The Islands of the Blessed

Chapter Twenty THE QUEST

“You’re right,” the Bard said when they were safely out to sea. “Ringing the bell was the worst possible thing that could have happened.”

“There wasn’t time to hunt for the clapper,” Jack said. Moodily, he watched Schlaup. Amidship, where he couldn’t capsize the vessel, the giant contentedly fiddled with Mrs. Tanner’s braid. Her daughters were draped over the side, as far away as they could go.

“It might not have made a difference,” said the old man. “The artwork was part of the clapper’s magic.”

“So what do we do?”

The Bard gazed out at the gray-green sea. The sun had just risen, and the tops of the waves seemed lighted from within as they peeled away from the prow. “I’m not sure, lad. Those two ‘dings’ may have been enough to awaken the draugr, but not enough to provide direction. That’s very worrying. She may be prowling the village.”

Thorgil brought them some of Pega’s special scones and a pot of butter. She spread the butter with her fingers and licked them. “It’s not all loss,” the shield maiden said. “My brother has found a wife.” Jack noticed that Mrs. Tanner had reestablished her control of the giant. She had pushed him away, and he was apologizing to her for being an oaf.

“Do you honestly think that’s going to be any kind of a marriage?” Jack said.

“It’s no worse than what most people have. They say it’s better to fight than to be lonely.”

“And you believe that?” Jack asked.

“I shall never marry,” Thorgil said scornfully. “Shield maidens have all the power and status of men. If they wed, they lose it. They can no longer go a-hunting or bring home fine plunder. They are bound to the house, cooking, cleaning, and chasing after smelly brats. There is no honor in such a life.”

The Bard smiled for the first time since their humiliation at the monastery. “In a life as long as mine,” he said, “I’ve learned that ‘never’ is a dangerous word to use. We may yet see you blushing and giggling, Thorgil.”

The shield maiden sprang to her feet as though she’d been stung and stalked off to the stern of the ship. She joined Eric Pretty-Face in a loud discussion about how to gut sheep.

They spent the day resting in the hidden Northman harbor. Jack and Thorgil packed away the Lady of the Lake’s gift and wore their old clothes again. Skakki, Egil, Rune, and the Bard conferred, and when evening fell, they called everyone together around a fire. It was a beautiful night, with a clear, starry sky and a warm breeze from the mainland. Pine-wood burned fragrantly with many a pop from the pinecones Thorgil tossed in. They feasted on wild boar, goose, salmon, and the brambleberries that grew abundantly near the inlet. Seafarer ate half a salmon by himself, with Thorgil finishing the rest of it.

As was usual with Northmen, they gave themselves wholly to the task at hand. All conversation ceased while they stuffed themselves, but Skakki had limited the number of beer kegs. He needed clear heads later. After a while he stood up and commanded their attention. “You’ve all heard about the draugr and Fair Lamenting,” he began. Everyone turned to look at Mrs. Tanner, and she sniffed contemptuously.

“Dragon Tongue is certain the draugr will emerge again,” Skakki went on. “She may already be abroad.” The Northmen glanced nervously at the forest ringing the shore, and Eric the Rash, who was afraid of the dark, moved closer to the fire. “Now we must repay a debt to Dragon Tongue. Some years ago we Northmen set him adrift to die—”

“It was Frith’s order. I hold no grudge,” the Bard interrupted, “yet I would not refuse aid from friends.”

“Aid shall be gladly given,” Rune declared.

“Quite right,” said Skakki, “but all should agree before we take this quest.”

What quest? thought Jack. He hadn’t been present at the conference.

“Egil and his crew will return to Bebba’s Town,” the young captain continued. “They will help Dragon Tongue sell his wares and buy grain. That should take about a week. Then they will drop him off here before going on to deliver the grain to the village. After which they’ll wait here for the rest of us to return from the north.”

“What are we going to do?” said Thorgil.

“Patience, little sister.” Skakki grinned. “You’re going to love this. We’re taking Dragon Tongue to Notland, to lure the draugr back to her tomb.”

“Notland!” exclaimed half a dozen voices.

“Nobody goes there,” said Eric the Rash, fear evident in his voice. “It’s all dark and spooky.”

“IT’S FULL OF SEA HAGS,” bellowed Eric Pretty-Face.

“As well as sea ivory, pearls, and gold,” added Rune. A thoughtful silence fell over the gathering.

The Bard rose. “I would not lure you to your deaths, dear friends. I ask only that you set me adrift in a coracle as you did before. Jack and I will enter the realm of the fin folk alone.”

“You’re not leaving me behind!” yelled Thorgil. “I’m not cowering on the ship while you risk your lives.”

