B0046ZREEU EBOK

by Elphinstone, Margaret

  I never told him about the ghosts that haunted my past. I never talked to him about the things I learned from Halldis. Thorstein, like all hunters, had a respect for unseen things. I never doubted his courage; his companions told me enough of what he’d done, but I grew to know his private fears. I knew, as no one else could know, that he had bad dreams. They were usually about his brother Thorvald. Thorstein loved Thorvald as he did not love Leif. Thorstein knew, I’m sure, that his brother was doomed. Perhaps he knew when they parted they wouldn’t meet again. He didn’t say so aloud, of course, because he would never have done anything that might help an evil fate to overtake his brother. Only at night he would turn over and over in his sleep, and call his brother’s name. I used to hear an echo in his voice, as if something in the bedwall heard and mocked him, or as if his voice came from somewhere far away. He sounded then like a drowning man, and I was afraid. But in the morning Thorstein never seemed to remember anything about his nightmares, and I never reminded him. Only sometimes when we went to bed at night he clung to me with a strength that was not all passion, and made love to me violently, as if by doing that he could stave off the lonely night and what it held.

  So when Thorvald’s ship came home at the end of the third summer with the news of his death, it did not surprise us at Stokkanes. The cloud was down, so we hadn’t seen the ship return, and it was not until Leif came over to fetch Thorstein that we heard what had happened. This is the gist of the story that Leif told:

  Thorvald followed Leif’s sailing directions, and came to Leif’s houses in Vinland without much difficulty. It sounds so easy to say that – it was only when I made the voyage myself I knew what these simple phrases really mean. They didn’t have time for much hunting before winter set in, but they were lucky with the fishing, and so they lived mostly on dried fish that winter. As soon as the ice melted in spring they launched the ship again and sailed west. I realised afterwards they must have sailed a long way into Straumfjord, as Karlsefni did later, and certainly the description I heard from Leif tallies with what we found: a warm, wooded land with long sandy beaches suitable for boats. There was no sign of any people, but far down Straumfjord they found a rough building, a sort of drying shed, as far as I could make out. If we had known what that signified! But we were innocent then; the new lands stretched out invitingly before us.

  Thorvald wintered at Leif’s houses again, and the next summer he sailed east. The east coast was rough and exposed, and a cold current brought icebergs down from the north, making sailing hazardous in the thick fogs along that shore. But then the land became more welcoming, with long fjords stretching inland between wooded slopes. It was hot summer by then, and I know, I’ve seen, what Thorvald found so attractive about the place. Apparently he’d said to his crew, ‘This is the place. This is where I’m going to build my settlement.’

  And so fate met him. It was not woven into the destiny of our people to inhabit that land, you see. An angel with a flaming sword stands at the gate of that country, and though a few of us have passed the threshold, the moment we say aloud that we intend to dwell in the place, the sword descends. To keep us out, they have peopled that world with demons, half-men, creatures out of Jotunheim. And yet even as we sailed away, after the slaughter and the bloodshed, we looked back on those green shores and saw it as it seemed at first, a paradise. But we’re shut out.

  And that’s how it was with Thorvald. When they sailed on that evening they found three skin boats drawn up on the shore. Thorvald ordered his men to hide among the trees and wait. Just as it was getting dark nine savages came out of the forest. They strolled over to the boats, carrying strange baskets on their backs. They must have noticed something amiss, because they stopped suddenly and seemed to sniff the air, and look about. Thorvald gave the signal, and the men in ambush leapt out of the forest. The savages were taken by surprise, and it took no time at all to slaughter eight of them. One was too quick. He fled to his boat, which was so light he had it launched and was away before he could be caught. The stuff in the baskets was honey, and our men brought it home to Greenland. Leif gave us some. I remember the taste now; it was like eating the sun.

