Avalon (42 page)

Orm sailed in their small boat to fetch the mead, and was very serious on his return home.

He found Merewyn, Thora, and Astrid sitting in the Hall. It was snowing outside, not the great winter blizzards, but a drizzhng snow which hissed on the roof.

Orm looked at his mother, at Astrid and at Thora who was happily playing with a mound of pebbles — arranging them and scattering them over the hearth.

"Leif sailed yesterday to find those lands to the west," said Orm, climbing to the High Seat — which was now his — and waiting for Brigid to bring him ale.

Merewyn looked up, she drew in her breath. "Leif sailed?"

"Indeed, and I'm glad I happened to be there. The nearest I'll come to going."

"But you were going with Leif," said Merewyn.

"I was once, I'm not. How could I leave here before my Ardval?"

"Nay," said Astrid quickly. "How could you! You're the family chief now."

"And," said Orm solemnly, "I swore to my father before he died that I would take my mother and sister off Greenland on the Bylgja — which is mine now." He tossed his fair locks,

looking proud. "Mother, where would you hke to go? If we sell our thralls, we'll have plenty of silver to hire a good crew. Erik the Red has a sen-ant who would even pay something for Brigid as a wife."

"May heaven help him, whoever he is," said Merewyn with the first smile they had seen. "But since women are so scarce here . . . and everything else is scarce —"

"You want to go back to Iceland?" asked Astrid, glad that her friend was talking again.

"No," said Merewyn. "England. I want trees, and the soft summer air. I'm homesick." She said this in a faintly startled voice and spoke no more. The sleet hissed on the roof.

Astrid spoke to Orm. "At Brattalid, what was Leif's departure like?"

"Nothing special," answered Orm. "We all waved farewell

— oh yes, Leif had properly asked his father to go with him, but Erik has been in a bad mood ever since that priest came and Thiodild is building a church. He did not want to sail with Leif. and managed to fall off his horse and hurt himself. Which he said was a sign that he should not leave Greenland. So he didn't go.

"Ah, yes," said Astrid, shaking her head. "Pooi^old Erik tries to rule his 'kingdom' here, but he cannot rule his wife or sons anymore. Nor," she added on a sigh, "can he rule death." She glanced at Merewyn.

"There've been several more deaths," said Orm cheerfully, "in the Western Settlement, and even at Brattahd — from the sickness."

"Death —" said Merewyn suddenly. "Everywhere is death

— it took my Sigurd."

"We can sail in a week," Orm said. He missed his father but he no longer sorrowed for being unable to go with Leif. The owTiership of the Bylgja excited him. And the voyage to England did too, now his mother had requested it. He had no doubts of his abiHt>' to skipper the ship, he had explored ever)'

inch of her from his childhood on, and had learned seamanship since he could toddle from both Ketil and Sigurd.

"The sooner the better," said Merewyn, glancing at Thora who had tired of her pebble game, and was standing by the window, her hand cupped around her ear, a delighted look on her face as though she could hear something they could not.

"It will be sad without you, Merevyn," said Astrid with another sigh. "But I know that for you it is better to leave here. And I have my husband and children." She got up and kissed Merewyn on the cheek. "I'll help you get ready," she added, "and you must not spend too much on Orm's Ardval — you will need many supplies on board the Bylgja to get to England. That is a long way, I think."

"It is!" cried Orm, jubilantly. "Farther away than where Leif's trying to go. I'm sure of that."

Merewyn looked at her young son. What it is to be eighteen, and so confident! Sigurd was once like that.

At the memory of Sigurd there came a kind of bleeding and weeping inside. She got up violendy and went to Thora who was trying to make a bunch of moss stick on the head of a little wooden puppet Astrid had brought her.

"That's not the way, dear," she said. "I'll lend you one of my pins, and then the hair will stay on."

Thora relinquished the puppet, and looked up at her mother. "Thora wants Freydis," she said plaintively. "She'll come?"

Merewyn flinched and turned to Astrid. "My friend," she said, "will you help me start packing our chests, now.'"'

It was the middle of September when the Bylgja neared England. She had been about two months at sea and except for occasional adverse winds, one storm, and the discovery of a small mysterious leak in the bow, the voyage was uneventful. The leak was just behind the carved image of Thor, long ago placed there by Ketil. They caulked the leak with a wad of tarred canvas, and could not understand why each morning the canvas

had fallen out and seawater was trickling in. Mereuyn first guessed the cause of this, and stayed awake watching. Yes, it was Thora, who dug out the caulking, and crooned happily as she dabbled her fingers in the water.

