Runestone (42 page)

He had struggled with the necessity to stay with the People for a time because of Dove’s pregnancy. He had come to
peace with that, convincing himself that it was temporary. But a move such as that which was being discussed was something else. This presented a threat. It was not merely a postponement of any return home, but a long-term impediment. His main concern revolved around one question:
Where
would such a proposed new location be?

Everyone seemed a bit vague about it. It was not a matter of a reluctance to discuss the plan. Rather, it seemed to be that even in a decision of this importance the People saw no urgency. It was a part of their approach to the world, their lack of dependence on time.

“It is not time to think of that yet,” Odin had told him.

Nevertheless it was frustrating to Nils. More so than to Svenson. Sven had adjusted more easily because of long days and weeks at sea, Nils decided. The old sailor seemed to feel no more urgency than Red Fawn did, or Odin, or any of the others.

Nils sighed deeply, and toyed with the knife in his hand. It was a good weapon, a Norseman’s belt knife that had been carried by one of the attacking Enemy. The first man, the one who had met the point of Nils’s sword … It was heavy, well balanced, of good steel, and still held an edge. He was pleased to have acquired such a knife, because he had none since their disastrous defeat last season. Its blade was as long as a hand’s span, and its hilt felt good in his grip.

He wondered about the Norseman who had worn it. All the way from Stadt he had carried the knife, only to lose it and his life on an uncharted river in a violent land. Had there been any meaning in the life of that nameless sailor? Or in his own? Nevertheless, the knife was somehow reassuring, a tie with home, so far away.

The council had adjourned without a decision the night before. Delegates were coming from the other towns to take part in the discussion. There was still a possibility, it seemed, that the People would go to war. It appeared unlikely, though, Nils thought. The idea had been all but rejected last night in favor of a move of some sort. Surely delegates from towns not involved in the violence would not choose a warlike position.

That in turn lent credibility to the idea that a move was imminent. Such a decision was unsettling, to say the least. It
was even more so, however, when Nils realized the significance of participation by delegates from other towns. These people were not thinking in terms of a short distance, but a major relocation. He sought out Odin, only to find his friend rather uncommunicative.

“Who knows?” Odin shrugged.

“But, Odin, the people from the other towns…will they move, too?”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe they will leave their towns?”

“That is for them to decide.”

“Odin, you think the People will decide to move, no?”

“Maybe so.” The answer was cautious.

“So…” Nils decided to try another tack. “How far?”

“How far what?”

“The
move”
Nils snapped irritably. “How far will we move?”

Odin suppressed a look of surprise.

“Oh. I do not know.”

“And the other towns? Could we join one of them?”

“Maybe,” Odin said carefully. “Thorsson, that is why they come to the council. I do not know.”

Somehow, Nils felt very strongly that Odin knew much more than he was willing to say. Maybe it would help to talk to Svenson, but he could not find Svenson. Fire Man was somewhere with Red Fawn, it seemed, talking with some of the people who were arriving from the other towns.

   It was evening before those for whom they waited were fully assembled. The newcomers were openly curious about the Norsemen, leading Nils to wonder what they had been told. A few of the visitors had been here before, and would have described the adopted warriors who had joined Big Tree’s band.

“Yet they see, even though their eyes are blue?” he heard a woman ask her companion.

“Yes, it seems so.”

“And they have the hair of the old?”

“This one, yes. You have not seen the hair of the other. It is like a flame. He is called Fire Man.”

“Because of the hair?”

“Partly, maybe. But he can also shoot flames from his fingers, I am told.”

“
Aiee!
They must be very powerful!”

“It seems so.”

The two moved on, and Nils relaxed. It had been a strange experience. The two from one of the other towns had carried on a conversation about him as if he were not there. It had been very uncomfortable, to hear and understand, yet pretend that he did not. He was not certain why he had done that. Out of embarrassment for the strangers, maybe. It was happening before he realized it, and then what could he say?
I understand what you are saying about me?
It had been easier to appear ignorant of the content of their conversation.

He was amused by some of the remarks that day about the hairy faces of the Norsemen. The People seemed to have very little facial hair. The Norsemen had thought at first that Skraelings had none at all. Later, it became apparent that the People did indeed have sparse growth on their faces, but that it was plucked periodically, as one plucks a goose. He and Svenson had discussed that. Nils had actually considered the procedure, and denuded a patch on one cheek. Sven, laughing, refused even to try it. His beard was much heavier than that of Nils, and the task looked too imposing.

“Besides, am I not Fire Man?” Sven joked, fluffing his luxuriant bush proudly.

In the end, both had decided that it was far easier to let nature take her course. The People were now quite accustomed to their full beards, except for newcomers who now came from the other towns to the council.

   Tension and excitement increased as the time neared. If it had seemed crowded in the lodge before, it was doubly so now. It became necessary to exclude some of the children, not because they should be denied the council, but because there was no room. Seats were needed for the delegates.

It was a strange council all around, Odin noted. In his lifetime, there had never been such a council, one at which the air was so thick with the enormity of the decisions that were to be made.
Maybe
, he thought,
maybe it is only that I
now see the importance
. But no, that was not it. There had never
been
a decision so important.

The crowd quieted, the pipe circulated, and the discussion began. Visiting headmen made brief speeches pledging unity. No one seemed to want to approach the major issue that all now realized as the decisive question. Finally it was broached by one of the visitors.

