The Unjust King

August 27, 2024June 30, 2024M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Once there was a young man and a young woman who married. Their families were good, hard working people and managed to set them up with a plot of land, a nice little home, a rickety old wagon and a small flock of sheep. The couple thought little about the future because they were in their twenties, but they worked hard to grow grain and tend their sheep, and in due season they preserved what food they could and sheered the sheep to card and spin the wool to make cloth. And they were happy.

After ten years, the couple got a brand-new wagon to replace the rickety old one and they rode to town. On the edge of town, they met a young mother with a red headed baby girl. “You must work hard for the sake of your child,” the wife said.

The young mother responded. “I care nothing about material things, and I will not waste my life working for them. I am free to do as I please. But say, I have no wagon. Give me yours.”

The King decided and spoke to the couple. “You have land for food and a nice home and a small flock of sheep for cloth. This young mother has no such things. What is more, you have a second wagon. Everyone is entitled to a wagon.” So, he took the new wagon from the couple and gave it to the young mother because she had none.

The couple walked sadly into town where they saw the physician and were told they would not be able to have children. They cried, and the wife first thought about tomorrow. “What will we do without children when the cold winds of age take us?” The husband had no answer. They walked home that day and they were very unhappy because now they were in their thirties and had saved little for the future.

So, they worked extra hard to grow grain and tend their sheep, and in due season they preserved what food they could and sheered the sheep to card and spin the wool to make cloth.

After ten years, the husband had an idea. “Let us take all the food we have preserved though our marriage and sell it in town. We can buy a second piece of land and while we are still young, we can grow twice what we grow and preserve it all. In the future we can sell the land back to another and have plenty to see us through the cold winds of age.” So, they loaded up their preserves in their rickety old wagon and rode to town.

On the edge of town, they were stopped by the mother and her red headed daughter. She said, “I care nothing for material things and will not waste my life working for them. I am free to do as I please. But say, I have no food. Give me some of your preserves.”

The King decided and spoke to the couple. “You have land for food and a nice home and a small flock of sheep for cloth. This mother has none of those things. She has only a wagon. But everyone is entitled to food.” So, he took half of the preserves from the couple and gave it to the mother and her red headed daughter because they had none.

The couple rode sadly into town where they saw the land dealer. They bought some land with what they had left. They could not buy very much land or very good land, but it was all they could afford. And the wife thought more about the future. “This poor land will have to be cleared and worked hard before it can be planted. That may take a long time. Who will do it?”

The husband answered. “I will do it in my spare time while I am still young enough to do it.” They rode home that day hopeful, because though they were in their forties and now had their own aging parents to care for, they still had hope for the future.”

So, they worked extra-extra hard to grow grain and tend their sheep, and in due season they preserved what food they could and sheered the sheep to card and spin the wool to make cloth. In their spare time, after tending to their parents, the husband and wife cleared their second land and readied it to plant.

After ten years, the land was ready. And though they no longer had to worry about their parents, they were both worn out. “Who will plant this second field now?” the wife asked.

“I no longer have the strength to plant and maintain two fields,” the husband confessed. “But I have had another thought. Let us take the cloth we have made through our marriage and sell it in town. We can buy all we need to build a second house on the second land. Then we can find a young couple in need and let them live in the second house for the promise of helping us in our age. We can become like a family. We can be like their parents and they can be like our children.” So, they loaded up the cloth in their very rickety old wagon and rode to town.

On the edge of town, they were stopped by the mother and her full grown red headed daughter. She said, “I care nothing for material things and will not waste my life working for them. I am free to do as I please. But say, I have no cloth to replace the rags we wear. Give me some of your cloth.”

The King decided and spoke to the couple. “You have land for food and a nice home and a small flock of sheep for cloth. This mother and her daughter have none of those things. They only have a wagon and a bit of food. But everyone is entitled to cloth.” So, he took half of the cloth from the couple and gave it to the mother and her red headed daughter because they had none.

The couple rode quietly into town where they saw the home builders. They bought some lumber and nails with what they had left. It would not be a very big house, but it was all they could afford. And the wife thought more about the future. “We had to spend all we had on the material for the house. Now we have nothing left to hire laborers. Who will build our second house?”

The husband answered. “I will do it in my spare time before I am too old to do it.” They rode home that day still and quiet, because they were in their fifties and thinking the time of their old age drawing near.”

Still, they worked extra hard to grow grain and tend their sheep, and in due season they preserved what food they could and sheered the sheep to card and spin the wool to make cloth. In their spare time, husband and wife worked on their second house to make it as good as they could.

After ten years, the house got finished and they began to look for a suitable couple. They walked to town because their very rickety old wagon had finally gone to dust. On the edge of town, they were stopped by the woman and her red headed daughter who now had a baby girl of her own. The daughter with the red hair spoke.

“I care nothing about material things and will not waste my life working for them. I am free to do as I please. But say, I have heard that you now have two houses. I have nowhere to shelter my mother and daughter. Give me one of your houses.”

The King decided. “You have land for food and a nice home and a small flock of sheep for cloth. This mother and her daughter and granddaughter have none of those things. They only have a wagon and a bit of food and a bit of cloth. But everyone is entitled to shelter.” So he took the second house and the second land from the couple and gave it to the mother and her red headed daughter and granddaughter because they had none.

The couple went home in despair, because now they were in their sixties and had the aches in the joints and pains everywhere and no longer had the strength of their youth. “What will we do now?” the wife asked. The husband had no answer.

Even so, they worked hard to grow grain and tend their sheep, and in due season they preserved what food they could and sheered the sheep to card and spin the wool to make cloth for as long as they could.

After ten years, the time came for taxes. By then the couple had consumed or sold all of their preserves, all of the sheep, all of their cloth and the field lay fallow. They were in their seventies. But because they could not pay their taxes, the King took their land and nice house. He put a young couple in the house and told them, “The red headed mother in the second house cannot work because she must care for her aging mother and young girl. Therefore, you must give them half of what you grow. Everyone is entitled to help when they need it.” And the young couple did not complain because they did not know any better.

