by Tony Bradman
‘Anyway, we can relax now,’ said Finn. ‘We’ve done our work for the day.’
‘What about Ylva and Kjartan?’ said Njal. ‘Shouldn’t we check on them too?’
Ylva was the wise woman people went to for potions and herbs to cure their sicknesses, and salves for their wounds. She was part of the village, but chose to live outside the stockade, in a hut at the edge of the forest. She was tiny and white-haired, always wore a long black gown, and seemed incredibly old. Some people thought she was scary, perhaps a witch, but Astrid scoffed at that and said Ylva had a kind heart.
Kjartan was old too. He had turned up at the village a few years ago, and Finn’s father had given him shelter for a while. But eventually he chose to live outside as well, in a hut near Ylva’s. He was tall, and his long hair was mostly grey. He kept himself to himself, rarely spoke, and never came into the village. There had been a time when people wondered what his story was, but now nobody really gave it much thought.
‘No, I’m sure they’re all right,’ said Finn. ‘We can visit them tomorrow.’
He realised that Njal was no longer listening to him, however. Both of Finn’s friends were looking upwards with puzzled frowns on their faces, and Finn turned to see what had caught their attention. A distant column of black smoke was rising high into the cloudless blue sky, somewhere to the north of the village.
‘I don’t like the look of that,’ said Egil. Finn didn’t like the look of it either.
He only hoped it didn’t mean trouble.
But it did.
CHAPTER THREE
Fire and Sword
Others had seen the column of smoke, and a murmuring crowd soon gathered in the open space outside the hall, the place in the village with the best view north. Most of them thought a fire in the forest must be the cause.
‘Don’t be stupid,’ said Kalf. ‘Smoke from a forest fire never rises straight up like that! Besides, any fool knows that the forest is too damp in the autumn for a fire.’
‘Well, as you’re so clever, perhaps you can tell us what is going on,’ said Egil.
‘I most certainly can, boy,’ snapped Kalf. ‘That’s the kind of smoke you get when houses burn. And I’d be willing to wager it’s coming from Andari’s village.’
Finn felt worry touch his heart. Andari was chief of the next settlement up the coast, and a good friend of his father’s. Many of Ottar’s people had friends in Andari’s village, and a few even had kin there. Fire was a constant danger in villages like theirs, where the houses were built of wood and had roofs of thatch or turf.
‘Shouldn’t we do something?’ Finn said. ‘We ought to go and help.’
‘There’s no point,’ said Kalf. ‘It would take a day at least to walk that far through the forest. So whatever is happening will be over long before you arrive.’
Finn knew Kalf was right. He would just have to wait for his father to come home, and in the meantime pray to Odin that Andari and the people of his village were unharmed. But he was left feeling unsatisfied and powerless, and he wondered if everyone was looking at him and wishing his father hadn’t left him in charge. The crowd eventually broke up, but Finn watched the smoke for the rest of that day.
He rose early the next morning and went outside to gaze north. The sky was grey with clouds and the column of smoke had disappeared, leaving only a faint haze beyond the forest. Finn turned to go back into the hall, but then he saw Egil running towards him, the expression on his face a mixture of shock and excitement.
‘You must come to the quayside, Finn!’ he said, panting. ‘Quickly!’
‘Why? What’s going on?’ Finn asked. But Egil had dashed off again, down towards the harbour, without answering. Finn frowned and followed, hurrying past quiet houses where families still slept, and others where they were beginning to wake and think about making the morning meal as the village stirred to face the new day.
Egil was waiting at the quayside, along with Njal and Kalf and several more villagers. Everyone was looking at something down below. Finn pushed through and saw it was a small, one-masted sailing boat crammed full of people. There were three men and half a dozen women, most clutching tiny babies or children. One of the men was wounded, his head swathed in bloodstained rags, and they all looked worn out and frightened. The children were deathly pale, their faces stained with tears.
‘Well, don’t just stand there!’ said Finn at once. ‘Help them ashore!’
