Brattahlíð, 1019 CE
The fires roaring in the hearth had dimmed down to embers. People now covered themselves in fur to fight the typical chill of an evening spent in so-called Greenland. The laughter and the shouts and the songs had dwindled down as well; now Leif Eirikrsson's vast, vaulted hall was filled with the quiet hum of conversation. It was the children's bedtime, and the little ones had gathered around the famous explorer for a final story. Some were his grandchildren, others descended from his numerous siblings. The children of the members of his crew mingled among the rest. It was clear old Leif considered them kin even though they shared no blood with him.
Kassandra sat by herself, not far from the excited rabble of wide-eyed young ones. She had sailed with Leif and his crew for one season, accompanying them on their travels across the Mediterranean. They were now wintering in Greenland, and Kassandra was hoping to join them on their next expedition come next summer. Yes, Leif the Lucky wished to return to the fabled land that had brought him fame and renown beyond measure—the great and unknown landmass that stretched just beyond the long, lonely whale-roads.
Well, unknown for the Icelanders, that is. Kassandra had been aware of the existence of the other continent for a millenia and a half, after all. More of the Ancients' relics—of their poisoned gifts—had been hidden across this so-called new world. Surely these artefacts had already caused their share of misery. Kassandra needed to find them, and fast, so no more lives could be broken by their false promises of power.
The little ones were captivated by Leif's tales. He peppered stories of his travels with references to ancient legends, making their eyes—and smiles—even wider. Kassandra shook her head, stifling a grin. She did not remember coming upon a terrifying sea serpent on their way to the markets of Iberia, nor did she recall having caught a glimpse of the Skíðblaðnir, the god Freyr's famous golden vessel, on the way to Miklagard. She doubted Leif had also carried a torrid affair with one of the sea god Ægir's daughter in his youth. But, of course, the children gobbled up his stories like starving urchins; no doubt they were imagining all the wonderful adventures they would have once they would be old enough to take to the seas.
Again, Kassandra was filled with a familiar wistfulness. Old sailors everywhere seemed to be made out of the same mould. Barnabas had been as equally enthusiastic when spinning his yarns to gullible young ones. Of course then, his telltales had been about fearsome fights with sirens and hydras and other nasty denizens of Poseidon's domain, and the lady he'd once wooed had been a Nereid, daughter of old Nereus and his consort Doris. But it was difficult—almost impossible—to look upon Leif's aged visage, alight with mischief and wonder, and not see her old friend's face instead. The two would have gotten along like a house on fire, of that Kassandra was certain.
"And, soon, soon!" the old explorer said, making grand gestures all the while to amuse the little ones, "I will brave Rán's rages to reach verdant Vinland once more! Much like my father founded our fair town of Brattahlíð, I will create a kingdom of our own, a place where we will be free of kings and the vile wars they wage."
"How will you get past Jörmungandr?" asked a little girl.
"You can't!" said a boy. "He circles the whole, whole world! That's what my afi said!"
Leif chuckled. "Oh, he was right on that count, but we won't sail as far as the end of the world, don't you worry!"
"What about the people there?" said another boy. "They killed Uncle Thorvald, didn't they?"
That affirmation was followed by a series of hushed whispers from the adults. Leif's last expedition to Vinland had brought about the death of many good friends and kin, to sickness, yes, but also to the spears of the so-called Skrælingar. Kassandra did not blame the latter for reacting with violence; she'd seen so many people displaced—or flat out slaughtered—by invaders coveting their lands. Greece itself had ruled over many of its neighbours with an iron fist before being conquered by a succession of foreign empires, after all. The years passed, the earth completed another turn around the sun—and yet old patterns emerged again and again, with only Kassandra to bear witness the recurrent follies of men. She still tried to stop them. Sometimes, they listened to her fervent warnings. Often they did not.
Kassandra watched Leif Eirikrsson carefully, almost dreading his answer. When he said, smiling, "We will make peace with them, of course, as the good Lord has taught us," she could not stifle a sigh of relief.
This was answered by a loud snort. Leif's sister, a formidable woman by the name of Freydis, came forward, saying, "And how will you do that, pray tell, dear brother of mine?" She was a fearsome warrior, more ruthless and cunning than her mellow sibling. Apparently, she had once fought against the Vinland natives bare-breasted and screaming about the cowardliness of the men surrounding her; Kassandra would have paid good drachma to see that sight.
"Peace is possible," Kassandra said, feeling the need to speak up. "It's something worth pursuing, at the very least. It is their lands, after all."
"I am of the same mind," said Thorfinn Karlsefni, one of Leif's most trusted men. He was a quiet youth who measured each of his words carefully before saying them. His wife, keen-eyed Gudrid, nodded her assent. She patted her belly as he added, "We wish to raise our child in a land where they will live in peace and freedom. We won't accomplish this by going to war with people whose only crime would be defending their homes."
"He's right," said Kassandra. "I've seen it before. To fight them would be futile. And wrong."
"Wise words, my friends!" Leif agreed.
"Karlsefni is a green boy," Freydis scoffed. "As for the Greek woman… what does she know of warfare?"
Before Kassandra could answer, Leif laughed and said, "Oh, plenty!" He stood, gesturing at Kassandra, who felt a slight warmth in her cheeks at the scrutiny now directed at her person. "This is a daughter of almighty Thor you all see before you! This lass met pirates and storms with naught but a blade in her hand and a grin upon her lips. And a more seasoned sailor you've never met! Pardon the blasphemy, but she is blessed by the old gods, that one!"
He had told her as much the first time she had climbed aboard his vessel, saying she clearly had seawater in her veins. Kassandra had laughed ruefully, replying, "Oh, you would not have said that if you'd seen me the first time I set foot on a boat!"
Oh, how she had retched during that first voyage, rushing to the sides of the Adrestia to empty the content of her stomach into the grey surf churning below her. Barnabas had only patted her back, saying, "There, there, lass… it happens to even the best of sailors."
"How long til we arrive in Megaris?" she'd asked, with a wince.
He had smiled then. His smile was one of the only things she remembered about him. Kassandra had forgotten the sound of his voice, even the colour of his one remaining eye, but that smile… she expected it was the same smile a proud father gave his daughter, a smile that showed just how much he believed in her. And Barnabas had believed in Kassandra, oh he had, even as she had started to lose faith in her own self.
Upon his deathbed, he had told her, "The gods have blessed me when they made our paths cross, my child." All the while, Kassandra had only shaken her head, tears stinging at her eyes. The gods are not real, she had wanted to tell him. Instead, she had smiled back and said, "I am glad that our paths have crossed too, my friend."
Kassandra looked back at Leif Eirikrsson, smiling that same sad smile. "I had a good teacher," she said, closing her eyes and letting the familiar sadness wash over her. When that wistfulness was gone, she turned to the children and asked, "Would you like to hear a story about him? He was the best sailor in the Aegean sea, a mariner blessed by Poseidon, lord of the seas, a courageous adventurer beloved by the daughters of Nereus, the old man of the depths…"
The little ones—and the ever young-at-heart Leif—were all too glad to listen to her tales.