by Mark Coakley
SISTER LEOBA: I told you everything I know. If Abbess Tetta has other sins, they are hidden. That is the truth.
BISHOP HIGBOLD: Peasant fool. Get out. This interview is over. You are useless and crazy and dull. We are tired of seeing your ugly cow-face, smelling you. Your Sisters are outside, to take you back to the miserium. Give my best to the Holy Virgin, the next time She drops by to sing ballads.
SISTER LEOBA: What about the special dispensation? To see the Holy Land?
BISHOP HIGBOLD: You broke your side of the arrangement.
SISTER LEOBA: I told the truth!
BISHOP HIGBOLD: Did we ask for the truth? Return to the dark and silence and your hallucinations. We will tell Abbess Tetta to keep you locked in the miserium until we return for next year's interviews. We hope you will be more helpful then.
SISTER LEOBA: A year in there! [Screams.] Jerusalem! You're no Christian! [Spits.]
BISHOP HIGBOLD: Sisters, come in! Grab her! Both of you, grab onto her!
SISTER LEOBA: Demon! Hypocrite! He is a demon!
SISTER WILTHBURGA: She actually attacked you, Your Reverence? Tsk. Ellen, hold her legs. Tighter. Yeah. Is this trouble-maker going back to the hole?
SISTER LEOBA: Dragon-sleeved demon! I knew it by your clothes! Deceiver!
SISTER WILTHBURGA: Shut up, you thing. [Unintelligible.] Twist that foot, Ellen, if she keeps kicking.
BISHOP HIGBOLD: Drag her back. Until next year, Sister Leoba. Brother Ecgfrith, stop writing.
Chapter 21
A HIDDEN FOE
Now we shall tell of Venn the Coward. Shocked by Halfdan's cruel execution of his older brother, Torvald, and by the gruesome events of battle, Venn's character had changed. There was almost always a clanging noise deep in his ears. Sometimes, when he was alone, he also heard mocking voices. Venn always felt tired. He tried to avoid his fellow veterans. When somebody tried to start conversation with him, their words often seemed irrelevant and irritating. Many things irritated him. At night, trying to sleep in a Sogndal-house that had been turned into a fighters-barracks, the sound of other Fjordane-men talking sounded like the grunting of dumb, annoying beasts.
Any noise made it hard for Venn to sleep, so he was sometimes too tired to do his military duties properly. He was lucky that no officer inspected him closely, because the tip of his spear was starting to rust from lack of oiling and sharpening. Once, when guarding the caged camp outside Sogndal where political prisoners were crammed, Venn fell into a deep sleep; luckily, he was woken up by another farm-boy recruit, not by an officer.
Venn's right arm hurt, especially when he remembered the battle and belly-stabbing that Sogn-man. Sometimes, his right hand would go limp and whatever was in it would fall to the ground.
Sometimes, random laughter would burst from Venn's lips. Sometimes, he told jokes that nobody else found even slightly funny. The jokes were senseless or childish. Venn had never been popular; now, when he was so strange, some fighters started to actively avoid him.
Venn paid less and less attention to folk and the world around him — obsessed with memories of wet training and battle and the CLANGING! in his ears and the invisible, mocking voices in his mind. And he was obsessed with Halfdan, full of wanting revenge on that ugly, black-faced, bloody-handed tyrant.
Nobody in Sogn knew that Torvald had been his brother. Nobody knew that Venn wanted revenge — was aching to kill Halfdan. But Venn knew that there were obstacles to revenge. First, there were usually many bodyguards near Halfdan at all times. Second, even if he had a chance to strike Halfdan, Venn did not know if he would be able to do it. His disturbed mind might go blank, or his arm might freeze or go limp. Venn still hated violence, and did not know if he would be able to hurt somebody again, even his brother's killer. Third, if Venn was able to get close enough to Halfdan and was able to kill him, what then? Venn would be caught. He had heard about cruel ways of killing: the blood-worm (guts pulled out and wrapped around a tree-trunk), the blood-eagle (lungs pulled out from cuts in the back), and even worse ends.
When his mind was quiet enough for him to think, Venn would try to imagine a way to both kill Halfdan and escape slow death by torture himself.
