A Bone to Pick (12 page)

Gudrid does not really mind the chance to go outside — she needs the fresh air. But when she reaches the edge of the settlement she does not see the children. Instead she sees the form of a great white bear rising on its hind legs and looking very angry.

“Thorfinn Karlsefni!” she screams. “Come quickly!”

When her husband hears her cries, he comes at once. “The children, where are they?” he asks when he sees the danger.

“I don't know. I'll look for them.” Gudrid returns a few minutes later, her face as white as snow. “They haven't returned to the settlement,” she whimpers.

“Get your weapons, men,” commands Thorfinn to the crowd that has gathered. “Arrows, spears, axes!”

While the men head off to fetch their weapons, Thorfinn races toward the meadow. If he has to, he will fight with only his fists and wit. When he realizes he is too far, he yells to distract the creature. But the bear is focused on something else, and it roars and bares its teeth. Thorfinn thinks there is a streak of red seeping down its chest as it growls at something small and crumpled on the ground. Then Thorfinn realizes what it is.

“Sigrid!” he cries. “Oh, gods of Asgard, do something!” As if his prayer is heard, a stream of arrows falls from the sky and rains down on the bear. The great animal lets out a frightening bellow and drops heavily in a heap, blood pouring from its wounds.

When Thorfinn reaches the scene minutes later, the bear is still and lifeless. A short way off his son is resting his tiny head on Sigrid's chest. The boy's cheeks are stained with tears. Thorfinn drops to the ground beside them both. He gently shakes Sigrid, but it is clear her spirit is gone. When he tries to pry Snorri away, the boy refuses to let go of Sigrid's tunic.

Finally, Snorri climbs onto his father's lap. That is when Thorfinn glances at the lifeless, bloodstained heap and the arrows protruding from the bear's body.
How could that be?
he wonders.
Where did they come from?
Then he notices Sigrid's silver cloak pin stuck in the animal's neck.

“Oh, Sigrid,” Thorfinn wails. “Brave young warrior. Go in peace. You have fought well.” Thorfinn wipes his eyes, buries his head in his hands, and thinks back to the day he taught her to defend herself. He told her then, “If you're going to kill, then drive the sword in like you mean it.” He saw then that she enjoyed the sport but did not possess the ruthlessness to actually kill another.

“But she tried, Snorri, and she did it to protect you. Rest in peace, my dear girl.”

It was a long night for Bertha and me. She was restless from the pain in her hands. And I couldn't sleep because I had all the events of the day stomping around in my head. The worst part was finally doing something right, but no one knew about it. I wouldn't have minded so much if at least Eddy believed me.

“You're a good girl, Princess. If ya ever want a reference, just call me. And if ya ever want to be my cook's help again, well, don't,” joked Bertha. Her throaty cackle sounded like the blender when I overfilled it. At least it meant she was in a decent mood that morning.

“How do your hands feel?” I asked.

“They hurt like hell, but they're better, tanks.”

Bertha's hands may have been mending, but she still couldn't do much. She made the orange juice, poured yogourt into cups, and mixed the fruit salad. I did the rest — scrambled five dozen eggs, prepared all the fixings and condiments, cut up all the fruit, made the coffee, and set up the dining hall. If this had happened two weeks ago, we'd have been in trouble. But at least now I had a handle on making scrambled eggs. Though Bertha did catch me about to add too much chili powder again.

“The recipe says a couple of teaspoons, Princess, not a couple of tablespoons. Ya can read, can't ya?”

It was funny how that kind of stuff used to get under my skin, but now I just shrugged it off.

When everyone arrived, breakfast was piping hot and ready to go. Bertha stayed in the kitchen to avoid questions about her hands, and I served. I was anxious to see how people liked my cooking. Even though I'd never admit it to Aunt Margaret, I was kind of proud of the fact that I'd improved. I think I was even starting to like cooking.

“Hi, Eddy,” I said when she got to the front of the line. “Do you want your breakfast burrito with or without beans?”

“With beans, thank you.”

I spread a scoop of beans on a tortilla and added the scrambled eggs and salsa, then rolled it all up. “Here you go.” I was getting better at rolling the tortilla so all the stuff didn't squish out.

“Looks good,” she said. “Ah, Peggy, I'm sorry about last night — for not believing what you told me.” I knew Eddy meant what she'd said by the way her eyes were all soft.

“I guess I can understand why you didn't believe me. I mean, I have bungled a lot of things since coming here. So why did you change your mind?”

“Because of me.” I looked over and there was Robbie smiling. “I told her what really happened.” I must have seemed confused. “You see, I was out in the hall when you were talking to Professor Brant yesterday. I heard the whole thing — like how you discovered the connection between the saga and the cave paintings. Later, during our lecture, he told everyone about it, only he left out the part about you being the one to put the pictographs and the bear skull together with the Norse girl. Everyone assumed he was the one who figured it all out. When he did nothing to correct their misperception, I got really peeved. I mean, who does something like that? Taking advantage of a little kid is just repugnant. Anyway, that's why I went to see Professor McKay this morning.”

