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Message-ID: <48043asstr$1085836205@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "smilodon" <smilodonREMOVE@postmaster.co.uk>
NNTP-Posting-Date: Fri, 28 May 2004 13:02:30 +0000 (UTC)
Subject: {ASSM} (History) - Vinland by smilodon (m/f, first, hist)
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Date: Sat, 29 May 2004 09:10:05 -0400
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
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Vinland



"This saga I had from Thorfinn Fairhair, who sailed with Leif the Lucky when
he was but a boy of sixteen summers. Mighty were those men who followed the
whale's path to Vinland the Good. Thorfinn is old now and in his dotage but
his eye still brightens and his sinews stiffen whenever this story is told.
If it please you, Lords, I will recount the tale.

"Now it happened that there was a man of Eyrar, in Iceland, named Biarni
Heriulfson. It was Biarni's habit to spend one season trading and the next
with his father, who had settled in Greenland with Erik the Red. This one
year, the fourth of Olaf's reign, Biarni sailed from Eyrar bound for
Heriulfsness. They had sailed but three days when the wind turned to the
north and clouds covered the sun. Bitter was that wind and it blew
stout-hearted Biarni beyond the ken of men. Biarni's crew were much afraid
and neither the sunstone nor the sunshadow-board could help them. This
Biarni was a man of valour and through those desolate days he stood by the
styri and guided them ever on, past mountains made of ice until, at length,
the welcome sun burst through once more and they could discover their
position.

"Biarni steered them ever westwards until they sighted land. It was in Biarni
's mind to sail close to this land, which was much wooded, but they saw no
place to land. He sailed onwards for another day and they discovered another
land with white beaches that promised fair, but this was no more like
Greenland than the first. Biarni would not beach the knarr nor allow his
crew to go ashore for wood and water, both of which he had in plenty.
Instead, he ordered them to turn their faces to the east and, after several
days of sailing and the finding of two more unknown lands, came safe once
more to Heriulfsness. And thus it was that Leif Eriksson, whom men now call
'the lucky,' first came to hear of that far off place beyond the western
sea...."

Leif Eriksson stood on a bale of wool and raised his voice to carry to the
back of the crowd gathered in front of him.

"As many of you know, I plan another voyage. I have bought a knarr from
Biarni Heriulfson - that same knarr that Biarni sailed beyond where the sun
sets to a strange land. It is in my mind to see that place and harvest some
of the timber Biarni saw growing in plenty. Are there men among you who
would voyage with me?"

The crowd murmured and a few questions were shouted. Leif answered them
directly, in plain speech, for such is our way. This was no call to go
a-viking with promises of plunder. This was something new - a voyage of
exploration beyond the lore of sailing men. There would be much danger and
no certainty of riches at the end. It was just the sort of prospect to fire
my young heart with dreams of glory and sagas yet to come. I was one of the
first to move and stand before our captain and swear the oath of
comradeship.

My name is Thorfinn Hanarrsson, whom men call Fairhair; a Greenlander born,
for Hanarr, my father, was among those who first came here with Erik. When I
was but twelve summers, my father's ship was lost on a voyage to Norway. It
was a drakkr, a long ship, not one of the fatter, trading knarrs; it should
have been mine, had he lived. That same year my mother succumbed to the
winter sickness and I was alone in the world. I could have returned to my
foster-father's hearth but I thought myself too much the man. I chose
instead to go fishing and took my skiff in search of codfish among the
skerries that dot the sea around the coast hereabouts. I got to know each
rock and reef and the way the tides set. I ventured far and wide in search
of fish but had never been out of sight of land. Now Leif was offering the
chance of a real voyage, I leapt at it like a returning salmon. I was young,
had no family and yearned for the adventure of it.

 From the first, Leif asked his famous father to be our leader. Erik pleaded
his years weighed too heavy on him but Leif silvertongue talked him round.
Now, as some of you know, the knarr is a trading ship with a high freeboard
and fixed mast. It needs fewer men than a drakkr and has fewer oars. We only
row a knarr in and out of port. Nigh on ten hands of men stepped forward to
answer Leif's call but he chose only four and thirty to be his companions.
We gathered together to haul the knarr onto the beach and worked some days
careening her and re-caulking the planks. She was a stout ship, Norway-built
of strong pine with a mast and yard of finest spruce. From stem to stern she
measured twenty-one paces and from keel to tholepins she was a head higher
than the tallest man. She could ride the sea anywhere it reached a man's
waist and was fast enough under sail but a devil to row, which a man must do
standing, pacing forward twice on each sweep, on account of her high
freeboard. Still, it made her a dry ship, for which we would have cause to
be grateful.

By early summer all was prepared. The knarr smelt of fresh pine and tar and
Leif had caused a new sail to be sewn from fine linen. All was in readiness
and the day dawned when we were to leave upon our great adventure. Leif rode
over the hill to his father's steading at Brattahlid to bring the great man
to us and then set sail. On the return, Erik's horse stumbled and threw him.
The old man hurt his ankle and cried out to Odin that he was not meant to
voyage more but see his days out on the land. Even Leif, who was a follower
of the White Christ, could not ignore such omens and thus it was Leif became
our leader and five and thirty sailed that day for the West.

Leif had chosen me for my knowledge of the skerries and my keen sight. I
could spot a half-tide rock by the way the sea swirled and so I found myself
at the prow, guiding the knarr from port and out into the ocean. Leif
himself took the styri and set our course - due west. The sun shone and the
wind was light and out of the east so we made good time. I listened to the
sea chuckling under the knarr's forefoot and sang in my heart. Gulls wheeled
and shouted their harsh cries above us and two porpoises kept station as we
glided over the water. All that day, Greenland grew smaller in our wake
until all we could descry were the very mountaintops, gleaming white in the
setting sun. It was strange to see the sun still upon them when all around
us the night had fallen. Leif said this is because the world is curved like
an upturned dish, but I know not.

