The first time the wanderer came I was gathering driftwood among the rocks under the Red Ness. It was past the middle of the day, and the sun dazzled fiercely on the waters. Despite the glare I saw the sail a good way out. I left my bundle of driftwood lying and ran back to the homestead to raise the alarm. The men gathered quickly to ask for details, but all I could say was there was one sail, and that it was coming. We all knew it must come here, for apart from our bay the coast is cliff bound for half a day's walk in either direction.
The men rushed about finding weapons and talking excitedly, trying to pretend they were not afraid. My father got out his sword that is a real sword, made by an armourer. Two of the other men had swords which my father had made, which are good enough iron work but not the same. Others took axes and hoes. Then again they started asking about the ship, but it could not yet be seen from the houses, set at the head of the bay. Someone had to go back up to the Red Ness to watch. Of course, none of the men could go, because they had to defend the houses. So I was sent. If a girl doesn't live to take a husband, that's one less dowry to pay.
When I got back to the point the boat was already close in. It was not so big as I had first guessed, but still it was as big as our big eight man boat. It was not like our boats. It had two masts, a bigger one well forward and a little one close to the stern. Each of these masts now had a little sail hoisted -- different types, but both quite strange to me, and I could not at first see how they worked.
The forward sail was triangular. One corner was hoisted to the top of the mast, and another was attached to the stem. The third corner was held by a sheet. The after sail was a bit like an ordinary sail, except that the yard was not hung at the middle, but instead about a third from one end. The tack of the `short' side of the sail was fixed at the foot of the after mast, while the tack of the long side was sheeted to a spar that stuck out from the stern. Pulled squint like that, of course, the long end of the yard stuck up at an angle, but it seemed to me that the sail wasn't cut square anyway, so it stuck up even more. Looking down from the point I could see another sail folded on the deck at the foot of the forward mast. It looked bigger than the others, and more normal.
The boat had a full deck, which is not usual except on warships. It's stern was odd. The steerboard didn't hang in it's usual place on the quarter, but on the back of the sternpost. It seemed to be hinged there like a door. But strangest of all, I could only see one man on the boat.
The boat sailed close in to the rocks. The man was steering. He was standing up with one hand on the after mast and his foot on the tiller. He watched the shoreline closely. He sailed close in by the little hidden voe where we of the women's side go to swim, and I thought he would wreck his boat on the reef that guards it. But he turned just outside it, out into clearer water, and turned his boat through the wind more neatly than a full crew of our men could. His strange sails did not seem to need much trimming for this.
Again he came close into the reef at the mouth of the voe, watching the rocks from under his hand. He was so near I could have hit him with a stone from my sling. His hair and beard were faded blond, cut short to his head, and he wore the close fitting breeches that the old men wear. His jerkin had a bold pattern on it, like the isle men's. It was not the pattern of any of the islands we trade with.
He turned away once more, and as he turned, dropped his after sail to the deck. This time he nosed the boat in through the tricky dog leg channel into the voe. The boat glided in through the quiet water until its forefoot bit into the crisp sand. Then he jumped over the side, and took an iron anchor from the boat, which he carried up the beach and dug in carefully. Then he took ropes from the boat, and scrambled up the rocks opposite me to make one fast to a tree there. I guessed he would come up my side next, so I crawled back through the bushes, and ran quietly through the woods `till I could see the steading. I waved my arms.
They sent Aud up to hear what I'd seen. They were always cautious. I told her it was a small ship, but strangely fashioned. I told her that I had seen only one man. I told her the boat had landed in the swimming voe. I sent her back to tell them.
When I got back to my watching place he was just finishing tidying the boat. I crept down by the beck and hid in the bushes at the top of the beach, to get as close a view as I could. He had shed his jerkin, for it was warm in the voe with the westering sun shining into it, and had on a sark of some fine green stuff on. He wore a great belt like a sword belt. As he worked around the boat, I could see he was a tall man, but light built. You can't be sure, though. Eysdan Braggart is not a big man, but he has won much wealth by his sword in Russ and Miklagard.
Suddenly the stranger started up the strand towards me. I crouched still in my bushes. He stopped not two arms reach from me, by the last pool of the beck above the sand. I could see that the sark was of silk. It was much worn, and patched at cuff and elbow, but it looked by far too costly for everyday use. He pulled it easily over his head, and let it lie on the sand. He scooped clean fresh water from the beck, and splashed it over his face and shoulders. As his head came up I saw that his right eye socket was empty -- but he had no scars on his face to show that he had lost it fighting.
He took up a cake of soap he had brought and started to wash himself -- although the smell of him was not rank. I wish that the smart young men hereabouts would keep themselves half so clean! As he washed I tried to gauge his years. He was bronzed by the sun, and his eyes -- where his eyes should be -- were surrounded by wrinkles, as seamen's eyes are. The bleach of his hair might be sun or it might be age. He was into the fullness of his manhood, that was sure. Beyond that, he might be my grandfather's age or my father's -- or not five summer's count older than myself, for all I could tell.
