8 Chapter 8

"I know His Grace did wisely by acting upon reason, rather than feeling," said Thorgunna, looking alternately at the chess board and at the face of King Olaf.

The king sighed, staring at the board and not seeing it. This was the second game of chess they played that day, after breaking their fast on a simple meal of porridge, cream, apples and soft-boiled eggs - and evidently, this was also the second game the king was going to lose.

"I had no choice," said King Olaf. "The situation in the Northern provinces requires a watchful eye, and in such a delicate matter, I could think of no one but Sigurd I would be able to truly put my trust into. Sigurd is inexperienced, that is true, but he is my son, and all the might of my men stands behind him. I sent the best warriors along with him."

Prince Sigurd left court at dawn of that same day, accompanied by several hundreds of well-chosen men and the best commanders among the king's troops, and turned north.

"I would have done this myself," King Olaf went on, "but commitments of unbreakable nature require my presence in Trondheim for the next few months - and this mission is something that could not be delayed. The flame of rebellion may spread, and when fire breaks out in earnest, it will be far more difficult to put out."

"You are right, my father, certainly," replied Thorgunna. "I have not the least doubt that your provision for the future will be what saves Norway from danger."

"I cannot comprehend why there are earls who do not see what is so obvious," said the king. "Only a stable union of Norway will prevent us from being in a vulnerable position. We cannot permit ourselves to break into many separate counties again. But there are, apparently, short-sighted men, who are moved by petty ambition alone, and deny the fact that Norway needs one leader - naturally, it cannot be anybody but me; and when the day comes, Sigurd will replace me."

"It is said that those who rebel against your authority, my father, are men who have not truly accepted the Christian faith," said Thorgunna anxiously. "They were baptized, but do not visit the church and continue their pagan ways in secret."

"This does not surprise me at all," said the king, "for it has been a while since I was blessed by the understanding that Lord Jesus is the source of all union, while pagan worship is a cause of rivalry, strife and selfish obstinacy. That is why we need to put every effort into spreading and strengthening Christianity in Norway, and outside our borders as well. In the lands of the Slavs, in Iceland, and in Greenland too. And now, my daughter, I shall tell you a piece of news which gladdened my heart - the wife of Erik the Red was baptized yesterday. She is a wise, pious woman, and truly devoted to the Faith. I doubt, of course, that she will be able to convert her husband - Erik the Red will agree to be baptized when the glaciers in Greenland melt away. His son Leif is a different story, though. He can and must be baptized. Have you had the chance, daughter, to talk to him about saving his soul from eternal damnation?"

"Yes," said Thorgunna, "and I fear that he has some sinful inclinations which make him think too much and ask sacrilegious questions, and these are preventing him from accepting the light of the true Faith. But I am certain the case is not hopeless."

"Of course not, child, of course not," said the king. "Greenland matters to me. Greenland will develop, even though it is such a distant province. Its importance in the trade of pelts, ivory, and seal and whale blubber is rising with every year. One day, when the chieftainship passes into his hands, Leif Erikson shall be an important man."

…"Don't you think, Leif," said Freydis, arranging her earrings, "that it is a little strange, to receive an invitation to supper in the princess's private chambers? I mean, it is a great honor... too great, in fact. What have we done to gain it?"

"This I cannot say," replied Leif. He was dressed in clean clothes, washed and groomed as much as he was like to be. Today he spent a long time in the bathhouse, although it was not Saturday, the day on which he normally washed. His mother and Freydis wore their best, and waited impatiently for the intended hour. Their curiosity was mixed with excitement and, in the case of his sister, with suspicion as well.

The servants led them to the chambers of the princess, and she got up to receive them with noble cordiality. Her rooms were well-heated, and so she could wear light garb despite the cold outside. The dress she chose for the occasion was made of expensive Byzantine silk, in all the colors of autumn leaves, scarlet and orange and deep dark red, and leaves were embroidered upon it in golden threat. Jewels studded with amber adorned her neck and ears and were entwined into her braids, which looked darker than usual in the light of the scented beeswax candles.

"It is an honor, Princess," said Thjodhild.

"You must have wondered at the invitation," said Thorgunna, looking from Thjodhild to Freydis, but hardly glancing at Leif. When he entered, it instantly seemed to her that his presence entirely filled the spacious chamber where she usually received her guests, so that it suddenly seemed too small. So tall he was, and his shoulders so wide, and his red hair fell upon them like a fiery mane.

"We have heard much of your famous hospitality, Princess," said Freydis in her pleasantest voice, "and are honored to witness it."

"The truth is," said Thorgunna, "that I have wanted to converse with you ever since your arrival at Trondheim. I have always been highly curious about everything connected with Greenland, and I have asked countless questions of any man who was fortunate enough to visit that faraway and fascinating land. And well, you have spent your entire lives there, Freydis and Leif - and you, Thjodhild, your husband was the founder of the settlement. But I haven't had the opportunity to speak with you in a way that would encourage a quiet and pleasant conversation, and I thought... in short, I thought I'd create such an opportunity myself."

She smiled charmingly, and two dimples appeared in her cheeks. She had small, white teeth of an extraordinarily pretty shape. Despite the beauty of her smile, Leif sensed a trace of awkwardness in it, and Freydis thought, I can smell the king's guiding hand here.

The princess called her servants, and the table was covered with delicacies which could only be tasted at festive occasions at the royal hall: wild roosters cooked in a sauce of wine and fragrant herbs, fish in forest mushrooms, fresh wheaten bread, an array of cheese and very choice wine. The wine was truly delicious, and under other circumstances Leif would probably have been tempted to drink more of it, but now something told him he must remain sober.

