Fargoer

by Hannila, Petteri

  Hear me good, my offer take

  Down now pull him to you

  Eat him with your hungry mouths

  All blood, gut, all sinew

  Give me luck and grant me hope

  Give me back what life did steal

  Though I come from world above you

  All my wounds and ailments heal

  The woman kicked her black-haired prisoner in the back, and he fell head first into the grey mire. The ice on the surface broke with a crack, and the victim sank like the rocks that had been attached to him. There was no sound heard greater than a splash, and only a slowly drifting trail of bubbles left on the surface to be seen. These subsided quickly, leaving only the broken ice on the surface as witness to the deed.

  The woman and the man walked away from the swamp silently. Perhaps the mist that the swamp raised was a bit thicker than before. Perhaps the peat mosses’ squelch was livelier, or the waters in the quagmire glimmered brighter than before. The woman pulled the hood back over her head after combing her black hair back with her fingers. Only one wisp of hair, white like the flowers of wild rosemary, stayed, curled on her forehead, as if against her will.

  The survivor

  One step, then another. At first, when Vierra had become sick, she had counted the days until the fever would let go. After it had gotten worse, she had counted the hours of the day and counted each stick of firewood as she collected it with her fading strength, to make sure there would be sufficient for the coming night. Now, as she walked, she could only count steps, one at a time.

  Those agonizing steps carried her through the forest that was freeing itself from the winter. The melting snow had revealed a brown-grey ground, which was waiting for warmth and light to green up for its spring blossoming. Shadowy spots were covered here and there with odd-shaped patches of snow, which were fighting a losing battle against the approaching summer. And even though the summer in the north was short, it would inevitably come, just like every year before this one.

  Vierra followed a trail that hunters had trampled down. Every sound of the surrounding forest was familiar to her, its lights and shadows like invitations to a traveler who had been away from home for a long time. If she had been in full strength, the feeling of her homeland would have surely made her mistreated heart feel like bursting. Now, however, her eyes were fixed on the path before her. A pounding thought in her feverish head told to take one step after another, toward the lands of her tribe.

  Vierra was a master at surviving in the wild, even by the standards of her own people, hardened hunter gatherers though they are. Still, being alone in the wilderness was going to kill her eventually. During the wet snows of the time between winter and spring, the wisp’s disease had gotten in her. Only when she had realized that she couldn’t survive without the help of other people had she set off to look for the people of her tribe. The northern forests and swamps were vast though, and her tribe constantly on the move now that the snows were melting. Vierra earnestly hoped that her tribe members hadn’t yet left for the coast, for the spring trading. With her diminishing strength, she wouldn’t make it there.

  Vierra snapped awake from her slumber. She had fallen down on all fours, and felt the cold surface of snow against her burning cheek. It had happened many times before, and she had always gotten up to continue her journey. Now the cool snow felt tempting: maybe she would sleep for just a moment, gather strength and then continue on her way. With a creak Vierra clenched her teeth, trying to subdue this whispering voice inside her.

  The voice of her inner struggle was quenched, not by her tenacity but by another’s voice that reached her ears from the forest trail as she lay down. Her sharp ears made no mistake, even with the fever: she was sure there were hunters of her tribe coming along the trail, maybe to check their traps. All strength went from Vierra’s limbs. She had wanted this meeting for so many days, counted steps and made her pain-filled mind believe that she would make it back to her people. Now that her objective was about to be met, her tormented body couldn’t give her any more.

  Vierra stood at the swamp. The breeze of early spring blew to her back, and she shivered from the cold. Somewhere, a curlew let out its melancholic call. There were no smells of the swamp in the air; the ground was hard against her feet, as if frozen. In the reddened light of the sun that was setting on the horizon, Vierra saw a large quagmire. Its surface was black and immobile. It emanated coldness and she instinctively took a step backwards.

