* * *2
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.3
* * *4
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.5
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. 6
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 abundant 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 simply 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. 7
With the men away for at least a fortnight, she and her mother had the farm to themselves. Cows to be milked. Cheese to be made. 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. 8
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. 9
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 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 farm-side bank of the stream.10
When she went fishing she took the youngest cattle dog, Klaufi, 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 nagging voice. Chores had not sufficiently anaesthetised her mind, and she wanted solitude.11
There certainly was no mystery about marriage in her household. They all lived cheek-by-jowl in their farmhouse made of dressed logs. There was no privacy. And as the only daughter, Fridr was as weighed down with domestic duties as 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 much 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.12
Fridr rowed until she could take her bearings from two rocky points; and let out the pigiron 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.13
She baited the two iron hooks and short handlines with smoked pork rind, tied off on the oarlocks, and dropped the hooks over the side. The net, small enough to be worked by one person, she unwound over the side as the boat swung slowly on its braided sinue anchorline. 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.14
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 saw, 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.15
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 fully 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.16
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. Five 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. 17
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, snbapping at individual fish on 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. 18
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 together 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 being soaked by rain and rising waves.19
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.20
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 now.21
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 signaling bottom reached her. She hauled the anchor back in, and continued her rowing.22
Eventually, one or the other 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.23
Morning dawned, somewhere.24
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 the pale light. The storm itself had blown itself out, rain wise. There was still a chop, and some slight breeze. But she was unable to tell its direction.25
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 renewed the bailing.26
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’s 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, then 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.27
As the overcast day wore on the waves expended their storm-born energy, and the winds moderated. 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.28
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 mist rolled back thicker than ever, becoming a thick fog. 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, the opposite of her mother, was not a particularly superstitious person. 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.29
The second full day was a climatic repeat of the previous; overcast and foggy. Still no horizon, no 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. 30
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.31
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. 32
* * *33
An arctic rabbit looked down from a dune at the scene on the stony beach. Catching sight and unfamiliar smell of a nearby animal it hopped away to its burrow under a juniper bush.34
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.35
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.36
As Fridr looked around a pair of mallards flew past at tree height, 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. The net she folded carefully and packed into the bucket along with the empty water bag and a knife.37
Standing back she looked the craft over. On one side a top plank had drifted away in the night when the lashings gave way. The two seat planks had collapsed. 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.38
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, with no mists to obscure. The beach where Klaufi was chasing a seagull, again, looked the better way to walk. 39
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 that routine for the next hour.40
Rounding a headland Fridr saw that the beach turned in another direction. She thought it must be about midday, as the shadows were very short. By late afternoon she’d at least know the directions 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, and 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 shallow 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?’ the dog’s eyes implored. 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.41
Soon they spied a cottage set back from a small cove. 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 rough pine logs. Its one window was open with a storm shutter made up of stick framing and tattered cowhide hanging to one side. 42
Klaufi ran inside before Fridr could reach the doorway, and 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.43
Fridr put the bucket on the floor, her bag and own knife on the table, and looked around thoroughly. 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.44
Fridr called the dog away from its cruelties and went outside to scout around. She saw pine trees everywhere. There was a crude stone latrine off to one side of a path. She saw no well, or any stream, though there were wildflowers in abbundance, especially orchids. She walked a big circle around the hut, 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.45
* * * 46
