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  Harald called out, ‘There are two grown wolves in this lair. One is a dog-wolf, the other is a she-wolf with a litter of cubs.’

  He had scarcely given this news when the great grey dog-wolf swept through the opening, his tail swirling in anger, and stood before the door, as though to guard it. All men noticed how strong in the jaw he seemed and how long in the teeth.

  Gudbrod said, ‘I had rather tackle that one with an axe than with a skillet-spoon; the weapon which my grandmother used against the English when they came to visit up the fjord one Spring.’

  Thorfinn said, ‘This is the grandfather of all wolves. I have seen nothing like him in the Northland.’

  Harald would have backed away, respecting the dog-wolf’s right to protect his wife and children, but the great grey creature suddenly gave a low growl and flung himself at the Viking, who stood not more than three paces away.

  Harald saw the beast springing and knew that it would be foolish and also cowardly to try to avoid him. Therefore, he drew his hunting-knife and, leaning over so that the wild creature should not strike him in head or chest, held the keen blade in such a way that the grey wolf swept along it in the course of his flight through the air.

  And when the wolf landed, howling with mortal agony, Harald turned on him and, apologizing, struck him just behind the skull, so that his end should be swift. The great grey wolf lay still, silent now, and giving forth only the slightest tremor of the hind legs.

  Jamsgar Havvarson said reflectively, ‘No blow was struck more shrewdly, not even among the Lapps, who are very able with the small knife. If I were a king, Sigurdson here should have a gold armring for this brave deed.’

  Thorfinn Thorfinnson said, ‘If you were a king, no one would have a gold ring but you, and that you would keep in an oak chest buried in the ground, while you went in rags. I know your sort of king.’

  But before this wrangling could go further, Grummoch went forward and whispered in Harald’s ear. Harald nodded, as though in agreement.

  Then he turned and spoke to Heome, who now stood trembling at the edge of the glade.

  ‘Heome, son of Gichita,’ he said, ‘all the world knows that you are a brave fellow, only prevented by your wounded hands from showing your valour. To prove this valour to your folk, I give you this wolf. We can say that you grappled with it, and had it nigh dead, when one of my men ran forward and gave it the end-stroke. How would that please you?’

  For a while, Heome’s dark eyes went from Harald to the wolf and back. Then he said, his pale lips twitching, ‘Such a deed would make my people respect me at last. They would accept me as a man for killing a wolf barehanded. But what of these white men here – would they not speak of the wolf-killing and let fall the secret?’

  Harald said, ‘I promise you, there is no fear of that. These men are my friends and followers, who have sailed with me through many bitter storms, over many salt seas. They would not betray our secret; would you, Vikings?’

  The Vikings, standing in the glade, shook their axes and promised never to speak of this affair again.

  And so the party turned back, bearing the dead dog-wolf. Grummoch carried it, for it was full-grown and heavy, until they came within sight of Gichita’s tepee, and then he passed it to Heome, who struggled along with his load to his father’s skin house.

  And there he laid it down before the old chief, and explained how he came to kill the fierce beast. The Vikings stood behind him, their arms folded, nodding at every word.

  At first Gichita looked doubtful but when he saw that Harald and Grummoch were nodding, too, he called the elders of the Beothuk Council, and solemnly they declared that Heome was now a brave and a full man.

  The squaws skinned the wolf and made a head-covering for Heome from the pelt. His new name was ‘Wolf-slayer’.

  When Wawasha returned, carrying deer upon a pole, he saw Heome strutting about among the squaws in his new finery, and asked what had happened. And when Harald told him that Heome had now proved himself a warrior, Wawasha ran to his brother and clasped him in his arms, almost weeping with pleasure that this should be so.

  But the Vikings observed that Heome shrugged off his brother’s embraces, his lips curling proudly, so that Wawasha was somewhat hurt.

  Grummoch said in a whisper, ‘Perhaps we have not done as well as we thought, oath-brother.’

  Harald said thoughtfully, ‘Perhaps. But that rests with the gods. We have sworn to keep the secret, and from now on the incident is closed.’