  Only then did she notice the black-haired woman that stood beside her. She looked to the distance, and Vierra couldn’t distinguish her face even when she tried to look as sharply as possible. The woman slowly stepped into the mire, and the black water slowly engulfed her. Cold wind blew her black hair, amid which Vierra could see a few white wisps.

  Vierra, shivering from the cold, was filled with horror. She wanted to help this woman, to pull her away from the cold and the death she faced, but her legs felt rooted to the spot and Vierra could do nothing but watch. The faceless woman sank into the water, first up to her hips, then all the way up to her neck. The woman turned to her, and Vierra still couldn’t see her face. She knew one thing though, sensing it rather than seeing; the faceless woman was smiling.

  Vierra came back to her senses in complete darkness. With strength borne of the nightmare she tried to get up, but weakness forced her to close her eyes and take a deep breath. Vierra’s head was spinning and she felt a hollow, metallic nausea in her stomach. But she felt warm. Thick bed skins had been tightly wrapped around her, and the air smelled of smoke from a fire.

  A wedge of light punctured Vierra’s darkened world as someone opened the entrance skin of the hut. In the dark she could distinguish red hair and the profile of round cheeks. She would have recognized her old friend Rika even after a lifetime of slavery. When Rika realized Vierra was trying to get up, she hurried to push her back down. The women hugged each other for a long time. Finally Rika huffed loudly and pulled back.

  “Don’t try to get up, just rest.” Rika accidentally touched one of Vierra’s scars, which ran from her chest to her shoulder, and pulled her hand back.

  Vierra smiled coldly. “They don’t hurt anymore, they healed a long time ago.”

  “Can you eat? I have some trout broth. Eera says that we can’t give you any stronger food yet.”

  No force in the world could have made Vierra decline the food. Even the thought of eating caused a painful feeling of emptiness on the bottom of her stomach.

  “I can eat.”

  Rika set a wooden cup to her lips, and Vierra grabbed it with both hands, gulping the broth inside her in huge amounts.

  “Easy, easy. Otherwise you’ll throw everything up, and we haven’t gotten anywhere. There, now you have to sleep. I shall thank the spirits with Eera that we got you back, we all thought you were dead.”

  “I’ve slept enough. And don’t bother the spirits on my account. Help me up, I want to breathe the air outside.”

  Confused, Rika wrinkled her brow. She did as her friend asked though, and soon they stepped out of the hut. The spring sun blinded Vierra’s eyes mercilessly, and for a long time she stood outside the hut to get her eyes accustomed to the light. The patches of snow had lost their battle against the summer. It was the moment in spring that felt like everything stood still. The deciduous trees waited, the buds on their branches ready to sprout. The whole nature was full of coiled strength, which waited for the sun’s warmth in order to be unleashed.

  The whole tribe, along with the elderly and the children, gathered around Vierra. She remembered leaving a larger tribe than what she had returned back to. The ones that remained looked ragged. If Vierra’s life had been hard, her relatives hadn’t had it easy either. Vierra’s sudden appearance had been like rejuvenating water to the people who had wilted under their burden. Questions were flying in the air like raindrops in a thunderstorm, and because of their torrent she couldn’t answer any of them.

  “Let he
r be,” yelled Eera, who arrived swaying. Her hair had gotten even whiter and she had to rely on a cane to stay on her feet. The eyes, flaring deep in their sockets, hadn’t weakened though. “Vierra shall tell her story, when she feels able to do that. Until then, leave her alone.”

  “I can do it, but give me something to eat. The trout broth won’t soothe my hunger.

  “You can’t eat yet,” Rika interrupted. “Your stomach can’t handle stronger food yet.”

  Eera looked at Vierra assessing her from under her brow.

  “Let her eat. Give her food.”

  With eagerness that burned with curiosity, the tribe prepared a feast for Vierra. There was fried trout, venison jerky and the first wild-plants of the year, making a meal tasty enough to tempt anyone. And Vierra ate like one who is starving does. Twenty pairs of eyes watched her every move, longing for the meal to end and the story to begin.