Princess Thorgunna displayed a true knowledge in everything concerning Greenland, and Freydis was an ample source of tales about life in Brattahlid, and of legends concerning the Skraelings, some of which were told by her in the most amusingly terrifying way. Still, Leif noticed, and honored Freydis for it, that she divulged very little of what could be called useful information - anything that would be useful to someone who’d think of taking over the land.

"I can understand that the place awakens your imagination precisely because it is so far, Princess," Leif said finally. "The truth is that life there isn't too exciting. Our settlements are small, the winters fierce, the nature harsh and the work heavy. Most of our lives consist of daily grind. Even exploration trips inside the country or sailing along and beyond the coast, which are supposedly the essence of adventure, include a lot of tedious work such as preparing food, hunting and setting camp, cutting firewood and so on. There is nothing extraordinary in what we do."

"You are being modest, my son," Thjodhild said affectionately.

"I wish I could cut firewood sometime," said Princess Thorgunna, "or set a camp under the open sky. It sounds so… refreshing."

"What a strange thought, Your Highness!" said Leif and laughed. "Trust me, such things only sound appealing when you have never done them yourself."

"But that is the nature of men," said Thorgunna with a smile, "we find interest in what we have never done... and what we seem unlikely to ever do."

After that, to the vexation of Freydis and Leif, the conversation slipped into the realm of religion, the Church, and the merits of Father Wilhelm, whom Thorgunna and Thjodhild admired and saw as a spiritual guide. When more and more quotes from the New Testament began to sound, promising eternal hell to those who do not accept Jesus as their Saviour, Freydis started to yawn secretly, and after a few minutes declared that, to her great sorrow, she is plagued by a terrible headache.

"With your permission, Princess," she said, getting up, "I feel I shall moan with pain if I stay any longer. If you give me leave, I shall retire to my chamber and rest."

And in her heart she thought, this girl is a pretty creature, but alas, a boring one!

Thjodhild got up as well.

"With your permission, Your Highness, I will join my daughter," she said with an apologetic smile. "If she is unwell, she might need me."

But the quick look she sent in the direction of her son spelled, You didn't think, of course, that I would take the chance of leaving her alone!

"And you, Leif?" asked Thorgunna when the servants showed Thjodhild and Freydis the way out, and the door was closed behind them. "Will you stay for a while longer? See, good hot honey cakes are just brought to us, and there is also sweet golden wine, even better than what we drank before."

"I am at leisure," said Leif, "I only need to present myself at morning guard. But I beg you, princess, I am not good at talking of religion - and if you forgive me, the name of Father Wilhelm does not cause me fervent tremor when it is uttered. Excuse my honesty, and let us talk of anything that does not have to do with Christianity."

"Well," Thorgunna hesitated and decided to let the matter drop, though his words did not please her. "Tell me of yourself, then."

"There isn't much to tell, Your Highness," Leif said modestly. "I am a simple man, a sailor, a navigator and occasionally a warrior. I have already told you all that is worth hearing of our travels, and of our life in Brattahlid as well."

"Tell me of your youth," asked Thorgunna, "the youth of a man is always interesting."

"I cannot tell of my youth without mentioning my wife, Maura," he said evasively.

"Tell me of her, then," said Thorgunna, and her heart missed a beat as she saw the heavy shadow that passed across his face. "Would that cause you too much pain?" she asked with concern.

"I suppose not," said Leif, though it was easy to tell the words cost him a great effort. "Her death was senseless but probably inevitable, and five years have passed since it. But my wife remains a part of me. When I try to talk of her, I do not know where to begin."

"How did you meet her?" asked Thorgunna.

…Leif was a lad of nineteen years when he met Maura.

He remembered that day as if it were yesterday.

Helgi's ship arrived at Brattahlid - he remembered they had already begun to worry, for Helgi's arrival was delayed more than they expected. If he had lingered abroad too long, the powerful frozen winds could prevent him from reaching a safe shore. No one could envy an unfortunate sailor who would try crossing the sea between Iceland and Greenland during the winter.

But Helgi returned safely, and with a nice profit from the goods he sold in Iceland and Greenland - walrus ivory, white bear pelts and whale blubber. His ship was full of timber, rolls of finely woven wool, dried fruit and spices. He brought something more precious still, too - a few families of free men, with their wives, children and household folk who came to settle in Greenland. Most of them were Icelandic landowners who left behind them debts, conflicts with neighbors or with the law, though there were also an adventurer or two who arrived at Greenland because they were seized by the desire for change.

Erik and his family gladly received the new families, but they were highly surprised by a woman who sailed alone - an exceptionable event. She was a young woman, unaccompanied by a father or a brother, and from looking at her it was easy to tell she was not from the north. Her hair was black as coal, her skin the shade of olive, and her eyes intelligent and dark. Her clothes were old and patched, not at all adequate for the cold of Greenland, her hair messy and unkempt, and her face determined. When she was asked what she seeks, all alone, in a foreign, frozen land the tongue of which she hardly speaks, she replied:

"I want to work for a living. I will do all I am told. I can wash clothes and cook, spin, weave and sew, scrub floors and shear sheep - any work that needs doing."

Thjodhild took pity on the lonely woman and took her into the household. Soon it turned out the newcomer is a diligent worker, tidy and precise, and talented in all the womanly crafts. At the end of a day, when her regular work was done, she would sit in a quiet corner and do knitting or embroidery at her leisure. The rooms were always neatly swept and well-arranged, and the food she cooked - after she learned the local preferences - exceedingly good. She did her work with dedication and goodwill, and Thjodhild was happy for gaining such an efficient worker under her roof.