It took a while to get all the people off the boat and on to the quayside, but they managed it at last. Finn recognised one of the women. Her name was Solveig, and she was Andari’s wife. She had two small children with her, a boy and a girl.
‘Don’t worry, you are safe now,’ said Finn. ‘What happened?’
‘The sea-wolves came with fire and sword,’ said Solveig, her voice trembling. ‘They burned our village and killed everyone who tried to stand against them.’
‘What about your husband?’ said Finn, his heart sinking. ‘He is not with you.’
‘We were the only ones to escape,’ she said. ‘Andari got us to the boat, and then...’
She could say no more and broke down, crying and pulling her children close. They sobbed too. Finn wished he could comfort them, but he knew words wouldn’t help. ‘Sea-wolves’ was another name for pirates, raiders who took the whale’s road and attacked villages for plunder and slaves, who looted and burned and killed. There had been no reports of such raids on this coast for a long time.
Now it seemed the sea-wolves had returned.
* * *
Finn and the others helped the survivors from Andari’s village up to the hall, where Astrid immediately set about caring for them. She ordered the servants to bring dry clothes, and made sure they had something to eat, especially the children. Ylva appeared, seemingly without being summoned by anyone, and tended to the wounded man, salving the cuts on his head and binding them with clean linen.
The news flew quickly round the settlement, and before long a noisy crowd of inquisitive villagers had gathered outside the hall. The boldest among them pushed open the doors so they could gawp at the survivors and call out questions.
‘Be off with you!’ Astrid said, shooing them away. ‘These poor people are in no state to talk to anyone. Finn will call a meeting later to tell you more – won’t you, Finn?’
‘What?’ said Finn, surprised, and Astrid gave him a look. ‘Er... yes, of course,’ he said. ‘We will have a village meeting here later, after the midday meal.’
It was clearly the right thing to do – the villagers deserved to know what was going on. Even so, Finn felt cross with himself. He should have known what to do without being told by his stepmother – his father wouldn’t have needed that. Finn saw Gunnhild shaking her head in disbelief, and he walked away, his cheeks hot.
The morning turned cold and wet, with a sharp wind from the sea bringing rain, and people began to gather in the hall as soon as the midday meal was finished. The servants set out benches and Astrid took a place at the front, as befitted the lady of the house, with Gunnhild next to her. The survivors from Andari’s village sat on one side of the hearth, Solveig and her children in the middle of them. Finn stood on the other side, flanked by Egil and Njal, and waited until everyone fell silent. He felt strange, as if he was pretending to be his father, but he had thought about what to say.
‘Welcome to the hall of my father, and his father before him,’ he said, changing the usual words of the chief’s greeting. ‘We are gathered to hear what has happened to our friends, the people of Andari’s village. Can you tell us now, Solveig?’
‘I... I can,’ Solveig said. ‘They came at night, when we were sleeping...’
She spoke quietly, the sound of the rain almost drowning out her voice. It seemed that men from a longship had landed and forced their way through the gates of the village’s stockade, which had been unguarded. They had set houses alight with torches and killed people as they ran out, although they had allowed som
e to live – the ones they wanted to sell as slaves. The men had tried to fight back, but they hadn’t stood a chance against warriors armed with swords and spears and axes.
As soon as she had finished speaking, a few of those sitting on the benches called out, asking if their kin and friends might also have escaped in some way. Solveig said nothing, but shook her head at each name, and screams soon filled the hall.
‘Who are these sea-wolves?’ said Finn at last. ‘Where are they from?’
‘Only the gods can tell you that,’ said Solveig. ‘They speak Norse, the same tongue as us, but they are too cruel to be ordinary men. Their chief strode among them like a creature of darkness. He has raven-black hair with a streak of pure white in it and a scar running over one eye, and he laughed as he killed Andari...’
‘Oh, don’t worry, he’s a man all right,’ said a voice. ‘His name is Red Swein.’
Finn looked round and saw that it was Ylva who had spoken. She was sitting beside Astrid, and everyone else in the hall was now staring at her in surprise.
