Excerpt
As the companions travelled, Keallach, Bjorn and Ari hunted small game and
sometimes they fished. Rordan, Ula and Yamka gathered edible mushrooms and dug
for roots and, following a full day’s trek, prepared the evening meal. Rordan was
quite happy to join the girls in a task normally left to women.
Bjorn, Ari, and Fire Maker emerged from a forest of alder, maple and birch, between
two mountain slopes, into a flat river valley partially shrouded in scatterings
of early morning mist. In the foreground was a wide meadow rich with new grasses
and spring flowers in yellows, purples and whites. Beyond the meadow, a reed-filled
marsh partially surrounded a sparkling lake.
The three had set out ahead of the others with lines and a net to catch trout for
breakfast. In the distance, Finten rattled off morning prayers with Keallach and Ailan
while Rordan, Ula and Yamka sent joyful laughter echoing through the boulders
of the steep mountainsides. Fire Maker walked in silence and didn’t seem to mind
that Bjorn and Ari conversed in the language of the Norse.
“She is wonderful,” Ari said. “If I were to spend the rest of my life with one person
… What I am trying to say is …”
Bjorn didn’t wait for Ari to finish his sentence. “Maybe, when we arrive at Fire
Maker’s homeland, you should ask Ula to marry you. Have you asked her if she feels
the same?”
“She is always with Rordan.”
“Why would he mind? His kind do not marry; they have a vow.”
“I know that, but I do not think Rordan is bound to that vow.”
Fire Maker signalled a silent pause. A cow moose lifted its gigantic head from the
morass of bulrushes, trailing a steamy clump of dripping swamp grass. Slowly chewing
her mouthful, the animal was content to observe the interlopers.
“If you really want to be with her,” Bjorn continued, “take her by the arm and lead
her away from Rordan, then tell her how you feel about her.”
The conversation was over as Fire Maker, who had walked a little way ahead, came
to a stream wide enough for good fishing. Bjorn and Ari hurried over to join him
with lines in the water.
Whenever the sun crossed the hills and mountains to set in the west, Fire Maker
and Finten became the campfire storytellers. With an apparent knack for language,
Father Finten was already fluent in the Mandan tongue. He related his stories from
the Old and New Testaments in ways both monks and laymen could relate to. He was
determined to make many converts when they reached the Mandan Nation. It was
his sacred mission.
The best stories belonged to Fire Maker. Everyone listened carefully when the
chief spread his hands to begin a story. In his deep, soft voice, he wove his tales with
expressive hands that cast wild animal shadows in the flickering light of the campfire.
“Long ago and long ago and long ago, the gods who made this land fought a
mighty battle to see who was strongest. Spirit of the North covered the land with
snow and ice. All the plant life went to sleep. The living creatures travelled many
moons south along the edge of the great salt water.
Manolis Aligizakis 