The United States of Vinland Box Set Page 2

  The survivors reunited; Gudrid returned to Eskil, Torrador and Erik, the brothers Steinarr and young Samr, and Ballr and his wife, Halla. As the afternoon waned, they also collected much of the salvage and began sorting it into piles on the pasture. At one end of their work lay Drifa, her body waiting for their tending.

  Eskil looked at his wife, her face now pale, as she cradled the small and familiar wooden box in her arms. “Come, my Gudda, you have done well, but you are exhausting yourself.”

  “I shall be alright.”

  “No, come and let me sit you back in the sun, against the runestone.”

  “There is so much to be done.”

  “You can direct us from the runestone, and you can even grumble at me if you like when I do it all wrong, but I will not have you risking your health and that of our unborn.” He led her back up the gravel beach and onto the green pasture before reaching the runestone.

  “What of Drifa? She must be put to rest.”

  “We will tend to her, but first we must get the salvage before the tide takes it away.”

  She nodded, accepting his wisdom.

  He added, “We also need to get a shelter up while we have light.”

  “Yes; the needs of the living first.”

  Helping her down, he knelt beside her. “We will set Drifa to rest when our work is done, after sunset if we must.”

  She nodded. “Where will we build?”

  “Here.”

  “It is too exposed.”

  “Yes, but it will do for now. Tomorrow we will look for a better site.”

  She gave a weak nod and leaned back against the runestone. “If you build it here, use the stone: It called us here.”

  He nodded. “I was going to. Now rest.”

  “Eskil?” Her eyes were growing heavy, the lids drooping as she tried to make one last command.

  “Yes, my wife?”

  She weakly offered the wooden box up to him. “I found these; put them in pride of place, as they are what kept us safe.”

  He took the offered box, handling it with care, as it had been handed-down to her by her mother. He unlatched the lid and looked inside, checking that the wood-carved statuettes of the gods remained intact. “I will, my wife, for the gods brought us here after testing us.”

  “Yes, to here; to a gods’ land.”

  “Yes, to Godsland.”

  She nodded and then let her eyes close as she sought sleep.

  Gudrid slept, weary first from her own near drowning, and then from her efforts to revive friends and crew. In a slumber bathed in the glow of the afternoon’s summer sun, she dreamt of her babe due to be born in autumn, feeling the innocent’s eagerness to come into this new world. She found comfort in those dreams, watching her child grow in both wisdom and strength. In them, she witnessed a son’s coming of age, of his own fatherhood, and of him finally leading the people of Markland into a grand, god-gifted age.

  Here, by the runestone, they would birth a mighty future!

  Chapter 2

  -

  Markland

  While Gudrid slept, the men fashioned a simple tent from salvaged rigging, timber and sailcloth. The shelter, pitched at the runestone, was basic, but it would do.

  When Gudrid awoke, it was to find her new world falling into twilight, the distant view one of silhouettes and gloom. A good fire burned half-a-dozen paces away, at the edge of the tumbled rocks, much of its light and warmth reaching her while also illuminating the rising hillside behind. The flames’ flickering light also reached the pasture that separated them from the gravel beach. Scattered across the space were piles of salvage – mostly bits of timber, some cloth, rope and other items – all of it helpful, if but basic. A few baskets and three small chests were stacked aside of this. Gudrid felt great relief to see them, for in them should be a mix of blades, tools and seed stock.

  Eskil stepped out of the shadows, his stride purposeful as he came to kneel beside her. “How are you?”

  She smiled. “Well.”

  He took her hands and cupped them in his own. “We have finished the shelter and Halla is preparing some fish.”

  “Are we safe?”

  “Not from the weather, no; not as safe as I would like us to be. A wind is blowing up and more clouds are appearing, but at sunset, it did not look too bad. We should be alright for one night.”

  She asked, “And what of the skraelings?” All of them knew of the tales to come out of Greenland; they had heard of them in Iceland before sailing, of new lands and new peoples.

  “We have seen no one. I have sent Steinarr and Samr to walk the beaches and climb the nearest hills. They will be back soon to tell us what they have seen.” He looked out into the dusk. “Or they should be; I need to check on them.”

  “And what of the others we dragged from the sea?”

  “They are alright, but busy with tasks.”

  As he spoke, Halla appeared out of the darkness and walked with a basket in hand. She turned to Gudrid, smiling to see her awake. “I am here if you need anything.”

  Gudrid gave a grateful nod and then turned back to Eskil as he continued, “We have also found a few tools and gear amongst the timber salvage, as well as some clothes, cloth and rope. The real problem is that we are mostly unarmed, without any means of going back to sea. I think we will be staying here.”

  “That might not be so bad.”

  He nodded, but his jaw firmed; he was holding something back.

  “What is wrong?”

  He grimaced before answering, “We found one of the men, dead.”

  “Who?”

  “Manni.”

  She nodded.

  “He was missing a leg, gone just over the knee. A bite was taken out of him.”

  “A serpent?”

  “I suppose; the lesson is we should be wary of the water.”

  She nodded again. “And what of the others?”

  “No sign, not yet. Nor any of Leif’s ship.”

