by Blake Smith
Nyyrikki was drawn into another conversation shortly after, dismissing Aatu with a nod. He wandered away, looking for Taika and not expecting to find her in the crowd. Onni followed him.
“What if they attack us?” Onni said, like there had been no interruption.
“Veikko will have set guards to watch them,” he said, hoping it was true. He trusted Veikko’s abilities, but he remembered the last time the village had been caught off-guard by hostile warriors. He’d been a child at the time, and the memory of a burning house collapsing in a shower of sparks had never left him. Visions of twisted corpses lying in the street had intruded on his sleep for months afterward, and he would give most of what he owned to see that horror never repeated.
“I don’t want to watch them,” Onni snapped. “I want them gone.”
“I know. Don’t do anything stupid,” he said as Sinikka appeared out of nowhere at Onni’s side.
“What did Nyyrikki want?” she asked, her voice a tiny thread of sound in the babble of conversation around them.
“We saw two ships land on the beach this afternoon,” Onni said darkly. “About a hundred men. Nyyrikki wants us to stay away from them.”
“Are they dangerous?” she asked.
“Yes. Even if they haven’t attacked us yet. Don’t go anywhere alone for the next few days,” Onni said, then glanced at Aatu. “I’m sorry, Aatu; it’s not my place to give orders to your sister.”
“Not for another few months, anyway,” he said, smiling. “But you’re right. It might be dangerous. Please be careful,” he said to Sinikka.
“I will,” she promised. Before she could say anything else, Taika and her friends whisked her away into their laughing conversation, leaving Onni and Aatu to wonder how long the happiness would last.
Chapter Three
The longhouse was slightly less crowded two days later, when Veikko hauled Aatu away from feeding cattle, down the road to the village, and into the warmth of the house. They narrowly avoided the six horses and their riders waiting outside, speeding past the stamping hooves and pretending not to notice the glares of the men, all of whom wore shining mail under their cloaks and carried white shields painted with the red sword and cross.
“Sword-Brothers,” he murmured. “What are they doing here?”
“They’ve come to see Nyyrikki,” Veikko said. “He wants all of our men to hear what they have to say.”
The longhouse was shadowy after the bright morning sun. Aatu stumbled over a basket on the floor and stopped, blinked away the green and purple spots dancing before his eyes until he could see again. Most of his neighbors were standing around Nyyrikki, who was seated in his usual place. As Aatu and Veikko joined them, a few more trickled in, sliding around the large, bearded stranger waiting next to the door.
Aatu assumed the stranger was a leader of the Sword-Brothers, but he couldn’t imagine why he came so armed and guarded. The men outside had looked ready for a fight, and this man was no less warlike. A bright sword hung at his hip, and the scar on the bridge of his nose said he knew how to use it.
“I have assembled the men of the village to hear your words,” Nyyrikki said to the man once everyone was listening. “Tell us your purpose in coming here.”
“We come in peace to speak to you, great headman of the Suomi,” the bear-like man said grandly, spreading his arms wide and bowing. He spoke with an accent, but Aatu understood him well enough to dislike his empty flattery.
“I am pleased to hear what our guests have to say,” Nyyrikki answered. It was the formal response to any petition, and Aatu hoped he saw through the pretty words.
“Thank you, lord,” the man said, bowing again. “I am Volkwin son of Valdemar, and I am the leader of the men whom you have so graciously welcomed. We are of the Livonian Brothers of the Sword- a small part of the Order, it must be said, but we are under their leadership. We have been fighting your enemies in Livonia for two years, and need to rest. We ask your permission to stop here for a time.”
“If you are truly peaceful, you may rest here,” Nyyrikki said. “But you’ve chosen a poor time of year to build a new camp. Winter is upon us. The earth will freeze soon and building will be impossible.”
“But there’s an abandoned fort nearby,” Volkwin argued. “My men are strong workers; they could have it ready to inhabit in a few days. We would live on our ship until that time.”