I was a little offended by the “little kid” part, but other­wise I was pleased and grateful to her. “Thanks, Robbie.”

“That's okay, kid. I knew Professor McKay would know I wasn't making it up — seeing how we haven't exactly been best of friends. Besides, there's nothing I hate more than an arrogant liar.”

I suddenly recalled some of the boastful things I'd said when I first arrived at L'Anse aux Meadows, and felt blood rush to my cheeks. At least I hadn't lied. “Well, it doesn't really matter as long as you guys know,” I said.

“So what, now all of sudden you're humble after weeks of showing off?” Robbie said. “I don't think so.” My cheeks were really on fire now. “Credit should be given where it's due.”

“I agree,” said Eddy. “It was excellent deductive reasoning, and because of you we're able to understand how these events are connected. It will move our study along much faster.”

“Someone would have figured it out sooner or later,” I offered.

“You're probably right, but all the same, you did some good work here,” Robbie said. “So now all we need to do is figure out how to turn this to your advantage. I mean, you do want to get back into that cave, don't you?”

“Do I ever,” I blurted.

“Well, just follow my lead.”

I wasn't sure what she meant but decided to wait and see what happened. When everyone was finished their meal, Robbie started tapping her fork on her coffee cup and continued tinkling until everyone stopped talking and turned their attention to her. Then she stood up.

“I know last night we acknowledged the professors for all they've done to make this a great field school,” Robbie said. I noticed Professor Brant's chest puff out as if he was sure she was referring to him. “But I just want to take this opportunity to thank some other people. First, I want to make a toast to Bertha for being the best camp cook.” Everyone cheered and applauded enthusiastically. “Come out here, Bertha.” At first she refused, but when everyone began banging their cups on the table and saying, “Bertha, Bertha, Bertha,” she finally wrapped her hands inside a tea towel and came out to the dining hall.

“Tanks, it was my pleasure. You're a nice bunch of people,” she said modestly. It was amusing to see big Bertha appear so demure. Not exactly the way I'd come to know her.

Then Robbie continued. “And I think we should acknowledge the cook's help. She's been notorious for being a preteen know-it-all —” my face suddenly melted like hot wax “— but she made a lot of progress both in and out of the kitchen.” The applause for me was hardly audible. “And though she's prone to burning toast and her muffins are terrible —” Robbie's speech was starting to sound more like a roast rather than an acknowledgement “— she's got a real talent for figuring out puzzles. Isn't that right, Professor Brant?” Everyone looked at the professor, who shrugged as if he were waiting for the punch line to a joke. “Peggy, why don't you tell us how you realized the cave paintings depicted an event in one of the Norse sagas?”

I stood up, aware that all eyes were on me. I'd been trying to get these people to take notice of me ever since I'd arrived, and now that they were I was wishing they'd stop. Awkwardly, I began to explain how my interest in shield maidens led me to Niko, the saga expert, to learn more about them. “He told me the story of a girl who came here more than a thousand years ago. Her name was Sigrid Thorbjornsdottir. She was brave and strong and wanted one day to be a warrior — not a common thing for females at the time. Only her first battle turned out to be her last when she met with an angry and hungry polar bear.” I then explained how I realized that the cave paintings appeared to be telling a similar event and when I showed my sketches to Niko he agreed with me. When I finished my story, there was a long silence.

Finally, Robbie said, “That's great, Peggy. And what's really neat is how instead of keeping all this valuable information to yourself, you went straight to Professor Brant with it and told him all about it. Isn't that right, Professor?”

Professor Brant had beads of sweat on his forehead, and though he was smiling, it was one of those “I'm a dork” smiles. “Well, of course,” he admitted, “the girl helped … somewhat.”

“The girl's name is Peggy,” Eddy said. “And I'd say she moved things along considerably. And though she did make some serious mistakes, it would be a well-deserved reward if she and her friend, Louise — who I should add was responsible for finding the cave — were given permission to spend some time there. I, for one, think we could use their help.”

The professor didn't object. I think he was just glad nothing else was said. So, later that day, Louise and I joined Eddy in the cave. When I entered, I had goose bumps all up and down my arms and back. The first thing I wanted to see was the exposed bear skull. It was huge, and its jaw was opened wide to bare its dangerous teeth. I got a creepy image in my head of the day the bear had killed Sigrid. I figured even Thor couldn't have brought down a bear so big without the help of the Beothuk.

I was envious when Eddy told me she was staying for another week to finish excavating the skull and then arrange for protection of the site, which for now was called Three Girls Cave — after Louise, me, and Sigrid. What was worse, Louise was going to help her.

“Don't worry, Peggy. You're still my right-hand girl.”

