by J. A. Snow
“I’m glad I don’t owe him any money,” said one thrall by the name of Snapp. He was one of the youngest builders and he had taken a liking to Aegir. “I would rather not give my own blood in the payment of a debt!”
“Ja,” said one of the men. “You only owe him your life. Your blood will surely flow if Jarl Fornjot hears you talking about him in such a manner!”
The other thralls glanced warily at Aegir, fearful the boy would carry their confidences back to their jarl, but Snapp assured them the boy was loyal. “Don’t worry about young Aegir here. He can’t repeat anything we say. He is risking his own skin even being here. His papi forbids him to mingle with the likes of us! Isn’t that right, Boy?”
Aegir nodded.
“Tell us, then,” said another thrall. “Does he beat you and your brothers on a regular basis? Is it true he has a lash six feet long with metal spikes embedded in it?”
Aegir laughed. “Where did you ever hear such a story?” he asked. “He has a lash, that’s true enough, but he only uses it on our moder when he is in a bad mood. And, once, on Logi, for lying.”
“You are smarter than your brother,” said Snapp. “You know better than to rile your papi. Logi is too bold for his age. His punishment will come in time.”
“Ja,” replied Aegir. “He nearly drowned himself yesterday in the lake. Papi forbade him to go back and he is going anyway. He is convinced he has found the Yggdrasil where the god Odin lives.”
“Odin? Ha!” said Snapp, chuckling. “More likely it’s his boyish imagination run amuck.”
“Some in the village say your brother inherited your papi’s curse,” said another of the thralls. “Do you know of the witch, Nordrana?”
Aegir knew of the witch. He had heard rumors that she made human sacrifices and drank her victims’ blood. All the boys in the village knew that. “Logi may have inherited my papi’s meanness,” he told the thralls. “But, I know of nei curse on our family.”
There was silence in the room, mixed with a twinge of foreboding. Every man there was afraid of Fornjot and none of them trusted young Logi. The thralls quickly went back to work, lest they be whipped for idleness.
“And, how is your little fleet coming?” Snapp wanted to know, as he worked away with his chisel. “When will you bring it to us so that we may see your talents?”
Aegir shrugged. “Soon, I promise,” he said. “When Papi goes on a long journey, perhaps. If he sees me with it, he will surely want to know where I learned such skills!”
“I can teach you everything I know,” Snapp said. “But, first I must see your work so that I can tell you what you are doing wrong.”
“I will bring them soon,” said Aegir.
Aegir said good-bye to Snapp and left the boathouse, retrieving the newest of his small boats from the barn, before he wandered down the road toward the lake. The grey clouds had moved on, blown away by the winds coming down from the mountains, and the season was changing rapidly; there were already gusts whipping up spirals of dust on the road. He found his brother, Kari, sitting on the banks, with a roll of twine in his hand, his kite bobbing and billowing above him at the end of the string.
“You have a new boat?” Kari asked nonchalantly, never taking his eyes off his kite.
“Ja,” replied Aegir. “A new design. Just like the one they are building now. It is deeper and Snapp says it will draw more water. Better for going across the Gandvik and beyond.”
Kari laughed at that. “Nei one has ever gone beyond the Gandvik,” he said. “And, a tiny boat like yours would not survive the waves, anyway.”
“Don’t be so sure,” replied Aegir. “Snapp says……”
“Snapp says this, Snapp says that,” warned Kari. “You need to stop talking of this thrall as if he were a god. If Papi gets wind of your friendship, he will lop off Snapp’s head and it will be the lash for you!”
Aegir put his little boat into the shallow water of the lake. “I hate Papi sometimes,” he said with uncharacteristic boldness. “I want to build boats but I know he will never let me. He wants us all to get fat and lazy just like him. Moder says it is good to have a skill.”
“Moder has nei say in it,” replied Kari. “She is only a woman. What does she know about boat-building anyway?”
“She knows far more than you think,” said Aegir. He watched his boat as it bobbed and circled on the surface of the water. “It’s leaning too much to one side,” he said to Kari. “Don’t you agree?”