An anxious murmur rose from the room. Nyyrikki said, “That fort is the domain of unfriendly spirits. We avoid disturbing them whenever possible. They’re quite violent when provoked.”
Volkwin shook his head. “We are Christian men. We do not fear evil spirits. I will send priests to remove these spirits from the fort, and we will live peacefully within its walls.”
“And the spirits will enter my village and torment my people,” Nyyrikki said coldly. “No. I will not allow it. You may camp within sight of your ships, but do not enter the fort.”
Volkwin bowed again. It may have been a trick of the firelight, but Aatu thought he saw a flash of fury on the big man’s face. “It is as you say, lord,” Volkwin said. “We will take care not to disturb these spirits,” he added, laying a faint sneering emphasis on the last word.
Nyyrikki heard it, too; Aatu knew him well enough to read the glare in his dark eyes, but he merely said, “We are grateful for your forbearance.”
“I will ask one more favor of you, great leader,” Volkwin said after a short pause. “My priests have begged that they might come into your village and preach the Word of the Lord, who died so that all men might be saved from eternal torment. They are eager to instruct all men in the ways of our God, who loves all mankind. Will you allow them this small favor? They must earn their keep somehow, and what better way to do it than teaching?” he said lightly.
“Surely your priests are needed among their own men,” Nyyrikki said, and it wasn’t a suggestion. “Once you are settled into your camp, you may come to me and we will revisit the issue. Until then, I will not allow them into the village. Nor may your men come here, except as messengers.”
Volkwin was obviously displeased by the order, but he nodded and didn’t bring up the subject again in the rest of the time he spoke with Nyyrikki. They discussed land boundaries and hunting grounds, and Volkwin promised to keep his men away from the places the villagers frequented. The guests were offered use of the salt spring nearby and told to cut their firewood from an overgrown part of the forest.
Aatu didn’t like it. Nyyrikki wasn’t being overly hospitable, but he hadn’t asked Volkwin how long they planned to stay. And offering use of the village’s resources was a courtesy normally extended to very temporary guests. The coast had no shortage of lost fishermen and merchants, so the village was accustomed in times of plenty to offering food and shelter to small groups of people for a few days at a time while they repaired their ships or waited for a storm to cease. But the Sword-Brothers numbered nearly a hundred, and Aatu would eat his boots if they left peacefully after a few days rest.
Volkwin departed shortly after, with many bows and compliments and a final benediction of ‘God bless you and your people, great headman!’ to which Nyyrikki merely nodded an acknowledgement. Aatu’s suspicions didn’t abate when he watched them go. Volkwin and his men were mounted on tall, fierce looking war horses and they handled their weapons with the ease of men born to soldiering. They galloped through the village, paying little attention to the few people who had to scramble out of their way. Aatu had only their word that they would go back to their ships.
They moved too fast for him to follow, so he went back into the long house and sought out Nyyrikki. “My lord,” he said formally, “may I speak with you?”
“Certainly. Come this way, so no one will disturb us,” Nyyrikki said, gesturing that he should follow.
They found an unoccupied corner of the longhouse and Nyyrikki faced him. “What is it?”
“I trust your wisdom,” he began. “You’ve never led us into ruin
. But you allow the Sword-Brothers to stay. And that man disrespected you. He pretended to be courteous, but all I saw was mockery.”
“I know. And I dislike his rudeness. But I’ve heard of this man Volkwin,” Nyyrikki growled. “He was accused of corruption and brutality, and thrown out of the tribe of the Sword-Brothers. Now he pretends to be a Sword-Brother, because people are afraid of them, but he’s no better than an outlaw.”
“Then he’s probably lying,” Aatu said. “He doesn’t want a temporary camp and he doesn’t want us to be Christians; he just wants an excuse to steal our food and carry off our women.”
“It’s very likely. He’s dangerous, not a man we should make our enemy.”
“We should throw them out before they gain a foothold on your land,” he argued. “Wait until dark, then ambush them.”
Nyyrikki nodded slowly. “We’ll see them gone. But we must wait for the right moment.”