  But there were many among the Vikings during that feast-night who regretted that they had taken the oath in the glade that day, for they could not abide a proud coward, being warriors themselves.

  15

  Journey Inland

  Now the Spring was at its height, and all the trees were full and green. Young deer and foxes ran in abundance through the glades. Birds nested in every tree. Hawk and eagle hovered in the blue sky, seeking prey for their young.

  And, at last, Gichita called his folk together and said, ‘Now is the time when we leave our cooking-place in the forest and move to the great plains where there is meat and hide enough to feed all the world and to clothe them through the winter. Make ready, for this is the journey-season and we must not miss the fine weather, if we wish our canoes to sail smoothly through the waters of river and lake.’

  During the next two days, the braves patched and greased their long skin canoes, and carried them down to the water. There they loaded them with all that would be needed for the Spring journey – meal and dried meat, the carcasses of young deer, wine-skins of buffalo-hide, and all the weapons of the chase.

  Long Snake still lay at anchor by the shore, and the Vikings prepared her, too, for the long voyage inland, little knowing what they were to find there.

  On the day before they were due to sail, Wawasha came aboard and said, ‘Gichita, my father, will lead this sailing, and the new warrior, Heome, will sit in the canoe with him to guide the folk. Let me sail with you, stranger-brothers, in this great canoe of wood. It is something I have wished to do ever since I saw you come to the shore.’

  Harald took him by his strong brown hand and said, ‘Willingly, Wawasha. I would wish for nothing else. You are the first red Viking!’

  Then all the Northmen began to laugh, and Gudbrod Gudbrodsson gave Wawasha an iron helmet set with bull’s horns, and decorated at the front with a strip of copper inlaid with red garnets.

  This gift pleased Wawasha greatly, and he swore that he would always wear it, heavy though it was, as a sign of their brotherhood.

  And when the hunting-party set off, Wawasha stood in the prow of Long Snake, with Harald and Grummoch, looking so proud that the Vikings swore they had never seen a better man, no, not even along the fjords back in Northland.

  ‘If only he carried a proper axe of iron, instead of that little woodpecker!’ said Thorfinn.

  Gudbrod said, ‘Have no fears, that little woodpecker could do as much damage as your great wood-cleaver! Think, my clever friend, Wawasha has only to go Pick! Pick! and a man is no more. Whereas you have to swing your lump of iron set on a tree-trunk twice round your head before you can strike a blow – and then you are exhausted!’

  Thorfinn said, ‘Why, I do declare, you are more than half a red man yourself by now. Why do you not put on a hide shirt with fringes at the edge?’

  Gudbrod said, ‘I have been thinking that myself, friend. They are very warm, and are much more serviceable than the old woollen jerkin I am wearing at the moment.’

  Thorfinn said, ‘Oh, go and paint your face, you savage!’

  But in his heart, Thorfinn also admired the Beothuk, and especially Wawasha, who would one day be a great war-leader as fine as any man of the Northland.

  Only two things bothered the mind of Harald Sigurdson; one was the dream that now came to him almost every night, of his wife and two sons, who stood on a hilltop above the fjord, holding out their hands to him and asking with their eyes when he would come
back to their village. The other was the behaviour of the new warrior, Heome, who lost no opportunity of pointing out his great prowess to all he met.

  On the first day of the sailing towards the west, Harald drew Grummoch aside into the sheltered place at the stern of the longship and said, ‘Grummoch, there are two questions I wish to ask you, old axe-friend.’

  Grummoch scratched his tawny head and said, ‘Ask on, Harald my oath-brother; provided that you do not want to know where winds come from, or what makes the moon round like a plate. I do not know the answers to those questions, I will be frank with you. Though I fancy I could answer you almost any other question!’

  For a jest, Harald almost asked him where the tides started, but he did not, for he was at heart serious now. He asked instead, ‘Would it not be wiser for us to turn our ship round and sail towards the rising sun, towards our homes, and not towards the sinking sun?’