“We have heard,” said Black Squirrel, “that you are thinking of a move.”

It would have been possible to hear the falling of a breath-feather, so still was the big lodge. Big Tree waited a little while to answer.

“That is true,” he said finally. “We are made to think that the Downstream Enemy will come again. We need to build three lodges anyway, so it is this:
Where
shall they be built?”

“You would be welcome to join us,” said Spotted Hawk, headman of the other town, “but I am made to think that is too many. We would all have to go too far in the hunt.”

There were nods of agreement. Too large a band required more food than could be hunted or grown in a reasonably sized area. Hunters would have to range too far for their own safety.

“That is as we have thought,” agreed Big Tree. “But the three clans of the People must not lose each other.”

“That, too, is true,” agreed Black Squirrel. “But, let us say what we are all thinking. If you move, Big Tree, then we should all follow you.”

“No, no!” insisted Big Tree. “I do not ask that your clan follow
me
. It is only that the People stay together. We must, because alone, we are weak. Whatever we decide, we must stay together. Close, but not
too
close.”

“How is this, Uncle?” asked a young man, using the traditional term of respect for an older male.

“It is this way,” explained Big Tree. “We cannot just start. When the time comes to plant corn, we must be
where
we can plant. Then we must stay there until after harvest, and then decide where we winter. We must have time to
build
lodges for winter.”

Odin watched the headman closely.
He has thought of this for a long time
, he realized.
Before the attack, maybe
.

That led Odin into an entirely new area of thought. Already, he had decided that a major move would be good for the People. The People were largely peaceable and nonviolent. They were dependent in large part on their crops, but were often raided by the Downstream Enemy.

He had seen and realized much during his years of absence. The People, he realized, were surrounded by more aggressive tribes. The recent raid was confirmation of his theory. The coming of the Norsemen was yet another factor. He had been fortunate, he now realized, that he had not been killed at Straumfjord. Or thrown out, to be killed by those who had pursued him.

But they had taken him in. Out of pity, maybe. More likely, simple curiosity. He had furnished the colonists an opportunity to observe one of the Skraelings, as they called him. They had considered him a savage, a lesser human, and he had survived by trying to be what they
wished
him to be. He had always thought that eventually he would be able to make his way home. The Norse expedition up the great river had been his opportunity.

Odin often wondered what would be the situation if he had not fallen in with these two, White Wolf and Fire Man. He had come to a conclusion long ago, that it would be good for the People to relocate to the west, away from access by water. They were being pushed more aggressively year by year as the Downstream Enemy became stronger. Add to that the coming of the light-haired foreigners in their great canoes. That expedition had been destroyed, but there would be more. There might be a great war between them and the Downstream Enemy. And when the bull elk fight, anything underfoot is trampled.

He liked these two strangers, White Wolf and Fire Man. Their association had been beneficial to all of them. Lifesaving, in fact. They were now family, relatives by marriage, and that was good.

Yet he was not certain that he trusted any others of the Norsemen. Some were good, some bad, of course, like any other tribe. His doubt was stirred in uneasy remembrance of the Norse headman who had led them into disaster. Landsverk…
was that his name? That one was a little bit crazy. What if others like that one came?

No, it would be better for the People to avoid an area where it appeared that two violent peoples were headed for war. To do that, they must relocate. But where? He had long considered that. They were restricted by the terrain in some directions, by the water in others, and the Enemy in still another. There was basically only one way to go—west.

He had talked to a traveling trader once while a prisoner of the Downstream people. The man had carried red stone for medicine pipes, and knives and arrow points of flint from far away. Strange colors of stone, unknown here. Pink, black, white…The trader talked of a trail that led to the west, an ancient trail, used for many lifetimes. There was plenty of game to the west, the trader said, open country and fewer people.

That was inland, of course, away from home, for the Norsemen. Maybe he could convince them that it was a temporary move.

His thoughts were jarred back to the present by the words of the headman.

“I have been told,” Big Tree was saying carefully, “that there are fewer people and more game to the west. There is an ancient trail that leads there. I am made to think that the People should go west.”

Aiee!
thought Odin.
Did he talk to the same trader?

“What about the crops?” someone called.

“We move until planting time,” Tree answered instantly. “Then stop until harvest.”

“And stay there to live?” another voice challenged.

“Maybe…Maybe, if it is good. Move on, maybe. We decide when the time comes.”

I have surely overlooked this man’s leadership
, Odin was thinking.
I can help him
.

But for now, he had a more pressing problem. He must convince White Wolf and Fire Man that this was a wise decision. Already he could see that it would be a difficult task.

T
here was very little argument. It appeared that the headmen of the other towns of the People had also realized the threat that hung like a cloud over this, their traditional home. The other towns, too, had their number of old lodges that must be replaced. They faced the same problems, the same threats, as the town of Big Tree.

There was discussion, but it centered around preparation for the move, and
how
it would be carried out, not
whether
. Preparations began immediately. It was noted that a few days would be required to ready their belongings for travel. Much would be discarded. There were wails of protest from some of the old women, whose lives had been stable but were now beset with change. Yet even as they raised their voices in dire predictions of disaster, they started to pack. A sense of excitement and adventure began to make itself felt. New scenes, new sights, sounds, and smells. It would be like a visit from a traveling trader, but better. Everyone, from the oldest grandmother to the smallest child, would be a participant in the great adventure. They would
live
it, not just hear of it from a trader who had experienced it.