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Northern Fiction - The Saga of Freydis Eiriksdattir


Chapter 4


Page 2

        She examined first one, then the other young figure. “This one will live,” she declared. “This one I think will die. Hladgud, heat this bowl of onion porridge I brought. Bring it back, just warmed, not too hot.” She turned back to the first dwarf and examined the arrow that had passed through his body. The arrowhead was a barbed kroker but it had safely exited and where they emerged the skin was torn and raw, but all the damage had already been done. It was a simple task to remove the barbed head and extract the shaft by drawing it back slowly through the wound. Little blood flowed and Freydis observed: “If the puss does not come from poison on the barbs, he should live. No serious injury seems to have resulted. Though he is such a skinny youth, he had little room to spare when the arrow passed through him. It went from back to front, flesh to flesh, without hitting a vital organ. She made a warm poultice of herbs and molds to draw the wound and had him bandaged by Mjollnir in linen she had brought in her kit.
        When Hladgud returned with the bowl of strong onion porridge, Freydis had the second youth’s head raised and urged him to eat as much as he could. After a short wait, Freydis placed her nose to his belly and sniffed deeply. “He will die,” she said in her no-holds-barred bedside manner. She kissed Rafi on his brow, then rose from beside the young dwarf, the arrow still stuck in his guts unattended.
        “Why? How can you tell?” asked Aran.
        “I shall tell you. Medicine exists against many ills and evils,”:
Earth cures drunkenness, heather cures worms,
Oak cures constipation, grain cures sorcery,
Spurred rye helps ease rupture, runes cure sorrow,
The moons passage, time, heals feuds, fire cures chills,
Earth make floods harmless.
But nothing can help this boy.

        “Come here, I’ll show you. Place your nose to the wound and sniff deeply, just as I did. What do you smell?”
        “Onions!”
        “Exactly, his belly has been ripped open. You can smell the onions through the wound. He will die, puss and rot will form at the internal wound. It will turn green and then black. He will die in a day or two or a week depending upon his strength, perhaps, sooner if he bleeds to death first. The barbed arrow cannot be pulled from the wound. To attempt it would cause needless pain and increase the bleeding. The porridge had herbs to ease his pains, but that has stilled his memory as well. Poor Rafi, he will not live to tell us what happened. Our hope must be in Garm my little hound of Hel. Rafi is best left alone, or put out of his agony, now. Nothing can be done.”
        Mjollnir looked at Freydis for direction and she nodded assent. He placed his hand gently over the youth’s face, holding him firmly until he breathed no more. “I will bury Rati under the forge, where he was happy at his work,” Mjollnir said. “The tree-foe forge-fire will protect his spirit from evils.”
        Then to his wife: “Take Garm, wrap him in some furs so that he will be warm.”
        “What happened?” Freydis asked Mjollnir.
        “Ask Alvis, he brought them home. He is all-knowing.”
        Turning to Alvis, Freydis arched a brow: “Well?”
        “Lady Freydis, I found them in the road, just beyond the gate, and brought them here at once.”
        “Saw nothing?”
        “Nothing.”
        “Heard nothing?
        “Nothing. Well, some foot steps going in the direction of the harbor. But I saw no one, and rather than make chase I brought the boys back here.”
        “It is probably too late, . . . no! Wait. Mjollnir, go bring me Vali, my hound-keeper and Hrod, Hrym, Hymir, and Ygg. Hurry, it is almost dawn. Vali is so clever that he can trace footprints as readily in water as most men can follow in new fallen snow. Alvis you go with him, the rest of you stay here. You cannot all be seen scampering about once the sun is up. Obviously someone knows I have dwarfs in my service, but let us not announce it to the entire town, unless it is necessary.”
        Then, to the church-boys: “Go back to Hrolf. Tell him nothing. You were off wenching and got drunk tonight. That’s good enough for him to know.”
It is safe to tell a secret to one,
Dangerous to tell it to two,
Telling three is thoughtless folly,
Everyone soon knows what was said.

