The Snow on the Cross (5 page)

I lost count of the minutes as I
stared at the sea.  Bjarni came over and sat beside me on the deck and patted
my shoulder.

“The first time I sailed,” he began. 
“I was six.  I stayed below deck with the cattle because I was so afraid of the
water.  My father found me hiding there and took me by the shirt.  He dragged
me up onto the deck and made me look out at the water.  I had never seen
anything so beautiful and terrible at the same time.  He held me there until my
fear had subsided.  Then, he pitched me overboard.”

I suppose Bjarni’s story was meant to
make me feel better.  I suddenly hoped he wasn’t going to do the same thing to
me.

“I floundered in the water,” Bjarni
continued.  “I almost drowned.  I only remember the coldness.  My entire body
was numb.  Then my father pulled me out with a fish spear he had hooked onto my
belt.  He tossed me back onto the deck.  I was freezing and crying, and he
knelt down and looked at me.  He told me I should never lose my fear of the
water.  And I never have.  If you lose your fear, it will drag you under.  You
have to stay afraid of it, then you can learn how to manipulate it.”

Bjarni laughed again and walked
away.  I would spend the next several hours motionless and lying down on the
deck with my eyes closed.  If I opened them, the dizziness returned, and I
would heave up dry air.  One of the men shouted that they had land to the
north, and I heard Bjarni remark it was the southern coast of
Britain
.   I had never seen
Britain
, so I rolled over and cracked my
eyes open.

Some trees.  Some rocks.  It looked
remarkably like
France
.  I closed my eyes again.  By
noon
I was feeling a little better: enough to open my eyes
anyway.  I sat up and noticed the Vikings sharing some dried venison as they
sat together at the far end of the ship.  They saw me sitting up and motioned
me to come over.  I shook my head, and Bjarni came over to me.

“Bishop, you will feel better if you
eat.  It will keep the sickness away.”

He handed me a strip of dried
venison.  My stomach rolled as I looked at it.  “I can’t.” I told him.

Bjarni shrugged and left the meat
sitting next to me on the deck.  I stared at it for a long time. 
Britain
had drifted away on the horizon, and
there was now only open sea ahead of us.  I noticed Bjarni had changed our course
north.  Now there was nothing left in front of us except the open sea and
Greenland
.

***

Night floated over us, and we
drifted. 

Some of the men were asleep, and
their snores complemented the hush of the waves.  Bjarni was not asleep,
however, and he sat by himself staring at the sky.  I was a bit overwhelmed of
how complete the darkness was when night fell.  There was no flicker of flame,
no moon to shine down.  It was a complete darkness, and it wrapped us tightly. 
I crawled over to sit beside Bjarni.  I found that I could not stand, for I was
still a bit queasy.

“Ah, Bishop,” Bjarni seemed glad for
the company.  “The sea agrees with you.”

“How long until we reach
Greenland
?”

Bjarni studied the sky for a moment. 
“Two days.  Perhaps three.  You can never really know for sure.”

“And Eirik will be glad to see me?”

Bjarni looked at me, as if memorizing
my face in the darkness.  “He may.  He is not an easy man to know, but he is
honorable.”

“Tell me about Thordhild.”

Bjarni grew quiet for a moment.  “Beautiful. 
Proud.  Almost as strong as her husband.  She was a peasant in
Iceland
when Eirik landed there.  He told me
once she was the only woman that could match him.  But he never said in what. 
She is the one who asked for you.”

“Not for me, Bjarni.  She simply
wanted anyone who would come.  I could have been anybody.”

“No,” Bjarni said.  “I think she
knew.  And I also think your god has a plan for you.  She had a dream about a
missionary coming to her land.  Eirik was tamed.  His temper was quenched.”

“This was in her dream?”

Bjarni nodded.  “Eirik had a church
built for her, you know, even though he’ll have nothing to do with it.  He
wants to make her happy, and if it means bringing you to his island, then he
will do it.  God or no god.  Eirik is a hard man.  He has killed many men.  He
came to
Greenland
as a criminal, and he can never
return to his homeland.”

“And his men?”

“They follow him.  He is their
leader.  It is as simple as that.  He promised them a new land with new
prosperity, and they followed him.  Thordhild is his wife, and she obeys him in
most aspects, except her faith.”

“What about your faith, Bjarni?  Have
you any?”

Bjarni laughed again, and his eyes
glimmered.  “Some.  I put my trust in the axe and the sea.  Thor watches over
us, and if my time comes with honor, I will ascend into
Valhalla
.”

“
Valhalla
’s not real,” I murmured.  “It’s a heathen story.”

Bjarni’s laughter died, and I knew I
had said the wrong thing.  He grew somber as he stared at the black water. 
“Some men would have slit your throat for uttering those words,” he said in a
very low voice.  “Eirik would have you burned alive.”

“I am sorry,” I said.  “I did not
mean to offend you.”

Bjarni’s face cracked into a smile. 
“What do you expect to find in
Greenland
,
Bishop?  We are mere savages.  We slaughter women and children and drink the
blood of monks while we steal their gold.  If your monasteries represent your
most holy relics, why does your god not save them?”

“That’s not the way.  It’s not my
god’s plan.”

“Your god’s plan is to allow
foreigners to pillage your temples and churches?  To bathe in the holy water
and wine we find there?  Do you expect Eirik’s men to listen to you?  What is
your proof?”

“Thordhild, if she is the woman you
say, will help me.”

Bjarni did laugh at that.  “So the
choice is to either listen to a bishop from another country, or a woman? 
That’s not a wise decision.  Thordhild may have some strength, but it will only
come if her husband allows it.”

“But you said . . .”

