The Memory Painter

She had been missing for months now—taken the same day their son had been murdered.

Bjarni had returned home from his fields to find Anssonno lying dead on the doorstep, his neck slit open like a hunted animal’s. Inside, the longhouse was marked with signs of a dreadful fight, and the weapons Bjarni kept hung by the door were strewn across the bloodied floor. Garnissa was gone.

The villagers had searched the area for days, but Bjarni knew she would not be found. The intruder had left behind something Bjarni had thought he would never see again—Garnissa’s vegvísir. His eyes had settled on it as he had cradled his son’s lifeless body. It was lying in the doorway on top of Garnissa’s hustrulinet, the lovely white headdress she wore over her hair. When Bjarni saw the vegvísir and headdress together, he knew that Tarr had taken her and that he would never see his wife again.

There had been talk of a raider’s ship being spotted up the coast two days before. It had been well over a decade since Bjarni had last seen Tarr, and he had thought him gone from his life. But Tarr must have remained intent on taking his revenge. And Bjarni could now see that Tarr had not plotted to kill him, but had waited to destroy everything he loved.

When Bjarni realized that Tarr was the one who had taken her, he—along with Garnissa’s brothers—had set out in the Gata, searching for any sign of the raider. But they had no success, and for months he had sunk into the darkest despair.

It was in such a state that his old friend, Leif Erikson, had found him. One of Erik the Red’s sons, Leif had been living for many years in Norway at the royal court. Bjarni had not seen him since their youth. Leif had finally come to Greenland to see the settlement for himself and bring priests of a new religion called Christianity that had been gaining popularity in the south. They were already busy building a chapel and visiting all the settlers to invite them to attend.

Leif had come to Bjarni’s longhouse to pay his respects. The loss of Garnissa and Anssonno were still the talk of the village.

“Would you not see one of the priests?” Leif had asked him gently. “Perhaps it would help bring you peace.”

Bjarni looked at him with eyes red from too many tears and too little sleep. “If I went to Odin, ruler of Alsgard, or to your new god, and asked them why Garnissa had been taken, why my son had been killed, I wager neither would have an answer.”

Leif did not press the point and nodded solemnly. They drank mead by the fire, and Bjarni turned the subject to Leif’s plans.

“I had not given it much thought beyond reaching Greenland,” Leif admitted.

“Have you need of a ship?” Bjarni asked.

Leif looked at him in question.

“I am to sell the Gata. I do not need it anymore.”

“But she is yours.”

“I would give her to you,” Bjarni said. “And rest easy knowing that she was out on the sea with you as her captain.”

Leif was speechless. A ship as fine as Bjarni’s would change everything.

“I have but one request,” Bjarni said.

“Anything.”

“Find the land I sighted. I will tell you the way.”