  Grummoch said, ‘That also had been in my mind, for we have been a long time from our homes. But consider – we are fewer than we were when we set out from the fjord. Until we can persuade some of the Beothuk to sail with us, we would make a poor showing back across the broad waters. Besides, it is the duty of every Northman who comes as far as this to take back treasure to his village, and we have not found treasure yet. It is my hope that if we go with the Beothuk inland, we may chance upon gold or silver, or precious stones, which can be carried easily in Long Snake. Then we should return home with the knowledge that the long voyage had not been wasted. Does that answer your first question, friend?’

  Harald nodded, yet in his heart was still the great yearning to set eyes once again upon his dear wife, Asa Thornsdaughter, and upon his two sons, Svend and Jaroslav.

  ‘What is your second question, Harald?’ asked Grummoch, scratching his side idly, as though he were a great prophet, to whom the answering of questions came as easily as swatting flies.

  Harald said, ‘I am worried in my mind about Heome. He was once weak and despised among his folk, because of his powerless hands; but we have given him manhood, hoping to give him pride in himself. Yet all that has happened is that he has gained contempt for all. Now he lords it above the warriors, and even speaks to his warrior brother, Wawasha, as though he is a dog beneath him. One day, I fear, he will betray his brother and perhaps try to kill him, so that he, Heome, will become chief of the Beothuk when Gichita dies. Moreover, it is in my mind that Heome will try to do away with us, for we know his secret, having made him what he is now.’

  Grummoch yawned and said, ‘Heome is still nothing more than a gnat that bites, such as these which follow the ship. They are irritating, but nothing more. When one wishes to be rid of them, it is an easy matter to waft them away. And if one settles on a man’s arm and tries to bite, it is an easy matter to slap them into nothingness with one pat of the hand. So it is with Heome. He calls himself Heome the Wolf; I call him Heome the Gnat. If Heome the Gnat offends me, I shall pat him with my hand, and he will be nothing but a memory.’

  Harald nodded, thoughtfully. ‘Brave words, friend,’ he answered. ‘But brave words are not always wise words. I have often watched the face of Heome, and have seen in it a strange sort of power, as though when the time came, he might well be a man to reckon with, and not a mere gnat. We must not underestimate him, Grummoch. He could do us an injury.’

  Grummoch began to hum a tuneless little ditty, then he said, ‘We will take that chance when it comes, Harald. When I think of the men I put paid to in Ireland, in the time of King MacMiorog, I laugh at the thought of dealing with little Heome.’

  Harald replied, ‘The men you met, years ago when you were young and lusty, were simple warriors, whose only strength was in their axe or their sword. Once you had overcome axe and sword, those men were finished. But Heome is not an axeman or a swordman; he has no hands to hold such simple weapons. His weapon is in his mind, and that is the craftiest weapon of all – for it will attack in unsuspected ways, in a bear-pit, a falling tree, an avalanche, a hole in the bottom of a boat, poison in a drinking-cup, a cord round the neck while one is sleeping.’

  Grummoch answered, ‘We are all in the hands of Odin, oath-brother. What will come, will come; and there is no doing anything about it. Why, you might as well worry about that misty Shield-maiden who came to you when we left Haakon’s man, Havlock Ingolfson, on the skerry to drown.’

  Harald answered sadly, ‘You speak truer than you know, friend! I do worry about her, every other day. I am not a child to be put off with sweet words; I know that I did wrong that night in leaving the poor wretch to drown on the lonely skerry, and I know that Odin will punish me for it, in one way or another, before he has done with me. It may even be that he has already chosen Heome the Gnat to be my death-giver.’

  Grummoch laughed aloud at this, and made Harald drink a horn of red berry-juice, to put him in a better frame of mind.

  But though this remedy worked for an hour, it did not last the day out, and towards evening he was sad again. He would not even join the other Vikings at axe-throwing, a pastime which whiled away the tedious hours for them.

  They set up a cord, no thicker than a man’s small finger and drawn tight between two sticks. Then they went back ten paces and aimed their axes at it, trying to cut the cord in the centre. Harald was usually the first to do this; but now he shrugged his friends away when they asked him to join them.

  Gudbrod Gudbrodsson said, ‘Friend Harald is in a black mood tonight.’