I don't believe I slept at all that first night. The old salts bedded down
as soon as it grew dark but I was too excited. I stood beside Snorri, who
had replaced Leif at the styri, and talked so much nonsense he gave me a
clout and bade me be silent. I took it in good part, though, and even
relieved him of the steering when his head started to nod. I was still there
when the sun came up. The dawn is different at sea. There is no gradual
transition from night to day, no mountains for the sun to hide behind. A
golden glow lit the few clouds and then the sun appeared over the horizon,
striking fire from our wake. I could not credit how swiftly the sun climbed.
I held out my hand to cover it and it moved as I watched. I vow it was the
most beautiful thing I had ever seen. Oh yes, I've been up with the dawn
many times to launch my skiff, but watching the sun crawl its way over the
mountains was never as thrilling as the first dawn at sea, out of sight of
land with only the grey-blue ocean all around us.

We broke our fast and I was set to bailing. No seas had come inboard in that
gentle lop, but we had taken on some water before the caulking grew tight,
as always happens at first. By then I was tired to the bone and could
scarcely keep my eyes open but I had to wait for Leif to take the noon
sight. He took up the sunshadow-board and measured where the shadow fell at
noon. It was a mite longer than it had been when he took the sight at
Heriulfsness for we had drifted a little south during the night. So we
altered course to west with a touch of north in it.

I slept the afternoon away and the sun was low when I woke again. The wind
had stiffened and there were whitecaps dusting the sea. The knarr's motion
was stronger and now the water frothed and hissed at the planking as we sped
along. The sky was still clear of clouds and the last of the gulls had
departed; we were quite alone. I made my way to the prow once more and
stared ahead, straining my eyes against the glare for any sign of land. Of
course there was none! We were as far from any land as it is possible to be.
It was then I saw one of the great crystal mountains that aren't anchored
land but drift about the ocean. The falling sun had painted it with rose and
gold and I cried out in wonder, pointing to my comrades to witness this
strange miracle. The older men had seen such bergs before, but there were
more than a few of us seeing the sight for the first time. Leif altered
course to take us closer in but we dare not venture too near. More than one
ship has found itself stranded on a shelf unseen below the surface and
suffered to be crushed by falling chunks of ice.

Close to, the berg was not the brilliant white lent by distance, but took on
a greenish hue. We could discern great boulders trapped within the ice and
it had a forbidding look. If one part of that great berg showed above the
sea then we knew there were six parts below, so we steered well clear and
circled outside hailing distance before resuming our westward path. The berg
receded in our wake and I, for one, was glad of it. Leif gave orders for a
double watch that night lest we encounter more of the floating monsters. I
took my turn at the prow but saw nothing in my shift.

The next three days passed uneventfully, each followed the last in
procession. The wind held steady and we kept our course, confirmed each noon
by the sunshadow-board. Thus it was that on the sixth day, I was bailing
again when a great cry went up "Land!" I rushed to join the others at the
prow and there it was! I thought at first there was some trick; that we had
gone full circle and returned to Greenland, for white mountains rose on the
horizon. I soon saw my mistake, though. This land was not as great as
Greenland.


"I shall go one better than Biarni," said Leif. "Make ready to land."

We closed with the shore but saw no shelving beach to take our keel. Leif
then ordered the after-boat launched and he went ashore with a few picked
men to survey the scene. I was not one of those chosen and spent an hour or
two grinding my teeth in frustration. When the captain returned we weighed
anchor and nosed our way coastwise. Once more I was set to watch for
skerries and there were plenty to be seen. Leif told us that the place was
inhospitable. No grass grew and there was little to keep a man there. It was
a place of flat rocks and boulders as far as the eye could see. Inland rose
great icy mountains, desolate and forbidding. Leif said we should call the
place ' Helluland' - meaning 'land of stone.' I was glad when we found its
southern cape and slipped out into the ocean once more.

The winds grew contrary then. It was likely the shadow of Helluland that
caused it but we were constantly taken aback and made slow progress. We
tacked back and forth to make our westering while the bulk of the land lay
behind us all that day and the next. Leif thought some tide impeded our
progress. I searched the sea from dawn till dusk for hidden skerries and
more than once we had to alter course where I suspected some reef may lurk
beneath the surface. It was there we saw a great number of whales - more
than there were crew upon our knarr. They were heading south and I marked
their passage by their spoutings.

Four days after leaving Helluland behind us, we once more sighted land. This
was a different place with thick woods girdling the rolling hills. Again
Leif was loath to risk beaching the knarr and called away the after-boat.
This time I was included in the crew and we rowed ashore. It felt strange to
stand once more upon the land after so many days at sea. It seemed to me
that the land rocked with a gentle motion and I almost fell and cried out
that the earth was moving under my feet. The old hands laughed at me and
said it was always thus when first you step ashore. We spent an hour or two
gathering firewood and refilled the water butts. The land was covered with a
thick forest of spruce and pine and there was no sign of any life beyond the
seabirds. Leif named this place 'Markland' for the woods that were so
abundant and determined we would anchor there that day. He set me to fishing
in the afternoon and we feasted well that night, sitting round our fire on
the shore.

We left Markland behind us and travelled on; another day and a night and
half a day more before we sighted yet a third land. There we turned to the
south and followed the coast, looking for a place to beach our ship. I was
at my position at the prow again but had many willing helpers looking out.
This land was the fairest by far. We could make out birch and beech trees
and swathes of green grass and Leif expressed himself well pleased. Towards
the evening, we sighted a white strand and carefully approached. We spotted
a passage between an island and a cape and eased through in all vigilance.
The passage opened out into a sheltered bay and there we made our landing on
a gently shelving beach of fine sand. There was a river mouth to the north
of us and we later found this river debouched from a pleasant lake.

It was too late to do much that first night but the next day we began to
explore. The river teemed with salmon and the grass along the banks was lush
and would be fine for cattle. Later, when the tide had risen again, we moved
the knarr upriver and anchored in the lake. It was there Leif determined to
make our camp and we unloaded the ship and set to making bothies for our
shelter. That night as we dined on fresh salmon far bigger than any I had
ever seen, Leif rose and addresses us.

