God's Daughter (Vikings of the New World Saga)

by Heather Day Gilbert

Footsteps sound on the rocks above, and Suka’s face appears at the top of the caves. He could easily be mistaken for one of the Skraelings here. He has the same slant to his eyes and wide cheekbones, though his skin is darker. His hand rests on his sword, and he’s furious.

  “You stop there!” I shout.

  Freydis sobs into my shoulder, more like a grieving mother now than the wild animal she’s been. Suka pulls out his sword. I’m not surprised he wants to challenge me here, where no one can protect me. He thinks I’m a weak woman. He thinks wrong.

  Pushing Freydis back first, I tuck my skirts into my belt. I drop my shawl to the ground before pulling my seax from its sheath. Suka stands above me on the rocky ledge and laughs.

  “You need time to adjust your skirts, wife of Karlsefni?” The sinews in his arms bulge as he flashes his sword around. “You know I can run you through before you can hoist that knife into the air, blaudur!”

  He has to climb down to fight me. I’m counting on this.

  Freydis crawls toward her cave. I try to provoke him. “Only a coward steals another man’s wife. Maybe you couldn’t find a wife of your own. Believe me, you can’t run fast enough from your death, slave.”

  “In this land, I am free!” he shouts. “You don’t rule me here, nor does your husband or even your chieftain lover, Leif!”

  I don’t correct him. He needs to know that Leif takes a personal interest in my safety. “You’re a slave until death, Skraeling!” My voice echoes from the rocks.

  It is enough. He jumps down off the lowest rock. As he straightens up, my wolf lunges from behind, where she was waiting in front of Freydis’ cave. She attacks his sword arm, biting and shaking it. His sword drops. “Call off your wolf, woman!” he screams.

  If I knew how, I might do that, to spare Freydis from seeing this attack. The wolf jumps at Suka’s midsection, biting repeatedly. I don’t dare lift my seax to her, or she might get confused and attack me. Instead, I run into the cave with Freydis. She rocks herself on the floor, peering out at Suka.

  “He said he loved me, he loved me....”

  I don’t respond, holding my seax in front of us, so I’ll be ready to face the winner of this struggle. Suka fumbles for his sword with his uninjured hand. I wrap my free hand around Freydis’ eyes. It’s too soon for her to see another death.

  The sword clangs against the rocks as Suka drops it again. He’s bleeding everywhere, it seems. His legs buckle. My wolf’s fur is sticky as she jumps for him. I close my eyes.

  Suddenly, Ref shouts from above and a spear hits the rocks. He’s tracked us. My wolf runs through an opening on the far side of the rock bowl, uninjured. Ref and Snorri Thorbrandsson clamber down the rocks. When I call out, Ref runs toward us, the pained look growing in his eyes as he takes in Freydis’ appearance. He’s a broken man.

  Snorri examines Suka, then picks up my favorite shawl and wraps it around the gaping wound on his arm. He looks at me and shakes his head. I wonder what he’ll think of me if I’ve killed one of our men.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Freydis sits on the cold rock floor of the cave, unwilling to go back to camp. But Ref has determined to get her there, and he’ll carry her the entire way if he has to. I’ve never seen this small man stand up to his hot-headed wife before. He’s more Viking than I thought.

  While Ref gathers Freydis’ few things, Snorri and I rip up more clothing to wrap around Suka’s stomach. He’s lost so much blood, I don’t know how his heart still beats. His eyes are closed, but his chest continues moving, if only slightly. It’s selfish, but I hate that Suka’s death would mean we’d lose another defender of the camp.

  Snorri finally convinces Ref to help carry Suka back to camp on a blanket held between them. I’m to stay with Freydis until they come back. Ref’s clenched jaw and tensed back show that he’d rather drop Suka to the ground and watch him bleed out. However, he wouldn’t go against Snorri, undermining Thorfinn Karlsefni’s commands.

  I wrap my arms around myself to fight the chill, wishing for my soft shawl. In the back of the cave, I find another blanket, so I wrap it around Freydis’ bony shoulders before I go about starting a fire. At least Suka has provided her with firewood. As I rummage about for kindling, it becomes evident Suka has been sleeping here. There are two mats, padded with leaves and blankets. They’re so close together, they might as well be one. I don’t think Ref has noticed this yet. I consider hauling out the leaves from one mat, but instead, decide to burn them.

