excerpt
Finten’s eyes lit up. “We know that all things work together for good to them
that love God.”
Quotations from the writings of Saint Paul would have to wait for now. Illska,
a rough Norseman, interrupted the monks’ conversation. Berach and Brógán were
about to be stripped of their religious garb, shorn, scrubbed, collared, and inducted
into their new station as thralls to Nordic masters.
With a steady breeze driving the knarr westward, Finten and the Brothers prayed
silently. Apart from bailing bilge water, the monks’ only other duties were to keep
the sheep pens clean and to portion out the animals’ fodder and fresh water. With
those tasks performed, they were left in peace to recite their prayers, as long as they
did so in silence.
Norsemen, sprawling shirtless in the afternoon sun, distracted Finten from his
meditation. He struggled with the persistent flashbacks of naked Norsemen during
his early days as servant to similar ruffians. Several sailors took turns tossing ivory
dice and wagering the prizes they had won on the previous night of feasting. The
captain and Ari played Hnefatafl on an inlaid square board with pieces carved from
antler. This was a thinking man’s game, sometimes known as King’s Table. Several sat
around and watched, applauding each tactical move and sounding a cheer as Hjálmar
manoeuvred his king to safety in his corner square. Illska, the cruel one, juggled
a dagger on his thumb, flipping it high to catch it by its ivory handle. Now and then
he glared toward Finten and his five Celtic companions.
Suddenly, Freki The Wolf who had been on watch ran shouting to his captain and
pointed to the west. Just above the horizon was an island with a smoking mountain,
floating in the sky. The night before, Freki had become agitated over the Aurora Borealis.
Childhood stories said the flickering light was from the flashing armour of the
Valkyries, women warriors of Odin. It was even said among the more superstitious
that, should one see a Valkyrie before battle, he was destined to die. Now Freki was
terrified. The second apparition spelled doom to their ship for having sailed too far
from familiar waters.
Hjálmar stood up and placed his hand on Freki’s trembling shoulder. “What you
see is the mighty sun playing summer pranks. The Snæfells Jökull glacier in Thulé,
though still far off, is now reflected from the icy water. I have seen this sight before,
and you will see it again.”
Finten overheard the captain’s explanation and translated for the Brothers. “Here
is the very island in the sky our own Saint Brendan saw on his voyage to the land of
giants and holy men. Now we see this same miracle with our own eyes. My Brothers,
this apparition bodes well for us.”
Finten also overheard the captain talking with one or more of his crew. He could
only make out Hjálmar’s voice. “Our progress toward Thulé is slow, despite the fair
wind. We are fighting the northern drift which tries to push us back to the Norse Sea.”
“I know. The southeast shore is well within a day’s sail, but treacherous with ice
floes. Anyway, there are still no settlements on that side of Thulé so we are headed
for the west coast.”
Seated on the deck, Ari was having a conversation in Celtic with Brother Lorcan
who was closer to his own age and more approachable than the priest.
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