As for the old couple, they went to the street and died ragged, homeless, and hungry in the cold winds of age.

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Tomorrow (Wednesday) The third politically incorrect story The Last American. don’t miss it.

Beginning on MONDAY September 2, The second part of the stories of Kirstie, the Viking Shield Maiden and Yasmina, Princess of the Hejaz in the Kairos Medieval book 6 Before Sunrise. Enjoy.

Right Now: you can look up my author name M. G. Kizzia at your favorite retailer or follow the links below and find all of my ebooks reasonably priced. Reviews are appreciated and Happy Reading.

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The Three Raids of Summer

August 26, 2024June 30, 2024M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Mister Elmer Mot had a problem with ants. It seemed to him he had a problem with most things since Mildred died, but at the moment, he had ants on the porch. He walked up and down the creaking wooden planks, a can of ant killer in his hand, and sprayed every crawling pest he could find. The nest had to be somewhere under the porch, but presently he felt too old and decrepit to crawl down there and do the job properly, so he sprayed and sprayed until the wood got soaked and the can became empty. And it is only June, he thought.

Elmer looked up at the sky and the early morning, rising sun. He always got up early when he worked, but now that he had retired, he imagined he might sleep in. It did not work out that way. He told himself he woke with the sun because that had been his habit for so many years, but the truth was he did not sleep well since he lost Mildred. He and Mildred barely spoke over the last ten years, but he missed her all the same.

Elmer sat heavily in a chair after he brushed it clean of dead ants and he watched the sun rise. He also watched the two cars pull up quietly in front of the Cape Cod house that sat a bit down the street to his left—in the direction of the rising sun. He leaned forward and looked toward the end of the street where it met highway 115. He squinted against the sun, but he saw the two police cars there, clearly parked, looking like lions at rest. He supposed he had not noticed them before because he got busy with the ants. Then again, it did not look to him that they were doing anything in particular.

Elmer sometimes saw two police cars parked side by side in the bank parking lot next to the supermarket. But those officers usually rested window to window and carried on a lively conversation. These two cars were bumper to bumper like they were waiting for a speeder to roar by on 115, or at least waiting for something.

His eyes got drawn back to the Cape Cod when he saw the people exit the cars on the street. There were six of them and three disappeared down the sides of the house. The other three headed for the front door, a woman in a black suit out front followed by two men who were also in suits. Elmer simply watched. He knew it should be none of his business, but he watched all the same.

A man came to the front door and they barely had time for a hello before the front door slammed shut. The two men pushed in front of the woman and pushed the door back open. They ran into the house. Elmer still watched, though there was nothing to see.

After a moment he heard a man’s voice, yelling. Elmer could not make out the words, but it sounded like angry yelling and then something like pleading. The police cars moved and pulled up to the house parked by the curb, facing the wrong way on the street.

“Daddy!” Elmer heard that scream, clearly. It sounded like a little girl being trapped in a corner. He watched a plain looking woman get out of the back of one of the police cars. The officers got out with her, and then, sure enough, the black suited woman came out of the house, a child in her hands. The woman in the yard rushed forward, but stopped short and went to her knees, her arms outstretched. The black suited woman put the child down and the child ran into the woman’s arms. Her mother, Elmer thought.

A moment later, a man got brought out of the house by the two men in suits. He walked in handcuffs and got handed over to one police officer who shoved him rudely into the back of one of the police cars. Elmer shook his head and stood as well as his old knees allowed. He saw a few ants on the side table when he picked up his empty spray can. He felt tempted to hit the ants with the can, but he knew that would not be wise.

Elmer paused at his front door. He wondered why people can’t be happy with what they have. Heck, he and Mildred did not much like each other those last ten years or so, but he still missed her.

~~~*~~~

It was late July and the battle on the porch had turned from ants to flies. Elmer drove slowly out of the supermarket parking lot and made his way down 115 toward home. He had a brand-new flyswatter and got anxious to try it out. When he reached his driveway, he saw the police, this time at the little ranch house directly across the street, the house that always smelled like rotten eggs. He wondered what it might be all about, and briefly wondered if he would be able to get into his driveway. He turned on his blinker, and a policeman waved him through.

While he sat in his car to let his knees rest, he watched the police surround the house. It looked like the swat team, or something like that. They even had a police van. Several officers walked up to the front door and banged on the wood. They must have knocked with a club because Elmer heard the sharp raps, even with his car windows rolled up.

Elmer got out of the car as his knees allowed. He wanted a better look than he got in his rear-view mirror. He went straight up to the porch with his new flyswatter and remarked softly that of course there were no flies present. But that felt okay, because he had his eyes on the house across the street.

The police busted in the front door and at the same time, Elmer heard a gunshot. He knew that sound from the war, and there were three more shots in response. Then everything got quiet for a time, and the officers outside began to shuffle around like they did not have the patience to stand still.

Finally, a young man and a young woman were brought out if cuffs. The police also brought out several gallon zip bags with white powder, and Elmer understood it as drugs. He briefly wondered why people wanted to hurt others with things like drugs. He stood and turned toward his house. Maybe he and Mildred did not like each other much those last ten years, but they never went out of their way to hurt each other.

Elmer left the flyswatter on the side table because if he put it away somewhere in the house, he knew he would never find it again. He turned his head for one last look at the ranch across the street as he heard the sound of the ambulance off in the distance. He shook his head.

The political season started heating up and Elmer dreaded the commercials. They were escalating to nasty levels, but he thought he might see if he could find an old movie on the television. He decided to find a good, old tear-jerker. He did not like those kinds of movies much, but Mildred liked them.

~~~*~~~

Come the end of August, Elmer heard a big commotion outside his kitchen window just before sundown. The world by then had turned from flies to mosquitoes, but they did not bother him much. He imagined his old, leathery skin was not very appetizing.

When Elmer stepped out on his front porch, he saw the street filled with cars. The people from all those cars appeared to be focused on the big old Victorian on the corner, in the direction of the setting sun. Men and women had all sorts of guns and equipment and were hunkered down behind the cars, like soldiers expecting a firefight. Some of the men and women wore black vests that sported FBI in big white letters on the back. Elmer remembered the war and recognized that this had to be a major operation.

