The United States of Vinland: The Landing (The Markland Trilogy) (3 page)

Gudrid’s
heart fluttered at the sound.

Halla
sighed with relief.

From
behind them, to their left, perhaps only twenty paces away, another voice
called out, “You are not alone; we are here.” It was Ballr.

His
voice was followed by others from the hillside – the brothers Steinarr and
Samr.

“What
should we do?” Gudrid called out.

Eskil
answered, “Nothing sudden, let us force it to turn.”

Steinarr
said, “I have no axe or blade, as the sea has taken them, but I have plenty of
stones.” And, with that, a rock the size of a fist landed between the women and
the beast, causing all three to start.

The
animal took a step back, its voice rumbling again.

Another
stone landed in front of it, followed by one that hit it in the side, and
finally one that smacked it squarely on its head.

The
great wolf whined as it fell back, skipping to the side. The beast moved away
from the bodies to go behind some brush, trying to shelter its too-large form.
With a throaty growl, it raised its head and looked for a moment as if it would
stand its ground, but another hail of stones came at it, one again hitting it
on the head.

The
beast yelped, and then turned and ran.

Ballr
arrived beside the women, followed by Eskil, as well as Steinarr and Samr. The
men let fly with another round of stones as the beast disappeared into the
gloom down the beach.

Steinarr
growled after it, “Markland is ours, not yours, ragged beast!”

Lightning
flashed, and a heartbeat later, a loud clap of thunder hammered the air, as if
punctuating the end of the encounter.

Eskil
laughed. “A land that is indeed ours, given to us by the gods themselves; first
Odin this afternoon, and now Thor, to protect us by calling us together in a
moment of need.”

Gudrid
smiled. “Godsland it is, and that is what you called it earlier.”

Eskil
nodded. “Godsland, indeed.”

Halla
turned back to their camp, the tent aglow because of the fire, reminding her of
their meal. “Oh, the fish!” She hurried to check on their food.

Gudrid
chuckled and followed.

Eskil
turned to the other men. “Drifa and Manni will draw back the beast. We need to
tend to them now.”

Steinarr
offered, “We can bury them with stone. They need a cairn.”

Ballr
gave a nod. “You are right that it cannot wait, although it is a shame we lack
enough timber to build a pyre. I think that is what they would have preferred.”

Eskil
said, “Anything, over flame or under rock, would be better than being feasted
upon by that ragged beast.”

The
men agreed.

Eskil
announced, “We have plenty of rocks, so a cairn is what we will build to mark
their passing.”

Torrador
and Erik soon returned to join in the toil.

As
they worked, gathering loose stones to pile atop the two bodies, Ballr said,
“This is no burning ship, nor blazing pyre, but still fitting in its own way,
as they shall live on in this new land by joining the soil.”

Eskil
nodded. “Those are fine words. Let us hope their burial brings their spirits
peace.”

The
others agreed.

Before
long, it was done.

The
men returned to the tent and a meal of fish, which they hungrily devoured.
Divided eight ways the food did not stretch far, but it was enough.

After
they ate, Steinarr shook out a cloth he had rolled up, its importance clear
only when it was unfurled and free. He stood there proudly, letting the
firelight show its truth – a black raven, on a blue field – the banner salvaged
from their wreck. He announced, “The raven flies over Godsland, having beaten
off the wolf!”

A
cheer rang around them.

Erik
the Dane laughed and offered, “We need something to drink!”

The
others murmured in agreement.

Steinarr
nodded and offered the banner to Eskil.

Sharing
a smile, with Gudrid beside him, Eskil stood and took the banner. “A drink
would be good, but that will have to wait for another day. For now, let us
celebrate that we sailed under the raven, the symbol of Odin, who delivered us
here. We came looking for a new home, one free from the influence of the White
Christ and rising kings, and we have found it. Together, we will build a great
land to honour him!”

They
called out their agreement.

Exploration
and discovery, under cool and mostly dry skies, filled the next few days. In
that time, it seemed the wolf was unwilling to face them again, although they
often found fresh signs of its passing. Those days also brought sorrowful
moments often paired with hope: The bodies of three more of their crew were
found, along with the half-eaten remains of some of their livestock; three
drowned and savaged sheep. They also happened upon more salvage, including a
chest holding a small iron axe – and that, at least, was welcome.

Much
of the debris from their ship was close to the site of their beaching, but the
farther west they ranged from the runestone, the better the land. With every
step they took from the open sea, the more the low, rock-studded hills, along
the windswept and stony coast gained shelter from the nearby islands edging a
broad channel that seemed to funnel them towards the fjord’s mouth.

Away
from the beach, areas of the hills often revealed sheltered gullies with
pastures, streams and even struggling copses of trees. They were unlike the
steeper, western shores, where the fjord cut into Markland’s rugged interior.
But they were close, and more welcoming than the harsh land about the
runestone.

They
also noticed how the shore curved around, beginning to head north. Eventually,
when another channel ran into the one beside them, they realised they were on a
large, sea battered island at the fjord’s mouth. The slopes and vales across
the water were tighter and deeper, with occasional woodland-cover. It looked to
be not only birch and willow, but also taller timbers such as pine and larch.
To see this range of terrain and timber was a comfort, even if it was
unreachable – at least for now.

