Across the Sea by Alan Eiland (best motivational books for students .txt) 📖

Across the Sea

Leif sat tensely at the oaken table, clutching his silver drinking cup, the golden mead slopping over the edges. On his trencher was a generous helping of rakfisk, a dish of raw fermented trout. Leif greedily ate the fish with his right hand, his left hand clutching the handle of his long knife, made of whalebone. He was nervous, and for good reason. His father, Erik the Red, was a powerful man, having discovered Greenland and ruling the settlements he founded. But Erik was also an outlaw from a line of outlaws, banished from Iceland at the age of 32 for the murder of 2 men, just as his father was banished from Norway for murder. So Leif’s family had lots of enemies and when he was away from the family estate of Brattahlid, as he was on this night, he had to be careful. Thus, he ate like a hawk, his elbows sticking out at violent angles, protecting his food, sitting near the door. He was the only tense one in the mead hall, the other Norsemen relaxed, drank, quarreled, belched, proposed toasts, and swore oaths. As the revelry reached a climax, the door opened and the action stopped. Men froze with forks in mouth, cups in hand, fists raised, blade partially drawn, all staring towards the open door, frozen, though not from the Greenland air, bitter cold, even in summer. In the doorway, silhouetted against the green and red glow of the Aurora, stood a man. He wore long trousers of wool, a buttoned kaftan, and a long coat, trimmed with the fur of a polar bear. The cloak was fastened with a silver pin. His hair hung to his shoulders, it was a dirty white. His beard spilled over his broad chest and he wore a peaked woolen cap on his head. His eyes were a piercing grey and he had a large axe slung over his shoulder. His name was Bjarni Herjolfsson and he was considered by the men of the Eastern Settlement, known as Estribygd, to be insane.
About ten years prior, Bjarni had come from his native Norway to visit his father in Greenland. On that journey, he claimed to be blown astray by a wind sent by “Odin himself” and reach a strange land to the west, though he never landed there and miraculously found his way to Greenland. From that point on, he had traveled the land, telling anyone who would listen, as well as those who wouldn’t, about a fabled land of rolling green meadows that lay to the west. Most of the men dismissed it as folly, but Leif was sympathetic towards the old man. This put the two on speaking terms, which is why Bjarni decided to take his seat beside the overly tense Leif. He was immediately presented with a plate of seal meat. Leif grimaced as he saw the jiggling blubber.
“Why are you eating that?” he asked, recoiling at the scent of the meat.
“What?” Bjarni asked, spearing a hunk of fat on his knife.
“The seal meat. It’s summer, you don’t need to fatten yourself up, there is plenty of food.” Leif said.
“Tastes good.” Bjarni said, popping the blubber into his mouth and savoring the taste. He chewed, swallowed, and took a swig of mead. He belched, then spoke.
“I have a proposition for you!” Bjarni boomed, his voice like the roar of a great ice bear.
“What?” Leif said, his own slender form dwarfed by that of Bjarni.
“I know you are interested in traveling west.” Bjarni said. Leif looked puzzled, raising one blazing red eyebrow. But he allowed Bjarni to continue.
“Buy my ship. I will give you a discount. Just give me forty furs and you can have my ship, and my crew. All you have to do is sail west. It is a bargain price!” Bjarni said.
“Though the offer is tempting, I have no intention to travel.” Leif said, shaking his head. Bjarni nodded.
“Ah, I see, the blood of your father does not flow in you veins. I should have guessed. Perhaps I should talk to your brother, perhaps he is less of an argr!” Bjarni said, shaking his head sadly. Leif immediately leapt to his feet, knife in hand.
“How dare you compare me to a woman, call me a coward! I should kill you for that, the law allows it!” Leif roared.
“Let us meet at dawn tomorrow then, argr! A duel, single combat!” Bjarni bellowed back. Leif then stormed out of the mead hall, furiously.
The next day, Leif and Bjarni stood face to face on an icy field. Both men were armed to the teeth, Leif clutching a sword in his left hand, his right hand bearing a round shield. His head was covered by a conical helmet with a noseguard. His chainmail hung around his wiry form, stiff in the cold air. Leif looked formidable, but Bjarni was simply terrifying. His helmet had spectacle eyepieces and a long nosepiece. His beard was sparkling with hoarfrost, his mail glistened with ice. He wore his cloak of bear fur and wielded his great battle axe. Leif was tired. He had woken early this morning to travel to the small island on which he now stood.
“Let’s go over the rules.” Leif said.
“We shall fight until one man cedes to the other and then the victor shall have his way with the loser.” Bjarni boomed.
