pointed to Hekja. ‘You’re from her land originally, are you not?’ she demanded.
‘Yes, mistress, though I have lived in Norway for many years.’
‘And now you no longer live in Norway. You are my brother’s thrall, on my ship, and you will do what I say. Untie her, explain things to her, get her to eat. Teach her our language.’
Hikki stared. ‘She should understand you already, mistress!’
Freydis shrugged. ‘These tiny villages on these islands only use half a dozen words. She probably doesn’t know a loom from a codfish. Tell her what she needs to know.’
‘That will take some time, mistress!’
‘Then the sooner you begin, the better,’ said Freydis without much interest. ‘Feed her too!’ She thrust the dried fish into Hikki’s unwilling hands then strode back to the front of the ship and sat staring at the sea, as though she could understand its waves.
Hikki put the fish down and untied the rope from Hekja’s hands. The rope was wet and the knots hard to undo, but finally he managed it. Hekja gave a small groan as the blood flowed back into her hands and feet,then bit her lip. She wouldn’t give the Vikings the pleasure of hearing her pain. But none of them were listening; they were chattering to themselves, or pulling ropes about the sail.
‘Who are you?’ demanded Hekja softly, as Snarf sniffed the young man’s feet, rejected them, and took a fish to chew instead.
‘I am Hikki, runner for King Harald the Fair Hair,’ 10 said the young man proudly. ‘Now a gift to Leif Eriksson, the son of the great chief Erik the Red, the founder of Greenland. Leif brought many goods to trade with Norway, and Erik the Red sent his son to the king with gifts of walrus ivory and furs. The king gave me to Leif in return. I am the fastest runner in the whole of Norway. I took messages from one end of the land to the other.’
‘Norway? Greenland? What are these names?’ asked Hekja, bewildered.
‘They are countries, far from your village. Norway is where this ship has sailed from,’ said Hikki patiently. ‘Greenland is where we are going. It’s a new land, found only eighteen years ago. My master and your mistress have holdings there, near their father’s farm at Brattahlid. The Lady Freydis is your mistress now. She is my master’s sister.’
‘We are going to another land?’ Hekja had to force her voice to stay steady.
Hikki nodded. ‘The Norsemen know how to sail far across the sea and find their way even when there is no land to guide them. From Stad in Norway it is seven days’sailing to eastern Iceland, then four days’ sailing to Brattahlid in Greenland.’
Hekja blinked. It was too much to understand.
‘We were sailing to Brattahlid but the storm blew us off course,’ Hikki continued. ‘The Vikings had to shelter in your bay, so my master says now we will sail well to the south of Iceland and, God willing, 11 see land in eight days’ time.’
Hekja shook her head. ‘Eight? Seven?’
Hikki sighed. ‘They are numbers, for counting. You have a lot to learn.’ He held up his fingers. ‘You see—one, two, three, four, five. Ten are the fingers of two hands. But there are bigger numbers. Erik the Red took four hundred followers with him to Greenland. That is a larger number by far.’
Hikki patted Hekja’s hand, till she drew it back. ‘I was as ignorant as you are when I was taken as a boy,’ he added.
Hekja stared at him. ‘The Vikings captured you too?’
Hikki nodded. ‘I am a slave, a thrall like you.’
‘A slave! Why didn’t you run away then,’ Hekja demanded, ‘when they landed at my village? You said you are the best runner in…in wherever it is!’
Hikki looked superior. ‘And live among the rocks and hares? Greenland is an empty land, my master says. If I serve him well I will be freed and may claim land of my own, 12 and have a proper farm, not a hut with a scrapingof barley behind it. Even…’ he looked calculatingly at Hekja, ‘a
‘Yes, mistress, though I have lived in Norway for many years.’
‘And now you no longer live in Norway. You are my brother’s thrall, on my ship, and you will do what I say. Untie her, explain things to her, get her to eat. Teach her our language.’
Hikki stared. ‘She should understand you already, mistress!’
Freydis shrugged. ‘These tiny villages on these islands only use half a dozen words. She probably doesn’t know a loom from a codfish. Tell her what she needs to know.’
‘That will take some time, mistress!’
‘Then the sooner you begin, the better,’ said Freydis without much interest. ‘Feed her too!’ She thrust the dried fish into Hikki’s unwilling hands then strode back to the front of the ship and sat staring at the sea, as though she could understand its waves.
Hikki put the fish down and untied the rope from Hekja’s hands. The rope was wet and the knots hard to undo, but finally he managed it. Hekja gave a small groan as the blood flowed back into her hands and feet,then bit her lip. She wouldn’t give the Vikings the pleasure of hearing her pain. But none of them were listening; they were chattering to themselves, or pulling ropes about the sail.
‘Who are you?’ demanded Hekja softly, as Snarf sniffed the young man’s feet, rejected them, and took a fish to chew instead.
‘I am Hikki, runner for King Harald the Fair Hair,’ 10 said the young man proudly. ‘Now a gift to Leif Eriksson, the son of the great chief Erik the Red, the founder of Greenland. Leif brought many goods to trade with Norway, and Erik the Red sent his son to the king with gifts of walrus ivory and furs. The king gave me to Leif in return. I am the fastest runner in the whole of Norway. I took messages from one end of the land to the other.’
‘Norway? Greenland? What are these names?’ asked Hekja, bewildered.
‘They are countries, far from your village. Norway is where this ship has sailed from,’ said Hikki patiently. ‘Greenland is where we are going. It’s a new land, found only eighteen years ago. My master and your mistress have holdings there, near their father’s farm at Brattahlid. The Lady Freydis is your mistress now. She is my master’s sister.’
‘We are going to another land?’ Hekja had to force her voice to stay steady.
Hikki nodded. ‘The Norsemen know how to sail far across the sea and find their way even when there is no land to guide them. From Stad in Norway it is seven days’sailing to eastern Iceland, then four days’ sailing to Brattahlid in Greenland.’
Hekja blinked. It was too much to understand.
‘We were sailing to Brattahlid but the storm blew us off course,’ Hikki continued. ‘The Vikings had to shelter in your bay, so my master says now we will sail well to the south of Iceland and, God willing, 11 see land in eight days’ time.’
Hekja shook her head. ‘Eight? Seven?’
Hikki sighed. ‘They are numbers, for counting. You have a lot to learn.’ He held up his fingers. ‘You see—one, two, three, four, five. Ten are the fingers of two hands. But there are bigger numbers. Erik the Red took four hundred followers with him to Greenland. That is a larger number by far.’
Hikki patted Hekja’s hand, till she drew it back. ‘I was as ignorant as you are when I was taken as a boy,’ he added.
Hekja stared at him. ‘The Vikings captured you too?’
Hikki nodded. ‘I am a slave, a thrall like you.’
‘A slave! Why didn’t you run away then,’ Hekja demanded, ‘when they landed at my village? You said you are the best runner in…in wherever it is!’
Hikki looked superior. ‘And live among the rocks and hares? Greenland is an empty land, my master says. If I serve him well I will be freed and may claim land of my own, 12 and have a proper farm, not a hut with a scrapingof barley behind it. Even…’ he looked calculatingly at Hekja, ‘a
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