  As soon as it was light Thorvald climbed up the headland at the mouth of the fjord, and saw what he had failed to make out before: a couple of small clearings along the coast, and little humps which might be huts, or boats. There were no cattle. I don’t think Thorvald realised that his plans were hopeless. Once blood is shed the fates smell it, and they come faster than lightning. Back in the camp the men fell asleep in the heat of the day, for they hadn’t slept that night, and the lookouts fell asleep too. The heat of the forest in the afternoon can have enchantment in it, as I know. Leif wanted to find the men who slept at their post and take revenge on them for the death of his brother, but I persuaded him not to, even though I didn’t yet know Vinland. I’m glad to say he listened to me; after all, he knew something about the effect of spells himself.

  Thorvald and his men were wakened by a voice that cried out ‘Wake up, Thorvald! Wake up, and flee! Flee for your lives to your ship, and get out as fast as you can!’

  They stumbled to their feet, still half asleep, and grabbed their weapons. The skin boats were making for them down the fjord, like a swarm of flies that smells carrion. Thorvald and his men reached the boat. There was no wind. They manned the oars and slowly began to move. The skin boats were blocking the fjord mouth. Thorvald told off men to defend the gunwales with their shields, and the others to keep rowing as hard as they could. The savages came alongside and shot them with arrows, but made no attempt to board the ship. So our men couldn’t fight, but could only press on towards the open sea under the storm of arrows. Once they were clear of the fjord the savages turned back.

  Thorvald asked if any man were wounded. None were badly hurt, but then Thorvald himself fell to his knees. ‘I’m shot in the armpit,’ he said. ‘No, don’t touch me. There’s nothing to be done. You can pull it out when I’m dead, but listen to me now.’

  They laid him on the deck, and as he’d ordered them, no one tried to staunch the wound or pull the arrow out, which would have ended it. He spoke to them in a whisper, for his lungs were filling with blood. ‘Get back to Leif’s houses, and get yourselves food for winter. In the spring go home to Brattahlid as fast as you can. As for me, I was right when I said that I had found the place I choose to dwell. Take me back there and bury me. Put a cross there, and tell my mother privately that you did so. And tell my father I died well.’

  That was all Leif’s story. Thorvald’s crew had done just as he ordered, and were all safely back at Brattahlid. ‘Did Thorvald leave me no message?’ asked Thorstein.

  ‘No message to you or me,’ said Leif.

  Thorstein stared into the fire. ‘He knew he need not,’ he said at last. ‘I shall follow him, Leif. I shall find the place he chose. I won’t leave him alone out there.’

  ‘You won’t move him?’ asked Leif startled.

  Thorstein looked at Leif with strange unfocussed eyes. ‘Move him? What do you mean?’

  ‘Our mother wants him brought back here.’

  ‘Against his own wish?’

  ‘The priest told her that a soul is damned if it’s not buried in Christian ground.’

  ‘Then are all our ancestors damned?’ I asked.

  They ignored me. ‘I agree it’s not practical,’ said Leif, ‘But that’s what she’s asking us to do.’

  ‘He didn’t ask for it,’ said Thorstein. ‘In fact he said he wanted to lie out there. But I’ll find him.’

  ‘And how do you propose to do that?’

  ‘Leif, you’ll give me your ship?’ Thorstein laid his hand on his brother’s knee, pleading. ‘I knew he wouldn’t come back. I knew it would end like this. I must be the one to go. You understand that?’

  Leif looked at him thoughtfully. ‘To find Thorvald, or to find a new land?’

  ‘To find Thorvald’s place. It’s the same thing.’

  L
eif shook his head. ‘A loyal brother, and a born follower. Fair enough. I won’t give you my ship, but I’ll lend it. I’ll lend you Leif’s houses too, to over-winter. What will you do when you get to Thorvald’s place?’

  ‘He chose it for a settlement. I’ll do his will.’

  ‘And the savages?’

  ‘I won’t be taken by surprise.’

  ‘You’ll not live in peace until you’ve destroyed them.’