“And when will that be?” Aatu demanded. “When our homes are taken from us? When our food is gone? When our wives and daughters are raped by those animals? Every day we wait, the risk of a fight grows greater, and you know as well as I that a simple argument can turn into a battle at a moment’s notice.”
“Yes, I do know,” Nyyrikki snapped. “And I don’t need you to remind me. By rights we should kill them all, but the problem is not so easily solved as that. They outnumber us. A battle against them would go badly for us.” Aatu opened his mouth to protest, but Nyyrikki held up a hand to forestall him. “I’ll consult with Akka and see what she thinks. Until then, stay away from the Sword-Brothers.”
Aatu nodded obediently. There was nothing else he could do, and he trusted Akka’s wisdom. Even if he didn’t, he wasn’t stupid enough to insult a shaman by doubting her abilities. Taika would laugh if Akka turned him into a mouse as punishment for impertinence, but Sinikka might cry, and Aatu didn’t want that.
Chapter Four
Aatu had promised not to bother the Sword-Brothers, but that didn’t stop him from scouting their camp. The next evening found him crouched on a hilltop, unfortunately downwind of the newcomers. By the smells emanating from their camp, they had been at sea and unable to clean their ships for a long time.
Aatu reluctantly observed that Volkwin was right. The Sword-Brothers were extremely fast workers. He assumed they had begun to build their camp before asking permission, but even so, the three wooden huts had sprouted from the earth with astonishing rapidity. Sixty-three horses roamed about in a fenced-off area of the camp, kept well away from the large huts and confined by a palisade twice the height of a man. The palisade ran all the way around the camp, its ends overlapping. It seemed a formidable fortification until Aatu looked closer and realized that only a few of the upright trees were sunk into the half-frozen ground. Most rested on the surface, held up by a series of crossbars that ran from one post to the next.
The camp wasn’t yet a fortress, but the Sword-Brothers would strengthen it given enough time. Aatu could see only one reason for delaying an attack, namely that the camp was made of green wood and it would burn more easily if given time to dry.
A strange, sweet smell drifted on the air. Aatu looked for its source, careful not to move quickly and give his position away. After a moment of searching, he saw two of the brown-robed men clambering up the slope a hundred paces away. One carried a cross that he used like a staff; the other, an object rather like a little silver basket on the end of a chain. Aatu had never seen such a thing before.
Smoke curled from the edges of the basket, the source of the odd smell. Curious, Aatu crept closer. The robed men didn’t notice him; they were too intent on gaining the crest of the hill. Aatu stilled when he realized their destination.
They were going to the abandoned fort. Suddenly he understood. These men were Christian shamans- priests, he thought they were called- and they were going to remove the spirits that lived in the fort.
If they had a way to remove the spirits and prevent them from finding new homes in the village, Aatu would have blessed the men and helped them however he could. But Akka had already tried to remove the spirits, and so had the shaman before her. They’d failed each time. The one time Akka had managed to persuade a few of the dead to leave, the newly-homeless spirits had entered the village, bringing with them a sickness that carried away Aatu’s mother and father along with a dozen other people.
Now these priests wanted to do the same. And there was nothing he could do to stop them. His mind rapidly tumbled over the possibilities- kill both of them, scare them away from the fort, knock them down the slope and back to their camp- but he kept bumping up against Nyyrikki’s orders. He was not to antagonize the Sword-Brothers. Nyyrikki had insisted, and it would take a braver man than he to ignore the headman of the village.
So he watched. The priests finally scrambled up the icy stone steps into the fort, pushing past its half-rotted wooden gates. There was a brief silence, then they began chanting, their voices echoing oddly in the inner space of the fort, where there was a roofless longhouse and a partly collapsed watchtower. Aatu didn’t understand their tongue but he sensed the power in the words. The Christian god had some power, he conceded, but he didn’t think it was enough to cleanse the fort of dead and angry men who’d been bones for longer than anyone could remember.
