Too late, I tuned into the thoughts within and behind his words. Something he considered but didn’t say. His necklace of teeth – or maybe claws – had sharp points that tangled with the thoughts I couldn’t quite hear.
Håkan and I moved into the bushes, while his mother and sister, and the Sami, shared more of the delights of dried reindeer. The ground rose sharply for a few metres and we had to scramble with our hands as well as our feet through the snow. I’d no idea what we were looking for but kept my eyes peeled for blackberries, as they were my favourite and hoped we would not find gooseberries, as they definitely weren’t. The way the trees and bushes had grown provided a natural path of crisp snow. The only sound came from our breathing and the squeaky crunch of our boots breaking the snow’s surface.
We entered a clearing. The sun had finally broken through and shafts of light picked out dazzling white strips on the virgin snow, leaving the nearby shadows a wonderful shade of blue. We were somewhere magical. I started half whistling that Mariah Carey ‘All I Want for Christmas’ song they play over and over, but Håkan said, “Sshhh,” and held up his hand. I couldn’t hear anything except the sunlight falling on snow, which remained pretty quiet. Catching the brightness and nestling between two tall trees, a single bush glowed with deep purple berries. We walked over. Each berry had a blush on it of the sort of icing sugar very small fairies might use. They looked absolutely delicious. But they might of course be deadly nightshade, or a Lucrezia Borgia special. I decided not to try one, but it only took us a few minutes to fill the leather pouch.
We turned to go back. We were no longer alone. Dominating the far side of the clearing – blocking our way – stood the biggest bear I’ve ever met in the woods. Actually the biggest bear, period. His pale brown fur became almost white where the sun lit it from behind, so he also glowed. It reminded me of the pelt I’d been using to keep warm on the sled. I hoped that hadn’t been his mother.
Everything felt unreal. His intense brown eyes, too small for his great face, focused entirely on us. Maybe the berry bush belonged to him?
“What do we do?” I asked Håkan, out of the corner of my mouth, hoping Swedish boys in the sixteenth century, or wherever we were, knew the answer. My whole body fizzed in that in-the-middle place between craven fear and total excitement. We might be dead in moments, but something about the glowing bear invited wonder as well as terror.
The bear raised its paws, showing claws the size of a Swiss Army knife, and I recognised where Garral had obtained his necklace. The hairy monster rippled with fatty muscle. It dropped down onto all fours, and looked smaller: not cuddly, but not the size of a barn door any more. Who’d said ‘never run from a bear’? Well, chance would be a fine thing. The bushes behind ours were thick and tangled and the bear would crash through more easily than two lightly built boys. The bear tossed its head, looked at us both once more while time stood still. Then it turned and trundled off. I finally breathed out. We both waited. The odd crackling sound suggested the bear had veered deeper into the wood. Still we waited.
Håkan had a glassy look in his eyes, staring where the bear had been. The sun had disappeared behind the clouds and the grove in which we stood no longer had the magical fairy-grotto look any more, just a snowy clearing at the edge of an endless forest.
“Come on,” I said. “I think it’s gone.”
He nodded and we started to return. We stepped quietly, looking left and right and ready to leg it seriously, if Bruno showed us his snout once more. He didn’t. The path between the trees and the frozen bushes went on much further than I remembered. I looked for our footprints, but we were scrunching through virgin snow. Håkan walked confidently. Just as I thought we’d have to go back, we came to the bank. We half-slid and half-scrambled back down and came out to where everyone waited. Except they weren’t there!
“As Seen in the Vision”
We emerged maybe twenty metres from where we’d entered the forest. Over to our right, the sleds stood neatly, with their reindeer staring in our direction. My tooth-challenged Sami stood chewing and staring at us as though we might be woodsprites or worse. He didn’t smile. Faintly, we could hear feet crashing through the forest nearby, and voices calling.
Håkan shouted out. In a few moments, Eira and Signy emerged some way away.
“They’re here!” Eira shouted. “It’s all right, they’re here.”
