Erik the Red

by Tilman Roehrig

  “No, Father!” Leif quickly steered his horse closer. He bent deep over the mane and tried to take in Erik’s bearded face. “Please look at me. Please look at me.”

  With great calm, Erik turned his head toward his son. “There’s nothing more to discuss. We don’t have much time left, so let’s enjoy what little there is.”

  Leif’s lips trembled. He turned to Tyrkir for guidance. “Uncle, where are we going?”

  “Up to the dam.”

  Before Tyrkir could continue, Erik said, “So it is, my son. And when we reach the top, I will soon ascend to the very top and be pampered in the hall of the gods with sweet mead and meat from the boiled boar.”

  “No, Father! No!” Desperate, Leif gave his horse his heels and flew away.

  Erik sighed. “What joy I have today. My wife has forgiven me. My son loves me. I can be happy. What do you think, my friend?”

  Tyrkir didn’t answer.

  Below the hills, Leif waited. His cheeks were still wet, but his tears had stopped. “Must you do it?”

  “Yes, as long as I still have the strength for it myself, for only if I die a manly death can I go to Valhalla and will not need to go down to the realm of Hel. Now ask no more questions!”

  They tied his body tightly onto the stallion’s back, pulled and dragged the animal up the steep path, and finally, they had reached the height.

  Moaning, the giant lifted his face out of the mane. “Untie me!” With his left arm, he pointed underneath him to the narrow canal for the beam lock. “Every spring, the boulders have to be removed. Otherwise, the ditches in the pastures become blocked. Make sure you do it.” His gaze slid over the deep blue lake and remained fixed on the other side of the stream inlet and the stony meadow slopes. “Know-It-All, you know where I want to go.”

  While Tyrkir led the horse, Leif stayed by his father’s side. Erik tried to look at the sky more than once.

  “What are you looking for?”

  “The white falcon. I had hoped Goddess Freya would come for me. A pity. But never mind, I’ll meet her soon.”

  On the ledge above the lake, they reached the end of the path. Here, Erik had practiced with his weapons when he’d wanted to steel himself for the overpowering enemy who threatened his old world with the cross.

  Leif cowered on his hands and knees. Tyrkir gently helped his friend push one leg back over the stallion’s croup; carried on Leif’s back, Erik finally got out of the saddle. “How good that I don’t have to go back up,” he joked.

  “Stay on your knees, Son! Your father is not as tall as he used to be.” Without his stick, Erik’s left hand felt over Leif’s hair and touched his forehead. “Even though you brought this hypocrite into my land, boy, you are my beloved firstborn, my Leif the Lucky. May my gods and your god protect you. No, don’t look at me. Sit by the lake. There, you’ll see our sky in the mirror.”

  For the last time, the son obeyed the father. As he went down to the water, two ravens sluggishly lifted themselves up and jumped onto the next boulder.

  Tyrkir tried to stay cheerful. “If Freya does not come, at least Odin has sent his scouts Hugin and Munin to you, so don’t complain.” With this, he handed the staff to Erik.

  “One more thing, Know-It-All. Please, at least today, let me have the last word!”

  Tyrkir silently pulled the sword from the giant’s belt loop. He drilled the handle into the ground and secured it with three stones.

  They had already said goodbye in the night. Supported by the stick, Erik moved closer until the sharp point flashed under his bent chest. “I am glad, my friend, that you were at my side. Now take care of our Thjodhild! That’s all.”

  For a moment, their eyes locked, and then Tyrkir turned away. It was as if the wind had stopped and only started again after a deep sigh. When the two ravens fluttered up, he thought, Yes, carry the news and announce to Odin the arrival of the bravest fighter.

  With his upper body lowered, Erik was still held up by the blade; no other support was needed. He’d closed his eyes.

  Tyrkir fetched Leif from the shore. “It’s all right,” he murmured. “Your father wants you to know that.”

  They lay him on the earth and put the sword on his chest. Tyrkir tore out tufts of grass to seal the orifices of his body according to ancient custom, then thoughtfully refrained from doing so. “Perhaps his soul will find its way to the other heaven.”

  Together, they piled the burial mound from stone boulders and gave it the shape of a ship. Their tears only dried when the grave was complete, pointing toward the deep blue eye of the lake. Tomorrow, Tyrkir wanted to chisel a rune stone as a memento.

  For a long time, Leif stared ahead. At some point, he asked, “What now? I am the lord of Steep Slope. But what now, Uncle?”

  Quietly, Tyrkir looked at him. “Marry.”

  “What?”

  He smiled slightly. “I said, you must get married, boy! So it can go on.”

  “Ingva,” Leif murmured. “Her father wants her out of the house.” He smiled. “Yes, Ingva is a good woman.”

