5 Chapter 5

Just as Leif had expected, the position in the king's personal guard was not very exciting. The most significant part of his work consisted of accompanying the king just about everywhere. He ate with the king and stood guard outside his chamber when he slept, and was by his side while he gave audience to his vassals, important men, and distinguished guests. Once in a while Leif picked up a hint or two regarding the political, strategical and financial aspects of running a kingdom. It sounded terribly complicated to him, compared to his father's chieftainship in Greenland. There everything was done on a personal basis, as every man was known by reputation, if not by face.

Not too much time has elapsed since the union of Norway, and there were still many earls who, practically, didn't see themselves as subject to the king. They neglected to pay taxes and did whatever they saw fit. Still, it was obvious the kingdom's power lay in the union. Separation into small, independent, frequently warring factions would mean Norway's inability to compete with other, stronger, more united and better organized kingdoms.

King Olaf did all that was necessary to keep about him a group of especially strong, powerful earls which would be loyal to him. Ingvar Haraldson was one of them. He was a clever, ambitious man who acted as an adviser to the king on all matters of profit and loss. Leif didn't like him - the fellow seemed too smooth, too glib-tongued and shrewd to him. He suspected that for this man, honesty was a superfluous quality. He didn't like Ingvar's excessively flattering attitude towards his sister Freydis, either. He couldn't suppose Haraldson meant to court her, although he had no wife. The question arose, then, what he sought in the long conversations the two of them had together.

Many times, the king would send away the men of his retinue and go and eat alone in his chambers, while he seemed deep in thought - pondering matters of state, no doubt - or looked through some ancient scroll. The king was a learned man, and knew not only the runes, but also Latin and arithmetic. He also possessed vast knowledge about far-away lands and expressed a deep interest in Greenland.

"I have visited England, Ireland and Scotland, and the lands of the Slavs to the east and south," the king told, "and I saw no land as beautiful as Norway. But I should like to see the wild country you grew up in, Leif. If the burden of so many commitments here in Trondheim was not so heavy, I would sail together with you in spring."

"Perhaps a day will come when we are honored with a visit from you, King Olaf," Leif said politely, but to himself he thought that his father will not like such a visit very much.

"According to the maps I saw, Greenland is a vast country," the king remarked, signaling to the serving boy to pour more wine.

"That is so," said Leif. "Greenland looks, roughly, like a giant triangle, the base of which is in the north and the point in the south, and only close to the point there are lands fit for growing crops, pasture and, in short, settling, and also some woods here and there, though most of those have been already cut down for building. But this, as I said, is the smallest part of the country. Most of Greenland's territory is covered with enormous glaciers."

"And what is there beneath the glaciers?" asked the king. "Could it be anything worthwhile?"

Leif shrugged. "Most of them are so thick no one would contemplate breaking them, Your Grace."

"And if one waits until the high summer, and tries to hammer through one of these glaciers?" insisted the king.

"It might be possible to break away some parts of the ice," said Leif, "but does His Grace believe we might find something that would justify the great effort involved?"

His Grace believes, King Olaf thought to himself, that if you knew of thick layers of gold and silver underneath those glaciers, you wouldn't entertain the notion of telling me about it.

"Also," Leif went on, "we have more than enough to do, even without fighting the unconquerable forces of nature. There is strengthening and expanding the settlements, all the ordinary farm work, and hunting for our needs and for selling across the sea - sealskins and whale fat, and walrus tusks for ivory."

"Ah," said the king, "with hunting, life is not so very boring. I am fond of it myself and arrange many hunting trips - for entertainment, of course. Do you hawk?"

"I did a few times in my life," said Leif, "but it isn't very common in the place where I grew up, Your Grace."

"Well and good," said King Olaf. "Well, in two days we will go hawking, and then we can all evaluate your abilities."

As it turned out, the promised hunting trip was delayed by a few days because of strong rains with lightning and thunder - but eventually, a pleasant autumn day broke through, and the hunters were out on their way early in the morning. They rode underneath a clear blue sky strewn with little puffy clouds. The hooves of their horses broke the thin frost that covered the earth, the yellowish brown dead grass, and the leaves in all shades of earth and fire that fell down from the trees.

Leif was glad for the change. He got tired of standing and sitting, listening and talking. His strong body asked for movement, activity, stretching of limbs and work of muscles, and something that would engage his senses, but not his mind or his heart. Freydis, who was also invited to come along, was all smiles as she rode by the side of Ingvar Haraldson. The king signaled Leif to ride by him at the head of the column, together with the princes, his niece Thorgunna, and the rest of the king's guard.

"You ride well, Leif Erikson," Prince Sigurd spoke to him. "I was certain that you, the Greenland settlers, never sat on horseback, and only ride in sledges pulled by dogs or reindeer. Or perhaps by white bears," he added off-hand, to the sniggers of some men about him.

"There is no need to exhibit your ignorance, Sigurd," the king told his son. "Do you truly believe no man of Greenland owns a horse or has had an opportunity to sit in the saddle?"

"I do not pretend to be a rider as skilled as you, Prince Sigurd," Leif replied serenely, "but I daresay I shall live to the end of this day without falling off the back of my horse."