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 thought; placing that knowledge in her memory. Seals for skins, fat, meat, bones, survival. 47
“Water, Klaufi. Find water.”48
Reluctantly the dog left the seals, and headed back up towards the cabin, where Fridr retrieved her water bag and bucket. 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. 49
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.50
“Good dog, good Klaufi. Water. Show me.”51
She followed the dog into the wood 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 gratefully for several minutes. Then patiently she filled her water bag, and then the bucket. Klaufi had another go at the precious liquid, until a butterfly distracted her. 52
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, less likely, her family managed to find her. 53
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.54
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 bucket and 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, fallen branches and pine cones for the fire. A resource, but not sustaining. 55
The stand of deciduous trees where she sat now was extensive. It would provide 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, vegetable plants and grains. Ever practical, she weighed up her situation; and actually found it to her liking. If she had to be alone on an island, she would make the most of it.56
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 of greens. 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.57
On reaching the seaward side of the meadow, Klaufi bounded off and would not come to her call. Fridr walked the rest of the way to the cabin alone, her mind organizing the list of things she thought she’d have to accomplish in order to survive.58
As she neared the cabin, Klaufi trotted up with an arctic 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, with Klaufi following. At he water’s edge she bled, skinned 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.59
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 pegged out the rabbit skin. Looking up at the sunset she muttered an inchoate prayer of thanks and petition to the unknown God she felt had put her here.60
* * *61
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 scraping with the stone, 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 her abdomen she knew she’d have a use for strips of the rabbit pelt by tomorrow.62
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.63
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.64
Fridr greeted them as if they were 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.65
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.66
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.67
Entering the small building Fridr found a stall, which once probably held a cow. Along the opposite wall hung some tattered old leather tack, rotting 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 to her only last week.68
In one corner some farm tools caught her attention. Rusting, 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.69
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 own 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.70
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.71
She called the dog and clambered up out of the dell. At the top, winded, she sat on a felled log to think. ‘Abandoned farm'; she mused. 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. 72
A rustle and bleating behind startled her. Herd dog that she was, Klaufi had found some 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. 73
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 land's. 74
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 early 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. 75
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. 76
The afternoon 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.77
Tomorrow she would return to the abandoned farmstead for the tools. 78
* * *79
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 beauty 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.80
Toil was nothing new to her, and every task mimicked ones done 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 and thresh 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. 81
She wove some baskets from sticks and grass. Sheared the sheep, laboriously, with the fish knives. Slaughtered and smoked the oldest ewe. Cured the skin for a blanket-
-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.82The 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. 83
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.84
* * *85
Fridr and Klaufi passed a quiet but productive first winter. She whorled the sea-washed wool clip to produce woollen 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. 86
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 home load after load of firewood. 87
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.88
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.89
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.90
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. 91
Routines and time. She tried to keep active, with new projects. Anything to fight loneliness and incipient depression.92
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. 93
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.94
* * *95
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.96
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. 97
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. 98
* * *99
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. The row into the proper beach was an easy haul. They landed to find a damaged and unseaworthy small boat below the dune. Once pulled 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.100
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 these drew 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. 101
“I smell a dog,” Hakon observed.102
“More likely its you,” jibed his brother Ingvarr.103
“Someone from the wrecked boat on the beach?” questioned Bjorn, the oldest of the four.104
“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.105
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.106
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.107
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. 108