Gradually the men came out of the forest and gathered around the tree stump. They looked towards us but no one grinned or offered a greeting. Led by Garral, once more they arranged green tree fronds, this time in a wide circle around the tree stump.
Garral knelt in the snow for some moments, facing where the mighty tree had once dominated the forest, and then stood up in a lithe single movement. He crossed to his sled and reached into a pack. He walked over to where we both stood. Håkan looked as confused as I felt. Eira had taken off her glove and had her thumb in her mouth. Her eyes had grown in size once more, like two great berries from the bush we’d found.
“Tell me,” he said, looking from me to Håkan and back again.
I felt we’d done something naughty but couldn’t quite make out what. I held out the bag of berries. He ignored them.
“This is where the leaders of our tribe come. This is the centre of our Yggdrasil, our world tree.” He pointed at the vast stump. “It’s here we seek for visions when the time is right. So tell me.”
“We saw a bear,” said Håkan. “A nearly white bear.”
A collective sigh washed around us. The men gathered closer.
“What did he do?” asked Signy’s brother.
I bit my lower lip and then said, “He stood on his hind paws after creeping up silently, and then looked at us. He kind of glowed, and then dropped down again, and then…”
“He went quietly back into the woods and we could return.” Håkan finished my thought with better grammar.
Garral nodded.
“It’s done,” he said. “As prophesied on the drum. As seen in the vision.”
The men around us were humming as though we were inside a swarm of bees.
“You are men now,” said Garral. “Come.”
In a swift movement he used something to slice down the skin on our foreheads in the direction of our noses. Neither of us moved. A blood drop fell on the snow at my feet, spreading out into a pink blob, only to be joined by another and then a third.
“Here,” said the big Sami, and he pressed something hard into my palm. “This is a bear’s claw blessed with the blood of your vision-brother.” He said the same to Håkan. For the first time I noticed a scar between Garral’s eyebrows. Several of the men nearby had the same, but not all. Those men hung back.
“A shared vision happens once every ten generations, or so our wisest say. And for the bear to honour you both is a sign indeed that the spirits are with you and with our tribe. We will make great music as soon as we return.”
“And the other part of the prophecy?”
The man who asked the question had been the one who had held the spear to our would-be kidnapper’s nose. His hair, slightly fairer than Garral’s, stuck out from his large hat in curly tufts. He had a moustache that would make a walrus proud.
“Come,” said Garral, “we must go with speed, there are many leagues to cross before we find the comfort of our lavvus.”
As I walked over to my sled, Eira ran up and pulled my sleeve. She half-grinned and half-frowned.
“You were gone ages and ages. We’d been looking for you both for so long before you came out. Where were you?”
I didn’t have an answer to that question. I lifted her up and gave her a peck on the cheek.
“I don’t know,” I said, truthfully. “But if I had to have another sister I’d like it to be you.” Eira took off her glove and touched her fingers lightly at the centre of my forehead. It stung but I didn’t wince. I placed her down again. She ran off to her mother, taking ten-league steps.
I eased
my way back into the sled, the legs of my driver on either side, wondering what on earth the other part of the prophecy might be.
That night all the men slept in a large lavvu tent that two of our party had gone ahead and erected. Signy and Eira had a small tepee-shaped lavvu of their own. A fire near the entrance of each structure gave a smoky warmth, helped by the ample pelts. I fell asleep trying to remember what I’d been told about carbon monoxide.
The next day we shoohed through the snow, across a magical landscape of trees, hills and small frozen lakes. The sun glinted and glistened on icy branches and snow-covered rocks. We saw no one else. We did see one wolf in the distance, but he must have smelt Garral because he howled once and then sloped off over the hillcrest. I hoped he’d not gone to contact his twenty closest hungry friends.
We hardly stopped at all, and then only to drink snow-melt water – flat and tasteless – and chew more reindeer meat. The sun lay just above the tree line when we came to a large collection of lavvus in a clearing running down to a frozen lake, much smaller than the one I’d fallen into. At the centre of the lavvus stood a huge unlit bonfire of brushwood and logs. Maybe we would have a BBQ later. My mouth watered at that absurdity. Perhaps dried reindeer left something lacking from my diet.