It was hard to tell what exactly attracted Leif to this young and silent woman. She was far from being a beauty. It was true that her figure was good and her stature upright, and her hair, after it was washed and brushed, turned out to be smooth and shiny, but there was a sort of hardness in the features of her face and in her movements - a force which prevented any appearance of feminine tenderness. Thjodhild was generous and supplied the woman with all she might have needed, and her tattered rags were soon replaced by good clothes - but she chose garb of the most simple cut, grey and drab, while all other young women made every effort to look handsome in the eyes of possible bridegrooms. Her lovely hair she gathered in a tight knot, smooth and unblemished but strained and severe, and her overall look was akin to that of a nun. Neither did she like to laugh, and though in a few months she learned the local speech quite well, she remained silent and thoughtful. Even Thjodhild, who was sorry for her loneliness and attempted to make her acquaintance with outstanding kindness and generosity, could hardly make her speak. She didn't like to tell about herself, and didn't bother to acquire friendships among the other young women.

Despite all this, Leif soon found out her name - Maura, her age - twenty-two, and her place of origin - one of the coast villages in the land of the Galls, though Helgi's ship collected her from a place along the shores of Britain.

Be that as it may, it wasn't long before Leif found himself thinking constantly of the young, odd woman whom he saw moving quietly about the house and doing the chores efficiently and diligently, though her face looked as if she were somewhere far away.

In Greenland, there were always more men than women, and every unmarried woman, even if she wasn't a great beauty, would get her share of attention. The able-handed, hard-working Maura soon received several offers of marriage, all of which she curtly refused. And it wasn't contempt or a feeling of excessive superiority - the thought of marriage just didn't appeal to her, it seemed.

At the same time, nineteen-year-old Leif had already gained quite a few victories in the field of love, with single women, and also with married ones, whose furious husbands Erik had to keep quiet by generous compensations. After that, he summoned his firstborn to a conversation during which he warned Leif against the burden of bastard children.

"You don't want to get into trouble, Leif," he said, "nor to acquire enemies. Remember, the settlements of Greenland are small and each man is well known to his neighbors. We are free men, and there is not one ruler who might take the women of his vassals as he wills."

"It is not at all about ruling," said Leif with a mischievous smile. "You are the chieftain here, Father, not I - and what can I do if there are women who want nothing more than to get into my breeches?"

His mother was more decisive.

"You need a wife, son," she told him. "Why don't you choose a suitable girl and settle down? Thorbjorn would doubtless have offered you Gudrid, if she weren't so young. But there should be no trouble to find you any good, sweet maid for a bride."

"I would marry," said the troublesome Leif, "if I could find a girl with whom I should not be bored after the passage of an hour."

"Marriage is not about excitement," his mother told him. "It is supposed to be a source of peaceful happiness, and to run smoothly and uneventfully."

"It sounds terribly unappealing," Leif complained with a smile. "Why should I sentence myself to such a fate when I am so young?"

"Stop this, Leif. It is good to marry young, this way you can get used to one another easily and live happily later on. Here, look at Thorvard and Freydis - they are already betrothed."

"I had warned Thorvard," sighed Leif, "but what is there to be done if he says he cannot do without her? And here, I am obliged to see how my good friend gets himself into a double snare."

"A double snare?" his mother repeated suspiciously.

"Indeed," said Leif. "One, marriage. The other, Freydis."

"Stop this," Thjodhild said angrily. "Sometimes your jokes are insufferable, Leif."

That occurred a short time before the arrival of Maura.

When Leif first noticed her, his attentions were shallow and careless. He was a handsome lad, tall and well-built and in possession of unstudied manly good looks. His blue eyes were startling, and his red hair attracted all eyes to his face like a burning halo. Usually, his road to conquering a woman's heart was short and didn't include much effort beyond a few smiles and compliments. But now, Maura paid not the least attention to him, and Leif personally experienced the power of the ancient feminine weapon - sincere indifference.

There had been women who pretended to be indifferent to his charms, but it was usually a game, and not a very convincing one. Maura, on the other hand, looked at him as if he were a broomstick or a clothes brush.

One of those days, he walked into the kitchen. For some reason, lately hunger began reminding him far more often that he needs to seek refreshment - and then, of course, he would step into the kitchen, where Maura could usually be found preparing the food - mixing, kneading, chopping, tasting, salting, cooking and baking.

He didn't know whether he should laugh at, or be vexed with himself because his heart skipped a beat at the sight of a young, stern-looking woman in a simple brown dress, the sleeves of which were rolled up to her elbows, and with hands covered in flour. She was kneading the bread dough upon the large, flour-sprinkled wooden table. Some of the loaves were already in the oven, and on another table Leif saw also some ready ones, warm and delicious-smelling.

"Good morning, Maura," he told her. "You probably had to get up in the middle of the night to have all this bread ready by now."

She didn't favor him with so much as a look. "I get up when I must," she said with obvious lack of enthusiasm, kneading on.

"The kitchen is dark and cramped," said Leif. "You need to get out of here sometimes, to breathe some fresh air and amuse yourself a little."

"The kitchen is always warm," said Maura in an unfriendly tone. "I don't mind being here even all day long."

As to the question of warmth, he had nothing to say. Firewood was costly in Greenland because the forests were so few, and the houses were always cold, because they could only be heated for a few hours every day - even though all efforts were made to preserve the warmth within and to seal every crack. The kitchen was one of the places where the baking ovens and the hot cauldrons created a warm, pleasant, dim atmosphere throughout most of the day.