The people moved quickly as soon as the helicopter came overhead. Elmer saw a number of his neighbors who lived around the Victorian. They were in the street, behind a rope, and staring as intently as he stared. Doors on the first floor of the Victorian got broken down, windows got smashed, and then something happened that made Elmer’s old heart skip a beat. The Victorian exploded, and FBI people got thrown in every direction.

Elmer ducked, though it did not appear to be a big explosion. The house collapsed, and the houses on either side got plenty of splinters, but that seemed about it. The FBI, of course, ducked behind their cars and went running even before the dust cleared.

Elmer saw the fire engine roar up from 115, followed by the ambulance and the television news truck, and he hurried back inside. He would not answer the doorbell if it rang. He did not want to be on the TV news, and besides, he could watch well enough from his kitchen window, whatever there was to see.

Terrorists, he found out later, once he had a chance to sit in his chair and turn on the news. First, he had cleaned and put away the dishes, and wiped the counters just the way Mildred liked. Then he sat and gave his knees a well-deserved rest.

It turned out to be a terrorist cell, and curiously three of four alleged terrorists survived the explosion. Elmer wondered why they called them alleged. And he wondered why do some people feel the need to kill other people? What can be that important? Why do people want to hurt others? Why can’t people just be happy with what they have?

A political commercial came on and Elmer made up his mind. He would vote for the person who promised he could live whatever days remained to him in peace and quiet. Mildred would want peace and quiet too.

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One brief note:

Beginning on MONDAY September second we will continue with the Kairos Medieval stories, Book 6 Before Sunrise. The book starts with the second part of the stories of Kirstie (and Yasmina) before the story of Don Giovanni… Meanwhile:

Avalon, the prequel, the pilot Episode, and the first six written seasons are available for purchase at your favorite e-book retailer. the final 3 sesons (7, 8, and 9) will be out soon. look for M. G. Kizzia or follow the links below find all of my available books.

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Please remember, reviews are always appreciated. Thank you and Happy Reading

Medieval 5: K and Y 20 Misdirection, part 3 of 3

August 21, 2024June 29, 2024M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Kirstie

Kirstie cleaned her sword on the spring grass before she sent it home to Avalon. She checked her shield and battleaxe. The shield was beat up but repairable. The axe was in good shape but would need sharpening. She sent them and the sheath for the sword to Avalon as well. She found Excalibur on Avalon in her mind’s eye. It was the sword made in ancient days for the young Diogenes of Pella and used so well by Arthur. She called it to sit at her back. It felt a bit heavy, but it was what she had. Then she looked up.

Half of the men had crossed the field and come to stand on Kirstie’s side of the field. She saw Rune and Jarl, Bo Erikson, and one of the captains she did not know well They all brought their crews to her side. Gunhild waved to her. She looked back and saw Toke start across the field. She heard Harrold yell.

“Where do you think you are going?”

Toke answered in a very flat voice hardly loud enough for Kirstie to hear. “I can see how this is going. I don’t want to be on the losing side.”

Most of Harrold’s crew from Strindlos followed Toke. After all, Kirstie was one of theirs, and for some, a good friend and neighbor. The rest followed Harrold when he stomped across the field swearing loudly most of the way. He paused long enough to point a finger at Kirstie and yell. “Don’t think you are getting away with this.”

Odger said nothing. He took his crew down the bank to the sea, boarded his ship and set sail. After a few minutes, the other captain that Kirstie did not know well did the same thing. Finally, Ulf’s crew, being the last crew on that side of the field, followed.

The men that came to join Kirstie seemed happy, most of them, that at least they would not have to fight anyone, but Kirstie had a thought and raised her voice. “The tide will go out soon and there is an army waiting to cross the bridge. We need to be gone before they get here.”

Rune and Jarl started it. Soon, all the men were headed back to their ships. They generally waved and smiled for Kirstie, not wanting to get too close to the giant. Frode braved it, and Gunhild. They hugged Kirstie. Thoren and Kare stopped out of Vortsvin’s reach, and Kare yelled at her. She ruined everything. She yelled back for a minute before she pointed out that he should at least be happy that she is still alive. He did not listen, so neither did she.

Thoren interrupted when they seemed to run out of thing to say. “We need to go.”

Kirstie looked at him and said, “I’ll catch up.”

Thoren tapped Kare on the shoulder, and Kare turned to follow his friend, apparently thinking deep thoughts.

Kirstie saw Yrsa caught up with her, and Father McAndrews stopped to talk to the giant. Vortesvin had his hat in his hands and kept calling the priest “Your Holiness.” Kirstie thought it best to interrupt.

“Vortesvin,” she called.

“Yes, Lady. Excuse me.” Vortesvin stepped to Kirstie who shook her right hand to get the circulation back in the hand, and she moaned a bit as her shoulders and back were going to ache with her legs, or for that matter, all of her. She figured for the moment the adrenaline was still pumping.

Kirstie spoke softly. “Thank you for being here and keeping me safe. You need to go home now. Tell Fiona and the boys I will be home as soon as I can and tell the same to Inga if you see her.” She patted the troll on the shoulder, about as high as she could reach, and Vortesvin disappeared. Immediately, Abraxas appeared in a flash of light.

“You cheat,” he said, almost before he became fully manifest. “What?” he added when he saw the look on her face. Kirstie just killed a man. She was in no mood to kill again, or even deal with this monster. She traded places with Danna, the mother goddess of the Celtic gods on whose land they stood. Abraxas flinched, but he did not run away, not that he could have gotten away. Danna suspected he had something in mind, but she could only deal with that when it happened.

“Morrigu, your mother, and Janus, your father are both waiting for you on the other side,” Danna said.

“How do you know what is on the other side?” Abraxas complained, sounding a bit like a child.

“Boys,” Danna called. Gwyn came from his hermitage in Tara and Manannan came from the sea. They appeared on either side of Abraxas where they could hold him in check. Danna already glued Abraxas’ feet to the earth so he could not escape. It did not take long to figure out what she would do. “I banish you from my islands, so now you are banished from all the earth. Anywhere you set your feet on the ground, or the waters will be death for you.”

