Kirstie

Yrsa woke Kirstie after roughly six hours of sleep. The late spring sun looked ready to rise, and Kirstie asked first thing, “Has the island been evacuated?”

Yrsa had to pause and sense her surroundings before she answered. “I don’t think so. There seem to be humans in a big room not far from here, yelling. I can feel the anger and upset from here, but I can’t hear their words, exactly, so I can’t tell you what it is about.”

Kirstie stood and touched her dress. “Fresh and clean, and no wrinkles,” she said, and the dress complied. “Too bad I can’t make my body do the same thing.” Yrsa nodded, but Kirstie felt it was not exactly fair. Yrsa always looked fresh and clean. “So, we go and find out,” she said, though she could guess. She walked into the run-down church, really a chapel overlooked by the ruins, and arrived in time to hear what the abbot said.

“But we are a small community. We have no riches. Most of our land has been taken from us, and we no longer have any influence on anyone. Why would anyone come here looking for gold and silver? I have prayed about this, and the Lord has assured me this holy island will not be despoiled for as long as I am here. Why would you come now and tell such mean and awful lies, and stir up so much trouble among the people?”

“He is not lying,” Yrsa said.

Father McAndrews mumbled something followed by a whispered “Forgive me.”

“Well then,” Kirstie shouted, interrupting the men, and gaining all of their attention. “I have my work cut out for me.” Kirstie called and became clothed in her armor and weapons. The men in the chapel shouted in response, except Father McAndrews who appeared to nod. Yrsa changed more subtly to her leather but pulled her bow seemingly out of thin air. “Come on, Yrsa. We have to see if we can stop almost four hundred men from despoiling this place.” Kirstie stopped in the doorway. “No promises on my part.”

Father McAndrews spoke. “I pray that those who are with you are more than those who are against you.”

“Good choice,” Kirstie said, and they left the building.

Kirstie contacted Fardlevan as soon as they were outside. She asked him to keep track of the progress of the longships. He said they were not far offshore and headed straight for the rise between the chapel and the old end rock. They would have to come uphill to reach the monastery and the ruins, but with more than three hundred and fifty men, they had ten times the number of men, women, and children left on the entire island, and of the thirty-five humans that refused to escape to the mainland in the nighttime low tide, twenty were unarmed monks and the rest were relatively unarmed fishermen..

Kirstie sat on the edge of the rise where the chapel stood. She found the remains of a wall in that place and sat atop the wall to wait. In front of her, between her and the sea, a flat and open space reached all the way to the small cliff and rocky shoreline. The Viking ships landed carefully along the rocky shore, and most dropped their anchors to steady the longships. a few men were left on each ship, but most came to shore and climbed the short cliff easily enough.

Kirstie got down from the wall to face them, and Yrsa joined her. Kirstie pulled her battleax, set the handle on the ground, and gripped the top of the axe with both hands, like one might hold a cane. Then she waited and growled a little.

When the men came to field, they saw her, and some stopped to look at their captains and skipari. Ulf, Harrold, Odger, and the two captains Kirstie did not know well did not stop. Rune, Jarl, and Bo Erikson paused. Kirstie concentrated. She did not want to burn Yrsa. She did not want to burn the men if she could help it. “Close your eyes,” she told Yrsa, and let a touch of the sun the god Fryer gave her out from her pores. She tried to direct it toward the front and not toward Yrsa.

The men across the way all yelled and shouted. They covered their eyes and felt what little heat did go with the light. Some sounded angry. Some sounded afraid. But they all stopped moving forward which is what Kirstie wanted. She quickly yelled as she stopped the light, hoping at least the ones who mattered would hear.

“You will not desecrate this holy island. These few monks have lost their property. They are barely able to grow enough for their daily bread. They have no gold and no silver. You have come here for nothing. Turn around and leave this place and leave these holy men alone or suffer the wrath of God.”

The angry men responded. “That won’t satisfy Cnut. We won’t get paid. You are lying.”

Captain Ulf raised his voice. “Which god?” Everyone grew silent.

“God almighty, father of our Lord Jesus the Christ,” she answered.

“And are you champion of this lord and god?” Ulf asked.

“We are here,” Kirstie heard behind her. Father McAndrews and three of the monks came to stand with her and Yrsa.