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.109
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.110
* * *111
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 here. 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.” 112
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.113
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. 114
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.115
* * *116
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.117
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.”118
“I am Hravn Hallbjornsson,” answered the adult son, puzzled. He turned towards the house, motioned and said, “My father comes now.”119
Hallbjorn and Radulfr, followed by Ragnbjorg and Radulfr’s wife and child came to meet these unexpected guests.120
“My name is Stigandr Eirikrsson. I live on Gotland. I have come to talk with Hallbjorn Hallbjornsson, father of Radulfr Hallbjornsson, Hravn Hallbjornsson, and Ragnfridr Hallbjornsdottir.”121
“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 whose tanned face showed great strength and sense of purpose, as well as the depth of emotion she was experiencing.122
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.123
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. 124
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.125
Until Stigandr died, every four years Fridr and their children would accompany the fishing boat to Gotska Sandön Island.126
* * *127
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. 128
*******129
Chapter 2 NEW HOME130
Her second year on the island had been characterised by a wet summer and exceptionally cold winter. While the wet cool summer brought an abundance of water to the soaks, and even re-awakened several dry ones, it did not provide abundant crops. Fridr was grateful for her garden in the small dell, for it gave her some vegetables to sustain her. Winter fare was bland, nuts, acorn gruel, and dried fish. Twice she slaughtered a yearling lamb. The following year had not been so bad, weatherwise; but she had to work harder to rebuild her larder. Now, for the second time in her life, her world was in total turmoil.131
* * *132
The men went down to the beach, built a fire and slept against the dune, warm in the reflected heat. Even Klaufi left her, to spend a little longer in the company of people, and perhaps get another handout. This left Fridr feeling truly alone. The aloneness hit her like a hammer. She spent a restless night contemplating her future. Stay? Return home? And, was she safe with these men?133
Stigandr visited fortnightly to enquire after her wellbeing; or to bring her some smoked cod. He told her tales of the wider world; of the farms and villages of Gotland; of the mainland, and of the tribes to the south who traded with a new people called Romans. They traded for the amber that washed up on local beaches.134
Besides her brothers and father, and the few other farmers on Fårö, she had seldom seen men. Now she was the only woman on this island, and at the mercy of four men. She didn’t yet know if to trust them or not. Her culture required fair treatment of women. But her mother had filled her with stories of abuse and rape. This too added to her confusion.135
Stigandr was about a decade older than she, and weathered, as she was now weathered. Jovial with his men, yet always in command. Gentle with the animals. Hard working with the boat. She did not know what to make of his stories about villages and trade. She did believe him about the death of his wife in childbirth. That was a common enough event in her world. She had certainly seen it often enough with the livestock.136
* * *137
Klaufi began barking her happy bark and ran out the cottage door. Curled tail wagging, she escorted Stigandr into the cabin.138
“Good morning Ragnfridr Hallbjornsdottir,” he greeted formally. 139
“Good morning to you, Stigandr Eirikrsson,” she answered with some gravity. She knew why he had come. Today she must decide. Stay or go.140
In one sense, the decision was easy. She had been marooned her for several years, and no longer craved an isolated life. Yet, she loved her austere island and its animals. She had even prayed, to her unknown high god, for wisdom. Desire to be reunited with her family won out.141
“I will go with you,” she said simply.142
“Will you and Klaufi help us rounding up the animals? That is our last task.”143
The next day was spent in selecting the horses and sheep to be taken off the island. Klaufi was in her element, as Fridr shouted herding signals to her. 144
“In the morning,” Stigandr said to her as she began her walk back to the cottage.145
“In the morning,” she acknowledged.146
After a night of thought, she decided to leave everything behind except a basket, one extra dress, her sealskin boots, and the rabbit skin cloak. Some other person might have greater need for the cottage and its contents than she would.147
In the morning the boat was rowed around to Fridr’s side of the island. She took her basket and waded out to the now crowded boat. Klaufi paddled after her. Fridr handed Klaufi up to Hakon, and the basket to Stigandr; and then hauled herself aboard. She sat in the bow as the crew backed the boat out of the shallows and began the long pull for home. 148
The boat, larger and newer than her father’s craft, was crowded to the gunwales with barrels of salted and smoked fish. A ram and four sheep vied with two mares and three younger horses for space. Klaufi spent her time atop a barrel, nose to nose with the horses. When not there, she was in the bow, snapping at waves. Stigandr worked his way to the bow to talk with Fridr.149
“I landed in the middle of the island’s west coast,” she observed. “That means I could have easily drifted past the island.” 150
“You would have perished. There are no other islands, only many miles of open sea until the mainland. The gods made you lucky.”151
“I do not know about lesser gods, but after my years on the island I believe in one High God, who rules all. I will give my thanks to that nameless one.”152
“You have a strong mind,” Stigandr observed, “and a strong will. And I must negotiate with both today,” he smiled. “I need to get this cargo to my village as soon as possible. With your permission I would like to sail directly home, bypassing your farmstead on Fårö. Once I have unloaded I can sail back to your home.”153