“What about these two,” he complained. “Why are they still here?”

“My disobedient children are not your concern,” Danna answered. “But let me say that they are not trying to turn the human race to worship them. They are not trying to build a new dynasty of gods. They are not making hags to threaten and terrify the people. You don’t seem to understand that the day of the gods is over. The old way is gone, and the new way has come. I trust they will go over to the other side in due time. I do not trust you. I have given you three chances to do the right thing, and three times you have failed.”

“Who made you the decider of all things?” He sounded bitter.

“The source through the council of all the ancient gods gave me the responsibility to watch over history, and you are seriously messing it up. So, now you no longer have a place in Europe, North Africa, or the Middle East, and there is nowhere else on this earth that you have a claim. Even so, I will not take your life. You can wander through the Second Heavens until you find the courage to do what you should have done ages ago. Visit the ruins of Olympus, the land of your father. Visit the broken-down halls of Aesgard, the land of your mother. Only, do not return to the earth under penalty of death. It is so,” she said and waved her hand, and Abraxas vanished.

“Mother,” Manannan nodded to her and vanished.

“Mother.” Gwyn stepped up and gave her a hug.

“Is this a touch of gray hair I see? Are you eating right and getting enough sleep?”

“Mother, the daughters of Macreedy are sticklers about such things and after these last few hundred years, I can’t fool them like I used to.” He sighed.

Danna asked, “When?” She touched Gwyn’s radiant cheek before she let him go.

Gwyn backed up. “As you said. In due time.” he vanished, and Danna let Kirstie come back, aching muscles and all, and she spoke right away. “I question the wisdom of that. I may regret letting Abraxas live. He submitted to his judgement too easily. He must have something up his sleeve. He presented himself for judgement.”

“One day, when the trumpet sounds, we will all present ourselves for judgment.” Father McAndrews stepped to Kirstie’s side with his eyes still focused on where the ancient gods stood. “The god of the sea and the bright and shining Gwyn ap Nudd.”

“That was one of his names,” Kirstie nodded.

“And the one who called himself the god of fire and water.”

“Abraxas.”

“And you are Gentle Annie, Anu, the mother of the gods?”

“I was once, but that was ages and ages ago. In this life and this world, I am a mere mortal girl, or woman.”

“One gifted beyond what you deserve.” Father McAndrews smiled for her and handed her a little gold cross on a metal chain. “To replace your little wooden one.”

Kirstie nodded and hugged the man. “You know I won’t be allowed to keep this. Captain Harrold will steal it as compensation for making him miss the treasures of Lindisfarne.”

“But this is not from Lindisfarne. You can tell him. It was my mother’s.”

Kirstie looked at the cross while Yrsa spoke. “Good thing it is not bigger. More gold would tempt Captain Harrold to turn around and come right back here looking for more.”

One of the monks who inched up in Father McAndrew’s tail spoke. “The only treasure we have at Lindisfarne is the Gospel of Jesus Christ.”

“And that is the finest treasure in all the universe, only my people don’t know it,” Kirstie said, and slipped the cross and chain into a small purse she had hidden inside her armor where it looked indistinguishable from the rest of her outfit.

Father McAndrews hugged Yrsa and returned Kirstie’s hug. “We all have our divinely appointed path to follow. I can see that yours is a hard one, but all the same, I would say you are a fine young woman.”

“And one who must go,” Kirstie said. “But you must visit my home. We are in need of the good news of salvation. We need to hear about God and the forgiveness in Jesus. Come to the great fjord in Trondelag, and my home Strindlos. Kerga is Chief. Bring him a gift. It is tradition. Mother Vrya is the Volva, a healer, storyteller, and sage whose advice is sought by chiefs from all around the fjord. Mother Vrya. Chief Kerga. Strindlos. I will look for you.”

Kirstie was ready to go, but Yrsa added a complication. “Look for Wilam of Ellingham. He is a navigator and Brant Svenson is the skipari. They sail with the merchant Captain Olaf out of Bamburgh. They may be willing to brave the Norwegian shore. In fact, you may find Wilam with the men of Ross even now sailing to the island. Despite moving in the early hours before dawn, our longships were seen. Good thing Lady Kirstie convinced our people to leave. Otherwise, this holy island would have become a battleground. Wilam of Ellingham. Brant Svenson. Captain Olaf out of Bamburgh.”

“Go with God,” Kirstie started walking. She wanted to yell at Yrsa, but she could not get the words passed her smile that came from thinking about it.

END

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MONDAY – TUESDAY – and WEDNESDAY

A brief respite: three short stories that are all wonderfully politically incorrect. Of course, in this current cultural climate that makes the stories unmarketable, but they are worth reading. I hope you enjoy them and Happy Reading

Medieval 5: K and Y 20 Misdirection, part 2 of 3

August 20, 2024June 29, 2024M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Yasmina

Yasmina shivered. The killing of Captain Ulf was not something she wanted to dwell on, but it was something she pictured over and over. She could not help it. She looked at the pirate captain and shivered some more.

It had been a hard journey. Yasmina thought once they got to sea, she might better understand why Kirstie enjoyed sailing so much. Instead, she got seasick and stayed queasy the whole trip. If any of the pirates had in mind to take advantage of her, her sickness dissuaded them.

When they went ashore, surrounded by pirates, Yasmina continued to feel like she was swaying for a short while. Aisha took her arm and that helped some. Yasmina could not help the comment on her companion’s appearance. “You look all motherly.”

“I feel like my cousin, Kirstie’s friend. Motherly, but ready to fight like a she bear to defend you and keep you safe.”

Al-Rahim nodded to the sentiment but said nothing. He said little on the trip aboard the pirate ship. He said little since he surrendered. He walked beside them or in front, but he looked like a tiger, declawed. His weapons were all missing. The pirates were excited about getting paid when they delivered the girl.

