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Njord lifted me out of the boat and placed me on the wooden planks of the docks. After sitting down for so long and swaying back and forth, I nearly lost my footing. Njrod steadied me with me with his hand on my shoulder and once he felt I was good, he turned his attention back to the ship.
Another Northman who I didn't recognize, grabbed my cloak and pushed me into line behind the monks. I stumbled into Mathus and he turned to glare at me. This glare didn't last long as a rope was tied to his already bound wrists and connected to mine, linking us.
I quickly looked back to Njord as the line of monks began slinking up the docks through a cheering and yes mocking crowd, towards a huge structure, smaller than the monastery, but larger than any other building I had ever seen.
Njord was helping to unload sacks of gold and other pilfered treasure from the monks, but I was desperate to get his attention, afraid to be separated from him, I felt a connection with the Northman who took me who had protected me, I felt I would be safe as long as I remained by his side, like I always felt with my father.
"NJORD!" I yelled and tried to turn my whole body around, Mathus kept walking, his head held high, praying to his god; he yanked the rope so I stumbled, my bare feet tripping on some loose planks.
The Northman who had grabbed me reached over and smacked the back of my head with his big bear like paws and I bit back a cry. My head throbbed and my feet ached, I tried to catch Njord's attention.
Njord finally glanced up and saw the desperation on my face, he gave me a comforting smile, putting his finger to his lips, telling me to be silent. I took a deep breath, fighting back my tears. I had trusted him not to kill me, I had trusted him to look out for me, I had no choice, but to continue to trust him now.
I couldn't understand any of the Norse words being shouted as I struggled to keep up. Too much Norse being yelled and screamed made it tough to understand and the laughter was just as bad.
Most of the taunts were directed at the monks, proudly displaying their gold jewel infused crosses, loudly praying to their god to watch over them and grant them strength, clasping their hands together in prayer. I was clearly an afterthought, most of the villagers took no notice of me; save for a few children my age, who tugged on their parents' clothes, gesturing to me, pointing, some giggled some looked at me with sympathy. The few adults who did notice me, whispered amongst themselves, studying me.
The procession stopped in front of the great lodge and a man dressed in fine furs approached the Northman Einar, a no nonsense warrior who had shouted repeatedly every time the other Northmen slipped me extra food or taught me their language on the boat. Einar had led the procession thus far and halted the group with a single look.
Still holding the rope, he greeted the well-dressed man and I wondered if this was a king...did the Norse have kings? Or did they have chieftains, men and women more powerful and important than any English king chosen by the gods and goddesses themselves.
Einar gestured to the line of us and to the riches being unloaded and the man seemed very pleased...who wouldn't be, the priests and monks stored treasures and riches like animals store food for the winter.
They coveted gold and silver, they steal it from the people of their own faith who are looking for an easy way to enter their heaven to atone for deeds they have done or by selling pagan children to the nobility, even after promising the king to convert and civilize them. I had seen this happen first hand, two days after the soldiers had handed me over to the monks; a well-dressed man on horseback with several soldiers came to the monastery.
I was kept locked in a small room with Aodan and two other boys. The monks were keeping us in the room to basically tire us out, hoping that limited fresh air and limited food and little contact with the monks might weaken our resolve. Though the real weakening we would find out would come the following day when they separated us going with the solitary idea so we couldn't influence each other.
However this particular day as we fought and pushed each other to gain a fresh breath of air from the one window in the room, we watched the nobility and his soldiers ride up. The well-dressed man never dismounted his horse instead one of his soldiers approached the priests handing them a sack.
The main priest, whose name we never learned examined the contents of the sack, and even from our room we could see how pleased he was, we saw the glint of gold in the sunlight and stared in awe at the riches below us. He snapped his finger and a boy none of knew even existed was brought out by to monks, he looked terrified and had clearly been crying.
Though he was dressed in better clothes than us, the boy's mannerism and physical appearance was like ours, he was a Celt, but subdued, like all the fight had been driven out of him, leaving only a good Christian boy like the Monks wanted to turn us into. He couldn't have been more than seven or eight, the same age as my younger brother.