This time Håkan and I were given a small tent. The pelts inside were soft and would have made a celebrity look great as she walked up the red carpet annoying the anti-fur brigade. Which included me, I remembered, but that was before I would have frozen to death without real fur. We lay down and filled the small space with our ripe odours. I’d become itchy in all sorts of places and hoped the raw bits wouldn’t get infected.
“Take off all your clothes”
Signy poked her head through our tent flap, letting in a final shaft of sunlight.
“Can I come in?”
We said yes, and she joined us. I’d so many questions but I let Håkan lead the way.
“Will the soldiers follow us here?”
“Garral doesn’t think so. They don’t really control this part of the country and so small a force might just disappear into one of the lakes, never to be seen again. So for now, I believe we can enjoy our freedom once more. There is no love lost by the Sami for either the Catholics or the Danes.” Signy pursed her lips. “And my people have learned over the years to just head north, if they come up against problems. We can live in the snow and most others cannot.”
She smiled at us both, her eyes losing the worry that had been in them ever since the stone circle had been spoiled with hen’s blood.
“Show me the berries,” she said. I’d entirely forgotten about those and reached into my backpack. The leather pouch protected the dark-purple fruit and none had bruised. Signy took off her glove and held a few on her palm. Her hand shook slightly.
“This fruit is very rare. It has great healing properties, cleansing the blood and giving strength to the mind as well as the arm. But the fruit bushes grow far south of here and are in season in autumn.”
She carefully replaced the three fruits in the bag.
“Keep these safe,” she said to me. “You will need them tomorrow, when you meet—”
At that point a woman we hadn’t seen before put her head through the flap at the lavvu door.
“Bring them now. All is prepared, Mistress Signy.” She grinned at Håkan’s mother, showing a mouth with slightly more teeth than my driver had.
We left the tent and crossed the compound, led by this woman whose shape approached the spherical, with her rounded body and thick jackets.
“She’s my cousin,” said Signy, “and so, Håkan, you should call her Aunt.”
Håkan nodded and his almost-aunt indicated we should enter a tent slightly larger than the one we were to sleep in.
As we went in, she said, “Take off all your clothes and throw them over here. They may need to be burned.”
We heard her chortling outside with Signy as we stripped in the chilly gloom inside the lavvu. I struggled to get my big boots off and the whiff that came when I did, nearly made me gag. The boots went out as well.
Voices and giggling greeted the clothes as we ejected them through the flap. Håkan, naked as a rugby player in the after-the-match-bath, put his head out and asked his mother for fresh clothes. Laughter and general hilarity greeted that request. A drum started beating and a sound like ten Chihuahuas howling became more and more insistent. Hands clapped in rhythm. Håkan retreated into the lavvu, his hands giving him slight modesty. I peered out. I could see the drummers thumping away on decorated drums and the tiny naked dog sounds came from four men playing pipes.
Sami of all shapes and sizes stood in two lines on either side of our entrance, making a leather-clad, laughing and smirking roadway, curving all the way to another much bigger lavvu with smoke rising from its central peak. The people having huge fun at our expense included a lot of women. Signy and Eira were crying. But not with sadness. Eira stamped her feet when she saw me and beckoned me to come out. I snapped my head back in and held the chilly leather closed. The cold air gave me goose bumps all over. I shrank at the prospect of going outside, as did every part of my body.
“It won’t get easier,” boomed a voice, “it’ll only get hotter.”
I had no idea what Garral meant, because I recognised his voice.
“Do you want me to send some mothers in to bring you out, boys?”
The general merriment that followed this suggestion indicated that many of the mothers and maybe quite a few of the daughters thought this would be great sport, to be undertaken as quickly as possible. I led the way and Håkan followed.
The snow burned against the soles of my feet. Glancing down I could see they were black with grime and sweat. Everyone clapped now and waved their hands. We ran between the smiling faces towards the bigger tent. I’d started to shiver again as I reached the doorway. We stepped into a tiny outer space made by huge flaps of leather. A hot blast of air blew against my body, giving my front heat while my bottom and back parts were still at refrigerator temperature. Håkan must’ve had experience of this because he drew open the inner flap and stepped inside. The heat was immense and hot air seared up my nostrils. All the air had a fragrance.
