Klaufi and the Skogsruss, Part 1 of The Saga of Ragnfridr Hallbjornsdottir

The stallion stopped grazing, and lifted his nose to the breeze. ‘Rain coming’ his nose told him. Later in the day he began to lead his small herd out of the meadow, and slowly across the dunes towards a distant copse of pines. A ram, three ewes and their lambs were also in the meadow. Eventually they too responded to the horses’ exit and moved slowly after them.1

* * *2

Ragnfridr Hallbjornsdottir was the youngest, probably around fifteen years of age. Her older brothers, Radulfr and Hrafn, and her father Hallbjorn Hallbjornsson had sailed two days ago from Fårö to Gotland to trade, and find wives for the young men.3

She knew that they would be arranging a marriage for her, also. Custom dictated that she be betrothed soon. On Fårö, eligible males were few, and far between. The more heavily populated main island was the place for her father to look. The prospect of marriage didn’t impress her greatly. She loved the isolated life that their farmstead brought. 4

Fishing, crops, livestock, the gardens, all these things satisfied her sense of practicality. Housework was duty, not life. Farm work, though a necessity to sustain life, was a joy to her aboundant teenage energy. Besides, she was strong, competent, and certainly more responsible than her two elder brothers. Her mother, Ragnbjorg, doted on the two boys. Always had, Ragnfridr felt. Her parents just called her ‘dottir’. Her brothers called her ‘Fridr’ to mock her because she was plain, undeveloped, and strong. There had been another child, also a son, between herself and Hrafn. But he died in infancy, she’d been told. 5

With the men away for at least a fortnight, she and her mother had the farm to themselves. Cows to me milked. Cheese to be made. Food gardens to be tended. Fish to be caught, salted or smoked. At least keeping busy kept her mind occupied. Romance was not part of her social vocabulary. The life of a peasant farmer in the Baltic was not one of luxuries. And the freedom to choose one’s own mate was surely a luxury indeed. And she was not a dreamer, caught up in sagas and lore. 6

Part of her chores while her brothers were away were the fish traps and the nets. The farmstead was built next to a brook that emptied into a small bay. Over the centuries low tide fish traps had been built up of stones. Wading into the pools with a basket and trident she would collect any fish, usually herring, and some shellfish. Occasionally, when the weather was calm, she would take the rowboat out into the bay at high tide, hoping to catch some good sized cod. 7

The family had two boats. The little rowboat, suitable for coastal fishing; and the larger trade boat, capable of holding livestock or cargo. One person could handle the sailless rowboat. The larger vessel, with its cowhide sail and iron nailed planks required two rowers and a helmsman in calm weather. Normally the boats were beached well up on the bank of the stream.8

When she went fishing she took the youngest cattle dog with her to keep her company during the long hours. Today was warmish, and calm. She had rowed out just a bit further than usual. Hopefully to find a school of cod, and to get further from her mother’s voice. Chores had not sufficiently anaesthetised her mind, and she wanted solitude.9

There certainly was no mystery about marriage in her household. They all lived cheek by jowl in their log cabin. There was no privacy. And as the only daughter, Fridr was as weighed down with domestic duties along with her mother. At some forty-five years of age, both her parents were nearing the end of their life expectancy. Marrying off the children was as mush a necessity as it was a tradition. For Fridr, marriage would only be an extension of what she already knew or had witnessed. There was nothing prudish or refined about Gutar life.10

Fridr rowed until she could take her bearings from two points; and let out the pig iron weight she used as an anchor. She could see the cabin and outbuildings, about two kilometres distant. She had the whole afternoon ahead of her, to fish, talk to the dog, and think.11

Two iron hooks and short handlines she baited with pork rind, tied off on the oarlocks and dropped over the side. The net she unwound over the side as the boat swung slowly on its anchor. Wooden floats held one edge close to the surface. Fridr held the four lines that would turn the wall of net into a purse. She threw some rabbit offal into the water as chum, and sat back to wait.12

Klaufi enjoyed the fishing trips. As a puppy she had been extremely clumsy, thus the name, but had grown out of it to become a strong and hardworking animal. The two of them would go fishing, or exploring inland, whenever occasion allowed. Klaufi would sit quietly at Fridr’s side, then stand and give a low growl when she sensed, or smelled, fish near the surface. As Fridr would pull in the four lines of the net, Klaufi would grab as many as she could and stand tensed as a bollard.13

Today they had a long wait. The sun was warm, and Fridr removed her dress, and sat in her undergarments to catch extra sunshine. She looked at her teenage figure, not yet womanly, and hoped that her father would be unsuccessful in finding a suitor for her. She was still too much the tomboy to want to surrender that stage of her life.14