She stood looking out to sea, and did not answer.154
“There is another reason for you to accompany me. It may be ill mannered, but I remember how my wife felt about her looks. You have been on the island several years. If you stay briefly in my mother’s house, then she can tend to your clothes and…” he hesitated… “grooming. You would be more…ah…presentable to your family.” 155
His awkwardness amused her. But he was right. Her hair hadn’t seen a comb in years. She’d used a knife to try and trim it, with invariably poor results. Bathing in the brackish Baltic water left a salt residue behind. Her clothes, though made with her best skill, were still those of a castaway. It would be humiliating, to her and her parents, for her to turn up looking like a slave from some piggery.156
“Agreed,” she answered. Then, turning to face Stigandr she smiled warmly, and added, “Thank you for your thoughtfulness. It wasn’t ill-mannered at all.”157
Stigandr brightened visibly and moved back to the crew.158
Fridr maintained her watch at the bow, detached. No longer of the island. Not yet returned to her home. Stigandr brought her some cheese and dried fish, and then she slept in the bow. They passed Fårö in the night, and she was spared that emotional challenge. 159
* * *160
At midmorning of the third day, they rowed into a natural harbour with a river emptying into it. There were several docks scattered along the harbour’s shoreline, and many fishing and trade boats. Each served a Baer laid out further inland. The river’s outflow seperated the northen settlements from the southernmost. The crew rowed to the southern groin. Here a plank dock was laid over stones a short distance into the harbour. On shore, set back from storm tides, two stone and wood barns stood on a knowl. Back from them stood a large farmstead. A true Baer, it covered several meadows, enclosed fields, homes, outbuildings, additional barns and sheds. 161
Several men came down from the Baer and began to help unload the boat. A plank was laid the short space between dock and boat. The casks of fish were rolled into the barns. Stigandr sent Fridr to stand in the path next to the larger barn. Klaufi danced nervously, waiting to work the animals. The horses were tied into two lines, and given over to Fridr’s care. She and Stigandr began the walk up the cobbled path to the Baer. Klaufi worried the sheep along behind. “This baer has been in my family for five generations. We call it Helmsbaer. To the north, on the other side of the river is Visbaer. It is older, much older and larger, than here.”162
As they reached the lower fenced meadow Stigandr instructed, “We will leave the animals here. He openned the ancient moss covered gate, and they released the horses and sheep into the paddock. Behind them the crew and farm workers were walking home, deep in discussion Fridr realised, about herself.163
On the left side of the cobbled path stood a substantial house. Stigandr said, “This is the home of my mother. I will introduce you, and she will care for you. Tonight there will be a celbration at my home.” He pointed up hill to a newer, and more substantial house.164
* * *165
Hvítastjerna’s slave girl openned the door as Stigander and Fridr walked up the path. Stigandr she recognised, and acknowledged with respect. Fridr she gawked at openly, as being beneath even her lowly estate. 166
Walking behind Stigandr, Fridr entered the largest, most ornate home she had ever been in. Axes, shields and swords, in bronze and iron, hung on the hallway walls. There were tables and chairs in abundance, covered with the skins of animals she didn’t recognize. On the tables sat silver trays and cups. The main fireplace, though unlit this summer’s day, was huge. There were back rooms, and a stairway leading to a second storey. The floor was made of flagstone, smooth from years of use.167
Hvítastjerna sat in at chair by a window, carding wool. She looked long and hard at Fridr, though not with disdain. Behind the poverty and shabbiness she saw the strength of character. Fridr held her stare. In her eyes she saw intellegence. Hvítastjerna greeted her son with warmth and love; then waited. Stigandr introduced the scarecrow that stood in his mother’s hall, “Hvítastjerna, wife of Eirik, this is Ragnfridr Hallbjornsdottir, castaway on father’s island. I have brought her to you for care before I return her to her family on Fårö.”168
“Hallbjornsdottir, you are twice welcome in my house. Your father was known to my late husband.” She called for her slave, “Ingr bring meat and cheese and bread. We have an honoured guest.” Ingr went to do her mistress’ bidding, wondering at the change of the scarecrow’s fortune. “Leave her in my hands, Stigandr. But have two of your men bring your late wife’s chest here.” A mood of pain passd his face, but he answered in the affirmative, and then took his leave.169
When Ingr brought the food she was ordered to heat a caldron of clean water. Hvítastjerna then held back her questions, so that Fridr could eat; but chatted away to her about the history of Helmsbaer. Only when Fridr was finished eating did she question her about her situation. Her admiration for the young woman grew, and she also wondereed if her son had an ulterior motive for bringing her here. 170
When Hakon and Bjorn delivered the chest, Hvítastjerna had them carry it upstairs. Then she and Fridr went to look through the chest containing Stigandr’s late wife’s wardrobe. They found several sets of undergarments, and two fine dresses that fit suffciently well for style. Then it was back downstairs for the shock of Fridr’s young life. A hot water bath. 171
In the flagstoned kitchen at the back of the house Ingr and her mistress washed Fridr’s hair thuroughly. Then rinsed and scrubbed her body, cleansing away salt and dirt from the island. Finally they rubbed her face and hand with a fragrant balm, the nature of which Fridr could only guess. Next came a haircut. Ingr worked for over an hour to comb out tangles and snarls, trim and shape Fridr’s hair into the right length for braiding. While this was going on, Stigandr’s mother was letting out the undergarments and dresses to better fit Fridr. She expected Fridr to fill out appreciably on a proper diet.172