Yasmina looked around as they walked. It all looked like new construction. The dock looked brand new. The palace they came to looked unfinished. She saw workmen down the way arguing over the length of the timbers. “Where are we?” she finally asked.

“Mahdiya, the new capital of the Fatimids,” al-Rahim whispered. “You see the soldiers. They are young and still full of revolutionary fervor. You see the palace guards are well turned out. And… I am sorry. I managed to keep you out of the hands of the Isma’ili fanatic Qarmatians only to land you in the hands of the Isma’ili fanatic Fatimids.”

“No,” Yasmina said and reached out to touch al-Rahim’s arm. “The story is not over yet.” She had a different comment for Aisha. “We escaped the Wicked Witch of the East only to land in the hands of the Wicked Witch of the West.” Of course, Aisha did not understand what she was saying, but she could imagine. “I wonder if a bucket of water will melt them,” Yasmina added to herself, and then got lost in her thoughts while they were taken inside and told where to wait.

Several hours later, without having had so much as a snack, they were allowed into the audience chamber of the Caliph. Al-Mahdi, the old, gray-haired Fatimid Caliph sat on an ostentatious throne on a raised platform at the end of the room. Throughout history, the Kairos thought such raised platforms were normally so the king, or whoever, could see all the people in the room. In this case, Yasmina got the impression this platform was designed so all the people in the room could see the magnificent Caliph.

Yasmina thought it was good of Islam to ban idolatry and remove all the statues that used to be worshiped. The old way had gone. Unfortunately, most people had a hard time focusing their worship on an Allah-God who is presented as a nebulous, invisible, all-wise, all-powerful, out there spiritual something. Instead, most people tended to replace the stone statues with living people they can relate to. Christians worship Jesus, though with reason. Muslims are no less subject to this, and many tend to worship Mohammed whether they realize it or not. This Fatimid Caliph seemed to be saying the people should worship him, which is the worst sort of idolatry.

Al-Rahim and Aisha went to their knees, and Yasmina offered a bow before she stood there and studied the old man, even as he appeared to be studying her. She looked at the middle-aged man who sat lower on a much simpler chair near the Caliph’s right hand. She figured that must be the son and designated heir, al-Qa’im. There were men to the Caliph’s left, nearby. Advisors, no doubt. And two young men stood near al-Qa’im. Yasmina guessed they were al-Qa’im’s sons. She also noticed the movement behind the lattice work wall off to that same side. The women, Yasmina understood. She imagined the Mahdi’s wife and al-Qa’im’s wife were there to watch, and she wondered about the power dynamics in the harem. Then her attention got taken as al-Mahdi spoke.

“Jafar,” he said. “Have you succeeded?”

The pirate captain got up from his knees and answered. “Indeed, I have. May I present the daughter of the governor of Alexandria, Badroul.”

“She is not,” al-Rahim interrupted and stood. Yasmina noticed some shuffling around behind the lattice wall. Someone wanted a good look at the handsome older man. “Your captain grabbed the wrong girl.”

Al-Mahdi frowned at the pirate while the pirate jumped. “What? Who is she?”

“I am Mohammad al-Rahim, captain of the royal harem guard of Mecca. I serve the women, wives, and concubines of the Lord Sharif of Mecca, Medina, and the Hejaz. May I present Yasmina, the daughter and sole surviving heir of my lord, and by the blood of Ali, the rightful ruler of the holy cities and all of the Hejaz.” People gasped and whispered all around the room. Of course, there was a question whether or not a woman could own and rule any land, but al-Rahim presented her that way and figured the legal questions would come later. He raised his voice to continue over the murmuring crowd.

“When the heretic Qarmatians came into the city under the pretense of being peaceful pilgrims, by her father’s command, I spirited the princess away from Mecca and after a year of travel, we came at last to Alexandria where we might have stayed for a time and rested while we made plans to retake the homeland and liberate the holy cities. Unfortunately, your bungling pirates came in search of the governor’s daughter and kidnapped the wrong girl.”

The pirate captain fell to his knees and trembled, “Please…” he began to beg, but the Caliph waved off his concern and al-Rahim finished his story.

“Thinking further on our situation, I believe it is fortuitus, one may say by the hand of Allah we have come to stand before the great Caliph of the Fatimid. I believe you may grant us sanctuary and may even support our efforts to liberate the holy cities of Mecca and Medina, and above all, protect us against the Qarmatians who have followed the princess every step of the way, even threatening the governor of Egypt to turn her over or they planned to come and fetch her.”

“May I ask,” al-Qa’im interrupted, but looked at his father as if needing permission to speak. Al-Mahdi made no objection. “May I ask why the Qarmatians should be anxious to come and get the princess?” Al-Mahdi frowned at his son, like the answer should be obvious.

“Indeed,” al-Rahim said. “Tahir al-Jannabi wished to marry her to one of his sons so he might have a legitimate claim on the holy cities and the land of the Hejaz.”

Al-Mahdi paused to stroke his beard, like something interesting occurred to him. Al Qa’im looked at his father as the old man spoke. “Child. Do not be afraid. We are like family. You are descended from Ali as we look to his wife Fatimah, daughter of the prophet. It has been many generations since that time. Our relation is now distant, but we are family all the same.” The Caliph sat up a little straighter. “Child, you should not be afraid to show your face to family. Come, lower your veil.”

Excuses, excuses, Yasmina thought. The Caliph just wants to see what goods he is getting before he makes a pronouncement. She lowered her veil and looked at the old man, the son, and the two grandsons, thinking, the advisors are not family.

The Mahdi nodded when he saw her face, like he expected to find a beauty beneath the veil. Al-Qa’im smiled at what he saw. One young man appeared to like what he saw well enough. The other young man showed signs of lust on his face. Yasmina heard more shuffling behind the Lattice wall but only Aisha with her elf ears could hear what the women were saying.

“She is very pretty, and she looks kind.”

“I think she will make a fine wife for al-Hakim.”

“Mother! The Caliph has not even invited her to stay, and you are already marrying him to my son?”

“Of course, that will depend on the figure beneath the robe, but if her face is any indication, I say she will work out well. As for the Caliph, there are ways of convincing my husband to do the right thing. Trust me, I have an idea of what he is thinking. It may not take much convincing.”