  She pursed her lips. “Perhaps they have also survived?”

  “It is possible, but more likely the sea has taken them.”

  “We need him and his people.”

  Eskil nodded. “He is a good man, the kind you want by your side.” He shivered, thinking back to how close he had also come to death. “Yes.” He considered his next words before continuing, “We were all lucky. We should be dead.”

  “Yet here we are, at the foot of a runestone?”

  “It seems the gods wanted us spared.”

  She nodded.

  “Come, let us get you into the tent. The air is getting cold.” He helped her up and then led her around the runestone and into the shelter, the structure aglow by a small fire within.

  Halla was inside tending the fire, a basket by her side.

  Eskil said, “I need to check on the others. I will be back soon.” He turned and walked out into the deepening night.

  Gudrid overheard Torrador ask Eskil after her health.

  Her husband answered him, before asking, “What of Steinarr and Samr?”

  “The brothers have gone onto the stream to get some water. The others should also be back soon.”

  As Gudrid listened, she realised she had missed out on yet more discoveries. The thought faded though, quickly lost to the smell of cooking fish.

  Halla said, “Gudrid, just get comfortable, the fish will be ready soon enough.”

  “Who caught the fish?”

  “Me, would you believe? I caught them myself!”

  “Really?” Gudrid laughed as she stepped towards the Icelander, ready to help, and to also share the fire’s heat.

  “I saw some of our baskets floating in the surf, swamped by the waves. When I went to fetch them, I discovered two fish trapped inside one of them.”

  Gudrid laughed as she looked down at the fire, the low flames held within a skirting circle of rocks. Two gutted fish lay to the side, spread across a flat stone, surrounded by glowing coals. “You are a fine fisherwoman!”

  “A good piece of luck.”

  “Or a gift?”

  Halla gave a nod before turning back to check on the fish. “We have received more than one gift. Every one of us is alive because the gods want us to be.”

  Gudrid nodded.

  “How are you feeling?”

  “Tired, but better, and hungry, after smelling your fish.”

  Halla sighed. “If only there was more to eat!”

  “Do not fret.”

  “And what of this place; Markland, your Eskil calls it? It is not far removed from Vinland, and it is also bound to harbour skraelings.”

  “We will simply have to see. We are camping by a runestone, a marker carved by our own kind. This place is already given; not to the skraelings, but to our own people.”

  Halla smiled. “Do you think they are here?”

  “Our own kind?”

  “Yes.”

  “They have at least passed through, and most likely would not have carved a runestone if they were just exploring. Maybe farms are farther up the fjord, or maybe they come here in the summer, perhaps for furs or iron, or maybe even timber. Greenland is supposedly not rich in any of those things.”

  “Yes, that is why they were supposedly excited about Vinland.”

  Gudrid went on, “Let us hope the others are back soon so we can eat. It will be good to bed down for what at least will be a dry night, better than what the storm gave us.”

  Halla looked out into the night, through a gap in the sail. A weak breeze stirred, its song backed by the regular crash of surf. “Yes, a dry night and, thanks be to Freya, one during which we will be warm and sheltered. But we will need to head farther up the fjord tomorrow and seek a better place.”

  “Have Drifa and Manni be
en tended to?”

  “No, we ran out of light. We laid them out just beyond the salvage. I think the men mean to deal with them soon.”

  Gudrid turned her back to the fire to feel its warmth. “And where are the others?”

  “They are checking over what has washed up. With the light nearly gone, they all shall be back soon enough.”

  Gudrid hoped so.

  The weak wind died at last, bringing an almost complete silence to the night. The fire crackled occasionally, but the crash of the surf, as the low waves came to skirmish with the rocks and gravel of the shoreline, was the only other sound.

  The world seemed to slip into a sleepier calm, but the silent women were suddenly roused by a slapping thud from somewhere in the gloom.

  They tensed and turned to the dark beyond the tent’s opening.

  “What was that?” Halla asked.

  Gudrid stepped across to look outside, trying to make out what might cause such a sound. She wondered; perhaps a boulder coming to rest after it rolled down the hill that climbed up over the beach? Or perhaps the landing of a beast after bounding down from the same hillside?

  With a soft voice, Halla asked, “Can you see anything down along the beach?”

  “No.”

  Halla stepped across to join her.

  Both women stared out into the night.

  The light was weak as dusk faded away. They could discern little, with any certainty, particularly on an unfamiliar shoreline littered with rocks, piles of salvage, and other shadowed shapes, either real or imagined.

  From the rhythm of crashing waves came a sudden splash at the water’s edge, about sixty paces away, a sound so stark that Halla gave out a gasp. “Something is there!”

  Gudrid silenced her with a hand. “Hush, Halla. Do we have any weapons?”

  “Only the fire and a small knife...I have the blade here.” She was clutching it tightly in her white-knuckled fist, the blade still slick from gutting the fish.

  “Give it to me.”

  Halla passed it across, releasing the blade from her shaking grip.

  Staring into the night, Gudrid asked, “Can you lift any brands from the fire?”

  “There is one long enough.”

  “Get it.”

