the darkness swallowed him and he saw and heard nothing more.
CHAPTER FOUR A WOLF IN HUMAN FORM?
Rigg opened his eyes. He was lying on his back, bound hand and foot, and his head hurt. He could barely move, and the flickering light on the cave roof seemed like a taunt to his misery. For a few frustrating minutes, he strained at his bonds without loosening them.
He was sore all over, as if he’d been rolled down a rocky slope, and his pride was quite deflated. He’d been clubbed and trussed up proper, like some helpless animal victim. The very thought made him groan. Once again, he tried to shift his body and failed. An answering groan sounded from close by.
After a few minutes, Rigg managed to raise his head. There was Ari — alive, at least, but hanging upside down from a ceiling beam set in the stone roof — just where Rigg had glimpsed him before being attacked. A much-diminished fire flickered underneath his friend. He seemed to be conscious, too, but was so far saying nothing. What a pair of fools they were! And now they would surely have to pay for it.
“Ari! What happened?” Rigg whispered. His own voice sounded hoarse and afraid. His shame deepened.
“What happened? Someone hit me over the head, then trussed me up here. Not a pleasant experience. I thought I was going to be roasted for dinner. But I’m very glad you’re alive, Rigg! I was beginning to wonder.”
Rigg was relieved to hear Ari sounding very much like his usual self. “But who attacked you?” he asked.
“I don’t know. I found this cave, entered from a passage below, and started to explore it,” his friend continued. “Someone struck me from behind — I didn’t see him. When I came to consciousness, I found myself strung up over this fire. I thought I was dead and consigned to that fiery pit the Christians talk about. I should have become a believer, I thought! Now I see I’m still on earth — more or less on earth. But I’m feeling a little light-headed, upside down like this.”
Rigg couldn’t help smiling at his friend’s patter. Clearly, a very clever enemy had trapped them both. Things could be worse, though — they hadn’t been killed outright. And now, with no one in sight, they had a few minutes to try to plan an escape.
“Ari, listen! We’ve got to do something! Can you swing your body a little? Maybe you can break that leather thong that’s holding you up. If you could crawl over here, I might be able to loosen your bonds with my teeth.”
“I’ve got a better idea. Why don’t you wriggle this way? You might be able to burn off those bindings in the fire!”
“All right. I’ll just move like this, and —”
Rigg stopped in mid-sentence. Someone had suddenly started singing or chanting quite close by. It was the voice of a girl or a woman. A beautiful sing-song, Rigg thought, of which he understood not a word.
When he got over his surprise, Rigg called out to his friend: “Can you make that out, Ari?”
Ari Bardasson was nothing if not a student of language. From childhood he had attempted and largely succeeded in mastering every single foreign tongue he encountered. These included Latin, Greek, and even some Arabic, picked up from the crew of the occasional merchant ship that had visited the great city of Constantinople, where so many languages were spoken.
“You must go to the court of Olaf Tryggvason in Norway,” Tyrkir had told him. “They have great need of your skills there and you will do well.”
Now Rigg listened and was sure he had heard the language of that song before. But Ari was the expert.
“That’s no mystery,” Ari told him. “Even hanging upside down like this I can recognize Tornit when I hear it. It’s a Skraeling that’s singing out there, and she’s singing a song to a wolf-spirit!”
Tornit! Rigg was astounded. No wonder the language sounded vaguely familiar. It was the tongue of the native Greenlanders, and — standoffish as the Norse were — occasionally one heard it around Brattalid. It would be even more common in the Norse settlements along the coast and quite familiar in the Nordsetur, the fishing and hunting territory where the Norse and Greenlanders met with some frequency.
“Then it was the Tornit who ambushed us!” Rigg cried out. All of a sudden he was really angry. The Vikings wouldn’t tolerate this! They considered themselves far superior to the Greenland natives — Skraeling was a word of contempt. At the same time they all knew that the Tornit were quite skilled with their own weapons and were excellent hunters and trappers.
“Now I understand,” Rigg said. “It’s a Tornit hunting party. They wanted to take some game for themselves, and knew they were trespassing in our valley. They attacked us before we could attack them. I’m sure we can get out of this. We can swallow our pride and tell them it’s fine for them to hunt here for a while. That should satisfy them. Besides, they won’t want the whole Norse colony coming after them — which is what would happen if we don’t return. You can tell them all that, Ari. Then they’ll release us.”
“I hope you’re right!”
“We won’t try to escape now,” Rigg suggested. “They might not like that! Let’s talk with them first and see what happens. We can threaten them with reprisals if they don’t co-operate.”
“So you’re going to let the Tornit have our wolf?” Rigg frowned. “What are you talking about?” Ari didn’t know he had wounded the wolf.
“That girl is singing to the wolf spirit, asking its forgiveness for killing it. The Tornits must have killed the wolf after we spotted it. If we let them keep it and the settlement folk find out, we’ll be the laughingstock of the colony.”
Rigg groaned. Of course Ari was right. Even so, there were more important issues at hand. “Let’s get them to free us first,” he said. “Then we’ll decide what to do. Can you call to them in the Tornit language?”
“Of course. Except that since I’m hanging upside down it may come out backwards.”
Rigg laughed. “Just get talking, my poet friend!”
Ari began calling out in the fluid Tornit tongue, a language that made Rigg think of melting ice and flowing water.
The girl’s singing stopped at once. There was a long pause.
“Why don’t they come in here?” Rigg wondered aloud. From where he lay, even by twisting his head, he couldn’t quite see the entrance to the cave chamber.
Ari started to call out again, then stopped in mid-sentence. He was staring at the cave entrance, a look of surprise on his face.
“It’s the girl herself,” he whispered to Rigg. “The singer.”
“Yes, it is! And how are my prisoners?”
Rigg was astounded. A female voice had spoken from close beside him, using the Norse language. He tried to get a glimpse of her, failed, then with a great effort wrenched his whole body round, and at last beheld the figure standing in the arched cave passage.
It was a Tornit girl of Rigg’s age or younger, tall and slender, and dressed in brown skin garments fringed with fur. In her right hand she
