Avalon (41 page)

"What can have been happening? "she said to Astrid, who shook her head and concentrated on trying to chew the succulent roast pork with her remaining teeth. But Thiodild heard. She got up, and leaning across two other women, said "Leif has become a Christian. King Olaf wants us all to be Christians, as is happening in Iceland now, Leif says. I do not mind, the old gods are dying, weak, but my husband is much displeased. I believe that you, Merevyn Ketilsdottir, are a Christian?"

Merewyn flushed. Her heart gave a thump. "I was," she answered with difficulty. "Of course I was. I am . . . but Sigurd and Ketil they jeered, and for years I haven't thought..."

"So —" said Thiodild, fixing her sharp eyes on Merewyn. She raised her voice because she wished all the women to hear. "So now we will think. We will be baptized. I shall build a church which is where I beheve Christians confess their sins; and regularly have something called a Mass; and do not pour

blood around. Their God does not want it. He is too powerful for that. I heard this from an Irish monk long ago in Iceland, and thought then it was a good religion. You have a goddess too, don't you?" Thiodild looked at Merewyn.

"No," said Merewyn, on a gasp. "At least there is a woman one can pray to — the Blessed Virgin Mary, the Mother of Christ."

"Ah —" said Thiodild. "None of my prayers to Freya or Frigg have been answered. I feel that this goddess you speak of will do better."

"You must have instruction from the priest," said Merewyn, who could find nothing else to say, and it was then she discovered that Freydis had somehow moved next to Thora, and was fondling the girl's breasts, while Thora's eyelids dropped in what seemed to be dreamy satisfaction.

Merewyn gripped Astrid. "Look!" She got up from the bench, and going to Thora, said. "I'm off to the privy, dear, and am sure you need to. Come onr

Freydis gave Merewyn a baleful glance, then shrugged. Thora was rebellious. She shook her head and leaned against Freydis who laughed,

"Come with me!" cried Merewyn, taking her daughter by the shoulders and swivehng her around.

"Nay, nay," said Thora, resisting while Freydis laughed again. Thora was as big as her mother, and might have won in a scuffle, which would be the most embarrassing thing Merewyn could think of, at this feast, and with Sigurd watching from across the Hall.

Astrid intervened. She squeezed down between the bench and the table, also making excuses about the privy. "Listen, Thora —" she said to the vacant eyes, the pretty face. "I've a bit of honeycomb with me. When you come back, you shall have it."

"Honeycomb —" Thora repeated, giggling. She hcked her lips. Smiling, she went outside with Merewyn. When they returned, Astrid had taken the seat beside Freydis who was

sullenly eating. Merewyn and Thora sat together, while Thora sucked happily on the honeycomb. Thora seldom had such a treat, for all sweets must be imported.

Erik's feast lasted longer than the habitual three days, because there was so much to discuss.

Leif, despite a painfully swollen nose, managed to make several speeches extolling the virtues of Christianity. From these speeches and those of Father Frederic, the company gathered that there were many advantages to being a Christian. When they died, all the good people went up to a place called Heaven, women too, and to get there you didn't have to die in battle or even be good all your life, you could repent at the last moment, and all your sins would be forgiven. Also the Lord Jesus Christ was loving and tender. He was like a shepherd counting and cherishing each one of his flock, and especially fond of the lambs, or children, in the flock.

This news appealed to the women. Erik, however, who listened angrily, now raised his head and said, "That god's a milksop." To Merewyn's dismay Sigurd spoke up. "I agree with you, Erik, and have always thought so. And what is this baptism Leif talks of but our own water-sprinkling? I see no difference, and forbid my son or daughter to have it done. For my wife, it is too late, she was made a Christian as a baby, and much good that did her! She was never happy until she came to Iceland."

"Oh, Sigurd . . ." Merewyn whispered, but had neither the courage nor the certainty to demur. For there had been little happiness in her early life — the miserable anxious years with her mother; the torment of loving Rumon and seeing him wanting nobody but Alfrida; the wretched times with Alfrida, while foreseeing the murder of Edward which she was powerless to prevent. Then Romsey convent. That had been better, but neither lucky nor happy; she had always been an outsider, and starved, she now knew, for the love of a man — found at last in Sigurd, her pagan husband.

She looked up as Father Frederic spoke again in his flat quiet v^oice. He was quite accustomed to all the arguments the Norse heathen brought out, and hardly listened to them.