Once Fridr was dressed in the fine linen dress Hvítastjerna said “Let us see”. The deep blue, almost black highlighted her eyes and auburn hair. She was so much different than when she’d arrived that even cynical Ingr was impressed at the transformation. A pair of sandleswas found for her. Fridr then assisted Ingr and Hvítastjerna to change for that evening’s feast.173
Lastly, Hvítastjerna took an artic fox fur cape from her own chest of clothes and wrapped it around Fridr’s shoulders. Tears welled in both women’s eyes, and Stigandr’s mother leaned close and whispered, “He needs you.” With that they began walking up to the main house. Klaufi, who had elected to stay with the horses and sheep from the island to keep them quiet, ran up and sniffed at Fridr’s new clothes, barking loudly. Then she trailed up to the house beside them.174
* * *175
As matron of the family, Hvitastjerna sat at the head of the table, with Stigandr on the left, and Ragnfridr, as honoured guest, on her right. All the relatives, workmen and their families, and the two house slaves sat or stood as there was room. A sheep had been roasted, pickled herring and fresh vegetables, all from the farmstead, were served. And honey mead to drink in abundance. After the meal, Hakon made up a saga of Fridr’s time on the island. With a deliberate lack of fact, and an excess of legendary animals and mythic events, he kept everyone hilariously entertained. The mead kept them mirthful.176
During Hakon’s long storytelling, Fridr went and stood behind Stigandr’s chair. When Stigandr realised that she was there he darted a look at his mother, who nodded slightly and smiled. He knew his mother well enough to understand her tactics. She was endorsing Fridr as a new wife for Stigandr. 177
In the morning Stigandr found Fridr and Klaufi standing by the lower pasture, talking quietly to the island horses. “Do you miss your horse Edel?” Stigangr asked gently as he came up behind her.178
“Yes, greatly,” Fridr admitted. “I would not have survived without the work she so willingly did; and the companionship she provided. Edel and Klaufi were great friends, also. Yes,” she said again as she rubbed the flank of one of Edel’s fillies, “I miss her.”179
“Would you like her brought here as a wedding present?”180
Fridr turned slowly, and looked deeply into Stigandr’s eyes. Her heart lept at the emotion of a free choice. She smiled at his shy smile, and answered a quiet “Yes.”181
“Then we will fetch her from the island after we have visited your parents’ baer.”182
Together they walked to Hvítastjerna’s house to discuss the betrothal. 183
*184
And thus it was that the following week she found herself reunited with the family who thought her lost and dead. Within just over a fortnight she was back in Vibaer preparing for a wedding.185
Chapter 3 THE NEW BOAT 186
Far to the south, captured Roman Legionnaires and Roman-provincial were being sold on as slaves from one Nordic tribe to another over trading routes that stretched throughout Germanic and the Scandinavian tribes. They could only look forward to a life of oppression and drudgery. Some wound up among the Ingwine, at the market where Baltic furs and amber were traded for the newly available Roman goods. One provincial was purchased as a concubine.187
* * *188
The wedding celebrations lasted a week, as guest came in from the farms and villages all over Gotland and Fårö. By tradition sacrifices were made at Vibaer to the pantheon of Nordic gods. Though Fridr did not enjoy it she held her peace for her husband’s sake; but silently prayed to the Most High God, whom she credited with her survival and great good fortune.189
Feasting and joy were the passage of the days. Her family was threefold joyful. Their daughter had been restored to them. They received a substantial gift from Stigandr. And their new in-laws brought them a rise in social status. It was a far better outcome than Fidr’s father could have arranged. 190
After the wedding, Hraven stayed behind to learn metalsmithing from Stigandr’s smith, and to get away from his brother’s wife. She and his mother were too much alike, and made life miserable for the menfolk on the isolated farmstead. Hrafn much prefered the active village life, and the large baer’s of the district. Who knew, he might find a more compatable wife than his brother had been saddled with.191
* * *192
Before the sailing season ended Stigandr had the boat repaired and made ready for a final trading voyage. Among the cargo were the farm’s best produce, barrels of dried fish, many furs and hides, and the small chest of amber that had been collected over the last year. He asked Fridr to accompany him to the islands of the Ingwine, where he would trade for silver and gold utensils and ornaments, and whatever these new Roman traders had to offer. Hrafn was invited, so that he could learn about any new smithing techniques used by the Romans. Klaufi invited herself as a matter of course.193
Stigandr, his regular crew, his new wife, and Hrafn left on a fair morning and rowed towards the mainland coast. They paralleled the coast southwestward until they entered a territory of large and small islands, and then turned northwestward. Stigandr and his crew had been this way numerous times, under both Stigandr and his father’s direction. But to Fridr and her older brother, this was an exciting and eye-opening cultural shock. Along the mainland coast there were dozens of villages, of various sizes, and towns, populous and well built. And more boats than either of them had ever seen. 194
Stigandr passed them all by, as he knew that among the islands of the Ingwine and the Jutes there was more to be traded. Traders from south, north and west would come to these islands. He also knew that from time to time there were those who came to steal, rather than trade, pirates who preyed upon the traders. It was not a peaceful age. Stigandr was no weakling, nor the crew men of gentle pursuits. For that reason, they came well armed, and expecting trouble.195
Before the voyage, Stigandr had gifted Fridr with a double-edged knife for her personal protection. It had a wonderfully sharp blade in a silver handle. The sheath was of leather, and strapped around the forearm. The sleave of her linen dress hid the knife. While she had never had to physically defend herself, she was more than familiar with the slaughtering, skinning and gutting of animals. Not in her society or in her own values was the violence of the age questioned. Self-defense was self- preservation.196
