The All Father Paradox

by Ian Stuart Sharpe

  ENTRY EIGHT

  IT FROZE VERY HARD DURING the night. When we continued our voyage, we had not proceeded two hundred yards before an accident befell the canoe. The canoe struck on the stump of a tree, and unfortunately it was at a point where the banks were so steep that there was no place to unload. It required two hours to complete the repair, and by the time they were complete, the weather had grown dark and cloudy. A violent thunderstorm was brewing. We persevered along our course half a mile, and only at six in the evening were we compelled by the rain to land for the night. The guardsmen began to openly consider that we might have offended Frey or his Álfar by venturing too far into their realm. Herra Ljótsson remarked how, in Uppsala of old, Frey demanded dark-skinned sacrifices and suggested we see if a Skræling would serve. I politely ignored his fanciful notions.

  Upon exploring the woods, we came to an enclosure, which had been created by the Skræling for setting snares for the elk. In the morning, after we had travelled for some hours through a forest of spruce, birch, and the largest poplars I had ever seen, we sank down again upon the river where the bank was low. We were near the foot of a mountain, the river flowing in a channel of about one hundred yards broad, rushing on between perpendicular rocks.

  We then passed with some difficulty along the foot of that rock; fortunately, it was not a hard stone, and we were able to cut steps in it for the distance of twenty feet. We climbed the rocks, creeping on our hands and knees—often slipping back again. Sometimes we caught hold of bushes, sometimes small projecting stones had to suffice. Had either failed us it would likely have meant our lives.

  At one juncture, a large mass of rock broke loose from a spot above where I had just passed and struck with such force that it sent up sparks as it went. Shortly afterwards another fragment came tumbling down and so, at the risk of my life, I leaped on a small rock below, where I received those who followed me on my shoulders. In this manner, four of us passed and dragged up the canoe, in which attempt we broke her yet again. Very luckily, a dry tree had fallen from the rock above us, without which we could not have made a fire, as no wood was to be procured within a mile of the place.

  When the canoe was repaired, we continued towing it along the rocks of a high island of stone, till we came to a small sandy bay. As we had already damaged the canoe and had every reason to think that we soon would risk even greater injury, it became necessary for us to supply ourselves with bark. Two men were accordingly sent to procure it, who soon returned with the necessary store. I joked that, with all the troubles with canoes, the least Frey might do is lend us Skidbladnir, his Dvergar ship, but they looked at me very darkly in reply.

  We now continued our wearisome and perilous progress. As we ventured further, the rapidity of the current increased so that, in the course of two miles, we were obliged to unload four times and carry everything but the canoe. Indeed, in many places, it was with the utmost difficulty that we could prevent it from being dashed to pieces against the rocks by the violence of the eddies. By evening, we had proceeded to where the river was one continuous set of rapids.

  Once again, we took everything out of the canoe in order that we might tie the cargo together with a line. The agitation of the water was so great, however, that a wave striking on the bow of the canoe broke the line. We were filled with inexpressible dismay, as it appeared impossible that the vessel could escape being dashed to pieces. Another wave, however, more propitious than the first, drove her out of the tumbling water so that the men could snag her and bring her ashore, and though she had been carried over rocks by these swells, the canoe had received no material injury. The men were in such state of exhaustion that I deemed it imprudent to propose making any further progress that day—particularly as the river ahead was one white sheet of foaming water.

  The discouragements, difficulties, and dangers which had assailed us quickly soured the men’s taste for adventure. It began to be shouted about, on all sides, that there was no alternative but to return to Horg-fell. Herra Rothman and Herra Rubeck reached for their sword-belts. It always amuses me about Norsemen that, in their quarrels with each other, they quickly proceed to blows, wrestling, and drawing of swords. At these times, curses are bred by crossing the name of the most offensive animal to the object of their displeasure and appending the word “ugly,” or “mare,” or “still-born.” I, myself, might have run through Róssteinn after assailing him with the utmost fury had it not been for bystanders interfering.