A slight chop brought her out of her daydream, and she slipped her dress back on, and turned her attention once more to fishing. Pulling up a hand line she found the bait gone. Something was around, and hungry. Rebaiting the hook, she let the line down again. Before she could get comfortable Klaufi began her alerting behaviour. Near the floats the sea began to boil from a school of herring. When the school was between the net and her boat she began to haul on the lines. Slowly the net began to form a purse around a portion of the school. Fifteen minutes’ work brought the net and its captives alongside the rowboat. Tying off two lines to keep the bottom of the net above the surface, she strained to bring the floats along side. 15

Strong and persistent from a life of hard work, landing the fish was not beyond her ability. Bit by bit she tipped more and more of the silver fish into the boat. Salted or smoked, the herring would augment their diet nicely. She was satisfied. Klaufi was in her element, chasing individual fish around the bottom of the boat. While she was stowing the net, diligent to keep it untangled, she felt the chop of the waves increase. All the while of the netting, she had had her back to the shore. 16

Once the net was stowed she looked around, only to see that the wind was rising quickly, and that a squall was about to hit. The rain and increased wind arrived as she was attempting to raise the anchor. The anchor was stubbornly clinging to the mucky bottom, and the wind was throwing the small boat around badly. She was soaked by rain and rising waves.17

Anchor finally up and stowed, Fridr manned the oars and aimed the bow at the distant shore. In the few short moments of raising the anchor she had already been pushed well off station and further out to sea. She was a seasoned rower, and enthusiastically pitted her strength into fighting the wind and waves. Ten minutes of rowing brought her tiring muscles; but not appreciably closer to shore. And, she was being pushed northwards. She wasn’t panicked. It would not matter where she landed now. She could always work her way back home along the coast when the storm past. Any Fårö beach would do.18

The squall turned into a storm of modest intensity as she kept rowing. Klaufi was curled at her feet shivering. Fridr’s back ached from the cold rain and the continuous rowing. She had no idea of the passage of time; only of the wind and waves, and intermittent rain, and the darkening sky. It seemed that for every boat length she managed towards shore, she was pushed northwards two or three. She was determined, but beginning to seriously tire.19

Additionally, every few minutes Fridr had to stop rowing and bail out the water from rain and waves. She lost more ground then. It was now too dark to see land; but she thought she must be nearer shore. She dropped the anchor weight hoping that it would touch bottom and slow her northward drift. None of the familiar vibrations signally bottom reached her. She hauled the anchor back in, and continued her rowing.20

Eventually, one or the other had to had to give. Either the storm would pass, or she would reach the end of her energy. Cold, hungry, utterly exhausted, Fridr finally slid off her seat and sank to the deck in a heap. Klaufi snuggled up to her, whimpering. Fridr absorbed herself in the rote repetition of bailing. The waves had never really threatened to sink the boat; just pounded it, splashing, slewing the boat around when she wasn’t rowing. Eventually, even bailing was beyond her strength, and she lapsed into semiconsciousness.21

Morning dawned, somewhere.22

For Fridr there was no dawn, only a heavy Baltic mist, almost fog. It obscured the sun so effectively that she could discern no sense of direction, or even an increase of light. The storm itself had blown itself out, rain wise. There was still a chop, and some pushing wind. But she was unable to tell its direction.23

Numb with strain and cold, Fridr looked about her as she came to full consciousness. Klaufi was by her side, much the worse for wear. Some of the herrings sloshed in the partially filled boat. Her bailing bucket road the swell, and travelled the length of the boat. She grabbed at it when it made a circuit past her. She began bailing.24

The rowboat was made of sewn boards caulked with tar and moss, had a shallow draft, keel, ribs, and two seats. The oars were strapped into the locks with leather thongs. There was lots of give, and the ability to ride waves well. The wind and waves, however, had done some damage, and the caulking here and there was beginning to loosen. Once she got the bailing under control she found her basket, lodged under the stern seat plank. Waterlogged and worse for wear, the basket contained a pig bladder of water, a hunk of cheese, and some flat bread. The bread was sodden and crumbled in her hand. The cheese was mushy and crumbling. She ate some and gave the rest to Klaufi. The water bag was still intact, so she had a draft, the cupped some in her hand several times for Klaufi to lick. In the basket was a small knife, which she used to try and reseat the loosened oakum.25

As the overcast day wore on the waves expended their storm energy, and the winds moderate. Until she could see the sun, and possibly a sight of land, it was not worth her while to row. Besides, she was still too weary to try. Fridr grabbed a couple of the herring. Cutting off the heads and gutting them, she gave two to the dog, and ate three herself. When the sun did not burn the mist off, Fridr resigned herself to the drifting, and got some uncomfortable sleep.26

That night a shower blew over. The wind increased marginally. She tried catching some extra water in the bailing bucket, but the shower was too brief. The fog rolled back thicker than ever. She spent the night thinking about how distraught her mother would be by now. And how annoyed. She hoped that she would work her way back before her father and brothers returned. She would have prayed to the traditional Gutar deities; but religion played little part in her family’s life. And, she was not a superstitious person; the opposite of her mother. But, she was spiritual, and often tried to fathom the origins of the creation around her. Unlike the capricious tribal gods, the real creator must be the ultimate high god, and of a different character to the various gods, fairies and demons of Gutar society. She wondered if that High God listened to prayers.27

