The Islands of the Blessed

Seafarer flew better than Jack had expected, and they managed to catch up with the Bard and the Tanners. Thorgil had already warned the Northmen of Seafarer’s size. “He’s lord of the southern skies,” she had told them. “He travels with us to visit the ravens of Odin.” This wasn’t true, but it insured that no one would try to put the albatross into a cooking pot.

“By Asgard, you’re a sight for these old eyes!” cried Rune when he saw the Bard. “I thought the fishes had eaten you after we set you adrift. No hard feelings, I hope.”

“None whatsoever,” the Bard replied. “It was Frith’s doing.” The Northmen gathered around, for all knew Dragon Tongue except Schlaup. He hung back shyly until the Bard beckoned him forward. “Schlaup Olaf’s Son! Tell me, has the Mountain Queen forgiven me for melting a hole through her wall?”

“Not yet,” said the giant, shuffling his feet.

Meanwhile, Jack was having a complicated time keeping the Tanners from fleeing. The only thing that helped was that they were unwilling to let go of their belongings. “It doesn’t matter who sails the ship,” Jack said desperately. “You don’t need to talk to them. We’ll be in Bebba’s Town in no time.”

“Those are Northmen,” hissed Mrs. Tanner. “You’ve sold us into slavery! Dear God, what’s that?” Schlaup had turned around at the sound of her voice. He grinned, showing jumbled teeth.

“It’s a troll!” shrieked Ythla.

“Half-troll, actually,” Jack said.

“He’s going to eat us! Help! Help! Let me go!” cried Mrs. Tanner, trying to wrench herself away.

Skakki was watching with amusement, but when the Tanners looked as though they might actually escape, he turned to Schlaup. “Bring them,” he ordered.

The giant lurched forward like an eager hound, swept up all the Tanners and their bags, and waded out to the ship. “Don’t drop us!” wailed Ymma. “We can’t swim!”

“Drop us!” begged Mrs. Tanner. “It’s better to drown than be eaten.”

But Schlaup did neither. He plopped them onto the deck and sat down next to them. He lifted the tip of Mrs. Tanner’s untidy braid between his fingers and sniffed it.

Soon the long, graceful ship was loaded and slid from the inlet onto a bright, sunlit ocean. The waves settled into a regular pattern, and the red-and-cream-striped sail bellied out above. Thorgil sat in the stern to manage the rudder.

Once they were away from land, Sven the Vengeful climbed onto the prow and reattached the wonderful dragon’s head, carved from real life by Olaf. Again the craft became a noble karfi, the streamlined battleship that Jack remembered. The Northmen began to sing:

From whence comes the wind
That stirs the sea,
From where the force
That fans fire to flame?
On the great Tree sits an eagle.
His wings drive the foam-tipped wave
Over the ale-horn of the sea.
The air of this world
Flows from his wings.
Marvelous are the winds made,
Yet never seen.

In the distance a small speck marked out the position of Egil Long-Spear’s craft. The fat knorr was ideal for carrying trade goods, but it was also easy to overtake and plunder. Thus Egil depended on Skakki’s protection, while at the same time he provided cover for the berserkers.

One thing Jack had forgotten was the smell of the ship. The Northmen’s boots stank like carrion and their clothes reeked of sweat. Bilge sloshed beneath their feet and the very timbers of the craft were soaked with ancient fish blood and worse. The breeze carried away some, but not all of it. The Tanners were draped over the side, throwing up, and Jack, to his shame, soon joined them. 

Chapter Sixteen A LOVE STORY

They passed small islands inhabited only by gulls, eiders, and puffins. To the left the mainland was a green smear, and to the right endless waves came out of the east and rocked the ship. It was a calm sea, although the Tanners complained loudly and feared they would be sent to the bottom at any moment.

“Wait till they see a real storm,” said Thorgil, who was watching the distant shoreline with Jack.

“Let’s hope we get to Bebba’s Town before anything happens,” Jack said. They were moving slowly to keep pace with Egil. The Bard and Rune had settled in the stern, and from time to time one of them would take up his harp and sing.

Then crew members would gather around and the rear of the ship would sink perilously low while the prow lifted.