  On this occasion, instead of joining in the quarrel, I charged Herra Rothman and Herra Rubeck to exert themselves in ascending the hill and establishing an encampment there for the night. In the meantime, I set off with Idotliazee, and though I continued my examination of the river almost until there was no light to assist me, I could see no end of the rapids and cascades. I knew that it would be impracticable to proceed any further by water. We returned from this reconnoitring excursion very much fatigued—our Finnar shoes worn out and our feet bleeding. Fortunately, we returned to find that, by felling trees at the foot of the first hill, my people had contrived to ascend it. Give a Viking an axe and he’ll give you the world.

  ENTRY NINE

  IT RAINED IN THE MORNING, and the downpour did not cease till about eight. As the men had been very fatigued and disheartened, I suffered them to continue their rest. Such was the state of the river, as I have already observed, that no alternative was left us; we had to devise a passage of the mountain, over which we were to carry the canoe as well as the baggage. As this was a very alarming enterprise, I dispatched Herra Kyndillson with three men and the two Skræling to proceed in a straight course from the top of the mountain, and to keep the line of the river until they found it navigable again.

  At sunset, Herra Kyndillson returned with one of the men, and in about two hours he was joined by the others. They had penetrated thick woods, ascended hills, and sunk into valleys until they travelled beyond the rapids. The two parties had returned by different routes, but they both agreed: according to their calculation, this was a distance of three leagues. Unpromising, however, as the account of their expedition appeared, they did not sink into a state of discouragement. Herra Kyndillson is a model companion and very professional soldier.

  A kettle of wild rice, sweetened with sugar, which Herra Dahl had prepared for their return, with their usual regale of rum, soon renewed everyone’s courage. We went to our rest, with a full determination to overcome the obstacles ahead on the morrow. I sat up, in the hope of getting an observation of Thor and his first companion, but the cloudy weather prevented my obtaining it. Herra Kyndillson informed me that, in passing over the mountains, he observed several chasms in the earth that emitted heat and smoke, and which diffused a strong sulphurous stench. I should certainly have visited this phenomenon—to have offered scientific conjectures or observations thereon—but did not want to be accused of seið-work. There is a fine line between being a scholar and being a magician, and I fear it was crossed even with the thesis on Finnar shamans. Let us hope time can heal such wounds.

  ENTRY TEN

  THIS MORNING, THE WEATHER WAS clear at six. I joined Herra Ljótsson and the two Skræling in the labour of cutting a road. The ground continued rising gently till noon, when it began to decline—though on such an elevated position, we could see little beyond the snow-covered mountains that ranged far above us in every direction.

  Herra Ljótsson worked alongside me and began a conversation with remarks on my extensive tuition. He further suggested that we had been undone by the wrath of malicious Nøkker and that I should find a way to appease these river trolls. He then moved onto discussing the clouds, worrying openly about how they strike the mountains in their passage over the country, carrying off stones, trees, and cattle.

  I ventured to suggest that such accidents were rather to be attributed to the force of the wind, for the clouds could not of themselves lift or carry away anything. He laughed at me, saying everyone knew of the Jötunn who takes eagle form
and sits at the end of the world, causing the wind to blow when he beats his wings in flight and, furthermore, that the clouds were solid bodies, straight from a Jötnar pipe.

  I replied, that whenever the weather is foggy I walk in clouds, and when the fog is condensed, and no longer supported in the air, it immediately rains. To all such reasoning, being above his comprehension, he only returned a sardonic smile. He reinforced his assertion with an oath of Thor, silencing me by his authority, and then laughing at my foolishness. I was judged to be mad and told that too much learning had turned my brain. For my part, I began to despair that men like Ljótsson were entitled to sit in assembly and elect kings.

  In the afternoon, the ground became very uneven, alternating between hills and deep defiles. The construction of the Serkland Raða was called to mind—and how it has been sabotaged a dozen times now. I have heard that it will never complete on time and will ruin the early investors like my father. For that reason alone, I do not think it is possible to be near-sighted when discussing the Near East. I resolved to ask Herra Audvard his Christian opinion on the Mawali. I suspect I will find him sympathetic to the Serkir. There is a complicity in all the Abrahamists, even the Gyðingar, who ought to know better.

