Runestone (41 page)

Odin sobered. “That is true. We must be on guard.”

“Odin, it is not good to bring this danger on your people,” Nils said. “Maybe we should leave.”

It was an impulsive statement, and Odin’s responding glance was almost indignant.

“Why? They would still seek to hurt us, and we would have two fewer warriors. Besides, your families…”

“Forgive me, Odin. It was a stupid idea.”

Odin diplomatically refrained from agreeing, at least not aloud.

   The rising and falling wail of the Song of Mourning was still sounding through the village as the evening shadows lengthened. Every lodge, and nearly every family, had been affected. It was fortunate, most agreed, that the killing was not worse, considering the timing and the nature of the attack.

The bodies of the fallen had been wrapped for burial and tied securely. Then they were hoisted into the trees outside the village, and tied to crude scaffolds in the branches.

“The earth is frozen,” Odin explained.

“They will be buried later?” Nils asked.

“Yes. Much later, maybe.”

The one lodge that had been destroyed completely was still burning inside. Even now, a day later, smoke and flame belched up through openings in the dirt of the collapsed dome. The homeless ones had been taken in by friends and relatives. They had lost everything.

A young man approached the Norsemen and Odin as they talked.

“There will be a council tonight at the lodge of Big Tree,” he stated. “I was asked to tell you.” He turned and hurried on to finish spreading the word.

   The lodge was crowded. It was the largest in the village, but everyone would want to be present for this most important council.

“They will decide nothing,” one old woman complained. “They never do.”

Still, she moved along with the others, packing closely into
the dim lodge. The air was heavy with the smell of winter’s smoky fires and unwashed bodies. One cannot bathe often when the river is frozen.

“Leave the doorskin open!” someone called. It was done, and the fire began to blaze up for better light, as well as a better movement of air up through the square smoke hole.

Nils and Svenson joined Odin just inside the door, but the headman motioned the three forward. They found places near the fire, between Clay and Singing Moose.

Odin saw immediately from the seating and the expressions on the faces of those leaders that serious discussion would happen tonight. He was apprehensive, at least a little bit. The more he had thought about it during the day, the more seriously he was taking the idea that this had been a vengeance raid.

The Enemy had been engaged in a war of extermination with the Norse outsiders. There had been few survivors, possibly only these two. He, Odin, had helped them escape, partly by trickery. He
did
think that there were powerful spirit-forces at work here, but that was a different matter. The three
had
survived, but now, in thinking back, would not the Enemy be wanting to complete the unfinished war? They must have spent the winter convincing each other that they had been tricked. To finish the war of extermination against the invaders, the Enemy must track down and kill these two. And of course, Odin himself. They would blame him for any trickery that was involved. Yes, his position was almost as perilous as that of the two Norsemen.

Odin was not certain that he saw any reasonable solution. Well, he would wait and see how the discussion would go in the council. Maybe he would gain some ideas.

Finally Big Tree rose and held a hand up for quiet. His pipe bearer filled and handed him the council pipe, and Tree lighted it with a stick from the fire. Then he blew a puff to the four winds, to the sky and the earth, and handed it to Clay, who repeated the ritual.

“You know the reason for this council,” Tree stated after the pipe had made its circuit around the front row.

There was a brief murmur, which subsided spontaneously.

“We have been attacked, and hurt,” he went on. “Now, what is to be done?”

“Were the other towns attacked?” someone asked.

“Other towns?” whispered Nils to Odin as a buzz of conversation circled the lodge.

“Yes,” Odin answered, also in a whisper. “You know, the People have two other towns. …”

“We think maybe not,” Big Tree answered to the assembly. “We have sent runners…one has returned, from the western town. They have seen nothing.”

“But what of the other town?” a woman asked. “The Enemy would have to pass there to come here!”

“She has relatives there,” Odin whispered.

Big Tree shrugged. “We will have to wait,” he said. “Let us go on with the talk.”

“But it makes a difference,” a man protested. “Is this a war, or only a raid?”

“
Only
a raid?” snapped Big Tree, obviously irritated. “They can come again!”

There was silence for a moment and then an old woman spoke.

“All my life I have seen these raids. They steal our crops…our children … my own sister was stolen by these Downstream Enemies when we were children. Is there nothing we can do?”

“Attack
them!”
shouted a young man. “Give them a taste!”

“Let us go slowly,” said Clay, speaking for the first time. “The other towns must be willing to join us if we choose that.”

It was a gentle reminder that the Enemy was far more numerous and more powerful than the People. All of the People must be in agreement, even the other towns, because they would quickly be involved.

Now a young man rose to speak, and received the nod of recognition from the headman.

“My heart is heavy to speak of this,” he said, “but maybe they were after White Wolf and Fire Man.”

Bedlam broke loose after a brief moment of shocked silence. There were shouts of agreement and of protest. Odin
was startled that there appeared to be others who had considered this possibility.

Big Tree, to his credit, handled it well.
Maybe
, thought Odin,
I have underestimated him
. Tree spread his palms and spoke quietly as the noise died.

“And what is that to any of us?” he asked. “These men are of the People. They have joined us, married with women of the People. They helped in the defense. We are honored to have such holy men among us.”

There were nods of agreement.

“Maybe they envy us,” Tree went on.

“But if these outsiders were not here, maybe we would not have been attacked,” shouted an angry man.

He was hooted down immediately, but Nils rose to speak.