‘So, you’ve heard of this man,’ said Finn. ‘What can you tell us about him?’
‘There’s only one thing you need to know,’ said Kalf. He was sitting behind Ylva, but now he stood up to address the hall. ‘Sea-wolves don’t just raid a single village and then disappear. They always attack as many as they can in one voyage.’
‘What are you saying?’ a man murmured. ‘You think they’ll come here?’
‘Oh yes,’ said Kalf. ‘In fact I’m as sure of it as I’m certain the sun will rise tomorrow. They will come, and they will do the same to us. Our only chance is to flee, to run deep into the forest and hide until they have gone away...’
There were loud groans and cries of alarm, and then the villagers started to yell and talk over each other, most of them agreeing with Kalf. Finn looked on, bewildered, wondering just how the old man had managed to take over the meeting so easily. Then he felt a sudden wave of anger, and he knew he had to regain control or lose it forever. And there was only one way to do that – his father’s way.
‘SILENCE!’ Finn yelled at the top of his voice, his words ringing around the hall. Everyone stopped talking, and all eyes turned to him. ‘We will not flee into the forest. We will stay in our village, and if the sea-wolves come – well, then we will fight them.’
Finn had never felt anything so strongly before in his life. It was as if Odin himself had whispered in his ear: this will be your chance to show your father that you can be a great warrior. What fame he would win if these sea-wolves came to the village and he led his people in defeating them! Songs would be sung about such a hero until the day of Ragnarok, when the world was doomed to end in blood and fire.
This was his moment, and he would seize it with all his might.
CHAPTER FOUR
Thunder Rumbling
It didn’t end there, of course – after Finn had spoken, the yelling started once more, and then went on for a long time. Kalf kept shouting the same thing again and again – they should flee into the forest as soon as possible – and plenty of people agreed. Then Finn said they would only have to hold out for a few days, just until his father and the other men returned, which swayed many over to his side.
‘Don’t listen to the boy!’ Kalf yelled, so cross his eyes were almost popping out of his skull. ‘Ottar would agree with me. He always listens to my advice!’
‘He does not,’ said Astrid with a snort of derision. ‘You’re the last person my husband would take advice from, and Finn knows his father’s mind better than you do. Ottar left Finn in charge, and Finn has spoken. There is nothing more to say.’
Finn nodded. ‘The meeting is over,’ he said. ‘Go back to your homes.’
‘But what happens now?’ said a woman. ‘What do you want us to do?’
Good question, thought Finn, wishing he had an answer for her. But he didn’t. ‘Er... no need to worry about that now,’ he said. ‘I will tell you all later.’
There was some grumbling, and Finn could see Kalf wanted to keep the argument going. The old man couldn’t stand up to Astrid’s icy gaze, though. He turned on his heel and left the hall muttering, and everyone else trailed out behind him.
‘We should talk, Finn,’ said Astrid, and walked off towards the chamber she shared with Finn’s father. Finn told Egil and Njal he would see them later, and followed after her.
The chamber was at the rear of the hall. A large wooden bed covered in furs stood against one wall, its headboard filled with a carving of the goddess Freya, her eyes like stars and the lines of her long hair merging into the waves of the sea. Astrid was sitting on a low settle by another wall, and Finn sat down beside her.
‘Thank you, Astrid,’ he said. ‘I thought he was never going to shut up.’
Astrid smiled. ‘We had all heard more than enough from Kalf the Sour for one day. And I meant what I said. You know your father’s mind much better than Kalf does.’
‘So, you think my father would agree with me? He would stay and fight?’
‘Yes, I am sure he would. We have all worked so hard over many years to make this village what it is today, and your father would not want to see it destroyed by these sea-wolves. Besides, we cannot flee into the forest in this weather.’
Finn hadn’t thought of that. It was still raining, the wind was moaning and gusting and rattling the doors of the hall like a great beast scrabbling to get in, and thunder rumbled over the mountains as if Thor was beating them with his giant hammer. The village always lost a few of the weak and the old when the weather turned bad in the autumn and winter, usually from the coughing sickness that had killed Finn’s mother. How many more would die if they spent days in the forest without any shelter?
