by Blake Smith
By the Light of the Moon
By Blake Smith
Cover Design by Sarah A. Hoyt
Copyright 2017 by Blake Smith
Digital Edition
License Notes
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Chapter One
Southern Finland, land of the Suomi, during the time of Pope Gregory IX
It was sheer chance that Aatu saw the ships. Two of them, long and thin with square sails spread wide to catch the faint breeze. They looked like child’s toys in the distance as they drifted toward shore, fighting the slack tide and the confusing eddies that seemed to provide an open channel only to vanish into a sandbar at the worst possible moment.
But there was no time to think of the mysterious ships. He needed his full attention for the hunt. It was early winter and though food was still plentiful, everyone was tired of herring. They’d eaten little else all summer, and fresh reindeer would be welcome if only they could kill one.
Aatu had been assigned to wait. For the past few years, he’d helped the others herd a reindeer into the tender embrace of the killing spears, but now that he’d grown into manhood, his task was to kill the deer. He and his friend Onni were large and strong enough to spear the animal and wrestle it to the ground if it didn’t go down easily, so they were waiting, concealed in the underbrush ten paces apart. A few flakes of snow drifted down onto his hood. He ignored them.
A mouse scuttled over the snow then dove into its hole. A raven flew overhead. Aatu’s feet grew cold with inactivity, and he carefully tucked his hands inside his furred coat so they wouldn’t suffer in the same way. He couldn’t see Onni, but he knew that his friend was growing impatient. Onni was loud and joyous, and hadn’t yet mastered the art of waiting.
Aatu could wait forever. This time, he didn’t have to.
The first sign was the low rumble of hooves, barely more than a tremor in the earth. Three, perhaps four reindeer, by Aatu’s guess. Then the higher pitched crunch of the hooves breaking through the snow. A whiff of the animals’ scent on the breeze. Still he waited.
The herd came down the path at a trot, wary but not panicked by human pursuit. Veikko and the rest of the herders must have been very careful not to startle the beasts as they funneled them onto the path. Aatu understood the strategy even if made his task harder. A wary reindeer was harder to kill than one in a blind panic, but frightened reindeer tended to scatter in all directions.
The bull came first, magnificent head held high, his breath frosting the air. The trees brushed his antlers like a final benediction. Aatu waited.
The herd was nearly on top of them before he moved. He’d chosen a spot on the edge of the path where he was concealed from the reindeer but not so far away that he had to scramble through bushes to get to them, and the plan worked perfectly.
He erupted from his hiding spot fast as a lightning strike and drove his spear into the bull’s chest with all his strength. On his right, Onni had done the same; there was no need for a signal between men who’d hunted together since boyhood.
The bull bellowed in surprise and pain, and Aatu ducked as the rack of antlers swung in his direction. If he’d been a second slower, he would have been impaled on their points. As it was, he felt the impact on his shoulder.
Aatu had learned that time and sensation moved oddly when he was hunting. There was the slow crawl of heartbeats as he waited for his prey, the more rapid moments of the chase, and then the actual kill. He saw in flashes of vivid clarity and heard the bull’s snorting breath like a slow drumbeat. The bull’s coat was stained with blood, brilliant red against the gray winter world, but he had no memory of how it had gotten there. He had time to notice the stamping hooves beating a frantic rhythm against the earth, the excited cries of his fellow hunters, the flash of Onni’s black hair in the weak sun. The weight of the spear in his hand. The mournful bellow of the dying reindeer. The moment the spark of life left its brown eyes.
Time abruptly snapped back to normal. Aatu’s heart hammered in his chest and his breath came in short, sharp gasps. His right shoulder hurt but the pain was insignificant in the face of success. He looked at Onni, wondering if his own face mirrored his friend’s manic grin.
“Well done,” they said at the same time as they pulled and twisted their spears out of the bull, laughing now that the danger was over.
The other hunters were within speaking distance, and now that Aatu had enough attention for things not in his immediate vicinity, he noted that Veikko and the others had managed to bring down a second reindeer in the confusion. It was a young cow, not nearly as big as the bull, but it was food. The entire village would eat well.
The ritual of congratulating each other and thanking the spirits of the reindeer for their sacrifice was as familiar to Aatu as breathing. There would be more celebrating and more prayers said when they returned to the village, but a simple moment of gratitude would suffice for now.
In summertime, when the days were long, they would have dressed the reindeer where they fell, leaving the organs for the wolves and white foxes that gathered around every successful hunt. But night came on quickly this time of year, so they bound the beasts’ hooves, threaded spears through them, and began the trek home. They would reach the village before dark if they hurried.
They went in single file, anonymous in their fur-lined winter gear now that Onni had drawn his hood back up against the cold. As the heroes of the hunt, Aatu and Onni walked near the front of their procession, unburdened by their prize and following only Veikko, who claimed the lead because of his age and rank.
Their path took them over a small hill and Aatu glanced aside at the sea as he walked. It lay to the south and west, an expanse of gray stretching as far as he could see. Small white waves danced over its surface, driven by the wind that carried the smell of seaweed to the hunters. It looked peaceful, but he’d fished its waters for years and knew the calm was deceptive.