Kirstie turned her head and quietly commanded, “Stay here.” She stepped ten paces from the wall and shouted. “And you, Captain Ulf from Steinker, are you champion for these men or are you afraid and a coward?”

Plenty of eyes turned to Ulf and saw him spit. He came out from the group and stepped forward to meet her. “You insult me. Now I will have to kill you.” Njal the giant followed his captain a few steps behind.

As Kirstie stepped forward to meet Ulf in the middle of the open field, she mocked the man. “You need to fight two against one? That is hardly fair, even for a coward.”

Ulf looked back when he stopped to face Kirstie. “Stay out of it,” he told Njal before he spoke to Kirstie. “Njal is my second, just to make sure you don’t cheat.”

“So, I get a second,” Kirstie said.

“You have your girl.”

Kirstie shook her head. “To make things more even,” she said and called, “Vortesvin.” The troll appeared behind her and took a few moments to orient himself to where he was and what was happening. Vortesvin came still covered in his glamour of humanity, so he looked like an eight and a half foot true giant, not like Njal who was merely a tall man. Vortesvin came in work clothes complete with a floppy straw hat, and he only carried a hoe, but he was not only a foot and a half taller than Njal, he looked much wider as well, with muscles like the incredible Hulk. Njal took two steps back and likely considered turning around and running away.

“Vortesvin. You are not to interfere. You are here to observe, and make sure Ulf does not cheat, and see that Njal does not interfere either. If Ulf cheats or Njal interferes, you have my permission to rip them to shreds.”

“Yes, Lady.” The slight growl in the words of Vortesvin did not help Njal one bit, or Ulf for that matter.

Kirstie pulled her shield from her back, raised her battleax, and stood at the ready. Ulf pulled his sword and did not bother with his shield, like he thought this would not take long. He came at her with three quick strokes and forced her back. She swung her axe at his head, and he jumped back. She swung at his legs, and he jumped back again. He got mad and came at her, but she blocked his sword with her shield and swung again for his neck. He avoided the hit, but she scraped his shoulder and tore the leather. If this had been a more modern duel, first blood would have ended it in Kirstie’s favor, but this was not really a duel. Someone would die.

Ulf stepped back to think. Maybe this won’t be so easy, and he pulled his shield. Both combatants paused as an arrow flew passed. Someone in the line of men cried out. He was one of Ulf’s crew. He grabbed his chest where Yrsa’s arrow pierced his heart. His own arrow left the bow but did not travel far as he dropped the bow and fell over, dead.

“Cheater,” Kirstie said, and Ulf roared and rushed her, landing blow after blow. It hurt her left arm to fend off the sword with her shield. Kirstie got a couple of blows against the man which kept him from simply overpowering her, but sometimes he used his shield like a club, and she kept backing up because of it. Finally, she swung a hard blow to the top of his head, but he got his shield up in a way that caught the blade. Her axe busted the metal border and stuck fast in the top of the boss. Ulf grinned and yanked the axe right out of Kirstie’s hand. It smarted something terrible.

The axe flew to the ground, and after a moment to examine his broken and cracked shield, he threw the shield after the axe. He got both hands on his sword where he could take advantage of his superior strength. He grinned at her. He thought he had her, but Kirstie called, and her sword, salvation, vacated the sheath and flew to her hand. Ulf paused in wonder, but it was what Kirstie needed. She moved her shield to her right arm and gripped her sword with her left hand.

Ulf came at her, swinging wildly. Again, she backed up and turned toward his sword side, so he kept having to turn to get at her. She did use her shield as a club a couple of times to make him back up. She was told not to do that. It would tire her out much too quickly, but she had no choice. He was relentless, and while she tried to respond with her own sword, she eventually had her sword knocked from her weak left hand.

Finally, she tripped, or got pushed, or blocked his blow in just the wrong way. Her shield slipped from her arm as she landed on her back. His expression turned to gloating. He turned his sword to point down on her. He planned to pin her to the ground like a bug. He stood over her, but he forgot. Kirstie called the sword to her hand, and as he struck down, she shoved her sword up into his middle even as she twisted and sat up, so his blow missed her completely.

Ulf’s eyes got big. Kirstie used her foot against the man’s chest to pull her sword from his middle. She pulled some of the man’s insides with it, and he fell on his back to bleed out.