The soldier examined the boy and looked at the nobleman who nodded his approval. The soldier took the boy by the shoulder and escorted him to his horse. Once the boy was on the horse and the soldier sitting behind him, the party left. I never knew exactly where the boy was taken and we never knew his name or how long he had been at the monastery or where he was from. We just know that the nobleman took him and he was not the last boy would we see taken this way and I'm sure was not the first.
A hand being placed on my shoulder not only brought me out of that memory, but made me jump as well. I had to hold back my excitement at seeing Njord standing there. He called out to the two men, namely the finely dressed one, using a word I distinctly recognized, lord.
So I had been right, the man with the furs was important, a chieftain or a king I still wasn't sure, but definitely respected. Keeping a firm almost protective hand on my shoulder, Njord gestured to me, speaking loudly and excitedly. The lord nodded and said something to Njord, gesturing for him to come.
A knife flashed out of the corner of my eye and for a brief moment I felt the cloak of the Bean Nighe washing over me, before the rope binding me to Mathus was cut and Njord led me towards the lord and the great lodge.
The lord spoke once more, addressing Einar, he nodded and led the line of monks down another path and out of sight. I wondered for a moment if it was the last time I would see the monks, part of me hoped it was. I had resented their presence in my life for almost a year now, they were my enemy, my people's enemy, and the enemy of my gods...but as Mathus vanished around the corner with not a glare in my direction, but a look of concern, I felt a shiver of dread and loneliness wash down my spine.
As much as I hated the Christians and especially the monks, they were familiar...what was ahead...namely through that doorway into the lodge was the unknown and therefore frightening.
Njord led me through the doorway and I blinked as my eyesight adjusted to the dimly lit room. This felt familiar...animal furs on the floor, creating a soft rug to sit or lay on, glowing embers from a dying fire that kept the large room well heated in almost a comfort atmosphere. I smelled meat slowly cooking in the belly of the fire pit and my stomach growled a little. Meat was not something us boys had been allowed to eat at the monastery and now smelling it, I was ravenous for it.
Meat was reserved for the monks, the rare visitors, the faithful; the monks refused to let us eat it, afraid we might revert back into our savage mannerism. When we did get meat it was from our own findings, such as raiding the chicken coop and swiping eggs to at least coat our pained empty stomachs with something. Withholding food was a typical punishment and the monks used the promise of meat to encourage our conversion. I'm fairly certain that's what drove the two younger boys whom I had been brought to the monastery with, to accept the Christian god, if only for the promise of decent food. It had been almost a year since I had tasted meat and I could feel myself drooling a bit as my mind conjured up the memories of pork, fish, rabbit, deer, or even the rare elk melting in my mouth.
A woman joined the group, she embraced the lord with such a familiar way that i could only assume they were husband and wife. The pair sat down on the two throne like chairs, covered in animal furs and skins. Antlers adore the top of the chairs and from my height and angle it appeared the man and the woman themselves bore antlers, I had to stifle a snicker because of how humorous it looked, thankfully none of the adults noticed, which I knew was a good thing, the last thing I needed to do was offend this obviously very important Northman and his wife.
Standing next to me, Njord began to speak, every once in a while he would gesture to me, turn me around, hold up my hands still bound in front of me, and even once he lifted me into the air as easy as if I had been a small goat. The entire time the lord and his lady listened intently, nodding every now and thing and gesturing when they asked a question.
Finally, Njord turned back to me and simply said:
"Tala orr ma'l" speak our language... I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out, not even a whisper, Njord gave me a slight push, but I still couldn't form the words. I was so hungry, so thirsty, I couldn't stop staring at the pig roasting on the spit, it smelled so good it was all I could think about. "Tala!" Njord commanded, ordering me to speak he raised his hand, about to push me again when the woman stood up.
She said something sharply to both men and proceeded to slice a small piece of meat off the pig, which she placed in my hands.
I looked at her dimly, half confused half hesitant. When I didn't eat right away she smiled and made an eating motion with her hands. Not needing any more permission than that I gobbled the meat up so fast I didn't even taste it, which I instantly regretted.
Not missing a beat, the lady cut off another somewhat larger piece and as I ate it this time I savored the juices and the salty taste that woke up my taste buds.