And the ships were still there. They’d found their way through the channels and, as Aatu watched, ran the bows up onto the sandy beach. Veikko saw it too, and raised one hand to signal a halt. Everyone stopped and squatted close to the ground so as not to be seen.
In the few minutes they watched, the ships became a swarm of men, some scrambling up onto the shore, others tossing shields and spears from the ships to their comrades on land, still others steadying the nervous brown horses tied in the cargo hold.
“They have horses,” Aatu murmured. “Who brings horses to this part of the world in the winter?”
“Someone who wants a fight,” Veikko said.
Aatu couldn’t disagree; he’d seen the bright flash of swords and spear points. “But who are they?” he asked.
“Sword-Brothers,” Veikko answered. “See the red sword and cross on their shields?” Before Aatu could say that, yes, he did see them, Veikko gripped his shoulder and said, “Come away. We don’t want to be seen.”
The hunters crept along the path, carefully skirting the haunted fortress and dropping down behind the ridge whenever possible. Aatu hid his worry. Veikko was one of the bravest men he knew, yet he was choosing to hide from these Sword-Brothers.
As they dipped below the ridge for the time, Aatu glanced back to see a strange thing. Four men in long brown robes were standing on the beach before the rest of the men an
d facing their comrades; each held a spear shaft with a crosspiece but no head.
The brown-robed men spread their arms wide, and as though it had been a signal, the rest of the men knelt, some on the rocky shore, others in their places on the ships. Every one of them, robed leaders included, made a strange gesture with their right hands, touching his own forehead, breast, and each shoulder. Perhaps they meant to avert evil spirits? Aatu made his own gesture to avert evil. He never thought of himself as a pious man, but only a fool would antagonize the spirits that lived in every animal, tree, and river.
And only time would tell if the newcomers were fools, or not.
Chapter Two
The ships and their inhabitants were driven from Aatu’s mind as the hunters neared the village. Most of the adults were waiting to welcome them despite the cold, leaving only the littlest children and oldest grandmothers inside where it was warm.
Most of the young men had helped in the hunt, so every household got a share of the reindeer. The women quickly got to work, using skinning knives and hand-axes in concert to butcher the deer and fend off an occasional hungry dog that got too close.
Aatu and the other men stood away from the butchering, not caring to interfere with a group of armed women on a mission. In between laughing and talking about the hunt with his friends, he kept a sharp eye out for his women.
There was Taika, his betrothed. The hair under her hood was brown that turned red in the sun, and she was possibly the most graceful creature he’d ever seen. Even when she was hacking through reindeer ribs and getting covered in blood, he thought she was beautiful. She happened to glance up, caught his eye, and smiled. Aatu promptly lost the thread of whatever he was saying to Onni and got a mock glare and a bit of perfunctory teasing for his trouble. As Taika’s brother, Onni was supposed to disapprove of her future husband, even if only in fun.
He fended off Onni’s jests with the skill of long practice and looked around for Sinikka. There she was, trimming the bull’s hide of any leftover bits of flesh that might cling to the skin and make it rot. She, too, looked up and smiled at him.
It was as if the sun had come out from behind a cloud. His sister rarely showed her feelings to anyone.
Not now, anyway. Sinikka had been a happy child until the death of their parents in the sickness the year before. Now she was nearly silent. Even Onni found it hard to make her smile, though she insisted that she still wanted to marry him when spring came. Aatu was hopeful that an affectionate husband, a household to care for, and perhaps children of her own would restore his sister to her usual sweet temper. He’d done his best to be brother, father, and mother to her, but comforting a grief-stricken girl of fifteen had been utterly beyond his abilities.
Taika had been a godsend in those times. Though only a year older than Sinikka, she had taken the other girl under her protection, helping her care for the house and livestock, making sure that she ate and slept when needed. Aatu had only thought of her as Onni’s pesky little sister, but she’d grown into a lovely young woman when he wasn’t paying attention, and no one was surprised when he finally worked up the courage to ask for her hand in marriage. He was only surprised that she’d accepted him. Summer was the time for weddings, so they were reluctantly waiting until then.
Once the messy job of butchering was finished, the workers moved toward the headman’s longhouse in a shapeless mass of people. The longhouse was the only place large enough in the village for even half of the people to gather inside. The inside was smoky and dim, but it was warm, and became warmer as the women crowded inside, having stopped at their homes to strip off their bloodied outer clothes and fetch whatever food and drink they had on hand for the impromptu feast.
Before everyone was released to their fun, the shaman had one last task to perform. Akka had been at the butchering, praying over the spirits of the slaughtered reindeer, and now she took a piece of the meat, held it aloft over the fire, and intoned a prayer in a language Aatu didn’t understand. The meat was flung onto the fire and a delicious smell permeated the longhouse. Aatu’s stomach rumbled. Onni nudged him, smirking. He nudged him back, trying and failing to keep a straight face. If they were lucky, the spirits wouldn’t think they were being disrespectful.
