by Jason Born
“Do you like your gift?” I asked. “I hope you take them as a good token for our marriage,” the last I added quietly so as not to ruin the surprise when Erik announced it at the Thing.
She gave me a puzzled look and said, “They are the type of gift I would expect from one who would be a great warrior. I am sure there will be more where that came from.”
I was not so sure there would be much more where that came from. I was about to clarify my future plans for Freydis and me when a man’s voice rose above the noise. A skald from Norway who was wintering in Greenland had stood and began to sing verse, first about how Odin earned the gift of poetry and then about a past hero of our people, Erik Bloodaxe.
Praise to Odin
Who hanged himself from the tree
Nine agonizing days for his kin
To steal from the giants
The mead we know as poetry
Here follows Head-Ransom:
A song in praise
Of the prince I raise,
And him now pray
To hear my lay . . .
Did the shower-of-darts
Strike shield-ramparts
Of the prince’s array
As he plunged in the fray,
When on the sands
Of surf-beaten strands,
Brimming with blood,
The battle stood . . .
Slammed halberds dire
‘gainst helmet-fire,
Bit winged arrow
Into warriors’ marrow,
By steel ice-cold
Struck, I am told,
Fell Odin’s-trees
In weapon-breeze.
When he finished the familiar tale the entire hall erupted with cheer. The clapping and shouting nearly shook the turf-encrusted longhouse to the ground. Sleeping dogs woke with a start and began howling. The exhausted, ale-filled children remained still and sleeping, however. Freydis was enraptured and I forgot all about my need to talk with her.
Mjolnir, the man who would lead the Thing along with Erik, was nearby and called out. “All our heroes are not in the past. We have two with us tonight whose recent exploits should become the stuff of legends. Leif Eriksson and Halldorr Olefsson are two young men who face death and win. They attack the enemy against overwhelming odds and prevail!” The last he said as he hoisted his over-sized drinking cup into the air. The crowd again erupted in cheer and shouting.
Before I could react, Freydis was on top of me. She smothered my lips in her own and covered our entire bodies with a blanket. She quickly lowered my trousers, lifted her dress, and put me inside her. My hands moved down her back and seized her ass. Now biting my lip, she began to move up and down, slowly and rhythmically. The scent of ale oozed from both our pores and made me even drunker as we both moaned with pleasure.
From somewhere beyond the blanket I heard Leif say he was going to spend the night on a barrow-mound. I grunted something in return and went on thrusting into his half sister and my future wife. I looked at the brooches which hung before me. Behind them were Freydis’s beautiful breasts hidden beneath her clothing. As I struggled with the clasps on her brooch for a second time tonight, I thought about her, about us, about the missing Bjarni, and that the man who would pronounce judgment on me thinks I am a hero. The clasps came free and my hand felt the warm soft flesh beneath. I closed my eyes and worked breathlessly to end the day.
The day of the Thing arrived. The people of Eystribyggo were following the lead of the sun, rousing later and later in the morning. But, today’s delay in waking had more to do with the previous several days and nights of drinking ale during the Winternights festival. Despite my headache I sat at the edge of my bed anticipating the day. We had no fog that I could see through the smoke hole in the gable end of my house. The wind must be low because I could not hear the whistling sound it made as it cut through the buildings of Brattahlid. No one reported seeing Bjarni all week. Leif and I would be vindicated today. I would be married in a month. The day of the Thing had arrived!
I leaned over to the floor and pulled on my boots. For the first time since Winternights I woke up with clothing on. I had slept next to Freydis in Erik’s longhouse each night since I purchased the brooches. But last night I spent singing songs with Thorvald, Cnute, and a handful of others so I found my way back home. Cnute was a dependable Norseman. He was part of Bjarni’s crew on the fateful voyage to Greenland and was the man who spoke up that first day in Erik’s home. Since that day it was clear Cnute preferred to remain quiet. Last night he simply listened to Thorvald and I sing and carry on.
I stood uneasily, stepping over Cnute who was still asleep on my floor under his cloak. My wash basin was next to my hearth and I took the two steps to bend and splash water on my face. I stripped to the waist and washed with soap made by Thjordhildr’s servants. I reached for my comb and began to comb out any stray tangles in my beard and hair. I was proud of my comb. It was made from the tusk of the first walrus I killed. One of the artisans in the community carved it for me in exchange for meat from the beast. The comb was two-sided with one side carrying coarse teeth and the other finer teeth. The two sides were separated by a solid band of ivory on which the carver included runes proclaiming the mighty Thor as god. I would look worthy of marrying the daughter of the jarl of Greenland today.
A small rumble of hunger reminded me to eat so I rummaged through my stores of salted meat. I selected two small pieces of cold mutton and turned back to the hearth to stoke the dormant flames.
The activity finally caused to Cnute to stir. He rolled to his back and raised his torso on his elbows, looking at the underside of the roof.