"Luck and Happiness," he said, "are not important in this life. Our Lord Jesus Christ assures us of them later in the Kingdom of Heaven. But as a worldly thought, I will point out to you that your subsistence here depends upon trade with Norway and Iceland, that King Olaf Trygvason has sent us here, Leif and me, to make Christians of you, and will cut you off from all supplies if he finds that you refuse. Do you think Thor or Odin can help you then?"

This material consideration, which had already convinced Iceland, convinced almost all the men present. The women were already won. Thiodild gave orders for the immediate building of her church, ignoring Erik's growling protests, and she moved out of the bed she shared with him that night.

Christianity was not the only topic of conversation at Erik's feast. There was concern about the mysterious sickness in the Western Settlement, for two wives who had come to Brattalid began to ail. They had headaches and chills. They dragged listlessly around, and neither would sit on the Cross Bench. They did not want to eat. They wanted to get home as soon as their men would let them.

The men were in no hurry. For Leif had offered them a project far more interesting than illness or Christianity. He wanted to buy Bjame Herjolfson's ship, hire some of the crew who had been with Bjarne on that voyage to the West when he had not landed, and go to see what was really there.

Bjarne, at first protesting that he must set off for Iceland as usual, gave in rapidly when he found what Leif was willing to pay for the ship. Leif was rich, in Norway the King had given him sumptuous gifts, and Bjame decided that Leif's offer was worthwhile. So there was to be an expedition starting in a couple of weeks. Leif had no trouble finding an eager crew, and to that lad's intense excitement he invited Orm to join them.

"So ..." said Sigurd ruefully to Merewyn as they were riding home. "Our son is wild to go with Leif. I think I must let him. But the boy has forgotten, or doesn't care, that he was to ship with me on the Bylgja.^^

"Orm is very young and adventurous," said iMerewyn without expression. She Uked neither plan. She was tired. During these days she and Astrid had guarded Thora as best they could. Even so there had been one bad moment when Thora slipped out of bed in response to a low throaty call. Merewyn awoke instantly and followed her daughter into the sunny evening. She had no trouble finding her, for she heard little laughs and shrieks from behind the cow byre. Thora was naked, except for her woolen night shift, and Freydis, huge and malevolent, had pulled up the shift, and was doing something between the girl's legs, while she pricked her on the breasts with a little knife.

"You devil!" cried Merewyn. "Leave my child alone!" She ran for Freydis, and jumped at her so hard that the woman fell down. Merewyn wrenched the knife from her hand, and held it trembling while she mastered the desire to cut down on that broad square face, to slash the yellow eyes.

"Mama —" said Thora, her mouth hanging open. "Mama, we was playing a good game." Merewyn took her by the arm and propelled her back to bed.

Merewyn had not told Sigurd of this episode. She would when they got home. She would have to make him realize, or admit, that Thora was a baby in a woman's body, and that Freydis was dangerous. But he was already unhappy over Orm's defection, and besides he did not look well. His face was drawn, his movements much slower than usual, as he guided the old horse. Thora rode with Merewyn on the mare which formnately had foaled three times in Greenland. They had prospered in a way, as Thorbjorg had foretold. Their livestock multiplied, and Sigurd bartered walrus tusks, narwhal horns, and seal hides for luxuries which came in on the Norwegian trader or Icelandic fishing boats.

"Wife," said Sigurd when they reached Ketilvik, "I think I'll lie down. I've a headache, or at least a pain in my head such as I never had since a battle in Dublin years ago with Ketil."

"Go to bed then — elsknan min," she said quietly. "I'll bring you ale, and a cold cloth for your head."

She was not alarmed then, but she became so as the days went by and Sigurd showed no wish to get out of bed. He had chills at times, sometimes his body felt very hot. She was sponging him once when she noticed that his belly was covered with rosy spots, and wondered what they could be.

Brigid, when told to, shared the nursing. There was always soiled moss or straw to dispose of for the sick man's bowels ran like water. Merewyn occasionally got some sleep on the Cross Bench, since Sigurd was so restless he preferred to have their bed alone.

In a week, Orm came home, exuberant with plans for Leif's voyage of discovery to the west. Orm was full of news. Leif had indeed bought Bjame's ship and hired seven of his crew. They had all been tinkering with the ship, and outfitting her. Orm, the youngest member of the crew, had been much flattered that Leif consulted him at times, saying that though he knew the boy had made only fishing trips himself, yet the Jblood of great sailors was in him.