The second full day was a climatic repeat of the previous; overcast and foggy. Still no horizon, nor fix on the sun. She repeated the water and raw herring meal for herself and the dog. Both were beginning to suffer from the chill, wet, and low nutrition. She knew she had to ration the water, because as many days as she’d already drifted, that many at least she would have to row back. The herring were beginning to go off, so she cut some up, baited her two hand lines and let them drift below the boat. The rest she threw overboard as chum. Within an hour she was rewarded with a small cod, fresh, fleshy, moist. The head and entrails went to the dog, while Fridr feasted on the flesh. Another cod hit the other hook later in the day. She kept it for the next day. 28

Check the caulking, bail, rest, bail, rest; the routine of survival. And survive she intended to do. She knew no true geography; but was well enough versed in Gotlandish lore to know that to sail in any direction in the Baltic would eventually bring her to landfall somewhere. If the boat held together, she would survive.29

If the boat held together. A boat made of rough sawn planks sewn together and caulked was workmanlike and durable in normal usage and repair. The current situation wasn’t exactly normal. The lashings were beginning to fray, the boards to travel, and the oakum loosen more and more. Fridr could not see all the wear, nor make proper running repairs. 30

* * *31

An arctic rabbit looked down from a dune on the scene on the stony beach. Catching sight and smell of a predator it hopped away to its burrow under a juniper bush.32

The waterlogged boat rocked gently to the soft lap of waves; each wave pushing it further up on the stone and sand foreshore. Fridr slept in the embrace of the rocking motion, until the grating of wood on the rocks became the predominant noise. Rising slowing to consciousness, she moaned. Alerted, the dog ran back to the nearly wrecked rowboat, jumped in and licked her master’s face until she was rewarded with a weak pat.33

Fridr struggled to a sitting position. The boat, what was left of it, lay parallel to the beach. The sea, now calm, clear, and reflecting the midmorning sun, lay to her right. She put out her left hand and touched the beach; scooping up rock, shell and sand. Too dehydrated to cry, she allowed herself a small smile through dry lips; and a thankyou to the unknown High God. Klaufi wagged her tail, and then ran off again, barking hoarsely at a distant seagull.34

As Fridr looked around a pair of mallards flew past at tree hight, and disappeared over the nearest sand dune. The beach stretched away to both horizons, bending away in a gentle curve. She saw no houses, no boats, no people on the beach. Staggering to her feet she got her balance after a few minutes. Grabbing the remnants of her boat she pulled it up beyond the high tide line, for the water to in out. The net she folded carefully and packed into the bucket along with the water bag and a knife.35

Standing back she looked the craft over. On one side the top plank had drifted away in the night when the lashings gave way. The two seat planks were gone as well. The oar on that side was missing. Caulking was missing or loose everywhere. It smelled of dead and rotting fish. It had only remained afloat because the weather had abated to an almost dead calm over the last night. A night she had slept away in her half-filled boat out of total exhaustion, not caring whether she awoke.36

Beach. Land. She was somewhere. But where? The mainland? Gotland? Fårö? Some strange country, beyond her insular knowledge? Fridr looked at the sand dunes, and decided to walk the beach rather than try the climb up those steep sandy hillsides. The sun was up, and no mists to obscure. The beach where Klaufi was chasing a seagull, again, looked the better way. 37

She thought she’d been adrift for four days, but couldn’t be certain. The second cod was their last meal. The last swallow of water last night. Her walk along the beach would be difficult, and would need to have a beneficial outcome soon. The dog ran ahead a ways, circled back, looked at her mistress, and then repeated the process for the next hour.38

Rounding a headland Fridr saw that the beach turned in another direction. She thought it must be about midday, as the shaddows were very short. By late afternoon she’d at least know the dirrections of sunrise and sunset. Walking now on a sandier beach with fewer stones, Fridr chose to walk on the wet sand for better traction. She saw more birdlife here. Mallards, seagulls, wading birds. She began to look for shellfish to eat, as the number of shells on the beach attested to that part of the birds’ diet. Wading into the brackish water she managed to find several clams. With her knife she pried four open and wolfed them down, sand and all. She gave one to Klaufi, who was used to eating clams back home. ‘More?’ her eyes asked. Fridr laughed weakly, and waded back into the water to look. Half an hour later the two of them were eating themselves sick on the beach. With eyes bigger than their shrunken stomachs, they still managed to pile up a tiny midden. Satiated, and with strength renewed, Fridr and Klaufi walked on.39

Set back from a small cove they spied a cottage. There was a path, of sorts, from the beach to the cottage. Fridr called out, but there was no answer. As they got closer, she could see that the building had a vacant look to it. There was a large midden off to one side half way up the path. Part of the thatched roof had blown off and sand covered the bottom of the doorway. The cottage was made of pine logs. Its one window was open with a storm shutter made up of stick framing and cowhide hanging to one side. 40

