East (22 page)

Sofi was watching my face, seeing the wonder and then the dismay there, and she put a comforting hand on mine.

"
Courage,
" she said.

I studied the map for some time and decided that I would travel to the port town of La Rochelle, where I hoped to find a ship to take me north. I had no idea how I was going to pay for such a journey but thought maybe I could work for my passage. It would be much faster to travel by ship than to make the long trek north on foot. It turned out that Sofi's brother lived in La Rochelle and knew the harbor well. She thought he might be able to help me. And Sofi and Estelle were going to take me all the way to La Rochelle. Sofi had not seen her brother for a long time, she said, and accompanying me was the perfect opportunity for her and Estelle to visit.

We set off the next morning.

O
UR ARRIVAL AT THE PALACE
was all I could have desired. There was a large assemblage to greet us, everyone brilliantly attired. And I was told that Simka had been working night and day on the sumptuous feast that we will enjoy this evening. (Simka's prowess in the kitchen more than makes up for her foul disposition.) The only thing that marred the homecoming was a trace of unease I could read in the eyes of my closest advisers. No one dared to say anything out loud when I said that the softskin man would be given the suite of rooms beside my own, but I sensed their displeasure.

Urda—sour, complaining Urda—is the only one who would ever dare to say that I am making a mistake in bringing the softskin here. All the way home in the sleigh she griped at me, saying that my people will never accept a softskin in the palace. I finally had to stop her tongue with my arts. (How she loathes it when I do that!)

Urda is wrong. I have always been able to bend my people to my will.

I will present him to the entire court at the feast this evening. But I will not tell them that the softskin man is to be their king. Better to wait, give them time to grow used to his presence here, before I tell them to prepare for a wedding.

As for me, to see him walk through the gates of my palace is the culmination of all my dreams, my plans. The joy I feel is immense; it burns inside me as though I have swallowed a piece of the sun.

T
HE JOURNEY TO
La Rochelle took less than a fortnight. I was glad of the company of Sofi and Estelle, though I worried about taking so much from them and giving so little in return. Sofi brushed aside my concerns, but I vowed I would find some way to repay her.

At one point during the trip, Estelle said to me, "Are you not afraid to go to
la terre congelée
?"

La terre congelée
was what Estelle called the Arktisk region. I thought for a moment and then said, "No."

"Ah," Estelle said with a broad smile, "you are just like Queen Maraboo!"

I laughed. "I'm not too handy when it comes to ghost-wolves and creatures with no bones."

Estelle laughed, too, and our talk turned to La Rochelle and her uncle Serge. But it was true what I had said to Estelle. I was not afraid. I had always had a secret desire to someday go to the lands of the far north. When I was little Father had explained to me that the world was round, and he described the lands of ice and snow at the farthest points to the north and south of our world. He even demonstrated this for me on a small leather ball, painting two splotches of white at opposite ends. It was amazing to me that there were places in the world where for part of the year the sun never shone at all, and for the other part it shone all the time. And where the snow never melted away. And where there were more white bears and snow owls than people. Knowing that I was a north-born, it made sense that I should be so fascinated by the Arktisk region; it was in my nature, the direction I naturally gravitated toward.

When I was a child one of my favorites of Neddy's old stories was of the goddess Freya, and how she journeyed through the world, looking for her lost husband, Odur.

"
Odur is in every place where the searcher has not come. Odur is in every place that the searcher has left.
"

It was one of the stories I had told the white bear in the castle, and I knew it was one of his favorites as well. He would hold his head up, eyes alert, especially when I came to the part about how Freya searched everywhere, even going to the frozen land of the far north, the land called Niflheim, where she came upon a grand ice palace. Freya was imprisoned there, in that palace, and had she not been one of the immortals, she would have been frozen alive. But she escaped, using her cloak of swan feathers, which carried her swiftly through the air whenever she put it on, and she soared along the northern lights until she was safely home in Asgard. She never did find her husband, Odur. And I remember thinking as a child that she gave up way too easily. He was somewhere, I had thought, and she ought to have found him.

