The Norseman (The Norseman Chronicles Book 1) by Born Jason

Author:Born, Jason [Born, Jason]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Halldorr Publishing
Published: 2012-01-03T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 8

We awoke one morning during that first winter in Kaupangen with the howling wind picking up bits of ice and throwing them against Olaf’s hall. It had been weeks since we used horses and rope to pull the ships ashore for the long winter. The Yule time had passed already as well, though Crevan and Olaf forbid us from calling it that. We still burned the Yule log for days around the solstice, but Crevan insisted we were celebrating the birth of Jesus. Most of our men accepted the new faith with little effort as long as Crevan didn’t ask too much of them. They drank like warriors.

Those of us in Olaf’s household troop and the commanders of his best ships slept in his great hall. Some of those men brought their families back to Norway and they, too, joined us in the vast longhouse. Other families swiftly built homes in our new city before the weather set in. Still others had to sail back to Norse settlements in Dyflin or Jorvik or Sudreyjar because they did not have time to complete shelter before winter.

That morning, with the ice spitting at us, I awoke with a thundering headache earlier than the rest of the hall. My forehead rumbled from a bad barrel of ale that was tapped the night before. From the moment my lips touched the brew, I had known it was turned. That didn’t stop me from downing mug after fateful mug.

Others would soon be awake with the same symptoms, I was sure. I sat up from my place on the floor and peered across the smoky hall using the dim light provided by the central hearth. Bundles of wrapped bodies were scattered over the hall trying to stay warm. Platforms, like those in our homes in Greenland, lined the long walls. They too contained men of Olaf’s court and their women. As a rule, the children occupied the floor, but I chose to sleep there like a youngling because I didn’t have anyone with whom to share a bed.

I kicked off my blanket and stumbled across the floor to the hearth. I wrapped my cloak around my shoulders. The cold was seeping into the hall. I could see my breath. My toe kicked the heap of new sails the women were working on that winter. It normally took them an entire season to make one new sail. We had enough women in the hall and surrounding village that we would likely be able to make two this winter. My sail, the red and white striped sail on the Boar, was old and worn, but I kept it well patched since I was still attached to the cloth. I skipped over the pile closer to the hearth and for the first time could feel the nascent heat from the red embers.

As I picked my way over the people sleeping on the floor, I paused for a moment looking at two sisters curled up to one another for warmth.

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