Klaufi ran inside before Fridr could reach the doorway. She worked her way around the one room cottage, looking for rodents. The window and partially unthatched roof provided plenty of late afternoon light. There was a stone hearth in one corner, a crude wooden table with the remnants of a candle, on it, two still usable stools, and two wooden sleeping boxes with loose straw matresses, very dry and univiting. Some wooden bowls, earthenware pots and a fishing knife lay next to the hearth. One iron pot sat in the dead coals. Lying on the edge of the hearth was a flint and a pig iron bar. Klaufi had cornered a mouse in one crib and was preparing to have a play.41

Fridr put the bucket on the floor, and her bag and own knife on the table, and looked around thuroughly. With the exception of the thatch, the cabin was well built. The logs were properly laid and caulked. The beams holding the roof looked strong. There were even some iron hooks in the walls, near the cribs, door and hearth. At least they had somewhere dry to spend the night. All they really needed was some water.42

Fridr called the dog away from its cruelties and went outside to scout around. She saw pine trees everywhere. There was a crude stone outhouse off to one side of a path; missing a roof.. She saw no well, nor any stream, though there were wildflowers in abbundance, especially orchids. She walked a big circle around the buildings, but found no sign of flowing water or a pond. Retracing her steps, Frida walked back to the shoreline; waded into the water and rummaged for fifteen minutes. Using her skirt for a basket, she collected another feast of clams. Eaten fresh and raw, they would provide some moisture. After their repast, she and the dog chose the lesser of the two undesirable cribs, and went to sleep.43

* * * 44

Klaufi’s barking awoke Fridr. She listened. The barking was coming from the cove. She climbed out of the crib and walked outdoors. Down on the beach she found Klaufi nose to nose with a seal. Several other seals were at the water’s edge. She called the dog to her. ‘Seals’. She placed that knowledge in her memory. Seals; skins, fat, meat, bones, survival. 45

“Water, Klaufi. Find water.”46

Reluctantly the dog left the seals, and headed back up towards the cabin. Following her nose, Klaufi set off inland at a modest pace, soon leaving Fridr behind. In her weakened state Fridr found the going through the sand dunes hard. There was a faint trail. Leaving a patch of pinewoods she came upon a meadow. She saw that in addition to wildflowers and some familiar herbs, there were patches of self-sown wheat and rye. On the other side of the meadow was a large stand of oak, yew, and hazel. 47

She called Klaufi. In a minute she bounded out of the deciduous trees and ran happily to Fridr. The dog’s muzzle was wet, paws muddy, eyes gleaming.48

“Good dog, good Klaufi. Water. Show me.”49

She followed the dog into the woods, and down hill into a dip below a tree covered hill. Between several trees was a very small patch of marshy ground. Not a pond, just a soak of moss and lichens, and some sedge. Small animal and bird tracks abounded. Klaufi had been digging at one end of the soak, and had been rewarded with a puddle of water. Fridr expanded the hole and watched as water slowly filtered in. She cupped her hands and drank for several minutes. Then she filled her water bag, and then the bucket. Klaufi had another go at the precious liquid, until a butterfly distracted her. 50

Fridr sat with her back to one of the oaks and did some hard thinking. She was half certain that she was on an island, and that it was not Fårö or Gotland, which were not the least as sandy as this place. If there were no inhabitants, then she was here until she could repair her rowboat, or the owner of the cabin returned. Or, least likely, her family managed to find her. 51

With last night’s sunset and today’s sunrise, she now knew the basic directions. She thought that the storm had driven her north. But she could recall no men’s tales of islands to the north. She took stock of what she had seen so far.52

She had a cabin; which with some minor repairs, would be more than adequate. She had her fish hooks, and net, two knives, a pot, and a water bag. She had Klaufi. The pine barrens were just that; barren of any thing but pines and scrub; but supplying pine nuts in season, and pine cones for the fire. A resource, but not sustaining. The stand of deciduous trees where she sat now was extensive. It would brovide fire wood, acorns, hazel nuts; and most importanly, water. There were seals, ducks and sea birds, for meat and eggs. From the meadow, in season, would be herbs, vegitable plants and grains. Ever practical, she weighed up her situation; and actually found it to her liking. If she was to be alone on an island, she would make the most of it.53

Calling the dog she had another drink from the soak, and then walked back to the meadow. Taking off her outer dress she used it as a basket. She spent several hours combing the field for any currently edible plants. Herbs, a few roots and some new ferns, enough for a meal. Something from the sea and they would be fed for another day at least. With that she headed home with her precious load of water.54

On reaching the seaward side of the meadow, Klaufi bounded off and would not come to her call. Fridr walked the rest of the ay to the cabin alone, her mind organizing the list of things she thought she’d have to accomplish in order to survive.55

