Omake - the Thrall Life
Warning the following contains scenes of gore and grimdark. I wrote this up on a fancy after someone asked to have some indepth explanations about how Slavery worked in Scandinavia. This is a short writeup of some of it. Maybe later i will give a proper blurb about specifics of law, rights and treatment of ThrallsScreams in the night.Out of your bed, chasing after your brothers and father who are already running outside.
As you leave the hut the heatwave physically drives you back a few feet. The village is on fire. Panicking you go for a bucket only to see your family members to go for axes and spears. Your father throws you a spear and looks at you earnestly.
"That is not a fire". Still half asleep you don't understand yet.
When you finally reach the village square understanding dawns...
Demons. Nothing else could explain the horror before you. The church gates were open and women, children and the old were pressing inside, Father Michael pushing them inside as fast as he could.
The square itself was slick with blood as your own fyrd was barely holding the line. The grown men of the village had barely any chance as the Demons broke through the shieldwall, laughing and screaming in their hellish rythmic tongue they were tearing apart any who would fight, knocking the rest out.
Screaming your father and brothers charge to help the rest you following lamely, terror nearly freezing you in place. In the stories the hero now fights back the demons or bandits and saves the village, here you are watching as a single one of these demons fluidly evades the axes and spears of your family, his own axe finding purchase in your fathers face, your brother Aefelsteins jaw smashed apart by the shield spike.
With the flick of a wrist the axe takes of a good chunk of fathers face, splattering you in blood and parting the jugular of your big brother Harlaw. Harlaw the lumberjack who had the strength of a bear...felled like one of his trees.
The Blood covered Demon was cackling madly and now turning to you. Your pulse heightens, your irises widen, adrenaline floods your veins. You would. You would. You would...almost gently he takes the spear out of your hand, you stare helplessly at this monster...this demon...who under the blood and gore and the helmet...is in fact human. He gives you a disdainful look before bashing you over the head with the blunt side of his axe.
For a moment you sway in place, something warm trickling down your head. around you those who haven't been slain yet are dragged to a central place and bound. the few valuables of the villagers are heaped from each of the houses, while others of the raiders set fire to Hughs Smithy.
You feel nothing. you take in, you process. Without an emotion you process as they set fire to the church gates...as Father Michael pushes open the gates to avoid a death in fire...as his robes start to burn and the raiders wordlessly stare at the burning priest begging them for water...which they instead use on the church gates, several of them charging past you and into the church, wordlessly you stare at the man in front of you, looking at you incredously before giving you another smack and sending you into merciful darkness.
-----
You awake on the beach, around you are the survivors of your village and the raiders seem to be loading the ships. One of them, the one who killed your family is in a deep discussion with a man the size of a giant.
They turn to look at you and you feel that something is wrong.
"Look down boy! they will use you for their babaric rituals otherwise!"
Your trance broken your eyes swivel to the right. Old Harding, the village elder. Well old in your eyes, the man was in reality no older than fourty.
"Wha-"
"Northmen boy. the Scourge of God. Sent to punish us for our sins. The pagans need a sacrifice to appease their idols."
In that moment the raider from before comes directly at you. you stare at him wide-eyed as he drags you to your feet. Again he speaks in his rough tongue a grin on his face.
Suddenly Harding jumps up and headbutts the man in the gut, who simply rolls with the sucker-punch. With a shove he drops you back to your knees. Grabbing Harding instead, giving him a calculating look before dragging him off.
Wordlessly you stare, mouth agape as he is dragged before the longship and bound. The Raiders gather and the one who killed your family...the one with the red-matted beard starts speaking, chanting and shouting.
Odin. Over and over again. Odin. You stare as Harding starts shouting himself "SAVE US O LORD FROM THE WRA-" the fist of the giant knocks Harding out cold and with it most of his teeth.
Again Odin. the chanting continues then with lightning speed a knife is drawn and Hardings throat is cut. Wide-Eyed you look as his blood runs into the beach, runs into the water.
As the redbeard grabs hardings head and pulls it back so that the jugular vein sprays the bow of the ship in blood. You stare wide-eyed, mouth-agape...but not a single word escapes your throat.
This was your tenth birthday.
---------
Long was the travel and ardouus. Sitting in the middle of the cramped ship you stare out towards the sea, around you other prisoners are huddled, tired, shocked but not starving nor dehydrated. If anything the Northmen were taking care of their prisoners.
As you travelled you were largely ignored, pushed out of the way like some errant box if you come underfoot (which you quickly learned to avoid) and sometimes kicked in irritation if someone stumbled over you.
Oddly enough the Northmen were rowing themselves, none of your fellow prisoners having to do anything but sit and wait. If someone spoke up in English, he was beaten, if someone screamed or shouted they were beaten. If someone tried to escape...you get the picture.
If you were silent and kept out of the way, you got your daily food and drink ration.
After two weeks finally signs of habitation came into sight and the redbeard finally stood up and turned to you...and to your total suprise he started speaking fluent English.
"Okay folks. You are now thralls. Slaves in your tongue. You are no longer free. You belong to me and mine and will be sold off at leisure. Should you try to escape you will be flogged and returned, have i made myself clear? There is nowhere to escape besides. Everyone knows a thrall and no one will shelter you. Subservience will be rewarded, Disobedience will be punished. Now that we got that business out of the way, line up, your teeth will be chiselled."