"It seems to me that this is a fair place. I propose to winter here and will
make this our steading. Tomorrow we will raise a hall. Are all agreed?"

We gave him our ready assent. This was a fair land and we were happy to be
there. So it was we came to raise the hall that would be our home for the
next few months. Trees there were in abundance and reeds for thatch grew
deep around the lakeshore. I took a hand axe and was given the task of
trimming the felled timber. Some of the men wanted to explore but Leif would
have us build the hall first and contain our impatience. He was a big man
and full of good humour and fair dealing so none complained. He had seen us
safe thus far and we trusted to his luck.

Over the next few days the great hall took shape and Leif named it
'Fellowship.' Once it was weatherproof, he divided the party into two. One
group would remain and work on the hall while the other went exploring.

"Stay together and do not venture so far that you can't get back by sunset,"
Leif ordered.


We took it turn and turn about, Leif also. He did his share of work on the
hall. Each night we would sit around the fire and tell of what we had seen
that day or listen to the telling. It is our custom that every man should
have a voice, even one so young as me. I told them how I had seen the tracks
of deer and bear within the forest and thought there was a place by the lake
where all came to drink. We saw conies also and other animals we couldn't
name but which showed rich pelts. Once or twice we heard wolves but they
didn't bother us and we never saw them. The more we saw, the fairer did the
land seem to us and all agreed that this was a better place for men to live
than Greenland.

Now there was among our party a man named Tyrker. He was a German who had
been taken as a slave by Erik but grew to be a member of the household and a
companion to Leif in his boyhood. This Tyrker was a small man with dark eyes
and a wizened face but was much beloved of Leif. It happened this day that
when the explorers returned to camp, Tyrker was missing and Leif was very
angry. He roused us all to go and search and we had gone out from the camp
but a little way when he appeared, waving his arms and greatly excited. He
called out to us, but in the German tongue, such was his agitation, and none
could make sense of what he was shouting. When we came up with him he was
grinning and capering like a madman and it took a while before he calmed
enough to make himself understood.

"Vines! And grapes! I found them! As good as any grape that grows in
Germany. Come, look!"

We followed the dancing little man and, sure enough, there was a little
valley full of vines, just as he said. The grapes were tart and not yet ripe
but we gorged ourselves nonetheless, for this was a rare treat and few had
ever tasted the fruit before. That night at the moot, Leif arose and spoke
to us:

"I have been wondering for some days what we should call this place. It is
now clear. I name this land 'Vinland the Good' for the vines that grow and
the soft and gentle nature of the land."

We all acclaimed this announcement many started to plan aloud for the
future: the bringing of families and cattle and the making of a settlement.
The talk went on late into the night and it was but an hour or two before
dawn when we retired at last. I was awoken early by the gripes in my
stomach - too many unripe berries - and made my way in the clear light to
take care of things. I had barely finished and cleaned myself when I saw the
skraeling.

At first I thought my eyes played me false for he was there one instant and
gone the next. Truth to tell, I was much afraid and could not be certain
that what I had so narrowly glimpsed was not a troll or dwarf. Then I saw
him again and realised it was but a half-grown boy staring at me with the
same amazement I afforded him. Once or twice on our explorations men had
reported the feeling of eyes upon them, but we had seen no trace of any
habitation nor any other sign of man. Now I was confronted with the living
evidence. The skraeling youth stared a while longer and then vanished as
silently as he appeared. I ran back and roused the company. Few believed me.
Most said I had been dreaming still, but I led them back to where the
skraeling had appeared and, sure enough, there in the wet grass were the
clear footprints. That caused the doubters to sing another saga!

Leif set a watch that day and the next and the explorers went armed, for we
didn't know what manner of men these skraelings might be, but there were no
further encounters for two days. On the third day, I was in the camp and
cutting wood for the fire when there came a hail from one of the sentries.
We ran to him and followed his pointing finger. At the edge of the clearing
stood four or five men. By their gestures we could tell they asked for leave
to approach and Snorri, who commanded in Leif's absence, beckoned them
forth. They were unlike any men I have ever seen, before or since. They were
clad in some sort of trews made from animal skin and went bare above the
waist. They moved with a solemn dignity and approached us cautiously but
displayed no great fear - more curiosity. They had flat faces and long dark
hair bound back from their faces with fillets of hide. It was a warm day and
many of us had shed our shirts. The contrast was obvious. Their skin had a
coppery hue and they were almost entirely without body hair.

One among us, a man named Ingolf but known as 'Bjorn,' meaning 'Bear,'
because he was so hairy, seemed to amaze them the most, and they pointed at
him and chattered among themselves in a tongue that none could recognise. I
looked at our men and tried to see them anew, through the eyes of these
strangers. We made an odd picture. Most of us had weathered arms and faces
but our torsos were white or even pink where the sun had begun to burn us.
All of us were bearded after one fashion or another, even me, whose cheeks
and chin now sported a red fuzz even if my chest was still innocent of manly
growth. Our visitors were all beardless with as pronounced a lack of hair
upon their cheeks as on the rest of their bodies. Even their arms seemed
naked. We stood and gawped at each other for some time.


Two among the skraelings carried rough packs and these they placed on the
earth in front of us and opened to reveal a wealth of peltries. By gesture
they intimated that they wished to trade these furs with us and Snorri sent
me back to the camp with orders to bring any spare tools. We had started a
small forge in the steading to smelt bog-iron and we had made some poor
axe-heads, more by way of experiment than of necessity. I gathered up some
half dozen of these and a badly made knife or two and returned to the
barter. The skraelings were struck with great wonder by these meagre tools.
It seemed they had no iron nor knew the working of metal at all for they
gasped and exclaimed and then bowed deeply to us before withdrawing, leaving
the bundles of furs for us. They melted back into the woods like ghosts and
were gone before we knew it.

