God's Hammer by Eric Schumacher

Author:Eric Schumacher [Schumacher, Eric]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Creativia
Published: 2005-01-31T13:00:00+00:00

Chapter 23

Like wildfire through a summer forest, word spread that Sigurd's estate was open to all those in need of food and shelter for the winter. The only stipulation was submission to Hakon as their king, which, judging by the numbers that soon came, bothered no one. To Hakon's utter delight, more than fifty refugees from West Trondelag arrived within a few days—far more than they had expected—and more still from the coastline of North More, which Erik had attacked on his southward retreat. Thanes, freemen, and thralls alike came by boat, by horse, and on foot. Most brought their livestock, household utensils, and any food and possessions they'd rescued from the remains of their homes. An unfortunate few, however, arrived with nothing save the clothes that covered their starving frames, and came to place their heads to Hakon's knee on limbs weakened from cold and exertion.

Sigurd housed those who came according to their rank. Thanes and their families slept in the main hall, freemen occupied the guest hall, and thralls crowded into the various huts. The available spaces were soon filled to the point of overcrowding. Sigurd fretted that patience would soon wear thin among his guests as comfort dwindled along with the amount of free space. Surprisingly, it was the wealthy who caused Sigurd the most grief. Long accustomed to household servants, or perhaps lulled by the ease of Sigurd's manner, they let their belongings spill out onto the floors of the main hall, draping the interior in a multicolored mantle of hose, tunics, cloaks, boots, and belts that one could not help but trample underfoot. It was impossible to move from one side of the hall to the other without bumping into another guest.

Work began immediately on expanding the estate to accommodate the swelling number of newcomers. With the gray skies now carrying a promise of snow, the men swiftly set to the task of building a second hall, a storage shed, a barn, and an oven in the hopes of providing enough room and comfort in time for winter. All about the estate, the air reverberated with the unremitting thunk of axes, the crack of broken tree limbs and falling pines, and the yells of those toiling in the wooded hills surrounding Sigurd's hall. Horses labored with carts stacked high with planks and reeds for Sigurd's walls, posts for support, and small logs for firewood.

By the end of the second week, the skeleton of two structures rose in the empty spaces between Sigurd's halls. Crudely carved beams swung upward under the grunts of those working them into place. Women worked in, under, and around the men as they wove the wattle between the thicker posts. Nearby, the children set to work on the daub that would be packed into the crevices between the wattle.

Not everyone focused on carpentry. Sigurd employed other men and women in solving a more basic need—food and clothing. He sent them to the fields to harvest the rye and barley that grew there.

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