by Anna Ciddor
‘Oddo, you’re being silly,’ said Sigrid.
Oddo flung off her arm. ‘You never reckon I can do anything!’ He ran out of the room.
Sigrid turned to Thora. ‘You talk to him,’ she said. ‘Make him see sense.’
Reluctantly, Thora followed Oddo. He’d be embarrassed that she’d seen what little confidence his mother had in him. But Sigrid was right. Oddo didn’t have the strength or experience to take The Cormorant to sea. Although . . . Thora thought of the pasture full of roughly shorn sheep. She remembered Oddo’s white face as he clung to the cliff, eyes shut and teeth clenched. She thought of his magic powers. Maybe if they did it together . . .
‘I wonder,’ thought Thora, ‘if I could go with him on the boat.’
18
Thora’s decision
The days passed and Bolverk showed no sign of waking. Every mealtime, Sigrid mushed up food and pushed it between her husband’s lips to keep him alive. Every morning, as soon as Oddo woke up, he glanced towards his parents’ bed, hoping to see Bolverk open his eyes. But he never did.
‘I used to wish he’d stop yelling at me,’ he told Thora. ‘Now I’d give anything to hear him yelling again. That would mean he was better! I feel so terrible seeing him lying there, and knowing it’s my fault. Oh, why did I ever mess around with spells? I wish I wasn’t magic!’
‘Never wish that!’ Thora exclaimed.‘You’re so lucky to be magic. It lets you do all sorts of good things.’
‘Yeah, like what? Like stopping me hoeing? Like giving me bad luck if I chop down trees? Like making my father sick?’
‘How about shape-changing? Aren’t you glad you can do that?’
‘No! If I hadn’t done a shape-change when I lost my runestone I wouldn’t have found it again, and I wouldn’t have cast that rotten spell! I’m never doing any more magic ever again.’
‘We’ll see,’ said Thora.
But Oddo was stubborn. When he came in drenched from a downpour, Thora looked at him in astonishment.
‘Why didn’t you tell the rain to go away?’ she queried.
‘I told you. I’m not doing magic any more,’ growled Oddo.
But he went on preparing things for market. He went out on the river again, and Thora’s hands grew red and sore rubbing salt into the big pile of fish he caught. He worked hard on the boat, patching the tiniest leaks, oiling the wood and the oars. Sigrid watched him, grim-faced.
‘Oddo, I can’t let you go to market,’ she kept saying. ‘It’s far too dangerous.’
The summer days grew longer and longer. Each evening Thora worked in her secret garden. She pulled out weeds, struggled up and down the tunnel with her bag of water, and marvelled over the tiny leaves emerging one by one from the delicate stalks of her seedlings.
As she worked, she thought about Oddo’s plans to go to market. Sigrid might let him go if Thora said she would go with him. But Thora didn’t want to go. All her precious baby plants would die if she left them for days on end without any water. And anyway, being alone on that little boat in the middle of the sea . . . Thora remembered the angry waves lashing the cliffs on the beach. But then she thought of Oddo’s determined face. And she imagined how it would split into his bright toothy grin if she offered to keep him company.
‘I’ve got to find a way to go,’ she exclaimed, ripping out a weed and tearing it to bits.
One evening as she knelt in her garden, staring at her plants and wondering what to do, she heard the voices of her youngest brothers playing in the wood on the other side of the brambles. Suddenly, she had an idea.
‘Father,’ asked Thora at supper that night, ‘have you ever been to market?’
‘No,’ Runolf shook his head. ‘It’s never been my destiny to sail the seas,’ he said.
‘I’m thinking of going with Oddo in his boat,’ said Thora casually.
‘Can I come too?’ asked Erik excitedly.
‘There wouldn’t be room for you,’ said Thora. She was watching her father for his reaction. Would he say she could go?
‘Since you’re magic,’ said Runolf, biting at a piece of dried seaweed,‘the dangers of sea travel are no concern of yours. You can call on spells to protect you.’
Finnhilda nodded.
‘It will be lots of fun for you, Thora!’
Thora stared at them. It really didn’t occur to them that she wasn’t magic!