“Sadly, I don’t think it will matter. My son does not seem to be interested in girls.”

“Al-Mansur looks interested. We will have to watch that.”

“Al-Mansur is interested in all the girls. He is of the age where he can hardly contain himself.”

“Yes. I had hoped some of him would rub off on al-Hakim.”

“Sadly, no.”

“Too bad that fine looking captain is not a man.”

“Mother!”

The Mahdi spoke. “Let the captain be housed with the harem guards. Let the princess keep her maid, and give her the finest rooms, and feed them, they must be hungry and tired after their long trip. Kahlid, see that they receive proper instruction in the faith.” He waved them off and they got escorted out of the room. Yasmina never did find out what happened to the pirates.

Medieval 5: K and Y 20 Misdirection, part 1 of 3

August 19, 2024June 29, 2024M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Kirstie

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

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

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

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

“He is not lying,” Yrsa said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So, I get a second,” Kirstie said.

“You have your girl.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Medieval 5: K and Y 19 Taken by Strangers, part 3 of 3

August 14, 2024June 29, 2024M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Yasmina

Francesco nodded like he would not back down on that point. “I have heard Maruf refer to you as the Khidr, which he claims to be a holy angel and most wise servant of God. I believe it. He says you even know what is to come in the days ahead.”

“Not exactly,” she admitted and finally looked away again, like she might be studying her feet. “The Greek word is Kairos, event-time. I know something about the future, but mostly centuries from now. I have no more idea what tomorrow may bring than any other person.”

Francesco looked at her, closely. She glanced at him but quickly turned her face down again. “So, you do not deny it,” he said, in a most serious tone.

“It is not what you think,” she said.

“I think I would like to see you again, and maybe many times.”

Yasmina nodded but thought to ask him a question, since he seemed reluctant to speak about himself. “Tell me about your home. Amalfi is in Italy?”

“Yes,” he said. “And it is beautiful, on a beautiful bay of the blue sea, surrounded by beautiful green tree covered hills.”

“You said beautiful three times.”

“So, I know what I am talking about when I use that word.”

“What of the people?”

“They are like you, kind and friendly,” he said. “I think you would fit in well there, I mean, if you should ever come to visit.”

“Merchants?”

“Mostly,” he admitted. “We are surrounded by Eastern Roman lands, but we are an independent city not subject to imperial dictates out of Constantinople. This has allowed us to become rich through trade. We trade much in Alexandria, and a few places here in Egypt. My family was one of the first to open trade with the Fatimids in the west. So, you see, we are not strangers to Arabs in our midst, though I am sure none as beautiful as yourself. Eh?”

He asked because Aisha came over from the place where she watched. Al-Rahim watched on the other side. Aisha spoke. “Suffar has excused himself from the presence of the governor. I cannot read what he has in mind to do, but it will not be good.” Aisha went back to her watch post and Francesco looked at Yasmina with a questioning look.

“Suffar is a wicked sorcerer,” Yasmina said. “And he hates me because he says I am filling Badroul’s mind with thoughts contrary to those he wishes her to think. Honestly, I am trying to help her grow up and think for herself. I think Suffar wants to brainwash the poor girl so when she comes of age, she will marry his son. I have met the son. That would be a terrible thing to do to any young girl.”

“There, do you see?” Francesco smiled for her. “You care about people. You think of others. I think secretly, you must be an angel.”

Yasmina looked down again, but she found her hand reach up to her veil. She lowered the veil and turned to him sounding uncertain. “What do you think?”

Francesco gasped before he put his hands on her shoulders. He mumbled, “My imagination is not as good as I thought.” He kissed her. Yasmina’s eyes went wide before she closed them and kissed him back. It was different. It was good. It was very good. She felt warm and very positive. Whatever differences they had they could work them out. She thought many such things and really did not think anything at all.

Something started happening down the path where al-Rahim watched. It took a second for her mind to catch up to the sound. “You must go. Hurry.”

Francesco did not look like he could move. Al-Din came from the bushes as Yasmina replaced her veil. Badroul came, unveiled, and looking flushed. No doubt they were kissing. Yasmina wondered if they talked or just kissed the whole half-hour.

“Come,” Francesco said and grabbed al-Din by the arm. They hurried to the tree, climbed up and went over the wall.

“Stay here,” Yasmina told the girl. “Hide in the bushes until I tell you it is safe.” Badroul stepped behind a bush and squatted down. Aisha came up in her leather, a knife in her hand. Al-Rahim came from the other direction with blood on his sword. A dozen men came on his heels. They looked like pirates, and the worst sort of ugly ones.

Al-Rahim crossed swords with two of them. Aisha cut one man in the arm and parried a sword aimed at Yasmina. The sword went awry, but Aisha lost her knife.

Yasmina jumped in front and called for her armor in the face of the men. Some stopped and backed up. Something primal rose up inside her at the same time. A spear got aimed at Aisha and lightning flashed from Yasmina’s hand. The spearman instantly became a pile of ash. All of the pirates stopped and backed up. One of them, possibly the leader spoke.

“He did not say she was a witch.”

Al-Rahim pulled Yasmina back behind him. He had his scimitar out and it dripped pirate blood. Aisha found a second knife, but neither could prevent Yasmina’s mouth from speaking.

“You hurt my maid, or my retainer, and you will not live the night,” she yelled.

Aisha put her hand out to hold Yasmina back. Al-Rahim took one step to be fully in front of Yasmina. There were still a dozen pirates or more, and several of them had out bows and arrows. Al-Rahim bowed to the inevitable. “We will go with you peacefully, but if one of you so much as touches the princess, you will not live another minute.”

The pirate who appeared to be in charge said, “Deal. We won’t get paid until we deliver the goods, undamaged as instructed. If anyone touches her before delivery, I will personally chop their head off. I want to get paid.”