Early one morning, as they were working their way through a channel, a larger boat pulled out from a headland where it had been hidden in the semi-darkness. Propelled by six oarsmen to their four, it quickly made way towards them. Stigandr wasn’t foolish enough to consider these to be simple fishermen. Even pulling with all their strength they could not gain any headway on the clearly armed pursuers. When the other boat was about two lengths distant Stigandr ordered the port oars shipped, and those men took up their weapons. At the same time the starboard oarsmen dug in their oars. With his steering oar Stigandr turned their craft into the onrushing pirates before they could react. 197
Stigandr’s boat slammed into the side of the other craft, breaking off the oars on that side and knocking the crew about. Unfortunately, one of the pirate crew was able to heave a grappling hook into the Gotlanders’ boat. Hakon tried to cut the rope, but was stabbed when the pirate crew pulled the boats together. A second grappling hook was soon thrown across as the more numerous crew swarmed aboard.198
With Stigander’s crew occupied in fighting for their lives among the cargo, Fridr and Klaufi were cut off in the bow. The last of the pirates to board came at her with a roar. Klaufi clambered over some barrels, and clamped her jaws down on the man’s groin. He bellowed in pain and shock, and lifted his sword to kill the dog. Simultaneously, Fridr reached up her left sleave, and pulled out her knife. 199
Clutching it with both hands she dragged the blade deeply across the man’s stomach. Cutting through his thick leather jerkin, she used all her strength to continue the stroke until he was disembowelled. He dropped his sword to grab at his eviscerated gut. On her counter stoke Fridr drove the dagger into his temple below the edge of his conical helm. He fell backwards, straddling both gunwales with his lifeless body. It had taken only a few seconds.200
Enraged, Fridr and Klaufi turned towards the main melee. Seeing her husband wrestling with a man, she lunged forward and stabbed him repeatedly in the right kidney. Painfully distracted by this onslaught, the man became easy prey for Stigandr’s sword. He and Fridr, with Klaufi’s help, slew one other pirate. Heaving from the stress and exhaustion they sat down amidst the carnage.201
Hakon lay dying from his original wound; but a wounded pirate lay next to him. Hrafn and the other two crewmen had dispatched the rest. They bore minor injuries. Exhausted but smiling ruefully they too collapsed to their seats. After a few minutes they threw the bodies of the pirates into the enemy’s boat. The living pirate they disarmed, and left unattended with his dead mates. They carefully laid Hakon out amidst the cargo and covered him with his own cloak. Finally, they tied the larger boat astern, and began a sombre row towards their objective, an island not two kilometres away. 202
* * *203
Having to kill someone who was trying to kill her and her own did not trouble Fridr. Even the blood on her dress did not shock her. It could be washed. What troubled her most was Hakon’s death. She remembered the recent gentle mockery of his humorous saga of her years on Gotska Sandon. His humour and hard work would be missed. And he belonged to the baer as she now belonged to the baer. As Stigandr’s wife, she would be responsible for making provision for Hakon’s wife and children. She was glad that she could rely on the wisdom of Stigandr’s mother for the proper conduct. 204
It was a weary, bloodstained crew that pulled their boat up on the crowded beach. Several other boats were there, including a great river barge of a design Stigandr had never seen. Men were dickering in various languages, children running about, women talking or cooking. Trestles and booths stood in a meadow above the beach, where men in fine cloaks stood displaying their wares. Klaufi stuck close to Fridr everywhere she went, as the sights and sounds and smells of this island were so strange to her.205
Fine pottery, bolts of finely woven cloths, silver ornaments and gold jewellery, pots and pans of iron and bronze, cups and mugs of unfamiliar designs, amphorae of wine, tools, were all displayed. The bartering would go on for days, until an agreed value for the northern trade goods was established for each type of manufactured good. Stigandr thought how shabby his own possessions were, compared to the Roman goods. Fridr, for whom life had so far been barren of fine goods, was overwhelmed by the spectrum of the goods available. 206
Before trading could begin for Stigandr, he had to locate the local chieftain to report the attack by the pirates. Finding his father’s old friend Arnulf sitting by a fire talking with a Roman trader, Stigandr explained the situation. Arnulf called several of his counsellors, and came down to the beach to identify the raiders. 207
“Aye, we know these vermin; petty thieves, trade raiders, drunkards all.” He ordered the still living raider hauled out of the boat. Then he commanded his counsellors to assemble a Thing. Arnulf addressed the group of elders when they had gathered.208
“I am Arnulf Thorstensson, chieftain of this place. Stigandr Eirikrsson, the Gotlander, you know from his previous trading here. You know him as fair and honest in his dealings.” Pointing to the wounded raider, Arnulf said in disgust, “This vermin we know is Gnarr of the Jutes, who sometimes lives among us with his Roman slave girl. He, with Harald’s crew, attacked Stigandr’s boat this morning. One of Stigandr’s crew was killed. Only Gnarr survived of Harald’s men. I have called this Thing so that we may decide Gnarr’s fate. Our trading requires peace not thieving. We must protect our reputation or loose our trade. What say you of Gnarr?”209
Knowing that the debate could take several hours to reach a consensus, Stigandr and his people went back to their boat to retrieve Hakon’s body. His body would be cremated and the ashes returned to Gotland for burial. Local men had already hauled the raiders’ bodies out of their boat and stacked them on the beach. They too would be burned; but their ashes left to blow away into the sea. 210
