The Hand of the Viking Warrior Page 2
The farmers looked at the meat in their hands, or at their knives, or into the ashes, or looked up at the birds overhead. No one met the eyes of Karlsefni. A farmer muttered, “I would do it but my family need me to pull our cart.”
His wife said softly, “I would do it, but I’m too slow – I got a thorn in my foot yesterday.”
At last, young Skirnir stepped forward.
Karlsefni grinned. “Skirnir!” he cried. “This brave lad shows us the courage of a true Viking. Skirnir? You will stand by the broken cart and lead the Skraelings away?”
Skirnir shook his head. “No, I was just going to say … the job should go to the fastest runner in the village. They would have the best chance.”
“And that is you?” Karlsefni asked.
“No, it’s my sister … Irpa.”
Chapter Seven
The Attack
Irpa didn’t sleep that night, or the night after. Her brother had put her in this danger. She was angry with him and afraid of the Skraelings.
She tried not to show it to the others. The villagers had cheered for her and given her gifts of honey cakes and a shawl of finest wool. “Our Tiw,” they called her.
At the second sunrise, the watchman ran into the village. “The Skraelings are coming!”
“How many?”
“Two hundred or more.”
The villagers dressed quickly and loaded their carts. They gathered their animals and began the slow walk east to the ships.
Freydis gave her daughter a crushing hug. “Be brave, my Tiw … and I’ll wait for you on the last boat to leave.”
“I’ll wait, too,” Skirnir said.
“Thank you,” Irpa said bitterly.
As the last villager left the village, the girl ran up the hill to where the broken cart was waiting. To the west, she saw a cloud of dust and two hundred marching Skraelings.
When they reached the ridge to the west of the village, Irpa began to scream at the trees, “Run, my friends. Run! The Skraelings are coming … run and hide in the trees! And I am making lots of noise because the Skraelings won’t understand anyway!” she added.
The Skraeling scouts looked towards her. They put their heads together. Half of the native warriors were sent to search the village. Irpa trotted towards the trees.
At the edge of the forest, she looked back one last time. The huts were burning and the army had turned towards her.
Irpa ran.
The paths were soft and damp and her bare feet sped along into the green gloom. Angry voices sounded behind her. They sounded close.
She reached a clearing where the sun broke through to the forest floor. It was morning so the sun would be in the east. If she kept the sun ahead of her, she would reach the ships.
Irpa turned. There were fewer voices now. She slowed and looked back. Then, between the trees, she saw a single Skraeling. He was fifty paces away. He was not much older than Skirnir. Even if he caught her, he couldn’t hurt her much.
But the boy turned when he saw her. He let out a screech that would make the blood of Karlsefni’s bull run cold. That would bring the whole army after her.
The boy was as quick as a deer. Irpa knew she couldn’t head east. She would lead the Skraelings straight to the Viking ships.
“What would Tiw do?” she moaned.
Irpa turned north again. The change worked. The boy lost sight of her. Irpa slowed to a walk so her feet wouldn’t make a sound on the dry, fallen branches. She heard older warriors arrive and talk to the boy.
Then there was the scurry of squirrels behind her. Someone had scared them. Someone was coming her way. Irpa turned and ran north.
Chapter Eight
The Forest
Irpa felt she had run for ever. Then, at last, she came out of the northern edge of the wood. It was quiet here on the grassy plain. To the east she could see the ocean sparkling in the morning sun.
She had run so far the Vikings must be safely away by now. She trotted wearily down towards the coast.
A westerly breeze was blowing at her back. She saw it filling the sails of a Viking ship as it headed back to Greenland. She knew there were four ships – she had helped to load them the day before.
A second ship drifted silently past and she was still a mile away. Then she saw the third ship following and she thought her heart would stop. They were leaving without her!
She remembered Tiw. Yes, he’d saved the world, but it had cost him a hand. Irpa had saved the villagers of Vinland, but it might cost her a life.
The land sloped steeply towards the beach. She could see the last boat, pulled up on the shore. She tried to run, but the sand was soft and seemed to suck down her weary ankles.
Where the sea lapped at the sand, it was firmer. Irpa splashed through the cool water. She raised her head and saw the sail being raised. Her friends hadn’t seen her.
“Wait!” she screamed.
The sail stopped, then began to lower. Irpa ran on.
“Hurry!” the Vikings called. They were pointing.
The girl looked over her shoulder. The Skraeling boy had reached the shore. He was running after her. He was stronger than she was. He was catching her.
Suddenly, a cloud of arrows rose from the Viking boat, sailed over Irpa’s head and sank into the sand around the boy. The native stopped. He pulled an arrow from a pouch at his back, loaded the bow and took aim at Irpa.
She watched the single arrow race towards her and she dived into the shallow water. She felt feathers brush her cheek and saw the arrow splash down beside her.
Irpa scrambled to her feet, and as more Viking arrows drove the boy back, she reached the side of the boat. Freydis and Skirnir gripped her wrists as the Vikings hauled the sail up the mast again. The breeze tugged at the boat and it slid into the water.
Irpa turned and looked back at the native. He stood in the shallow water with his hands on his hips. He was panting.
“It was a good race,” Irpa cried.
The boy did not speak Norse, but he seemed to know what she was saying. He grinned and waved a hand. Irpa waved back. She watched him till he was as small as a grain of sand.
The forests were a deep green and the plains a softer shade. Freydis sighed. “Back to the icy rocks of Greenland. This is a rich country we have found, as Thorvald said.”
“But it isn’t our rich country,” Irpa said.
“No,” her mother agreed.
“You said you didn’t believe in Skraelings,” Skirnir said.
“And you said the Skraelings would get me,” his sister reminded him. “But they didn’t, did they?”
Epilogue
The Vikings arrived in Vinland, the land we now call North America, around 1001. Many people believe Christopher Columbus “discovered” America in 1492, but Lief Ericson was there about 500 years before him.
The native Americans were peaceful towards them at first. They caught wild animals like squirrels and traded their furs for Viking milk and cloth. But in 1004, Thorvald arrived and started attacking the natives. Thorvald died in the war that followed. His last words were, “This is a rich country we have found; though I will not enjoy it.”
In 1009, a Viking group arrived to settle with their leader Karlsefni. They didn’t stay long. One story says the Skraelings were peaceful until they were attacked by Karlsefni’s bull. The Vikings gave up trying to settle in America and went back to Greenland. We can’t be sure why the last Vikings left. Maybe the wars against the native Americans were too vicious for the Viking farmers and their families. Not all Vikings were warriors.
One strange Viking legend is about Tiw and the wolf Fenrir snapping off his hand. Tiw is a Viking hero and one day of the week is named after him – Tiw’s Day – Tuesday.
First published 2010 by
A & C Black
Bloomsbury Publishing Plc
50 Bedford Square, London, WC1B 3DP
www.acblack.com
This electronic edition published in March 2012
by Bloomsbury Publishing Plc
Text copyright © 2010 Terry Deary
Illustrations copyright © 2010 Helen Flook
The rights of Terry Deary and Helen Flook to be identified as the
author and illustrator of this work have been asserted by them in
accordance with the Copyrights, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
ISBN: 978 1 4081 9801 8
A CIP catalogue for this book is available from the British Library.
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