The
island promised to be a harsh place. Thin soils hid under the turf, but
improved in the gullies, similar to those inland along the fjord. The summer
weather was cool, as was the water, but they had expected Greenland and the
adjacent new lands to be as such. The long, white winter would be their real
challenge. Nonetheless, the vales, woods and pastures they saw about them had
potential.

They
spent their second night at a more sheltered campsite featuring deep stone
overhangs, along one side of a gully, as well as several small caves. Here they
feasted on the meat from the sheep carcasses they had recovered, and smoked
what they could of the rest.

Eskil
spoke as they sat around a noisy fire fed by driftwood and timber gathered from
a nearby copse. “It looks as if we have found all we are going to, in the way
of survivors and salvage, though we must keep watch for whatever else may come.
Yet, a question remains. Should we stay on this island or take to the mainland
that from a distance looks promising, with better pastures and thicker woods?
If any of you have concerns on this matter, now is the time to voice them.”

No
one immediately answered since they were busy with their mutton. In truth,
Eskil had planned it that way; he wanted his people to consider their words
carefully.

Halla
spoke first, not surprising anyone, as she had again worked to cook and serve,
and was still cutting her own portion of meat with one of their few blades.
“What of the wolf? If we are on the island, then so is the beast.”

Eskil
nodded as others murmured their own concerns. After swallowing a mouthful of
meat, he said, “The wolf is a danger, I agree. The huge beast looked crazed and
half starved. Perhaps it crossed ice to the island during the winter and became
stranded at the thaw. Regardless, we will need better weapons, as one wood axe,
a few knives and a generous supply of stones may work against the wolf when we
are together, but not if any of us are caught out alone. We will have to watch
for signs of it, to see if we can find its lair. As for our meagre arms, we
need to improve them, since they will not do against the skraelings.”

“Skraelings?”
Torrador asked with a frown.

“They
may not be on the island, but we know they are in Greenland and also most
certainly in Vinland. Some must be nearby, even if they are in the depths of
the fjords. Eventually we will run into them.”

Halla
finally sat, with her own serving of meat, but instead of eating, she asked,
“How would we stand against them?”

“We
are too few to wage any meaningful war with them, regardless of how many of
them Markland hides. For now, we must be armed and ready as best we can, and
that means creating a home we can defend.”

Gudrid
spoke up. “Staying on the island may keep them at bay.”

Eskil
smiled at her with pride, for she was right. “For a while, at least.”

“Should
we work to build a boat and sail for Greenland,” Erik asked, “thus seeking the
company of our own kind?”

“They
are giving themselves to the White Christ. They are no longer our kind!”
Torrador snapped, drawing sharp nods of agreement.

Eskil
agreed. “That is reason enough to stay here, on the land Odin chose for us.”

Steinarr
sat beside his younger brother, Samr, both men nodding as they ate. The older
man swallowed some mutton before saying, “We will need to build a boat in any
case – and eventually a ship.”

Gudrid
answered him, “Yes, we have the skills, but the tools are gone, stolen away by
the sea. We could still build a ship, but such a thing would take more time
than we can give it before winter settles in.”

Many
of them considered her words before turning to Eskil, who gave a nod. “While we
lack the tools to easily make a ship capable of crossing to Greenland or back
to Iceland, we will be able to create them in time. We first need a boat for
the local waterways. And we need to consider the winter, for it will be long
and harsh.”

Steinarr
shrugged. “Winter will be hard, but it is almost two full seasons away.”

Gudrid
grimaced. “If we had Manni or Leif here with their tools and skills, we might
finish a ship over summer, but not by ourselves. It will take longer. At the
same time, we will need to be hunting and gathering food, as there is no farm
yard here to harvest.”

Eskil
nodded, pleased with how sound a thought it was. “Yes, we must consider our
other needs as well.”

“We
need iron,” Steinarr grumbled. “A few knives and a poor wood axe will win us no
skraeling war.”

Erik
the Dane agreed. “We will not find iron on this island. In order to make the
tools and weapons needed to defend ourselves, we will need to go to the
mainland and find a bog that will provide the necessary metal for smelting.”
Murmurs of agreement rose from the group.

Eskil
announced, “So, Godsland is our home for now.”

Many
about the fire nodded.

Gudrid
said, “You men have spoken of our need for weapons, and for that I should not
be surprised. But we also need to build up a store of foods and better shelter.
We arrived here in early summer, so none of us know what the winter will be
like; it would be wise to plan for it to be long and hard, perhaps worse than
in Iceland. It will be a hungry and barren time. If we do not work on gathering
stores now, we will starve before we face any skraelings, despite how many
weapons we have.”

Halla
called out her agreement around a mouthful of mutton.

Eskil
nodded at his wife, for she raised a good point; it would only be prudent to
assume winter would come on strong. “We will winter on the island, in the most
sheltered site we can find. We will also have to hunt down the wolf if it stays
near, lest it come upon us when we are at our weakest, in the depths of the
snow and ice.”

He
received a chorus of agreement.