Orm had come home to say farewell, and pick up his gear. They would all set out next Thursday, which was Thor's day and lucky.

"Were there many baptisms after we left?" asked Merewyn faintly.

"Oh, quite a few, I think," said Orm, bored with anything which had nothing to do with the expedition. "Leif scarcely paid attention, we are so busy with plans. The priest did all that."

"I wish you would, Orm —" said Merewyn, stirring a seal-meat stew, and looking at her son.

"Would what? Oh, you mean this Christian stuff? Father doesn't Hke it. He said so."

Merewyn bowed her head. "Orm, your father is very ill. I'm worried. He may have caught the sickness they have in the Western Settlement. And he's distressed that you are going with Leif instead of on the Bylgja^

"Oh," said Orm, his neck flushing. "I didn't think. But to go with Lei^ —" He trailed off.

"Yes, I know," said Merewyn. This was her restless, handsome son, who must exactly resemble his father as Sigurd was years ago, when Sigurd first went a-viking. But on the other hand the expedition with Leif was different. It was an adventure into the unknown, and perhaps there would be no rape and murder involved. Perhaps no trading either. It was not like a Viking voyage. And Leif was a Christian — she reminded herself of that. He had been baptized. So he would take care of her son, and get him baptized perhaps.

When Orm went to visit his father in the bed-closet, even his youthful unawareness was shattered. Sigurd's face was gray and pinched, he continually muttered something one could not understand. He plucked at the eiderdown and had made a hole in it.

"Father —" said Orm. As Sigurd went on babbling, he repeated, "Father!"

Sigurd came slowly back into the world. His heavy eyehds hfted and focused on Orm. "My son —" he said. "I'm dying."

''''Nor cried Orm with a shiver. "You're strong. You've always been Sigurd the Strong!"

"No more —" Sigurd whispered, then gathered himself to say, "When I am gone, you must take care of your mother and your little sister. You will take them on the Bylgja away from here. The gods don't like Greenland. They do not wish us to be here. You will be head of the family now."

"Father . . ." said Orm helplessly, frightened by the look of the man on the bed. "You will not die, and I want to go with Leif," but he spoke so low that Sigurd did not hear him.

"I command this," said Sigurd. "Give me your hand."

Orm clasped his father's hand.

"Greenland was never the place for us," said Sigurd after a moment. "Nor will Norsemen endure here very long. There are evil spirits coming down from the ice cap. During these last days I've seen them. The white wolf with yellow eyes, she stalks my Thora. She hates my wife. I did not know before. Take your mother and sister away. Swear it! You must not go with Leif. Swear it!"

Orm swallowed three times, anxious to get rid of the burning hand which clung to his. "I swear—" he said in a feeble voice.

"Louder!" said Sigurd, raising on his elbow. "Swear by Thor and Odin, that when I am dead, you will take our womenfolk away."

"I swear by Thor and Odin," said Orm miserably after a moment.

"Swear by this new god too, that Jesus Christ —" said Sigurd. "Your mother believes in Him. And one can never.be quite sure."

"By Jesus Christ," said Orm, his lips trembUng, "and since Leif also beheves in Him, perhaps He is a stronger god."

"Make Thor's hammer sign to seal the oath," said Sigurd, gasping and putting his hand on his belly. "I've noticed that it is very like the sign the Christians make. Thor and Christ must understand each other."

Frightened by the wild look in his father's eyes, Orm made with his thumb the hammer sign of Thor — down, up — and across.

Sigurd slumped back on the bed. "There is a strange feel in my belly," he said in a high plaintive voice. "Get your mother."

Sigurd died on the following day.

Even though Astrid came to Merewyn, the new-made widow was so numb that she could neither weep nor talk. Nor would she go near the bed-closet she had once shared with Sigurd. She lay on a bench in the Hall, gazing into the fire, unable to eat.

At last prodded by Astrid, who was most lovingly worried, Merewyn appeared at Sigurd's burial behind the homestead, and even counted out the assets which would make for Orm's "Ardval" or inheritance feast. A pig to be slaughtered, two lambs, maybe three — what did it matter — and there was silver enough to buy mead from the Norwegian trader which had put in to Brattalid.