Author: M G Kizzia

Medieval 6: K and Y 17 The Rainbow, part 2 of 2

M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Kirstie

Thoren gave Kirstie a hard look before he began.

“In those same days, when the Vanlil of Jamtaland invaded our peaceful village, some of us who were younger in that day were set beside the woods and hills to watch for the enemy. You all know this is so. And on that day, Kare and I were well hidden, our eyes open, and we saw Kirstie come to the very edge of the trees. She must have escaped from her watcher.” Thoren paused to look at Inga and Inga responded.

“She escaped several times,” she admitted and lowered her eyes.

“Kare and I argued about which one of us would marry that girl, but not for long as the whole edge of the forest suddenly lit up, bright as the sun. It looked like a piece of the sun itself fell to that spot. I looked away, but Kare stared too long. You all remember that Kare could not see for three days after. Thanks to the good work of Mother Vrya, his eyes were repaired, but Kare never told how his eyes came to be damaged, and I never told.” Thoren paused to nod at Mother Vrya before he continued.

“Soon, the light grew less strong, and I dared to look again. A man stood there, facing Kirstie who did not appear to have even blinked in the face of that light. And there was heat also, like the sun. I wondered how the girl could not have been burned to ash. Then I heard them speaking.

“My daughter,” the man said. “A different daughter, but all the same I have a gift for you.” He took her hands and Kirstie appeared to catch fire. She became covered in flames, and I almost shouted and showed myself, but the flames quickly became less as the man spoke. “I am sorry I was not a very good father to you.”

“Oh, no,” Kirstie said. “You were a wonderful father. You watched over me and kept me safe when no one else could, and I love you very much.” Kirstie changed then into a different person, another woman, one with red hair and… and…” Thoren smiled, a very unusual sight. “And I did not think I could ever become interested in another woman after seeing her. She was beautiful beyond words.”

The confession was embarrassing. Thoren married Kirstie’s best friend, Hilda, when Erik’s father failed to come home from the sea. In fact, Thoren was the father of Hodur, her son Soren’s best friend. But Kirstie could not think of that just then. She felt she had to say something to Mother Vrya. “Faya,” Kirstie whispered, and added, “Five thousand years ago.” Mother Vrya made no answer.

“Anyway,” Thoren continued after a moment. “It could only have been one of the gods. You know Kirstie is a fire starter. She can take soaking wet wood, frozen solid, and cause it to burn. You all know this is so. Now you know how she came by this skill.”

Before Thoren could sit down, Kerga cut through the noise. “Who do you figure it was?”

Thoren paused to think out loud. “He had two hands… He did not have an eye patch…”

“Freyr,” Kirstie interrupted. “God of the sun.” She paused and admitted to the crowd. “I think this rainbow is here for me.” She refused to look at anyone.

“But look,” Harrold said. “This is daft. The bow is an illusion as Jarl has said. It is not something to climb. It is no ladder to the realm of the gods.”

“Perhaps not to you.” Chef Kerga spoke at last. Mother Vrya tugged on Kirstie’s arm. Kirstie got up, but still did not look at anyone. If it was the rainbow bridge that led to Aesgard, or not, she felt she had to know. Yet as she sneezed, she thought she should be going to Avalon, not Aesgard.

She stepped up on the rainbow. It felt as solid to her as—she did not know the word. Her Storyteller life suggested an escalator. “Yes,” Kirstie whispered out loud. “But not a moving one. I’ll have to climb with my own legs.” While a few people screamed, the Storyteller amended his suggestion. “A Stairway to Heaven.” Some people ran from the room. Wilam said something that got everyone’s attention.

“I’m coming with you.” He had to shout above the noise.

“I can’t wait for you.” Captain Olaf spoke with a trembling voice.

“Pick me up at summers end, or not at all,” Wilam said, and he jumped. He stood beside Kirstie on the bridge. Neither knew if he might simply slide through the light and land on the floor, but apparently once Kirstie mounted the rainbow, it became solid enough.

“Inga?” Kirstie called. She hardly had to ask. Inga grabbed her bag with all of her potions and such, and grabbed Brant by the hand, so together they joined the rainbow crew. Oddly, the rainbow seemed well able to accommodate them all.

Young seventeen-year-old Erik ran up. “No way! I’m in on this! You’re not leaving me behind now.”

“Go home Erik,” Brant scolded the boy.

“To Hodur and Soren? I don’t think so. Father, tell Astrid I’ll be back.” The boy jumped as Wilam had and landed firmly on the bridge.

“Then I had better come, too.” Thoren spoke and surprised everyone.

“No more!” Kerga started yelling.

“To watch the boy,” Thoren explained himself,, but when he tried to step on the bow, his feet slid right through.

“I will watch him,” Inga said, and Thoren nodded, trusting, as Kirstie began to walk up the rainbow. The others followed her.

Mother Vrya caught Kirstie’s eye at the last moment. Kirstie knew the old woman and Yrsa would care for the children and Hilda would care for Soren until she got back, if she did get back. The old woman’s eyes told her that much.

“No more!” Kerga still yelled until Kirstie got to the ceiling and without a pause, walked right through the wood as if it was not there. The others came with her. The big house with the meeting hall vanished. They found clouds around them. They had no way of telling how high they were. They felt like they climbed for hours, or a few seconds, or minutes, or perhaps for days.