Some smiled, others laughed, and the conversation dispersed. Princess Thorgunna gave him an appreciative stare, but said nothing. She rode very well herself, straight as an arrow, her head held high and proud. The hood of her dark cloak was thrown back, her hair collected in a smooth knot at the base of her neck.

Like countless times in the past five years, Leif's heart was suddenly constricted because Maura wasn't by his side, because she couldn't share with him all that gladdened his heart - the golden fire of the falling leaves, the deep green of the pines and other evergreens, the fresh cold air he delightedly inhaled, the energetic movement of his body forward, on the back of the chestnut horse. So many times he dreamed of sailing here one day together with Maura, of showing her the land of his fathers.

Their time had run out sooner than they expected, though. No one can tell if there will be time for all we plan, he thought to himself. He shook his head and looked forward. At times he felt her riding just next to him - he could almost see the sun reflecting off her smooth black hair, could hear her soft, pleasant voice talking to him, and in her mouth, as always, were words of wisdom, hope and cheerfulness - all the messages that helped him turn from reckless youth to mature man. Even after she passed away, whenever he was in doubt, many times it was enough to think of what she would have said or done to reach the correct decision. And once he did, he felt her smile is still with him.

All his energy in the last five years was dedicated to fulfilling the promises he made to her: sailing to Vinland, strengthening the ties with Iceland, supporting and advising his younger siblings. Only one wish of hers he could not satisfy.

He didn't marry again.

"Leif," he recalled her soft, weak voice on her deathbed, as if the words were whispered in his ear just now. "Leif, my beloved, thanks to you, and you alone, I was happy as I never thought I could be."

She had lost almost all her blood, and it was a wonder she was still conscious. Her eyes were enormous and full of ethereal light, her face white as snow. Her cold hands held his, but with every moment their grip weakened, and though he returned the pressure to her fingers, he sensed he could not pass any of the heat of his body to her. She was shaking with cold underneath the blankets and furs.

"You must marry again, my love. I do not want you to be alone for the rest of your life. Be happy. Be happy."

Those were her last words.

… Leif's good fortune did not smile upon him at that hunting trip. While the other hunters had already begun collecting their bounty, his hawk refused to play along.

"You seem deep in thought, Leif Erikson," remarked Princess Thorgunna. "That must be why you have had no success today."

Even in her simple riding garb, she looked radiant. The exercise brought a very becoming flush into her rather pale face. Her hair shone like copper, her eyes were bright, her long dark eyebrows made handsome curves. Her hawk was held upon her arm with the natural grace of a noblewoman who often goes hawk-hunting. Leif smiled despite himself.

"As long as this is not a hunt for profit, I won't be sorry even if I return empty-handed. I am enjoying the ride. Besides, I didn't expect any bounty. Hawk-hunting is a sport for earls, not simple men like me, and I am not used to it."

"Simple men!" cried the princess. "Many years hence, when none of us or our children or grandchildren walk upon this earth, people will forget Thorgunna - but will remember Erik Thorvaldson, the discoverer of new lands, and his son Leif, the expander of horizons."

Without noticing it, they let their horses walk slower, and lost their place at the head of the column close to the king. Leif was amused by her words.

"Forget Thorgunna, the queen of all Norway?" he said. "I find this hard to believe."

"It is not at all certain," Thorgunna said quietly, "that I will be the queen of Norway."

"No?" Leif raised his eyebrows. "But it is well known, and commonly spoken of, that you are promised to the prince Sigurd, Princess."

"Everybody had thought so ever since Sigurd and I were little," said Thorgunna. "But now, when the times are turbulent, His Grace believes it might be better for the kingdom to make a different arrangement - marry Prince Sigurd so as to secure an advantageous connection, and me to any man the king will see fit."

A hint of something close to pity appeared for a moment in Leif's face, and this didn't remain hidden from the eyes of the princess. She went on:

"It is so - a maid of my birth and position must be disposed of in a way that will benefit everybody, not merely herself. But I do not fear for my future. I am the king's own blood, and His Grace loves me as a daughter. I have no doubt he will find me a good husband."

She is a clever girl, thought Leif, but such calm, almost indifference, when it comes to the choice of a husband is unnatural for someone of her age.

The day was so pleasant and the hunt so entertaining, that none of the party noticed two couples who were left far behind. The first were Leif and Thorgunna; the second Freydis and Ingvar. The last two were riding very close to one another, as if they were old friends, and seemed to be deep in quiet conversation.

"It is a great pleasure to meet you," said Ingvar, and his voice was smooth and sweet as honey. "What you are telling is very interesting indeed. I hope I will have the pleasure of conversing with you in a place where no one will interrupt my enjoyment of your delightful company."

Freydis gave him her most charming smile, but her eyes remained cold. She didn't know whether she could trust this man. His birth wasn't very high, but his ambition, his glib tongue and his natural sense for connecting himself with useful people, advanced him to the position he now occupied. He was bright and clever, and though swords and spears were not his province, he was respected even in such a society that glorified war. Freydis had no doubt the man is a double-edged sword. On the other hand, however, it might very well be that he is precisely what she needs.

"I am certain," she said, "that very soon we will have the opportunity for uninterrupted conversation."