Chapter 22
YNGVILD COMES TO SOGN
When the spring-weather was warm enough to make sailing safe, Yngvild left Siv in the care of a kindly neighbour (who was training to be a healer, and was awed by Siv's fame in that art). Yngvild got onto a trading-ship for Sogndal.
Except for two armed slaves (middle-aged men with families in Eid) for protection from violence, she was alone. As mentioned earlier, Halfdan had sent messengers to Eid and Os asking his loved ones to visit him in his conquered kingdom. Uncle Harald's leg was aching too much to let him sail so far; Aunt Anna had not wanted to leave her husband behind, alone in the house; Halfdan's foster-brothers and foster-sisters (who were also his cousins) were all too busy with farms and children; and Uncle Gunnar and Aunt Ragnhild were very angry at Halfdan, blaming him for recklessly causing the death of their son, Fisk, at the battle of the beacon.
Yngvild had spent an anxious winter. Until the messenger arrived — weeks after Halfdan and his army had sneaked away without her — she had had no way of knowing if he was still alive or not. Her relief at hearing the good war-news had been mixed with still-smouldering anger over how he had left without telling her. It had been very rude. After all, he knew that Yngvild had been abandoned by her husband, two years ago, and Halfdan should know better than do anything that might make her worry about him doing the same. Her mother had agreed that Halfdan should have told her that he was leaving Eid, but Siv had then surprised Yngvild by defending Halfdan — the first time she had ever done that — by saying, "He did not do it to hurt you. He needed to keep his plans secret from Njal, and he thought it safest if he told nobody, with no exceptions, even you." By the spring thaw, when sunlight finally came back, Yngvild's fury had mostly melted away, replaced by excited anticipation to see him again.
Yngvild had heard that Halfdan was in a position to make himself king of Fjordane and/or Sogn. She daydreamed about being a queen — powerful, finely-dressed and respected by all. Married to a famous king.
The trading-ship's deck was piled with bundles of beast-furs collected in the winter forests. The furs were covered for protection with butter-smeared tarps (the butter made the cloth waterproof). The furs would be traded in southern lands for luxury goods like gems and silk and wine.
It took two days of sailing west along the fjord to reach the Endless Ocean. The ship was beached at night, and Yngvild slept in a little tent near the tent of her bodyguards, far from the tents of the sailors. At the Endless Ocean — known to be infested by ice-bergs even in the summer — the ship sailed south for two days through heavier waves, approaching Sogn-fjord. As the trading-ship started to turn east into the fjord, those on board could see that three war-ships had recently left the fjord. The three war-ships were heading to the south-west — away from the Norse shore, into open sea.
The trading-ship Yngvild had hired took three days to sail east along Sogn-fjord to Sogndal. Yngvild stepped onto the dock of the capital of the conquered kingdom, heart beating harder at the thought that Halfdan would soon be in her arms. But she was disappointed. Halfdan was not in Sogndal. He had been in one of those three ships that had left the fjord just before Yngvild's ship had reached it.
Atli was in charge of the government until Halfdan returned.
Yngvild spoke to him inside the hall. "Where did he go?"
Atli said, "This is secret, so don't tell anybody. We were having problems with our fighters. Because we didn't let them loot the town, or any of the other towns in Sogn. And we executed a couple of men for rape. There was a lot of grumbling about that, and some in the army were talking about mutiny if they didn't get rewarded for their bravery at the frozen river and for all the hard work they did after."
"So?"
"So Halfdan decided to take the complainers on an outland
raid, for some action and a chance for loot."
"Where are they going?"
Atli said, "There is an old retired pirate around here who was working for King Njal when we took over. He had told Njal about some islands to the far west — where folk have lots of wealth, but also weak men and slow ships, apparently. No Norse folk have raided over there before, but it sounds very promising. The idea of this raid was one of the reasons why Njal and Gunvald killed Lambi, because Lambi wouldn't join."
"What are these islands called?
"Most of the folk who live in the islands are called Picts, and call their islands Pictland. But the pirate we talked with said that the Pict-ruled islands are part of a larger chain of islands, called England, that goes far to the south."
"So Halfdan is going to raid the Picts, then come back here?"
"No. After the raid, he will sail to Eid. Halfdan needs to show everybody that he still rules Fjordane's government, after being away for so much of the winter."