“It does not matter what I say.  Thordhild
is a strong woman, yes, but she is still a woman.  Her faith means nothing to
her husband and his men.”

Suddenly I felt sick again.  Why
would they listen to me?  They would not even listen to one of their own.  
Bjarni gave me one last look of barely concealed contempt and stretched out on
the deck.  He threw a large blanket over him and was snoring in a matter of
minutes.  I sat there and looked at the dark all around me.  I could feel it
closing in.

The Watchers

Bjarni did not speak to me for the
remainder of the voyage.  I assumed he still bristled over my remarks
concerning
Valhalla
.  Two days after we left
France
, I could see the outline of the
mountains against the sky.  The Vikings on the ship seem to grow excited as we
drew closer to the land.  It was my first glimpse of
Greenland
, and I saw no green anywhere.

After we had landed, and I said my
prayers of thanks, the Vikings led me beside the fire on the beach.  Its warmth
was soothing, and the numbness left my body.  I did not see Bjarni anywhere,
but I assumed he was with his men securing the boat.  My legs began shaking as
they grew accustomed to land again, and for a moment I felt as if I would
faint.  Strong hands gripped my shoulders to steady me.  I found I could not lift
my head to look these men in their eyes.  The heavy bundles surrounded me, and
I could smell the musty odor of mud and sweat trapped in their fur.  After the
days at sea, I was suddenly grateful I had not allowed myself to eat anything,
for it surely would have come up there on the beach.

I heard a familiar voice and
recognized it as Bjarni’s.  He was shouting to the men who surrounded me.  The
smells overpowered me, and the bulks of the men blocked out my sunlight.  I saw
the gray ground rising to meet me, and I slipped into sleep.

***

God had a plan for me.  He wanted me
to die there in the cold.

My bones ached with cold, and I had
convinced myself I would never truly be warm again.  I shivered violently
beneath the ragged furs they piled on top of me.  Some of the furs, I couldn’t
help notice, had traces of blood on them.  Others were warm and wet; as if they
were fresh from whatever animal these men had slaughtered it for.  Another
harsh voice, and I could feel the weight of yet another fur dropped on top of
me.  The weight was crushing, and I almost couldn’t breathe.  When I opened my
eyes, I could see the shadows that had collected against the ceiling, and I
could hear the voices of the North Men drifting in and out.  The scent of smoke
was trapped around my head, and whenever I took a breath, the smoke seared my
lungs.

I had a fever, but it was apparent
the North Men didn’t realize that.  As I lay sweating and shivering beneath the
odorous bulk of the fur, I wondered if I would truly die.  I would not die in
Le Mans
as an old man in the warmth of his
own bed, but in the frozen wasteland of the barbarians.  This was to be my
final resting place.

None of these men spoke my language,
save for Bjarni, and I had not seen or heard him since my arrival.  I didn’t
even know how long I had been there.  It might have been hours or days.  I
couldn’t move my arms under the weight of the fur, so I rolled my eyes upward
and tried to get a glimpse of my surroundings.

I was apparently in one of the larger
dwellings, for there was a stone fireplace across the room to my left.  I saw
that I was lying in the floor on a sort of makeshift bed, and if I turned my
head, I could stare across the dirt floor into the heart of the fire that
fizzled sadly in its stone casing.  Bizarre shadows danced out of the
firelight, and they seemed hypnotic and soothing.  I could see the shadows
stretching along the floor of some of the North Men standing near.  They spoke
to one another in their strange, harsh language, and they spoke in low voices. 
I wondered if one of them was Eirik.

I realized I was lying in a hallway
with rooms that opened up at either end.  This must have been one of the
meeting places, for long tables with benches lined the walls on either side of
the wall.  Beyond the doorways, I could see nothing but darkness and shadows
that flittered randomly across the ceiling and floors.

Although I didn’t know it at the
time, Eirik was there in the meeting hall.  He had been standing out of the
firelight in the company of a man named Broin, who had come with him from
Iceland
.  Eirik, I was later told, was the
one who was keeping watch over me and waiting for me to awaken, but it was
Broin who kept throwing furs on me.   Broin didn’t know where
Le Mans
was, and he was worried that my body
was too accustomed to the warmer temperatures of southern lands.  It wasn’t
until I drew a map in the snow for him many days later that he tried to grasp
where it was I had come from.  I sketched
Greenland
, made lines that represented water, and at the bottom of the picture, I
drew a large circle and called it
France
.  I planted a twig toward the center of my circle and pronounced it “
Le Mans
.”  Broin nodded as he looked at it,
but I still do not think he fully grasped where it was I had come from.

God’s hand guides mine, and so I
speak to you only God’s truth.

My fever broke after a period of hazy
blackness where I drifted in and out of the light.  My robes were soaked with
sweat, and the steaming pile of fur over me was saturated as well.  I managed
to kick some of them off of me, and the coolness that flooded over me was
chilling and harsh.  My teeth clattered together viciously, and the North Men
who were in the hall at the time noticed my movements.  Two of them, men I had
not recognized from before, came to me and propped me against the wall.  One of
them held a wooden bowl filled with clear broth and tried to press it upon me. 
I looked down in the bowl and thought I saw specks of dirt floating there.

“You men,” I murmured.  “Go find
Bjarni.  Let him speak to me.”  My words were mumbled and low, and I do not
think they understood what I was telling them.  I hoped, if nothing else, they
would hear Bjarni’s name and go find him for me.  They stood there blinking
their shining black eyes at me and pushed the bowl back toward me.

“No,” I said, my voice becoming
stronger.  “Go find Bjarni.  Do you understand?  Bjarni.”

I said my words slowly and loudly. 
One of them, the one with the bowl, set it down upon the floor.

“Bjarni,” he stated simply.