"No, Thora!" cried Merewyn, slapping the girl's hand. "Don't do that! Orm would be angry!"

"Orm not my father—"said Thora. "lAHiere's my father?" She began to cry. Merewyn, with a heavy heart and no answer, soothed the child by nursery rhymes and lullabies. After that she put Thora in a different place in the prow, and stayed alert for any movement.

During the voyage, Orm had been greatly helped in navigation by an old English-born seaman called John. John had often traveled as crew from various ports in England to Iceland. He had gone on to Greenland because his half-Icelandic son wished to better himself. But the son had recently died of the sickness in the Western Settlement. John wished to come home. He was stooped and little, his hair was gray, his mouth toothless, his cheeks netted with purple veins. Orm had been reluctant to take him on but now he was glad. Old John could read the stars, he could smell a coming storm, and like a swallow or a sea gull, he always knew which way to steer for where he,wanted.

One day when they were becalmed and had broken out the oarsmen, John, normally taciturn, said to Merewyn, "W'^e're driftin' south around the tip o' Ireland. Ye didn't want to land at Padstow, did ye?"

'Wc.'" Merewyn gave a shudder.

"Wasn't sure —" said John, chomping with sharp old gums on a bit of pork crackle. "Folk get a hankering to get back where they was bom. I do m'self, though 'twas only a hovel half the size o' this ship."

"You were born in our west country, weren't you?" asked Merewyn, keeping an eye on Thora who distracted the oarsmen by tripping back and forth betvi^een them and making little sounds. Thora was certainly very pretty; her red hair sprang in

curls around her small innocent face; her breasts and hips were womanly; some of the crew gave her lecherous looks, but there was no real danger — no privacy except under the women's tent in the prow; besides, Orm kept as stern an eye on his men as ever Ketil or Sigurd did.

"I was born nearabouts Bristol, ma'am," John said. "Bristol's a fair port 'n' we better head fur it. Up the river Severn. Once there I can start ye all on your way."

"Start us on our way?" Merewyn repeated. Where to? She had thought only of reaching England. For all the weeks she had scarcely thought of anything but the needs of life at sea, of caring for Thora, and of admiring Orm when he left the steering oar and came forward to ask how she did.

Suddenly, and for the first time in months, she thought of Rumon. When she found Rumon, he would tell her what to do. She felt comfort when she thought of Rumon.

"Glastonbury . . . ?" she said to John. "It's in the west country, would it be near this Bristol you say we shoiild land in?"

Old John pulled another piece of crackle from the grilled pig.

"Glaston's near enough to Bristol," he agreed. "Wouldn't take much more'n a day to get there over the Mendip Hills."

iMerewyn laughed, and the old man looked at her inquiringly.

"I remember," she said, "when the Mendips seemed so — so enormous to me, but since then I've known great mountains in Iceland and Greenland. Hills now are enough."

"Fur me too," said John. " 'Tis because we're gettin' on, though ye're so much younger, ma'am. Ah —" His hunched body stiffened, and he Hcked his forefinger to hold it in the air. "Winds blowing up from the west, we'll make do wi' that. It'll help us." He went aft to speak to Orm.

Ten days later they had managed to get up the Severn, and enter the Avon. "Here's Bristol," announced old John with satisfaction. "The best port in the west country, wouldn't wonder was it better than London."

Everyone looked at the collection of thatched huts, the few stone buildings, and the spire of a church. There were many wooden docks and the Avon was alive with little coracles.

As they came into the town, a woman on shore gave a piercing wail, and began to run. Others gathered on the bank and began to point at the Bylgja. They too ran away. In a few minutes the church bell began ringing frantically.

Alerewyn went aft to Orm. "They think we're a Viking raider," she said. "Lower the sail, and take off those dragons on the prow and stem."

Orm looked rebellious. He liked the Bylgp with all her panoply.

"You have to dock," said Alerewyn quietly. "We're leaking and we've run out of drink, even water. Do you want them to kill us?"

She indicated a growing mass of men on the bank, all with bows and arrows and spears.

"We'll fight them," said Orm. "How dare they keep us from landing!"