I made Neddy tell me that story so many times that he finally got tired of it and refused to tell it ever again. But I continued to dream of frozen wondrous Niflheim and pictured myself traveling there on my white bear. How strange life was, I thought, that it should turn out that I would go to the frozen lands not
with
my white bear but in search of him.

Sofi's brother, Serge, was happy to see his sister and niece. He and his wife were very generous, giving me food and lodging. Serge said he would find out about ships traveling north, though he warned me that passage would not be cheap. When I suggested I might work for my passage, he was polite enough not to laugh outright, but he did say that there wasn't much call for young girls as shipmates.

I was silent a moment, thinking, then asked, "Is there by chance a shop in La Rochelle that might be in the market for fine dresses?"

Both Serge and Sofi looked at me in surprise. I repeated the question.

"There is a haberdasher in the center of town," Serge responded with a sideways glance at his sister. "But I don't know..."

"Please tell me how to get there," I said firmly.

Serge gave me directions, and Sofi and Estelle insisted on accompanying me.

We entered the shop. It was a tidy, well-kept establishment, and the dark wooden shelves that lined the walls were crammed with bolts of fabric in every imaginable hue. There were also gowns displayed but not many. I approached the proprietor of the shop, a stout woman with a lace cap. "I have a gown to sell," I said.

She studied my travel-worn clothing with a skeptical eye. "I do not trade in farm-made clothing," she said frostily.

When I fished the leather wallet out of my pack, she looked even more scornful. But as I pulled out the square of silver fabric and began unfolding it, her eyes opened wide.

I smoothed and shook out the silver dress, which was just as shimmering and beautiful as I remembered it, and Estelle cried out, "
C'est magnifique, Rose!
"

"I did not realize ... I am very sorry if ... It is very nice indeed," the proprietor stammered, her manner suddenly fawning. "I should be very glad to buy it from you."

Sofi helped me bargain with the woman, for I was unsure of the value of the Fransk coins that she offered. And I came away feeling very rich, although Sofi claimed that the woman should have paid even more.

We returned to Serge's house, and Estelle told him all about the "
magnifique
"dress.

"What have you learned about ships traveling north?" I asked Serge.

"There are only two," he said. "One is a run-down vessel with a poor excuse for a captain. Not something for you even to consider," he said with a frown. "The other, however, is a Portuguese caravel helmed by a captain named Contarini. Captain Contarini has a very fine reputation. He is said to be a bit on the stern side but an excellent seaman. And Contarini is willing to take you to Tonsberg, although the cost will be high."

I was disappointed; Tonsberg was a port town at the southern end of Njord. I had hoped to find a ship going farther north.

"What about the other vessel you mentioned? Where is it going?" I asked.

"I doubt old Thor even knows."

"What do you mean?"

"Thor is a notorious drunkard. He got his nickname because he claims to be descended from some notorious Viking, and he acts and dresses like one himself. Thor's ship is a
knorr
and it has seen better days."

"A
knorr?
"

"One of those old-fashioned longships built in Viking manner. Thor's is the only one I've ever seen in this harbor. The only advantage of booking passage with Thor," added Serge, "is that he'll only charge the price of a barrel of ale. But it's out of the question. Pay Contarini's fee, and at least you know you'll arrive in Njord in one piece. You should be able to find another ship in Tonsberg, heading farther north."

I agreed and the next morning Serge took me to the caravel. Before leaving, though, I said my good-byes to Sofi and Estelle. At first Sofi refused to take any of the money I had gotten for my dress, saying that the weaving I had done at her cottage was payment enough, but I made her take a few coins—to pay for the map, I argued.

Estelle gave me a big hug, then handed me something small. It was the Queen Maraboo playing piece. I told her she shouldn't break up the set, but she said that her uncle Serge could carve her another and that I must carry it with me on my journey, for good luck. "To help you find
lours blanc
" she said. Thanking Sofi and Estelle one last time, I headed off with Serge to the docks.

