Across the Sea, Alan Eiland [popular books of all time TXT] 📗

can say what I want to him, nothing will happen.” Erik said. “Look! Olaf, you pig-faced, womanish, argr! See, he cannot hear what I say. He is far away. And anyway, I do not fear a man who was used as a chamber pot.” Erik said.
“How dare you insult a Christian?” Leif hissed.
“Easily.” Erik said.
“I’ve finished.” Bjarni said, loading the toboggan. Leif could only glare as Erik hooked up his own horse, and Freyja to the toboggan. As he mounted his horse, Erik delivered a scathing remark to his son.
“I wouldn’t want to burden you with men’s work.” Erik said, spurring his horse. He and Bjarni rode away with the toboggan dragging behind them. Leif cursed, then sped up his horse.
When the three returned to Brattahlid, Leif was greeted by Freydis, dressed in an apron over her white dress. Her red hair was tied in two coiling braids and she wore a grey woolen cap. Behind her was a small army of serving girls.
“Come inside, the food is ready.” Freydis said gruffly. The men entered the living quarters and sat a small, intimate table. Freydis carried three trenchers of smoked mutton, rutabaga, and dried codfish. Leif ate heartily, swigging a cup of ale after each bite. Freydis was a diligent server, making sure that no cup ran dry, that the trenchers were piled high with food. As the meal was halfway through, Freydis brought out a wheel of cheese, slicing out chunks with a knife and handing them to the men.
“Geitost, from our own farm. I made it myself.” Freydis said proudly. Leif ate the sweet cheese heartily, savoring the sweet caramel flavor. Freydis, for all her faults, could make cheese. Once the meal was finished, Erik began to speak.
“Bjarni, Leif, what brings you here?” Erik asked.
“Leif is going west in my ship. We request your blessing.” Bjarni said.
“Leif, you never informed me of these plans, in fact you seemed set against exploration. I am what convinced you to go.” Erik asked.
“I challenged Bjarni to holmgang and lost.” Leif said quietly, his head hung in shame. He had dreaded telling his father of his failure more than he dreaded travelling west. Since childhood, Leif had cultivated a healthy fear of his father’s displeasure.
“What?” Erik asked.
“I challenged Bjarni to holmgang and lost! His terms were for me to travel west in his ship.” Leif said. There was a heavy silence. Then Freydis sniggered.
“I knew you were a weakling! Defeated by an old man!” Freydis laughed. Erik said nothing, eyes cold.
“I’m sorry, Father!” Leif said. He knew that by losing, he had tarnished the honor of his family, and that Erik would not tolerate it.
“You are not fit to lead this voyage.” Erik said, leaving the room. Leif began to cry, and Bjarni cuffed him over the head.
“Hold back your tears, I’ll handle Erik.” he said. Leif nodded. Bjarni left the kitchen, leaving Leif alone with his sister, who shook her head in shame.
“I have never felt particularly honored to have you as a brother. But I have never been dishonored until now.” Freydis said, leaving the room. Leif left as well, heading to his childhood room.
Hours later, a slave appeared at the door, bearing clothes.
“You father requests you for at sundown. These clothes are for you.” the slave said, looking at him with disdain. Leif accepted the clothes and waved the slave away. He took the clothes and put on first a bright red short sleeved woolen tunic, then dark plaid full length trousers. He then donned the blue cloak, fastened with a valknut pin. The edge of the cloak was trimmed with sailing ships. His hat was slightly conical and trimmed with silver metalwork of the same ships on the cloak. His belt was constructed of leather, fastened with a burnished bronze buckle. He then put on his golden armring, his golden necklace that displayed a fine golden cross, and his boots, made from calfskin. He belted his sword, the pummel decorated with an amber bead, and his knife. He freshly waxed his mustache then stepped from the room, moving to the mead hall. When he entered, it was to a much different sight than before. The hall was lit with torches, mounted in wall brackets, giving the scene a more solemn flavor. The tables were full, many men, the most powerful in Greenland, were sitting at the tables. Erik sat at the head of the longest table, with Bjarni at his left. Leif sat in the empty seat at his right, head down in shame, but Erik grinned at him. Leif thought his father’s mood odd considering the events of the morning. Behind Erik stood his skald, Grimr, and behind the skald stood musicians, playing horns, harps, and drums. Erik clapped his hands loudly and Freydis and several serving maids, entered, bearing plates of roasted bear meat, spinach and leek soup, flatbread, and Geitost cheese. The men were served, then given small cups of ale. Leif dug into the meal heartily, the bear meat was delicious and rich. When the meal was finished, Erik raised his hand.
“It has come to my attention that my eldest son will be undertaking a journey west, to the land that Bjarni Herjolfsson saw, some ten years ago.” Erik said. The men were silent as Erik surveyed them.
“I will lead this expedition for did I not find this land in which we live? Am I not your King?” Erik shouted. As the men cheered, Leif gasped. How could he do this? The expedition was Leif’s, he was honor bound to undertake it. Leif shot a glance at Bjarni who shrugged, then stood.
