Milleniums of Jorth
by Adam Manning
Chapter 2
Bridge of Death
The three Kristians, Kalf, Ivar and Gunnar, turned away from
their Captain, their features screwed up with dismay. “You cannot worship the
old gods, Captain. They are sent by the Devil himself”, Kalf begged his old
friend.
“No. For
the first time I see with eyes that shine like the full moon on a cloudless
night”, Leif retorted, growing angry at their continual questioning. Kalf
turned, hands on his enormous hips, to look back down the hillock to the forest
floor below.
“Brothers,
come, let’s go back to the boat. Let’s not hear anymore of this madness”, he
muttered to the two nearest him.
“If any
leave they will not be part of whatever adventures we have”, Leif sneered at
him. “Go now, and you will not be any
part of our tales”. He poked the ground
emphatically with the point of his sword as he spoke.
With only
the odd backward glance, the three Kristians left their fellows and were soon
outside the illumination provided by the Rainbow Bridge. Apart from Leif and Bragi, the others looked
on, unsure whether to follow or stay.
Leif caught their mood and sought to purge them of their doubts.
“You
others, know my thoughts. It is Odin who tests us. It is as the old legends.
Heimdall there guards Bifrosts, loyally blocking those who are unworthy from
setting foot on the bridge to Asgard. But I know that Odin is with us for I
have seen him.” At this Leif looked to
the trees. He caught a glimpse of the large black bird he had seen before, but
as he turned to look closer it suddenly took flight.
“If we are to
reach Asgard we must placate Heimdall in some way, or steer round him as if he
were a cliff that split the sea between our ship and the home port.” Above, the
clouds had thickened to become a blanket of grey. The day had grown darker as
evening approached.
“I have
heard that giving the life of some beast is one way to please the gods”, Bragi
noted brightly. “Perhaps the goat on the ship will do”. Some of the crew grumbled about this as they
had precious few provisions left after their sea trek.
“A good
start”, Leif grinned. While the others
waited, some of their numbers went back to the vessel and snatched the goat
from the hands of the Kristians resting there. It began to rain and those that
remained on the hillock watched as the dark-skinned old man raised his hands
towards heaven, seeming to beckon the drops to the waiting earth below. Where the rain seemed to fall through the
Rainbow Bridge, a sparkling silver radiance reflected on their surroundings.
The native priest’s face shown with this glow, giving him a shining, almost
divine glow.
The goat,
which had been with them since they left Greenland, was slaughtered
noisily. The weather cleared and by
midnight, those parts of the goat that were to be eaten had been cooked over a
small open fire and then eaten by the men, glad to have some nourishment. The stranger had been given some too by
leaving it near him. This he had eagerly taken once the Norsemen had
retreated. After greedily gobbling it
down, he beamed back at the newcomers with a grateful grin.
“Heimdall
is pleased with our gift”, Leif said, “but let us see what wisdom Odin has to
offer.”
“Captain,
it is late. Even the gods are known to sleep”, protested one of the sailors.
“Svein,
we’re on the verge of glory and you talk of sleep?” scathed Bragi.
“Let the
weak take to their beds”, Leif said, “whilst those who feel touched by
greatness search on.”
With little
further comment, two of the half a dozen warriors on the hillock wrapped
themselves in their cloaks and were soon snoring where they lay. The others
held council on what to do next. Gunnar reached for a pouch he kept tied to his
belt.
“Here
Captain, this maybe what you need.” He held out the pouch and undid the leather
strap. When opened it gave off a musty smell. Gunnar came from a clan that had,
in pagan times, boasted of many berserkers and warriors. “It is a potion for
making woad.”
“That might
be the very key to unlock the gates of heaven”, Leif said with a smile,
snatching the pouch and its contents away.
For the rest
of the night, the men brewed the woad.
Just before dawn, Bragi, weary for lack of rest, lay on the hillock to
sleep a while. As the sun began its morning climb, the strange chemical was
ready and the three warriors still awake daubed themselves in it. Leif was
first and covered himself in it. Bjorn and Thorfinn had only enough for their
faces, arms and legs. When this was completed, Gunnar held the residue of the
goats innards above his head in a clay bowl. The others slowly recanted old
chants they had heard their grandfathers use. The spirits of the old gods moved
amongst them and, slowly at first, their faces took on new, weird looks. Long
dead invocations were heard again and Leif paced around Gunnar expectantly,
appearing to wish that Odin himself would step forth and make his biding known
to them.
The mystic
ringing tone heard earlier had long since abated and the chanting woke Bragi.
He stretched, rubbed his eyes and regarded his brother with incredulous
eyes. Fear shot through him. Up to that point, he had thought of these
events as another manly adventure for him and his brother to share. He could
grow in stature in the eyes of his much older brother, who was the leader of
their family. But this new guise was disturbing in its strangeness and intensity. He said nothing though despite his
scepticism.
Bragi
thought their ritual was to call on the gods to reveal the future. The goat’s guts were thrown down so that
signs and omens could foretell their fate.
Fresh doubts gnawed at Bragi over these proceedings. These practices were just old-fashioned
superstition. A younger man, Bragi had
not had the same taste of the pagan faith the others had in years gone by. The invocations became louder until they
neared the moment when Gunnar would cast the entrails on the ground.
Leif
suddenly stopped the curious stepping and hopping dance that had seemed to
control him as if possessed. Taken aback, Bjorn stopped too and Gunnar looked
down from gazing up at the bowl. Leif jumped towards Gunnar and snatched the
bowl from him. “I alone must seek this from Odin”, he screamed hoarsely at the
others on the hillock and jumped down to the forest floor, disappearing from
sight in the still dark dawn. The
others gazed in disbelief after their Captain, unsure of his motives and unable
to guess what might happen next.
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