A cloud blotted out the sun, reminding Aatu that dusk was coming and he had chores awaiting him at home. Cursing the Sword-Brothers and wishing he had the strength of a hundred men, he stepped into the bindings of his skis and swished away from his hiding spot, certain that no one had seen him come or go.
Later that night, he was repairing a broken axe when someone knocked on the door. Sinikka jumped at the noise and Aatu leaped up to open it. Veikko was there, stamping his feet with impatience and cold.
“Are you doing anything you can’t put down? No? Good. Come with me,” Veikko said before Aatu could greet him.
“What’s happening?’ he asked, bewildered, as he seized his coat from its hook on the back of the door.
“Akka wants to speak to us,” Veikko said. He peered around Aatu and smiled at Sinikka. “Don’t worry, little one, I’ll bring him back safely.”
Aatu wasn’t reassured - Veikko wouldn’t say something like that unless there was a chance of danger- but Sinikka nodded and went back to her spinning as Veikko dragged Aatu out the door.
The shaman had a little house at the opposite edge of the village that she often used for ceremonies, but Veikko led him to the headman’s house and entered without knocking.
The longhouse had been transformed. Instead of a great open space, it was now hung with skins to make many little rooms. The fire had been stoked up so the flames leaped toward the roof rafters and cast flickering shadows all around the space. Akka squatted on the other side of the hearth, casting herbs into the flames and muttering to the gods. She stood up and her one eye focused intently on Aatu as he came into the light.
“This is the last one, my lady,” Veikko said, bowing respectfully.
“Good. Now we can begin,” Akka said. Aatu shivered at the strange timbre in her voice. The last time he’d dealt with the shaman, she’d been conducting the burial rites for his mother.
Veikko led him to one of the alcoves. It was small and the only thing inside was a sleeping pallet covered with hides. “In here,” was all he said.
Aatu grabbed Veikko’s shoulder before he could walk away. “What’s happening?” he asked again.
Veikko must have heard his voice tremble, because he clapped Aatu on the back and nearly smiled. “Akka is going to perform a ritual. She says she can make us faster and stronger, so we can fight the Sword-Brothers. The rite is dangerous, but there is a way to bring you back to your senses. Someone will call your name and offer you a piece of bread. You must eat it, or you’ll be lost to us forever,” Veikko instructed. When Aatu frowned and didn’t answer immediately, he seized him by the scruff of his neck and glared into his eyes. “Do you understand me? People w
ill die and you will have to be killed if you don’t follow my orders.”
“I understand,” Aatu said, taken aback by the other man’s sudden ferocity.
“Good,” Veikko said, and turned away.
“What are you going to do to me?” he asked Veikko’s back.
Veikko stopped and slowly faced him. His eyes burned with a strange intensity. “It’s best you don’t know,” he said, his voice surprisingly gentle. “But it won’t kill you, and you’ll be better able to fight our enemies.” He left, letting the leather curtain swing shut behind him.
Aatu was left in darkness. He sat down on the pallet, breathing deeply so he wouldn’t panic and upset the rite. Stopping the shaman in the middle of one of her ceremonies was often more dangerous than allowing her to continue. The spirits didn’t usually mind Akka’s summons, but sending them back to whence they’d came was more difficult.
Akka’s chanting was louder now. Or maybe she was closer to him. Aatu’s mind grew foggy from the perfumed smoke. There was a soft thump from the other side of the alcove wall, then another from the opposite side. He was too calm to wonder what had caused the sounds.
He wasn’t sure when his eyes fell shut and was vaguely aware when he curled up on the pallet. The chanting was softer now, the words running together unintelligibly. Aatu didn’t care. He was asleep.
Chapter Five
Aatu came back to his senses slowly. Smell was first to return; the dry wood and cool stone of the house, the hides he lay upon. He could even smell the urine used to tan the leather. The sweet remnants of the herbs Akka had burned during the ritual. And something else, a warm scent that was so familiar he couldn’t describe it.
He was next aware of slow, deep breaths- his own. Then of the soft pit-pat of footsteps outside the longhouse. Some part of his mind noted that he’d never before been able to smell or hear so clearly.