Runestone (45 page)

“Dove,” he said, “You have heard your brother tell of the big canoes of my people?”

She nodded. “Yes, what of them?” Her face was interested, curious.

“Nothing … I was thinking. We could bring them upriver, here.”

Dove looked confused. “Why?”

“To trade!”

“Oh.”

It was clear that she did not understand the significance of trade. Trade for the People was limited to an individual trader with his goods in his backpack.

“You see, my people—Fire Man’s and mine—we came in the big canoes.”

Dove still looked puzzled.

“Yes, so it is said.”

There was a long call from the trail ahead, and people began to rise and prepare to resume travel. The rest stop was over.

“I will tell you more of this later,” he promised, as they picked up their packs.

Maybe he should talk with Sven about his ideas. Yes, he would do that at first opportunity. They moved on.

That evening he found an opportunity to talk with Svenson. The old sailor was only moderately interested.

“Yes, it could be done. We did it. But by Thor’s hammer, Nils, that was hard work!”

“But Sven, the trees around the rapids are already cut now. We would not have to do that again. And once we have a ship in the upper river … Or we could build one above the rapids.”

Svenson nodded. “Yes …” That idea seemed to intrigue him. “That is true, Nils. I am no shipbuilder, but maybe, after we get home, we could find a crew of shipbuilders. You know, I have thought … The ship we burned, the
Norsemaiden
. She is above the rapids.”

“But she burned, Sven.”

“Yes, but I have seen ships burn before. They can burn only to the water line, no? Besides, many will sink before burning that far. At least, her planks would be usable. Maybe some ribs. It is worth a look. We can look on the way back to Straumfjord.”

He paused, and his eyes widened, then began to sparkle with excitement.

“The
Snowbird!”
he muttered. “Parts of her frame might be usable, too. Sister ships, built from the same plan … Nils, we might be closer to this than we think! It would be easy to carry planks and timbers around the rapids to use above. Easier than new timbers, and much easier than a whole ship.”

It was pleasing to see this excitement in Svenson. But the dream was a long way off.

“Sven, we would need shipbuilders, sawyers, carpenters, ropes and lines, sails. …”

They looked at each other, and both laughed.

“It
could
be done, though,” Svenson said.

“Yes, it could! First, though, we have to get back to Straumfjord.”

“And we cannot do that right now,” the sailor finished.

“True. But on the way back to the colony, we can look at the ships, what is left of them.”

On this sobering thought, the discussion ended for the present. This had introduced a new idea, however. With such grandiose plans ahead, it would be doubly hard to travel in the opposite direction day after day. Svenson apparently felt this, too.

“First,” he said, a twinkle of humor in his eyes, “we have to plant the corn.”

Both laughed.

“What is it?” asked Calling Dove. “What were you and Fire Man saying?”

They had reverted to the Norse tongue for the conversation, and no one but Odin could have understood. He was not present.

“Oh, nothing,” Nils told her. Then he relented. “No, we were talking of ships. The big canoes. And of returning to our people.”

Dove’s face fell, and tears glistened in her eyes.

“No, no,” Nils assured her quickly. “Not now. Later, maybe. Fire Man just now said that soon we must plant the corn.”

“That is all?”

“Yes.”

“Then what is the joke?”

He thought for a moment.

“The joke,” he explained, “is that Fire Man knows nothing of planting corn.”

Now her face relaxed, and her eyes twinkled with mischief.

“That is true,” she laughed. “But neither do you!”

• • •

It was the next morning as they prepared to travel that Nils noticed Svenson chipping at the trunk of a giant spruce with his ax.

“What are you doing?” he asked curiously.

“Marking it,” Sven said simply.

“But why?”

“Look at it … tall, straight. … It will make a good mast.”

“A
mast?”

“Of course. When we begin our shipbuilding.”

It took a moment for Nils to realize that Sven was completely serious. In another moment he realized that this
was
an exceptional tree, well suited to the purpose Sven envisioned for it.

“But this far inland?” he asked. “Why here?”

“Why not? A deep channel, here. As good a place as any to build ships.”

The old sailor straightened from his task and Nils saw the mischief in his eyes.

“No, seriously, Nils,” Svenson went on, “if we do build, we can cut and float timber down the river to wherever we wish. This is an especially fine mast. I thought to mark it, in case we need it.”

“I see.”

Nils did not see, entirely, but could partly follow the logic of the sailor. One thing he did not fail to notice. The mark or blaze that Sven had carefully chipped on the tree was on the side toward the river.

They might be traveling by land just now, but to Svenson, the only proper way would be by water.
A man without a boat is a man in chains
, echoed the old saying in the recesses of his mind. Odd … He had thought that Svenson was tolerating their predicament better than he. He wondered if the sailor even realized the depth of the powerful urge that called them back toward the sea.

But the People were beginning to move out for the day’s travel. Svenson finished with a last careful chip or two, and thrust the ax in his belt to pick up his pack and join the others.

T
hey had seen and visited with several different tribes or nations as they traveled. Their reception varied considerably, from warm welcome to outright hostility. On the whole, however, their manner of approach seemed effective.

Initial contact was by a pair or a trio of scouts, a day or two ahead of the main party. In principle, they approached the leaders of the village ahead, and asked permission to pass through their territory. “We mean no harm, we are only passing through,” was their message. Odin was often called upon to participate in this diplomatic gesture, because of his experience with other cultures and his language skills. He was also regarded as one of the most skilled in the use of hand signs.