“It needs ballast,” said Kari. “I hear the men on the docks tell of putting rocks in the hulls of their boats to steady them.”
Aegir searched the shore for several small pebbles and waded out to put them in his boat. “There!” he said. “That’s much better.” The little boat drifted further and further away from the shore.
“You’d better catch it, Aegir,” said Kari, “before it slips away and all your work will be for naught.”
Aegir returned from the water with his boat and sat down beside Kari, who was beginning to reel in his kite.
“I wonder what would happen if we tied your boat to my kite?” said Kari. “I’ll wager it would cross the lake to the other side, if the wind was right.”
Aegir laughed. “Or perhaps my boat would pull your kite down into the water.”
“If put to a test, I’d wager on the strength of the wind,” said Kari.
“We could go down to the harbor, where the currents are stronger,” said Aegir. “That would be a true test of the wind against the sea!”
Kari began to wind up his string and stood up. “Maybe tomorrow,” he replied. “A storm is brewing. I can feel it. We should go home now.”
The two boys started down the road toward home. The seed of another adventure had been planted, another adventure for another day.
Chapter Six “Logi’s Torch”
When Fornjot’s pockets were finally filled with silver coins, he returned from the village, followed by several obliging men who toted the other tributes he had collected, slabs of reindeer meat, several dozen eggs, vegetables and a crate of iron spikes for his boat builders. He stopped briefly at the shop of the smithja, expecting to find his oldest son there as always, breathing in the hot fumes from Weyland’s forge. Sure enough, Logi was there, sitting at one end of the shop, his eyes glued to the furnace as the smithja fired and tempered a blade over the hot coals. When Weyland saw the jarl approaching, he stopped work to pay his respects. “Jarl Fornjot! It’s good to see you! What can I do for you today? Sharpen your axe perhaps?”
“Nei, my blades are all in fine order,” Fornjot replied. “I came seeking my son and I see he is under your feet again.”
“He is nei bother, Jarl,” said Weyland. “He is a good lad. Just drawn to the forge, like all boys his age.”
“It appears I shall have to buy your business to keep my son out of mischief!” said Fornjot, only half in jest.
Weyland’s face fell visibly. “My business is not for sale, Jarl Fornjot,” he said quietly but firmly.
Fornjot laughed out loud. “Nonsense, Man!” he said. “Everything is for sale at the right price!” He glanced over at Logi. “Would you like that, Logi? To own your own foundry?”
Fornjot, surprisingly, did not object to Logi lingering in the metal works as he did Aegir mingling in the boathouse; Weyland was a self-made karl, much higher on the aristocracy ladder than the thralls who built his boats. He was a man of good standing in the village, beneath his own noble status, of course, but still respectable in his own right. “I suppose he can stay awhile longer,” said Fornjot. “As long as he is behaving himself.” He looked at Logi. “See that you are not late for supper,” he said and continued up the road. Logi was Fornjot’s favorite son and he rarely hid the fact. Bigger in stature and bolder than his brothers, he expected his eldest son to be a success at whatever he chose to do, whether it be building his own metal works or expanding the family boat business. Fornjot considered Logi to be more like himself than any of hi
s boys. Kari was a thinker. Aegir was a follower. But, in Fornjot’s mind at least, Logi had the makings of a great jarl!
When they reached the longhouse, Fornjot ordered the men to unload the supplies; they stacked the foodstuffs on the floor of the kitchen and took the crates of spikes to the boathouse. “I’ve a taste for some of that reindeer meat,” he told Hildi. “Fry some up now. I am hungry after my journey to the village.”
Hildi put her skillet on the fire and greased it with a white blob of pig fat. “Did you see Logi in the village?” she asked.
“Ja,” replied Fornjot. “He was where he always is, pestering old Weyland.”
“Did you tell him to come home for supper?” she asked.
“He’ll come home when he’s ready,” snapped Fornjot. “He isn’t hungry yet, but I am! Get busy, Woman! Can’t you see I am starving here?”
