gronland until much later.

  I stood in the stern waving to Gudren as the knaar pulled away from the dock. I cared very much for them, but I knew in my heart that I would not be happy there for long. Their estate was too confining, their lives too monotonous for one such as me. It made me sad that I could not give them what they wanted—just as I could not give Lexander what he wanted.

  My desire to roam had conflicted with my submissive ways before, but never so sharply. The turmoil of my own emotions prevented me from losing myself in the sea spirits, so I had only my own thoughts to dwell in. If Lexander had wanted to stay in Vidaris forever, keeping me with him, could I have been content? Nay, I was certain my longing for what lay beyond would have tormented me more and more as time went by. Likely that would have created a crack inside of me, allowing Helanas’ evil to penetrate.

  I was also defying my submissive desires by refusing Lexander my intimacy. But I was certain I was right in resisting his lure. I wanted to touch him, to give him my love and affection without restraint, but I was afraid to lose myself in him. I couldn’t leave him, yet I feared that I would weaken the longer we were together. That was the otherworldly way, to tempt us with our hearts’ desires into giving up our lives.

  The great knaar sailed across the Nauga Sea to Markland. By the time we reached its easternmost tip, the buttes of my homeland were enshrouded in shadows as the sun slowly sank behind the trees. I finally removed the bandage Alga had put on my hand and dipped my wounded palm into a bucket of seawater.

  The sea spirits showed me fierce fighting, not only in Tillfallvik, but in some of the settlements where Birgir’s men had seized the best lands and violated the womenfolk. Birgir’s warriors were abandoning their homesteads and retreating to Tillfallvik, where the decisive battle would be fought. Magnates in every settlement were also preparing to depart for Tillfallvik, where they intended to choose the next chieftain of Markland.

  Birgir’s specter darkened all our prospects. I should have been exultant to have escaped. Yet I was plagued by an unreasoning fear that Birgir might still catch us, that his own knaars would unerringly hunt us down.

  As we were passing an outcropping of rock that curved into the ocean like a fleshy paw trying to bat our ship, an olf suddenly appeared onboard. Its face as round as the moon with merry eyes, it was comforting to see. The olf floated over my head, assuring me that it was the means by which the Markland olfs would keep vigil with us on our journey. I could not hide from it what had happened with the overlord and Lexander’s dire prediction that Birgir would be harder to beat with the powerful Jedvard on his side. But the olf cared only that we were sailing now to get help.

  Silveta couldn’t hear the spirits, but she seemed to understand the turmoil that was happening in her land. She sat in utter silence, staring at the shore until Markland disappeared into the dank mist behind us. Alga had given her a man-sized cloak to cover her festive silk dress on the voyage. She huddled in it like a child, sheltered somewhat from the fierce ocean spray in the stern.

  As darkness fell, Silveta and I crept under the canvas that stretched over the center of the ship, protecting the logs. The cargo was much valued in the northern islands where trees were scarce. We lay down on the bumpy surface to try to sleep with the rocking of the ship. I was not sure whether I truly slept or merely swam in the thrall of the sea spirits.

  The next morning, I awoke to find Lexander speaking quietly with the shipmaster. When I climbed over the benches to get closer to him, he absently ordered, “Stay in the stern, Marja, where you’ll be safe.”

  I glanced at the oarsmen who were watching us closely. I did not think they would harm us, but mayhap Lexander was more concerned about me getting in their way. So I retreated to the stern to sit beside Silveta, watching as the oarsmen went about their duties. Lexander treated both of us the same—with distant courtesy. I felt as if our moment of connection inside the bastion had not happened at all. He knew the risk I faced in loving him and was truly trying to help me avoid him. The shipmaster never spoke to us at all, dealing only with Lexander.

  As we sailed north along the coast of Helluland, stunted spruce and evergreens lined the shore, looking much the same as my homeland. Soon enough we reached what the Skraelings called flat-stone land. The endless rocks started at the shore and continued into the distance, stopping only where great mounds of ice began. It was so different that I was astonished, but it was generally regarded by the Noromenn as having no good qualities.

  For days thereafter, we saw nothing but water, ice, and naked rock. The ice came in all shades and consistencies—crumbling brown at the edge of vast fields, and deep, clear blue ice at the heart of floes. The water grew frigid, but I could not touch it even when I leaned far out. It made Silveta too nervous when I tried, so I refrained. But the oarsmen drew up buckets of water to dash on their heads, letting out loud, satisfied cries at the shock of it.

  The sunlight lasted longer every day, yet it was weakened and diffused the farther north we went. It reflected off the water, the ice, and the tiny crystals that hung in the air or blew with the force of sand that scraped my face. Fat brown seals and walruses covered the rocky islands, and the noise of their barking filled our ears as we sailed by. Seabirds flew overhead, craning their necks to see if we carried a whale carcass or piles of long silvery cod.

