Ten

In the morning, no one would look at us.

At Eirik, and me, I mean.

The wailing and the crying being too unbearable, we went outside, and found Father, Leif, and some of the other men, the biggest and the strongest.

“We have a short time,” Father said. “That’s all. A short while of daylight, to put a stop to this.”

The men nodded.

“But how?” asked one. “How do we kill that which is already dead?”

Father grunted.

“There are old ways,” he said. “There are old ways, written in the sagas. Is that not so, Leif?”

Leif nodded. “It is true. All we can do is to believe they will work for us, here, today.”

“So what do we do?”

“What do we do?” repeated Father. “We pay Tor a visit. That’s what.”

So we left for the long meadow, and Eirik and I were glad to go, for as we left, we heard the villagers muttering and pointing.

“It’s them he wants. It won’t stop till he has them.”

*   *   *

We came to the meadow.

The snow lay deep upon the ground, and everyone wondered at how Tor was able to come out at night, and not make a mark on the snow. Anywhere.

“He is a devil now,” Father said, shrugging. “Who knows what things he can do? Enough! We dig!”

The men dug, first clearing the snow from the mound, then the sparse earth that had been scattered over the stones of the cairn, and then, making a chain of bodies, the large stones of the cairn were lifted away, one by one.

With all the cairn stones gone, it only was left to lift the stone lid.

“Wulf…?” began one man.

Others drew back. A waiting fear had crept into us all.

“What are we doing?”

“What if…?”

But Father stepped onto the lid. And stamped his foot.

“Whatever is in here. Whatever it is, it’s not Tor. Not anymore. And now, with daylight, it can do nothing. So stop bellyaching and help me lift this stone. For our children’s sake!”

The lid was lifted, and there, inside the grave, lay Tor.

It was another wonder.

His body was uncorrupted. He looked as though he slept. That was all.

And yet, there was blood at the corners of his mouth.

Father turned to Leif.

“Did you bring them?” he asked, and Leif stepped forward holding a leather bag.

Father took it from him, and pulled out a massive hammer, and two stout stakes, made of whitethorn, from the western isle.

No one helped my father.

He knelt down, to finish what he had begun. He hammered the first stake right through Tor’s chest, and deep, deep, deep into the soil beneath.

He took the second stake, and drove it hard into Tor’s mouth, between his lips, which opened to take this offering. There was a crunch and a crack of bone, but Father did not stop hammering until only the very tip of the stake was pointing from Tor’s mouth.

Father stood.

“Try walking now,” he muttered.

He turned to go.

“Come, children.”

And then to the others, “Cover him up again, just as he was. Then forget this place.”