Vinland

I didn’t see her for the next couple of days. Leif drove us now. He wanted to be ready to sail as soon as summer was set fair. We rowed the knarr back down river and beached on the flood tide. We scrubbed and caulked and scoured the hull, lighting smudge fires in the bilges to kill off any insects that had taken root there. So it was the third evening after the incident at the lake that next I saw her. I had taken the after-boat back up to the lake with a couple of my fellows. The evening was clear and still and I thought I would try my luck fishing for some of the lake trout I could see rising. I picked up my pole from the steading and headed back to the shore. There was a low promontory on the far side of the lake that looked as though it would give me a good fishing place and I made my way round the water’s edge until I could reach it.

She stepped from the woods straight into my path and greeted me with a smile. I pointed out the spot where I was heading and she shrugged and fell in beside me, catching my free hand in one of her own and chattering away in skraeling so fast I thought she couldn’t possibly have drawn breath. We got to the spot I had selected and I grubbed up a few fat, brown worms for bait, charged my hook and flicked it into the lake. I had good sport for a while and landed a good hand of plump trout. All the while Meera – ha – nhee watched and sang her little song about birch trees. At last the trout moved off out of my reach and she sat beside me.

“Torfi swim?”

“Why not? Let’s swim.”

I stripped off my clothes and plunged into the lake. I turned to look for her but she wasn’t there. She sat on the bank and watched me, still in her shift. I called to her:

“Meera – ha – nhee swim?”

She shook her head but rose to her feet and stripped off her shift. She beckoned me from the water. I moved like a man in a dream towards to her. Blood pounded in my ears and my heart felt so big within my chest that I swear I was near to choking on it. She was utterly still, head erect. The sun gleamed in the raven’s wing hair and dusted her body with a rich, red glow. I could hardly breathe. I floundered from the shallows and came up beside her. I kissed her then and drew her tight against me. She shivered from the feel of my cold skin on hers. The tips of her teats grew hard against me and all I knew was the feeling of great joy that surged through me like a river in its springtime spate. She drew me down onto the grass. I raised myself on one elbow to stare at her.

I moved my fingers over her body. Here was hard muscle, there a yielding softness. Her eyes were closed and there was a soft humming sound in her throat. I could see a pulse beating there and leant down to kiss it. She gave a small sigh as my lips roamed over her face and neck and her arms came up to embrace me. The world slowed for me. Each moment was an hour. Her fingers traced the muscles of my arms and the feeling seemed to travel down my spine. I shuddered with the intensity of it. She pulled my head down to her teat and I kissed her there. I was so close to heaven I could hear the Valkyrie, or maybe it was the singing of my blood.

It was then she drew me into her. I could tell I was the first. She held me fast and rocked a little and hissed once. I started to frame a question but her lips silenced me and she clung to me, lifting me bodily with the strength of her hips and urging me onwards. My head was spinning but my body took over. We danced the oldest dance that men and women do. I was not master of myself and, truth to say, love’s madness had seized us both. We rolled and clung and kissed and cried out together. I felt the sweetness rising and knew I was near. All was heat and slick softness. I cried out as I spent within her, slamming into her again and again while she grasped me round the neck, her eyes wide now, but not seeing. I held fast to her and she crooned, a low, loving note.

We slept a little after, at least I did. The moon was rising when I woke and I felt the chill of the night air. I jumped up and dressed quickly while Meera – ha – nhee slipped into the lake and washed. I marked the smear of blood upon her thigh and felt much the man. She dressed as easily as before and kissed me thrice before departing. This time she moved slowly and I saw her go. I made my way back slowly to the steading. I was halfway back before I realised I had forgotten my fishing pole and the evening’s catch. When I retraced my steps, only the pole was there.

The following day was, perhaps, the strangest of all my life. We were all working on the knarr with only one man left as guard upon the steading. Towards mid-morning a crowd of skraelings emerged of the woods and onto the beach. They stopped some twenty paces from the knarr and one stepped forth. He was a tall man and powerfully built for their kind. He was no match for Leif or Snorri, though, and even I over-topped in height, for I had grown a hand’s width over the winter. This man had a proud look and was accoutred very strangely. He wore a bearskin about his shoulders with the bear’s maw over his head. he hailed us then in the skraeling tongue and, with a sinking feeling, I recognised the name of Meera – ha – nhee. I hurriedly explained to Leif all that had transpired between us. He gave me a look that melted my sinews. The skraeling chief, for such I took him to be, hailed again and pointed directly at me. I looked to Leif but he just shrugged.