Finally, they passed out of the world altogether, from the first heavens to the second heavens.

~~~*~~~

Kirstie knew the feeling well. This was the second time Kirstie actually experienced it. She remembered that she and Inga, with the fairy Buttercup sitting on Inga’s shoulder, just caught Erik on the road. He was having second thoughts about marrying Astrid, and Kirstie did not entirely blame him. They were just sixteen, and that felt terribly young.

Erik and Astrid would have Hilda’s old house, the house he grew up in. It was all arranged, but Erik was getting what they called cold feet and Buttercup said maybe he needed a present to encourage him.

“I don’t see how that would encourage him,” Inga said, frankly, but Kirstie had a thought. It was something she never did before, but something inside her said no time like the present, so she asked the fairy a question.

“How many miles to Avalon?”

“Three score miles and ten,” Buttercup answered and excitedly clapped her hands.

“Can I get there by candlelight?”

“Yes, and back again.” Buttercup squealed in delight as an archway appeared in the road just ahead of them. It was a door to Avalon, and Kirstie had never been there before. She wondered why she felt such a strong desire to go there at that time, of all times, but did not imagine it would be a bad thing. Inga and Erik came with her and Buttercup, and they spent the next three days in the castle around all the little ones, and all the kings and queens of the elves, fairies, dwarfs, and so many others it would take all day to explain. They feasted, danced, sang, and played as only the little ones knew how to do so well. But when three days were up, they had to come home, and they arrived back on the road only three hours after they left.

Kirstie wondered if her first trip to Avalon coincided with trouble in the Second Heavens. They had a wonderful time over those three days, and no one let on that there was any problem, but she wondered if it was just beginning. Two days after Erik’s wedding, she set sail with the men of Trondelag to got to King Harald’s war. Hardly two months later, she got word that she was needed at home. She wondered if the trouble had something to do with Abraxas.

She understood the feeling everyone was feeling as a feeling of sudden contrasts, where everything took on an eerie, queasy sense of unreality. She felt it when she went to Avalon, and supposed Inga and Erik remembered it as well. The first time the Kairos climbed the Rainbow bridge, or the first time she presently remembered, she went as the Nameless god, a god among the gods. Even he thought he passed from life to death. The group all felt it. Wilam and Brant actually became sick to their stomachs. Erik became disoriented and only Inga’s quick hand kept him from stepping off the bridge altogether. A little further on, and the feeling lessened before it went away, or perhaps the group began to get used to the new sense of proportions in their surroundings.

“Where are we?” Wilam asked Kirstie, and even as he asked, they came to the place.

“The top of the bridge,” Kirstie said. “Do you see right here?” She pointed at a particular spot by her feet.

“I see only a cloud.”

“An ankle-deep mist or fog,” Brant suggested.

“What about it?” Inga asked.

 “This was Heimdallr’s favorite spot,” Kirstie answered. “From here, he could see everything happening on the whole earth and listen to all the conversations of the people.”

“I don’t see…” Erik started to speak but stopped when he noticed a small echo in his words.

“He is gone now,” Kirstie continued. “They are all gone. We have been cast adrift, left to hear the good news, or to reject the same. It is up to us to make the future a good one or self-destruct.”

No one answered her. As she began to walk, a path appeared to open up in the mist and she cautioned people to stick to the path. “Once, this was a broad road paved in gold and solid as you may imagine. The walls of Aesgard are behind us and all around. We have come in the rainbow gate. Folkvangr is to our left. Valhalla is to our right. In the old days, men and women of worth and valor went to one or the other, to the Vanir or the Aesir. Now, the halls are all empty.

“Where did they all go?” Brant asked.

“God alone knows,” Kirstie answered. “But when the gods gave up their bit of flesh and blood and went over to the other side, the people, those who died were taken. All we are told is everyone will be raised up in the last day and enter into Heaven or be cast down to Hell.”

“This isn’t heaven?” Wilam asked.

“The Second Heavens. You might call it the dividing line between the throne of God in the third heavens and the earth under the first heavens.”

“Kirstie. There is a light.” Inga pointed to their left. It looked like a small building and a firelight shining from a window.

“The path seems to lead there,” Brant agreed.

“So, we go see and say hello,” Wilam said, and Kirstie nodded before she sneezed.

************************

MONDAY

Kirstie and her crew find their way to the golden streets of Asgard, but the place is deserted and getting to the source of the trouble proves difficult. Until Monday, Happy Reading

*

Medieval 6: K and Y 17 The Rainbow, part 1 of 2

M G Kizzia Leave a comment

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.

Medieval 6: K and Y 16 Good Men, part 4 of 4

M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Kirstie

“Though enough of these men are young and untried,” she told the king. “Don’t expect too much from some of them.”

“As long as they hold the line and push forward when the time comes.”

Kirstie understood but thought to add one thing. “If we are successful and the men go home enriched, all will be well. but if we are unsuccessful, don’t expect the Trondelag to come up with so many men again.”

“That is the way with battles and wars,” the king answered.

“Just so we understand, I cannot do the impossible.”

“You have not disappointed me so far.” the king smiled, and Kirstie turned to a map spread out on the table.

“So, what are we looking at? Where are the Danes and how many?”

“They are everywhere and more than I care to count.”

The king was moderately successful that year. The Danes were pushed off the Oslo Fjord, but they did not go far away. They would push in again and Fairhair would drive them back again. That area would not get resolved for at least three hundred years.

Somehow, between the fighting years, Kirstie managed another baby, a girl she called Heidi. She said she named her baby after the Valkyrie who started it all, or maybe the nice, peaceful girl on the mountain who live with her grandfather. They also squeezed in another summer trip to Northumberland.

Kirstie went three times to fight for the king. She brought six hundred and thirty on the second trip, and this time the Swedes joined with them against the Danes. They seriously pushed the Danes back that year. The third time, seven hundred and three followed her, only this time they fought the Swedes, or at least the Geats. It got tiresome, but as long as the men were successful enough to bring home some coins and some pillaged goods, there were some that would be willing.

Kirstie turned thirty on that third trip, and the king kept them fighting, until Kirstie got word there was trouble at home. Fortunately, Sigurd was of age. He fought with them the last time along with his friend Haakon, the king’s son. They said they learned a lot from Kirstie, and the king was pleased. On this third time, Kirstie told Sigurd she had to go but it was time for him to fly. Haakon flapped his arms like a bird and laughed, but they understood.

Kirstie and Wilam got a ride home with Captain Frode. The man got his own ship, and was teaching his son, Knud, the ways of the sea. He had long since moved to Nidaross and parted on the most friendly terms with Captain Rune Stenson, who himself moved to the town at the mouth of the Nid River. Strindlos was becoming a ghost town where only the determined few were hanging on.

Chief Kerga still oversaw the village. Many of the village elders remained, though for the most part their good land was up by the Varnes River, and they mostly counted themselves as men of Varnes. The Volva, Mother Vrya, and the Witcher Women held on, though Mother Vrya could hardly hobble down the road and appeared older than dirt. That meant Inga stayed in the town, if only to take care of old Mother Vrya. For all practical purposes, Inga had become the Volva for the community, for Nidaross, and to some extent, for the whole Fjord, not the least because of her close association to Kirstie.

Kirstie bought several more farms as people moved out. She set her childhood friend up in a farm across the road from the place of the Witcher Women. It had much better land for growing crops and keeping the cows and some sheep. Thoren and Hilda were grateful. Of course, Hilda had her own crew of children by then and needed the better land. The fact that it put Hodur just down the road from his best friend Soren was a plus. For Kirstie, she became something like a noblewoman. She was land rich and cash poor.

For better or worse, Kirstie became something of a ruler, in the loosest sense of the word, for the whole of the Trondelag. She certainly became one of the main leaders for several reasons. Men learned what a hag was during the Vanlil invasion, a terrible hairy monster that could shred a man better than a bear. Kirstie was the hag hunter, and a successful one. Some men were afraid of her. Then, she killed Captain Ulf at Lindisfarne. Lots of men looked to Ulf or followed him on raids. When she slew the man, she took over that group leadership, or at least they dared not cross her. Then, it was not exactly a secret, though men only talked about it in whispers, but Kirstie had some unaccountable power over the things of legend. The dwarfs and elves, light and dark, seemed to do what she wanted. She had an actual giant working on her farm for a time. She was a fire starter and had a deep connection to water and the sea. The sea, and even the storms bent to her will. She could call the fish to surrender themselves to her boat and to the fire in her fingertips. Such magic had not been seen in the Norse lands in ages, if ever. Needless to say, when she talked, the men listened. Of course, it was not something she especially wanted, but it was thrust upon her, as the man once said. Her husband being the son of Halfdan Ragnarsson did not hurt.

When Kirstie returned home and cleaned up the mess that was made, she feared being discovered at last. The king’s captain, Engle Bronson was involved, and though he died, he finally had the proof that Kirstie was indeed the Kairos, and no doubt passed that word on to Bieger. Bronson was a servant of the Masters as was his skipari, Bieger, and so were the king’s assassins, Lind, and Gruden, who would no doubt come after her. Kirstie did not want to sound paranoid, but those four had been searching for her, the Kairos-her, for the past twenty years. The thing is, they could never prove it or be sure. She seemed such a good little Viking. Now they knew. Her days in Strindlos, indeed in Scandinavia were numbered.

“So, we move to Northumberland,” Wilam said. The grandparents, my parents won’t be around much longer. My brothers, Ecgberht and Godric are more than capable of running the farm. They basically do that already, but I can help. I have learned being here that I am something of a farmer after all.”

“I am sorry about that,” Kirstie said, and rubbed her nose. “You wanted to be a navigator on a ship and have adventures, and I made you pick up a plow and a hoe.”

Wilam laughed. “I can’t imagine a more adventurous life than following you around. Besides, I got what I wanted.” He kissed her forehead and she smiled and pulled closer to him.

“You get to go again,” she said, without explaining. She sneezed. She pulled back and sneezed again.

“Are you all right?” Wilam asked.

Kirstie nodded. “I may be coming down with a cold,” she said.

“Maybe we should go to bed so you can rest,” he suggested.

“What? You got me all interested with you got what you wanted and then you just want to go sleep?” She sneezed again and found a cloth to blow her nose.

“Come on,” he said, and put her to bed.

Medieval 6: K and Y 16 Good Men, part 3 of 4

M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Kirstie

Kirstie had a daughter she named Katherine in honor of Wilam’s sister. Her six-year-old, Soren, was not impressed. Much of his time got spent with Wilam, Gustavs, Thomas, Lyall, Alm and the elves who helped around the farm, or he stayed with Hodur at Hilda’s place, or played with the other children who lived nearby, in particular, the son of the tenant farmers who lived next door. What did he want with a girl and a baby? He did not mind so much when he got to spend the summer in Northumbria with his uncles and grandparents, who spoiled him terribly.

Two years later, she had another son she named Bjorn in honor of Bjorn the Bear who helped her so much when she lost her family and lost her way. He taught her to use that battleaxe without which she certainly would have been killed ten times over. Bjorn was a good strong name, but again, Soren, now an eight-year-old, was not impressed. She did catch him twice hovering over Katherine and the baby like a mother hen hovering over her babies and talking to them like they were grown up and could understand him. Katherine certainly brightened up whenever Soren paid her attention. Of course, another baby meant another summer trip to Northumberland and the inevitable spoiling, so that was all right.