        “And, none of that confessing stuff either. I’ll find out. You will be all turned into toads. Then I’ll stomp on each of you and grind you with my heel! Even before the next day’s sun sets.” Then, with a wave of her hand: “Be gone!”
        Instantly, they were out the smithy door and falling over themselves in the yard. Then, they raced wildly for home through the dawn-gray streets. It seemed as if Freydis had magically transported them from smithy to churchyard with a spell.
        Freydis turned her attention to Vali who had just run to the forge after being roused by Mjollnir. “Take my hounds. Go with Alvis. Have him point out where he heard the noise. See if you can get the hounds to track down our mystery bowman.” To Mjollnir: “Bury the lad Rati. When Garm awakes, let me know at once. He should be able to tell us why he and Rati were shot through with arrows. I am back to my hearth. My bones ache with these cold damp mornings. All this activity of late! Would that I were younger, I’d get to the bottom of this soon enough.” Muttering to herself she was off to her great hall at the other side of the enclosure.
        Alvis led Vali to the spot where he had found the boys. Then, they sought the archers’ station. At a hundred feet from the start of their search they found the place where a man had stood waiting. He had stuck his arrows into the ground, to be at hand when needed, and they had left the tell-tale mark. He had urinated, when the waiting went on for some time, and left his scent. He had dropped and left his cloak pin, left an identity, when he ran off in haste. Obviously, a careless assassin. The hounds were given the scent of the man and unleashed by Vali. They bounded off in the direction Alvis had said he heard the noise coming from, dashing down Aoalstraeti to Micklegata in the direction of the town gates. The small town gate was open as many people were still heading home from Thorir’s feast. Many lived down by the nausts along Coppergata and the market area of the beach and so the gate remained open, but guarded. Those guards immediately recognized Freydis’ livery and did not dare challenge nor interfere with Freydis’ houndsman as he headed out the gate on the run.
        Beyond the stockade walls the hounds headed straight along Coppergata. At the beach the hounds ran toward a large tree that grew on a promontory near where Agdi and the Sea Mew were interred in the mound of earth. Suddenly Vali called the hounds back.
        “What’s the matter?” Alvis asked.
        Pointing to the tree Vali indicated the figure dangling from the branches. Vali asked Alvis to hold the leashes as he went forward to investigate. He found the still warm body of a man who had been tied, strangled, and hanged with his own bow-string. The thin string was even now deeply embedded in his throat. The corpse was speared through, he was as a murdered sacrifice dedicated to the god Odin.
        Alvis brought up the hounds, but the new scents led to the water and away. Apparently, the murderer had waded along the shore or had boarded a small boat, a rising tide had eliminated all traces.
        When Vali and Alvis returned to Freydis’ hall they found her cooking up a new batch of onion porridge. “Looks as if we will be needing more of this!” she chuckled grimly. “Well?” Then, when they had related the story of the manhunt, she asked for the cloak pin and looked it over carefully. “It is Icelandic work, competently made, but not especially unique. It is not new, yet it appears to be recently made. Silver, but not costly. The design does not seem particularly significant nor specific, it points to no family or particular individual. It tells us nothing conclusive at this time. But, it may have a tongue that can yet speak to us. Therefore I will keep the token against that day.”
        “Vali, feed the hounds, they did their part of the job. Alvis, go stay at the forge, let me know as soon as Garm awakens.” She turned back to her concoction brewing on the fire and they knew they were dismissed.


        Hrolf sat on the edge of his bed speaking to Aran, who lay wrapped in the warm covers against the chill of the stark stone chamber. “This is what I now know about the background of our Lady Freydis:”
        “When Eirik died, Leif was the eldest child and the sole surviving son. Thorvald and Thorstein were already dead. As Eirik’s eldest son Leif inherited both the role as community leader and the home farm at Brattahlid. He was called ‘Leif the Lucky’ by many and he was a good man by all report. Leif’s had a son named Thorgils. The boy was born of a high-born woman named Thorgunna. She never went to Greenland, but sent Thorgils to live with Leif and grow up in Greenland. He was Leif’s heir. Thorgil is reported to have been ‘strange’ in his manner and his ways, but I do not know in what ways his behavior was considered odd. Thorgil inherited Brattahlid in 1025 AD when Leif died and lived as the master of his home and of the settlements for many years.”
        “Freydis had been married off to a rich man named Thorvard. They lived on a large farm at Gardar in the Eastern settlement, near the site of the large church and many other major landholder’s home-farms. However, Freydis hated Thorvard. It is said that she resented Thorvard, holding him to be socially beneath her, and she felt Eirik had done her wrong, marrying her off to a man she loathed. Eirik’s line was a powerful and vigorous family, but one marred by violence and subject to sharp changes in fortune. Eirik’s grandfather and father were both homicides banished from their homes and Eirik followed in their footsteps. Nevertheless, over time the banishment’s had done them little harm and much good.”
        “Yes, but what about Freydis? Where does she fit into our story? How comes she to be here and live so long?”
        “Because of the timing of other events, I suspect that something must have happened during an early expedition here to Vineland the Good, perhaps sometime between the years 1013 AD and 1014 AD. Freydis and Thorvard led the expedition. There were two ships, the second vessel was commanded by Icelander brothers named Helgi and Finnbogi. Whatever happened, happened during that venture, because at some point in 1015 Leif laid a curse on Freydis. Years later Thorgil, her nephew, banished Freydis from Greenland. Whatever had happened, Lief would not execute his sister. Instead, it seems that he ostracized her from all human contact in Greenland. In addition, and this is the weird part, Leif cursed Freydis with ‘no death’ until she somehow repented and suffered for the good of the community. An unusual punishment indeed.”
        “Real charming family. But when I met her she was most caring . . .er, that is. .. . er.”
        “You met Freydis! Not just saw her. Not just said ‘hello’ in passing, but you ‘met’ her? Spoke with her and she to you. When? Wait. Was it last night when you went off from Thorir’s? What have you been keeping from me?”
        “I cannot say. I am already in terrible trouble for saying so much. Oh, shit.” Aran bit his lip hard enough to cause it to bleed. He looked at Hrolf with his very best “my puppy just died look” and hoped for the best.
        “It seems I can no longer trust you Aran. You act behind my back. You then avoid telling me about what you have done. Will you confess it to me?”
        “No. What I have done is no sin. I have no need to ‘confess’ anything about the subject.”
        “This is most distressing. It places a wall between us Aran. Where does your loyalty lie?”
        “I love you Hrolf, we have been so close. You are ever my friend. I look to you in every way as my mentor. I would never hurt you. Please, do not put me to a test. This is just something that we cannot share just yet. Wait. I will tell you all in good time. Trust me and trust my love for you, please.”
        “I have never had cause to doubt your love Aran. But, you and Freydis in a secret behind my back? How am I to see this? What am I to do?”
        “Have trust.”



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