I summoned all my courage and walked forward to meet the skraeling. He turned and called again, imperiously. Meera – ha – nhee crept forward, her face was a mask of fear and she would not look me in the eye. The chief seized her by the hand and then grasped one of mine and held them fast together. He glared at me and rolled his eyes horribly. Another skraeling approached and bound our hands together. The Chief then pronounced some sort of sing song chant and then was much wailing from the other skraelings. Then he threw a great bundle of peltries at my feet and looked at me expectantly. It was clear I was expected to return a gift. I had nothing with me but my long knife and sealskin roll of iron fishhooks. I solemnly laid these at his feet. There was a gleam in his eye as he saw the long knife and he swooped upon it, pulling from the scabbard and brandishing over his head and giving an ululating cry. Meera – ha – nhee spoke in a small voice.

“Skraeling happy, happy, happy. Torfi happy?”

“Thorfinn happy, happy, happy, “ I agreed and she relayed to this chief who beamed at me, showing blackened teeth.

The knarr’s crew were muttering behind me and I heard Leif’s voice raised in sardonic amusement.

“It appears, my friends, that young Thorfinn Fairhair has found himself a bride! Now that, boys, is what I call initiative. Not one among you ever saw a skraeling woman until this day yet Thorfinn, here, has not only seen one, he’s bedded and wedded her!”

The men gave a great shout and this was answered by that weird ululation from the skraelings. Meera – ha – nhee pointed at the chief and then at skraeling woman who had crept out to stand beside him. She made a mime of two adults and one child and pointed at the skraelings and then at her self. She struggled for a moment and then asked me for the words.

“Father,” I pointed at the chief.

“Fa –ther,” she repeated.

I pointed at the woman. “Mother,” I said. Meera – ha – nhee repeated my word again. She pointed at each of them in turn.

“Father Meera – ha – nhee, mother Meera – ha – nhee. Torfi father?”

I shook my head and pointed first at the sky and then the earth.

“Thorfinn’s father and mother gone, “ I told her.

She looked at me in surprise then pointed at Leif.

“Torfi father?”

I shook my head.

“Leif is our captain. He commands here. All of us.” I made an encircling gesture to take in the knarr and its crew and pointed at Leif. I bowed in his direction and she understood.

“Captain,” I said again, “Chief.”

I pointed at her father and said, “Skraeling captain?”

She nodded vigorously. “Captain,” she agreed. Then she smiled at me.

“Torfi people, skraeling people come. Go there!”

She pointed and I followed her gesture. A little way down the beach, more skraelings had appeared and were making a fire. I turned to Leif and called:

“Looks like we’re invited to a wedding breakfast.”

This raised another cheer and the men downed their tools and joined in the procession along the beach. Now we saw the skraelings for the first time in family groups. There were women and children as well as numerous men. The men alone outnumbered us by two to one. Here and there we saw some with the bog-iron knives but most had tools of stone or antler. Women ground corn in a great wooden quern and put meat to roast upon the fire. I could not but smile when I also saw a full hand of plump brown trout set to cook on sticks at the edge of the flames.

They gave us the juice of some fruit to drink and there was also fresh water. I must have been the first Norseman in the history of our kind to be married sober, for they had no knowledge of fermenting or brewing, and we had long since drunk our store of ale. Once the meal was over the skraelings packed away their tools and slipped away as silently as they had arrived until only Meera – ha – nhee was left, sitting beside me. Leif moved in our direction and I made to rise but he waved me back.

“Does she understand that we’ll be leaving soon, Thorfinn?”

I shrugged and turned to her.

“Meera – ha – nhee, Thorfinn people go one new moon.”

“Torfi go?”

“Aye, Thorfinn go.”

I hadn’t thought of it until that moment. I hadn’t thought of leaving her at all. I turned to Leif.

“Can’t she come with us?”

He gave me a sharp look and shook his head.

“Think, boy! One young girl on a ship of men who have been without women’s company for the best part of a year? That’s a deal of trouble, lad, and I’m not fool enough to take the risk. There’s more than one, I think, would act the ni-thing and break the vow of comradeship. You’d wind up over the side with your throat cut and she’d be passed around for a plaything. You have my leave to stay here, if you so wish, but I cannot, dare not, take the girl.”