Two years after that, Kirstie did not get pregnant. Instead, she got a visit from the king who said, “Sigurd is still too young to be a real Jarl in the Trondelag like his father.” He sat at a table in the big house, and Kirstie sat across from him. The rest of the people present held their tongues.

Kirstie agreed. “Also, he lives so far away in Orlandet, on the very edge of fjord. He can’t really control the traffic in and out of the fjord, much as he might like. Many ships pass him by and forget that he is even there.”

“Which means what?” the king asked.

“Have him build a house at Hladir where the king’s house used to be. It is well within the Trondelag at the mouth of the Nid River. Nidaross is a growing community, a good shipbuilding and ship repair place, and a primary stop for ships going in and out to the North Sea. He still might not be able to control the traffic, but he can at least be part of it. He can get to know the captains and the communities in the area. It is easy to take a karve from there to any village or town in the fjord. He can keep tabs on what is produced and what can be taxed. Out in Orlandet he stays disconnected. He can only wave as the ships and life pass him by.”

“Humph,” King Harald harumphed, but he thought about it. “In any case, Sigurd is still too young, which is why I have come to you.”

“For what?” she was leery. She tried to be good company that whole time. She even sipped her beer, but obviously the king wanted something.

“You still owe me men and ships to fight the Danes.” He said plainly and smiled like the cat, and she was the mouse.

Not fair. She shouted in her head, but she said, “I’ve never tried to raise an army. What makes you think I am the right person for that job?”

The king sat back and eyed her closely before he told her what he knew. Whether what he knew was accurate or not did not matter. He knew it to be so.

“You have the reputation. You stood down a whole army in Northumbria all by yourself and even gained the respect of the king of that land. People don’t soon forget something like that. Plus, you have had success in war. That is more than some of my war leaders can say. I heard about the battle in Saxony, which you won, and young as you were, you were closely involved in the plans and execution of the effort to throw the Jamts from the land. Don’t deny it. You have sailed with the men on several successful journeys, and not just as crew, but as a navigator, the third in charge. You order men about and they do what you say and follow your lead. You have the contacts and the respect of men all over Norway. I would say if you put out the word you could easily gather a thousand men and the ships to go with them, just like my friend, Hakon Grjotgardsson.”

“Not a fair comparison,” she protested at last. “He was king in the Trondelag at the time, and in case you have forgotten, he raised those ships and men originally to fight against you. People come out to defend their homes, but not so much to sail off to some foreign war. I would be very lucky to get half that.”

“I accept,” the king said. “I will expect five hundred men and the ships in Vestfold by the end of March.”

“Not even…” Kirstie said. “Men are not going to go off and fight when they need to be planting. They don’t want to come home and starve all winter. I would say June first, at the earliest. You can have them for the summer as long as you let them go home to harvest their fields. The Danes have to plant too, you know.”

“Exactly. I was hoping to catch them when they are busy planting their fields and unprepared for battle.”

“Nice thought, but your men and their families need to eat. June first. Summer soldiers, assuming I can raise any men at all.”

“Now, five hundred is fair,” King Harald said and bargained like he might haggle in the marketplace. They eventually agreed to May first, the earliest date Kirstie hoped for, and when the king left, she kicked herself for agreeing to anything. Well, hopefully she could count on Rune, Jarl, and Harrold, and maybe a hundred and fifty men that lived between Strindlos and Nidaross.

“Only three hundred and fifty more,” she told Wilam one night in bed. She wondered if his name Halfdansson would draw any men to take a chance. “God, what have I done? Who is going to take care of my babies?” Wilam smiled and answered her.

“Between Inga and Yrsa, the babies are being spoiled as surely as Soren in Northumberland. You know you need not worry about that.”

“So, how do I get out of this predicament?” she asked.

“Well,” he said and drew out the word. “We can always work on getting you pregnant again.”

She hit him, but softly, and turned over on her side to sleep.

In the end, Kirstie raised nearly nine hundred men. Plenty were eager for Danish loot. The Danes were all said to be rich. They left the fjord with fifteen longships and fifteen smaller Karve and sailed around the entire coast of Norway to Vestfold, They lost two Karve and one longship around Jadarr in south Rogaland when a storm came up, but the rest made it well enough, arriving in Vestfold on April thirtieth, just in time. Kirstie counted eight hundred and fifty-two men in twenty-seven ships.

************************

MONDAY

Kirstie finds the men to fight for the king, but there is trouble at home and in fixing it, the king’s men finally get proof that she is indeed the Kairos. Until then, Happy Reading

*

Medieval 6: K and Y 16 Good Men, part 2 of 4

M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Yasmina

Yasmina stepped aside and Junior came from all that way in the past to stand in her shoes, as the Kairos sometimes says. He kindly kept up a glamour, so he looked, sounded, and even acted like Yasmina, though it was actually Junior in her place.

“Be free,” he said simply to the governor, and the governor became instantly free of the enchantment. The governor shook his head once and looked up and shouted. “Badroul!” She and al-Din were presently kissing. Then, everyone came at once. Suffar and a handful of guards came from the palace, because, through his sorcery, he was able to perceive that something was happening in the garden. The Jinn came to see what disturbed his spell over the governor, and he took one look, and despite the glamour, he shrieked and tried to run away.

“Stay,” Junior said, and the Jinn froze in mid-air, about two feet off the ground.

“I have sent the guards to the gates and to the docks,” Suffar bragged. “There will be no escape for you.”

Al-Rahim pulled his sword. Ziri joined him, though he faced three on one until Harun and al-Asad came up from the other side. Ziri got stabbed, but then it was four on six, and Aisha made it five on six and would fight like Yrsa the She Bear. Al-Din, if he could tear himself away from his girl, would even the odds.

Two men came at al-Rahim at once, but the old soldier easily drove them back and cut one in the arm. Ziri, Harun, and al-Asad each took a man, though Ziri was already finished.

Al-Suffar had no patience to let things play out. He fired something like sorcerer’s poison at al-Rahim and struck the old retainer square in the chest. Al-Rahim’s heart skipped a beat. He clutched his chest and stumbled. Suffar grinned, but Aisha arrived, and the two guardsmen had no better luck against her than they did against the old man. Aisha cut the other one with her knife that flashed out at super speed.

Al-Din pulled his sword and moved to defend his love, and Junior moved with him, looking like Yasmina now dressed in her armor. Badroul would have followed, but Junior made sure she felt a sudden need to see to her father who stayed on the bench and looked stunned. He stared at the Jinn frozen in mid-air. He kept trying to figure out how the trick was done. He did not see any rope or wires or anything.

“Enough,” Junior said in Yasmina’s voice. “You have misused the gift of magic given to you. Besides, the Prophet has condemned sorcery, so let it be taken from you.” He waved his hand, and suddenly Suffar was the one who clutched his chest.

Al-Rahim got up and faced his man. Aisha faced the other guard and made quick work of the man. Al-Din arrived and faced Suffar who pulled his sword and tried to defend himself. Their swords crossed twice, and al-Din slipped and stabbed Suffar in the chest. Al-Din was the lucky one. It could have gone either way.

Ziri did not survive, and Harun would now limp like his friend, al-Asad, but the guards were all put down. Junior nodded and returned to the Jinn. He lifted his hand and the lamp appeared.

“Please. Give me another chance,” the Jinn begged.

Junior just shook Yasmina’s head and crushed the lamp. The Jinn faded, yelling “No. Please,” until he vanished altogether. A great flash of light appeared, and Yasmina rubbed her eyes and asked, “What happened?”

“You killed the wicked Jinn and set my father free,” Badroul said.

“You killed him?” Aisha asked as she walked up, helping al-Rahim, who pushed away her help.

“He is free from the lamp, but he is now on the other side in the fiery land of the Jinn where he will live out the last of his years, unable to return to this earth. Junior checked. He does not have many years left, and the sad thing is he knows he could have lived them here, in the land of the living, but he simply could not resist being wicked.” Yasmina rubbed her eyes some more and found some tears, but they were from the flash of light, not sympathy for the Jinn.

“We must get to the docks,” al-Rahim said suddenly, taking everyone’s attention. Suffar and the Jinn sent the army to the docks and al-Din’s men and others are prepared to defend their ships. Men will die on both sides.”

“Governor?” Yasmina asked to stir him from his staring at where the Jinn used to be.

The governor looked at her in her armor and looked at Badroul. He looked at al-Din and threw his hands up in surrender. He said to Yasmina, “You look like a Roman, all immodest with your face and hair uncovered.” He shook his head, and it looked like a what is this world coming to kind of shake. “We must hurry,” he finished.

When they arrived at the docks, they found there had been one attack, but the guards were badly outnumbered at first, so they withdrew after light casualties on both sides. Clearly, the guards did not expect resistance. They probably imagined marching in and simply taking control of who came and went. They had to get reinforcements, and brought up men from the caravan camps, and some from the gates.

Fortunately, the governor was able to put an end to further bloodshed. It helped that the guards no longer felt compelled to interfere with lawful commerce in the port. The men of al-Din were glad to have him home. The men from Amalfi were glad they did not have to fight. Only a couple of Vikings were unhappy and said things like, “You call that a fight?”

“They sound like dwarfs,” Yasmina whispered to Aisha just before Francesco ran up.

“I was so afraid for you.” he said as he took hold of her.

“I was afraid for you,” she said, wrapping her arms around him.

“No, I knew what I was doing. You might have been walking into a trap and I would have lost you just when I found you.”

“No. I was afraid you would do something heroic and stupid and get yourself killed and make me a double widow before we even got married.”

“No… and anyway, besides Lady Kristina and your spirit maid, who I see clearly now. Do you have any more surprises?”

“Lots,” she said with a big grin.

He nodded. “Good thing I like surprises,” he said, and kissed her briefly before they caught up with what was happening.

Al-Rahim sat on a chest; the same chest Yasmina sat on earlier. He said he could not stand. His legs were numb.

“Lady?” Aisha asked. It was a serious question. Aisha had gotten in the habit of calling her by her name or calling her princess. Lady was a reference to the Kairos and Yasmina understood what she was asking with her having to ask. She shook her head. The truth was people died and even the gods were not allowed to change that truth. She began to cry just thinking about it, but al-Rahim reached out and grabbed Francesco by the shirt. He pulled the man close.

“You better take care of my princess and always love her and treat her like the precious flower she is, or I swear I will come back from the grave and haunt you.”

Francesco was not disturbed by the rough handling. “I will. I do. And it is my desire and plan to respect her and treat her well for as long as we shall live.”

“Good,” al-Rahim said. “Just so we understand each other.” With that, he closed his eyes and slipped off the chest. Yasmina and Aisha cried. Badroul and al-Din found some tears. Omar, Ali, and Sulayman, who came to join them, stayed silent with Francesco. Only the governor said something.

“I think he was a very good man.”

Medieval 6: K and Y 16 Good Men, part 1 of 4

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Kirstie

When they arrived in Strindlos, they found a whole crowd of people waiting for them. Chief Kerga was there with a few village elders, mostly men from up in the direction of Varnes. Strindlos had been bleeding people for the new town of Nidaros for some time. Chief Kerga was anxious to show that Strindlos was still a viable place to live and have a family. Trade with Northumberland looked good. Kerga and the elders gathered everything Olaf expected and a little extra to encourage him to come again.

Inga was there, Buttercup on her shoulder. She was happy to see Kirstie, Yrsa, and Soren, and acknowledged Wilam, but there was some question if maybe she was there for Brant. They hugged and held on to each other for a bit.

Hilda was there with Soren’s friend Hodur. The two boys fit right in with each other like Soren had never been away. Erik was missing, as usual, but Thoren was there which prompted a question from Kirstie that Thoren did not mind answering.