As she neared the cabin, Klaufi trotted up with a hare that she had caught. “Good Klaufi, good dog,” praised Fridr. After putting her load in the cabin she took her net, the hare and her knife and went down to the beach. Klaufi following. At he water’s edge she skinned, bled and washed the hare in the briny water. Some small fish came sniffing after the blood, and Fridr tossed a corner of the net out and caught two, which she gave to Klaufi as her reward.56

The rest of the day was taken up by household chores. Throwing out the old and mouldy bedding, she went out and gathered fresh grasses for one of the sleeping boxes. After cleaning the hearth, she gathered kindling and old pinecones, and made a skewer from some green branches. With this she spitted the hare and began to roast it. The smell was tantalising, and only added to her hunger. Though a small hare it would make a most welcome change from fish and clams. She threw a few of the tubers she’d collected into the coals at the edge of the hearth. While that was cooking, she went out and spread the net to dry, and peg out the rabbit skin. Looking up at the sunset she muttered inchoate prayer of thanks and petition to the unknown God.57

* * *58

On the fragrant fresh bedding, and with a delightfully full stomach, Fridr slept late into the next morning. First project of the day was to scrape the rabbit hide. Down on the beach she cracked some stones together, not realising that her ancestors had done the same centuries before for the same reasons, until she got the edge and heft she wanted. After cleaning, she hung the pelt skin up to dry. Then she removed her clothes and had a dip in the waters to clean off the gore. From the cramps in he abdomen she knew she’d have a use for strips of the rabbit pelt by tomorrow.59

Grabbing her knife and water bag, Fridr said “Time to look around some more, Klaufi”. Klaufi had been quartering the beach, and responded to her young mistress’s comment by heading off inland with Fridr following. Eventually, after walking through scrub for a while, they entered another pine forest. Klaufi led them along a faint animal trail. Eventually they emerged at the edge of another meadow, this one predominantly grains. Klaufi froze and let out a low soft growl.60

A stallion, four mares and two foals stood feeding in the meadow. The stallion was a bay, the mares’ buckskins. Their black manes stood upright and a line of black hair ran down their spines. The small, sturdy draft horses all looked up when they heard Klaufi’s growl. “Russ!” Fridr whispered excitedly under her breath. “Skogsruss! Skogsruss!” she kept repeating delightedly. “Stay Klaufi, hush,” she commanded.61

Fridr greeted them as if they draft horses on her farm. Speaking softly she moved slowly towards the horses. The stallion’s ears went back in warning; but one of the mares started walking towards Fridr. Klaufi trotted up to the mare’s filly and sniffed with an enthusiastic wag of its curled tail. Fridr turned away to see if the mare would follow. Inquisitive, the mare plodded along behind. Fridr stopped and let the mare nuzzle her arm. She gently put her arm around the horse’s neck, scratched its mane and spoke gently. While this was going on Klaufi was gambolling with the filly.62

Eventually Fridr removed her arm, and the mare started grazing. The other horses had come to stand near Fridr, and were also grazing. The filly had tired of her game, and Klaufi had run off towards a grove of deciduous trees. She was barking. When Fridr tore her interest away from the horses and looked in the direction of the barking she could see some buildings among the trees.63

She started to run, which skittered the horses briefly. As she neared the tree line she could see that the buildings; a farmhouse and outbuildings, were in worse disrepair than her current abode. The house, though once well built, was clearly old and sagging, with a yew sapling growing up through the vacant roof. A barn-like structure was in a similar condition. Klaufi was inside the barn barking wildly. Fridr recognised her “ratting” bark. If she caught the rat she would be very pleased with herself.64

Entering the small building Fridr found a stall, which once probably held a cow. Along the opposite wall hung some tattered old leather tack, rope halters, and rusted log hauling chains for a draught horse. All the equipment her father had; only old and neglected. She couldn’t help but touch them, and remember home, lost only last week.65

In one corner some farm tools caught her attention. Rusty, but repairable, were a spade, a pitchfork, and a hatchet. The hatchet, though notched in the blade, could be re-honed, eventually. The pitchfork needed a new shaft. On the floor she found a small hand scythe, very worn. Klaufi was in the opposite corner worrying some rodent. Fridr piled the precious tools at the entrance to the barn.66

Leaving Klaufi to her natural calling, Fridr walked over to the tumbledown house. Clearly older than the cabin, the roof had collapsed under the weight of many winter snows. The door and shutters were missing. Animal tracks in the sand testified to recent feral inhabitants. She pushed some cobwebs aside and entered the house. Approximately the size of her family’s, its interior was devoid of the carvings and decorations that lifted her home out of drabness. There was no furniture, not even broken bits; no tools, utensils, not even rotten hay in the bed cribs. It was depressing, and she left.67

Klaufi was barking again; but from the woods. Following an animal track, Fridr walked into a small dell and found Klaufi happily lapping at a marshy pool lying in the cool shade of several oak trees. It was quite clear that the horses frequented this water source more frequently than the one she’d first located. She tasted the water. Not as palatable as the other, but more abundant. Perhaps, she thought, she should fence off the smaller soak for herself and Klaufi, and leave this one for the horses.68