‘The only trouble is... I don’t exactly know how we can fight,’ Finn said. It was good to hear Astrid thought his father would approve of what he was doing, but that didn't make it any easier. The truth was that the feeling he’d had in front of everyone in the hall had faded. Now his stomach was beginning to churn with worries – how could they hope to resist armed warriors? What should they actually do? Why had he opened his mouth and said such a stupid thing? Maybe Kalf was right after all...
‘We have the stockade,’ said Astrid, shrugging. ‘It will be hard for anybody to climb over if we guard it – we must have enough people for that. You should try to get Kalf on your side, though. Men like him need to feel important, and he’ll keep telling everyone you’re a fool until he does. So, find him something to do.’
They talked for what seemed like a long time, Astrid making other suggestions, and Finn felt his confidence return. Perhaps it would be possible, he thought, the outline of a plan beginning to form in his mind. He just had to keep his nerve, like the heroes in the stories and songs. In fact, he thought to himself with a smile, his fame and glory would be even greater because the odds against him were so high...
‘One last thing, Finn,’ said Astrid, taking his hand. ‘Your father thought leaving you in charge while he was away would be good for you, perhaps help you to see what really matters in life and grow up a little. He certainly didn’t think anything like this would happen. You have a much harder test to face than he ever imagined, but don’t be downhearted. I am sure you will get through it.’
Finn thanked her again, pleased that at least one person believed in him.
* * *
He had worked out his plan by the time he caught up with Egil and Njal. ‘It’s simple,’ he said as he led his friends back to the hall. The wind and rain had eased, but the sky was filled with grey clouds, and great rags of white mist hung around the mountain peaks. ‘We make the village a fortress – we allow nobody to enter or leave. We bring in the flocks and herds, we close the gates and seal them, we man the walls.’
‘What, just us three?’ said Egil, scowling. ‘That’s not going to work, is it?’
‘No, you idiot,’ said Finn. ‘We’ll need as many people as we can get. I want you to round
up all the boys who are more than ten summers old. Njal, you’re to collect weapons – axes, hunting spears, knives, things that could be made into clubs. Take whatever you can find and bring it here to the hall. Is that understood?’
They both grinned and nodded, then ran in different directions to do his bidding.
Finn, meanwhile, went off to talk to Kalf. The old man lived with his wife in a small house at the other end of the village. Kalf kept a couple of pigs in his front yard, and had a chicken coop at the side. Finn knocked on his door and Kalf opened it.
‘What do you want, boy?’ he snarled. ‘We have nothing to say to each other.’
‘Listen, Kalf, I’m sorry we quarrelled, and I hope we can put it behind us. But that’s not the only reason I’m here. I’ve come to ask for your help. I need a man with lots of experience, a man that everybody in the village has learned to respect.’
‘Your stepmother didn’t pay me much respect earlier,’ Kalf muttered.
‘You’re right, and I’m sorry about that too,’ said Finn. ‘I hope you can forgive her. I know my father thinks very highly of you, whatever Astrid might say...’
Finn kept talking, piling on the praise and flattery, and Kalf lapped it all up. Finally Finn asked the old man for a special favour, saying that only Kalf could do it.
‘So, you want me to ask the older men to guard the walls alongside the boys?’ said Kalf. ‘You’re right, of course, I am the best man to take on that task. I’m still thinking of leaving, you know. But I suppose I could help you get organised before I go.’
Finn walked away, pleased the trick had worked, yet hardly able to believe it had been so easy. He had learned a lesson about people – thanks to Astrid.
Later that day he stood at the door of his father’s hall with Egil and Njal on one side and Kalf on the other, watching the village’s boys and older men assemble in front of them. There were fifty or so, the youngest a boy who didn’t know if he was nine or ten summers, the oldest a grey-beard who said he was sixty. But he had lost most of his memory as well as most of his teeth, so he could have been much older. The rest were boys younger than Finn, and men older than his father – or even Kalf.