He sat up, alert, as a hound at the scent of a stag, and was still for a short while. I held my breath. Then he relaxed and finished washing. He pulled his sark over his head, and, standing, turned away to tuck it into his breeches. Then he turned back to face me, and spoke quietly.
"You may come out, sister. I shall not harm you"
His accent was soft, and foreign sounding. I was silent. He spoke again: "very well. Be at peace."
He walked back to his boat, and climbed aboard. I crept back up to the top of the wood, and found Aud waiting. I was to go back to the house place; she would watch.
Back at the steading, I answered the men's questions. No, I had seen just one man. No, he had not been carrying a weapon. Yes, I thought he was a warrior. He had but one eye, and wore a sword belt. No, I had not seen the sword. No, I did not think there was anyone else in the boat. Yes, there could be, because it was fully decked. No, he did not seem to be keeping careful watch. He did not seem afraid of anything.
I did not tell them he had detected me. I did not know how he had done so. The gown I was wearing was a faded old brown one; and for all the old women say about slave's blood, my brown hair does not show in the shadows like their pale hair does. I was sure he had not heard me. I can be quieter in the woods than any mouse.
They ignored me and talked among themselves. They could take a good hunting bow and shoot him. But it was contrary to the law of hospitality to shoot a stranger at the gate. Well, he was not precisely at the gate. He had not asked for hospitality. What if he had supporters? Perhaps it would be better not to. They could wait until they were more sure. But he had not done anything hostile. And was not hiding out at the mouth of the bay hostile?
I left them to it. I knew they wouldn't do anything hasty. I went and stole some precious scented soap, that belonged to Dria. Dria was my father's youngest bed-slave at that time, and she kept herself clean and sweet smelling to get out of the hard work. I went to the pool under the waterfall above the stead. I took off my gown and sandals and washed myself carefully all over. And then, just to be sure, I did it again. I am not a dog, to have my sex told by sniffing!
When I had dressed, and returned the soap, I found them still in the yard, arguing. My father saw me, and told me sharply to get back up to Aud and find what was happening in the voe. I went, and Aud appeared immediately out of the wood. I don't think she'd been keeping a close watch. She said he was hauling the boat up the beach. By himself? Yes, just by himself, with some curious tackle. Did she want to go back and watch, or down to the houses to tell the men? She would tell the men.
The sun was setting, and I was shivering in my place at the top of the rock, before the men decided to come and see for themselves. In the meantime the stranger had hauled his boat up above the highwater mark. He had felled a pine tree, and split it its length. He had a good axe! Using the split halves as runners, he had pulled the boat up with a device made from some wooden blocks and an enormous amount of rope. Now he had used the brashings from the tree to make a fire, had pulled a great mantle round his shoulders against the chill, and cooked and eaten some fish. I had neither eaten nor drunk since the first alarm.
They came crashing down through the woods. My father came first, with his sword that was a real sword made by an armourer. Next came the two with the swords my father had made, and after them the rest with axes and hunting bows, arrows already nocked. At the noise, the stranger stood, and took up a long staff that had been beside him on the ground, in the shadow of the boat. He took a couple of steps forward, and then leaned on his staff, and stood motionless in the last light of the sun, the corners of his dark mantle twitching in the first breath of land breeze.
The men stumbled out into the open twenty paces from him and froze, with their weapons in what they thought to be suitably menacing poses. There was a period of silence.
"well, farmers" -- again his voice was quiet -- "what do you want with me?"
My father was the spokesman. After all, he had a real sword, made by an armourer.
"I would know your name, and what you do here; and when you will leave."
"I shall leave when I am ready; I am traveling by here. My name you need not know."
There was another long silence. I could hear my father's breathing. Then he turned, and the others crashed after him through the trees. I ran up through the woods also, to meet them as they came out. My father said I must go back. The stranger must be watched; he was uncanny. There was something about his staff... I complained that I was tired, and it was cold. Also, I had not eaten since the middle of the day. It was someone else's turn to watch. I might have saved my breath. The men couldn't watch up here on the point all night, for they must guard the houses. The lads were up on the high pastures with the cattle -- so they could not be sent for. In any case, the cattle, too, must be guarded. They would send Aud up with a blanket and some food. I did not ask that she might stay; she would never sit all night in the woods, even without a stranger on the beach below.
In the event it was not she who came, but my step-mother, with a barley bannock, a lump of cheese, an aged blanket, and no scold -- they obviously had not found the soap as yet. She handed me the gear and left as quickly as she came.
I sat and ate my meal, feeling rebellious. The blanket was thin, and the autumn night getting cold. Finally, decided, I got up and marched down through the darkness to the beach.