  Though difficult, our progress quickly exceeded my expectations; however, I was in a state of fatigue that may be more readily conceived than expressed. We encamped near a rivulet that flowed from beneath a large mass of ice and snow.

  ENTRY ELEVEN

  OUR TOILSOME JOURNEY TODAY I compute at about three miles. For the first mile, the land was heavily wooded, consisting of large trees, encumbered with little underwood, and we proceeded quickly by following a well-beaten elk path. For the two succeeding miles, however, we found the country covered with the trunks of trees, laid low by fire some years ago, among which large copses had sprung up of a close growth intermixed with briars, and passage through them was painful and tedious. The spiders spread their curious mathematical webs over the trees, rendered conspicuous by the moisture with which the fog had besprinkled them. I watched Ljótsson repeatedly poke the air with his sword and grimace.

  Having found plenty of wild parsnips, we gathered the tops and boiled them with pemmican for our supper. The soil in the woods is light and of a dusky colour. In the burned areas, it is a mixture of sand and clay with small stones. The trees are spruce, red-pine, cypress, poplar, white birch, willow, alder, arrow-wood, redwood, liard, and a strange plant known in these parts as Loki’s Walking Stick. I never saw anything of the sort before. It rises to about nine feet in height, grows in joints without branches, and is tufted at each extremity. The stem is an inch in diameter, and it is covered with noxious and irritating spines—these caught our trousers, and working through them, sometimes found their way to the flesh. On inspection, it may well be that what appears to be several different plants may have all been one plant originally—when a branch touches the ground, it produces adventitious roots, and at later time the connection with the parent is severed and a new plant is produced.

  We saw beaver during the afternoon but did not discharge our pieces from the fear of alerting them to our presence. There were also swans in great numbers, with geese and ducks, which we did not disturb for the same reason. We observed also the tracks of moose-deer that had crossed the river, and wild parsnips grew here in abundance, which have been already mentioned as a grateful vegetable.

  I enquired of Keskarrah concerning the food of the beaver and was told it was the bark of trees such as birch and fir. I wonder that no naturalist has classed this animal with the mouse tribe, as its broad depressed form at first sight suggested to me that it was of that family. I confirmed this opinion having examined them further with my lens: the broad naked tail, the short obtuse ears, and the two pair of parallel front teeth, so well formed for cutting.

  ENTRY TWELVE

  THE RAIN WAS SO VIOLENT throughout the whole of today that we did not venture to proceed. I wagered that we would soon want a beaver construction of our own, but the jest met with silence. Dritvik had given way to Dritland in the eyes of the sodden Rainguard.

  As we had almost emptied the whole rum keg, and without any other requirements of active employment, I amused myself with the experiment of enclosing a letter in it and dispatching it down the stream to take its fate. I accordingly introduced a written account of all our hardships, carefully enclosed it in bark, deposited it into the small barrel by the bung-hole, and then I consigned this epistolary cargo to the mercy of the current.

  Also, I confess that, from this day to the beginning of the Sun month, the details of my voyage are sometimes omitted, as I lost the book that contained them. I was in the habit of sometimes indulging myself with a short doze in the canoe, and I imagine that the branches of the trees brushed my notes from me, which renders the account of these few days less distinct than usual.

  ENTRY THIRTEEN

  AT AN EARLY HOUR OF this morning, the men began to cut another road to carry the canoe beyond the rapids, and by seven they were ready. That business was soon completed, and the canoe reloaded to proceed with the current, which ran with great force and speed. In order to lighten her, it was my intention to walk with some of the men, but Herra Rothman and Herra Rubeck insisted that I join them, demanding that I too embark, declaring that if they perished, I should perish with them. They were convinced we were surrounded by Nøkker, creatures that would only be satisfied with a treat of three drops of blood.