This became the manner of our dealings with the skraelings. They would
appear when they chose bearing bundles of peltries and take from us axe
heads and cheap knives and even ingots of the rough bog-iron that was really
too soft to make a serious tool or weapon. Sometimes they would bring a
haunch of deer or a woven basket of fruit and, best of all, some kind of
large yellow grain that was a welcome addition to our larder. There was no
pattern to it. Sometimes they would come two days running and at other times
seven or more days would pass without us seeing them at all. After a while
we became convinced that, though only four or five would approach, many more
hid within the trees to observe proceedings and view the hairy strangers
from across the ocean.

It fell out this way: I had gone a little way from the steading to bathe in
the lake and wash my smallclothes. I finished my washing and spread it all
out over some low bushes to dry and whiled away the time with a little
swimming. I had though myself entirely alone and will confess, I was
somewhat playing the fool, as young men will when their elders aren't
present to correct them. So I splashed and dived and whooped with the joy of
a few moments' stolen freedom. It was then I heard a giggle. I cast about
but could see no one and decided I was imagining things, when the skraeling
girl appeared. She approached me quite gaily, without a trace of fear. She
wore some kind of shift of animal skins and her hair was dark and straight
and hung nearly to her waist. Her face was broad with high cheekbones and
large dark eyes regarded me from under finely arched brows. Naked though I
was, her gaze was fixed on my hair. It is very light in colour and, with the
bleaching of the sun, was almost white. It is not for nothing men call me
Thorfinn Fairhair. The hair on my chin and body is of a pale red hue and it
must have looked strange to this dark girl with her fine copper skin and
black hair.

I made to cover my private parts with my hands and she giggled anew. She
stood on the shore between me and my trews and laughed at me. One leg was
thrust out in front and her hand was on her hip. She looked at me with her
head to one side, like a farmer might appraise cattle and laughed aloud, not
a giggle this time, but a full-blown laugh. White hair brings also white
skin but I felt myself flush scarlet under her gaze. I mustered what dignity
I could and splashed out of the shallows, still covering my manliness with
one hand. I grabbed a shirt and dried myself as swiftly as I could before
struggling into my trews. It must have been quite a performance for the
skraeling girl was near tears with her mirth at my expense. It made me very
angry and I shouted at her but that made her laugh all the more and she put
her hands over her face and peered at me between her fingers. She looked so
comical I started to laugh as well and soon the pair of us were whooping and
cackling like magpies.

Just at that moment, a noise came from within the woods. It sounded to me
like a birdcall but she stiffened suddenly and a scared look came over her.
She fluttered her hands by way of farewell and fled back into the forest. I
was left alone to pick up my washing and amble back to the steading. I
couldn't get the picture of her out of my head. It was only as she was
leaving, fleeing for the edge of the clearing, that I really noticed her
long legs and lithe body. She moved with the grace of a deer, her flying
feet silent on the grass. It made me feel strange inside to think of it,
warm but unsettled at the same time. I found myself praying to the Gods that
I would see her again.

I didn't get my wish for almost another week. I was at the river this time
and netting some salmon. They really were huge fish, bigger even than the
codfish I caught around the skerries back home. I didn't see her arrive; she
was suddenly at my side and watched me working with an intent look on her
face. I hauled the net and spilled the silvery catch onto the bank. I took
my hand-axe and knocked each one on the head with the back of it. I'd lost a
few on an earlier trip when they had flopped and flapped their way back into
the water and wasn't taking that chance again. Once I had enough, I strung
them together in bunches of four or five with twine through the gills and
cut myself a carrying pole of birch to hang them from. The girl watched all
the while, big-eyed. On an impulse, I gave her one of the bundles of salmon.
I had plenty and they were easy enough to net if we needed more. She backed
away at first when I held the fish out to her but, eyes on me all the while,
she approached me carefully and took them, keeping as far away as she
possibly could and still be able to reach the fish.

I smiled at her then and stabbed a thumb against my chest.


"Thorfinn," I told her my name, "Thorfinn."

I gave her a quizzical look and indicated her with the same hand. She looked
confused for a second and then brightened as she realised. She pointed at me
and said "Torfi." Then she repeated it and gestured to herself. It sounded
like "Meera - ha - nhee." I repeated it to her and she shook her head.

"Meera - ha - NHEE."

I tried again and got closer to her way of saying it and she smiled. She put
out a hand then and made as if to touch my hair. I smiled back and bent my
head slightly so she could reach. The touch of her fingers sent tingles
through me. She had a wondering look on her face and muttered something I
couldn't understand or even guess at. I put my hand towards her hair but she
shrank away with a nervous look and then laughed. She stooped swiftly to
gather up the tied salmon I had given her and sped away. Once more she made
that fluttering gesture of farewell and I waved at her retreating back,
admiring the way her taut buttocks moved under her shift as she trotted off.

I don't really know why, but I never told any of my companions about my
encounters with the skraeling girl. They were something special, to be kept
to myself and pulled from memory to pick over by the firelight when other
men talked of their families or boasted of the voyages they'd made. I had no
family and this was my first summer voyage. All I had was the image of a
skraeling girl to remember. But it was enough.

The skraeling men still appeared occasionally to trade but there was little
real contact between us. Leif spoke several tongues, even the language of
the Lapps, who most closely resembled the skraelings with their broad faces
and high cheekbones, but he wasn't understood and there was nothing even
remotely familiar or recognisable in the sounds they made. Still, the
language of barter is universal and we made them understand that we
particularly wished for the large yellow grain, our store of oats being long
since exhausted. For their part, they most coveted our long knives, but Leif
gave it out that none should be given to the skraelings and would only offer
axe-heads or belt knives. They accepted this with difficulty. We couldn't
explain that the long knife is both our tool and our main weapon. The
bog-iron was too poor a stuff to make a good long blade and most weren't
rich enough to own a sword. Only Leif and Snorri owned swords with runes
carved deep into the blades. Leif's sword was called 'Widow-maker' when
first he had it but, when he had taken the White Christ, he changed its name
to 'Wise Judgement.' Snorri's was an older piece and bore the name
'Leg-Biter,' a good name for a Viking's sword, and Snorri was one of the old
band of summer pirates.