“The earl let us go, the ones who refused to act as pirates, who kept the boat while the others attacked Ellingham and Lucker. Of course, we had nowhere to go. I believe the earl considered chopping off all their heads, but in the end, he decided since they had not committed any acts of piracy against him and his islands, he would leave them go, even as you suggested, poorer, but hopefully wiser.

“Where are they now?” Kirstie asked.

“Nidaros,” Thoren said. “Kare and most of his crew have settled there.”

“And are you moving to Nidaros?” Kirstie asked outright.

Thoren looked at Hilda before he shook his head. “Kare and I had a falling out. I won’t be sailing with him anymore. I thought I might stick around here. My mother is not well, you know. That is, if Hilda doesn’t mind.”

“I don’t mind,” Hilda said and took Thoren’s arm. Her farm was not very big and not the best land, but she looked determined to make it work. “So, when are you due?” She changed the subject.

“Not for another month, at least,” Kirstie said, and only moaned a little. “Inga,” she called, and Inga separated herself from Brant.

“You look more like a month at most,” Inga said, but she smiled about it.

“I had to eat aboard ship to keep from throwing up,” Kirstie responded.

“Uh-huh,” Inga said in her most skeptical voice.

They all trooped up to Kirstie’s house, slowly to let Kirstie keep up. Alm waited there, with Gustavs, Thomas, and a very nervous Lyall who had been happily cooking and cleaning and keeping the house in order for almost a year. Thomas did his best to calm her nerves, but this would be the first time she met Kirstie, the Lady of the house, and Wilam, her Lord.

When Kirstie arrived, she reached out and carefully hugged Lyall. She said, “Welcome to my home and to the family,” and promptly turned to trudge up to the house, Inga with her. Wilam took a bit more time. He acknowledged Gustavs and Thomas and said how much he appreciated them. He also welcomed Lyall and hoped she would continue to be happy here.

Lyall looked at Thomas and smiled. “I am happy here. Thank you, thank you for buying me. This is the most wonderful place. And Thomas and Gustavs have been so kind to me. And your tenant farmers have been especially nice. I love this place. I finally feel like I have a home.” her face began to distort, and the tears came. “And I was so unhappy. But now I am happy. And it is wonderful.” That was all she could say, and Wilam waved to Thomas and pointed at Lyall. Thomas held the woman.

“Well, welcome,” Wilam said, and he also retreated to the house.

Yasmina

It was not two hours before several things happened, none of which surprised Yasmina. First and most important in Yasmina’s mind was Francesco asked her to marry him, and she said yes. She immediately questioned her choice, thinking things like how she hardly knew the man, and she needed to think, maybe pray about it, and not just let her feelings and desires rule her. She also shrugged. She said yes, so now she had to go through with it. It might not be so bad. It could be good. She looked at Francesco, thought for a second, and decided it could be very good.

Back in the real world, Captain Hazem returned with a hundred men from al-Din’s stables and house. He said more were coming. Al-Din said, “Am I paying all these people?”

“Many are camel drivers for the caravan, and sailors on your ships. You mostly pay the caravan masters and ship captains, and the rest, less. But they mostly bring goods worth more than what you pay, so you make some profit on most of these men.”

Al-Din nodded while al-Rahim set the men to defend the docks, keeping the men of Amalfi and the Vikings in reserve. Captain Frodeson said it was not the way of the Norse to hold back once the fighting started, but al-Rahim came right back at him, Aisha translating. “But for now, you have a viable trading port in Egypt. You don’t want to risk losing that by getting involved in a local trouble unless you have to. If the men of al-Din can hold off whatever palace guards or army Suffar sends, you can pretend you just watched and honestly say you did not get involved.”

“But if they go after our ship, we will defend our ship.”

“Understood.” al-Rahim said as Nasr showed up, the one Yasmina called Sharin’s boyfriend because that was all that was on her mind. He took Yasmina, Aisha, al-Rahim, Ziri, and al-Din to the gate where Harun and al-Asad where waiting. They exchanged several hugs before they all trooped into the garden area. Badroul was waiting for them, and the governor, her father, sat on the bench that Yasmina and Francesco once occupied. He looked impatient.

“Father, just another minute,” Badroul pleaded.

“I have much to do,” the governor said. “Too much to do,” he seemed to be in a daze. “Much to do,” he repeated.

Aisha and Yasmina looked at each other and said the same word. “Enchanted.”

They arrived and Badroul flew into al-Din’s arms. They got lost in each other for a long while. Al-Rahim sent Ziri, Harun, and al-Asad to watch the four corners of the garden, keeping Ziri and himself on the corners facing the palace. Aisha examined the governor and concluded.

“The enchantment is stronger than I can break.”

Yasmina expected as much. She would have to do it, but al-Rahim and the others did not need to know certain things. Long ago, more than four thousand years ago, the ancient Egyptian god Amun and the goddess from the middle east, Ishtar had a son. They named him Amun after his father, and mostly people confused him with his father, but certain people in the know, and the other gods called him Junior, a peculiar twentieth century designation. Thus was the Kairos, always mixing the past and the future, but now the Kairos was Yasmina, and she hated having to ask Junior to intervene.

“I have known you are there my whole life,” Yasmina said to herself. “But my faith is so against graven images and the idolatry of the ancient gods, I never wanted to ask for your help.”

“I understand,” Junior responded in her mind. “But I am not a graven image. I am—you are a living breathing person. What is more, I have no interest in being worshiped, but meanwhile, I can do some things to resolve this problem that you cannot do, particularly with regard to the Jinn, who may have tried to do some good at first. He sent al-Din away rather than simply killing the young man, but now he has reverted to his wicked ways and is abusing the people. The people are all dancing to his tune, wherever his twisted whims lead him. Please, may I?”

Yasmina did not argue.

Medieval 6: K and Y 15 Side Trips, part 2 of 2

M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Kirstie

Kirstie poke softly to the others. “Let’s keep all talk of the Kairos, instant changing into armor and weapons, Danna, Elgar, Mother Greta, and the rest of it, including talk of the New World between us. Remember, we caught Ulfsson in Iceland. Engel Bronson and Bieger don’t need the evidence they are looking for, and it is not that I don’t trust the king, but you never know.”

With nods of agreement, the four stepped to the dock where a delegation waited. Captain Olaf saw the local elders and leaned back. “Thomas,” he called to the man in charge of Olaf’s ship after Wilam. “Best not to let anyone on board until I get back.”

“Sir,” Thomas responded.

They crossed the dock and boarded the king’s ship being expected, though Kirstie being pregnant was not expected. They found the king seated at a table with several men hovering over his shoulders. “Olaf,” the king acknowledged the man, but his eyes never left the woman. Kirstie understood that Olaf the merchant was not only in the business of exceeding expectations, but he was also talented at getting to know people and being known while hopefully leaving those people with a good impression. She remembered Olaf, Wilam, and Brant went first to the king’s town of Kaupang when they came in search of her.

Olaf took the opening to introduce his crew. “Brant Svenson, my Skipari you may remember from our visit to Kaupang. This is Wilam Halfdansson from Northumberland, husband of the lovely Lady Kristina of Strindlos of whom you may have heard some stories.”

“Majesty,” Kirstie curtseyed as well as she could, and smiled.

“You hardly look like the maiden who held off five hundred men on Lindisfarne,” the king quipped.

“I was not exactly in this shape at that time, and dressed a bit differently,” Kirstie admitted. “But despite what you heard, it was closer to three hundred men and all I really did was explain how stupid they were being.”

The king nodded before he said, “Explain.”

“Lord. It occurred to me that Lindisfarne had been sacked several times over the last hundred years. There is not anything remaining. No gold, silver, or jewels of any kind. There is only a strong attachment to the place by the people of Northumbria, which includes Wessex, and the people of Danelaw that have converted to this Christian faith. Any attack on Lindisfarne at this point will be like an attack on the heart of the people. It occurred to me my king does not need to trigger a war with Wessex, which is Saxony, or Danelaw, which is Denmark, or both. But that is what such an attack by Norwegians might do. I explained how stupid the men were being, and fortunately convinced enough to come over to my side to prevent the attack. I only had to kill one man.”

“Stupid,” the king said. “That is exactly what I was thinking when I heard about it. I might have taken Ulf’s head if you did not save me the trouble. But now tell me, how is it a young woman like you got involved in fighting in the first place?”

“My father,” Kirstie answered. “He had no son. He was Arne the Navigator and sailed with Captain Sten Troelsson with Captain Birger and Captain Kerga out of Strindlos under Hakon Grjotgardsson. They fought for you, my father Arne and his two companions Haken and Thorbald.”

The king held up his hand for quiet. He had to think, to remember. “I vaguely recall a Captain Birger out of Trondelag. He was wounded in the battle, but he refused to stop fighting. There were real men in those days. He must be my age now. How is he?”

Kirstie shook her head. “Sadly, he died in the invasion of the Jamts. He fought bravely to the end. Captain Kerga is now Chief in Strindlos. He was wounded in the battle against the Jamts.”

“You were there?”

Kirstie nodded. “They killed my family and I got angry. I was just ten years old, but my father taught be how to shoot a bow and hold a knife and shield. He also taught me how to navigate, which is why I sailed on several trading expeditions, down the Danish coast to Frisia, Normandy, and to Northumbria. In the end, I married a navigator. Wilam Halfdansson.”

Olaf stepped forward and ratted on Wilam. “Wilam is the last son of Halfdan Ragnarsson. He was conceived just before the chief went off to Ireland and got himself killed.”

The king looked closely at Wilam before he spoke. “A fitting husband for the maid of Lindisfarne.” he said, before he had another thought. “You show remarkable courage and sense for a woman, and your husband certainly has the blood in his veins. How would you like me to make him the Jarl of Trondelag?” A man tapped the king on his shoulder, but the king waved him off.

“Oh, no, please, your majesty,” Kirstie spoke right up. “That would involve headaches and trouble such as I cannot imagine. With all due respect, I sometimes feel sorry for you and all the headaches you must put up with. If it is all the same, I have some property, a couple of tenants, a couple of thralls. We hope to raise a family and live a nice, quiet, peaceful life.”

“Like I said, remarkable good sense for a woman. Anyway, I promised to make Sigurd Hakonsson Jarl when he comes of age.”

“And I hope Sigurd and I may one day become friends.”

“I hope that as well. Meanwhile, I fully expect you to stir up some men and ships for the effort against the Geats and Danes. They are taking more and more land which is not theirs to take.”

“Why not make an alliance with the Swedes?” Kirstie asked. “My mother was Swedish. I may have some relatives there I might cultivate and see if they are in a position to support the idea of an alliance.”

The king waved off her idea, but then spoke to the point. “I have considered giving them Jamtaland for their cooperation.”

“Oh, no. Pain though they are, you might save the Jamts for a bigger need. Right now, I know the Swedes have their own complaints against the Geats, and maybe the Danes as well. If presented in the right way, they might ask you to make an alliance with them against their enemies. Let the Swedes know how unhappy you are with the Geats and Danes and how you are thinking you may have to go to war against them. Let them think about it, and they may ask you to ally with them against a common enemy, or at least they might ask if they can join you in the effort.”

The king smiled. “Thank you for the visit,” he said. “Lady Kristina of Strindlos. So you know, I am not disappointed.”

Kirstie curtseyed as well as she could again. “Majesty.” And she hustled the men away from there while the king stood and yelled.

“Why didn’t one of you think of that? Stupid. I’m surrounded by stupid.” He continued to yell in a most colorful way, but Kirstie chose not to listen. Besides, Olaf was already headed toward the town elders. He would trade for the other half of Birdla’s portion and point out they had said they would not be back for two years, but they had a bit this trip if Borgund was interested. This time, the big jerk who wanted everything for nothing was not around, so Olaf managed a fair trade. The elder’s looked like they dare not try to cheat the man right under the king’s nose, and especially since he and the king seemed to be on good relations.