Al-Rahim cleaned his scimitar with a cloth that hung from his belt but as he sheathed it, the pirate leader said, “We will have your weapons.” Al-Rahim nodded and handed over his scimitar, long sword, and knife. Aisha’s knives apparently disappeared. Yasmina’s weapons all went away with her armor. She stood clothed again in her tent-like dress complete with hood and veil.

“Ready,” Aisha reported. She had changed her clothing from leather back to her own dress and did something to change her appearance. She now looked like a middle-aged maid with some extra weight. It was self-defense. She tried to make herself as unattractive to the pirates as she could.

“Lead the way,” al-Rahim said.

“Where are we going, anyway?” Yasmina asked.

The head man did not answer her. The pirates took them right out the front door. Yasmina saw Suffar the Vizir standing in the shadows, watching. No surprise. He wanted to get rid of her so he could concentrate on Badroul without her interference.

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

MONDAY

Both Yasmina and Kirstie go where they would rather not go in Misdirection Until then, Happy Reading.

Medieval 5: K and Y 19 Taken by Strangers, part 2 of 3

August 13, 2024June 29, 2024M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Kirstie

Yrsa kept her elf ears wide open. She reported that she did not hear anyone say anything to suggest they were seen. Soon enough they got swallowed by the dusk and all but disappeared, a mere speck on the water. Father McAndrews said they were in danger of striking rocks until they got beyond the islands altogether, but Kirstie had something in mind. The women stopped rowing and pulled up the oars.

“Fardlevan,” she called, and realized the water sprite must have been following them as he jumped straight to the edge of the boat and saluted. “Fardlevan, this is Father McAndrews of Lindisfarne. Fardlevan, the water sprite of the Farne Islands.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Fardlevan said, pleasantly. “I’ve watched the good father go back and forth from the island of the monkeys and this island lots of times. I guessed the poor father can’t make up his mind.”

“No… Well, sort of. I’ve thought about taking up the hermitage, but I don’t feel the lord is calling me to that. I’m just not sure what call there is on my life now that I have aged a bit.”

“Aged like a good wine, maybe,” Yrsa said as she finally just about got the water out of the bottom of the boat.

“They are monks, not monkeys,” Kirstie corrected the sprite. “And we need to get to the Holy Island to warn the people there. The Vikings are coming in the morning to steal, kill, and destroy.”

“That sounds bad for the poor mudders who live on the interruption in my beautiful sea,” Fardlevan sounded distressed. “They live such short lives as it is.”

Kirstie agreed and asked. “Can you help us get there safely, help us avoid the rocks and all?”

“Better,” Fardlevan perked up. “We can take you there. Keep your oar things in the boat and we can make a current and carry you through the deep water to the shore.” The sprite jumped back into the water and in a moment, the boat began to move. It soon got dark enough so they could not honestly see where they were going, but Yrsa and Kirstie trusted the sprite completely so Father McAndrews hardly knew what to say.

“The sea and the sky are my friends,” Kirstie told him again.

“Still, it would be nice to see where we are going,” Father McAndrews said and looked out into the growing darkness.

Yrsa let out a yawn and said, “We are far enough away from the men and putting an island between us and them. A little fairy light should not give us away.” She rubbed her hands together and produced a fairy light that she let float in the air. She pushed it out in front of the boat. It did not light up the whole area, but it stayed a few feet up in the air and out front so they could see where they were headed.

Kirstie had to concentrate before she began to glow like moonlight. She kept as much heat out of her light as she could. Father McAndrews hardly blinked when Kirstie said she was filled with a piece of the sun, but she could tone it down. “I am a fire starter,” she reminded the man.

He just nodded. “And your maid?”

Kirstie thought about saying Yrsa was also gifted at some point. It was why they ended up together, or basically, a lie, but Yrsa spoke first.

“I’m an elf,” Yrsa admitted. “A light elf not made to wander around in the nighttime.” She let out another small yawn.

Father McAndrews did not look surprised. “But you are mostly human.”

“I am completely human,” Kirstie said sharply before she softened her voice. “I have just been gifted way beyond what I deserve.”

Father McAndrews smiled. “I was right the first time. You two are much like angels, anyway.” He turned to watch their progress. Two hours later they docked at the abbey on Lindisfarne and Kirstie thanked her water sprites for their good help.

Men, mostly monks came to the dock, having seen the lights. Yrsa extinguished her fairy light right away and said now she was really tired. Kirstie took a minute to figure out how to turn off her glow and agreed with Yrsa. “Is there a place to sleep?” she asked. “They won’t be here for at least six hours. They will probably come with the high tide when the walkway is covered with water.”

The men on the dock, some with weapons did not know what to say. Kirstie and Yrsa were dressed in their blue and green dresses, and Father McAndrews scolded the men for even having weapons. He got their attention when he said, “The Vikings will be here first thing in the morning. Any who wish to leave better hurry while the walkway is safe and while they can. But first, we need to see these angels housed and left to sleep, and then I need to see the abbot, so someone needs to be brave enough to wake him.”

“If the ladies will follow me,” one monk said. His fellow monk carried a torch.

Kirstie nodded her agreement, though she could hardly be seen in the torchlight. She considered what she could do to prevent a bloodbath. Nothing she could think of. She would have to decide what to do when she saw where they men intended to land, and when she learned if there were people foolish enough to not leave when they had the chance. “Good night sweet prince, and flights of angels sing thee to thy rest,” Kirstie said to Father McAndrews, and she joined Yrsa in following the two monks. The cobblestone walkway from the docks was rough and not well kept. The monks knew where to put their feet, but Kirstie and Yrsa needed to watch their feet. Kirstie made her flashlight hands to help, and only one of the monks let out a sound of surprise. Kirstie figured the other was the silent type.

They soon came to a room with several cots. The women did not say anything. They made beelines to the cots, laid down, pulled up blankets, and turned their backs on the monks. The monks hardly got the door closed before they were both asleep.

Yasmina

Al-Din and Francesco snuck into the garden to see the girls. Badroul could barely contain her excitement. She never did anything so naughty before. Yasmina looked at it differently. She knew if the boys got caught, they would lose their heads.