She called the dog and clambered up out of the dell. At the top, winded, she sat on a felled log. Abandoned farm. Skogsruss, she knew, lived a long time. These could be the remnants of the farm’s herd. She was very good with draft animals, and had plans for these horses. 69

A rustle and bleating behind startled her. Herd dog that she was, Klaufi had found the sheep and rounded them up for Fridr. More skittish than the horses, Fridr let the sheep settle down. Klaufi crouched down to hold the flock between herself and Fridr; alert to any attempt to break away. Once the sheep were settled and feeding Fridr moved carefully towards them. They looked healthy, though totally unkempt. Their wool was very matted, dirty, shed in patches, daggy. She smiled broadly and thought of the woollens she could eventually make. 70

Horses, sheep, tools, more water, another meadow; all in the same day. If she had to live here, then any failures would be her own and not the lands. 71

From her current position she could see a very tall hill some distance away. She had surmised that this was an island; but she felt that it would be best to prove it. Klaufi let the sheep wander off when her mistress called. The horses were no longer in the meadow when she walked through. Working their way though a large pine forest, it was late afternoon by the time they assaulted the hill. Klaufi, though panting terribly, made a race of it, and won the top many minutes before Fridr. 72

The hill was actually a tall dune, held together by the pines and understorey. Fridr collapsed in a heap when she reached an equally tired Klaufi. Once rested she stood to get a panoramic view. It was indeed an island, though much larger than she had thought. There were several more deciduous and pine forests in the areas she hadn’t yet explored. The entire island was ringed with dunes. The shorelines were teeming with bird life. Despite the clear afternoon weather she could see no sails, nor other islands. At least she knew in which general direction her home lay. 73

Light was waning as she and the dog left the hill. She’d gotten her bearings, and was able to find the small soak easily. She refilled her now empty water bag, and followed the path back to the cabin.74

Tomorrow she would return to the abandoned farmstead for the tools. 75

* * *76

Knowing that Gotland and Fårö lay over the horizon to the south, and the mainland distant at the place of the sunset, several times a day she would stand on the beach and look for sign of a ship. The sense of disappointment the empty sea produced was tempered by the beausty of the island, and the challenges she faced. Most challenging was surviving the coming winter months. Fridr spent that summer and autumn preparing for it.77

Toil was nothing new to her, and every task mimicked ones down at home. Cut and bind grasses for the roof. Club a seal every few days for fat, meat and skins. Dig out ‘her’ soak and line the bucket-sized hollow with stones from the beach. Build a ‘fence’ of sticks and brambles around the soak to keep the horses and sheep away. Glean the meadows for edible herbs and plants. Harvest the rye and wheat, and gather hazel nuts, pine nuts and acorns in season. She even found some peas. Build s fish trap. Wade out at low tide and set the net. Clean and smoke the fish, some to eat, some to store. 78

She wove some baskets from sticks and grass. Sheared the sheep, laboriously, with the fish knives. Slaughtered and smoke the oldest ewe. Cured the skin for a blanket-*bunny*-coat. Washed and roast the acorns, and made gruel. Stored the hazelnuts and grains for winter in some of the baskets. Klaufi would see to it that rodents stayed clear of the house. Klaufi also did her bit by catching several hares; meat for the pot and fur for a rough sewn jacket and rabbit fur cap. From the sealskins she made knee-length boots, and packed them with grass for use in the winter months.79

The friendly mare she named Edel, and slowly trained her for halter and harness. As are most Skogsruss, Edel was a willing and gentle worker. The stallion she named Torsten. He took longer to come around, but eventually, he too yielded to a halter. The other mares, with younger foals, she left alone. Fridr used Edel to haul the wrecked rowboat through the shallows to the beach in front of the cabin. Without woodworking tools she was at a loss as to how to replace the missing planks. Baskets served as panniers on both horses when she hauled home her grain harvests. 80

Once, in late summer, ‘her’ soak dried up, and she was forced to use the animals soak until some rains refreshed the dells. She made a second water bag when she slaughtered the ewe. She kept a full water bag in the house from then on; alternating bags.81

* * *82

Fridr and Klaufi passed a quiet but productive first winter. She whorled the sea-washed wool clip to produce wool thread, then built a small, rough loom from branches. With clamshells filled with seal-fat and pine pitch sputtering as candles, she sat up most evenings weaving squares of homespun cloth. Using needles she whittled from seal bones, she was able to sew together a new dress, a blanket; and a small rug for Klaufi. 83

Using the iron anchor from the boat she was able to repair some of the damage to the hatchet. Much honing eventually brought up a sharp edge. She used the two Skogsruss to haul load after load of firewood. 84