~~~*~~~

Two days later, the ship pulled into Husatadlr where they made a good trade in the past. Kirstie was surprised to see a longship in port. This close to the Trondelag, Kirstie wondered if she might know where the ship hailed from. She felt even more surprised when she found out.

“Liv?”

“You started it,” Liv said. “I’m sailing out of Varnes, but it is the same thing.”

“Not the same,” Kirstie insisted. “I was trained to be a navigator like my father. Your father was a middle rower. No offense, but not something to aspire to.”

“I don’t care about my father,” she said. “Besides, I never row. This is my ship. I captain and all these men work for me.”

Kirstie raised her eyebrows. Liv was not that good looking. “How did you manage that?” Owning a ship was an expensive proposition. Sometimes men had to pool their money to be able to buy a ship.

“That isn’t important,” Liv said. “Now, I have to talk to the chiefs.” she began to walk off, four big men surrounding her like she was some queen or something. “It was good seeing you.”

Olaf had to wait. Brant asked a question as he and Wilam came to her side.

“What was that all about?”

“I’m not sure,” Kirstie said. “But there is something wrong about the whole thing.”

Yrsa spoke up as she joined them, holding Soren’s hand. “I felt it too. Something is not right there.”

Kirstie shrugged. “Liv was always a bit strange, even from the beginning.”

Wilam smiled. “Says the woman who in her own way is the strangest person on earth.”

