Kirstie

The next morning, Kirstie did not feel a great deal better. She tried to shrug it off, but her heart and head knew there was more to it than that. The excited cries and shouting in the far distance woke her. She wondered if they caught the murderer. Poor Father Damien. He worked tirelessly to bring the good news to her pagan people. He seemed to be making some real headway in Nidaross and up on the Frosta Peninsula, but then he got found three days ago by the Varnes River, shredded to pieces. Some said a bear did it, but others whispered the word Hag. Kirstie thought it could not be a hag. Abraxas, the would-be-god, and hag maker was banished to the second heavens and not allowed again on the earth. It had to be something else, but what?

The shouts came again all the way from the village. She recognized that sometimes, in the right weather conditions, the sound would echo off the mountains around the fjord. Still, this was shouting and loud. She could not imagine Strindlos making all that fuss over a sail on the horizon. Old Captain Olaf was expected. She imagined it was him coming from his stop in Nidaross. She sat up with hope. Wilam stood by the window and tossed Kirstie her dress. “Hurry,” he said. “They are coming this way.”

Kirstie took a moment to reflect. That much sound coming all the way from the village suggested something more, like maybe fighting. She stood and rejected the dress. She called to her armor back and it arrived, but with the weapons all detached. She grumped and had to attach everything by hand. She just got all the blades and accoutrements exactly where she wanted them when she heard a knock on the door.

“Kirstie.” Thoren, Kare’s friend called. “You, too, Halfdan.” He called Wilam. “The council wants to see you.” Kirstie let him finish speaking before she opened the door. Inga came with Thoren, but quietly stood a step behind. She would not look up. Kirstie sneezed.

“You didn’t sail with Frode?” Kirstie asked.

Thoren shook his head. “We had a falling out. Mostly, I was not willing to move Hilda and the family to Nidaros.”

Kirstie understood. She deliberately took Wilam’s hand. “I’m ready,” she said. “Did they catch the murderer? Is there more trouble looming around on the horizon?”

Thoren laughed. “Captain Harrold asked, what murder? Does another dead Christian count?”

“Yes,” Kirstie said firmly and hit Thoren in the arm hard enough to be sure he felt it. He stopped laughing.

“A shame on our homes and hospitality.” Inga finally spoke.

“You’re right,” Thoren admitted. “But no murderers caught. It’s the bow,” he said, and then he said no more.

Kirstie did not ask.

When they arrived, Mother Vrya met them at the door and led Kirstie away from Wilam and the men, or maybe Kirstie led the crippled old woman to a seat. Captain Olaf sat there along with the captains Jarl, Harrold, Frode, and Kerga the Chief. Kirstie turned to get Inga’s attention and only then noticed Inga had moved away.

“This is foolish,” Jarl said and pointed to the rainbow clearly visible in the middle of the room. “It is a mirage, such as one sometimes sees when at sea. I can walk right through it.” He did, and Kirstie noticed the rainbow came down through the roof and shot to the floor.

“What need have we to hear from the women?” Frode wondered with a glance at Kirstie.

“I have said Inga may tell what she knows.” Kerga said, gruffly. Kirstie caught the chief looking at Mother Vrya and her slight nod in agreement.

“And I have said I will listen.” Harrold growled. “Sit down, Jarl.”

The captain sat. Brant Svenson said nothing since everyone knew of his closeness with Inga. Likewise, Olaf, now with Wilam beside him, knew it was not his village and not his turn to speak. Behind the Northumbrians, Kirstie saw Hilda and Thoren’s Erik at the front of the crowd of witnesses. Erik, seventeen-year-old, newly married, and newly accepted by Frode for a spot on Frode’s ship pulled up a spot right behind Wilam as Inga stepped up to speak.

“It was the year the Vanlil came, and the Hag drove them to war. I was eighteen, and my young charge was ten and a handful. Kirstie’s parents were already killed, but she did not know her father was also gone, and so we used to sit along the south beach as she looked for signs of a sail. I remember the day as if it was today. We were always searching the horizon and so we did not notice the boiling of the sea which began at our very feet. Soon, however, the boiling of the sea became violent in that one small place before us. Then, to my shock and near death at the sight, Njord himself rose from the waters, larger than this big house and more awesome than all the men of Valhalla put in one place.”

“Nonsense!” Jarl began, but Harrold slugged him. Harrold liked a good story, even if he did not believe a word of it.

“Kairos.” Njord spoke to the girl as you might speak to a good friend not seen in years. “Traveler.”

“Once Grandfather,” Kirstie responded with the slightest bow as if the Lord of the Seas himself deserved no more. “But why are you here? Did you not cross over with the others, ages ago?”

“More than eight hundred years ago,” the Great God spoke.

“Yes, and Old One Eye wasn’t too happy about it, I bet.”

“Frigg had to drag him,” The god said, and young Kirstie giggled. I tell you, she laughed. I did not know what to think.

Kirstie felt beet red at the moment, and surprised that Mother Vrya was not appalled at the flippant way she spoke to the god and referred to the King of the Gods as Old One Eye. Certainly, the others in the room looked appalled.

“But what are you doing here?” Kirstie continued.

“Where the Waters are, my Spirit will always linger and never be far away,” Njord spoke again. “But I am not really here. I am just reacting to the fire still loose in the world that is seeking to harm my grandson, though at the present you happen to be my granddaughter.”

“I don’t understand,” Kirstie admitted. I remind you; she was only ten.

“Just open your mouth and close your eyes and you will get a big surprise.” Njord said, and she did, trusting him with a complete trust. Then I saw the Great God change into a mighty river, then a roaring stream, and last a gentle fountain of water that filled Kirstie, entering her mouth, and vanishing away.

“The girl seemed the same after that day, but in some ways, she was also subtly changed. You know how she swims, and the cold of the waters do not harm her. You know how the fish always come when she casts her line, and how she knows the storms at sea before their time.”

“A fantasy!” Jarl interrupted.

“A fanciful tale.” Harrold agreed. “But what of the truth?”

“It is true.” Kerga astonished everyone. The room became completely still. “The good Mother Vrya and I were not far from that very spot on that day. I would even say that was a very plain telling. The truth, Harrold, was far more frightening and hard to believe even when seeing and hearing it with my own eyes and ears.”

Several people looked at Mother Vrya, but all she could do was nod her assent to what Kerga said.

“But Lord.” Inga struggled to regain the floor. “There is more.” The quiet came slowly. “I did not understand the references to Grandfather, Grandson, and Granddaughter when the words were spoken. All these years I kept those mysteries in my heart. But now, after the events of the evening when Father McAndrews came to us in peace and we brought shame on ourselves in his murder, events which I suddenly remembered in great detail when his young companion, Father Damien was most recently slain, I begin to understand. It was not Elgar the Saxon, or Mother Greta, or the good doctor, but one we have not met. My heart keeper, the beautiful Fryja was his mother, wasn’t she?” Inga and all eyes turned suddenly toward Kirstie. Where she had been embarrassed and then felt very uncomfortable. Now she felt mortified. She could not even look up.

“More than two thousand years ago,” She mumbled in utter softness.

The crowd began to make noise again, but somehow Thoren stood and said, “Wait. There is more.” He shouted in echo of Inga’s words, “There is more,” and the people quieted to hear.