"It must be hard for you to get used to the cold," said Leif. "You came from places far to the south from here, after all."

Maura left her dough and looked at him grimly. "I assume you didn't come here to ask me when I rose or how cold I am," she said.

"Oh no," said Leif. "I simply felt very hungry all of a sudden. Do you have anything for me?"

Maura shook flour off her hands, lifted a large knife and, without a word, cut several thick, even slices of the dark, satisfyingly hot rye bread.

Leif fell silent, sat at the edge of the table and sprinkled salt on his bread, and for quite a while he ate in silence and looked at her without saying a thing. Maura continued to work in expert, swift movements, taking the ready loaves out of the oven and putting in new ones to bake, sprinkling flour on the table and kneading dough. Her hands were strong and her fingers deft, and Leif couldn't help thinking how these fingers might feel on his skin. At that moment he felt he uncovered one of the secrets of his attraction towards her - her movements were so smooth and full of confidence that they lent her a certain grace, though she was not at all a beauty.

"Maura," he spoke again eventually, "where are you from? And how is it that you came here all alone?"

She threw him a piercing, suspicious stare, and said across her shoulder, "I do not see how this concerns you."

"Is there any butter?" he changed the topic.

"It will be breakfast time soon," said Maura.

"I will not stay until breakfast," said Leif. "Thorvard and I are going to hunt."

Silently, Maura placed before him a bowl with soft yellow butter. He ate and didn't take his eyes off her. In her eyes there was a certain black chasm of misery and pride blended together, a secret which was beyond this world, and which he felt he must discover.

That very same day, as he returned from the hunt, he asked Helgi how he had met Maura on the way to Greenland.

"Ah," said Helgi, "that is certainly an interesting story. You might not know this, Leif, but the reason why we stayed away so long was because on our way home there was a storm that threw us straight to the shores of Britain."

Leif nodded and signed for him to go on. Helgi had the annoying manner of complaining in a very tiresome way, after every journey, about the hardships he had had to endure.

"Well," Helgi went on, "there was one village we saw from aboard, a pretty large place, and we decided to throw anchor there and to get supplied with more food and fresh water. I gave orders to the boys to raise the oars and we reached the shore - the villagers weren't exactly happy to see us, but after we made it very clear we aren't Vikings, and are ready to pay our way, they agreed to let us throw anchor. And well, after one night there, we saw smoke and flames and a great confusion. It turned out a fire broke out there, and we knew we have no reason to stay. We hurried to go on board again and were about to raise anchor, when we saw the girl running towards the shore.

And I tell you, Leif, it was a rare sight. Her hair was all a mess, her feet bare, nothing but a thin shift on her back, and in her eyes the mad look of a deer preyed upon by wolves.

'Please,' she said, with the last bit of air that remained in her lungs, 'please, take me with you!'

And you might not believe this, but we all just stood there, rolling with laughter. Imagine that, the people living along those shores pray to their god that the Norse ships never reach them - and here, this girl is asking to come with us - we weren't Vikings, true, but she had no way of being sure of that. And this, of course, told quite plainly she had nothing to lose. At that moment, I thought she must be a slave who decided to take advantage of all the mess and confusion of the fire and escape, but I can only guess what might have prompted her to join us - people who could, as far as she knew, rape, torture and kill her without a second thought.

'Woman,' I told her, 'you have no idea what you are talking of. We raise sail and go to a cold, lonely place at the end of the world.'

'I don't care,' she said, 'even if you are sailing to hell. Anything but to stay here!'

'And what do you suggest we do with you?' I said, half-amused.

'I can do anything,' she said decisively, 'all the work of home and field; I can tend to flocks and serve as a midwife and spin wool. In every settlement and every place, there is need of working hands. I am a hard worker and can show gratitude. Take me with you, and you will not regret it.'

And when she saw I was hesitating, she added:

'Take me with you, or I shall jump into the flames!'

And I tell you, Leif, my friend, she meant it. She had an utterly mad look in her eyes, one of desperate determination.

'Let's take her,' said Tur upon hearing this. 'Let's take her to Red Erik, and he will decide what to do with her.'

We helped her climbed on board. She was shivering from cold. The women pitied her and lent her some rags to keep her from freezing to death until we arrived here. She hardly said a word throughout the entire sail, and she hardly says a word now. She is very strange. I, too, am curious about the story of her life, but it doesn't look like she is very likely to tell it."

After that, Leif decided that other measures are necessary, and for this, he came to ask the help of his brother, Thorvald.

When Thorvald heard his brother out, he laughed. Thorvald was then a young lad with fair hair like flax and blue eyes, and just beginning to grow the wisps of a beard. He was no worse looking than his brother, but his shyness and mildness made him appear younger than he truly was.

"Maura is not like all women," he told his older brother. "I see it. In my opinion, it will be better if you leave her alone. She is not for you. And frankly, for some reason I doubt she will want any man in Brattahlid or the entire world."

But Leif insisted, and came out with a gain - his brother gifted him with the words of a song, which was later sung by Leif to Maura, the woman his heart desired.

I fought for long, but now can fight no more;

The walls are strong, but love shall make them crumble.

Oh, fill for me with mead a heavy horn,

With hands at once magnificent and humble.

How was the red wolf caught in snares of gloom?

You look at him, you see him fret in worry.

You bring me forth my senseless, needless doom

While you can give me life, and hope, and glory

But I shall wait. A week, a month, a year -

I promised to the moon that I shall follow.