Hildi gripped her carving knife so tightly in her hands her knuckles turned white as she began to slice off portions of the meat. Her mind was wandering to thoughts of murder, as she stabbed and separated the pieces of deer-flesh, imagining her husband’s face as she threw them in the pan and they hissed and spit on the fire. She watched Fornjot as he sat at the kitchen table; his girth had ballooned since his early days. No longer was he the lean and muscular young man she had married so long ago. Now, the sight of him disgusted her. She hated how he treated her, how he treated Kari and Aegir and how he spoiled Logi. This man she married had no shred of his father in him; he had inherited none of Kaleva’s kindness or compassion. Where, she wondered as she put the trencher down in front of him, did this monster come from? She had heard the rumors in the village that her husband’s wickedness was all Nordrana’s fault. Some said the witch had placed a curse on him from the moment he was born. Hildi didn’t really believe in curses. But, now, she was beginning to worry that the curse, if there was one, had reached down through his father’s blood to her son, Logi.
“I’ll take some mead too,” said Fornjot. “I need something to wash the meat down.” He stared at his wife. “What is wrong with you, Woman? Are you ill?”
Hildi brought him his horn. “Nei, Fornjot, I am not ill.”
She is not as attractive as she once was, Fornjot thought, watching her as he ate his supper. Her coal-black hair now had streaks of silver and her once-lovely oval eyes now had dark circles around them. Still, she was a good cook and she had given him three healthy boys, even if, in his mind, only one of his sons held promise. He watched her as she went back to storing the supplies he had brought from town. At least, her shape was still pleasing to him. His own mind wandered. He knew what he wanted. He would have it tonight.
At that moment, Kari and Aegir burst into the room, taking their place beside their father at the table. Aegir was eager to tell someone of their plan to tie Kari’s kite to his boat in the harbor, but he knew he couldn’t tell his father. If Fornjot found out about his son’s boatbuilding skills acquired from Snapp and the other thralls, that would be the end of his boats!
“What mischief have you two been up to today?” asked Fornjot.
“Flying my kite over the lake,” said Kari, with a wink to his little brother. “Nei mischief to speak of.”
“Where is Logi?” muttered Hildi. “The meat will be cold and I will have to heat it up all over again……”
“Then, that is what you will do, Woman!” shouted Fornjot. “Now, quit your harping on the matter! He will be home soon.”
He drank another horn of mead and his temper quelled. Wandering off to his bed he glanced again at his wife. “Come to bed,” he said in a tone that was less harsh, but not soft enough to erase his earlier rudeness toward her. Hildi was not impressed, nor was she in any hurry to cater to her husband’s baser needs. She looked toward the door uneasily. “I am worried for his safety,” she said. “Logi should not be out on the road after dark.”
“The season is changing,” said Fornjot dully. “Soon there will be nei sunlight at all. Do you plan to keep the boys inside the longhouse all winter?”
Kari and Aegir wandered off to their mats by the fire and Hildi washed up the trenchers, before she reluctantly retired to the next room. Soon, only the sound of the fire snapping and Fornjot’s snores resonated between the stone walls and the boys fell asleep too.
Kari did not notice when Logi had slipped into his bed beside them; he had come home sometime during the night. Now, he awakened to his older brother stirring beside him. “Move over,” he said. “I haven’t enough room.”
When Logi refused to move, Kari stood up and pulled his mat and fur robe away toward the other side of the room. Suddenly, there was a great pounding on the door.
“Jarl Fornjot!” said a panicked voice outside. “Come quickly! There is a fire!”
Kari ran to the door and opened it. Snapp was standing there with terror in his eyes. “The animal barn is burning! Tell your papi to come quickly!”
Kari’s eyes glanced over Snapp’s head. He could see flames shooting up through the thatch on the roof of the barn. He could hear the panicked bleating of the animals inside it. “Go open the gates!” he shouted at Snapp. “Get the animals out! I’ll fetch Papi.”