Yngvild wailed, "He is sailing back to Eid afterwards?"
"That's the plan."
"Freya's lop-sided tits!"
Yngvild arranged a ride on a trading-ship heading north. Because it made many stops at shore-towns on the way, the trip back to Eid took eleven days.
Siv heard familiar footsteps entering her home, then the sound of boots being kicked off. Siv put down her wool-weaving.
"Yngvild? Are you back already?"
Yngvild yelled, "That man will drive me crazy! What a waste of time! He's off on a pointless raid, just for fun! Fool!"
Chapter 23
WEST ACROSS THE WATER
Bright sunlight fell on Sogn-fjord. Dozens of noisy, grey-winged gulls circled in the warm west wind, high up over the choppy blue-green water. The air smelled of salt-water, spring-thawed soil and fish. It was the first good weather of the sailing season. The tide was flowing west.
Halfdan and seventy-four Fjordane-fighters gathered on the Sogndal docks. Nearby were three expensive-looking and modern war-ships. The ship-builders in Sogndal were more advanced than those in Eid; knowing new, better ways to carve and fasten the oak-pieces. The lines of the long-ships flowed smoothly from bow to water-line to stern. These were the best-looking ships Halfdan had seen — the finest of King Njal's fleet. Each was longer than twelve men lying end-to-end. When seen from the front, each war-ship was shaped like the edge of an giant ax. When seen from above, the war-ships had the shapes of fast fish. Viewed from the side, each war-ship was the shape of a quarter-moon or a smiling mouth.
Piles of cloth-wrapped sail-masts and bundles of oars and boxes full of supplies covered the oak-plank decks. The tips of the bow-posts were covered with leather bags. Each of the bow-posts was carved into the shape of a crow's head, to frighten evil sea-spirits, and it was very bad luck for these decorations to be shown at home. On the deck of one ship — it was the biggest one, with the name "Wave-Jumper" — were two wooden cages, each holding a raven. These big, black-feathered birds sat on perches, intelligently looking around. One of the ravens watched the grey-feathered gulls screeching above. The other one caught a hornet that was buzzing in its cage, crunching the unlucky bug in its beak.
Each ship carried fire-blackened iron pots for cooking dinners on shore. While on the sea, it was usually too wet, windy and dangerous to use fire.
The men standing on the docks wore layers of heavy wool under butter-smeared linen coats. Each of them had lugged along a big wooden sea-box — the only thing, other than weapons, that they were allowed to bring on board — holding clothes, blankets, pillows, snacks, jars of booze, combs, jewellery, face-paint, musical instruments, chess-boards and idols.
Twenty-five men stepped from the dock onto each war-ship. When the sail of a war-ship was down, twenty of the men would row, five pairs of rowers a side. A steersman (who ruled the ship) stood at the stern. A look-out stood by the bow. The three other non-rowers would bail water from the ship-bottom and replace any rower who needed a break.
The spear-shaped oars were each longer than three men lying end-to-end. The oars for the men at the raised front and rear of the ship were the longest, because the water-line was a farther reach. For the same reason, the rowers at the front and the rear of the war-ship were usually the tallest men.
Men sat on their sea-boxes to row. When Halfdan yelled, "Open the holes!" each rower removed a wood disk from an oar-hole. During rowing, these disks dangled under the oar-holes on short leather strings. There were slits on both sides of the oar-holes, so that the blades of the oars could fit through. The rowers now all shoved their oars out and let oar-blades splash down, then float on the rippled, sun-reflecting surface.
Wincing from a hangover, Halfdan roared, "Get ready! Three! Two! One! Pull!"
Sixty men heaved back.
"Pull!"
Sixty oars carved into the swirling water.
"Pull!"
Three war-ships jerked away from the docks. The small crowd of watching Sogn-folk cheered. (It was not clear whether they were cheering at the skill of the rowers or the fact that they were leaving town.)
The almost-flat bottomed ships floated high on the sunny fjord. Even with sails down, the gusty west-blowing wind helped them move.
When out of sight of Sogndal, the leather bags were taken off the bow-posts. The carved, painted crow-heads glared at the water ahead. No evil sea-spirits would now dare to attack these ships.