“Agreed!” Leif said. The men nodded to each other, then began to circle. Leif darted in, slashing with his sword, only to be repulsed by a crushing axe blow that smashed his chainmail, bruising him. Bjarni then began a heavy assault, his strength so great he wielded the axe in one hand. Leif dodged the first few blows, taking the rest on his shield. The jarring force of the blows shuddered up his arm, jarring his teeth and knocking him to his knees. Bjarni continued his barrage, bringing down his axe in powerful overhand blow. Leif rolled out of the way and the axe cleaved into the ice, lodging. Leif then rammed at Bjarni’s leg with his shield pushing him back. The shield’s iron boss slammed into Bjarni’s calf drawing blood. Bjarni bellowed in rage, hurling his full weight on Leif, pinning him to the ground and abandoning the axe. Leif gasped for air, slamming his right hand into his opponent’s throat and boxing his ears aggressively. Bjarni bellowed again, this time delivering a sharp sucker punch to Leif’s ribs. But Leif fought back, delivering jabs with his left, while strangling with his right. Bjarni hefted himself off of Leif, while at the same time, kicking away Leif’s sword, which lay discarded on the ground. Leif drew his knife and picked up his shield, while Bjarni dislodged his axe and swung it again. This time, Leif ducked the first blow, slashing violently with his knife. But the blade failed to break the chainmail. Bjarni kicked Leif back and slammed him with the head of the axe, knocking him back, then hit Leif with a savage chop to the stomach, drawing blood. Leif howled in pain, but continued to fight, leaping in once more and jamming his knife into Bjarni’s belly. He withdrew the knife, realizing that he barely pierced the chainmail. So he stabbed again, but was pushed away. Bjarni swung his axe and Leif blocked with his shield. The blow lifted him of his feet. Leif came crashing to the ground beside his sword. Leif quickly flung his knife at the advancing Bjarni. The blade lodged in Bjarni’s arm. Leif then picked up his sword in time to block a two handed blow that would have taken of his head. Instead, the blow ripped the sword from Leif’s hand. Leif leapt at Bjarni, removing his knife from his opponent’s arm and trying to stab Bjarni’s eyes before being thrown the icy ground and kicked. Something snapped in Leif’s ribs and his eyes rolled back in his head. Leif’s rich red blood soaked the ice. He raised his hand.
“I surrender.” Leif said. Bjarni nodded then lifted Leif on his shoulders.
“Aren’t you going to kill me?” Leif asked, tears streaming down his face.
“No. You are going to buy my boat and sail west. For now, I am taking you to a healer.” Bjarni said. Leif whimpered, then fell unconscious, the blood loss making him faint.
When Leif awoke, he was in a dark house, with a big-boned blonde woman standing above him. She was applying a poultice to his stomach wound. Sprigs of comfrey were pressed to his ribs and to the back of his head, for it was purported to stop infection. Then another woman with dark hair came to him, bearing a cup of mulled wine, spiced with bog myrtle, to help dull the pain. Leif attempted to sit up but the blonde pushed him down.
“Do not move.” the woman said gruffly. So Leif allowed the dark haired woman to pour small amounts of the hot wine down his throat. This was alternated with a soup of mutton and mushrooms. As Leif finished the soup and wine, a change came over him. He immediately fell into a coma, brought on by the bog myrtle. He felt a floating sensation, followed by a pull and suddenly, he was looking at his own sleeping face. He had heard of these experiences, he had met many a shaman that used the herb to enter a trance, to “speak with the gods.” So Leif was not surprised to find himself detached from his body and instead looked at the medical procedure.
A healing rune, carved in a piece of walrus ivory, was placed under his pillow. The blonde woman performed chants and dances, sprinkling herbs over his still form. The dark-haired woman sang in a clear voice:
Phol and Wotan went to the woods;
then Balder's horse had sprained its foot.
So sang Sinthgunt, and Sunna her sister;
so sang Frija, and Folla her sister;
so sang Wotan, as he well could:
Be it bone-sprain,
be it blood-sprain,
be it limb-sprain:
bone to bone,
blood to blood,
limb to limb,
so that they linked be!
As she finished the song and the blonde woman finished her sprinkling of herbs, the dark haired woman opened shoved a cluster of herbs under Leif’s nose. Suddenly, Leif was back within his body, reeling from a burning sensation in his nose. He shook himself, letting the sprinkled herbs fall to the floor and slowly stood. He thanked the healer women and stepped from their smoky longhouse, into the bright sunlight. He found himself on a grassy hill in a small village in Eiriksfjord, near Leif’s home of Brattahlid. A cluster of small farms, dotted with cows, surrounded a village square consisting of a meadhall, trading post, and a small church. Leif spotted Bjarni outside the trading post and walked to him.
“What are you doing here?” Leif asked.
“I was stocking your supplies for the journey. My ship is docked in Brattahlid, we will travel there to receive the blessing of your father. But first, I will buy food and furs for the journey.” Bjarni said, entering the store.
It was a long room with a high ceiling, filled with smoked fish and seal meat hanging from the rafters, barrels of ale, mead, and water stacked in against one wall, and furs piled on long tables throughout the shop. Bjarni walked among the furs, with Leif close behind, grabbing samples of sable fur, polar bear fur, seal fur, wolf fur,