  Jamsgar Havvarson said, ‘I think he has a stomach ache which is bothering him. That is the only thing I know which can make a man look so thoughtful.’

  16

  Long Sailing

  They crossed a narrow stretch of water on the first two days, and then camped for a night under beetling mountains, with the wolves howling above them as the moon rose, pale and full.

  This was a green land, but lonely.

  ‘Who lives here?’ asked Harald of Wawasha.

  Wawasha spread his great hands and shrugged his brown shoulders.

  ‘Few men,’ he said. ‘Tribes who do not give themselves names, but hunt only in small parties. They are not men like us; they wear fur about them, like bears, and come from far far North. The Moon is their Goddess and they feed rather on the fat than on the flesh of the creatures they kill. They are not men to be afraid of, for when they see us coming with our feathers and our axes, they run away into the forests.’

  Grummoch said, ‘Are there any men you are afraid of, Wawasha?’

  Wawasha said, ‘A Beothuk brave is afraid of no man, giant. But there are some men we treat with caution; men such as the Algonkin, who live a moon’s distance up the great river we shall enter before long. They are fierce warriors, and there are many of them. They do not love the Beothuk, because once, many generations ago, some of our young men landed on their shore and chopped down their sacred tree, not knowing what they did, but only wishing to build a shelter for themselves against the storms that come on towards the close of the hunting season, when we make our way back to our own cooking-place.’

  Harald asked, ‘What of the Algonkin? Do they come out to fight with you, friend?’

  Wawasha nodded. ‘Some years they lie waiting for us to come up the great river; then there is bloodshed. But some years they stand on the shore and watch us go past, hoping that the river will kill us – for there are many hazards there, rapids, waterfalls, rocks and landslides.’

  Grummoch asked, ‘Why then do you go every year inland, when there is food enough to be got from your own forests?’

  Wawasha said, ‘We go for many reasons. First, because the great God, Gichguma, commanded us to go, at the beginning of the world; secondly, because our tribe have always gone, just as most other tribes have gone; and lastly because we must visit the great quarries beside the lake, where the sacred stone is dug out of the ground. Nowhere in all the world can this sacred stone be found, but in this place. Without it, we could not make our peace-pipes or the necklaces which
protect us from thunder and lightning.’

  He put his hand within his light robe and drew out a long necklace of red stone. Each bead was carved in the shape of a man’s head, and was threaded on a thin string of buckskin.

  Harald handled this necklace gently. ‘This stone is hard, Wawasha,’ he said. ‘How could it be made into such fine shapes, then?’

  Wawasha drew the necklace away from the viking’s fingers, quietly, as though it might lose its magic if it were handled too long by another.

  ‘When it is first dug,’ he said, ‘it is as soft as clay; and it is then that we shape it with our knives. But later it grows hard and keeps its shape, as you have felt. This necklace was made by the father of my father’s father, and that was many lives ago. It is still unbroken, as you see. It is very strong medicine, too, for not one who has worn it was ever harmed by thunder or lightning.’

  Grummoch said, ‘I must have one of those, then Thor can do his worst!’

  Thorfinn Thorfinnson, who had been listening, said, ‘It is foolish to speak so, Grummoch Giant. Thor may well be listening, and may decide to strike you down before you can dig such a necklace. Then where would you be?’

  The giant shrugged his massive shoulders. ‘Burnt to crackling under a tree, I expect,’ he said. ‘What worry is that to you, Thorfinn Thorfinnson?’

  The other said, ‘It is a great worry, for I might be standing beside you, and then I, too, would be burned to crackling under a tree.’

  Gudbrod Gudbrodsson said, ‘Then you would be cooked in good company. That would be better than being cooked with Jamsgar Havvarson, who is a skinny man and would not cook well.’

  Wawasha listened to the Vikings as they wrangled, but he had learned now that this was their manner, and that ill seldom came from such arguments, unless the Vikings had been drinking berry-juice, or held axes in their hands when the discussion started. But this night, none of them held axes, and few of them had more than a sip of the red juice from the stone gourds.