Greenland is not a rich place so most of the men went a-viking in the
season. They would descend on Orkney or the coast of Hibernia and take
cattle and slaves and such gold or silver as they might find. The priests of
the White Christ housed many treasures and were a favourite target for some
but, as more and more of the men abandoned the old Gods and became
Christian, so fewer were prepared to raid the churches and monasteries. I
still followed Odin in those days, having no family to lead me elsewhere,
though, in later life, I, too, became a convert to the White Christ. All
that lay ahead of me then and I dreamt myself of becoming a Viking and
amassing my fortune through the summer voyages. It is a young man's dream,
of course, but it sparkles like gold when the sap is rising and you know no
better.

The next time I saw Meera - ha - nhee was a couple of days after the
incident with the salmon. This time, I know, she sought me out. I was sent
to gather more of the grapes that were ripe by then and she appeared at my
side as though she had fallen from the heavens, so silent was her coming.
She greeted me solemnly.

"Torfi."

"Meera - ha - NHEE."

She smiled and clapped her hands, either because I had remembered or because
I said it right, I had no way of telling. She began to talk to me then. I
couldn't make out a word of it, of course, but I pretended in my head that
she was telling me the things I wanted her to say. Most likely she was
saying that the salmon had been delicious and she'd like some more the next
time I went fishing. My translation was more along the lines of her admiring
my shoulders and my broad, manly chest. I will never know which version was
closer, but I have my suspicions that mine was wide of the mark!

How do you woo a maid when you cannot talk to her and tell her those sweet
lies that women love to hear? Not possible, you say? Untrue, it's possible,
right enough, but devilish difficult. What was more, I had no experience of
women to know how better to further my cause. None of the well-bred maids of
Heriulfsness or Brattahlid would look twice at a landless fisher-boy. My
fortunes had sunk with my father's drakkr and both lay deep and lost as
could be. So, while I thought myself the man, I was, in truth, a callow
youth, and clay under any young female fingers. It started as a game but I
was hooked. I was certain that she knew and played along. I spent my idle
hours carving a model of our ship. I even made a sail out of a scrap of
cloth. I produced this offering now from out of my shirt and placed it her
hands. She stared at in wonder. I don't think the skraelings set much store
by carving, but I was skilled enough and it was a very recognisable likeness
of the knarr that lay at anchor on the lake.

I made to take a kiss of her in payment but she jumped away, divining my
intention. She touched her hand to my lips and shook her head in denial. I
grinned at her and nodded and she leapt away, laughing. There was something
of the wild about her, that same quality you see in a young wolf. I wanted
her badly and this, she had guessed. Even so, she sought my company and
walked easy beside me, even if a little apart. So it was for the remainder
of that summer. We learned a little of each other's language. In all truth,
she learned better and faster than I did. I was still saying simple words
like 'tree' and 'river' in the skraeling tongue when she was starting to put
together phrases in ours. But it is one thing to point at an object and
repeat its name and quite another to say the words that are in your heart.
This latter art I never mastered. As to what was in her heart, I couldn't
guess.

As the days shortened and the nights drew in, a change came over her. I got
the feeling that she was telling me she was going away. I pointed to the
south and asked her:

"You go?"

She nodded vigorously.

"People go there." She held up the fingers of one hand. "This many times the
new moon. You come?"

I shook my head. " We stay lake," I told her. She looked a little sad and
sighed.

So that was the way of it. We didn't use words. I reached her for to try a
kiss and, this time, she came, all uncomplaining, and matched her lips to
mine. I cannot say what she intended but I told her with my kiss that spring
would be a long time coming. I dare to think she felt the same.

I was kept busy over the next week or so. The salmon were few in number now
and mostly I took the after-boat down river to the sea and fished the waters
round the cape for pollack and bloghan and whatever else I might find. I
thought the codfish would come back as winter approached but, in case they
didn't, we were laying up a stock of smoked and salted fish against the cold
weather. We had smoked deer meat as well and had a good supply of the
skraeling corn besides a variety of grapes and sweet berries so none would
go hungry. Leif was cautious though and reminded us that we did not know how
severe the winter might be in this land. When I was next free to take some
time for myself, the skraelings had gone. I went to all the places that I
was wont to meet Meera - ha - nhee but there was never a sign of her.

As matters turned the winter was mild with few hard frosts and little snow
compared with Greenland. The grass, we noted, seemed to stay lush all year
and the farmers among us were greatly encouraged, saying there would be
little need for winter fodder for cattle in Vinland. The days and nights
were of more equal length than we were used to for the season and, on the
shortest day of the year, the sun was up between eykarstad and dagmalastad!
This was indeed a fair land. We spent the winter cutting timber for the
cargo home, stripping the bark and setting it to dry in stacks along the
lakeshore. There were codfish aplenty to be caught and in the early spring,
the river ran with sweet brown trout. Truly, this was Vinland the Good and
the land provided everything a man might need for an ordered life; timber
for building, fish and game, fruits and berries and lush pastureland for
kine. Yet I was not content.

We passed the winter nights in the smoky great hall. Rush lights were lit
and the men would take into turns to entertain with songs and sagas and
stories. Sometimes, a man would remark on how we had never seen any
skraeling villages and then another would pipe up and say we had seen no
women either. That would usually give the conversation a more ribald turn as
the boasting would start. Leif was not fond of such talk and would draw a
little apart but he did not forbid it. Some of the tales were fantastical;
of women in Russia who grew three teats and of a tribe on the Black Sea
where the women's private parts ran east to west, not north to south, as,
they said, is proper.