The strength of love will set the ice astir

Around the heart of beauty proud and solemn.

He sang her this song in the kitchen, while she was busy cleaning fish. She did not look at him until he was done, and even when she finally did, it was as if she did not really see him. Her hands were covered in silvery scales, and no muscle moved in her face. When she spoke, her voice was indifferent.

"Give my compliments to Thorvald," she said, "he has a great talent for composition."

But it wasn't this easy to embarrass Leif.

"I could have been the one to write this verse," he said, "if I had Thorvald's talent. My brother has a wonderful ability to put words together, but he has no beloved to hear his poetry - while I have a woman in my heart, but cannot rhyme two words to save my life. A pity, isn't it? And here is a solution - Thorvald will make up the poems, and I will give them true feeling when I sing them to you."

"Leif," she said, and he secretly congratulated himself, for this was the first time she said his name. "Maybe I haven’t made this quite clear, but I did not come all this way to become the mistress of the landlord's son. That I could have been anywhere."

"Well, if you are so set against being my mistress, how about becoming my wife?" he asked.

Only after the words left his mouth, he understood what he said, and did not even really know whether he truly meant them or not. He waited for her answer with a powerfully beating heart, but she didn't bestow even a single look on him, and went on with her work. Now she gutted the fish, pulled out their entrails and threw them into a clay bowl that stood at the middle of the table.

"Anyway," Leif went on bravely, "I cannot understand why a woman would wish to sentence herself to a miserable existence without a man, no matter whether she is lucky enough to be his wife, or whether she has no choice but to settle for the position of a mistress."

Now Maura did look at him, and a glint of anger could be plainly seen in her eyes. Her lips were pursed, as if she was trying hard to keep silent. In her right hand she held the large knife, stained with fish-blood, as if it were a sword.

"My work is enough for me," she said finally, and bent her head to the table again.

Following all this, she remained a mystery to Leif. Apparently, he should have given up. Until then he had not been a very fervent pursuer of women, because he knew that for each who did not want him, ten would be delighted to have him, even if there is no chance he would ever marry them. But in this case, the outlook was quite different, and it wasn't only about the fact that Maura refused him and thus set him a challenge. He felt there is some hidden secret deep within, away from his eyes. Could it be that she had suffered from unfortunate love and was reluctant to get hurt again? Or perhaps something in his ways clashed too strongly with the customs she had been brought up with? Or perhaps it was the fact of him belonging to a faith different from her own? He had never seen Maura pray, but this did not mean she was faithless, he thought to himself. He was determined to get closer to her. He had to break the ice encasing her.

And he chose quite a bold way to do that.

When Maura had arrived in their home, she said she doesn't mind at all where she should sleep, and was ready to settle for a little space on one of the benches in the main hall. But Thjodhild, who was like a protective mother to all the girls and women under her roof, insisted on the women having their own space, which was separate from the men.

Maura, therefore, shared a room with Ingebjorg, a girl who had big blue eyes, curls the color of wheat, ample curves and very thoughtless ways. Every month she had a different admirer, with whom she would disappear for a night or two. About a year after the events mentioned below, Ingebjorg was forced to make certain changes in her behavior. She became pregnant, the man was made to marry, and she became a faithful wife, had five children and grew very stout.

It was the night of the Yule, and the entire settlement was supposed to gather in the traditional celebration - the beginning of the Great Hunt of the gods. Usually, Leif made sure to be in the center of the festivities, but this time he slipped away and made an effort not to be seen.

He knew Maura would remain at home alone, for she never participated in any celebration or dance. Every time there was a gathering, she fled to the inner rooms to be alone.

In her zeal for work, she lingered for a few minutes to sweep once more the floor of the big main hall, and Leif quickly and silently darted into the room of the serving girls and hid among the shadows, behind two wooden cases which contained all the clothes and possessions of the women - the bigger of Ingebjorg, the small of Maura. He did not move, but wondered how come she did not hear the beating of his heart when she entered the room.

The little room was cold, and Maura did not hurry to take off her clothes before getting under the bedcovers, which were mostly made of sheep pelts. First, she released her hair from the tight knot which always kept it from tumbling down, and began combing it. The comb, which was made of deer horn, was one of the few pretty items in her possessions. She passed it in long, slow movements through her raven-black hair, and Leif held his breath.

This was the first time he saw her hair unbound, and it was glorious in its beauty. It fell in soft waves down her shoulders, thick and soft, and shiny even in the dim light of the single candle.

After she was done combing her hair, Maura took off her outer clothes. She wore a simple shift of roughspun wool, and thick warm woolen socks. The Greenland winters were pleasant to none, but she felt the cold especially strongly, being unused to it. She shivered and hastened to get in the bed. Then she blew out the candle.

The room was now utterly dark, and Leif waited until her breathing would steady and she would fall into deep sleep. Then he got up carefully, in dread of making a sound, and began his slow way towards her bed.

When he was close enough to be enveloped by the scent of her hair, he stopped for a moment and inhaled deeply. Her scent filled the cramped space, and she smelled of summer fruit and sea salt and something warm which he could not define in words and which made his head spin. He hesitated for a brief moment, and then put a hand on her waist.

She moved slightly in her sleep, but did not wake. Then Leif gained courage and wrapped his strong arms around her. She woke with a start, but he put a hand over her mouth and laughed quietly and delightedly, and held her tighter still. He wanted to kiss her, but she kept wriggling, trying to slip away from him, and he could not find her lips in the dark.