“While
we prepare for winter, we will also work to build a hall able to handle the
worst the gods can throw at us, and one defendable against a great wolf or
skraeling attack. At the same time, we will begin looking for food to preserve,
whether it be fish for drying or nuts, roots and grains.”

Steinarr
asked, “That might do for winter, but what of the iron we will need if we live
to see spring?”

Eskil
smiled, beginning to warm to the plans brewing in his mind. “We will have to go
to the mainland and discover what it can offer. For that, we need to build a
small boat, and once completed, no one crossing the water will go
unaccompanied. We also need to locate a bog for the smelting of iron for the making
of blades and tools.”

They
all agreed, and then their gathering fell silent.

After
a pause, Torrador asked, “And what of those still missing? Are they all dead?”

Eskil
dipped his head a little before answering, “The sea has taken them. For
whatever reason, the gods have seen fit to give only those gathered here this
second chance. While we should mourn their loss and honour them for having the
courage to make the crossing, we must also respect the opportunity given to us.
We will labour to make ourselves safe and to survive the coming winter, but
during the depths of that long season, we must also plan for spring and perhaps
a move from Godsland, to a better site if one is found on the mainland.”

Torrador
was downcast at Eskil’s words, his gaze going to the fire and thoughts of his
missing wife.

Seeing
this, Gudrid cleared her throat and said, “We do not know the plans of Asgard,
as surely as we cannot say for certain our friends and fellow crew are dead,
though it is likely to be true. What we can say is that we need to survive, to
build and grow, to create something here to not only honour our gods, but also
ourselves, and our lost loved ones.”

Torrador
raised his gaze to meet Gudrid’s sympathetic eyes, a smile of gratitude finding
his lips. He was not alone, for all sitting around the fire had lost friends,
and many of the men lost their wives.

Eskil
let Gudrid’s words sink in before he added, “Let us give thanks to our gods,
all of them, but particularly Odin and Thor, for they have both had a strong hand
in giving us this chance at life in this new world. Let us also give thanks to
each other, that we are here, and remember those who are missing from our
fireside.”

Together
they called their thanks into the night, not toasting it with drink, but celebrating
with juicy mutton.

––––––––

T
he
next days passed as they finished checking over the island for any better sites
for their winter home. They also gathered wood for the making of spears and
fuelling the cooking fires. At the same time, discussions ran amongst the men
on how best to create a small boat that could take them across the chilly
waters of the sound. After Manni’s mortal wounding, none were in a hurry to
chance the dark waters without a vessel.

While
all this went on, they watched for the giant wolf and its lair. The island may
not have been huge, but it was large enough that they were not able to check
every gully or grove. But they did find more signs of it, including numerous
seal bones around shallow caves on the island’s rugged northern coast.

Halla
and Gudrid, meanwhile, planned what they needed for winter, and Ballr and Erik
worked on what was left of the larger timbers from the shipwreck, preparing
them for reuse. Soon, they decided to winter where they were because they found
no better site. So Eskil, Torrador, Steinarr and Samr began cutting turf to
build a wall that would enclose the stone overhang and small caves of the gully
at their current campsite.

Everyone
worked on the hall.

As
the turf walls rose, built like so many halls in Iceland and Greenland,
differences in the building emerged.

A
single door would open at one end, into the main hall, and a long hall, similar
to those they had left behind in Iceland, would be centred around a warming
fire pit.

Eskil
pushed for the biggest difference: to make the most of the natural overhang
since it was strong and would save them much labour and time. Enclosing the
space, but including the caves at its back, gave them a large main hall, with a
chamber stepping up, and the two smaller caves that ran off that and could be
used for stores.

Amidst
such toil came a great discovery by way of Samr and Torrador:

Back
near the runestone, while constructing a raft using their preciously salvaged
rope and larger pieces of seasoned timber, they had discovered hoof prints.

They
were both convinced the prints belonged to sheep.

Excited,
the two men followed the meandering trail until they also found fresh
droppings.

Had
some sheep survived the shipwreck?

Forgetting
their raft, they immediately switched to tracking the animals, knowing life
might be much easier for their people if they could count on such things as
sheep’s milkand wool – and perhaps, one day, another feast of fresh
mutton.

With
little caution, the two men hastily followed the trail.

Samr
called out to Torrador, “Come! I can hear her bleating from here!”

It
was a joke of course, for the only sound about them, so often the case on
Godsland, was the wail of the wind and rhythm of the sea’s swell.

Torrador
answered, “And what if it is not only one sheep, but two!”

They
followed the tracks, meandering through the pastures along the shoreline,
before climbing a hillside, moving away from the runestone but back towards the
new camp about half a morning’s walk away.

The
path put them amongst the hills behind the eastern coast of the island, a place
not as rugged as its northern shore, but more barren because whatever tried to
grow there – whether pasture, brush, stunted trees or hills – had to contend
with the constant winds of the sea and the fury of its squalls. This was a
landscape with little shelter, and as the two men followed the trail, they
realised it was also no place for sheep.

But
they continued the chase, occasionally coming to a stop where the tracks would
cross a stream or pass over rock, leaving them to search for where the tracks
began again.