Some of the tales, I knew, were meant to gull me, but I held my peace and
kept my own counsel until they grew tired of the sport. It was a relief to
us all when the warmer weather returned. Men aren't meant to be so long in
their own company, unless it is for warfare. Harsh words were spoken and
more than one received a bloody nose from another's fist before the spring
came again. It owed much to Leif that nothing worse happened. He swore he
would kill the first to draw a knife in a quarrel and none doubted but he
would do so. It was Leif who held the band together with the force of his
will and the strength of his hold was never seriously tested. We still
trusted his luck. We lost but one man all winter and that was hairy Bjorn.
He had it in his mind to search for wind-berries and strayed too far. We did
not find him for three days. He had fallen and broken a leg. The wild
beasts, whether wolves or bears I cannot say, had done for him then. We
buried him in the way of the White Christ, for he was a follower, and Leif
caused a stone cross to be carved and marked the runes himself - he was an
educated man.

When the fifth new moon had waxed and waned since the skraelings departed
southwards, I went again in my free hours to seek for Meera - ha - nhee.
However, it was she found me as I was cutting reeds in the marshes. Leif had
ordered us to repair the great hall after the winter and we needed fresh
thatch here and there where the storms had damaged it. She was suddenly
beside me. My hearing is as sharp as any man's but I did not catch so much
as a footfall of her coming. We were shy with each other at first and I had
lost much of the skraeling tongue that I had learned. Not so her. She must
have practiced each day through the winter and her voice, though soft, was
confident.

"Torfi!"

"Meera - ha - nhee"

" I come back. Stay this place for this many times new moon."

She held up one hand and two fingers of the other.

"Good," I said. "Thorfinn happy Meera - ha - nhee will stay."

"Happy, Torfi? What happy?"

I couldn't explain so I whooped and did a little dance for her. She grinned
so broadly her eyes almost disappeared in the creases of her face.

"Ah, happy! Meera - ha - nhee happy Torfi happy."

Then she kissed me, a gentle brush of her lips against my cheeks. I blushed
scarlet and grinned stupidly at her. She watched me working for a while and
sang a little song, the only words I recognised were 'birch tree.' I bound
up a great bundle of reeds and headed back to the steading. I was covered in
mud and sweat and I pointed further along the lakeshore.

"Go there! Torfi swim."

She nodded her understanding and melted into the woods as I lugged my burden
back to the builders. I muttered to the men that I was off to get cleaned up
and one look at my spattered face and rat's-tail hair was enough for them to
ask no questions. I ran from the camp as fast as I could. There was no sign
of her when I reached my swimming spot. I had come to expect this. She
always watched a while before venturing into the open. I stripped off my
shirt and trews and plunged into the water. It was cold and made me gasp but
I soon got used to it and set to washing my clothes. I caught a flash of
movement from the corner of my eye and looked up in time to see a pair of
long, brown legs disappearing into the water. She dived almost without a
splash. I searched the lake, waiting for her to break surface but could see
no sign.

Then something grabbed my ankle and pulled me over and I fell backwards into
the water leaving my washing floating on the surface. I came up spluttering
with laughter to see her watching me with huge eyes. I ducked under the
water and slicked back my hair, for it had fallen over my face. This time I
saw her properly and realised she was naked under the water. Only her head
and shoulders showed but the lake was clear and I could see her teats quite
clearly. She caught the direction of my eyes and laughed at me.

"Torfi happy?"

"Thorfinn happy, happy, happy!"


She slowly rose and stood. The water came up to her waist. I was
thunderstruck. Her teats were high and rounded, the tips prominent from the
cold water. I rubbed my eyes in disbelief. She was beautiful in the way that
a young deer is beautiful. You know it has these few scant moments in time
before age and decay, that is the lot of all upon the Earth, will claim this
beauty for its own. But then, in the sunlit Vinland morning, such things
were far off and I could only stare in wonder at the flawless symmetry of
her. I was paralysed. I couldn't lift an arm nor take a step. It was left to
her to close the space between us. She slid back under the water and.
vanished! I searched the clear lake for her but could see no trace. Then I
heard her laughter from the bank behind me. She stood for a moment in all
her naked glory and then, slipping the shift back over her head in one easy
motion, she disappeared back into the trees. I slumped to my knees in the
water, thinking that my heart would burst, so full it was.

I didn't see her for the next couple of days. Leif drove us now. He wanted
to be ready to sail as soon as summer was set fair. We rowed the knarr back
down river and beached on the flood tide. We scrubbed and caulked and
scoured the hull, lighting smudge fires in the bilges to kill off any
insects that had taken root there. So it was the third evening after the
incident at the lake that next I saw her. I had taken the after-boat back up
to the lake with a couple of my fellows. The evening was clear and still and
I thought I would try my luck fishing for some of the lake trout I could see
rising. I picked up my pole from the steading and headed back to the shore.
There was a low promontory on the far side of the lake that looked as though
it would give me a good fishing place and I made my way round the water's
edge until I could reach it.

She stepped from the woods straight into my path and greeted me with a
smile. I pointed out the spot where I was heading and she shrugged and fell
in beside me, catching my free hand in one of her own and chattering away in
skraeling so fast I thought she couldn't possibly have drawn breath. We got
to the spot I had selected and I grubbed up a few fat, brown worms for bait,
charged my hook and flicked it into the lake. I had good sport for a while
and landed a good hand of plump trout. All the while Meera - ha - nhee
watched and sang her little song about birch trees. At last the trout moved
off out of my reach and she sat beside me.

"Torfi swim?"

"Why not? Let's swim."

I stripped off my clothes and plunged into the lake. I turned to look for
her but she wasn't there. She sat on the bank and watched me, still in her
shift. I called to her:

"Meera - ha - nhee swim?"