Around the edges of the lavvu, thick upright logs connected with slatted wood set into slots in their tops, provided places to sit that would not leave scald marks on the nether regions. In the centre of the space – a much bigger space than I’d guessed from outside – coals glowed with a fierce red light. Every few moments something outside sighed and the coals glowed once more. A small man, also as naked as we were, used a wooden ladle to slosh water on the coals; as he did so, steam spurted with the sound of a dragon clearing its throat. Already sweat had broken out all over my body. Another man, without so much as a fig leaf to provide cover, showed where we should wash. We dipped wooden pitchers into a leather and wood water butt filled with warm water. We both swooshed and swooshed streams of cleansing warmth over us, and rubbed off the worst of the grime with cloths. I luxuriated in warmth and cleanliness, letting water slowly trickle over my head, eyes and mouth, until it ran in a stream off my chin, into a gully at my feet and out of a hole at the edge of the lavvu. Once in a while a cold blast fought a losing battle with the heat from the steam. Voices outside grew quieter.
“Sit,” said the man by the fire, pointing to benches furthest from the heat. My eyes had begun to get used to the gloom and, with something akin to horror, I clocked that as we’d been washing, the rest of the tribe had been filing in. All of them. Men and women, boys and girls – all starkers. I think even a blind man facing the other way would’ve seen me blush. I turned around to Håkan. He sat, with his eyes closed, naked as nature intended – as the saying goes – with sweat breaking out all over him. I guessed he’d done something like this before – or that he’d not yet realised.
“Come,” said the monosyllabic man. He beckoned for both of us to get up. As we walked the twenty-mile long walk to the door, I stared
straight ahead. Even my peripheral vision showed no one was looking. Our Sami friends chatted quietly or just sat glowing in the heat.
We exited into the stunning cold.
“Roll,” said the man, pointing to virgin snow to the side of the lavvu, where no one had walked since the last snow fall. Håkan, showing an understanding of Swedish life I’d never encountered, plunged into the snow. He rolled around.
The man came over and gave us both some light birch branches.
“Hit.”
We did. Gently. Our skin glowed pink in the lamplight from torches that fluttered and wavered near the big sauna tent. At first I’d the uncanny experience of being somewhere really cold and feeling really hot. I’d never ever felt so clean.
Gradually others came out and took a snow dip and a thrashing. Some really did hit themselves hard. As everyone hadn’t a stitch of clothing on I lost my shyness, at least a tiny bit. When I started shivering Håkan said we should go back inside. The heat was truly wonderful wrapping itself all around me and encouraging the sweat of fear to pour out.
In and out we went a few more times. Fear left. A great, warm peace took its place. Our chatty friend led us back to our tent and said “dress!” We did. Soft leather over some strange but effective undergarments. Socks that caressed the legs and boots that were snug. Even round hats with embroidery. I didn’t have a mirror but knew that after that long in snow and sun even I would pass for a young Sami.
The Three Women
Once more voices sounded outside and the drums became insistent. I stepped out into paradise. The sun had long since set and no moon had risen. Right above stars shone and nearer the horizon, a light both mysterious and wonderful danced in the sky, illuminating the whole encampment. Waving and shimmering, luminous sheets reached up into the heavens, glowing with a green of unsurpassed beauty. I’d never seen anything so glorious before. I forgot where I was. I almost forgot who I was. Sheer joy swept through me. I knew I wasn’t seeing the outer edges of heaven, but I might as well have been. I’d always thought of heaven as being coloured green – a silly fancy from before going to primary school. What did they call this: Aurora Borax? Aura Bra-less? No, that couldn’t be right. I grinned a private grin to myself. Someone took my hand. I still had so much heat from the sauna, I’d bare hands. Eira smiled up at me, her face dancing with firelight and her eyes green with star-fire. Yes. I’d adopt her as a sister.
Time Knot Page 28