  I loved it all. It was so different from the green land that I knew. I could feel there were Skraeling out there, though we saw few of their small, round boats. I even enjoyed the constant diet of salty, dried fish and hard biscuits that had to be soaked to soften them for chewing. Silveta refused to eat the oily bars of fat that the oarsmen ate by the handful, but I found the strong taste satisfying.

  Then we left land behind and were surrounded by only the ocean and icebergs. The bergs grew bigger, like floating mountains, with bases that went far down out of sight. When the waves grew still, the surface of the water turned into a mirror, reflecting the tops of the bergs. The
ice shone white in the sun and sky blue in the shadows. I marveled at the shapes, some like spires or large slabs with holes piercing through, showing the sky beyond. They crested in frozen waves, with swoops and divots along their irregular knifelike edges. I could stare at a shifting ice field forever, it seemed.

  Occasionally a fountain of spray marked a whale surfacing, and I grew adept at guessing where the next one would appear. The oarsmen paid little attention, though these giant water beasts were much larger than our knaar. Their great tail fins spanned a huge distance, and the explosion as they hit the water reverberated far and wide.

  I saw it all because the sun never set. The round silvery disc swung around in the sky low to the horizon. The constant rocking of the ship linked me with the sea spirits, and without a daily rhythm to pull me from their clutches, their presence flooded my mind. I saw sea creatures going about their inscrutable ways far from these icy waters, in places filled with brightly colored plants and fish. I discovered more through the sea spirits than I had ever seen in my travels.

  My dreams were also disturbed. I slept not knowing if it was day or night. After a while, I gave up going under the canvas with Silveta. Instead, I lay curled up on the bench under the open sky, impervious to mist or rain in the thick cloak Alga had given me.

  Then somehow I found myself entwined in Lexander’s arms. It seemed inevitable, yet the shock of it as his lips nuzzled my neck was almost more than I could bear. We were floating naked, skin against skin, with the milky green light filtering down from above. Bubbles rose from our mouths, tickling as we laughed. Lazily, we turned together underwater end over end. Perhaps I had jumped overboard with him in a fit of madness, giving in to his otherworldly power. An eternity of torment awaited me, but somehow that was a very distant concern.

  He rubbed effortlessly against me, like we were part of the water, moving as the currents tugged and lifted us. My hair flared out, undulating in a nimbus around me. He tangled his fingers in it, snagging some strands close to his face. We rocked together so gently that it nearly maddened me. But everything was sinuous underwater, in gentle motion with no resistance, no struggle. I surrendered to it, relaxing into him, and felt ripples of release overtake me though we merely brushed against each other. He let out a long sigh as his seed spilled into the water. It seemed to go on forever, and satisfied me like no other lovemaking had.

  We broke to the surface with a surprising burst of air and water. Breathing deeply, the waves lifted us up high, showing me cresting water in every direction. With a rush, we were carried back down into the vast trough. As we lifted again, we kissed, melting into each other as we had underwater.

  When I opened my eyes, my body was humming on the hard bench. I had to touch my hair to be sure it wasn’t wet. It had felt so real, a vision mayhap, rather than a dream. I was breathing fast, unable to catch my balance, wondering if it had really happened. The olf was perched on the mast, grinning as if it knew something I did not. Likely it had dabbled in my dream.

  When Lexander emerged from under the canvas, our gazes met. The intensity in his animal eyes, too golden for a man, made me wonder if he had seen the vision, too. Whether it had been sent by the sea spirits or was something of his own making, I did not know. Yet he did not approach me, and I knew he would not press me. But he wanted me, of that I was certain.

  By the time land was sighted ahead, Silveta roused herself. At first I could see only the field ice of polished, melting bergs. Then greenish brown hillsides rose beyond. The green was too radiant to be grass, and as we approached a great fjord, I realized it was a film of lichen covering the bare rock. The water rippled, reflecting the cloud-pocked sky and the bergs silently floating by.

  There were scores of longhouses dotting the steep hillsides. Most were made of sod, and some were covered with yellow plants rather than grass. The more imposing buildings were made of stone or logs, though these were relatively few.

  I could feel the olfs sending out joyous greetings as we approached. The olf on our ship responded as if it was familiar to them.

  The oarsmen were in high spirits, and from their comments, they hoped to sell their cargo here in Erisstadir. A system of low docks floated directly on the water so they could be pulled out if need be, away from the invasive ice and bergs. When I jumped down from the knaar, the dock felt more unsteady than the great boat. Silveta needed Lexander’s help to get down. I noticed she also had trouble standing on shore and relied on the support of his arm. She had become accustomed to the motion of the sea. Lexander was at ease, as always, and I tuned in to the land, listening to the olfs and sensing the flow of spirits to quickly adjust.