She tried to go on eating but she found she could hardly swallow. She realised she’d actually been hoping her parents wouldn’t give her permission. Now she had no excuse not to go.
Granny was practical, as usual.
‘You’ll need a magic cloak, eh, to stop you from drowning!’ she said. ‘In case you fall overboard. I’ll teach you the spell after supper and you can start weaving it tonight.’
Thora sighed. If she did the spell herself it wouldn’t work! She wished Granny had offered to make the cloak. Then she really would have something magic to protect her.
The following night, before Granny could set her to work on the useless cloak again, Thora grabbed Ketil’s hand and hustled him out of the house.
‘You’re coming to the wood with me,’ she whispered. ‘I’m going to show you a secret.’
She led him through the tunnel and proudly showed him her precious garden.
‘What do you think of that?’ she asked.
His reaction was disappointing.
‘What’s so special about plants? They grow all over the wood!’
But he did want to get back in the tunnel.
‘This is fun!’ he said, wriggling backwards and forwards, making himself dirtier and dirtier.
And he was very proud to be trusted with her secret, promising to water the garden every day if Thora went away.
‘Now,’ thought Thora, ‘I can talk to Sigrid.’
19
A charm for the boat
Sigrid stood on the bank watching Oddo and Thora load The Cormorant. She shook her head wonderingly as they passed bundle after bundle over the side.
‘I can’t believe you got so many things ready!’ she exclaimed. ‘There should be enough there to buy everything we need – if you manage to get there. Oh, how did you talk me into letting you go?’ Anxiously she pressed her hands to her lips.
Hairydog had been bounding up and down the bank yapping excitedly. Now she leapt on board and began poking around. She sniffed at a keg of salt fish, rubbed her head against bundles of fleece and tried to chew the cheeses.
‘Get out of there!’ yelled Oddo. He and Thora were struggling to position the heavy wooden chest that would serve as their rowing bench.
‘Come here, Hairydog,’ called Sigrid.
They were almost ready to leave now. Thora stepped back on shore to collect the bag of barley and the cooking pot for their meals along the way. She stood with loaded arms, head cocked to one side, frowning.
‘What’s the problem?’ called Oddo.
‘There aren’t any charms painted on the boat,’ she called back.
Oddo shrugged.‘You know my father,’ he explained. ‘He doesn’t believe in magic charms.’
‘We could paint some on ourselves,’ suggested Thora, ‘but it would take a while, and then we’d have to wait for the paint to dry.’ Her face brightened. ‘I know, we could say a protective spell instead!’
She clambered back on board, and murmured close to Oddo’s ear so that Sigrid wouldn’t hear. ‘The spell wouldn’t work if I tried to do it on my own,’ she whispered. ‘But it should work if you do it.’
Sigrid had captured Hairydog and was leading her away from the boat. ‘Have you got the fire-lighting tools?’ she called out.
Oddo nodded and patted the new pouch hanging from his belt. Then he whispered back to Thora. ‘I’m not doing magic any more. Remember?’
‘It’s just a protective charm,’ hissed Thora. ‘We’ll ask Granny how to do it to make sure we get it right. Just help me find a place to put this first.’ She waggled the heavy iro
n pot in her arms.
Moments later, Oddo and Thora were hurrying up the hill.
Outside Thora’s house, Ketil ran forward screeching, and wrapped his arms round Thora’s knees. ‘Thora, have you changed your mind, are you staying?’ he gabbled excitedly.
‘Careful, you’re knocking me over!’ Thora exclaimed, grabbing Oddo to steady herself.
The rest of her family were pouring out of the house, alerted by Ketil’s squeals. Thora bent down and whispered in his ear.
‘Don’t forget to water the plants – and make sure you close the trapdoor every time!’
The next moment the whole family was around her, clamouring for attention.
‘Thank goodness you’ve come back,’ cried Finnhilda. ‘I couldn’t remember how much water to put in the porridge.’
‘You silly cloudhead, you left your anti-drowning cloak behind!’ croaked Granny Hulda, brandishing a piece of scarlet weaving. Her bones crackled loudly.
‘Don’t go,’ wailed Harald, jerking at her kirtle.