A moment later, he felt a sharp pain piercing his arm, and a trickle of something hot which was undoubtedly his blood.

"Oy!" he shouted. "What's the matter with you? It's only me!"

He let go of her, and she lit the candle again. The shadows flickered in the room, mingling with the weak light. Maura's lips were trembling with fury and her eyes burned, and her chest moved up and down to the rhythm of her heavy breaths. In her raised right hand she held the sharp knife she had used to clean the fish. The knife was stained red, and in the light of the candle Leif saw that the sleeve of his shirt was torn and that a lot of blood was trickling from the deep cut in his arm.

"I cannot say I did not expect this," said Maura with terrible calm.

"You are out of your mind, aren't you?" Leif said angrily, trying in vain to stop the flow of blood. "I could have lost an eye!"

She shrugged. "I wouldn't grieve very deeply if it were so," she said coolly. "Your father is a just man, he would have stood by me. When I arrived here I conversed with him, and told him I am ready to be anything but a man’s plaything. He promised me that here, women have the same choice in such matters as men do. Now get away from here."

The next day, Leif attempted to tell he cut himself on a protruding nail, but the rumour soon traveled about, and in no time everyone in Brattahlid were laughing at the expense of the unfortunate suitor.

"Ah, Leif, you are sophisticated, no doubt," chuckled Freydis. "Yes, to be sure, this is the best way to gain the heart of a woman who won't even talk to you - get straight into her bed!"

Leif grimaced and touched the fresh bandage around his arm.

"I must say I did not expect such resistance on Maura's part," his sister went on. "After all, you are not ill-looking, and though I personally find it hard to put up with you sometimes, you know how to flatter girls - and Maura does not look like someone who is used to a trail of admirers. Besides, I'm certain she is no maid."

"How should you know?" Leif asked with great interest.

"Call it a gut feeling," said Freydis with a shrug of her shoulders.

Leif learned his lesson, but by no means gave up. Actually, he was more determined than ever, even though Maura ignored him completely since the nightly incident. If prior to that she was at least ready to exchange a few words with him, now she simply ignored his existence.

"You must apologize to her," his friend Thorvard, who would become his good-brother, advised him. "Tell her you did not mean to besmirch her honor."

"But it was only a jest," Leif said desperately. "I did not really mean to rape her or anything of the sort! I only attempted to shake off that indifference of hers."

"Well, then, my friend," said Thorvard, "you will probably have to think of another way to do that."

"I suppose so," Leif said distractedly.

A day later, he announced to his family that he is going to hunt for seals.

"You are mad," Freydis told him. "The men could hardly dig paths in the snow, which soon will be as high as the windows, and I can bet you that soon there will be another storm. How can you think of going hunting?"

"Freydis is right," said Thorvard, "but I will go with you. I cannot allow you to go out on your own in this weather."

"No, Thorvard," cried Freydis, "my brother probably lost his mind, but it's his own business if he wishes to freeze to death or be buried underneath an avalanche of snow. You stay here."

"There is no need to," said Leif, seeing the expression upon Thorvard's face; his friend was obviously torn between worry for him and his inability to refuse Freydis. "I intended to go alone anyway."

But even after Leif had gone, Thorvard could not stop worrying.

"It is madness," he said, "he need not have gone."

And as the hours passed, he made up his mind to go and look for his friend.

"I must go," he told Freydis, who begged him to stay and allow others to look for her brother. "I had gone out to hunt with Leif many times. I think I know where he might be. I must look for him."

And indeed, Thorvard returned after a couple of hours, supporting his friend, who was exhausted from walking in the snow. If Thorvard had not set out to look for him, he would doubtless have died.

In the days that followed, Leif was very quiet. He did not go out to hunt or train, but only helped his father run the settlement business, and later took advantage of a break between snowstorms and went together with Thorvard to the house of his parents, Thorbjorn and Aslaug, in the Western settlement. There he spent several weeks.

On the day he was back in Brattahlid, he looked as he had before, and when evening came he appeared in the kitchen again. The pots were already clean, and Maura was sweeping the floor diligently. She made no sign of noticing him, but he sat by the table.

"Forgive me, Maura," he said simply, and she looked at him in a stern, detached way, and said nothing for a long while.

"Of course," she said eventually in a cool voice.

But he understood she did not speak from her heart, and continued sitting alone for a long time after Maura retired to bed. He could not take his eyes off a shawl she forgot, wrapped around one of the stools, a large dark shawl she had knitted herself in her free time. His heart was full of pain to a degree he did not expect, and he felt as if he was knocking on a heavy locked wooden door, set in iron hinges. He put his face on his crossed arms, and sat this way, and did not lift his eyes even when he heard her returning footsteps.

Maura looked almost embarrassed. Her fingers clutched the woolen shawl that was the reason why she returned to the kitchen. She looked at him as if considering how much she should say, and eventually sat on a stool next to him, and when she spoke, her voice was softer than ever.

"Leif," she said, "do not torment yourself so. I forgive you. I had treated you in the way I did mostly out of stubbornness. I had no idea this would cause you pain."

He lifted his head up and looked at her. He was tired, and understood that what worked faultlessly with other women would never do for her.

"I do not understand you," he said. "I try, but I cannot."

"That is clear," replied Maura. "You do not know me. No one here truly knows me."

"But I do want to know you," said Leif, "and I don't understand how it will harm you if you allow me to get near you."

For a long moment they both looked at the glowing embers of the dying fire. Maura's face was lit by the dance of the red flames, and her eyes were two black wells. She looked at the young man next to her, and felt a sudden pity for him, though he was tall, healthy, strong and handsome. Yes, I find him handsome, she understood with surprise. I could have liked him, if my life weren't what it was.