  So, after eating, Vierra started to speak. She told of the baleful day of the fire festival, of her fight with the invaders, of slavery and all the strange things she had experienced. She told of her journey through the forests and the moose hunt that ended into the death of many men. She told of the harsh winter too, and what had almost happened to her with the disease.

  “The spirits have been in your favor, for after all of these ordeals you are still alive,” Eera blurted out after the long story.

  “I feel like it’s the spirits themselves that always get me into trouble, hardship and sorrow, and with my own strength I have to overcome them. Did the spirits help me when my son and husband were slain? Did they brush honey on these lash marks when I was a slave to the intruders? Did they help me in my battle against Songman? Yes, the spirits have cursed me more, but from now on I will curse them back.” Vierra’s green eyes burned, and she sang.

  Seita-stone you dog’s bone

  Spirits big and small

  I won’t fear your wretched warnings

  I won’t hear your call

  Try to meddle, try to settle

  Do your worst to me

  I cut your trees, ignore your fees

  You can’t my fate foresee

  Other tribe members listened to the mocking song, horrified, and many made a gesture protect them from evil.

  “Stop this defiance at once! I understand that you have suffered a lot, and you want to find someone to blame for it, but this is not the right way. It is even worse that you chose to do so now.” Eera spread her arms around and toward the members of the tribe that sat beside her. “Is our tribe strong? The wisp’s disease and the southerners have taken half of us”.

  Vierra’s expression didn’t change.

  “Because you and Rika have healed me, I will obey your word. But my mind will not be easily changed.”

  “Many of those, that you don’t see sitting here by the fire, have been taken away by the wisp’s disease. The very same that burned inside you. Still, when I asked the spirits of the plants to heal you, they bestowed it. Even though they’ve been silent when so many others have fallen ill and died. You should thank, not reproach.”

  Vierra sat silently and thought about the words Eera had put on her. The tribe members were suddenly in a hurry to get back to their chores, wherever they might be. So it was they were reminded that this woman was the Fargoer, and the years hadn’t changed that. Rika looked sad, and Vierra looked at her old friend and softened her expression slightly, saying:

  “Very well, I apologize for my words. My life hasn’t been easy. Every day since my son went to the underworld has been dark. Only defiance has kept me alive. Here in my homeland though, the sun warms me from the inside. Tell me everything that has happened while I was away.”

  And Rika told her. She told of the lean years, how she had found a man from the winter camp, had a son. They both had died of disease last fall. The whole tribe had been afflicted by a serious wisp fever, and not only them but other members of the Kainu too. Rika, who usually was happy, had a grim expression on her face.

  “And the disease didn’t avoid the chieftain either. All of Aure’s daughters fell ill and died, one after another. And then her husbands, two out of three were lost. Only the oldest and strongest, Kaira, was left alive.”

  Vierra listened thoughtfully.

  “Did my cousin go to the underworld too?”

  “No, the spirits saved her. Even so ... I wouldn’t say it to her out loud.” Rika lowered her voice. Vierra remembered never seeing her friend scared like that. “She buried her family in the swamp herself. She buried them like old witches were buried once, without burning. Eera tried to stop her, but Aure was distraught with sorrow. I’ve never seen her like that. And after that ...”

  “Where is she now?” Vierra interrupted and looked around, looking for Aure.

  “As if it was not enough that the disease has thinned our numbers and the spirits have been silent, the southern hay-biting fur traders have started to steal furs during the last few years, and last spring they came with large groups of men and attacked our unsuspecting sisters. Many Kainu died, and they took women with them to the south, as prisoners. And they didn’t burn the bodies of those they killed, but left them to rot, desecrated.

  “But where is Aure?” Vierra asked with a hint of impatience in her voice.

  Rika smiled pallidly. “Be patient and I’ll tell you. Aure summoned a great gathering, all the Kainu. She’s planning a war expedition against the southerners. They are probably on their way here right now, now that the smiling sun has driven away the ice. Eera tried to talk to her, suggesting that perhaps we should wait another spring and build up our defenses. But Aure had made her decision.