Kirstie slipped her arm around Wilam’s waist. “So, I know what I am talking about.,” she said, looked him in the eye, and stuck her tongue out at him.

When Olaf finally got a chance to talk to the village elders, even as Liv’s longship sailed off, he found them very different from the time he came before. They looked for every flaw they could find in his tools and even pointed to things that were not necessarily flaws. They offered half of what Olaf expected. He said that was not a good way to do business if they expected him to return. He showed them a crate of glass goblets bound for Strindlos, and some of the bolts of died linen. A couple of the more sensible elders agreed to double the offer if he threw in a few bolts of linen. A deal was struck, but Olaf was not entirely happy.

“Something changed,” he said.

“Liv,” Kirstie answered, but did not explain.

************************

MONDAY

The trouble with success is it breeds high expectations. Kirstie gets roped into raising an army while Yasmina is raising some fighters of her own. Monday. Happy Reading.

*

Medieval 6: K and Y 15 Side Trips, part 1 of 2

M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Kirstie

After many tearful good-byes and promises to return, Kirstie at six months pregnant, Yrsa, and Soren had to ride in the wagon, and as expected, the wagon driver took that opportunity to hit every rock and hole he could find.

Wilam showed Kirstie the goods in the hold. “The crew is going to have a hard time finding places to sleep.” Wilam smiled at her. “The captain has the ship packed about as full as can be, and heavy metal items no less. We will do well not to sink as soon as we leave port. Pray for good weather.”

“I do, every trip,” she said.

Wilam nodded and showed her the bolts of fine linen died in every color, and some with patterns and flowers worked into the cloth. “Captain Olaf picked up this fancy cloth in Flanders last fall before he made a quick trip to gather the apples of Brittany. He stopped in Kent to unload most of the apples for grain and vegetables harvested in the fall, mostly from East Anglia. You know, here in the Northland, we don’t get the harvest they get in the south. People in Bamburgh and in all the towns here don’t have much to go around some winters.”

“Same problem we deal with back home,” Kirstie admitted. “But what about Scotland and the islands, Orkney and Shetland?”

Wilam shook his head. “Scotland is filled with remarkably good soil. They manage to get plenty most years, and all without fertilizer. As for the islands, there are not so many people there. The land is relatively good, and they produce enough to feed themselves most years.”

“I see,” Kirstie answered.

“But look here,” Wilam took her hand. “Half of these goods are for Strindlos, Nidaros. For the rest, the captain sectioned off four areas. Each area has fine farm implements and things for the home and the hearth. He figures on returning to the places along the coast where we stopped last summer. He says you have to follow up if you hope to build a good trading partner.”

“But we go home first, right?” Kirstie asked and put on hand to her belly. I don’t want my baby born aboard ship.

Wilam could only shrug. “You know, Mother said you should stay another year to let the baby be born before you sailed off on some adventure.”

“I know.” Kirstie gave Wilam a kind frown. “Your mother would keep us there until the Lord returned if we let her.” Wilam nodded.

The crossing was easy enough, with good weather and a good wind. Kirstie got seasick on the first day, and every day after for a week. Wilam worried over her. It was cute and annoying at the same time. She said one day she would make the Storyteller write a children’s book about Kirstie, the seasick Viking.

They arrived first in Dinganes, and then had to wait three days for men to be fetched from Gulaping, the place of the Althing. They were anxious to buy, including offering some silver to supplement the furs they collected. They did not have the spring and summer to collect and tan the hides and furs they expected to have since they arrived in mid-April. Captain Olaf could have unloaded his whole half of the ship in that place if the price was right. Everything not designated for Strindlos was an option, and Kirstie was not against that idea of unloading it all if it got her home sooner, but the captain made a deal instead. He let two of the set-aside sections of good go for some real money, then he said he would try to get a second ship for the coming year. He said his friend, Captain Otto, could bring a whole shipload just to Gulaping if they had the desire and funding to trade for that much. He said his friend would be especially interested in good lumber and expect him in May or June of next year, or maybe like now in mid-April if he has a full summer schedule, or maybe July if there are unexpected delays.” He shrugged.

“You sound confident,” one of the elder’s teased, and several laughed.

“I haven’t even asked him yet,” Olaf said with a chuckle of his own. “But if necessary, I’ll rent a ship and send Brant here with a crew of his own.”

The elder who seemed to speak for most of them looked around briefly before he responded. “We will let you work things out as you see fit. We have had a year, and by next June we will have had two years with your equipment. Let me say, if the quality remains as high, you should have no trouble selling all of your goods. Our local smithies cannot produce nearly as high a quality as your material.”

Captain Olaf neglected to tell them most were not produced by local smithies. On the edge of Bamburgh they had a couple of big buildings where men spent full time hours producing the highest-grade steel they could and then pounding it into shape. Kirstie called it a foundry or sometimes a factory. All Olaf knew was after making a hundred plows or so, a man got pretty good at the task.

The next stop up the line was Birdla in Firdir Province. They managed some firs and hides, but not much, so they were only able to buy about half a quarter, being a couple of plows and a few tools. Olaf suggested if there were other villages up the fjord, they might contrive some way to trade for some of their furs and hides and thus have more available to trade. He pointed to the necklace one of the men wore. “Such fine goods as amber, ivory and honey are aways good.”

The town’s people said they would see what they could work out, but please don’t forget them. They would try to always have something worth trading.

Olaf agreed. He would not forget them.

Captain Olaf had to think twice before pulling into Borgund in South Moeri. For one, they reached the month of May and Kirstie was either in her eighth month or about to enter her eighth month. At least she stopped throwing up once she understood she could prevent her sea sickness by eating. Not the best idea, but what else could she do? For two, there seemed to be a large number of ships in the port at that time, but they were already seen, so they felt committed to making the stop.

Their reception last time in Borgund had not been the best. The town chiefs wanted everything for nothing. But they were a good a sized town and they told the elders that they might be back in a year or two. As a good merchant, Olaf knew winning faithful customers depended on meeting and surpassing expectations. He would see what they might find. What they found was not what they expected.

Not only was the king’s double sized longship captained by Engel Bronson with Bieger as his Skipari at the dock, but the king was aboard the ship. Worse than that, six more of the king’s ships were anchored off the shore, and three were reported to be north in Blindheim and another three south in Hallkjelsvik. Apparently, King Harald Fairhair was not satisfied with the taxes paid by the province, or the excuses made to withhold some payments. He wanted to press them on the taxes, but not too hard because he also wanted to raise men to help fight the Danes and Geats where they were encroaching on Norwegian land, as Harald drew the map.

“Last time I came through here Hakon Grjotgardsson brought a thousand ships to my aid from the north and Moeri.” The king ranted a bit. “We turned the enemy on that day. Sadly, my friend, father of my wife, Asa died at the battle of Fjalir. I am beginning to think when he died, he took all the courage from the north with him. Where are the men who will stand up to these Danes. If we don’t stand up, they will take more and more until Norway becomes no more than a Danish province.”

Kirstie could imagine Fairhair’s displeasure as well as his demands. She guessed the locals were backed into an awkward position and feeling uncomfortable. She understood, because she felt backed into a corner herself once the king found out who was on the ship that just arrived. He insisted on meeting the maiden from Lindisfarne.

Kirstie remembered Engel Bronson and Bieger from the day they visited Strindlos, looking for Elgar the Saxon. “They came with Lind and Gruden,” she told Wilam and Brant just to make clear that she was talking about the Masters. “I have to assume Captain Bronson and Beiger are in on it, still looking for the Kairos, me, and still seeking any evidence they can find to point at me as the one they want.”

“I still don’t understand why these Masters want you,” Captain Olaf interrupted.

“To kill her,” Wilam said, bluntly. “She is the only one that stands in the way of their plans, and whatever horrors they have in mind for us all.”

Kirstie continued, “I suspect both Ulf and Ulfsson served the Masters. Ulf knew that at least Yrsa had some connection to the world of the spirits, enough to guide the crews safely to Ellingham, but I don’t recall ever showing him anything where he could make the connection to me. He may have thought it was part of the gifts of the gods, either Fryer or Njord, assuming he heard about those things. If he had evidence that it was anything more, the servants of the Masters would have tried to kill me already.”

“How could he not guess?” Brant asked.

“I am sure he guessed,” Wilam answered. “But he had no proof. Up until Lindisfarne, she appeared to be a good little Viking, willing to kill, steal, and destroy.”