Winter alternated wild and storming, and mild and sunny. On good days she and Klaufi would check on the horses and sheep. She found that the sheep had expropriated the barn in bad weather. The horses, with their winter coats, hid in the deeper woods, just as they did in Gotland. The snow was rarely so thick that they couldn’t paw up some grass in the meadows, or gnaw on a tender branch. The only time they really suffered was during and after an ice storm. Then, it seems, they moved in with the sheep. The vigour of their breed depended on their hardiness as half-wild horses.85

Spring was a time of great pleasure for Fridr. Not just release from her cabin, but for exploring. Having prepared a small plot of open ground near ‘her’ soak, she dug up some wild onions, tubers, used some dried peas, wheat and rye seeds, and planted a garden. This too she fenced off to waist height with sticks. She could tend it every time she came for water.86

That new year she explored the rest of the island, finding rookeries for birds and eggs, and a seal colony, both sources of which the harvested modestly. Her lookout for ships was always disappointed. Now the time became routine, though not really different from her home.87

As becomes farming, she faced her share of cuts, scrapes, bruises, lacerations, falls, and sprains. Torsten once gave her a good kick that sent her limping home to recuperate for a week. Once a shark got into the fish trap while she was collecting. It was small, but still gave her a fright. 88

Routines and time. She tried to keep active, with new projects. Anything to fight loneliness and incipient depression.89

She constructed a pen for the mallards she was able to entice off the beach; but released them when it was time to fly south. Expanded her ‘garden’ when the first season proved bountiful. There were so many insects; except mosquitoes, on the island that pollination was never a problem. And so many insect eating birds, that loosing her crops was no worry. She continued to shear the sheep and make homespun. 90

Time enough to break Edel to riding. She and Edel and Klaufi would take a basket of food and fodder, and ride the lengthy beaches for a day. Once they rode the circumference of the island. There was plenty of driftwood, but never any planking with which to repair the boat.91

* * *92

By her third full year on the island she had matured physically and emotionally from the teen that had been cast away. She searched the horizon for ships less and less often.93

Today was a water and gardening day. As the summer days grew warmer she watched her garden closely. The horses had new foals. The sheep more lambs, though she would butcher some soon. Her water soak had to last, as the animals’ was under greater usage. She cut some cabbage leaves and herbs to take back to the cabin. Klaufi had run off, presumably chasing some of the hares. No matter how many she dragged home, there always seemed to be some breeding does left. 94

Fridr heard loud barking coming from the direction of the meadow. Then she heard a horse whinny. Taking her bucket and greens, she began walking towards the sounds. At the edge of the woods she stopped short and stared incredulously. A man stood on the far side of the meadow. He was leading two mares. Klaufi stood between Fridr and the stranger barking protectively. 95

* * *96

It had been an easy sail up the western coast of Gotland and Fårö, and the twenty miles north to Gotska Sandön. The mares and ram had fared well. Hakon was first to spot the island. Thr row into the proper beach was an easy haul. They landed to find a damaged and unseaworthy small boatbelow the dune. Once well up on the shingle they put out a plank and carefully offloaded the mares, and led them through the dune and on to the cottage.97

The cottage was a sensation to the four men. Fish drying racks and an oven of rocks sat outside,. The building had been re-roofed, the tussocks around the cottage browsed down, a pen with mallards in it; all illiceted comments and conjecture. Inside was even more of a surprise. Clean and neat, dried herbs and tubers hanging from hooks. Woman;’s clothes hanging on another hook. The crude loom with a skein of homespun thread hanging from one corner. Woolen rugs on the dirt floor. A shelf of branches along one wall, holding baskets of dried fish, wheat, rye, pine seeds and nuts. One sleeping crib held fresh and fragrant bedding covered by two fleeses. The other crib held tools, baskets in the making, and the tack from the old farmstead. Freshly cut flowers lay in the open window frame. 98

“I smell a dog,” Hakon observed.99

“More likely its you,” jibed his brother Ingvarr.100

“Someone from the wrecked boat on the beach?” questioned Bjorn, the oldest of the four.101

“One person, a woman. A very talented woman,” observed the leader of the sailors. “She has done our cottage proud. Leave everything as it is,” he instructed. “Unload the boat and stack in by the cottage, while I loose the horses in the meadow.” With that he left and began to lead the two young mares into their new environment.102

Not knowing where he might find the tenant of the cottage, his intension was to lead the mares to the small soak to orient them to water, and then release them. He and his men would round up the existing herd after they had finished catching and salting a cargo of fish. The same with the sheep.103

Klaufi had smelled the strange horses at a distance and run to investigate. The sight of the man frightened her, and she began to bark and growl her warnings. The man advanced warily, and Klaufi gave a little ground. The stranger tried to calm the dog by talking quietly to her. It didn’t work, and he halted his progress.104

His first glimpse of Fridr came as she moved out from under the shadow of an oak tree. He observed that her clothes were a drab homespun. Her light brown hair was long, and unkempt. Her age was hard to judge, as she was deeply tanned and her face weathered. She wore sealskin boots similar to the fishing boots he wore. His overall impression was of a healthy, competent farmer’s wife coming home from her labours. He had guessed at her existence from the condition of the cottage. For her part Fridr had been unaware of the landing, and was struck dumb by his sudden appearance. It took her several moments to regain her composure and find a voice. 105