  I bring Freydis closer to the fire, growing hot with the leaves I threw on it. She strokes the blanket.

  “What happened?”

  I don’t know if she asks about her baby or the fight with Suka. But when she starts cradling the blanket, she removes any question.

  “You know, Freydis. You’ve given birth to a son.”

  I wait, hoping her mind will fill with the image of her child. She grips the blanket tighter.

  “He was blue, wasn’t he? Gudrid, was he dead?”

  “Yes, sister. You were strong in the birth. But he wasn’t healthy, even inside you. We buried him that day, in the forest. He has a runestone so you can see his place.”

  “Ref?” she asks. Maybe she realizes her husband grieves, as well.

  “He needs you—he’s been frantic for you.”

  “I must go to him.” She awkwardly rakes her fingers through her tangled hair.

  “You will. But we will clean you first.” There’s hot water in a pot over the fire, which I mix with cold water in the back of the cave. I search until I find a wool tunic that looks somewhat clean, and begin to wash her body. She hasn’t cleaned herself since the birth, so the smell is worse than a dead body. However, it hasn’t made her ill, as far as I can see. It’s only on the outside. Perhaps God used this stench to protect her from Suka, as well.

  “God watches over you, firebrand.” I hum as I scrub, thankful she’s coming back to camp.

  “Whose god, Gudrid? Not mine.” She pays attention now.

  “I don’t speak of Thor—but you know this already.”

  “Strange for you to say, volva.” I’m glad she’s getting some of the bite back into her words, even as she tries to hurt me with them.

  “There is a God in heaven; that much we can see,” I say. “Who else could have made the ocean, the sun, and the stars that we can’t even reach? We both know it’s not Thor, a god who can be killed by a serpent. Or Odin, who gets gobbled by a wolf at the end of the world.”

  “You’re right about that, but no god cares much for humans, anyway. And where’s the god who cared for my child? Don’t tell me he protects me, only to take my babe. I couldn’t respect a god who did that.”

  I won’t argue with her on this, at least not now. Her anger shows she understands what’s happened to her child.

  “You need to eat, and soon.” I stir the already-dying fire. “Do you have any food in here?”

  “There’s smoked herring in the bag over there.” She gestures to the dark corner.

  We eat the tough fish, then I put more leaves and wood on the fire, now sputtering in the damp of the cave. I pray the men return tonight. It seems to be taking too long.

  The sun is mostly hidden behind thick gray clouds when it finally sets. This isn’t a good sign for the weather tomorrow. The air holds a smell I’ve tried to forget since last winter, when our supplies were almost gone. Snow. And fall has only just started.

  The leaves crunch on the rocks above, and Ref jumps down. He doesn’t even look around the cave, keeping his eyes on Freydis. She gets up from the bed and runs into his arms. I burn another small pile of leaves, giving them time. While I’m moved by their unusual display of affection, I try to push down my own loneliness.

  Ref speaks in his slow, quiet way. “We’ll leave now. Is there anything we need to take?”

  Freydis shakes her head, but I pick up her bag from the corner anyway. Ref pours water over the fire.

  Outside, I climb up the rocks first, then R
ef gives Freydis a boost so I can grab her hands. His lantern sits at the top of the rocks, throwing flickering light on our faces. The tight bones of Freydis’ face seem sharper as the shadows fill her cheek hollows.

  When they both get to the top, Freydis leans heavily on Ref’s arm, still weak even after eating the fish. At the camp, she’ll have to rest for days on end.

  I want to ask Ref about Suka, but he and Freydis don’t need any reminder of our attacker. I find my footing by watching how Ref’s lantern dips and sways ahead of me. The forest is black and endless.

  Hopefully my wolf has bedded down somewhere. Ref’s spear didn’t hit her—she ran too quickly for it. She gave me the advantage of surprise with Suka. If I’m honest, I know he would have defeated me if we’d fought. I may know how to use a knife, but Suka’s larger than me, and a trained Viking warrior.

  At the creek bed, Ref carries Freydis across. Once he sets her down, he places the lantern on the opposite bank. I slide down my side of the bank on the leaves and mud, then hitch my skirts up again, dreading the feeling of the icy water on my legs. I make long jumps through the water, not splashing too much.