‘I’ve just come to find out a spell,’ yelled Thora, over the din. ‘We’re going to put a charm on the boat.’
‘I’ll get the incense burner!’ shouted Erik, running inside.
‘We’ll help you find the ingredients!’ cried Edith. ‘What do you need?’
Thora looked questioningly at Granny Hulda.
In a few moments the peace of the wood was shattered. Children scampered between the trees, giving whoops of delight as they found the right leaves and mosses. Granny Hulda waited in the clearing, pointing with her stick at likely bushes and trees.
Oddo wanted to laugh at the sight of Sigrid’s face when a crowd of badly dressed, wild-haired children lolloped down the hill towards her. Hairydog barked an excited greeting and began to dance on her hind legs. The children reached The Cormorant and surged over her sides, ignoring Sigrid’s protesting cries. Then Granny Hulda spoke to them sharply, giving them orders. They tumbled out of the boat and began to lug her up onto the bank. When they were done, they scampered back to the wood and hovered there, whispering and watching between the trees.
Granny handed Thora a basket filled with leaves plucked from berry brambles and elm trees.
‘Sprinkle these around the boat,’ she ordered. Thora passed the basket to Oddo.
‘Frying fish-heads, it’s no use the boy doing it!’ snapped Granny. ‘He’s not a spellworker!’ Thora raised her eyebrows at Oddo but didn’t argue.
‘We’ll do it together,’ she said. ‘It’s Oddo’s boat.’
‘Actually, it’s my father’s boat,’ thought Oddo, ‘and he’d kill me if he saw me doing this.’
Sigrid seemed to have the same idea. He saw her glancing uneasily in the direction of the house.
Oddo dipped his hand in the basket, then yanked it out again.
‘Ow!’ The berry leaves were covered with prickles.
‘Why do we have to use prickly leaves?’ he asked.
‘Because they’re the best for protection, silly,’ said Thora.
‘Well, I’m not putting my hand in that again,’ said Oddo. ‘Let’s tip them out of the basket.’
‘I guess that’ll be all right,’ she said doubtfully.
When they’d finished, Granny called out, ‘Edith!’
The little girl darted out of the wood.
‘Those ferns need to be tied to the boat somewhere,’ said Granny. She indicated the bunch in Edith’s fist.
Thora tweaked a strand of wool from one of the fleeces and used it to bind the greenery to the prow of The Cormorant.
‘And now it’s time for the spell,’ said Granny. She held out her hand. A few scrapings of moss from an ancient birch tree lay in her palm. Carefully she tilted them into the incense burner. She swung the burner in a slow circular motion. A dark spiral of smoke and a strong woodland odour flowed through the air.
‘Elm and bramble
Fern and moss
Guard this boat
From pain and loss!’
Granny’s voice sounded even croakier than usual.
‘Your turn,’ she told Thora, handing her the incense burner. Thora moved forward, keeping the burner swinging. ‘Come on,’ she prompted Oddo. The two of them circled the boat, chanting the spell together.
‘All finished, hey?’ said Granny, as they reappeared. ‘Then your boat’s ready to go.’
Eager helpers hurried forward to shove it back in the river. They shouted with glee as it splashed in, showering them all with water.
But as Oddo headed towards the boat, Sigrid grabbed him by the shoulders.
‘Oddo, I can’t let you do this,’ she cried. ‘You won’t be able to manage The Cormorant. It’s hard enough when your father and I do the rowing, and we’re double your size and strength. You children can’t possibly do it on your own. You’ll get swept out to sea or smashed against the rocks.’ She hugged him close. ‘Oddo, I don’t want to lose you.’
‘We’ll be fine,’ said Oddo, his voice muffled by a mouthful of apron. ‘There’s a charm on the boat now.’
‘Oh Oddo.’ Sigrid’s voice was tearful. ‘You know your father doesn’t believe in all that stuff.’
Oddo eased himself awkwardly out of his mother’s grasp.
‘I have to go to market,’ he said. ‘Or we won’t have all the things we need for winter.’
‘We can manage,’ said his mother. ‘We’ve got all that salt fish and cheese.’