In the middle of each deck was a big block of oak, solidly fastened to the keel and side-ribs below. These blocks were called "old ladies," and each had a hole for a mast-post. Half of the men on each ship kept rowing, while the others worked together to erect a mast-post and slide it in an old lady. This was dangerous, as the ships were imbalanced while the masts were being raised, and a big wave hitting a ship's side then could topple it. The base of the mast was held tightly in the old lady by another heavy, carved block of oak called a "father-in-law".
Now the raising of the sails. Each woollen sail had been woven and stitched by women, and was by far the most expensive piece of equipment on each ship. Each sail had taken a group of Sogn-women months to make. As was then fashionable, the sails on these three war-ships had vertical stripes of red and white.
Oiled ropes made of walrus-skin were attached to the sails and snaked through holes in blocks of wood attached to the deck. Men grabbed the knotted ends of the rope to yank the sails up the mast posts. The wind stretched the sails, to cheers.
"No more rowing!"
The ships sliced forward with a faster speed. Oars were pulled back in and placed onto racks to dry.
Men sat on their painted sea-boxes, resting, some drinking water or beer.
Venn, scheming, watched Halfdan.
How to get revenge and escape?
The war-ships sped west along the blue-green tongue of sea-water, as Sogn-fjord led them between the snow-topped mountains to north and south. Square farms patterned the strips of shore-land. Sometimes they passed flocks of sheep or cows or goats, grazing on green patches of new-sprouted plants. (The beasts looked thin; last fall's harvest had been bad, and the underfed farm-beasts had barely survived the winter.) Sometimes the war-ships passed a small fishing-boat. The fishermen would put down their nets and hook-lines to watch the fleet sail by. A boat full of fishermen was watching when the famous war-chief of Fjordane and Sogn, sea-sick, leaned his curly head over the side of Wave-Jumper and threw his breakfast into the fjord.
When the three war-ships reached the mouth of Sogn-fjord, they steered south-west into the open sea. The look-out on Wave-Jumper pointed to the north and yelled, "A ship to the right!" After a quick glance, Halfdan did not pay attention to the approaching civilian ship; he could not have known that it was carrying Yngvild to him.
As they sailed south-west, the familiar mountains of Norway sank into the horizon behind them. Halfdan looked at the grey and brown masses, with snow shining white on high slopes, and felt an urge to tell the steersman to turn the ship arou
nd; that it was wrong to leave home for this adventure.
Soon the highest mountain sank away, and there was nothing but water on all sides. This was the first time that most of these men had sailed out of sight of land. Halfdan had never done it before. Some of the fighters mumbled nervous prayers to the gods and/or the sea-spirits; others fingered idols hanging from neck-strings.
On their third night on the open ocean, a strong storm hit from the north. Rain pelted down; wind wailed, changing directions at random. Rain-water and spray-water and leak-water started filling the ship-bottoms. Men had to constantly scoop up water and dump it overboard. Everybody was soaked and cold and miserable. The look-out on Wave-Jumper claimed to see a group of beautiful, shining women riding on winged horses through the thunder-clouds and bolts of lightning — "a flock of Valkyries must be following us!" Some believed him, some didn't.
Just before morning, the storm passed.
The steersmen guided the ships by the wind and sun and stars, as well as by sea-birds and sea-weed and clouds and fog and water-colour and fish-patterns.
They were still sailing south-west, as the old pirate had said. But the storm had blown them an unknown distance south.
"You're sure that this is the way to Pictland?" Halfdan asked.
The steersman of Wave-Jumper said frankly, "No, not at all. We could check for land with a raven?"
"Fine," Halfdan said.
Ravens were useful to navigation. They could fly very high and had excellent sight. They could see land from very far away, and (being land-birds) would always immediately fly towards it.
The steersman moved a raven-cage to the middle of the deck.
"AWK!" said the raven. Its smart, honey-yellow eyes glittered as it moved its black head side to side, studying at the men on the deck.
"Odin guide us," the steersman said, opening the door of the cage. The bird hopped out onto the deck. It stretched its wide dark wings. "AWK! AWK!" Then it hopped up and flapped its wings, rising high and higher into the cloudless sky, until it was a tiny dark dot. It flew straight west.