  Another series of splashes sounded, these quieter, but coming steadily closer, as whatever lurked came towards the camp from along the beach.

  “There,” Gudrid hissed, pointing down to where an indistinct but large silhouette moved from the edge of the surf to the pasture, and slunk closer.

  “What is it?”

  “I do not know, but it must be a hunter, as it is not shy about closing in.”

  “What is it doing?”

  “Watching, I think.”

  “Why?”

  “Perhaps the smell of the fish attracted it?”

  Next came the sounds of timber and rock being pushed aside.

  Gudrid stepped out into the night, leaving the tent behind.

  Halla followed, raising the flaming torch.

  “It has found what it seeks. What is down there besides the salvage we dragged from the sea?”

  Halla cursed, “Gods, it will have found Manni and Drifa!”

  “No!” Gudrid hissed.

  A low and guttural rumble sounded as the beast began tearing at the bodies.

  Gudrid continued forward, with the knife held out in front of her. “Is it a wolf or could it be a bear?”

  Halla also took another step, but grabbed at Gudrid, “No, you cannot go any farther!”

  “We have to stop it.”

  Then came more sounds of wet and hungry feeding.

  Halla’s eyes dropped down for a moment, to the swell of Gudrid’s belly, before she said, “You stay here; I will go and send it on its way,” but a tremor in her voice betrayed her.

  “We will both go, together.”

  Halla hesitated, but finally gave a nod.

  After a deep breath, they stepped forward.

  Slowly, one step after another, they closed on where the beast loomed. While they advanced, the dark silhouette continued to feed, choosing to ignore them.

  They closed to within ten paces of it.

  The creature finally stopped its meal to lift its head and stare. A rumbling growl rose from deep within its chest. It was a wolf, a powerfully large and ragged beast.

  It was hard to see anything in the gloom, apart from its size and the glint of its eyes as they reflected the flame of Halla’s brand.

  She moved the torch, lowering it to hold it in front of them. Beside her, Gudrid gripped the knife, both feeling braver for having weapons in their hands.

  One thing was certain; the beast had come for meat. The creature tensed, lowering its head as it continued to rumble in anger at the two women for disturbing its bloody feast.

  Gudrid cursed, realising that having come so close, they now could not back up. At the very least, they should have brought another burning brand – not merely for light, but also to bolster their meagre armoury.

  The wolf blinked, the reflected light of its eyes winking out, then reappearing half a pace away. It happened so quickly, showing Gudrid and Halla that this thing, despite its size, could move with speed.

  Side by side, they stood both tense and still.

  Halla whispered, “We need the others; we never should have left the tent.”

  Gudrid nodded, but neither could take her gaze from the gleaming eyes in front of them.

  The reek of one of the bodies reached them, its belly torn open to release the rankness of its guts. Manni, his corpse already missing a limb, had been astink with the richness of blood, drawing the wild beast.

  Gudrid looked for any advantage, but only noticed that far out to the east, the horizon sported a rising glow that hinted at the rising moon.

  The giant wolf brought its head down and tensed its haunches.

  Both Halla and Gudrid sensed the dark beast was about to strike.

  A patter then came to them, one with rhythm, as if something rushed along the hilltop to their side. But a rising wind quickly drowned out the new sound.

  The breeze whistled as it flew over rocks, danced through pasture, and even worked to take off the tops of waves. A moment later, flaring lightning lit the land, finally revealing their adversary.

  Large, but rangy, with a dishevelled, dark coat, the wolf looked half-starved. Most of all, the beast looked desperate.

  The dazzling cloud display faded, replaced by the deep crack and rumble of thunder.

  Halla started.

  Gudrid said, “Be steady; that is Thor’s hammer. The gods are with us.”

  “What should we do?”

  “We must back away. We have to move slowly and not turn our backs. If we can get to the fire, we can get some more torches that might keep it from coming at us.”

  Halla nodded. “Let us try.”

  The wolf suddenly turned its head to the side and sniffed the air. A voice came to them at the same time, rising above the wind from the hillside to their right.

  “Gudda, Halla, stay still and do not move. Keep your weapons in front of you!” It was Eskil.

  Gudrid’s heart fluttered at the sound.

  Halla sighed with relief.

  From behind them, to their left, perhaps only twenty paces away, another voice called out, “You are not alone; we are here.” It was Ballr.

  His voice was followed by others from the hillside – the brothers Steinarr and Samr.

  “What should we do?” Gudrid called out.

  Eskil answered, “Nothing sudden, let us force it to turn.”

  Steinarr said, “I have no axe or blade, as the sea has taken them, but I have plenty of stones.” And, with that, a rock the size of a fist landed between the women and the beast, causing all three to start.

  The animal took a step back, its voice rumbling again.

  Another stone landed in front of it, followed by one that hit it in the side, and finally one that smacked it squarely on its head.

  The great wolf whined as it fell back, skipping to the side. The beast moved away from the bodies to go behind some brush, trying to shelter its too-large form. With a throaty growl, it raised its head and looked for a moment as if it would stand its ground, but another hail of stones came at it, one again hitting it on the head.

  The beast yelped, and then turned and ran.