Prayers said, sacrifice conducted, all that remained to make it a proper feast was to eat and talk. There was plenty of both. Reindeer meat, fish, bread, plenty of birch ale, and good company was an excellent way to finish the day. Aatu meandered here and there, talking with his neighbors and with the other hunters for a few minutes before he found himself in a relatively unoccupied corner- no small feat in such a crowded room. People were sitting on the sleeping pallets and practically standing on the hearthstones, there was so little space.
Taika slid under his arm and snuggled against his side, smiling up at him. “They’re saying you were the hero of the hunt,” she said.
He shrugged, pretending nonchalance. “Your brother helped, too. A little.” Taika raised one eyebrow and the smile turned into a smirk. Aatu returned the look then stole a kiss when he thought no one was looking.
Taika poked him in the ribs. “So, tell me what happened,” she persisted.
Aatu didn’t need any more encouragement than that. The story grew a little in the telling- the reindeer came upon the hunters a bit faster, the bull put up more of a fight- but he carefully left out any mention of the mysterious ships. And Taika didn’t need to know that he’d been raked by the bull’s antlers- his shoulder barely ached now, though he knew it would be sore the next day.
Taika was a good audience, gasping and exclaiming at all the right moments, and everyone within earshot was well entertained until some of her friends dragged her away for some sort of urgent womanly business that seemed to involve mostly giggling and shooting covert looks at the men. Well, Aatu wasn’t about to complain; he and the other men were doing the same to the women, with less giggling.
“Aatu.” Veikko summoned him from the crowd.
“What is it?” he asked.
“I’m going to tell my brother about the Sword-Brothers. I want you to hear what he says.”
Aatu nodded. He was very interested to hear what the headman thought of the new arrivals. Luckily for his curiosity, his father had been a high-ranking elder and when he’d died the previous year, Aatu had inherited part of his social standing.
Nyyrikki sat in the place of honor, opposite the door and near to the central fire, as was his right as headman. He was taller than his brother, and though Aatu wasn’t afraid of him, he bowed respectfully as they came near. He couldn’t help a smile when he saw Onni trailing along behind them and standing within earshot of the headman’s chair. His friend’s curiosity was legendary, second only to his own.
Veikko was higher ranking than he, so Aatu was silent as he spoke of the ships and the odd ceremony they’d witnessed on the beach. Nyyrikki, always serious and taciturn, looked positively grim by the end of his brother’s explanation.
“They couldn’t have come at a worse time,” Nyyrikki said darkly. “The exact moment our stores are gathered and winter is setting in, and they have to land on our shores.”
“But who are the Sword-Brothers?” Aatu wanted to know, when Nyyrikki didn’t elaborate. “I’ve never heard of them.”
“They’re Christian warriors from the south,” Veikko said.
“I thought Christians were supposed to be peaceful,” he said, though his knowledge of Christians didn’t extend much further than that. He knew they prayed to only one god- which was ridiculous; how could any one god keep track of the entire world?- and their symbol was two crossed sticks- also ridiculous; a man’s personal symbol should be something strong, like a wolf or bear. He had a vague feeling that a long-ago human sacrifice was part of the Christian religion, and they’d become peaceful after that. But he had to admit, if only to himself, that his knowledge of Christians was rather hazy. They didn’t come to the Suomi very often, not even to trade, so he’d never needed to know a
nything about them.
Not anymore.
“Most Christians are as peaceful as any other people,” Nyyrikki said. “But some of them are warriors, and they fight in the name of their god. In the south, they’ve tried to force others to convert to their religion- they believe we’ll all burn in a lake of fire when we die, unless we become Christians.”
“But that’s not right,” Onni burst out, speaking completely out of turn. “When we die, our bodies are buried and our spirits are born into a new life.”
“I know that,” Nyyrikki said, frowning at the interruption. “But Christians believe something else. Their king, Pope Gregory, has told them to make as many new Christians as possible, by whatever means.”
“But they have only one god,” Aatu pointed out. “The spirits will be angry if we abandon them for a single god, and I know that I’d much rather keep them happy. Anyone who’s passed under the great birch tree on the edge of my farm knows what I mean,” he added lightly. Perhaps a mild jest would take away Onni’s stormy look.
It worked. Everyone had experienced the moods of the birch spirit, who rattled its branches angrily at the sight of an axe but gave the gift of its long yellow catkins to happy children. Even Onni smiled at the mention of the birch.
The dark mood began seeping back into the discussion when Veikko said, “If these Sword-Brothers think to make Christians of us, who can say how angry the spirits might be? And once the Sword-Brothers are gone, we’ll have to live with the angry spirits they’ve stirred up.”
“We should fight them,” Onni growled.
Aatu touched his shoulder. “Onni, careful.” Sinikka was watching them intently, her blue eyes gleaming in the firelight.
Onni unbent a little. “I still think we should fight them.”
“Not until I know more about their purpose,” Nyyrikki said sternly. “Stay away from them until I say so. Or Veikko will give the orders,” he added, since it was well known that Nyyrikki handled the peaceful governance of the village, and Veikko took charge of hunting and war- anything to do with violence.