by Jeffrey R. Krogh

Chapter One: A Day of Labor

Albert plowed alone. That was unusual. Not the plowing—that was done when the frosts were over—but a man plowing alone when he had neighbors to lend him a hand, that was an ill fortune. Such a curse only befell someone when he had done some wicked deed, roused the ire of the village elders. Albert’s wicked deed was climbing the Old Gods’ Boulder. He’d done it many times, and Father Norris, the priest of Barney’s Tavern, had told him more than once not to. The Old Gods’ Boulder was evil, said Norris, who had helped found the village fifteen years ago. When he and Albert’s father and the others first came here, they found the carvings and the rotting wood and the hollowed-out spot the size of a man’s skull on top of the boulder. An ancient pagan altar had once stood there, proclaimed Norris; it was an evil place that no God-fearing man should approach evermore. But Albrecht, who was Albert’s father, laughed and cleared away the debris, and that was that, as far as Albert was concerned. No matter what it may have been in the days of their fathers’ grandfathers, today it was but a great stone, and a good place to sit and think. Norris, stubborn as the mule who was his constant companion, had, over the years, instilled the villagers with the fear of demons. Now all save Albert shunned the Old Gods’ Boulder. All save his own kin turned angry faces to him when he mounted the towering monument. Albert wasn’t hurting anybody by sitting there. His father had never listened to Norris, who wandered the village with his ridiculous mule bothering people with ridiculous stories all day and night. Folks always said, before he died, that Albrecht’s lore came from a lower fount. Albert agreed, though not in the manner that the others meant. While Norris drew his questionable wisdom from unseen spirits and powers, Albrecht’s knowledge had been that of the earth, of living things, of the seasons—all objects a man could lay his hands on and work with. So when Father Norris caught Albert climbing the boulder a week before the plowing was to begin and told him his family would be shunned if he tried it again, Albert turned him a deaf ear.
He did tell Mama about it, though. Later, after his hackles had gone back down and he’d thought about what Norris had said, he wondered if it would be wise to defy the priest again. At least for the time being. This time of year the villagers banded together to do the plowing and sowing. Being shunned meant having no help with his fields, none at all, and even worse, it meant being shut out of market. He’d never had to work the farm without the help of the others. After Albrecht’s death, Norris had seemed willing to overlook Albert’s trespasses because of his youth, but this spring was different. The threat of the ban was real. All the other families followed Norris’ word on everything: when to plant, when to pray, when to feast. Nobody would help Albert if Norris told them not to. Albert had no brothers, none living at least, and no father, and his sisters Anne and Edith couldn’t help him much with the heavy tasks, being needed for the weeding and the animals and all of that. So if he was shunned, he’d have to do all the plowing, all the sowing, all the harvesting by himself. It would be a lot of work, more than most men could handle. He could do it. He was young, tall, and strong. If some ill fate befell him, though...well, there was no use thinking about that. Everyone depended on him, and that was that.

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All contents of Skaldheim (C) 1998 by Jeffrey R. Krogh.
URL: http://www.skaldheim.com/fiction/acoe/chapter1/1.html
Revised: January 25, 1998.