“I temporarily blinded the Masters when I killed Ulf. They did not see Danna or get a clear picture of the Troll. Ulf and Njal saw a man with some giant blood, but he may have come from the monastery, for all they knew. He was dressed like a farmer. Then, we ruined their plans in the New World. Who knows what they had in mind, except they planned to use the hags to intimidate the native population. I am sure Abraxas planned to turn the natives to himself and thus receive an invitation to come back to earth in a land where he otherwise had no connection. I am equally sure the Masters had something more insidious in mind, but we were there to save Mary Katherine and the young women, not an unreasonable quest. We were fortunate in the process to kill whatever plan the Masters might have had. But it was no proof of the Kairos.”

“So, what you are saying is going all that way to the west and to what you call the New World was not just about trying to save the captive women of Ellingham,” Captain Olaf drew his conclusion.

“No,” Kirstie responded and assured the man. “That was the main part, but there was more to it as well. I didn’t say anything because you had your hands full as it was, what with plying unknown waters and making first contact with native people and all.”

“I would rather know,” Captain Olaf said, but he said it kindly.

“Okay,” Kirstie agreed.

Medieval 6: K and Y 14 And Back Again, part 2 of 2

M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Kirstie

When they got to Brant’s house, Soren came running. He gave Wilam a big hug. Kirstie put her hands on her hips and huffed. “He is my son too,” Wilam said, and after a second, Kirstie nodded, and thought that thanks to Wilam, the boy had a family. That was important, and not something Kirstie could give him. She would not mind giving him a baby sister, though. She looked again at Wilam and had all sorts of thoughts.

Soren took Yrsa’s hand as they walked into the house. He wanted to introduce Yrsa to his grandma and grandpa, and his other grandma, and his three uncles, though they kept trying to tell him only two were actual uncles.

“I might as well be invisible,” Kirstie said.

“Not to me.” Wilam slipped his arm around her shoulders.

They went inside, and on sight of Wilam, his mother Wilburg began to cry for Mary Katherine. They sent word, and some of the crew that lived in Lucker certainly spread the news, but seeing her eldest son triggered some serious tears in the woman, and her lifelong friend Eadgyd cried some with her.

Kirstie left Wilam’s protective arm to hug both women. She took Soren and Yrsa out back to check on Birdie and Missus Kettle. The dwarf wives appeared content with their work, but Kirstie knew that was not exactly true.

“You know,” Birdie said. “Now, after a month, with Wilburg’s arm mostly healed, and Eadgyd’s leg healed to where she can get around, I just don’t feel needed anymore.” She sighed a great sigh and looked down at the mud that surrounded the kitchen area.

“Not me,” Missus Kettle the cook said. “I got my hands full feeding four boys and the old man. Wilburg and Eadgyd say they don’t know what they would do without me, or how I manage to cook so much so well. I will say, though, it would help if I had Buckles, my husband here. He is a most excellent hunter and could help supplement these meagre rations I have to work with.”

Kirstie counted. “Hrothgar, Ecgberht, and Godric. Four boys?”

“Soren counts,” she said. “He is getting to be a good little eater.”

Of course. How could she forget her own son? She smiled for him and turned to the dwarf wives. “So, here is what we will do.” She hugged Birdie before she clapped her hands. Birdie went back to Norway, to her husband Booturn and Buckles appeared by his wife.

Buckles shouted for a moment. Missus Kettle hit him on the head with her cooking spook and he spouted, “Oh, it’s you.”

It did not take long to explain the situation, and Buckles said he would be glad to help out. Missus Kettle banged her cooking spoon against the big kettle on the fire and all three boys showed up. She had them well trained. “Hrothgar, Ecgberht, and Godric. This is Buckles. He is an excellent hunter and trapper, and he will teach you, if you want to learn.”

“What happened to Birdie?” Ecgberht asked.

“She had to go home,” Kirstie answered.

“We didn’t even get to say goodbye?” Godric whined.

“I am sure she will miss you too,” Kirstie said. “But now, you need to listen to Buckles here. He is Missus Kettle’s husband and will help keep the food on the fire.”

“Good thing,” Hrothgar said. “With Father Espen and his bad knee, we could use the help. Our supplies are running a bit thin.”

“Buckles will also go with you when it is time to harvest the crops on Espen’s farm, maybe in a month or so. That should help see us through the winter.”

“Some for God, some for the tax, some to eat, and some to sell is what I always try to get from my farm,” Espen said as he hobbled outside to take a seat by the fire. “Don’t know how I’m going to be able to plant again in the spring. I don’t know.”

Kirstie quickly introduced Buckles, and Buckles spoke. “The lady has asked me to help and that is what I intend to do. We will work out the spring in the spring. First, we got a fall harvest to plan, and then the winter meat to feed this lot.” He sounded very reassuring and did not have a single complaint about having so much work to do. It was very un-dwarf-like. “I hope you don’t mind if I teach your sons a thing or two about the hunt.”

Espen slowly nodded as Buckles smiled. “I would appreciate that very much,” Espen said, and almost went to tears as he thought with his busted knee, he might never be able to teach his sons as a good father should. Ecgberht, at seventeen, had the basics, but Godric at fourteen hardly learned how to string his bow and properly hold his spear.

Wilam and Brant came to the back door, and Brant said, “We need to do it.”

“Do what?” Kirstie asked.

“We are packing everyone up and moving back to the farm,” Wilam said.

“Now that the immediate threat of Vikings is over, the farm has food to harvest for the winter and plenty of trees nearby for firewood and to hunt,” Brant said.

“Not to mention the farmhouse has more room, and the Barn is big and can be fixed up for living quarters,” Wilam added.

“I don’t know where the animals might be,” Espen interrupted. “Probably taken by the neighbors or stolen.”

Wilam and Kirstie both looked at Yrsa and she opened up. “I asked Lord Marsham. Lupen and Flora, a very nice couple volunteered to watch the farm over this last month. They are very good with the animals.”

“Couple of skinny doodles.” Buckles shrugged like he did not mind too much. “No offence, Princess,” he added for Yrsa.

Kirstie just stared at Yrsa until Yrsa defended herself. “Lady. Alm and I have been overseeing your farm for years now. We have gotten very good at knowing who will enjoy the work and do a good job. Lupen and Flora have even gotten a few local gnomes to help. Everything will be in good shape when we arrive.”

Kirstie nodded as Soren finally climbed up into her lap and gave her a hug. “We are going back to the farm,” she told him.

“Are we going home?” Soren asked. He sounded a little homesick, but also like he did not want to lose his grandparents and uncles. Kirstie just hugged him back.

It took three days to close up the house in Lucker and move everyone to Ellingham. The neighbors were glad to see them, and welcomed Brant, Hrothgar, and Eadgyd as family. Most already knew Brant. It took another week to get settled in, but then the routine of plain old farm work took over and kept them busy enough.

Kirstie imagined she became pregnant in September. She felt certain in October, but she did not say anything until November, after the harvest. Wilam got excited like a child at Christmas. Kirstie just smiled a lot. She figured she would deliver either June fifteenth or July fifteenth, although last time, Inga calculated her due date as March fifteenth and Soren was born on the sixth, so maybe she delivered a week early. July fifteenth was most likely, but she would not mind June. She should be home well before then, she imagined.

The fall went by fast, and the winter dragged, as winters do. As much as Soren loved his grandparents and uncles, he got terribly bored and ready to go home by his birthday on the sixth of March. Brant and Wilam set things up in the fall. Despite the Viking raid, the smithies kept their forges hot and produced some fine goods for trade. In March, they only had to collect it all and get it to Captain Olaf in Bamburgh.

Medieval 6: K and Y 14 And Back Again, part 1 of 2

M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Kirstie

Kirstie and the officers with three Algonquin chiefs and Anenak the giant spied on the enemy from behind the trees. The fortified position was not well made and hardly finished, but it would already be a help to the defenders.

“They have their back to the lake,” Brant said, and Wilam asked a serious question.

“If fire and then water is a danger to the hags, why are they close to the lake? The hags you told me about were by the docks, the river, and the sea. I would think that would be dangerous for them.”

