The tempest

The drakkar, slender and multicoloured, glided on the quiet seagoing around the promontory by oar strokes. There was no wind and the sail had been tied up. Men bent regularly on the oars, without forcing the push. Laughing sound reached the top of the promontory, which was a wedge stretched out from the sharp rocks cost. On the ship everybody was tranquil and cheerful.

On the top of the promontory, feet ankle-deep sank in the green summery grass, Reginn, the shrine priestess, appeared. The long light blond hair, the colour just a little bit faint by the age, came down under her waist. More than fifty winters old, she still stood upright and the nice face was no seamed on wrinkles. Only around eyes and mouth corners wrinkles branched off thin. Especially when she flew into a rage as in that moment she was. Her grey eyes stared at the drakkar, burning of anger.

At her back, quickening their pace, the shrine's novices arrived. Ten girls at all, between ten and twenty winters aged. Before being instructed they lined up at the Reginn back in a semicircle, ready to carry their part out.

The lips, before tightened in a narrow line, opened in a summon, which turned early in a repetitive song. She rose her face and arms to the sky. The black fur which covered her shoulder slid down backwards, kept just by a big, round and metal brooch which closed it on her breast. After the third singing verse the girls, divided into three different groups, began three different tunes which interwove themselves into a sole crescendo.

On the drakkar the men interrupted their laughing and oarsmen stopped, gazing at the promontory where Reginn was outlined against the clear and azure sky.

-What's she doing?- Sigurðr, giant among giants, asked. His hair was gathered in two thick plaits.

Fàlki the Black, from his position close the mast, where he was putting a hawser in order, sneered. -She's crying hers anger-, answered with disrespectful voice.

A chorus of laughs welcomed his words. Neither Sigurðr neither Egill, Fàlki's brother, added themselves to the laughs. Egill's face was frowning.

-Don't mock the Priestess-, Sigurðr said.

Turning towards the giant, a scornful expression on the dark skin face, legacy of a southern woman in the family branch, Fàlki asked: -What can she do to me? Maybe did she notice something? Useless female who stays close in the shrine, maintained by us!

Egill stared the gaze at his brother. Nobody would said them were brothers, as dark of skin and hair was the first one as pale and copper-coloured hair was the second one.

-Give up! You hadn't to touch the girl, so give up insulting the Priestess.

A furious light shined for a moment in the Fàlki's eyes, which immediately changed in evil.

-You should heard how she squeaked-, he laughed. -And how she screamed when I took her from behind.

The oarsmen burst into laugh, encouraged him to tell his deeds.

In the while, on the promontory, Reginn's summon was going on. Her singing rhythm became at a fast pace, faster and higher, followed by the girls' counter-melody. Every laugh that she heard arriving from the drakkar was like a stabbing pain at the breast. How did they dare laughing?

Suddenly the atmosphere changed, temperature felt down. A strong wind blast skimmed over the sea smooth surface rippling it. Few metres close to the boat a wave rose smashing into the broadside. Laughing stopped all of a sudden, while the boat rolled vigorously and men had to hold themselves to something avoiding to fall.

The song was a rage crescendo.

Wind quickly grown stronger, blasts became so frequent that there were no breaks among them. Sky veiled in darker and darker colours. First the sun became pale behind thin clouds, after dark storm nimbus gathered from the four world corners closing over the drakkar. Wind began moaning and howling; the day changed in night. Far on the sea, at the horizon, jagged thunderbolts broke the darkness. Thunder sound crackled on waters and rocky ground, while waves rose higher and higher.

Reginn's words were an ancestral fury cry.

The drakkar turned on itself, tossed and blown here and there by the wind and hit by the waves. Who first laughed now was crying of dismay.

-BITCH!- Fàlki waved his fist towards of the far woman, eyes blazing of rage and hate.

-Shut up, fool!- Sigurðr shouted to him.

Wind roared, knocking a water body over the boat; a wave rose it dropping it off almost on its side. Fàlki had run at prow, and holding itself at the dragon head with one arm, waved the other one towards the promontory, hurling insults and swear words.

-Egill!- Sigurðr cried. -He'll make we to sink!

Egill turned towards Sigurðr.

-Kill him, Egill! The Priestess wants his life!

Egill shook his head. Would be useless, he thought.

-Kill him or we'll die!

Some men joined with the Sigurðr's request. Fàlki, lost in his rage, didn't notice anything.

Egill gritted his teeth and drew his triangular blade knife. Took a step towards prow, staggered when a wave tossed the boat, stopped and looked at Sigurðr.

-Is my brother-, said, stretching the arm out and handing the knife. Sigurðr moved decided and quick, and passing Egill over grabbed the knife from his hand, while Egill stayed with bowed head gritting his teeth. Sigurðr arrived fast from Fàlki's back, snatched him at the forehead with the left hand, tugging back his head to expose his throat. The blade passed quick on the flesh, cutting the artery, breaking off the umpteenth curse. At the moment when the body collapsed, all life fled from it, Sigurðr pushed and dropped it into the sea.

-He's died!- cried, standing up at prow, blood stained hands stretched out in a surrender gesture, balancing out to remain standing, while the sea shook the boat beneath his feet. -He's died! He's punished! Stop now!

The words arrived till Reginn even the wind howling. She had seen the blood to come out in spurts from the cut throat, blood like that soiled the young Halldòra, barely thirteen winters old. She didn't curse, didn't shout; she cried in silence. She cried and couldn't give up, cried so much that tears soaked hers ragged dress. Same dress which she tightened on hers body, in the vane attempt to cover herself, while lay curled up in a warehouse corner. No, said her song. All you knew. Knew and accepted him among you, she accused. You knew and laughed.

A fierce and shrill cry went out high from Reginn's throat. A wave rose sudden, Sigurðr was snatched from the deck and lost into the sea. And while the cry going on, another, last wave formed coming from the open sea. Was lifted high by the wind and staid menacingly over the drakkar. Fear cries of the men were brought far by the wind, the water body beat down on the boat as a hammer and the wood crack was like a god shout. The boat split in two and men threw into sea, while the water closed again over them wave by wave, like bodies of an enemy army came to lost them.

Reginn's cry went out, stopped suddenly. As the wind felt down, as sudden as it was born summoned by rage and sorrow. Clouds disappeared in few minutes, giving back the blue sky to the summery world. And the sun came back to shine on the smooth sea. A sea where corpses and wrecks, a white and red coloured sail, oak wood shields and broken oars floated. On the promontory top Reginn gasped. Her forehead was sweat, her eyes wide open.

And now, Reginn asked to herself, what does it remain? Revenge is completed, but what does it remain to me?

Hers gaze stared at the coast, where the fiord opened itself. A crowd, men and women,elders and kids, was gathered on the beach, coming from the villages.

All you are witnesses, go and tell it. That what today is happened will be known. It will be known as those men paid and this mustn't happen again.

At least here.