Even if I was jealous, I knew Louise deserved this chance.

As Eddy and Louise examined the bear skull closer, I took the flashlight and walked around the cave. Now that I knew what had happened, all the pictographs made perfect sense. There was the Viking ship arriving with the pointy-chinned Norsemen. Next were several scenes of hunting, trading, and fighting. Near the end was the scene with the bear and Sigrid's death.

“Eddy, I didn't notice this before,” I said, pointing to a small pictograph just before the departing ship. She and Louise joined me, and we all studied it together. “It looks like a fire down by the beach — and something burning in the middle.”

“It is done. Her body is washed and prepared for cremation,” Gudrid says softly. Her grief is great, yet she does not have one tear left to shed. “Is the funeral pyre ready?”

“No,” says Thorfinn. “We must gather more wood. The fire must be big enough to consume every part of her. Only then will her spirit be released and be free to journey to its rightful place.”

They both stare at the neatly wrapped body lying on the table. Only Snorri, who plays alone on the floor, seems unaffected. Yet even he cried for her all last night.

“To die so young — it should never have happened,” Gudrid murmurs.

“True, yet to die so bravely — it's how every warrior chooses to go.”

“She was a girl, Thorfinn Karlsefni, not a warrior. You never should have encouraged her to think she was anything else. Maybe then she'd still be here with us today.”

T
horfinn points to his son on the floor. “He's the reason she isn't here with us today. Because she had the heart of a warrior she fought to protect Snorri. Gudrid, can't you see? More than anything she wanted her life to have purpose, and nothing would have made her more proud than to end her life in battle defending someone she loved.” Thorfinn pounds his chest to stop himself from shedding tears. “For this she will live out her days in Valhalla. Oh, Gudrid, can't you see? She would never have been a good wife or mother no matter how hard you tried to make her.” His wife says nothing, for in her heart she knows he is right. “I only hope that I should go so bravely and not as an old man in my sleep.”

Gudrid slumps onto the bench. “You and your grand ideas of dying with honour. I don't want to hear any more of it. The fault is mine. I was the one who sent her out there alone.”

Gunnar enters the house and senses that he has come at an awkward moment. “Excuse me, Aunt and Uncle, they wish to place the body on the pyre now.” Gunnar cannot lift his eyes to where the body rests. Sigrid's voice — heard only the day before — still rings in his ears. Now she is far away, and he will never see her again.

When Thorfinn gives the signal, Ellandar sets the pyre alight and almost instantly it bursts into flames. They watch as the glow of the fire lights the night sky. Then a watchman is set for every hour of the evening, ensuring the flames continue to burn bright and that they lick up every last ounce of Sigrid's body. As the smoke rises to the sky, it carries with it her spirit into Asgard.

The next morning, when the sun peeps over the horizon, there is nothing left but ashes. Before they cover them with soil and rocks, Gudrid kisses Sigrid's hammer-shaped amulet and places it on the remains. Thor's Mjolnir pendant was the only thing the girl had of her own mother's. Then Thorfinn places her cloak pin in the ashes, too — the one she used to stab the bear. “You may need such a thing where you are going, Sigrid.” When the last of the ash is covered and the rocks placed over the grave, the community returns to the settlement.

“Now we'll wait the necessary seven days, and after the celebration of Sigrid's life, we'll set sail,” Thorfinn tells his wife. “Despite all that's happened here, I'll miss this place and all its potential. But it's clear to me now that it will never be home to the Norsemen.”

All that week the settlers work to complete their tasks. Some must gather, dry, and store sufficient food and water for the journey. Others load furs and fell trees to lash to the sides of the knarrs.

“Uncle, Uncle!” shouts Gunnar, arriving out of breath. “It's not there. It's gone.”

“What are you talking about, boy?” Thorfinn asks. “What's gone?”

“The bear. The bear.” No one asks what bear, for it is understood immediately what the boy is speaking about.

Thorfinn and others go with Gunnar to the scene of Sigrid's death. When they arrive, there is no sign of the bear's carcass. Thorfinn leans down and examines the ground carefully. “Someone has butchered the animal. Look here — you can see fragments of bone and scraps of fur.”

“And the boulders here are covered in blood and flesh. They must have used this as a chopping block,” adds Gunnar.

Thorfinn turns slowly, looks toward the forest, and has an eerie feeling of being watched. “Let's go. There's much to do.”

No one speaks of the incident when they return to the settlement. It will only upset the others.

The day the men row the knarrs away from the shore the sun is high and the winds are strong. When they are a safe distance from the rocky shoreline, Thorfinn gives the order to set the sails. Soon each of the three ships picks up speed and the Norsemen head northward.

Thorfinn holds his son as they watch the settlement get smaller in the distance. Then Snorri becomes restless and reaches back to the land. “No leave Sig-id,” he whimpers. “No leave Sig-id .”