After a few moments I said, “Good morning.” When he didn’t respond I leaned to my right over the hearth to see if he heard me. “Good morning,” I said again. Cnute carried a worried look on his face. “Are you alright?” I asked finally.
He sighed heavily, “No . . . Yes. I’ve got a complicated problem.”
“Do you need help,” I offered.
Cnute at last looked up to me and his face brightened. “Today is your day. Let’s get going.” He stood and his concern seemed to melt away.
I gave him mutton and we drank mead from my personal store. He too washed and groomed then we stepped outside into the most beautiful morning I had seen at this time of the year in Greenland. The bright sun felt warm so I turned toward it to capture the heat on my face. My optimism built with the warmth and I smiled to myself. Today was my day.
Cnute tapped my shoulder saying, “We should get moving to the Thing.” I nodded and the two of us circled the pasture to walk past Erik’s longhouse to the gathering. Many of Erik’s guests were already on their way to Fridr Rock. A parade of Greenlanders ambled ahead of us to the meeting. Erik himself would surely be there by now talking with the elders of the community and preparing to run the assembly. As we passed the door to his home, Leif stepped out into the light.
“Where have you been? I haven’t seen you since the first night of the festival,” I asked. Then without waiting for an answer I added, “The weather is a great gift from Thor. It is a good omen for today’s outcome, no?” I said cheerfully.
Standing in the threshold, Leif looked to Cnute then to me and said glumly, “I am afraid a doom will certainly befall us.” The first night of Winternights as we were watching Erik throw the bone into the fire for the elves, Leif had been supremely confident. This new attitude was a change I did not expect.
“But Leif, we have the good omen of the weather, no one has seen Bjarni for days, Mjolnir thinks we are heroes, what can make you think a doom is coming?” I said trying to maintain my optimism and to share a little with my friend. When he delayed in responding I grabbed Leif by the arm to force him along the path with Cnute.
We walked wordlessly for a time before Leif started to propel himself. “I spent an entire night on a barrow-mound,” Leif answered flatly.
Cnute and I stopped in our tracks looking at one another with wi
de eyes. Leif slowly ambled on. “Were you able to stay awake all night?” I asked when I regained my composure. Leif merely shook his head, “Yes,” without uttering a word.
“So is this how you are able to divine our future so certainly?” I asked. If a man is able to sit on a barrow-mound or grave all night without falling asleep or losing his mind, legend says he gains amazing abilities from the gods. Among them is the ability to foretell the future.
Once again he shook his head, “Yes,” while slowly walking to the Thing.
The typically quiet Cnute was at last compelled to act. He stopped Leif, holding his arms with both hands. Cnute shook him and asked with severe agitation, “What did you see? Tell us now!”
“On the morning following my night on the grave, I saw a clear vision. Blood was spilled over Fridr Rock. Dead Norsemen scattered about. I saw shit.” Leif now paused as if uncertain to continue. Cnute threw up on the side of the path. Too much ale. Leif looked at me then said, “I saw Freydis. She was with child.”
Shaking my head, I forced a laugh, “Leif, a child is to be expected. I have filled her with my seed for a week! This all means nothing. Weapons aren’t even permitted at the Thing. There can’t be blood.”
Leif looked into my eyes with dread, “In my vision you were not the father, you were not the husband, you were not even living in Eystribyggo.” He clutched my shoulder and then continued on toward the Thing.
I looked after him trying to clear my mind. I woke up with total confidence. Now the normally confident Leif was draining my own; all because he hallucinated after lack of sleep and too much ale. I would not allow it. This was a great day. I would marry the object of my desire. I would be the master of my own longhouse and farm. Freydis would give me a brood of children. Destiny was in my control.
Cnute was dry heaving now. I grabbed the sleeve of his jerkin and compelled him to move with me down the path.
Fridr Rock was actually not a single rock at all. It was a host of enormous boulders that looked as if the Giants of Frost and Fire had carefully plucked them from the mountains then placed them in the narrow meadow at the inland-most tip of Eriksfjord. Winding paths and hidden coves were situated between the boulders. Children were often known to disappear into the paths to play the entire day.
Erik named the set of rocks Fridr Rock or Peace Rock because he intended the Thing held there under his stewardship to promote the peace of his new community. The Thing had served its purpose well in deciding boundary disputes and missing chickens since it was first held in Greenland. Fridr, too, served us well. A particularly large rock was about two hundred paces from the end of the fjord. A man could easily climb it from behind and Erik did so to conduct the Thing twice each year. Between that rock and the fjord was a smooth grassy land ideal for congregating Norse men and women. Erik’s voice would project clearly out to the crowd because two taller rocks behind the first leaned forward to force the sound out. Behind these two rocks were the rest of the boulders and the nooks they created. Inland, the land then sloped gently upwards to form a set of curving hills to act as stunning backdrop to the proceedings.