  “I too have seen what the southerners can do. Maybe I would have done the same, had I been in Aure’s position.”

  Rika had no time to answer, because the tribe members that had escaped Vierra’s outburst silently returned to the village square. The reason for their return soon became apparent when the grim-faced chieftain of the tribe emerged from the forest.

  Campfire council

  The spring evening was rapidly darkening into a pitch-black night. The fires lit by the Kainu reflected a play of flickering lights and shadows onto the faces of those who were sitting in a ring around the flames. Aure stood in the center of the ring, close to the fire. The red of the flame played with her hard features as she explained what had happened at the gathering. The hood she had pulled over her head highlighted the furrows of her face.

  “The great women of the Kainu were in discord, as you guessed,” Aure said while pointing to Rika. “And by following your advice, I persuaded them to stand with me.”

  Aure took a small break.

  “The speaker for our southern tribes is a man.”

  “I told you it would be so.” Rika said with a smile in her eyes, a smile which didn’t reach her face though.

  Eera wasn’t a part of the council. It was rumored that she would leave for her final journey this summer, and leave her place for Rika.

  “You’ll become a witch one of these days, as long as the war party proves to be successful,” Aure replied. “I will take two hunters with me. We will unite with the others and make the dishonorable southerners fear our forests.”

  Aure let her eyes move around the people of her tribe, people whose numbers had been depleted by disease and hunger. There weren’t many young, eager faces.

  “Kaira,” Aure said, and an immensely strong man stepped toward his wife in the center of the ring. “Who else wants to come?”

  “I want to break southerners’ skulls,” a tall young man blurted while squeezing his hands into fists.

  “Any other volunteers beside Kaarto?” Aure asked. “Even though you’re eager, you’re too young and inexperienced for a hunting trip like this. And we may not return from this journey. We have so few of you young ones.” The expression on the face of the grim chieftain was darker than ever.

  The silence was only broken by the crackling of firewood in the campfire. The trib
e members, who had suffered so much, just wanted to move to the places of fire festival and rising salmon of the summer. The war party was like a torn moose skin to their normal circle of life.

  “I can go with you.” The one who carried this deep and sonorous voice stepped confidently beside Aure and Kaira, even though Aure hadn’t chosen her yet.

  Rika’s eyes widened with surprise. Her wits were quickly with her, though.

  “Vierra, you cannot go into war, you are sick.”

  Aure put her hand to her cousin’s shoulder. The gesture was warm, but Vierra felt nothing behind it. She remembered Aure as she had always been: sparkly like a campfire made of spruce. Now the chieftain exuded coldness and indifference. That person that stood beside her was unknown to Vierra. The old Aure would have surely made her opinion known by all.

  “If there are no other volunteers, get the gathering rocks. Let the will of the tribe decide, who goes.”

  It was made so, and more wood was added to the central fire. Lighted by the refreshed flames, the members of the tribe voted who would go to war. Most didn’t hesitate, and dropped their rocks straight to the jar. Rika’s expression was grim, when Aure poured the contents of the gathering jar to a lighted up spot near the fire.

  Only one rock seconded Kaarto. Judging by the other votes, Vierra would be the one to go. The tribe spoke as if with one voice, and Rika’s grief poured over.

  “Why did you volunteer?” she yelled to Vierra, with a rare anger in her voice. “I thought that you were my friend, but it seems I was wrong.” The red-haired woman turned around and disappeared to the dark with a determined, strong step.

  “We leave at daybreak,” Aure stated. Nothing about her gave away what she thought about the incident, but the color of her rock as well as those of the tribe was clear.

  Vierra shaded her eyes from the rising sun. It was engulfed by a light curtain of clouds that colored the light blood red. Squinting her eyes, Vierra looked toward a high hill atop of which a funeral was taking place.