“Kirstie nodded and tried to explain. “They are in a tough situation. Fire and water don’t mix, but their god, so-called, Abraxas, is made up of these two elements. Being near the water lets them draw on the water for strength. They would be weak and much less frightening in a desert where little water is available. They draw also from the fires, campfires, cooking fires and so on, but they must keep things in the right order and in proportion, and especially keep the two elements separated. When the hag is actually set on fire, it is too much all at once. They appear to grow stronger, but when the water puts their fire out all at once, it breaks something on the inside. Think of a bow. When you draw the string in the right way and to the right distance, you can fire the weapon, arrow after arrow. But if you draw too hard and suddenly, at first it looks like you will send your arrow farther than normal, but one tug further and you will break the weapon and make the whole thing useless.

“I guess. Sort of,” Wilam suggested he understood even if he didn’t.

Captain Olaf stepped up to Kirstie and interrupted. No sign of the hag or the other women. They must be in the tents. But Anenak, Chestnut, and we are all agreed, the only way to get at them is to charge across the field, unless you have a better idea.

Kirstie considered having Anenak throw rocks which would be like mini boulders at them, but it was probably too far even for him. She considered asking her elves to go invisible and sneak up on them, but the hag would know. She dreaded the casualties. Ulfsson’s crew would not go far from their bows. She felt sure there should be a better way, but she could not think of it. She shook her head, sadly and spoke softly.

“Have the men keep one hand on their weapon and carry some bushes and branches in the other hand in front of them, and wave them as they run. It should confuse the enemy as to where exactly the people are and they might not shoot as many as otherwise,” she said. “And maybe the branches will deflect an arrow or two. Other than that, I got nothing.”

“Better than nothing,” Wilam said and hugged her. Kirstie worried about him. It had been nearly three days since the last time he moaned that Mary Katherine was the hag.

When they were nearly ready, someone pointed out that some would like to carry their own bows and arrows for when they arrived. Kirstie said they had to follow the men with the bushes. Then they were ready, and Kirstie had to say “Go.” She felt sure the hag would sense their charge and have her men ready. Sadly, she was right.

Despite the bushes to distract and confuse the enemy, any number of men fell to arrows in the charge. Even so, they broke through the half-finished fortification on the order of three to one. Ulfsson’s crew was not that big, and the enchanted converts were not many after only two days, and they did not fight well in any case. The whole battle got to be messy as natives and Vikings fought on both sides, and some could not tell friend from foe. Yrsa and Chestnut’s people had their hands full keeping the friendlies from killing each other.

Wilam jumped in front of Kirstie to face Ulfsson, but Kirstie turned and faced Njal the giant, who did not appear so big compared to Anenak, the twelve-footer. Brant, who kept an eye on her stepped in to help, and together they took down the big man.

Everything paused when the hag showed up. She came from the tent and said, “I will have my husband back.” She got followed by five more hags. All of the young women had been converted. Some men screamed, and the women laughed. Kirstie might have screamed, but she got distracted by the face of a fire sprite in the campfire. New world, new rules, she thought. “Flame them,” she whispered, and the flames from all six fires around the camp vacated the wood and attached themselves to the hags. Kirstie fully expected the hags to grow in power and appearance and she desperately tried to figure out how to knock them into the lake which was right behind them. But what happened surprised her and everyone else.

The hags began to merge into one another and as they grew, they roared like a half dozen lions roaring all at once. They became one big hag, almost as tall as the twelve-foot giant, and they looked much stronger. Sadly, Kirstie did not have the time to shout “No!” Anenak flew at the hag, but unlike Vortesvin years ago in Nidaros, Anenak did not duck. The hag grabbed the giant’s head between her hands and snapped the head right off at the neck. But Anenak’s forward motion was enough to knock the hag into the lake. Six screams followed. The hags separated again, and six young women melted. Whatever remained would eventually sink to the bottom. Kirstie remembered her friend Yazu and cried for the giant. She cried for the men who died. She cried for Wilam’s sister whom she never met. It would be a while before she stopped crying.

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Kirstie finally had to stop crying long enough to let Mother Greta work on the wounded and save who she could. Kirstie discovered some Iroquois speakers had escaped the hags by seeking refuge with the giant despite the fact that it meant being surrounded by Algonquin speakers, their traditional enemies. Now that the trouble was over, they decided to head back to the great lakes region and abandon the island at the river’s end. They said it was too dangerous, but they did steal some metal tipped arrows and a couple of Viking spears. Who knew where those metal artifacts would end up. Probably upper New York near the lakes.

With that, Kirstie realized she had to put her foot down. The native Algonquin speakers, the Lenape or Manhattan, or whatever history ended up calling this particular tribe might remember the story about the white men and the monster they would probably refer to as a wendigo, but it would not be believed by the oncoming white men in the future any more than the stories about the giants. The Vikings, however, needed a good talking to.

Kirstie considered asking Nameless to wipe some memories once they sailed back to Europe. The ancient gods did that sometimes in the deep past to keep the various cultures and civilizations from bleeding into each other too much, or to keep certain information secret for the time being. That television show, Ancient Aliens would not be nearly so successful if the aliens were a well-documented historical fact. Rumor and inuendo was fine, but some memories got wiped in ancient days.

In the end, she gathered the survivors and put her foot down. It did occur to her once again that the sons or daughters of these men, or maybe the grandchildren might have some stories to inspire the likes of Eric the Red or Leif Ericson in the decades to come. They were only about seventy or eighty years early here. The men mostly listened.

They had thirty-three men to sail Captain Olaf’s ship, and they carried the nineteen wounded that Kirstie hoped would live. They did have a couple of burials at sea. Another twenty men sailed Ulfsson’s Viking longship, which meant both ships had about half the normal crew. It was enough to get them back to Iceland and the Faroe Islands. Splitting the distance between the Shetland and Orkney Islands, they soon reached Aberdeen and finally made port once again in Bamburgh.

Captain Otto, who managed to break his other arm so he now had both arms wrapped up tight, inherited the longship until he could build a new ship of his own. He said that would be fine for the present since he had no plans to go out until next spring.

Captain Olaf said his ship had a good workout but now he needed to pull it up into drydock and give it a good going over. They reached September, so he was a month behind and would probably have to cut his fall trip short to get home before the dead of winter. Kirstie apologized for taking so much of his time. He just smiled for her.

“Worth it,” he said.

It took another week before they could go home. They had to report an amended version of their adventures to King Eadwulf II. No surprise that he knew Captain Olaf who told the tale. Olaf was not exactly clear where they caught the last longship. They said Scandinavian land and left it at that. Sadly, the kidnapped young women all died.

“It would have been a better report if I would have said we rescued them all.” Olaf shook his head and looked sad.

The king agreed, but his eyes went to Kirstie. She accompanied Wilam, Brant, and Olaf into the king’s chamber. She came in her blue dress to look presentable and hoped she did not have to retrieve her armor, maybe ever again, God willing.

Captain Olaf took that moment of distraction to introduce his companions. “My Skipari, Brant Svenson. My navigator, Wilam Halfdanson, and his wife, the Lady Kristina of Strindlos.

“Kristina?” The king wrinkled his brow and asked, “Where is Strindlos?”

“Majesty,” Kirstie curtsied and thought maybe she did it well for once. “Strindlos in in the great fjord of Trondelag, in Norway. I am one of those terrible Vikings you have heard about.”

The king looked surprised but had another question. “Are all Norse women as tall and blonde as you?”

“No, your majesty,” Kirstie said and smiled. “Some are short and dark. Like elsewhere, we come in all shapes and sizes.”

“Lady Kristina was the maiden who saved Lindisfarne from the Viking horde.” Captain Olaf said to Kirstie’s embarrassment. Several men who were standing around looking bored perked up at that bit of information.

“Yes. You said you found her.”

“Found her and married her,” Wilam said.

“A lovely wife,” the king said. “But somehow, I can’t picture her fighting off four hundred men at arms.”

Kirstie looked at Wilam, Brant, and especially Captain Olaf with a look that said they should keep their mouths shut. “I was wearing different clothes at the time. I wore my armor and had my battleaxe and shield, and my sword at my side. You have to imagine it.”

The king squinted at her but shrugged. “Lovely wife, though,” he said, and stepped back to his throne where he sat, an indication that the interview was over.

“Majesty.” The men bowed and Kirstie tried her curtsey again but did not do it nearly as well since she was mad about being ratted out, as she saw it.

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MONDAY

Home to Soren and after a time, home to Strindlos assuming all is well, like, since when did that ever happen? Monday. Happy Reading

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