"Helgi told me you had asked how I came on board his ship all alone," Maura said cautiously.

"Yes," said Leif, "and he told me, but it still isn't clear to me -"

"I was not always on my own," said Maura. "I grew up in a home with my mother, father, brothers and sisters, and I was happy and loved. That was in a small village far from here, many years ago. I was a child, and memories are sometimes shifty, but I do remember clearly that I was happy."

One day, I was playing behind the house, and suddenly I heard loud, urgent voices. At first I thought it is Mother, scolding one of the children - but then I heard screams all around, screams of fear and the hurried receding steps of people running away; and then, though I was little, I understood the worst had happened: the strangers we had always feared reached our shores. We had lived in a perpetual fear of them, and Mother told me many times what to do if the pirate ships reach us - run, run, run to the fields and never look back. But I could not. Worry for the others paralyzed me, and my legs failed me.

I will not tire you with too long a story, Leif. You must already be guessing what happened next - what usually happens. Me and many others from the village were kidnapped and sold into slavery. My parents and siblings I never saw again, and I don't know what became of them. Perhaps they managed to escape, perhaps they were taken by a different ship, or maybe they lost their lives in the flames. The last thing I saw before my terrified eyes, from aboard the swift ship, was a great fire where my home had been.

Along with two other people from my village, I arrived as a slave at the house of a rich man. The two who came with me were craftspeople - an experienced smith, and a woman who was very talented in making fine lace. They were both appreciated for their skills and treated fairly decently, got a warm place to sleep in and plenty of food. I, on the other hand, was just as a child, though I already learned a fair bit from my parents in all the chores of home and field. I was sent to the rooms and to the kitchen, to do simple chores which did not require much skill; and a few years later, when I matured, I was brought as a plaything into the master's bed. That lasted only a short while, and after he was tired of me, he intended me to fill such a position for all the guests and friends who spent a night or two underneath his roof and did not object to a bed-slave. There were times when I attempted to resist and was cruelly beaten. Finally, I gave up resistance because my life, for some reason, was still dear to me."

For a few minutes, they both sat in silence, she deep in her thoughts, he seeking her eyes with his. Her face looked very hard now, and her eyes burned with a determination he never met in any woman.

"I always believed," said Maura, "that a day will come and I will be free again. And it came indeed. The day on which I was released from slavery was very like the day on which I was taken captive: flames, screams of fear, and a foreign ship carrying me away, far from it all. It probably appears odd to you how I dared ask to go away with the Vikings, when people of their kind ruined my home in the first place."

"Helgi is a sailor and trader, not a Viking," said Leif. "Though of course, you could not know that. And I... well, I am a hunter and a warrior, but this I can tell you with all honesty - I never forced myself upon a woman who did not want me, and never found the idea appealing."

"Living as a slave is torture for one who was born free," said Maura, "but perhaps I could have resigned myself to my fate; I could have said this is the way of the world. For can you not think of people who aren't called slaves, but live as such? But I could not go on living as a source of amusement for an idle hour. Ten years and countless men, and every time I felt as though my soul was trampled. There were times when I attempted to die, but an inexplicable stubbornness didn't allow me to proceed with this. I owe my life to Helgi, who allowed me to come on board his ship, and to your father, who gave me a place in Brattahlid and a decent life, a life in which I can sustain myself by the work of my hands, be it ever so humble."

For a long time he looked at her, and finally gained the courage to take her hand. She did not pull it away from his, but her fingers were motionless, lifeless and cold.

"You are a brave woman, Maura," said Leif. "You gained your freedom, and never again you will be with a man you don't want. But know this, I intend to make you want me. I shall marry you.

She gave a short, mirthless chuckle.

"Did you even listen to what I told you? My spirit is destroyed, my body is broken, I am a miserable shred of a woman. I can never be happy again. I was forced to amuse countless men, but I have never known the love of one, and I can never give love to any man. I am twenty-two, Leif - older than you by only three years, but you are a boy, while I feel that my life is running out. What would you want with someone like me?"

"Nonsense," Leif said decidedly. "You will see that your life, like mine, is only beginning. I have many dreams I do not intend to give up. I will continue my father's work and strengthen Brattahlid. Thorvard, my brothers and I will take charge of settling other parts of Greenland, and will penetrate the depths of the land - and I shall sail west and south, to lands where no man had ever walked, and raise new settlements there. I will give names to mountains and valleys, rivers and fjords. And in every dream, you are by my side. I could have chosen any woman, but I need someone clever and brave, someone who will not fear to walk with me into the unknown and stand firm against me when I am mistaken, as every man sometimes is. It is you. I need not look any longer, I know it is you."

In the dim light of the candle, he did not take his eyes off her face, and it seemed to him her eyes are brighter than usual. In her simple roughspun dress, with her dark hair neatly brushed and pulled into a knot, she looked to him wonderfully beautiful and closer than ever, beloved, belonging to him. And when she spoke, for the first time he heard her voice tremble.

"You are delirious," she said. "It can never happen between us. Not ever."

… The further progress of Leif's courtship could be described in detail, but what for? It will suffice to say that the young people married not long after the aforementioned conversation took place. Their wedding was directed by the customs of Leif's forefathers. Rings were slipped onto the fingers of the newlyweds, and a hammer symbolizing Thor's war-hammer, Mjolnir, was placed in the bride's lap. When they shared the traditional wedding chalice, full to the brim with mead, Leif thought the drink was more delicious than anything he had ever tasted before. And all the guests who tasted the mead from the wedding chalice said as one man that there was a miracle and the mead in the chalice was sweeter than the rest served at the wedding feast, though its source was from the same barrel - and that was a sure sign foretelling a happy, successful marriage.

