Norse Valor by Constantine De Bohon Page A

boil it down, but that supply too was
exhausted. The men hunted every day, but game too was diminished. Mostly they
survived on flour made from the inner bark of a tree and fish from the freezing
ocean. Vakr had decided to take their vessel and head downstream with twenty
men to see if they could find a new home. Svana was waiting patiently in
Helga’s hut for him to return.
    It had been a surprise to Svana how fast she had gotten used
to the village and the people. She had made friends who came to visit during
the long days. At night, Vakr’s arms embraced her in safety while they were
warmed by their lovemaking and the heat of the fire’s flames. Vakr was so
strong and he was so tender and gentle. The feel of his hands on her bare skin
was intoxicating and if all she ever had was flour and fish, it would be fine
if she was with him. In truth, she was in love with Vakr. Oddly enough her
brother seemed happy as well and resigned to the fact he was soon to be
married. Her playboy brother was becoming quite efficient with a sword, if not
a bow and arrow.
    “You have lived here a long time?” Svana asked Helga.
    Svana had described a rocking chair to Vakr who set about
making one immediately. It was a gift for Helga from them both. The woman was
rocking contentedly, a smile on her lips. Svana didn’t think she had ever once
seen the woman worry.
    “Yes. My husband built this hut after Vakr graced our lives.
Vakr’s father was just like him, always wanting to see the world, never content
to sit still. I’m afraid both my husband and son would need more years added to
their lives to see what wonders are out there. My husband died at sea a few
years ago with Vakr by his side, as was his wish. Vakr is our only child. The
love of my life. He will take care of us.”
    Svana smiled fondly at the woman. She had grown to care a
great deal for her. Helga was tall and broad but slim. After the months of
going without much but gruel, her face was still gaunt and haggard, but the
woman loved to smile. It was an endearing quality.
    Svana reached over and laid her hand atop the older woman’s.
    “Vakr will find us somewhere nice. When we get there, I’ll
help you with a garden. If we’re lucky, we will have tomatoes and pumpkins and
corn and potatoes,” Svana said.
    The idea made Helga’s face light up. “Perhaps next year we
will make more syrup.”
    Svana chuckled.
    Helga had quite the sweet tooth.
    “That sounds like a great idea.”
    Svana screamed when suddenly the heavy wooden door was
kicked in. Both women jumped to their feet and backed up as three strange men
came for them. Svana swallowed hard. The men were huge yet looked as though
their clothes hung too loosely. Their eyes were wild.
    “Your food!” one of the men bellowed. “Give us your food or
die!”
    “We have nothing,” Helga cried fearfully.
    “Liar,” he snapped and backhanded her.
    Helga went flying and slumped to the ground.
    Enraged, Svana grabbed a steel ladle and whacked him across
the head. Blood oozed down the side of his face. The man bellowed loudly, but
Svana held her ground.
    A hair-raising scream came from behind the men and Svana
watched as David raced into the hut and jumped onto the nearest man’s back.
    Svana swung her weapon again at the same man she had already
struck. From lack of food, the warrior’s reflexes were slower and the intruder
was unable to move out of her path quick enough. Down he went.
    David was being whizzed around the room by the man he hung
on tight to. They bashed into furniture, walls. The third warrior tried to help
his friend, but Svana tripped him and he sprawled face down into the dirt. The
warrior David hung tight to was on his knees as David choked him from behind.
Soon enough, that man was down. Svana raced to Helga who stumbled to her feet.
All three raced outside to find help.
    Men were battling in the village. Women and children were
screaming and running in different directions. Fires had been lit