The United States of Vinland: The Landing (The Markland Trilogy) by Colin Taber Page A

followed suit by reaching for their own blades
whether stone, bone or iron.
    Halla
stepped forward between the groups, a hand resting on her swelling belly. “Have
you lost your senses? We are all to be found of our own kind in Markland, and
that means we need to work together!”
    Straightening
up to face her, Thoromr cursed and then turned to Eskil. “What is it with your
women? Is it that they all dare to speak with the supposed voice of the gods or
that they have taken your balls while you slept?”
    Eskil
stepped forward. “They are entitled to speak.”
    “To
their husbands and children, perhaps, and also to your lame sheep...but not to
me.”
    “They
have earned our respect with not just their actions and labour, but also their
words. We would not have survived without them.”
    Thoromr
mocked, “I thought you said the gods brought you here?”
    “They
did, but not to lay about in sloth while awaiting their favour. They brought us
here to work for them and to make the most of what we have been given.”
    “Enough!
I shall be leaving!”
    “If
you wish.”
    Thoromr
turned to face his three fellow Lakelanders, standing with his trembling
thrall, who slowly dropped down to squat by his feet. “Come, this is no place
for us.”
    Until
now, his men had said little, but their faces spoke a range of emotions.
    Alfvin
was the first to break the silence. “They are right, Thoromr. We need to stay
together. It is the only way we will survive in this new land.”
    Ari
then spoke up, and anger laced his tone. “Together they say; it is nothing but
wisdom. They have a message to heed, not spurn!”
    Thoromr’s
anger grew, just as his father’s would have. “Spurn! They are being enslaved!”
    Ari
answered, “You have become bitter like your father, almost poisoned against the
gods and this land. Your anger is not fired by being told what to do by women,
but rather that your mother is not doing the bidding!”
    Alfvin
held up his hands in an effort to silence the growing fury and soothe the heat.
But Trion broke the brief calm, stoking the fire once again. “Hold, Ari and
Alfvin; Thoromr is right about malady being in this place. Yes, it would be
wiser for us to work together, but that does not mean it has to be. Besides,
maybe we are unable to work together. Perhaps we should live separate lives and
build our own farms and futures. We came here not only to be free of the agents
of the White Christ, but also free from the rise of new kings.”
    Thoromr
smiled at Trion’s words, turning toward Alfvin and Ari – particularly the
latter – his fellow’s harsh tone still ringing in his ears. “You can stay here
if you will, but I intend to return to Lakeland and take my sheep.”
    Eskil
said, “You will be going nowhere without our raft, and about that we have yet
to agree.”
    Thoromr
pushed his chest out and widened his stance, his one free hand now well and
truly settled on the hilt of his knife. “Are you coming with me, Trion?”
    The
Lakelander looked first to his fellows and then to Gudrid and Halla before
striding to join Thoromr. Turning back to face the others, he looked to the
remaining skraeling women and barked for Thrainn’s thrall, “Huncha, here!”
    One
of the women rose and scurried across to Trion, swapping worried glances with
Thoromr’s thrall and the two left behind.
    Thoromr
said, “And what of you others? Who will go with me to live in Lakeland?”
    Ari
shook his head angrily, still fuming, while Alfvin looked on in grim silence.
    “Then
this is the breaking of our fellowship.”
    “It
was long broken, long ago," Alfvin agreed darkly.
    Eskil
spoke again, eager to calm the tension in his hall. “If you must go in this
manner, we still offer our friendship, as there may yet be times ahead when we
need to talk or seek each other’s aid.”
    “I
want none of yours!”
    “So
you say, but who is to know what may yet befall any or all of us.”
    “Bah,
you sound like the Christians’