  On the way back through the pastures, Tyrkir looked steadfastly at the riderless stallion in front of him. I never told my friend about my dream, he thought at one point, saddened by the lucky stone that had fallen into the black sea. He immediately wiped the memory away. How many times had they jumped after it over the edge of the rock and yet had not drowned with it? Perhaps not drowning meant happiness?

  They reached the farmhouse in the late afternoon. Tyrkir got out of the saddle. “You take the horses to the stable,” he said, and his voice barely obeyed him. “Let me go to your mother alone.”

  Thjodhild sat in front of the house. Below her, the sun shone from the west, creating a silvery road across the bay. She raised her eyes, but only briefly. “I’ve been waiting since morning.”

  Silently, Tyrkir sat down beside her and put his hand on hers. After a while, Thjodhild whispered, “Yes, hold me, please. For a long time.”

  Index of Names

  ASKEL

  Called Askel the Lean. Small farmer on the south side of the snowy peninsula. He is a Christian.

  EGIL

  Son of Ingolf and Solveig

  EINAR SIGMUNDSSON

  Rich landowner on the south side of the snowy peninsula; uncle of Thjodhild and father of Hallweig

  EJOLF

  Called Ejolf Dirt, brother of Valtjof. He woos Thjodhild and is rejected. Erik’s enemy.

  EJOLF OF HOG ISLAND

  Squire of the Breidafjord, ally of Erik

  ERIK THORVALDSSON

  Called Erik the Red, the Viking who seeks happiness

  ERNESTUS

  A priest from Saxony; first priest on Greenland

  FREYDIS, ERIK’S DAUGHTER

  Daughter of Erik and the maid Katla. She is accepted into the family as a daughter who is entitled to inherit.

  GUDRID

  Daughter of Thorbjörn Vifilsson and Hallweig

  HALLWEIG

  Wife of Gode Thorbjörn Vifilsson, friend of Thjodhild

  HERJULF

  Wholesale merchant from Smoke Bay. He goes to the new country.

  HRAVN ARISSON

  Called Holmgang, friend of Ejolf’s; a great fighter

  INGOLF ARNESSON

  Erik’s neighbor in Greenland

  INGVA

  Daughter of Ingolf and Solveig

  KATLA

  Slave of Erik, mother of Freydis

  KETIL

  Erik’s slave

  LEIF ERIKSSON

  Later called Leif the Lucky; eldest son of Erik and Thjodhild

  ODD THORGESTSSON

  Son of Thorgest of Breida Farm

  SIGRID

  Daughter of Ingolf and Solveig

  SOLVEIG

  Wife of Ingolf Arnesson

  STYR

  Landlord on the south side of the snowy peninsula; ally of Erik

  THJODHILD

  Erik’s wife

  THORBJÖRG

>   Thjodhild’s mother

  THORBJÖRN

  Thjodhild’s stepfather

  THORBJÖRN VIFILSSON

  Gode (judge) from the south side of the Snow Rock peninsula; squire of Warm Spring Slope

  THORGEST

  Landlord of the Breida Farm by the Breidafjord

  THORGILS

  Leif’s son with the sorceress Thorgunna

  THORGUNNA

  Sorceress (völva) in Drimore in the Hebrides; a Christian

  THORROD

  Farmer at Frodisach on the Breidafjord

  THORSTEIN ERIKSSON

  Third son of Erik and Thjodhild

  THORVALD ERIKSSON

  Second son of Erik and Thjodhild

  THURID

  Wife of Thorrod of Frodisach

  TOKE THORGESTSSON

  Son of Thorgest of Breida Farm

  TRUDE

  Sorceress (völva) in Drimore in the Hebrides; pagan and adversary of Thorgunna

  TYRKIR

  Called Know-It-All; German slave of Erik’s, and his best friend. His Christian name is Thomas.

  ULF EINARSSON

  Gode (judge) of the valleys by the western Hvammsfjord

  VALTJOF

  Lord of Valtjof Farm in Hawk Valley

  © B. Gaertner

  TILMAN ROEHRIG has been writing for over four decades. His historical novels have been his most successful, and have been translated into more than nine languages. Roehrig has received numerous awards for his work, including the Great Culture Prize of the Rhine area. He lives near Cologne, Germany.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are from the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  W1-Media, Inc.

  Arctis

  Stamford, CT, USA

  Copyright © 2021 by W1-Media Inc. for this edition

  Text Copyright © 2018 by Tilman Röhrig

  Erik der Rote oder die Suche nach dem Glück in Germany by Dressler Verlag,1999

  First English language edition published by W1-Media Inc./Arctis, 2020

  Visit our website at www.arctis-books.com

  Author website at www.tilman-roehrig.de

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2020943692

  Translation by Oliver Latsch

  Cover design by Alexander Kopainski

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publisher and copyright owner.

  ISBN 978-1-64690-603-1

  www.arctis-books.com