Stigandr inspected the raiders’ boat. It was marginally wider and longer than his. It was also newer. Its construction looked stronger and better designed than his. He decided that he would claim it as wergild for the attack. Even if the trading were poor, the acquisition of a new boat would offset it. Standing at the bow, Fridr read his mind, and observed, “With this extra boat we can increase our trading, and bring twice the number of these Roman goods to Gotland and Fårö.”211
He smiled and replied, “Your first trading voyage and already you are planning for expansion. Perhaps I should let you pick what we will take back with us.”212
“Yes you should,” she answerd confidently. “How would you know what the island women want otherwsie? If their wives and daughters are happy, then the men will be free to trade with us for the things they want.”213
He smiled deeply, and climbed out of the boat. Clasping his new wife’s shoulder he said, “Already you make me twice glad.” 214
She leaned into his ear and whispered. “When our child is born you will be thrice glad.”215
* * *216
The Thing had decided to hang the dying Gnarr, and throw him into a nearby swamp as a sacrifice to the gods to protect the trading. During the debate, Arnulf had sent a boat to the next island to fetch Gnarr’s concubine. When she arrived they proceeded with the execution. Arnulf chopped of both Gnarr’s hands, and then had him garrotted; though he was dead by then anyway. The concubine, a girl about Fridr’s age, hurled abuse at Gnarr corpse; mostly in a language that Fridr did not understand. 217
When Fridr questioned this response, Arnulf explained that she was his slave, and that he had greatly abused her, often in public. He doubted that she would shed a tear over him. The counsellors dragged Gnarr’s body and severed hands the several kilometres to the swamp. After some ritual entreaties the body was heaved into the muck to propitiate the local deities. As the ooze swallowed Gnarr’s remains the satisfied islanders listened as Stigandr addressed the Thing.218
“You have done a good thing to cleanse yourselves. It has done you credit in the eyes of those of us who have come a distance to trade on this island of yours. Do yourselves more credit, and grant me this boon. In exchange for the death of my friend, give me the pirate boat as compensation.” Fridr leaned over and spoke into his ear. “Stigandr added, “And grant us Gnarr’s slave girl, also.”219
Arnulf and his counsellor’s consulted and he answered, “Two of Harald’s men had wives and children. Gift us a cask of fish to sustain them, so that there will be no ill-will between they and you. Then the boat and slave are yours.” 220
“This seems good to me also,” he answered. And, knowing that this was just an opening bid, he added, “and I will also give each family a cow hide.221
“Then it is settled,” Arnulf announced as the crowd voiced their agreement.222
Hakon’s body was burned with ceremony, and his ashes placed in a burial urn for transport back to Gotland. Stigandr, Fridr, Klaufi and the crew slept in the boat that night.223
Fortunately the breeze was from the southwest when the pirates’ bodies were burned.224
* * *225
Leticia rejoiced over the painful death of her abusive ‘husband’. Slavery was to be expected in a slaveholding world. But Gnarr’s brutality left her much more scared psychologically than did her reduction to the status of slave and concubine. She felt no remorse at seeing him chopped, hung, and flung into the swamp. But she was too stunned by the suddenness of the day’s events to clearly contemplate her future. Following the execution she had taken her small bundle of personal possessions and followed Fridr. She helped in Hakon’s cremation, and then assisted Fridr in making a meal. In all this she had been silent. As the day wore on towards night, Fridr began questioning their new slave. “Do you speak our language?” Fridr asked in her Fårö accent. 226
Leticia cocked her head to one side, trying to make out the strange sounds. She answered in the Ingwine dialect, “I can speak some of this people’s language.” Her accent was a strange to Fridr as Fridr’s had been to her. They both smiled awkwardly. Leticia tried again. “I am Leticia, daughter of Cladio Africanus, a merchant.”227
Fridr tried pronouncing Leticia’s name. “Lettija.”228
“Leticia.”229
“Lettijia,” was as close as she could get. “I will call you Letti,” Fridr announced finally. Fridr made Letti sleep next to her in the Gotlander’s camp, to show everyone that she was under her protection. Also, she was intraged by Letti’s olive skin, dark hair, and dark eyes. She had never seen a “Roman” before. 230
On the morrow, as the men began the long process of bartering, Fridr and Leticia began the onerous duty of cleaning the gore from the two boats. It took all morning. Fridr and Leticia chatted in mutual semi-comprehension. Fridr told her the names of the different trade goods, and parts of the boats. Stigandr had assigned Ingvarr to guard the boats, and begin to unload the cargo. He corrected Fridr’s Fårö accent when it differed too much from Gotlandish. At midday Fridr ordered Leticia to prepare a meal, while she went to find Stigandr. Together they rounded up Hrafn and Bjorn, and all went to eat the meal of cheese, bread and gruel that Leticia had prepared.231
The men finished unloading the boat and displaying their cargo on the sward for prosceptive traders. In ones and twos, or in small groups, the various traders from the south would inspect the goods, and barter an offer. Fridr advised Stigandr on the likely resale value for cloth, household goods, clothing and jewellery. She had an eye for good quality, and kept him from purchasing inferior goods, but deferred to his judgement on everything else.232
Fridr and Stigandr had already discussed the likelihood of Leticia being able to handle an oar. She was small and slight, and unfamiliar with boats. Fridr suggested that they barter for a male slave who could assist with the long row home, and then be traded to someone in Vibaer. Stigandr used the amber for this purchase. 233
There were several male slaves for sale, but Stigandr focused on one who, despite his battle scars and current deprivation, held himself with pride and confidence. “This one was a Roman soldier captured in Genrmania,” this slave merchant explained when he noticed Stigandr’s close inspection. 234