The Thing this year would be the biggest yet. The number of immigrants to Greenland grew year by year. As Cnute and I approached, I guessed that there might be four hundred in attendance this year. It was an impressive site. At the focal point was Erik, talking with elders and looking quite regal. He wore his best set of clothes complete with a large, gold ring-pin for his cloak and a gold ring on each hand. Held at his side in his right hand was a light battle axe. It would be the only weapon anywhere near Fridr Rock today. The rules of the Thing forbade any weapons or anything that could be used as a weapon. I even left my beloved saex at my home. I always thought this was a sensible rule because of the delicate issues discussed. An angry, sword-wielding Norseman could do much damage in a crowd. In a symbolic gesture he learned from the Althing in Iceland, Erik would heave the axe he now carried into the fjord; making it clear this was to be a peaceful meeting.
Leif was ahead of us slowly making his way to the front of the crowd near the rock. We would both be required to stand at its base in order to plead our side of the story. If Bjarni was here, he too, would tell his side from just below Fridr. Then I saw him. Bjarni, complete with a self-assured expression, was already here, talking and laughing at the base of the rock. He wore the brightest blue cloak I had ever seen; around him stood most of his men. So my vindication would be tougher than I thought. Perhaps Leif’s vision was just a premonition of Bjarni’s return. Nothing more.
Bjarni nodded solemnly as Leif walked into the circle and then looked over Leif’s shoulder at Cnute and me. After giving me a copy of the nod, Bjarni gave Cnute a sour stare. Cnute looked away as if he were going to be sick again.
When we caught up to Leif I gave him my best reassuring expression. His dazed look had subsided and he began to look like himself. He leaned in to say something but before he could finish a voice thundered from the rock. Mjolnir called, “Thank you all for coming to Eriksfjord’s Thing. This will always be a demonstration of our intent to live in harmony with one another. We have three items to judge today. They are disputes between Vifilsson and Thorgeirson regarding a land transaction, Ormsdottir and Runoflson on the sale of a longboat, and finally the matter of Eriksson, Olefsson, and Herjolfsson.” Gesturing to the base of the stage he finished his introduction, “Before we start, our leader, Erik Thorvaldsson will throw the axe into the fjord.”
As intended, Erik had used the Winternights festival to reinforce the positive image his subjects had of him. That was evident by the reaction the crowd gave him with Mjolnir’s introduction. Clapping and shouting echoed throughout the meadow and across the fjord. Erik raised the axe above his head, holding it with both hands, absorbing the praise. After two heartbeats he lowered the axe and began walking to the shingle. The crowd again became silent. Before him, the assembly parted to make a path which rapidly closed behind him. Eight hundred eyes followed Erik’s progress. His feet crossed from the scruffy grass onto the stones. It became so quiet that I could hear the crush of the stones beneath his feet. At the water’s edge he turned to face the crowd. This time when he raised the axe the crowd stayed quiet. Erik lowered the axe and turned to face the water. He leaned back with the axe in his right hand and launched the axe far out into the fjord to the same place the last six axes of the last six Things had landed. This time a small iceberg was in the way and the axe bounced off the side on its way to the inlet. When the axe finally broke the water’s surface, the crowd renewed their cheering.
And the shit and blood began to pour.
Erik turned to face the crowd and Fridr Rock. His smile vanished and his eyes grew wide. His shout was drowned out by the cheering of the people but his look turned feral and he ran toward the rock flailing his hands wildly, the pressing crowd stopping his progress. Leif and I turned to see the stone head of a spear protruding from Mjolnir’s bleeding belly. Behind him countless skraeling warriors wielding spears and bows teemed onto the rock from behind. A group of the warriors made it to the edge near Bjarni and his men then must have thought better of jumping into such a collection. These skraelings turned right and joined their brothers in leaping off toward the group surrounding Leif and me. Another man to my left went down from an arrow. A boy of about nine was struck violently in the head with a spear, his bowels loosened and shit spread out down his legs onto the ground.
By now, panic spread across the crowd of Norsemen and women. People scattered in all directions. I reached for my saex and cursed when I remembered that my weapon, everyone’s weapon was back in the main village. Over the screams Leif shouted, “We must form a defense of the children and women.”
We both began screaming that the women and children were to run toward the village, men should form a line between those fleeing and the attackers. With no weapon all I could do was push women in the right direction and force the men to stay. Many did not. I looked toward the rock hoping for assi
stance from Bjarni’s hardened crew, but I could see none of them except for Cnute who was beating a skraeling to death with a fist-sized rock.
Leif began to gain composure despite the fact that Sindri’s wife fell next to him with a thick arrow lodged in her cheek. “The stones,” he shouted. “The stones! Men grab stones and start heaving them. We must slow them down until weapons can arrive! If we retreat they’ll cut us down one-by-one!”