The next five years were happy and busy. Maura was everything he had dreamed and more. If his family was surprised at first because of him choosing a bride of such low birth, their doubts were soon dispelled when they became convinced that no other woman could have been such a good wife and useful helpmate to Leif. She prompted and encouraged him in his journeys and joined him on most of them, without fear, disregarding the uncomfortable conditions. She was shrewd and clever, and managed his home faithfully, and gave example to all the household men and the servants in diligence, and in her readiness for any work, be it ever so hard or tedious. She never became arrogant because of her uplifted position, and never abandoned her quiet, modest ways. She entered her marriage with heavy fears and doubts she could not ignore - but the wounds, as Leif promised her, had healed, and love nourished the hearts of the two just as a clear stream feeds the plants growing on its banks. No one but her husband knew Maura's full story, and he did his best not to remind her of what she had told him on the night when he first became certain they are going to marry and live together.

On account of his marriage, Leif postponed his plans of sailing west. When they married, he got good land from his father and built a house. Being a landlord took a considerable amount of his time, though he was happy in all his doings, and inspired by the undiluted joy of his wife.

"I came to Greenland thinking I would be a servant," she said, "and here I am, a queen. I have a corner in the world to call my own, something I had not even dared to hope for ever since I was a girl. And I have your love, my handsome lad, and in it all that is dear to me in this world."

"I had promised you," said Leif, and his bright blue stare caressed her, "that you will be happy with me."

Leif's relatives soon got over their apprehension of Maura's foreign descent and different habits. His father respected her sharp mind and her honesty. Freydis found in her a loyal friend, one like herself, who is not bogged down by petty littleness and finesse. And Thjodhild, whose tender heart told her of a deep, dim pain hidden behind Maura's dark eyes, adopted the young woman for a daughter and was happy to see how Leif's natural liveliness enlivens her as well, and how Maura's good sense and sound judgment direct and bless every venture of her husband's.

Just one circumstance cast a shadow upon the couple's happiness - a year passed, then another, but a child was tardy in coming. Leif attempted to remain silent, even in the face of his wife's disappointment when her moon's blood returned at regular intervals each month.

"I fear that my body is damaged beyond repair, Leif," she told him one night in tears. "Throughout the years, I had been given a herb tisane to make me infertile, so that I would not have bastard children. Perhaps this is why I cannot conceive now."

"We don't and cannot know that for certain," he said softly, caressing her hair. "Do not torment yourself."

"I will not blame you if you take another woman, so that you may beget sons," Maura said quietly, averting her face. "But I will tell you this, Leif - if that is what you decide, we shall part. I cannot and won't tolerate the presence of a mistress."

"I will have no woman but you," Leif said resolutely, "even if it means I will die childless. I will be sorry for it, of course, as you are, my love - but I have two brothers. The family line will go on in one or other of them."

… Leif fell silent. The magic of memories faded away, and Maura, the scent of whose hair and the warmth of whose body he could almost feel a short moment ago, turned once more into a pale shadow smiling at him from a distance, most of the time in encouragement and only sometimes in melancholy. Once more his senses were taken over by the luxurious chamber, the fire burning merrily in the grate, licking the logs with many red hot tongues. His head swam a little from the wine and the memories, and Princess Thorgunna was sitting in front of him. Her young face put on an expression of sadness, probably because she already guessed the end of the story and didn't dare to ask for its details.

"After four years, Maura was finally with child," Leif said eventually, after a long silence. "You can imagine our happiness. But she died in childbirth, and my son died with her."

"I am sorry," Thorgunna whispered, and he appreciated the honesty of the sorrow he sensed behind the simple words. Still, he averted his eyes, and his face remained expressionless.

"That is the way of the world. There are women who are destined to die in childbirth. Five years passed since that happened." Five years that sometimes seemed like an eternity and sometimes like the blink of an eye.

Thorgunna got up from her place and approached his seat. Now she was standing above him, and he lifted up his head and looked at her. Her eyes sparkled with tears, and upon her face he saw an expression akin to that which he noticed while they sat at church. She wanted to say something, but only a fleeting quiver passed across her lips. Leif was embarrassed, and something fluttered within him.

"I never meant to make you feel so distressed, Princess," he said. "I am a simple man, and every man has his story."

She put her hands forward and held his face between her palms, and the touch of her hands was like a caress of velvet upon his scruffy cheek. For a moment, neither of them moved, and it seemed as though not even a breath of air or the sound of a heartbeat broke the deep silence. It was as if they were both standing on the top of a sparkling white mountain of ice, alone in the middle of the sea, detached from the entire world - and in the next instant the decision fell, the iceberg flipped over, the sea waters gushed around them.

She bent and kissed him.

For the first time in her life, a man's lips were touching her own, and the kiss was soft and innocent. But then his eyes found hers, and the passion she saw in his gaze made her head spin, and she fell into Leif's lap, and her arms were wrapped about his neck as if of their own accord. The scent emanating from him was manly and clean, unlike any she had inhaled before. And he kissed her, he kissed her, he kissed her, again and again and again.

Only a few words were exchanged between them, and those that were said in the darkness of the room were forgotten the next moment, and they mattered no longer. Sapphire and emerald, fire and copper, sea salt and white mountains - got closer, connected and blended together, and finally fulfilled their purpose - to become one.