Captain Contarini was a small, hard-eyed man who grudgingly agreed to take me on board as long as I paid the full price up front and vowed to stay out of sight.

"It is bad luck," he said, "to have a woman on board. You will stay confined to your quarters until the ship docks in Tonsberg." Meals would be brought to me, and that was all the contact I would be allowed with the crew. Serge supervised the payment of the fee, making sure I was not cheated; as it was, I paid Captain Contarini almost all I had gotten for my silver gown.

I bade Serge farewell and the captain hustled me on board, taking me quickly belowdecks. We wound through some narrow passageways until coming to a small storage room. Captain Contarini handed me a bucket, a skin-bag of water, and a thin wadding of cloth for a mattress. "Do not leave this room," he said with a frown, and slammed the door shut behind him.

I looked around my cramped quarters with misgiving. It was a gray, windowless closet of a room. I could feel the ship rocking gently on the water, and that, combined with the stuffiness of the room, already made me feel queasy. Serge had said the journey should take no more than five days. Surely I could stand anything for only five days, I thought. But I felt choked and stifled. The thought of not being able to breathe fresh air ... Only five days ... But my feeling of uneasiness grew. This was far worse than the castle, I thought. I did not think I could stand being locked up in that room for five days.

I went to open the door. It was locked from the outside. Captain Contarini was taking no chances.

I felt a surge of anger. I had had enough of locked doors. Using a needle from my sewing kit, I managed to pop the lock. I picked up my pack and, finding my way with difficulty, went to the deck of the ship.

Captain Contarini was furious when he saw me. While the sailors watched with interest, the captain grabbed my arm and hustled me off onto the dock.

"I will not be locked belowdecks," I said before he could speak.

"Then you will not travel on my ship."

"Very well. Give back my money."

"Certainly not. We struck a bargain. Just because you choose not to keep your end of it, it is no concern of mine." He turned and began to head back up the gangplank. Suddenly he swung around to face me. "And do not think of getting your man Serge to intercede. I am a good friend to the authorities here and no one will listen to the claims of an unescorted_____." The word was Portuguese, but his glance was so scathing I knew it was something insulting.

I stood there on the dock, enraged at the captain and even more annoyed with myself for my rash decision. I did not like the idea of going back to Serge and Sofi.

Impulsively I decided I would find the other ship, the one with the disreputable Viking captain.

I found the longship after some hunting. It was off in a little-used part of the harbor, but I knew it at once. There was no other ship like it. It was long and slender, with a single mast, and it sat low in the water. The curving bow and stern posts were indistinguishable from each other, except that there was a steering oar at the rear, and when I got closer, I could see that the bow had a carved figurehead. Because the figure was so weatherbeaten, I had trouble making out what kind of beast it was, with its staring eyes and fierce, bared teeth, but I thought it was a bear. Which could be a good omen, I told myself.

There seemed to be no one about, so I stood, gazing at the ship. Despite the longship's peeling paint and worn appearance, I liked its lines. I noticed there was cargo on board, lashed down and covered with animal skins.

"You there!" came a harsh voice from behind me. He was speaking in Njorden. "What do you want?"

I turned to face an enormous man with a long, bushy beard and a pair of fierce blue eyes. He had long, bushy hair as well, and both beard and hair were butter yellow, though streaked with gray. Over his broad shoulders he wore a cloak that was fastened by an intricately wrought brooch, the metal tarnished. A long knife in a leather sheath lay against one hip, and around his neck was a necklace from which dangled what I recognized to be the silver hammer of Thor; it, too, was tarnished.

"Pardon me," I replied quickly. "I was admiring your ship."

"Njorden, are you?"

I nodded.

"Then get along to your mother. The harbor is no fit place for a maid," he said dismissively, and he boarded the slender ship with an easy grace despite his size.

"I am looking for passage to Njord," I called to him.

"You'll find none here," he said without glancing in my direction.