She shook her head but rose to her feet and stripped off her shift. She
beckoned me from the water. I moved like a man in a dream towards to her.
Blood pounded in my ears and my heart felt so big within my chest that I
swear I was near to choking on it. She was utterly still, head erect. The
sun gleamed in the raven's wing hair and dusted her body with a rich, red
glow. I could hardly breathe. I floundered from the shallows and came up
beside her. I kissed her then and drew her tight against me. She shivered
from the feel of my cold skin on hers. The tips of her teats grew hard
against me and all I knew was the feeling of great joy that surged through
me like a river in its springtime spate. She drew me down onto the grass. I
raised myself on one elbow to stare at her.

I moved my fingers over her body. Here was hard muscle, there a yielding
softness. Her eyes were closed and there was a soft humming sound in her
throat. I could see a pulse beating there and leant down to kiss it. She
gave a small sigh as my lips roamed over her face and neck and her arms came
up to embrace me. The world slowed for me. Each moment was an hour. Her
fingers traced the muscles of my arms and the feeling seemed to travel down
my spine. I shuddered with the intensity of it. She pulled my head down to
her teat and I kissed her there. I was so close to heaven I could hear the
Valkyrie, or maybe it was the singing of my blood.

It was then she drew me into her. I could tell I was the first. She held me
fast and rocked a little and hissed once. I started to frame a question but
her lips silenced me and she clung to me, lifting me bodily with the
strength of her hips and urging me onwards. My head was spinning but my body
took over. We danced the oldest dance that men and women do. I was not
master of myself and, truth to say, love's madness had seized us both. We
rolled and clung and kissed and cried out together. I felt the sweetness
rising and knew I was near. All was heat and slick softness. I cried out as
I spent within her, slamming into her again and again while she grasped me
round the neck, her eyes wide now, but not seeing. I held fast to her and
she crooned, a low, loving note.

We slept a little after, at least I did. The moon was rising when I woke and
I felt the chill of the night air. I jumped up and dressed quickly while
Meera - ha - nhee slipped into the lake and washed. I marked the smear of
blood upon her thigh and felt much the man. She dressed as easily as before
and kissed me thrice before departing. This time she moved slowly and I saw
her go. I made my way back slowly to the steading. I was halfway back before
I realised I had forgotten my fishing pole and the evening's catch. When I
retraced my steps, only the pole was there.

The following day was, perhaps, the strangest of all my life. We were all
working on the knarr with only one man left as guard upon the steading.
Towards mid-morning a crowd of skraelings emerged of the woods and onto the
beach. They stopped some twenty paces from the knarr and one stepped forth.
He was a tall man and powerfully built for their kind. He was no match for
Leif or Snorri, though, and even I over-topped in height, for I had grown a
hand's width over the winter. This man had a proud look and was accoutred
very strangely. He wore a bearskin about his shoulders with the bear's maw
over his head. he hailed us then in the skraeling tongue and, with a sinking
feeling, I recognised the name of Meera - ha - nhee. I hurriedly explained
to Leif all that had transpired between us. He gave me a look that melted my
sinews. The skraeling chief, for such I took him to be, hailed again and
pointed directly at me. I looked to Leif but he just shrugged.

I summoned all my courage and walked forward to meet the skraeling. He
turned and called again, imperiously. Meera - ha - nhee crept forward, her
face was a mask of fear and she would not look me in the eye. The chief
seized her by the hand and then grasped one of mine and held them fast
together. He glared at me and rolled his eyes horribly. Another skraeling
approached and bound our hands together. The Chief then pronounced some sort
of sing song chant and then was much wailing from the other skraelings. Then
he threw a great bundle of peltries at my feet and looked at me expectantly.
It was clear I was expected to return a gift. I had nothing with me but my
long knife and sealskin roll of iron fishhooks. I solemnly laid these at his
feet. There was a gleam in his eye as he saw the long knife and he swooped
upon it, pulling from the scabbard and brandishing over his head and giving
an ululating cry. Meera - ha - nhee spoke in a small voice.

"Skraeling happy, happy, happy. Torfi happy?"

"Thorfinn happy, happy, happy, " I agreed and she relayed to this chief who
beamed at me, showing blackened teeth.

The knarr's crew were muttering behind me and I heard Leif's voice raised in
sardonic amusement.

 "It appears, my friends, that young Thorfinn Fairhair has found himself a
bride! Now that, boys, is what I call initiative. Not one among you ever saw
a skraeling woman until this day yet Thorfinn, here, has not only seen one,
he's bedded and wedded her!"

The men gave a great shout and this was answered by that weird ululation
from the skraelings. Meera - ha - nhee pointed at the chief and then at
skraeling woman who had crept out to stand beside him. She made a mime of
two adults and one child and pointed at the skraelings and then at her self.
She struggled for a moment and then asked me for the words.

"Father," I pointed at the chief.

"Fa -ther," she repeated.

I pointed at the woman. "Mother," I said. Meera - ha - nhee repeated my word
again. She pointed at each of them in turn.

"Father Meera - ha - nhee, mother Meera - ha - nhee. Torfi father?"

I shook my head and pointed first at the sky and then the earth.

"Thorfinn's father and mother gone, " I told her.

She looked at me in surprise then pointed at Leif.

"Torfi father?"


I shook my head.

"Leif is our captain. He commands here. All of us." I made an encircling
gesture to take in the knarr and its crew and pointed at Leif. I bowed in
his direction and she understood.

"Captain," I said again, "Chief."

I pointed at her father and said, "Skraeling captain?"

She nodded vigorously. "Captain," she agreed. Then she smiled at me.

"Torfi people, skraeling people come. Go there!"

She pointed and I followed her gesture. A little way down the beach, more
skraelings had appeared and were making a fire. I turned to Leif and called:

"Looks like we're invited to a wedding breakfast."

This raised another cheer and the men downed their tools and joined in the
procession along the beach. Now we saw the skraelings for the first time in
family groups. There were women and children as well as numerous men. The
men alone outnumbered us by two to one. Here and there we saw some with the
bog-iron knives but most had tools of stone or antler. Women ground corn in
a great wooden quern and put meat to roast upon the fire. I could not but
smile when I also saw a full hand of plump brown trout set to cook on sticks
at the edge of the flames.