Nils was rapidly learning the hand signs. It was a pleasant way to learn, as Calling Dove took a great interest in teaching him. Very quickly he progressed from the obvious signs for “eat” and “drink,” for “sleep,” “talk,” “man,” “woman.” Woman … the hand sign was a motion with the right hand, as if combing long hair. He found this a charming thing, especially when demonstrated by Calling Dove. She did it as a demure gesture, her eyes averted flirtatiously, with a provocative smile. She
was
“woman.”

Other signs were not quite so obvious. There was one that he saw used whenever another people was being discussed. The index and middle fingers of the right hand were used to touch lightly the back of the left hand, in a stroking motion. He inquired about it, and after a bit of confusion in language, he began to understand that it meant a group of people.

“Our people? The People?” he asked.

“Yes,
any
people,” Dove assured him.

He was still unsure, and Dove seemed to have trouble explaining, so she called to her brother.

“Oh!” said Odin, reverting to Norse to explain. “It is ‘tribe’ or ‘nation.’ That sign, then the sign for
which
people.”

Quickly, he demonstrated several signs. People of the Forest; Bird People; People Who Are Downstream Enemies.

“This is ‘enemy’?” Nils interrupted.

“Yes. This is ‘friend or brother. …’ “He raised his right hand with index and middle finger extended. “Then ‘no.’ Together they say ‘not friend … enemy.’”

“What is the sign for
the People?”
Nils asked.

“We call ourselves the People,” Odin said, “but everyone calls himself that. Others use this sign for
us
,”

He made the sign for “nation,” then a cupped hand for “drink,” and finally a motion with his right hand, palm down, fingers fluttering.

“Running water?” Nils asked.

“Yes. River. ‘People Who Live by the River.’”

“But others live by the river, too.”

“Yes. Sometimes it is slow to understand. But others are called by other names. Like our not-friends.”

“And what do you call my people, the Norse?” Nils asked, curious.

Odin laughed. “That is not sure yet. ‘People of Big Canoes.’ Sometimes ‘People with Hairy Faces, People with Light Eyes.’ Any of those signs. Maybe put in the sign for ‘stranger.’ Would it not be plain who is meant?”

“So, the signs change?”

“Of course. New things happen. The coming of your people … After a while everyone will use the same signs. But not always.”

“Not always?” Nils was puzzled.

“Look, your name … You are Thorsson, and sometimes Fire Man calls you Nils. But now you are White Wolf. I was Walking Bird, but now am Odin.”

Nils was thinking of all the variant names by which Svenson had been called by the People, finally settling on Fire Man.

“But these are names,” he pointed out. “Other things do not change, do they?”

“Oh, yes. To Dove you are husband, to Fire Man, you are friend. And to me … brother, almost.”

Nils was deeply touched. He did not know what to say. Was this usage because of the marriage relationship, that which would be “brother-in-law” at home? He did not want to read too much into such wordage. “It is good,” he finally mumbled. But he still had questions.

“But still, almost-brother,” he began again, “these things are about names and people. Some things do not change. A dog is a dog, no?”

He pointed as one of the dogs wandered over to lie down in the sun, taking advantage of the rest stop. Another, nearby, wriggled a little to ease the discomfort of the pack that it carried. Most of the larger dogs had been called upon to help transport the belongings of the People when they started their trek.

“Ah, but is it?” asked Odin, mischief in his one eye. “There are two, there.” He pointed to the animals lying in the sun. “One carries a pack, one not. One is yellow, one black. Big, small … I think, Wolf, that a dog can be many things — tall, old, angry, hungry. …”

“Yes, yes, I see.” At least, Nils was beginning to understand.

“Even the People. Hand signs for ourselves. We might use this—’mother. …’ “Odin placed his right hand on his left chest, then the sign for “tribe” and then “mother” again. “The Mother Nation …
Us
. But to others, we are ‘People of the River.’ To some, even, maybe we are ‘not-friend …
enemy
.’”

   It was many more days’ travel before there began to be discussion about stopping for the season, to plant the corn. The leaders of the People consulted often, and old Clay, the holy man, performed ceremonies designed to assist in the decision.

There were several factors involved. They must choose a place where the ground could be tilled, yet one not used already by local inhabitants. It would be an advantage to be
near
growers of corn, however, to see how
they
managed the planting
and the harvest. All of this must be done without presenting a threat to the occupants of the area.

Nils did not quite understand all of this. He listened to the discussions around the fire, still limited to a degree by the newness of the language. He was taken completely off guard, therefore, when the problem suddenly began to involve him.

Nils had been lost in thought as the drone of conversation mingled with the crackling of the fire. It was warm, and he was a little drowsy, his mind far away. Suddenly he realized that everyone was looking at him.

“Wh—what?” he mumbled. He turned to Odin.

“The holy man asks you, White Wolf,” Odin said seriously, “when should we plant the corn, and where?”

There was a moment of panic. Nils sat with open mouth, trying to think what to say. He had never even
seen
corn planted, had no idea.

“But—” he stammered, helpless.

Odin came to his rescue.

“Say nothing for a moment, Thorsson,” Odin said in the Nordic. “Act thoughtful. I will help you.”

“But what can I say? I know nothing. …”

“Never mind. I am not sure what is happening here. Right now we must play for time while we think on this.”

“Where is Svenson?” asked Nils. Maybe Sven would have an idea.

“Not here. He and Fawn … you know, they spend much time alone.” It was one of the common jokes.

“I will just tell them I know nothing of this!” Nils said.

“No, no. Do not do that. This may be a test of your powers.”

“
My powers!”
Nils’s heart sank. “I have no powers, Odin. What? …”

“Wait. This is not a thing to deny. Let me answer for you. I am your assistant, no? We can set it aside to give time to talk of it. You have the sun-stone?”