Your fellow prisoners look at each other confusedly before the giant navigator of the ship drags you to your feet and over to one of the vikings who is awaiting with hammer and chisel. You finally realize whats going on and panic...too late. The iron grip of the giant man prevent you from moving
-----
"This is your new home, you will sleep with the cattle and you will care for it. Look to the other slaves for guidance." The old man stares at you silently expecting an answer.
"Well?"
The redbearded viking which by now you have come to know as Corv turns to the old man. "Erik, he does not speak."
"You sold me a hel-damned mute slave?"
"He is dilligent and tough. You use him for simple farm labor anyway so what do you care if he can or can't speak?"
the old man huffs in irritation. "True, Varangian, true. Fine heres your silver now get the hell out of my house i have no intention of you emptying my few mead reserves."
----
The work comes quick and easy, same as back home, you help till the fields and work them. You care for the animals and help clean the longhouse when necessary. Simple work with simple rewards.
Erik is apparently not the best of masters but not the worst...thats at least whats Patrick the Irish says. Patrick ought to know, after all he has been a thrall for more than 30 years now. Always changing hands he never managed the necessary 10 years to become a freedman, his money had been lost twice both times as he was taken prisoner in oen raid or another.
You don't know and you don't care, you still have night terrors from that horrible day three months back. The farm labour is calming and Erik feeds you well. THe clothes he gives you are coarse but he can't afford much more, not for his slaves at least.
"Fine Clothes on Slaves is like pearls for the pigs" different than other Northmen is Erik, says Patrick. Other Northmen are far more concerned at appearances at least when they are important and thus look that their slaves are well-clothed. Some with terrible fortunes even starve their slaves but clothe them well just to keep up looks.
Today you are working on the high fields, they are close to Valþjófrs farm. The steep declines are treacherous and one has to be careful not to cause a landslide. There are five of you, Patrick, Eriks son Leif, and three newer slaves which Erik had to buy after a particular persistent wave of pig flu killed not only three of his pigs but the three slaves who had to sleep in the same barn.
"Liam! keep away from that bloody ledge you'll cause a-"
Patricks words were cut off as the entire ledge broke off in a deafening rumble dragging Liam with him and drowning the wheat on Valþjófrs farm...a years harvest...gone.
Stunned you look on as Liam scrambles out of the mud only to be beaten down again by a raging Valþjófr, screaming bloody murder and for his son to get the axe.
Screams in the night - the face of your father sheared off with a flick of the axe - Father Michael on fireyou blink, seeing the carnage before you, Liam dead, Patrick dead, Atte the finn scrambling to shield Leif Eriksson from a vicious beating by Valþjófr, before his son rams an axe into the hapless thrall.
Wailing you charge among them throwing over Valþjófr and hitting his son in the chin before he can bring down the axe on the young boy. You grab the eight year old by the nape of his neck and drag him with you, running as fast as you can back to Eriks house.
-----
"Erik Thorvaldsson you stand here accused of the killing of Valþjófr Ormrsson and Garmr Valþjófrsson. Helga Valþjófrsdottir and Ulvi Thyrvaldsdottir have both witnessed your killing of the two. What is your defense in front of the Althingi?"
Thorgeir was standing on the boulder in the midst of the Assembly, spectators arrayed on the cliff behind him while the Lawspeakers and Godi and even some Christian Priests were standing around him. Your master Erik walked forth, sure of his innocence.
"Valþjófr and his son killed three of my thralls! I acted as was my right, i took my revenge!"
"That would be true if he refused to pay the wergild. But Valþjófr offered you a wergild as was proper of 15 Hacksilver for the three slain thralls."
"Those Thralls were worth far more! The Finn was a former smith, and one of the Irish could read and write! The Wergild was worth at least 90 Hacksilver!"
outrage from some of the Godis and from the spectators. 90 Hacksilver for 3 Slaves? That was quite a lot. An unremarkable slave like Liam was perhaps worth 5, trained ones like the Finn and Patrick maybe twenty to thirty each. demanding 40 or 45 for the two of them was outrageous.
"That still didn't give you the right to slay those two freemen. Even mroe so since the landslide apparently caused by your Thralls caused crops for an entire year to be destroyed. You are aware that for this grievance Valþjófr was well within his rights to slay these thralls?"
"Hel's Tits, i could have paid him for the bloody fields. But that aside he assaulted my son!"
"For which there are only two witnesses one of them a mute thrall nonetheless, that testimony cannot be accepted and the other would be your own son."
"B-but-"
"Erik Thorvaldsson, for the crime of some killings you are hereby sentenced to greater Outlawry and are banished from Iceland for all eternity. You have one year to leave the Island before your Punishment goes into effect."
------
You remembered those days vividly, how afterwards Erik beat you unconscious for not speaking, how he sold you off back to the redbearded Viking. And then the travels to Vinland and finally you met her. Frida. A girl from Germany, formerly a minor noblewoman who was visiting relatives in Francia when she was taken Thrall. She was beautiful and luckier than most. Like you she ended up in the Household of Jomar, who largely treated his thralls with disinterest.
She didn't care about your inability to speak, nor your haunted look everytime you saw Corv. Jomars Wife blessed your marriage and due to lack of a priest you got married by Orvig a Danish Christian.
Under Jomar there was also the very real possibility of becoming a freedman. The wages he paid were everything but high but that was normal for thralls, you and Frida did the maths and if you worked for another ten years you could pay for your own freedom so that you could gain a full workmans wage for the both of you...the three of you really. But the child was not so much of a concern after all, he or she would already be born a freedman...
Author
Topic: Vinland (Read 32646 times)