He was right, of course. I’d already seen the speculative and covetous glances cast in our direction. But I couldn’t think straight, not right then. I had no one waiting my return, it was true, but then again, I was a Norseman and no skraeling. I didn’t know how they lived and from the little I could judge, it was a hard life. Maybe no harder than our rough sea-faring ways but strange, different, alien. My heart sank inside me as I knew I could not stay alone, even with Meera – ha – nhee.

She had been watching us all the while, her eyes flitting from my face to Leif’s and back again. I turned to her and gave a tight smile.

“Thorfinn people go, Meera – ha – nhee. Thorfinn go. Meera – ha – nhee stay. Skraeling people stay.”

She nodded. Her face collapsed with sorrow and something else. Anger? Perhaps, she could be hard to read when she chose. When she next looked back her face was blank.

“Meera – ha – nhee go skraeling people. Torfi go Torfi people.”

I nodded and she mirrored my gesture. She reached forward then and plucked Leif’s knife from his belt. Before we could stop her she cut through the thong that still loosely joined our wrists and flung the knife to sand with a sharp, wounded cry.

“Meera – ha – nhee go!”

And she did, vanishing swiftly from sight among the trees. That was the last I saw of her. I wish I could have explained but I had not the words. Even had she spoken Norse as good as Leif or me, I still don’t think I could have told her fully all that was in my heart. I felt sick, like a man who’s been kicked in the guts. Leif laid a hand on my shoulder and patted me absently. I looked at him with brimming eyes but he could find no comfort for me. We both knew he was right. At length he said heavily:

“Well, Thorfinn Fairhair, there’s not many men who can say they were married and divorced in a single afternoon. You have chosen aright, for what it’s worth, and one thing I will tell you: you’ll remember this day as long as you live.”

He was right. It remains as sharp and clear in the memory as yesterday.

Eleven days later we sailed on the high tide. We crawled seawards under oars until we weathered the cape and the island and had good enough wind to hoist the sail. It was a grey, sullen day with a heavy overcast and it wondrously matched my mood. I stood alone at the prow to watch for skerries and felt curious eyes upon me. None, so far, had asked me about the girl or how the sudden wedding had come to pass. Even I could only guess but I believe Meera – ha – nhee had told her mother or father all that happened by the lake and they came to us to see her not dishonoured. I hope, by our marriage, she avoided that fate. Her father had seemed well satisfied with the bride-price. A long knife and a handful of fishhooks seems little enough, I warrant you. I felt I got the best of the bargain. I had a bundle of rich furs that would fetch the price of six long knives plus I had my share of the cargo of timber and peltries. I wouldn’t be rich but it was a very fair start for a young fisher-boy with nothing to his name.

The voyage back was easy but the time weighed heavy with me. We saw nothing of interest, just endless days of sea and sky and the wind blew contrary-wise for much of the trip so we had to tack and beat back and forth against the breeze to make our easting. One final incident of note came when we were not more than half a day from Heriulfsness. I happened to look to starboard and saw a ship, or at least part of one, fast upon a great skerry. I called to Leif, who had just taken the styri.

“Wreck, ho! I think there are still men aboard her.”

We altered course towards the skerry and soon enough we could make out that it was indeed a knarr like our own run hard upon the rocks. Her bedraggled crew had seen us now and we heard a faint cheer as we bore down on them. I knew this place well for I had fished it many times and called to Leif to tack and come up on the other side where the water was deep. This we did and hove to, barely an oar’s length from the wreck. Leif called out for their captain and he answered. By a strange chance, his name was Thori and he was a cousin to Leif’s father. We took fifteen souls from that wreck and thereafter Leif was known ever as Leif the Lucky, for he came home with more crew than had sailed with him and only one man lost in the whole year.

In the years that followed, more sailed to Vinland the Good. It saddened me to learn that they had fought with the skraelings, who never dealt with us other than fairly. If there came bad blood between us, I have no doubt that it was the Norsemen who erred the most. Many asked me to sail back with them, not least Leif’s own brother, Thorvald, but neither Leif nor I returned to Vinland more. The following year I went trading to Norway and there I met and married my Ingveld. We returned to Greenland together and I bought a steading not far from the sea at Eriksfirth. I never went a-viking but remained a trader and fisherman all my days to this. Now I own three knarrs and each is skippered by one of my sons. Together we have roamed far and wide, beyond the lands of the Franks to Africa and through the Baltic Sea to Muscovy and Russia.

Still, with everything I have seen and done these many years, there is nothing that quite compares with my first voyage, my first woman and my first love.

The End