  Lexander’s tone of command carried Silveta along, securing us a place to stay at an inn. She asked Lexander to help her negotiate for warriors and boats to fight Birgir, and he quietly agreed. As Silveta readied herself to meet with the leaders in this town, I was far too restless to wait, as usual.

  Without a backward look, I left the inn and started up a path deeper into the fjord. All of my senses were open, savoring the rocky land that was frozen yet vibrant with life. From the olfs, I knew there were hundreds of homesteads and small farms with sparse gardens and fields lying in velvety clefts between the outcroppings. But I didn’t see a single tree anywhere. It seemed unreal, as if the ground had shed its fur coat and lay naked under the sky.

  The olfs danced along beside me as I climbed and ran far up the fjord. They enjoyed my astonishment at everything I saw, delighting in my sense of discovery at the sight of a glacier curving over a pass. The blunt end was roughened with chunks of snow and ice littering the ground at its base. It looked like water had frozen in midflow, as if time had somehow stopped.

  I sensed sprites living inside the glacier, staying always within the ice. It was not a hard mass as I had thought, but was riddled with crevices and caves that glowed blue and green. The ice sprites slid from place to place, floating over the black depths and dodging dripping water. They beckoned to me, whispering that they knew secrets they must share with me. But I was already shivering and knew that my flesh would soon freeze if I joined the ice sprites.

  As I wandered through the scattered settlement, I wondered if we had somehow accidentally sailed into the land of Malina, where the sun god resides. It seemed enchanted, as only the home of a god could be.

  Then I found a strange building. It was made of logs and was in good repair, but no one lived there. It was a single room with several benches and an empty hearth, but I couldn’t step inside. The olfs also stayed at a distance. Yet it didn’t feel like an evil spirit inhabited the place. It felt like nothing.

  As I finally withdrew, latching the door, the olfs helpfully whispered, “Sanctuary of Kristna.”

  So this was a haven for Birgir’s “one true god.” I had never seen a room dedicated to a god before. Perhaps only Kristna worshippers could enter his abode.

  I walked for far longer than I intended without the promise of a sunset to send me back. The sun merely swung around low in the sky, and for once I lost my sense of direction. Only my utter weariness finally prompted me to return down the fjord to the shore.

  The inn was a huge sod longhouse sectioned off into rooms for privacy. The walls were covered in cracked plaster, and the floor was paved with blue-gray stone.

  I heard familiar voices in the common room. When I entered, Silveta was seated on a rough bench with Lexander standing to one side. The Markland olf followed me right inside.

  A large bear of a man stood facing them. His muddy blond hair covered his head and face, leaving only his small eyes peering out. Even his bulbous nose had hairs sprouting from the tip. He was shaking his head even as Silveta spoke.

  “ ... and I could provide what arms you require,” she was saying urgently. “Your men would be returned as quickly as we could secure Tillfallvik, and in reward I could give you as many spars and wood products as your community needs.”

  I knew even before the man replied what his answer wo
uld be. “We are farmers here, freya, not warriors. Our young men with hot blood return to the Auldworld to find their victories. We have none here to spare, especially not in midsummer when our fields need tending.”

  Silveta seemed to be desperately holding on to hope. “Surely you could put the word out and let your people decide for themselves. I offer a rich return for those who accompany me.”

  “We have no use for western squabbles here,” the bearish man said definitively. “But you and your folk are welcome to stay. There are homesteads open up the fjord.”

  The man didn’t even wait to hear her answer, but turned and stomped heavily from the small room. Lexander motioned for Silveta to wait and quickly followed him. He gave me a curious look as he passed, making me wonder how long I had been gone. It was impossible to tell in these endless days.

  Silveta slumped back, putting her hands to her face. “They won’t give me the men I need. They say they have no warriors in Gronland.”

  I nodded. “I sense only peace here.”

  Irritably, she snapped, “Where have you been? Lexander was afraid you’d lost your wits and would never come back.”

  “I was seeing the land.”

  “Not much here,” Silveta said bitterly. “Barren, ugly place!”

  My brow rose. “I think it’s stunning.”

  Silveta shook her head, a frown line between her eyes. “What would I do here, marry a farmer? Live like a peasant for the rest of my life, buried in snow and darkness half the year?”

  “Does it get dark?” I asked eagerly. I could hardly imagine it. One of the olfs obligingly gave me a glimpse of midwinter in Gronland. The world was blanketed in white, with nothing but moonlit snow and starry skies. I was dazzled for a moment.

  Silveta stood up and began to pace, wringing her hands. Her hair hung down her back in a neat braid. “What am I going to do?”

  “What about the other Gronland settlements? Perhaps they will be more receptive.”