“Your presence would be most welcome,” the Bard said warmly. “But I must warn you that the fin folk are as trustworthy as moving mist. They’re bad friends and worse enemies. I won’t think less of you if you choose to remain with your brothers.”

“I would think less of me,” the shield maiden said proudly, her face flushed with emotion.

“Very well, my child. Skakki and the others will wait in the open sea for us. If we don’t return within seven days, they may take it that we haven’t survived and leave.”

There was an uproar as Northmen shouted that they never abandoned comrades, that Odin would spit in their faces if they did such a deed. Even Schlaup, who was feeding slivers of roast goose to Mrs. Tanner, added his mighty voice to the turmoil.

“I’m touched,” said the Bard, holding his hand up for silence. “You are most noble companions, but you have duties at home. Even Olaf didn’t wait for ships that had been taken into the halls of Aegir and Ran. It is the way of the whale-road,” he said, using the Northman expression for sea.

Skakki opened a keg of mead to toast the adventure, and the Northmen gathered around, eagerly holding out their drinking horns. Jack wandered off down the beach. He always felt uncomfortable around such parties, for the tempers of berserkers were uncertain. He could hear their drunken revels in the distance.

The men had begun a flyting, a recreational insult session. Someone accused Egil of using seagull poop on his beard and someone else roared that Eric the Rash spread it on bread. Each Northman strove to top the others, inventing practices that Jack found difficult to picture, let alone understand.

Eventually, as all such contests did, the insults degenerated into a free-for-all, until Skakki shouted, “Calm them!” to Schlaup. Afterward things became very quiet indeed.

Jack sat on the sand and listened to the waves. It seemed that no matter how hard he tried, something always messed up his plans. Now he couldn’t go home. He’d have to sail north to some dark, spooky place inhabited by sea hags. It might take months. Pega would think he was dead. Father would think he’d deserted them. The hobgoblins would take Hazel away. And there wasn’t a thing he could do about it. The more Jack thought, the more depressed he became. Why couldn’t he lead a safe life like John the Fletcher or the blacksmith?

“No one’s life is safe,” said the Bard, appearing out of the darkness. Jack shivered. It was eerie the way the old man always knew what he was thinking. “The world is ever dying and being reborn, like the great tree Yggdrassil. Most people hide from such knowledge, but even they have moments of revelation. When John the Fletcher’s sister died, he was shaken out of his daydreams for an entire afternoon.”

They sat together. The old man wedged his staff in the sand and said words Jack didn’t recognize. A gentle light radiated from the staff and turned the foam on the waves pearly white. “Was that the language of the Islands of the Blessed?” the boy said.

“Indeed, it was the Blessed Speech. Someday I’ll teach it to you.”

A fox trotted out of the woods. It waded into the water and snapped up something that looked like a small crayfish. It caught a few more before returning to the trees. On the way back, it nodded politely to the Bard.

“Why was Father Severus so unfriendly?” Jack asked. “Thorgil and I helped him escape the dungeons of Elfland. We camped on the beach for weeks until he was well enough to travel. He acted as though he’d never seen us before.”

“Severus is an able and courageous man, but he has a fatal weakness,” said the Bard. “He loves power. He can’t resist forcing his will on others, whether they be mermaids, monks, or kings. He has made himself the real ruler of Bebba’s Town. Brutus is too lazy to resist him—which is a great shame, for Brutus has a generous heart. The abbot didn’t want to recognize you, lad, because you reminded him of when he was unimportant.”

Jack thought this over as the waves hurried along the shore and the night wind brought them the odor of pine trees. After a while the Bard took up his staff and they made their way back to the inlet. Northmen were sprawled in untidy heaps here and there on the sand. Eric Pretty-Face lay with his legs half submerged in water. It looked as though nothing short of Ragnarok could awaken these warriors, but Jack knew this was a illusion. He’d seen Northmen go from a drunken stupor to full battle readiness in seconds. Whether their brains were awake was another matter. Berserkers didn’t need brains to fight.

“So many duties, so little time,” murmured the Bard, gazing at the collapsed warriors. “The draugr must be laid to rest and grain delivered to the village—two tasks that pull us in opposite directions. In the middle lies Ethne. My heart cries out to rescue her, and yet the greater good demands that I wait. It’s only for a while, of course. I’m sure she’ll be all right if we provide her with supplies before we leave Bebba’s Town. Pangur Ban can keep an eye on her….”

Jack had never heard the old man sound so uncertain, and it worried him.

“Promise me this, lad,” the Bard said. “If things don’t work out in Notland, you must return and rescue my daughter.”

“Of course I will,” said Jack, deeply moved. “You don’t need to ask.”

“I know,” the old man said, looking off into the darkness over the sea.