Buku Saga by Jeff Janoda

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Saga by Jeff Janoda

Author:Jeff Janoda

Language: eng

Format: epub

Publisher: Chicago Review Press

Published: 2008-06-06T16:00:00+00:00

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Saga by Jeff Janoda

Outside, Hrafn put his hand on Thorleif’s shoulder.

“Come down with me to the shore,” he said quietly. “I have a gift for you.”

“Thor’s Blood, what will we do?” Thorodd moaned as they trudged through the rain to the shoreline. The brothers walked in silent dismay, shocked at their chieftain’s despair.

 

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Saga by Jeff Janoda

Author:Jeff Janoda , Date: June 7, 2019

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Author:Jeff Janoda

Language: eng

Format: epub

Publisher: Chicago Review Press

Published: 2008-06-06T16:00:00+00:00
Outside, Hrafn put his hand on Thorleif’s shoulder.

“Come down with me to the shore,” he said quietly. “I have a gift for you.”

“Thor’s Blood, what will we do?” Thorodd moaned as they trudged through the rain to the shoreline. The brothers walked in silent dismay, shocked at their chieftain’s despair.

“I don’t know.” Thorleif looked at his brothers, and at Freystein, and made himself grin.

“No matter. It will be our backs we must rely on, then. Let us go and see what Hrafn has brought us.”

It was a boat.

“Oak planking, pine thwarts. Built two years ago and tight as a virgin.” Hrafn held the steer board proudly while the brothers went around it with open mouths. It was ten paces long, with four oars, and a mast that could be put up, and a spar for it tightly wrapped in a sail. The boat rested heavily on the sand of the beach. “I got it for a song from the widow of a dying fisherman, in Trondheim. She hadn’t a clue of the value. I was first there, and she needed quick money.” They laughed. “Towed it from the mainland. Steady as a rock, but of course the weather was good. It’s yours.”

Thorleif stood with open mouth. It was a valuable boat in Norway, but in Iceland, with decent building wood rare as gold, it was priceless.

“I cannot repay you. This is beyond my means.”

“As I said, it is a gift,” Hrafn said, and put his hand on Thorleif’s shoulder again. “I value our friendship greatly. But let me tell you something I discovered last spring when I went to see Olaf gothi to buy his seal oil.” He rubbed his beard thoughtfully. “They had fish hanging from the rigging of their boats, drying in the air.”

Thorleif nodded. “Cod. They dry well in the wind.”

“Yes, and will not spoil for months when dry, I am told.” The merchant smiled. “Thorleif, I am Christian, as are most of the people of Norway, except for the few who live in the high mountains. I eat fish because I like it, but also because my faith prohibits meat at certain times.” He smiled, extending his arms like a man preaching. “There is great profit to be made here. Fish caught in these waters, and dried so as not to spoil, and sold to people who cannot get fish easily, yet require it for over a hundred days a year.” He laughed then, and rubbed his fingers together. “Perhaps you can turn your hand to other tasks than sheep and hay.”

The brothers talked with Hrafn excitedly about his idea for a while. “I suppose we would sell our fish to you exclusively, Hrafn,” said Thorodd, grinning.

“Of course!” the merchant boomed. “For a very fair price.”

Thorleif touched the firm strakes of the boat, loving its solid beauty. “Why not give this to Snorri gothi, if you wish to plan for a future here on the Island?” His brothers hissed at him. He ignored them. “A chieftain carries much more weight in these parts than simple farmers such as us.

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