  ‘Then I shall destroy them. You said a couple of small clearings? That won’t be hard.’

  ‘Take care, Thorstein, fates have sharp ears.’

  I thought the same, and crossed myself.

  ‘A settlement?’ went on Leif. ‘It’s a long way, you know.’

  ‘You’re the one to say that? You built Leif’s houses!’

  ‘As a trading post.’ Leif was frowning. ‘I’m not sure it’s a world for men to live in.’

  Thorstein turned on him. ‘Thorvald meant to live there! The truth is you don’t want anyone to have it but yourself.’

  ‘No.’ Leif was the only one of that family to be even-tempered, and it was just as well. ‘No,’ he said patiently. ‘What I have I share with my family. But I don’t want to lose both my brothers.’

  ‘What did you mean by saying I was a born follower?’

  ‘I meant well,’ said Leif, ‘Thorstein, don’t quarrel with me. I’m lending you my ship and my houses. Isn’t that enough for you? If you didn’t want them I’d be using them myself. I’ve every right to do that. Your luck’s in your own hands; I’m just saying you should think about it.’

  Thorstein turned suddenly to me. ‘Gudrid, this farm of your father’s has kept us both well enough. It’s my turn now. Will you come with me to a new country?’

  ‘Oh yes,’ I said at once, because I realised all at once that this had always been my destiny. ‘Of course I will.’

  ELEVEN

  July 24th

  Until I met Karlsefni, an evil fate pursued me whenever I put to sea. Why I should be punished more than anyone else for daring to trust myself to wind and water I don’t know. I think it must have been written in my fate before I was born that I should be a creature of the land. The cruellest part of my bad luck was that it was never fatal to me, only to those I loved. That was why I was so reluctant to go with Karlsefni at first. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to be with him, quite the opposite. I was frightened that if we trusted ourselves to the sea, where more than anywhere else one is in the hands of stronger powers, he would be lost to me. I never doubted that he was the best thing for me; I was just terrified that I should be the worst thing for him. But Karlsefni said that his good luck would overcome my bad fate, and that from now on the curse of a hostile sea would be lifted from me. I was afraid his confidence would tempt a vengeful ghost, but he was right. I never suffered at sea again, nor did those I loved, after I was with him. And that wasn’t due to any action on my part. I have some skill in unseen things, as you know, but I have my limitations, and the shores of land are one of them. I have no power over the sea, or anything that belongs to it.

  But I’m running ahead of my story. Thorstein had Leif’s ship thoroughly refitted that winter. It needed a lot of work done on it, after a three-year voyage. That meant we spent a lot of time at Brattahlid. Luckily the ice was thick that year, and soon we had a sledge track as wide as a Roman road running straight from Stokkanes to Eirik’s boat shed. I forgot to tell you, by this time Thjodhild had built her church. It was small, just about four paces each way; the turf walls were almost as wide as the space inside. It was aligned so that the altar faced east, because Herjolf’s thrall had said that churches in Europe must always be built this way to face Jerusalem. That meant it was the only building in Brattahlid whose door didn’t face down the fjord. Instead, you came out and saw the waterfall where the river flowed into the settlement over a little crag. Thjodhild said that was suitable – the water of baptism, of life, is supposed to be at the entrance of every church. When we had our mass we’d leave the door open if the weather was good, to have daylight, and the sound of water would accompany the priest’s chant. The church was tucked away behind the byre so Eirik couldn’t see it from the house: Thjodhild did her best to be tactful, like all that family, just so long as she got her own way in everything. She tried to keep Leif’s Norwegian priest out of Eirik’s way too, but as the man had to eat, that was more difficult.

  And now she wanted Thorstein to bring back Thorvald’s body to be buried in consecrated ground, for the saving of his soul. Eirik said that was nonsense, and his son should lie in peace in the place he himself had chosen. ‘What greater honour can any man have,’ he demanded, ‘than to be able to claim a new country, a land flowing with wine and honey? Isn’t Thorvald’s grave a greater monument to his deeds than the largest burial mound ever raised? What man needs his wealth buried with him if he lies in his own country where riches lie all around him for the picking?’