She proceeded to pour some liquid into a clay cup which I took gingerly. I sniffed the contents but didn't recognize the smell, but thirst was plaguing my body as much as hunger and I took a long sip. It was sweet, with a hint of bitter, certainly enough to quench my thirst, but not enjoyable enough that I wanted more, at least not yet.
When the lady took the cup from me the lord and Njord looked at me expectantly and the lady gave me a comforting, encouraging smile.
I recited the words that had stayed Njord's sword in the barn and the few words I had been taught from him and the other Northmen. The latter words for the most part I had no idea what I was saying, the other Northmen hadn't been very helpful in translating the words they were teaching me. Regardless of what I was saying the lord and lady seemed pleased and spoke rapidly to Njord, nodding their approval. The lord gestured to me and Njord smiled, he pulled out his knife and cut the ropes binding my wrists.
The moment the coarse rope fell off, pain enveloped my wrists. Having been tied like that for almost a week had left my wrists sore and bleeding. I rubbed the raw skin and clutched both wrists to my cloak, almost hiding them beneath.
The lady clapped and another woman hurried forward, the lady whispered something to her, looking at Njord and the lord accusingly, as she gestured to me. The woman left briefly but returned with bits of cloth, herbs, and what I could only assume was hot water.
The lady put an arm around my shoulders and guided me to the long table near the fire pit. She gently sat me down on the bench and sat down right beside me. My heart was racing so fast I could feel it humming. I wasn't use to the treatment, not since the last time I felt my mother's arms around me, holding me tight, right before the English had come, had I experienced compassion and care like this.
The lady whispered to me and even though I didn't understand her words, the tone was soothing. The other woman joined us, sitting on my other side and while the lady stroked my hair, the woman took my right hand. She dabbed warm water on the cuts with a cloth and the herbs and the sting made me instinctively pull back, I didn't cry out, I had come to realize that the Northmen prized bravery, just like my own people did and like my father had taught my brothers and I warriors do not cry from pain, we use it to make us stronger and smarter.
The woman was gently, but firm as she held tight to my hand, tending to my wounds. The lady held me close, continuing to whisper to me. Once both wounded wrists were cared for and wrapped in cloth the lady patted my head and stood up.
The other woman gathered up her materials and giving my cheeks a quick pinch, bowed to the lady and the lord and made herself scarce. Njord gestured for me to return to his side and like a trained puppy I did, quickly. He patted my shoulder and gestured to the lord and lady, who both resumed their seats.
"Hrafn," Njord introduced me to the pair, patting me on the shoulder and I remembered the Norse word for Raven, Hrafn, my name in Norse…was that to be my name from now on? My name had been changed so many times in the last year or so I couldn't keep up with it. Fitheach, I repeated in my mind, my name is Fitheach, Raven…Little Raven, my mother always called me. "Jarl Alstad" Njord added, gesturing to the couple.
Jarl...Jarl... I repeated the word in my mind, it wasn't a word I had heard before, but the more I thought about it, the more it sounded like an English word...Earl. The lord was actually an Earl, but I wasn't exactly sure what an Earl was either. I also wasn't sure how to respond, how do you address an Earl?
We never bowed to our chieftain, at least not like the monks had done to the nobility when they came to the monastery. My father always nodded his head and I suppose that is like bowing, so I did that, hoping it showed some kind of respect.
"T...Tapadh-leat." I stumbled, the Gaelic word for thank you escaping my lips and I winced, the Earl and the lady exchanged a look before he started to laugh.
"Hunt ma'l?" He asked
"Skozkrm" Njord answered
Haroldson seemed pleased and interested by this. He asked Njord another question in their language and Njord answered quickly.
Unlike with the monks, for some reason I was desperate to learn the Northman's language, I don't know why, maybe because I was curious, maybe because their culture was so similar to my own it felt right, or maybe deep down I knew unlike the monks who might just beat me and deny me food, the Northmen might outright kill me just because they could.
Becoming like them, assimilating to the Norse culture was about survival and if I was to ever get home, back to my own lands and my own gods I needed to survive.