“My lord, I was under the impression that Leif will be leading this journey. It was part of our agreement.” Bjarni said. Erik stood as well, his blue eyes boring into Bjarni’s black ones.
“I am afraid that as a father, I cannot allow Leif to take this journey, and as a king, my will supersedes yours.” Erik replied coldly.
“But-”
“Silence! Do not challenge me!” Erik hissed. Bjarni sat. Then Erik called on his personal guard.
“Hirdmenn, I summon thee, swear your oaths upon my sword, that you shall be loyal to me even to the ends of the Earth, in Odin’s name!” Erik said. The Hirdmenn stepped forward, all muscled and donning chainmail, swords at their waists, axes on their backs. One by one they walked to Erik, placing their hands on the hilt of his sword. Each swore fealty to him and his line in Odin’s name. Then Erik spoke his own oath.
“Hirdmenn, I accept your oaths and give one of mine own in return. I, Erik Thorvaldsson, from the line of Naddoddr, swear upon Gungnir, mighty spear of Odin, that I shall lead you on this voyage, unless the gods will it not to be” Erik said.
Then Grimr the skald stepped forward, speaking in a loud clear voice.
“Listen thee, to the tale of might Erik
Red in hair and bold in nature,
And of his voyage in the swan of the sea,
Across the icy whale road,
To this land of bounty,
Who shall lead us with princely virtue
To a new land across the swan road
To again raise his icicle of war
In battle against new foe.
So come, feeders of ravens,
Come with the breaker of rings
To a new land,
For you are bound by oath
To serve until your flamed farewell,
The king who brings the sleep of the sword
To fields before unknown and unseen!”

The Hirdmenn cheered, drawing their swords and brandishing them chanting:
“Long Live Erik the Red, King of the Greenlanders!”
Leif cursed at the cheers, eyes clouded by red mist as the skald broke into another poem, speaking of the bravery of Erik the Red. Bjarni also brooded, not to be drawn into the festivities.
“How could he do this to me?” Leif asked. Bjarni shrugged.
“We can do nothing about it, oaths have been sworn. Without the presence of an omen, Erik will lead the voyage.” Bjarni said. Leif thought for a second, then spoke.
“We can give him the omen.” Leif said.
“I’ll have no part in this! You would make your father an oath breaker? Silence, and lets not speak of this again.” Bjarni said. Bjarni stood and walked away.
That night, at midnight, Leif rose, dressed, and mounted Grani. He rode over fields and tundra, silently through the night. Soon he arrived at a strange house made from turf. He tied his horse to an wooden railing, then entered the house.
The interior was hazy and smoky, yet damp, for the house was part of the earth. Fire burned in the center, tended by a dark haired woman whom Leif had known from his childhood. Her name was Disa and she was a witch. She was currently sifting through herbs while chanting over them, waving a birch rod about. When Leif entered, she paused.
“What brings you here?” she asked.
“I need advice. I must fake an omen to cause my father to give up his westerly voyage, to allow me to take it instead.” Leif said. The woman nodded.
“You have come to the right place, for I know many omens.” Disa said, her voice like the two bolts of silk rubbing together. She grabbed a distaff from the wall, covered in silver brocade. Beating upon a drum and waving the staff she began to sing in a beautiful voice, her pale features illuminated by the firelight.
“Many omens I know,
Given to me by Freyja,
Through loom and sacred staff,
I know the secrets of future.”
Disa then spread her herbs along the ground, praying and shaking the staff and beating it upon the floor rhythmically. She moaned, eyes rolled back in her head. Then she righted herself, plucking a few herbs from the floor and flinging them into a cauldron, singing another song.
“In Freyja’s name these herbs I mix
Shall cause illusion of the mind,
To slay the greatest warrior,
And place the mind fetter on Odin himself.
Henbane, Banewort, Mandrake, and Thorn Apple,
Give the speech of gods to poisoner’s hand.”
Disa then ladled a liquid from the pot and strained it into a small vial. She then took a golden ring and pushed up the amber gem, pouring a small amount of the poison into the ring.
“Put that in his drink right before the journey. He will receive omen from the gods soon after he drinks it. The omen will last for a few moments, then he shall be sane once more.” Disa said. Leif donned the ring, then placed a golden neck ring in Disa’s hand. He left the turf house and returned home.
The next day, Leif, Erik, and Bjarni sat at a small table. Leif and Erik played a game of Fox and Hounds on an ivory board. Erik, being the better player, played as the fox, easily maneuvering among Leif’s hounds. Erik was so at ease, he spoke to Bjarni as he played.
“Tell me of your travels.” Erik asked, maneuvering the single fox expertly from among a cluster of the hounds trying to capture it.
“I started in Norway, ten years ago, to visit my father in Iceland. I set out in a knorr, with 35 men. Upon reaching Iceland, I discovered that my father did not live there anymore, he had sailed with you on an expedition to Greenland. So I followed him across the sea, but a storm hit my ship, strong winds sending me west ward. The storm continued for days, and when it subsided, I did not know where I was and I was low on food and water. The skies were cloudy day