“My brothers,” he said, “if we are a danger to the People, Fire Man and White Wolf will leave!”

Shouts of protest rose. It was obvious that most of the People believed that the advantages of the Norsemen’s presence outweighed any dangers. After all, here were two experienced fighting men, who had been a valuable addition to the defense only yesterday. There were still, however, a few who seemed unconvinced.

“But would we have been attacked without them here?” the angry man persisted.

“Maybe not,” Big Tree said calmly. “We will know more when our runner returns. If the other town was bypassed, then White Wolf and Fire Man must have been the Enemy’s target.”

There was a shout from outside. “The runner comes!” said a man in the doorway.

“It is good!” said Big Tree. “I hoped for this.”

The exhausted runner slipped inside, breathing heavily. There was not a sound while the crowd waited.

“The town…” He panted. “Was
not
attacked!”

There was an uneasy exchange of glances around the lodge. If the Enemy had bypassed a closer village to attack this one, it must be that the suggested theory was correct. The attack must have been aimed at saving face by searching out the last of the Norsemen. This was the murmur that traveled
like lightning through the crowd. Big Tree held up a hand, and the murmuring grew quiet.

“Then what shall be done?” he asked.

Undoubtedly there were those who would have comfortably solved the dilemma by casting out the Norsemen. They were silent, however. The tide of opinion seemed to flow against the use of that solution. Besides, few would dare to challenge the power of White Wolf’s gift. An uncomfortable silence hung in the air for a few moments. Then Clay, the aging holy man, cleared his throat to speak. In a way, it was a relief of tension that anyone would break the uneasy stillness. That it would be this respected elder of the People was doubly good.

“No one has noticed,” Clay said solemnly, “that it may have been our brother Walking Bird, now called Odin, that they sought.”

There was a startled exclamation or two, followed by a muttering that quieted as he continued.

“Think about it, my friends. This man of the People has defied them for many seasons. They captured and tortured him, took his eye. He escaped, and made them look foolish. Then, with the help of the powers of White Wolf and Fire Man, he did it again!”

There were chuckles now, and a sense of pride and accomplishment. Odin marveled at the old man’s skill in dealing with people. He was overcoming some of the insecurity, fear, and dread of the Downstream Enemy by poking fun at them. And in a serious, even a solemn way.

“It probably does not matter,” Clay continued. “They do seek a vengeance against us, this town of the People. Whether against our brother Odin or our new brothers, does not matter much. They will come again, and will be angrier because they have been shamed.”

Clay settled back as if he had finished talking.

“So, what do you suggest, Uncle?” someone asked.

Clay shrugged. “That is for us to decide in council. I do not know. But we must choose what we want to do. …Prepare to fight to defend ourselves, or prepare to go somewhere else.”

Odin smiled to himself. He wondered if Clay and Big Tree
had discussed all of this previously and had already reached a decision. It was possible that Clay was acting a role, forcing the People to think. Odin had already come to a conclusion, one that would shake the world of the People to its very core. It was a decision, though, that must not be suggested by anyone directly connected with the source of the problem. That eliminated himself, the newcomers, and their families and friends. Maybe even the storytellers, though Singing Moose was not likely to suggest ideas anyway. The storyteller’s function was to retell and inform, not to suggest innovation.

Odin waited for someone to speak, and a man rose, hesitantly.

“Did not the People once have a wall of logs or posts around the village to defend it?”

There were murmurs and nods.

“We could do that again,” he suggested. “Cut trees, build a wall.”

Now there was a mixture of nods and hoots of derision as the man sat down.

“Yes,” said Big Tree. “It would be hard work.”

“But we must defend ourselves,” someone called.

“Of course. But there is much work this season already,” said another. “Two of the lodges are old, and need rebuilding. Another burned yesterday. Could we cut enough trees before the Enemy comes back?”

Odin happened to be watching the face of Big Tree at the moment, and saw a fleeting expression of pleasure. Now he was certain. This man, too, had been speaking a part, playing a role in the decision that seemed the logical one to Odin. If it had been planned in advance, as he suspected, it was going well.

“That is true,” Big Tree was saying now, “but what else can we do? Move somewhere else?”

“It is easier to build new lodges than to repair old ones,” someone noted.

“But where?”

Now the air was filled with comments, questions, and discussion.

“Here!”

“No, a safer place.”

“Huh! Where would that be?”

Yes
, thought Odin,
I was right. It has been planned. And very skillfully, too
. By the time the voting came, everyone would think that the move was his own idea. Big Tree was certainly a more capable leader than Odin remembered. Or maybe he, Odin, had merely grown in understanding.

Whatever…tonight or tomorrow the People would vote to move their village, and that was probably good. He was uneasy, though, about the reaction of the Norsemen, the adopted brothers of the People. As he saw it, any logical move would take them farther from what they wished, a return to their own people.

But that, too, was good. At least, if he could prevent their becoming too upset about it.

I
t was with something of a shock that Nils realized what was happening. The matter under discussion was whether the People should move or not. A move was probably a good idea, it seemed as he listened to the discussion.

Sometimes the more complicated arguments were difficult for him to follow. Eventually he began to realize fully the significance of the direction in which public opinion was moving. They were not talking about a move to another site for rebuilding the town. This would be a move to another
area
. It did not take him long to realize that the People would not choose to move
closer
to the enemy. Any move would be away from this threat. And farther, of course, from the colony at Straumfjord, and passage home.