Alerewyn did not argue with him — he looked much like Ketil at the moment. She pulled off the white linen coif she had saved for the arrival, and waved it violently. She said to Thora, "Stand here beside me! Wait — first run forward and get your night shift — then wave that!"

The girl obeyed, and rapidly rejoined her mother.

The men on the bank seemed uncertain. One arrow whizzed harmlessly above Orm's head. Alerewyn and Thora waved their garments.

Old John came up, and said to Orm, "Yonder quay is empty — steer for that, young master, I'll speak to them." As the Bylgja came close to shore, John shouted across the water. "^\^ot a way to greet fellow countrymen who're coming home! We expected a better welcome!"

A crowd of armed men had now reached the dock, towards which they saw the Bylgja heading. They milled about and

conferred, while watching the two women waving their peace signals. Several of the men on shore suspected a trick. In the last ten years there had been constant Viking raids, and a constant paying-off by King Ethelred to stop them.

The men of Bristol, as in many another port, were ashamed. They were eager to fight.

The Bylgja edged towards the empty dock, someone let loose another arrow which struck an oarsman on the arm. Merewyn felt Thora trembling beside her, and straightening up very tall, she cupped her hands and called to a man in a rich blue tunic, garnished with gold, who had gold bracelets and a sword that glittered on his hip. "Are you an earl," she called, "or thane? You seem so by your dress."

The man nodded. "I am a thane." He said something quieting to another citizen who was aiming a spear. The thane came forward.

"You see," continued Merewyn, buoyed by a strength she had never used before, "we are peaceable. We have no shields along our gunwales. We have no real weapons. We've sailed from Greenland only to get home. We ask only that you let us land, for we are sorely athirst."

The thane, whose name was Odo, had a broad honest face, and he was perplexed. He fingered his sword hilt, and knit his bushy flaxen brows.

"Let's kill them, my lord," cried a male voice from the crowd. "We could get 'em all from here."

Odo made a dismissive gesture. "Wait!" He called to Merewyn, "Who are you? And where is this Greenland you claim to have left?"

Merewyn thought fast. One could not explain Greenland. "I am the Lady Merewyn —" she called back. "I was bom down there in Cornwall. I served many years as waiting lady to Queen Alfrida. I am a Christian, and the descendant of King Arthur whom you well know here."

This last remark came without volition. It spoke itself.

Odo was impressed. "You come from the line of Arthur?"

"Yes," said Merewyn. "That's why I was favored at King Edgar's court and waited on the Queen until poor Httle King Edward's death. Then I went to a convent — Romsey. Have you heard of it.'"

Odo shook his head and bowed. He revered the memory of the heroic Arthur, as did everyone in the west country.

"Who's that?'''' he asked, pointing at Orm, who was gripping the steering oar as though he would like to break it and scowling ferociously.

"That is my son," said Merewyn. "His father is dead. He has brought us home. Me and my daughter," She put her arm around Thora, who stared across the water with blank frightened eyes.

Odo slowly digested this information, and decided that the handsome woman was telhng the truth. At least that though this looked like a Viking raider, yet none of the crew seemed threatening.

"The women may come ashore," he said. "Everyone else on the ship is to stay there for now, under guard." The men of Bristol grumbled assent, and aimed in readiness either their arrows or their spears towards the Bylgja.

Merewyn and Thora scrambled aft to climb on the gunwhale to the dock. "Mother," Orm hissed angrily, as she passed him. "That's not true what you said about Arthur. You're of Ketil's blood!"

"Shut up!" she answered from the side of her mouth. "Do you want us all murdered?"

Orm was confused and humiliated. He had never seen her look like this before, hke Frigg, the angry goddess, flashing-eyed. He did not want her to intercede for him. He wanted to fight. To leap ashore with his crew and die in honorable battle if need be. But though the berserker frenzy rose in him, and though each of his crew had an axe, he gave no order. It was the sight

of Thora which deterred him. The girl was clinging to their mother and sobbing.

Old John also deterred him. "Now look'ee, young master," said John, putting his gnarled hand on Orm's arm. "We've not come all this way fur a bloody brawl. Ye make one move, an' all them spears and arrows will be in us like stuck pigs. I'd like to see m'old home at Pucklechurch afore I die. Let yer mother handle this. She's one can do it."