The United States of Vinland: The Landing (The Markland Trilogy) (2 page)

Before
turning to face the newcomers, she called back to Eskil, “Get the wood and
rope, and the sail as well. We will need it for shelter.”

Torrador
paused in his recovery and let out a chuckle, despite trying to stifle his
mirth in case he embarrassed his leader.

Eskil
grinned. That was his Gudda; she was never shy in voicing her opinion. He stood
and said, “Come, she talks to you, too!” He glanced at the other men and added,
“Steinarr and Samr, we have work to do!”

His
friends, coughing to clear their lungs, did as bidden and got to their feet.
The four of them began grabbing at any useful debris they found in the surf,
pulling it up onto the beach.

Gudrid
moved on and met the other survivors, bringing them back to Erik.

Eskil
could see it was the Icelandic couple, Ballr and Halla. He liked them; Ballr
was a resourceful and trustworthy man.

When
Erik the Dane recovered and was on his feet, Gudrid sent him and the Icelanders
back to Eskil, as she continued to walk along the beach, looking for more
survivors and salvage. Occasionally, she would turn and call back, telling of
particular items washed up on shore. After a good while, she turned and made
her way back to them, holding a box in her arms.

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!

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 been 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.