In an emotion edged Fårö accent she said, “I am Ragnfridr Hallbjornsdottir. Who are you and what are you doing on my island?” At the sound of her mistress’s voice Kluafi broke her guard and went to stand at Fridr’s feet.106

Politely the man answered, “I am Stigandr Eirikrsson. If we return to the cottage, then my crew will give you a feast, and we will tell you all our plans for the summer.” He untied the halters and let the mares run free.107

* * *108

Stigandr introduced Bjorn, Hakon, and Ingvarr when they got to the cottage. Klaufi let out a low growl, and sniffed at each man. From the fishing vessel on the beach she could here the bleating of a sheep. Stigandr explained, “My grandfather and father rotated breeding stock. We will take two mares and any foals, and the ram. The new stock will keep the herd and flock healthy. In a few years we will repeat the process.” 109

That afternoon they feasted. Fridr supplied fresh bread, smoked fish, nuts, cabbage and herbs. The fishermen contributed fresh water, salted meat, and some honeycomb; which Fridr had not tasted in years; and some mead. Fridr refused to drink the mead.110

Stigandr and his men, asked Fridr for her story. As seasoned sailors they understood the hazards she had overcome. They were all quietly impressed with her survival, and husbandry. Stigandr explained their fishing and animal husbandry schedule. Because Fridr occupied the cottage, they planned to sail to the east side of the island, repair the old homestead and use that as their camp. Most of the time they would be away fishing, coming back to smoke or salt the catches. 111

Over the next few months Stigandr came to visit about every fortnight to discuss her plans. The day they rounded up the sheep and horses to take back to Gotland, it was time for her decision. Stay or leave.112

* * *113

Hravn saw the cargo ship first, as it rounded the coast from the direction of Gotland and came pulling into the bay. It ran towards the mouth of the stream, giving the fish traps a wide berth. He called for his family and ran towards the stream, while the boats’ crew were pulling the craft up on the landing place next to Hallbjorn’s boats. Someone sat in the boat, with their back to the farmstead.114

One of the crew waved, and walked to meet Hravn. He was well dressed. “You are Hravn Hallbjornsson.” It was not a question. “I seek your father, Hallbjorn Hallbjornsson.”115

“I am Hravn Hallbjornsson,” answered the adult son, puzzled. He turned towards the house, motioned and said, “My father comes now.”116

Hallbjorn and Radulfr, followed by Ragnbjorg and Radulfr’s wife and child came to meet these unexpected guests.117

“My name is Stigandr Eirikrsson. I live in Gotland. I have come to talk with Hallbjorn Hallbjornsson, father of Radulfr Hallbjornsson, Hravn Hallbjornsson, and Ragnfridr Hallbjornsdottir.”118

“I have heard of you Stigandr son of Eirik. You have a good reputation on Gotland. You are welcome here. But I regret that we are not all here, as my daughter was lost at sea four years ago.” As they were speaking, the crewmen assisted the passenger to disembark. She was dressed in a dark blue dress with a hood, and wore a gold broach of a running horse. A dog appeared at the gunnels and jumped out on its own and followed the passenger. The woman walked up to Hallbjorn and removed her hood. Before him stood not the teenage daughter they had lost; but a fine and handsome young woman who’s tanned face showed great strength and sense of purpose, as well as the depth of emotion she was experiencing.119

Her mother screamed and threw her arms around Fridr’s neck. The father and brothers stood in shock, Radulfr’s wife hovered perplexed at the periphery. When the commotion calmed, Fridr’s father invited everyone into the main house. Ragnbjorg sent her daughter-in-law to her own, recently built, house for additional food.120

The afternoon and evening were spent in feasting and merriment as Ragnfridr recounted her years of enterprise on the island. Eventually, Stigandr raised the serious issue of Fridr. Stigandr was a widower, whose wife died in childbirth. He wished to make Fridr his wife. He, Hallbjorn and the brothers negotiated a bride price, agreed to terms and sealed the betrothal. 121

The entourage stayed a week for Ragnfridr’s sake, and then, reunion exhausted, sailed, after many parting tears, onward to her island to retrieve Edel for Fridr’s new home on Gotland.122

Until Stigandr died, every four years Fridr and their children would accompany the fishing boat to Gotska Sandön Island.123

* * *124

In 1967 a palaeobotanist from Uppsala University discovered archaic herb and vegetable species in great numbers covering the lee slope of a small dell on the island. The remnants of a heavily rusted spade were discovered in proximity to the plants. Chemical tests on the iron, soil samples and plant specimens indicated a pre-Roman Iron Age date. The composition of the iron was the same as that once smelted on Gotland. 125

*******126

Gut dag,127

Klaufi Vallhundsdottir128