  ‘I’m not talking about worldly things,’ said Thjodhild. ‘He was my son and I want to make sure of his salvation.’

  ‘You won’t do anything for him by meddling with his corpse. Be thankful Thorvald had no cause to do other than lie still where he’s laid. Aren’t there enough ghosts walking this world without you digging more up?’

  ‘They’re the ghosts of a heathen country. If you would listen to me there need be no more ghosts in Greenland.’

  She kept trying to talk to him about her faith, and always in the end he’d resort to blasphemy, as she saw it. He’d use the name of Christ to swear by, just as we used to do with the old gods. Now men do it all the time, and it’s hard to remember the effect it had on me when Eirik first used it as a way of silencing his wife’s arguments. He succeeded, because she was afraid he would damn himself if she provoked him to go on. In the end she said as little as possible, but she had her church. What’s more, she wouldn’t sleep with Eirik any more, because he was a heathen. I don’t know if he was more angry about her refusal, or that she told other people, so everyone, even the thralls, knew that he couldn’t have sex with his own wife. He retaliated by being unfaithful to her at every opportunity, which was easy enough, because none of the thralls would have said no to him.

  I suppose they were both grieving for Thorvald in their own ways. Families are like that. You think there is a pattern to the way people behave, that they will do certain things in what is supposed to be a normal way. But I have never got to know any household well, where I didn’t find quite soon that they don’t keep to the pattern. Everything they do is peculiar, and in fact one is forced to conclude in the end that the pattern doesn’t exist. I’ve never met a family that behaved normally. Have you?

  * * * * *

  Yes, it must make you long for what you haven’t experienced. My sons are both strong men now, much tougher, you’d think, than a churchman like yourself. We didn’t have them fostered, but kept them with us at home. I was happy with my foster parents, as you know, but living in a monastery must be very different. Of course, you’ve never lived in the same house with a woman since you were ten. Well, naturally it’s hard for me to imagine that. Did you wonder about women a lot when you were growing up?

  * * * * *

  That’s true. Girls are much harder to deal with generally, but as far as I can make out boys of that age never think about anything except sex.

  * * * * *

  All right then, hardly ever.

  * * * * *

  Yes, I suppose that’s bound to happen. I don’t think it’s natural. If I were you, Agnar, I would go back to Iceland, where there are souls that need you, and I’d get a farm and get married. I don’t suppose you want advice; no one ever does, but perhaps one day you’ll remember what I said. Now, where were we?

  Oh yes, that wicked voyage. Thorstein and I intended to sail first to the western settlement, which should have taken a few days. It was the part of the journey he knew very well, because he went there every year on his way north. He’d
claimed land in the western settlement too, a farm called Sandnes, which he’d put in the charge of tenants.

  At the foot of Eiriksfjord we put in at Dyrnes. Snorri Thorbrandsson was still living there, opposite Eirik’s island and the old winter camp. We were feasted there the first night. I woke early next morning and followed a path made by fishermen along the shore of the fjord. Black crags towered over me, but I was walking through sweet young grass. I stopped by a stream bordered by celandines and river beauty, and looked down into water clear as air. I looked at the path under my feet, and I thought, ‘This path is twelve years old. That’s how old we are in this country. And this place, lovely as it is to my eyes, has been here since the nine worlds were made. From the beginning of time it has been like this for the glory of God alone.’ Our world is made out of the empty places, Agnar, and we’ll never touch anything but the fringes of the unknown. That seems to prove to me that it wasn’t made for us.

  * * * * *

  What you say is true, but Eden was a garden with walls built around it. Adam never laid eyes on the vastness of the worlds. He never named what has not been seen and known. That’s what your theologians in Rome don’t see. They can’t look out of the world from here; they don’t know how small we are.