Grumbling, Fornjot awoke to Kari’s pleading and Hildi sat up beside him. Aegir woke then and rushed outside to witness helplessly as his fleet of boats went up in flames. Soon, everyone in the compound was up toting water to douse the fire but it could not be saved; the entire roof caved in and nothing remained but the rock walls. The animals had escaped. That was all that was important Fornjot told the thralls. It hadn’t spread to the longhouse or the boathouse.
“We can build a new roof,” he said. “For now, everyone just go back to bed.”
Back in the longhouse, Logi had not stirred. He appeared to be sleeping peacefully by the fire. After Kari and Aegir had crawled back under their skins, he opened one eye and a satisfied smile crept across his face. He glanced over at Aegir who was lying on his bed with tears streaming down his face.
Nei more boats, little Brother, thought Logi, still smiling smugly, and with pure malice in his heart. Nei more boats!
Chapter Seven “Kari’s Experiment”
By morning, a light snow had begun to fall, dusting the heap of grey ash and rubble that was once the animal barn with a fine powder. The thralls were pulled away from boatbuilding temporarily to clean up the mess, while the sons of Fornjot sat and watched from the palisade.
“I wonder how it started,” commented Kari.
The wind had died down from the night before; now, only a grey bank of snow clouds hung oppressively over the village.
“A spark from the fire pit perhaps?” asked Logi innocently.
Little Aegir shook his head. “I know who is responsible for this,” he said curtly. “It was you, Logi! You did this to destroy my boats and I will never forgive you for it!”
Logi laughed. “You are crazy, little Brother,” he mocked. “I was asleep in the longhouse right beside you all night.”
Kari thought about it; Logi had come in later than the others. It was certainly possible. “If you did this,” he said, “It is by far the most disgraceful thing you have ever done! You know how much those boats meant to Aegir!”
“I saw him get up from his bed and go out,” Aegir went on. “I know it was him!”
With one violent thrust, Logi leaned forward and sent Aegir plummeting off the wall. The boy landed in a heap on the frosty ground. He stood up and brushed himself off, glaring up at Logi.
“Why must you pick on our brother?” asked Kari, shaking his head.
“Because he is weak! And giants cannot be weak!” said Logi. His eyes were riveted on Aegir. “If you ever marry, you will father little cripples, just like yourself!”
“That’s enough!” shouted Kari. “Leave him alone! He has done nothing to you, Logi!”
“He accused me of starting the fire,” Logi replied. “He should keep his mouth shut unless he wants consequences.”
Kari knew at lea
st part of what Logi had said was true; poor Aegir would never be as strong as his brothers. The boy seemed to grow spindlier as he grew older. He picked at his food at mealtimes and his complexion was like that of a ghost, fading a little more with every year that passed. Kari felt sorry for his little brother but he was also growing tired of always having to defend him against Logi’s assaults. “Let’s go down to the harbor and try that experiment we talked about,” he said.
Aegir hung his head low. “How can I?” he answered. “I have nei more boats.”
“Well, let’s go anyway,” said Kari, trying to cheer him. “Just for something to do.” He jumped down from the wall and put his arm protectively around his younger brother.
Logi’s interest was kindled. “What experiment? I want to know! What are you two up to?”
“That is none of your business, Logi,” said Aegir. “You can stay here and watch the thralls repair the damage you caused.”
The two brothers left through the high gate and headed down the road to the village. Logi held back and then he followed at a discreet distance; the curiosity gnawing at him. What were his brothers doing that he didn’t know about?
The Gandvik was calm and cold; before long, there would be a sheet of ice spreading out from the dock and the boats there would be frozen in place for several months unless they were pulled from the water soon. The clouds were dark grey, nigh to bursting with a new load of snow, and they hung heavily overhead as Kari and Aegir sat down on the last plank, letting their legs dangle over the side above the lapping water. Logi watched them from a distance behind a bait shack, trying to eavesdrop on their conversation.
“There is not enough wind today,” Kari was saying. “We will try tomorrow or the next day. Can you build another boat by then?”