  Ref reaches down and pulls me up to the other side. As he does, he has a twinkle in his mismatched eyes. Like Eirik the Red, Ref has an amused respect for my determination.

  “I was coming to get you, Gudrid, but you’re too fast for me.”

  I return his smile, my lips cracking. It’s been weeks since I’ve smiled. I pull my skirts back down, and we continue toward the camp.

  On the way, I talk with God. The darkness covers me, making me comfortable. Freydis and Ref are in a world of their own, a world of love and pain, wrapped in marriage vows.

  Finn is on my mind—every part of him. I can see the flecks of darker blue in his eyes, the tattoo moving on his arm sinews, and the way his hair curls over his small ears. I pray again for his health, and for success in his search. He’s a trader, I tell myself. His very livelihood depends on finding a shipload of goods in Vinland. But what if he wants to settle there, instead of returning to Greenland? When I came to this new world, I chose my husband over my safety. Now that I have a child, would I do it again?

  I’ve always been a loyal wife, going with my husbands wherever they wanted to travel. The Eastman took us from my Icelandic home to Greenland, finally wrecking our ship in his drunkenness. Thorstein the Red sailed for Vinland to avenge his brother’s death, only to get so off-course we had to live in upper Greenland through the winter.

  And now Finn follows his dreams of plundering Leif’s Vinland, but already, we’ve had a near-mutiny, sickness, and an attack by the Skraelings. I didn’t have to come here. In fact, Finn never asked me to. I was stubborn and unwilling to be apart from him for so long.

  The Eastman made a journey, then became ill and died. The same thing happened to Thorstein the Red. Somehow, my life was spared both times.

  But I don’t want to survive if Finn dies on this journey. Foolish thought for a woman with a baby boy to live for, but it’s true. Since Finn left me, I have not been myself. Unlike my other husbands, my love for him grows stronger when he’s away from me. True, I’m surrounded by men, not only here at camp, but in my own intrusive dreams every night. But I know these dreams are wrong, and I fight to keep my mind from wandering to Leif every time I feel abandoned.

  There are men who love me, or at least think they do. Snorri Thorbrandsson. Leif. But here, in the darkness of my soul, I don’t want either of them. It’s Finn I want, and Finn I will need for the rest of my days. I’ve finally married a man I love so much that I can’t stand to be without him.

  I’m smiling as we reach the camp. The longhouse fires are still glowing, strange for this time of night. Perhaps the women work with Suka, or they’re waiting up for Freydis.

  I run forward, giving Ref’s arm a light squeeze. “I’ll stop here,” I say. He nods and takes Freydis toward their hut, where he’s probably set out food for her return.

  I walk into the longhouse, but I’m not prepared for what I see.

  Finn, holding our son in his lap.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  The earth seems to rise and swallow my feet, preventing me from being in his arms fast enough. My Finn. The smell and feel of him overwhelms me as we embrace, our child between us. He smells like ocean salt and sweat from ship-work. The darkened circles under his eyes alarm me. His gaze reflects deep sadness, too, and I wonder if someone has told him about Freydis’ child or Suka’s attack.

  It’s been at least six weeks since Finn has held me. Already the trees are red and gold. I can think of no words to say.

  He holds me closer. “We found the wheat. And a land teeming with fish and deer. We took logs that will make Ref cry, the burl on them is so beautiful. But it was time to come back.”

  “So you found Leif’s Vinland?” I hold baby Snorri’s leg, stilling his excited kicks.

  “We did. We camped there for the month. It's a much larger camp than ours. Don’t know why, since Leif didn’t take as many men as we did.”

  Of course the camp was too large. Leif does everything on a grand scale, as befits the chieftain son of Eirik the Red.

  “So Hallstein went the wrong direction.” I wonder where he is now, if he gave up and sailed for Greenland with no goods for Leif. Or perhaps he might return to our camp....

  Finn chuckles, and the sound warms me. “Old Bjarni was right, Vinland was south of us. And not so very far away, my love.”

  I look up, waiting for him to say we’ll settle in the south, in that land full of choice goods. But he doesn’t.