‘I’m not eating nothing but salt fish and cheese all winter!’ Oddo exclaimed. ‘Don’t fuss, we’ll be fine.’
He was trying his best to sound calm and confident, but inside his stomach was churning with nervousness. He knew his mother was right. He knew this was a silly, dangerous idea, that he and Thora couldn’t possibly row all the way to market on their own, and yet . . . He had to do it. He’d made his father helpless and now it was up to him to do the work his father couldn’t do.
‘Come on!’ Thora came bounding over and grabbed Oddo’s hand. ‘Don’t worry, Sigrid, we’ll be fine.’
Oddo glanced at the riverbank as he took his seat in the boat. Thora’s brothers and sisters were jumping up and down, waving and cheering. A gloomy Sigrid stood stiff and anxious in their midst.
‘We’d better get this right,’ growled Oddo. He gripped his oar and plunged it determinedly into the water.
But Thora waggled her oar in a jaunty farewell, while Hairydog leapt about barking excitedly. The Cormorant swung in a wild arc and crashed against the bank.
‘Sit down! Both of you!’ yelled Oddo, pushing off again with his oar. Tears of embarrassment pricked his eyes. This time he didn’t dare look back as the little boat lurched off down the river.
20
Setback at sea
In a short time, Oddo and Thora worked out how to match their strokes and settled into a steady, comfortable rhythm. Oddo felt a thrill of pride and power as he pulled his oar through the water and The Cormorant responded with a steady forward glide. The late afternoon sun shone warmly, the water sparkled and Hairydog stood proudly in the prow like a living figurehead. Every now and then they could even pause for a rest and let the boat drift with the flow of the river.
‘What’s that?’ asked Thora, nodding at something in the distance flapping above the trees.
‘It . . . it looks like a flag!’ said Oddo.
They rounded a bend in the river.
‘Wow!’ breathed Thora. ‘The longship!’
The black and gold flag rippled at the peak of a tall mast. A furled sail, red as blood, snaked along the boom. The ship herself was painted black – long, narrow, and sinister as a sword blade. A great carved dragon-head snarled from the prow.
Ulf and his mates were loading the ship with shields and spears, halberds and pikes. They wore pointy metal helmets and leather jerkins instead of their usual farming slops. Oddo and Thora fell silent. Oddo wondered how it would feel to go on a Viking raid. Crossing the sea to strange lands would be exciting, but
threatening people with swords and stealing their valuables . . . no, trading was more to his taste.
The Cormorant drifted past the dragon ship and Oddo gripped his oar purposefully.
‘Come on,’ he said, ‘use some muscle. We’re going to market.’
The river flowed into the fjord, and very soon they came in sight of the sea.
‘This isn’t difficult at all!’ cried Thora gleefully.
But once they were out in the sea, they realised why Sigrid had been so worried. The waves were like mad ogres pounding The Cormorant in fury. Over and over again they lifted up the little boat as if to fling her against the rocky cliffs, only to let her drop again with a stomach-heaving dive. Rowing seemed futile – no matter how desperately they strained to move forward, a fierce wind kept driving them back, spraying them again and again with stinging, salty water.
Oddo glanced at Thora. She wasn’t smiling any more.
Hairydog gave a whine, vomited over Thora’s feet, and cowered down among the bundles of fleece.
Oddo longed for just a moment’s rest but he knew it was only by rowing as hard as they could that they would have any chance of heading south, where they wanted to go. If they gave in, they would be smashed against the rocks or swept away in the wrong direction.
At last Oddo spied a smooth stretch of beach.
‘Pull over,’ he gasped.
They raised their oars and let the surf carry them onto the beach. The little boat skidded across the gritty surface, then ground to a standstill as the sea receded. Oddo flung himself over the side and yelled at Thora to get out. They dragged the boat up the beach beyond reach of the waves, and collapsed in an exhausted heap. Oddo swallowed air in loud, rasping gulps. There was a stinging pain in his hands.
Hairydog poked a timid nose over the side of the boat and regarded him anxiously, then she leapt out of the boat and began to lick his face. He pushed her away.
Thora stumbled to her feet and gazed around.
‘I’ve never been this far from home before! It doesn’t look very different.’