They gave us the juice of some fruit to drink and there was also fresh
water. I must have been the first Norseman in the history of our kind to be
married sober, for they had no knowledge of fermenting or brewing, and we
had long since drunk our store of ale. Once the meal was over the skraelings
packed away their tools and slipped away as silently as they had arrived
until only Meera - ha - nhee was left, sitting beside me. Leif moved in our
direction and I made to rise but he waved me back.

"Does she understand that we'll be leaving soon, Thorfinn?"

I shrugged and turned to her.

"Meera - ha - nhee, Thorfinn people go one new moon."

"Torfi go?"

"Aye, Thorfinn go."

I hadn't thought of it until that moment. I hadn't thought of leaving her at
all. I turned to Leif.

"Can't she come with us?"

He gave me a sharp look and shook his head.

"Think, boy! One young girl on a ship of men who have been without women's
company for the best part of a year? That's a deal of trouble, lad, and I'm
not fool enough to take the risk. There's more than one, I think, would act
the ni-thing and break the vow of comradeship. You'd wind up over the side
with your throat cut and she'd be passed around for a plaything. You have my
leave to stay here, if you so wish, but I cannot, dare not, take the girl."

He was right, of course. I'd already seen the speculative and covetous glanc
es cast in our direction. But I couldn't think straight, not right then. I
had no one waiting my return, it was true, but then again, I was a Norseman
and no skraeling. I didn't know how they lived and from the little I could
judge, it was a hard life. Maybe no harder than our rough sea-faring ways
but strange, different, alien. My heart sank inside me as I knew I could not
stay alone, even with Meera - ha - nhee.


She had been watching us all the while, her eyes flitting from my face to
Leif's and back again. I turned to her and gave a tight smile.

"Thorfinn people go, Meera - ha - nhee. Thorfinn go. Meera - ha - nhee stay.
Skraeling people stay."

She nodded. Her face collapsed with sorrow and something else. Anger?
Perhaps, she could be hard to read when she chose. When she next looked back
her face was blank.

"Meera - ha - nhee go skraeling people. Torfi go Torfi people."

I nodded and she mirrored my gesture. She reached forward then and plucked
Leif's knife from his belt. Before we could stop her she cut through the
thong that still loosely joined our wrists and flung the knife to sand with
a sharp, wounded cry.

"Meera - ha - nhee go!"

And she did, vanishing swiftly from sight among the trees. That was the last
I saw of her. I wish I could have explained but I had not the words. Even
had she spoken Norse as good as Leif or me, I still don't think I could have
told her fully all that was in my heart. I felt sick, like a man who's been
kicked in the guts. Leif laid a hand on my shoulder and patted me absently.
I looked at him with brimming eyes but he could find no comfort for me. We
both knew he was right. At length he said heavily:

"Well, Thorfinn Fairhair, there's not many men who can say they were married
and divorced in a single afternoon. You have chosen aright, for what it's
worth, and one thing I will tell you: you'll remember this day as long as
you live."

He was right. It remains as sharp and clear in the memory as yesterday.

Eleven days later we sailed on the high tide. We crawled seawards under oars
until we weathered the cape and the island and had good enough wind to hoist
the sail. It was a grey, sullen day with a heavy overcast and it wondrously
matched my mood. I stood alone at the prow to watch for skerries and felt
curious eyes upon me. None, so far, had asked me about the girl or how the
sudden wedding had come to pass. Even I could only guess but I believe
Meera - ha - nhee had told her mother or father all that happened by the
lake and they came to us to see her not dishonoured. I hope, by our
marriage, she avoided that fate. Her father had seemed well satisfied with
the bride-price. A long knife and a handful of fishhooks seems little
enough, I warrant you. I felt I got the best of the bargain. I had a bundle
of rich furs that would fetch the price of six long knives plus I had my
share of the cargo of timber and peltries. I wouldn't be rich but it was a
very fair start for a young fisher-boy with nothing to his name.

The voyage back was easy but the time weighed heavy with me. We saw nothing
of interest, just endless days of sea and sky and the wind blew
contrary-wise for much of the trip so we had to tack and beat back and forth
against the breeze to make our easting. One final incident of note came when
we were not more than half a day from Heriulfsness. I happened to look to
starboard and saw a ship, or at least part of one, fast upon a great skerry.
I called to Leif, who had just taken the styri.

"Wreck, ho! I think there are still men aboard her."

We altered course  towards the skerry and soon enough we could make out that
it was indeed a knarr like our own run hard upon the rocks. Her bedraggled
crew had seen us now and we heard a faint cheer as we bore down on them. I
knew this place well for I had fished it many times and called to Leif to
tack and come up on the other side where the water was deep. This we did and
hove to, barely an oar's length from the wreck. Leif called out for their
captain and he answered. By a strange chance, his name was Thori and he was
a cousin to Leif's father. We took fifteen souls from that wreck and
thereafter Leif was known ever as Leif the Lucky, for he came home with more
crew than had sailed with him and only one man lost in the whole year.

In the years that followed, more sailed to Vinland the Good. It saddened me
to learn that they had fought with the skraelings, who never dealt with us
other than fairly. If there came bad blood between us, I have no doubt that
it was the Norsemen who erred the most. Many asked me to sail back with
them, not least Leif's own brother, Thorvald, but neither Leif nor I
returned to Vinland more. The following year I went trading to Norway and
there I met and married my Ingveld. We returned to Greenland together and I
bought a steading not far from the sea at Eriksfirth. I never went a-viking
but remained a trader and fisherman all my days to this. Now I own three
knarrs and each is skippered by one of my sons. Together we have roamed far
and wide, beyond the lands of the Franks to Africa and through the Baltic
Sea to Muscovy and Russia.



Still, with everything I have seen and done these many years, there is
nothing that quite compares with my first voyage, my first woman and my
first love.



The End

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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