A quarter hour’s dickering secured the slave at a price Stigandr was willing to pay. When the party returned to the boats Letti was waiting with refreshments. She looked inquisatively at the new person, and then began to speak with him in a language the rest had never heard. Stigandr was wise enough to allow them to talk freely without interruption. When they seemd to have talked themselves out, Stigandr asked Leticia for an explanation. Her Ingwine was not really adequate, but the Gotlanders got the gist of the story. To their ears the slave’s name sounded like Clemenius. He had been captured in the same battle as Leticia, and where her father was killed. 235
Stigandr explained to Leticia, and she to the Roman, that he had been purchased to work in the boat, and provide defense if they were attacked by other pirates. He acknowledged this role, and through Letti, assured Stigandr that he was a man used to obeying orders.236
On the journey home, Fridr decided to gift Letti to Hakon’s widow as compensation.237
* * *238
Despite the wealth and prestige the voyage brought, Fridr’s adult life was not a happy-ever-aftering. Real life brought problems to be solved, challenges to be overcome, and tragedies to live past.239
Though near term, on the day her first child was born, Fridr walked out to the horse pasture to talk with her mare. As she was stroking the mare’s mane Fridr felt the child move and drop lower. As she left the pasture, Fridr’s water broke, and her contractions started. She managed to reach her mother-in-law’s house, where the two women helped Fridr deliver a baby boy. Stigandr named him Eirik. Two years later a girl was born, whom Stigandr named Hvitastjerna, after his mother. Those two children prospered. But their births were followed by a miscarriage and a stillbirth.240
Materially, Stigandr prospered by Fridr’s advice, and he expanded his number of boats. The ex-pirate boat, with its larger cargo capacity, became his main trading boat. The old boat was relegated just to fishing, and with his second season’s trading profits he built a second trading boat, and expanded his trade with the mainland.241
Hrafn eventually married Hakon’s widow, who though a few years older, proved to be an excellent match for his craftsman’s work ethic. 242
When the children were five and three, Stigandr’s mother died. For many months he was sombre and withdrawn, much to Fridr’s heartache. Their regular family sojourn on Gotska Sandön Island brought him out of his grief, and he and Fridr made plans for expanding the baer. They would add another store house, and extend their trading far to the north, to the Saami tribes. 243
Not just Stigandr, but many Baltic mariners were becoming rich through the cartage of Roman trade goods. The various tribal elites were more than happy to acquire fine Roman goods, wines, even furniture. And as trade increased, raids on trading boats increased. 244
Fridr and Stigandr had been married twelve years when her life changed again. First, her beloved Klaufi died. Stigandr, now in his forties, had delelgated more and more of the trading voyages to Bjorn, while he did more of the fishing. But this season he felt a need to be voyaging, and captained a trip to the land of the Jutes. On the way back, just two days south of Gotland a pirate boat found them in a fog. 245
Clemenius, of a similar age to his master, proved his loyalty by valiantly defending Stigandr, though in the mele Stigandr was eventually wounded. The attackers were repulsed, but all of Stigandr’s crew had received wounds. When the boat limped back into the harbour the wounded crewmen were taken to the main house for care. Though Fridr nursed Stigandr day and night, though minor, his wounds were infected and he died within a week. On his deathbed he set his Roman slave free.246
Fridr ran the farm and the trading business until her son was mature enough to take over. During this time, her favorite mare died. When Eirik married, Fridr moved into her late mother-in-law’s house, and watched her family grow. One winter’s evening she complained of a severe headache; and was found dead in her bed the following morning. 247
Cremated, her remains were placed in a burial urn, and held for the summer. All the boats, and all the adults attached to the baer travelled to Gotska Sandön for the burial. The bones of her horse and dog were carried also. And, her most precious jewelery.248
Her daughter, Hvitastjerna Stigandrsdottir, remained a month at the cottage, to mourn her mother, and to better understand how this island had shaped her mother’s life. 249
* * * *250
Sadly, cultures change and turmoil overtakes all societies. In the Viking era Fridr’s line died out. And, Gotland became a haven for pirates. 251
Over the intervening centuries Gotska Sandön Island was coloniesed and then abbandoned several times. The wood and thatch, foodstuff and bare furniture of the cabin had burned, or rotted away by then. But the hearthstones remained, as did the rusted remains of bronze and iron implements.252
In their third summer of excavations, archaeology students from Uppsala uncovered a small find near the southern beach. Discolouration in the soil, the hearthstones, and nearby midden indicated the presence of a dwelling. The rusted tools eventually brought a dating of 1AD, +/- 50 years.253
Even more staggering was the discovery, by way of a magnetic anomaly, of a bronze funeral urn buried in the smaller pasture area. The ashes gave no clue to gender. The urn itself, though bronze, was decorated in a style of the early roman-contact era. But buried along with the urn was a small iron framed chest, the wood of which had rotted away. It contained a woman’s jewellery, mostly silver broaches and pins. A pin of a running horse was especially well crafted. Also contained in the trove was a rusted iron iron dagger with a silver handle.254
Buried beside the urn were the ashes and bones of a dog, and of a small horse.255
Obviously, this was the burial site of an important woman. The archaeologists estimated the burial as in approximately the same time frame as of the house site. The material objects were taken to Uppsala for cleaning and preservation. 256
The End257
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