  I did not then imagine in how short a time their apprehension would be justified. We accordingly pushed off and had proceeded almost nowhere at all when the canoe struck a rock. The violence of the current was so great as to drive her sideways down the river and smash her against the first bar. I jumped into the water, and the men followed my example. Before we could set her straight, or stop her, we came to deeper water and were obliged by the grasping hands of the river trolls to hurriedly climb back aboard. We had barely regained our seats when we drove hard against a rock that shattered the stern of the canoe, leaving the boat held together only by the gunwales. The violence of the impact ricocheted us to the opposite side of the river, where the bow met with the same destructive fate as the stern.

  At this moment, Rothman seized on some branches of a small tree in the hope of arresting the canoe, but such was their elasticity that, in a manner not easily described, he was catapulted to the shore in an instant—and with a degree of velocity that suggested the Valkyries would be hard pressed to catch him. We had no time to turn from our own situation to see where, or indeed if, he landed; for in a few moments, we came across another cascade which broke several large holes in the bottom of the canoe.

  In hindsight, if this accident had not happened, the vessel would have been irretrievably capsized and lost—as it was, the wreck lay flat and level with the water. We all jumped out a second time while Rothman, who had not recovered from his fright, called out to his companions to save themselves at all costs from the swarms of Nøkker that were inevitably coming to drown us.

  I came to my senses first and insisted they all held fast to the wreck instead, to which fortunate resolution we owed our safety, as we should otherwise have been dashed against the rocks by the force of the water or driven over the cascades. In the event, we were forced several hundred yards downriver, every yard on the verge of destruction; but at length, we most thankfully arrived in shallow water. Here, at last, we could stand and rest the weight of the canoe on stones without fear of being swept away.

  This alarming scene, with all its terrors and dangers, lasted only a few minutes. We called to the people on shore to come to our assistance, and they immediately obeyed the summons. Herra Rothman was the first with us; he had escaped unhurt from the extraordinary jerk with which he was hurled from the boat. Keskarrah, when he saw our deplorable situation, instead of making the least effort to help us, sat down and gave vent to great gales of laughter.

  I remained outside of the canoe until everything was on the shore, a
lbeit in a state of great pain from the extreme cold of the water, and at length, I collapsed from the benumbed state of my limbs. Our losses proved considerable, consisting of our whole stock of balls, and some of our bedding, along with the Tabul pieces—but these considerations were forgotten in the light of our miraculous escape. We had sustained no personal injury of consequence.

  All our articles were now spread out to dry. The powder had fortunately received no damage, and all my instruments had escaped. Indeed, when my people began to recover from their alarm, and to enjoy a sense of safety, Ljótsson remarked that he was by no means sorry for our recent misfortune because it must finally put an end to our voyage, particularly as we were without a canoe, and all the bullets sunk in the river. It did not seem possible to them that we could proceed under these circumstances. I listened to the observations made without offering a reply till their panic was dispelled and they had got themselves warm and comfortable—with a hearty meal, and rum enough to raise their spirits and ward off the river trolls for good.

  I then addressed them by recommending them all to be thankful for their very narrow escape. I also stated, with peremptory command, that the navigation was not impracticable in itself. I further suggested that our experiences would enable us to continue with greater understanding. I brought to their recollection their oaths and the fact that they were made acquainted with the difficulties and dangers they must expect to encounter before they engaged to accompany me and, finally, that they had been handsomely paid. I also reminded them of the honour of conquering disasters and of the disgrace that would attend them on their return home were we to surrender now. Nor did I fail to mention the courage and resolution which was the eternal boast of the Northmen. I quietened their apprehension as to the loss of the bullets by bringing to their recollection that we still had blades that our forefathers had sharpened for this occasion. At the same time, I acknowledged the difficulty of restoring the wreck of the canoe, but I extolled our skills in building a new and better one. In short, my haranguing produced the desired effect—a general agreement that, if the Nornir had not cut our thread today, then they might not until we were old and white-bearded.