Historical Setting: 793 C.E. Mooring at The North Sea
It was an uneasy sleep never knowing when the wind would turn. It will take a rare easterly to set us on our way and this may just be that day. The orders for thralls are for two slaves in each ship.
The lifting of the fog hints at a favorable wind. Enough rain fell that slaves are ordered to scoop and bail the rain water that accumulated under the floorboards. I hope this particular boat I’ve been assigned has a tight hull so bailing will only be rainwater.
With the fog rising, every man is at the oars and we move swiftly and silently out of the fjord and onto the sea. Even the sea, at the mouth of the inlet seems smooth. Swells move under the surface rhythmically breaking behind us as shore waves. That’s how it is with an east wind. The top of the water seems nearly smooth but each gust from the east ruffles the surface backwards as though the winds were petting a cat from the tail to head.
We row when the coxswain says “row.” Then when sailing at sea one of the thralls assigned the task will climb into the rigging. I assume that assignment was not made based on climbing skills, it is more about who to risk. No Viking slave-master wants a fellow Norseman dropping into the sea by accident.
Rumor has it that Lindisfarne and Jarrow are monasteries on islands off a western land and these rich islands aren’t guarded by soldiers. They will be easy targets for Viking raids. It is said that Christians have all varieties of gold and jewels, unguarded, perceived by the likes of Emil, with his collection of chism, simply as Christian generosity.
These men sharpened their swords. I hope the Christians across the sea saw the warnings in the skies and have found safe hiding places for themselves and their treasures. With all of God’s power to create a universe of stars and omen and persistently wrap the earth in love, listening to every creature of earth whisper prayers, then to forgive and set us all in patterns and seasons guiding us through the rigors of natural events — why would this God not be warning the Christians of impending doom?
The voice of the rowing orders knife through the early morning drear calling for sails to be set to capture this strangely backwards wind.
With sails, we move briskly against the swells until the new wind from the south hints the change.
(Continues Tuesday, June 3)
Lazarus Ink 