Chapter Three

Eric sets out on his quest

CHAPTER 3

Eric spent the night in Ragna’s hut. He got up before sunrise the next morning and Eithne and Ragna helped him to get ready. He wore a long tunic made of reindeer skin, which was very tough and nearly as good as armour at protecting him in a fight.

Ragna had a little bag tied at her waist which rattled when she walked. Eric wondered what was inside.

“The runes” she explained to him.

She took out a little stone followed by another and then another. The stones kept on coming, each one with a different mark on it, and Ragna laid them on the ground in a row. The wise woman studied the stones.

“Danger” she said.

Ragna put the stones back in the bag and drew them out once again. This time she smiled.

“You will be blessed”, she said. “You will succeed.”

The two women helped Eric to mount his horse, and handed him his travel packs which were filled with useful tools and food. Eric also had a sword, a shield and a battle axe.

He looked at the wise woman and the chieftainess a little uncertainly.

“You know which way to go?” asked Ragna with a stern look. “You haven’t forgotten what the plant looks like?”

“I remember”, answered Eric.

“Then may the gods speed you on your way, Eric Ivarrson” said Eithne.

She stood with the wise woman and watched as Eric rode away

towards the north. It was not an easy task as the path rose up and down with every turn. It went in and out of great oak and beech forests and the ground was often very muddy. Every now and then Eric passed near a farm or a village but he dared not stop. For all he knew he could be carrying the illness. He did not feel ill himself. He had none of the symptoms, no aches, no fever, and no cough, just a slight head ache was all.

“I need to stop for something to eat and drink” he thought.

The main thing on Eric’s mind was how he would cross the sea. Maybe he could steal a boat. That’s what Ragna had told him to do. But Eric had never stolen anything in his life. He was still too young to go raiding. He was just a farmer, like his father and like most of the others in his village. There was only one thing to do; he needed to make a raft. He had an axe, rope and some tools and there were plenty of trees about. He would make a raft and sail across the sea, and then he could paddle up the Gotefjord. Eric felt much more hopeful now he had a plan.

By evening, Eric’s horse was getting tired. The trails were always very muddy at this time of year and they had to cross streams and a river or two. There were no bridges, only fords where a river ran shallow.

Eric had been avoiding farms all day but as night fell he felt it was safe to sneak into one. He would need a fresh horse tomorrow if he was to reach the fjord quickly. He looked carefully around, but could see no one about. Silently he untied one of the farm horses, and then he tied his own mount in its place.

“It is not stealing” he told himself, “only trading. The farmer still has a good horse. It’s just a bit tired and dirty, that’s all.”

Once he was back in the trees, Eric settled the horse for the night. Then he had a quick supper of bread and hard boiled seagull eggs, made himself comfortable and was soon fast asleep.

Early the next morning, Eric got ready to leave. He wanted to be on his way before the farmer woke up. Would they come after him when they saw the horse? Maybe, but then again, perhaps not. It was a busy time of year for farmers while they harvested their crops. Most likely the farmer would just accept the replacement animal and carry on as usual.

Eric picked up his bags and they both fell from his hands onto the ground. Puzzled, he looked at the straps and found they were broken. A closer look showed they had been cut with a knife. Someone had sneaked into his camp while he had been asleep and sabotaged his bags. Eric had been so tired when he lay down that he had slept soundly all night.

There must be some way he could mend the strap. But first Eric needed to get as far away from the farm as possible. He tied the broken straps together. That would have to do for now. Fixing the bags to the horse’s saddle he led the animal to a tree stump. Eric stepped onto the stump and mounted the horse. He always found it easier this way, no chance of slipping backwards onto the ground. If there was nothing for him to stand on, his short legs made it hard to scramble into the saddle, and he didn't like asking for help in the village. People teased him so.

After about an hour’s ride Eric decided to stop and give the horse some water. Then he tied it to a tree while he ate some bread and drank some ale. All Vikings drank ale, even the children, because the well water was bad to drink.

It took Eric a little while to stitch the broken straps together. He had watched his mother sewing loads of times so he didn’t find it too hard. Soon he had finished; the straps were whole once more.

“A job well done”, he thought to himself.

Then Eric heard a rustling and twigs snapping not far away. He grabbed his sword and looked around trying to see what was making the noise. Something was moving about in the trees. He set off to investigate, leaving his camp unguarded but he was found nothing.

On his return to camp all seemed to be in order. His bags were where he had left them, the axe and shield were still there but his sleeping blankets had been dumped on the ground, and there was no sign of the horse. Whoever had been lurking in the trees had doubled back stolen his it. Eric had felt earlier that he was being followed. Now he was certain of it.

Eric hoisted up his bags and weapons and set off on foot. It would take him longer to reach the fjord now, but that couldn’t be helped. Half a day’s good walking should see him at the sea. So off he went at a steady pace, always on his guard for signs of his pursuer.

By late afternoon he reached the sea and began to set up his camp a little way into a group of nearby trees. This far north it stayed light almost all the time at this time of the year.

“I should make a start on the raft”, Eric thought

Cutting firewood was one of Eric’s chores at home. He may have been small but he was strong and could swing an axe easily and in no tine at all he had enough logs for a small raft.

While he was fixing the logs together, something struck Eric as unusual. Other trees had been cut down. Not long ago it seemed. There was someone else there, and that someone was also building a raft. Could it be the same person who had cut his straps and stolen his horse? Eric shook his head.

“You are imagining things”, he told himself. “This place is deserted. There’s no one around for miles.”

He left the raft on the beach and went back to his camp. In amongst the trees he imagined once more that he saw someone moving.

“I’m not following you this time” he called out.

Eric cut a long stick with his knife. He sharpened it into a point and went off to spear some fish for his supper.

When he arrived at the beach he dropped the spear and ran to the raft, or what was left of it. All his hard work had been undone. All that was left were the rope, and a pile of logs. And it was getting late. There was no time to mend the raft and no raft meant no fish for supper. There was some dried meat in his pack. He’d have to make do with that. He would begin again after he’d had some sleep.

But in the meantime, who on earth, was trying to stop him? Who was trying to sabotage his quest?