Glendalough Fair by Nelson James L

Author:Nelson, James L. [Nelson, James L.]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Fore Topsail Press
Published: 2015-12-31T08:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Six

Good is health if one can but keep it,

and to live a life without shame.

Hávamál

The river was growing shallow, but Thorgrim did not notice. He was tending to Starri, still wrapped in his fur nest in Sea Hammer’s stern.

They had stitched Starri’s wounds closed that morning, working on him while the men at the oars pulled the longship upstream against the current and Agnarr manned the steering board. Harald had offered to do the sewing, thinking himself skilled at that task, but Thorgrim had enough ugly scars on his body, made uglier by Harald’s handiwork with needle and thread, that he said he would do it himself.

He worked slowly, drawing the flesh together as best he could. Sometimes Starri flinched when the needle pierced his skin, sometimes he did not. When the wound on his chest was done they rolled him on his side and Thorgrim stitched up his back, and then they laid him flat again. Thorgrim mixed broth with ale and made Starri drink. Starri opened his eyes and looked up at him. There was confusion there, and a faraway look.

“Night Wolf,” he said, the words barely a whisper. He said no more, but Thorgrim knew it was a question and he knew the answer Starri was seeking.

“You were wounded, Starri. But you are still among the living.”

Starri closed his eyes and nodded his head, just a bit, and then drifted off to sleep again.

“You did that well, father,” Harald said. He and Thorgrim were looking down at Starri’s seemingly shrunken form. “The stitching. But aren’t there herbs or poultices we could apply?”

Thorgrim shook his head. “I don’t know how those are made,” he said. “Those are the arts that women know. Me, the others here, we can stitch wounds and splint broken limbs. But real healing? That’s women’s knowledge.”

He looked up beyond the confines of the ship, larboard and starboard. The river was still wide here, four or five rods from bank to bank, and Thorgrim could see it was running above its normal confines, the water lapping over grassy fields rather than the pebbly or muddy banks that would normally form the river’s edge.

The reeds jutting up from the river bed were bending slightly under the pressure of the moving stream and his men leaned into the oars as they pulled against it. With the water high and the river wide, the current was not so bad here, but he wondered how long they would be able to stem it, and how long it would remain deep enough for their keels to pass over the bottom.

Ottar and his five ships had taken the lead, despite Thorgrim’s best efforts to get underway first. That had annoyed him, and he had allowed himself the luxury of indulging his anger. But as he did he had a vision of his children when they were much younger, racing to breakfast after morning chores. He recalled marveling at how silly they were, Harald and Odd fighting each other for the privilege of being first.

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