  “I prayed for you.” I lay my head on his shoulder, while the baby clutches at Finn’s tunic.

  “I know.” Finn adjusts my sleeve, fingering my arm. “The men got sick. It spread like fire on the ship, but I didn’t become ill. It was your prayers, Gudrid. I could almost feel them.”

  Nerienda comes into the longhouse, smiling through her crooked teeth at Finn. She turns to me. “Suka is alive. But he needs something to stop the bleeding. Do you have an herbal cure?”

  I do, but I don’t want to leave my family here. Finn sees this, and motions me toward the door. We need to save the warrior slave, no matter how disloyal he may be. I kiss Finn, reveling in the moist strength of his lips. Linnea stands nearby, waiting for me to kiss the baby and pass him to her. She has filled a bottle for the night so she can put him to sleep.

  Outside, the starless sky darkens the camp like a heavy cloak. I light a fire in our hut for Linnea, then take the herb box and sneak out before she comes in with my boy. Nerienda, waiting outside, leads me to one of the men’s huts. Suka is the only one inside. His groans are subdued, which either means Nerienda’s given him something for pain or else he’s growing weaker.

  “Bjorr,” she explains. It’s the sweetest and most potent of our drinks. From the way Suka’s eyes are half-closed, Nerienda must have given him plenty.

  She has wrapped his arm tightly with fresh cloths, but the blood still seeps through. Once I pull back the cloths and examine the deep, ragged gash, I know what I’ll have to do. In Iceland, I watched the monk sew large wounds together with a needle and thread. He used a simple stitch, then rubbed the wound with herbs.

  I could use leeches to staunch the flow, but I don’t like using that method, even though many Europeans swear by it. It seems to me the life is in the blood, and once the blood is gone, so is the life.

  “Is this the deepest wound?” I ask. Nerienda nods. He’ll have scars on his back and stomach, but nothing to match this arm wound. It’s as if there’s not enough flesh to cover it. Still, it’s a wonder the wolf didn’t tear the arm off when she shook it.

  “I need a clean thread and a needle.”

  Nerienda nods, then shuffles off to her hut to retrieve them, taking longer than I’d like. I use hot water and a rag to clean the wound and slow the bleeding. When Nerienda returns, I apply fire to the needle, as the monk showed me. He said it makes it easier to pierc
e the flesh.

  Suka seems unaware as I stitch the outside of his arm. I’m careful not to pull the skin too taut, so it won’t pucker. I prop my elbow on Suka’s bed, making pass after pass through the wound, until my fingers ache. Nerienda holds the lantern over me, mouth open. She’s never seen this before.

  As I finish, I instruct her to make a paste with thyme and garlic. As she gives it to me, I crush a few dried mushrooms from Europe in my hand, then mix them into the paste. I lightly rub the pungent salve over his stitches. The mushrooms will help keep the wound clean. Finally, we wrap fresh cloths around it.

  I tell Nerienda how often to dress the wound before finally heading to our hut. Finn waits outside the door for me, sitting on the small stones. It’s early morning now, and the sun already lights the edges of the sky.

  He takes my arm, motioning toward the forest. “Linnea had to stay with Snorri last night. He was over-excited to have me back, I guess. So I just stayed outside till you came back.” He smiles, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

  I’m thankful he did, because I don’t like the thought of Finn alone in our hut with the entrancing Linnea. Even though I trust him, what man wouldn’t be tempted?

  At the edge of the woods where the stockade ends, the waves crash against the rocky shoreline. It feels strange standing together after all Finn has missed. I wish I could explain to him how I’ve been brave in some ways, yet so needy in others.

  I can’t even look at the forest without holding my breath, as I did when we hid from the Skraelings, and later, from Suka. I see Freydis’ dead child when I close my eyes. Finn has missed these experiences that will stay with me forever.

  He knows my thoughts. “Snorri has told me much. You’ve been braver than any Viking woman should have to be, Gudrid. You truly are a chieftain’s daughter.”

  Just hearing these words of high praise from Finn brings embarrassing tears into my eyes. I bury my face in his chest. He wraps his arms around me.

  “I can’t tell you how relieved I was to find Snorri so healthy. You have a gift for healing, my volva girl. I’ll admit I feared the worst.” His voice catches. “And Suka still lives this morning?”