"Hello Stranger!"
"Hello Woodmouse."
"May I share your fire?"
"Share and welcome. What brings you here so late in the day?"
I walked up to the fire and sat, wrapping the blanket around me.
"You must be watched, they tell me. And if you are to be watched, I can see you as well here in the warmth of the firelight as I could from up there on the rock."
"So the bold farmers named you for the task?"
"Ha!" -- I said -- "it did not please them to be called that!"
"Why not then? Surely it is an honourable thing to be, to be a farmer?"
Well, I thought so, but I'd never thought to hear a man say it. I cocked my head on one side, and he went on -- "is it not a better thing to come to your bread through your own work, than through the blood of other folk?"
I agreed with him, forcefully; and we had a long, and friendly, and most unexpected talk, mostly about life, and honour, and that sort of thing. And I enjoyed it most of all because not only did I agree with the things he said, but he listened to me courteously, and agreed with many things I said; which was something of a new experience for me.
The night grew cold as the fire died, and we slept close together in our separate blankets for warmth. But he did not touch me, any more than he had been my half sister Aud. I am sure that I did not think he would. I know I was then of an age when many girls fuck. Perhaps I was a little younger than my years; or perhaps like my father I thought him uncanny. I did not think about him then as a woman thinks about a man. I sometimes wonder about what would have happened if I had.
When I awoke, I was alone, rolled in my blanket under the great blue mantle. Dawn had lightened the sky above us, but the voe was still deep in shadow. A raven was perched on the top strake of the boat, taking bits of smoked meat from the stranger's hand. He crooned gently to it, and it croaked hoarsely back at him. When I stirred, it started up and flew off with heavy wing flaps across the water.
The fire had been relit, and on it were a skillet of smoked bacon and fresh mackerel, and a pot from which came the smell of ale mulling. On a stone by the fire was a pile of oatcakes. We broke fast together. The stranger had on, over the clothes he had worn yesterday, a stout leather jerkin, and brogues which had leather leggings on them reaching up to the knee -- a style I've heard called `boots'. After we had eaten, he kicked and stamped out the fire. He took up the mantle, and swung it round his shoulders. He put on a battered black hat with a deep shady brim. I lifted the staff to hand it to him. I was surprised at the weight of it. Looking, I saw that the bindings at either end that I had thought were leather thong were of iron wire. There were three strips of bronze, sunk into the wood, that ran its length. These were notched here and there, though for no reason I could see. He took the staff from me with thanks. Then he laid his hands on the prow of his boat and said:
"lie quietly. Be not seen."
Then, with a quick Farewell to me, he turned and walked up the beach.
"Wait!" -- I called -- "where are you going?"
"Travelling!"
And he was gone. Although I caught up my things and hurried after, I could not see which way he went. But I did not follow far, for when I looked back over my shoulder to the beach, the boat was gone. Looking again, I saw there was a great rock where it had been. I walked back to the rock. It was just the size the boat should be, but a smooth lumpish shape. I touched it. It was hard. I tried to push my arm through it, but could not. I hit it, and only hurt my hand.
Finally, I went and sat where I had slept, and strained to see the boat as it had lain there when I woke. And suddenly, there it was. But as soon as I relaxed the effort it had gone again. Getting up, I went up to the rock. Again, I willed it to be a boat; and again, it was. I reached into where the rock had been, and touched it. It was a boat, warm and wooden. I relaxed; and it was cold stone.
I walked quietly back to the steading, and found my father, looking well rested, finishing his daymeal.
"He is gone", I said -- "he went away overland, in the first of the day. I did not mark the way he went."
"And his boat?"
I told him that the boat was hidden in a great rock, although I did not tell him I could summon it back. I told him about the raven at dawn. I reminded him of the great blue mantle, the long staff, the missing right eye. He stopped eating, and his face got paler. My step-mother had always been one for the christmen, and two summers past my father had them dip him in the river, but in his heart I think he kept the old ways.
After that I kept quiet, but the story got around as I knew it would. None of the women-folk would come, after that, when I suggested swimming in the voe; but in truth the year was turning, and the water growing cold. The folk who had listened to the christmen would not come up to the wood on Red Ness to gather firewood; but sometimes, under the big oaks in the heart of the wood, you could see that folk had been there for other reasons.
There were a good few weeks that Autumn when the folk of the old ways went around looking smug, and those who had been dipped by the christmen looked uneasy. But I was not so sure. If it had been the all-father, would he have talked so of farmers and warriors? Does he not wish to fill the Val Hall with the souls of the slain?
I kept visiting the boat rock as often as I could, that Autumn; but one day at the beginning of winter it was gone, and I did not see it again `till spring. Even then I did not see the stranger. Just, one day as I looked down into the voe, the rock was as if it had been there from the beginning of time.
Copyright © Simon Brooke
1992-1996
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