“Badroul,” al-Din whispered too loud. Abu the Jinn assured the boys that the guards, Suffar, and the governor would all be busy with other tasks and not have their eyes on the girls. The garden wall was not a hard climb. “Badroul.”

“Hush,” Yasmina said. “The guards are busy, not deaf.”

Badroul flew into al-Din’s arms. Their kisses were the tentative kisses of youth, but they got the hugging part down pretty well.

“You didn’t fly into my arms,” Francesco objected.

“You are still a stranger to me,” Yasmina responded, though she reached for the man’s hand and took him to a bench mostly hidden by the bushes. She looked down the whole time, even when they sat, side by side. He never took his eyes off her. Yasmina felt some anger at herself. She was not this shy. She forced herself to look the man in the eye and he responded.

“I know that you are a beautiful young woman.”

“You can’t see more than my eyes. How do you know what I look like?”

“I have a good imagination,” he said. “Back home, there are nuns who walk around in tent-like clothing such as yours, and they often cover their faces. Young boys have learned to use their imagination. It is a terrible, sinful thing to do, but all the boys do it. It can’t be helped. Beyond that,” he said and briefly looked away. “They say the eyes are the window to the soul and I can see the beauty inside your eyes. I believe that is the important part.”

Yasmina kept wanting to turn her head away. Her face wanted to redden, but she steeled herself and answered him. “Is that how the Romans conquered the world, through flattery?”

“No, that was hard work. The thing that made it worthwhile was occasionally finding things worth flattering.”

Yasmina smiled beneath her veil but got serious. “Can we come back to reality now? I still don’t know you.”

“But I know you,” Francesco said. “I have seen you around the home of Ala al-Din, my friend. I have seen how well you treat the servants and slaves, how you care for your horse, and how gentle, kind, and loving you are. There is much more to you, I am sure, but I believe it can only be good.”

“Ha!” Yasmina scoffed, but she nearly laughed.

Medieval 5: K and Y 19 Taken by Strangers, part 1 of 3

August 12, 2024June 4, 2024M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Kirstie

In the morning, when the sun rose and Father McAndrews and the girls finished their Haddock with a bread and water breakfast, the girls hugged the old man, promised not to give him away, and headed back toward the ships. Kirstie offered a thought.

“Even if we end up staying here for a week, he should be all right with the smoked fish we left for him.”

“And the full water bucket,” Yrsa said, and then she added, “Have you thought about what you are going to do about you-know-who?”

Kirstie looked at her friend and shook her head. “Danna, the mother goddess says she is ready when the time comes, but I don’t see what else I can do. He has had three chances to do the right thing and go over to the other side, and three times he has refused. He seems determined to be worshiped and bring humanity back under the old way of the gods, his gods. This cannot be. The old way has gone, and the new way has come.”

Yrsa nodded slightly but said nothing.

“Kirstie!” Kare, of all people, saw her first and ran to her. He grabbed her and sort of hugged her before he angrily grabbed her by the upper arm and dragged her into the camp. “We were worried about you out there in the rain and the dark. We searched for you until it got too dark to see and the rain came hard. Where did you go? What did you do all night?” He showed concern, but anger as well, like how dare she run off without him right there to watch her.

“You must be hungry,” Thoren said, but Kirstie shook her head.

“Kirstie called a fish from the sea,” Yrsa said. “We found a place to shelter, and she made a fire so we could cook the fish. We are fine.”

All Kirstie could think was at least Kare knew how to hug.

“Come on,” Kare said. “Captains Ulf and Odger came in early this morning, and he has called the captains together for a meeting.” Kirstie arrived in time to hear something very disturbing.

“Cnut remains a believer in the old ways, and he is fighting against this Christian business as much as against the kings in the land. He knows Lindisfarne is responsible for reaching the people with the Christ. He wants it utterly destroyed. He wants to finish the job Halfdan Ragnarsson started twenty-five years ago. I figure after twenty-five years the monks have had plenty of time to refill their coffers with plenty of gold and silver, and that will be ours to take.”

“So, to understand,” Harrold said. “You are telling us now that Cnut is not concerned about Bamburgh. Lindisfarne has been the target all along, only you are just now telling us.”

“No. The raiding was an important first part of the deal, but I figured we needed to keep one eye focused on the king’s city in case he did send the army after us. Now I figure all eyes will be focused south from here and no one will be looking north toward the monastery, so ruining the place should be easy.”

“And Cnut won’t pay us unless we destroy the monastery. Is that so?” Jarl said.

“Basically,” Ulf said, but he said it in a way like he was surprised anyone might object. “Look, there is no rush. Let my crew rest today and tend their wounds. We can sail to the island in the morning and still take them completely by surprise.”

No one said any more. Kirstie and Yrsa backed away. Unfortunately, Kare and Thoren stayed right with them.

Kirstie whispered. “We have to get free and get Father McAndrews. We have to warn the people of Lindisfarne.”

“Thank you, Lady. I was thinking the same thing but did not know if I should say it.”

They began to make plans.

Near the end of the day, Kare left their little camp to talk to Harrold. Thoren stayed by the fire to watch the girls, but Kirstie imagined she would have no other chance. “Now,” she whispered and stood.

“Where are you going?” Thoren asked.

“To relieve myself?” Kirstie said.

Thoren looked closely at their faces and said something Kirstie did not expect. “You better hurry before Kare gets back.” They hurried.

“He knew we were leaving the camp” Yrsa said.

“Not necessarily,” Kirstie tried to object.

“He knew we were leaving the camp,” Yrsa repeated. “I would say he knew we had found a way to get to Lindisfarne and warn the people, and he let us go to do that.”

“So, like he said, let’s hurry.” Kirstie thought Thoren was a better man than Kare. She did not mind the man marrying Hilda.

When they reached the shore and cave, and explained what was happening, Father McAndrews panicked a little. He calmed when he said the journey in his little boat only took a couple of hours.

“So, no need to rush,” Kirstie said. “They won’t move out until tomorrow morning. We can have supper first and you can pack before we go. Where is the boat?”

Father McAndrews took them to the edge of the cave and pointed down. “There. in the hollow space between that big rock and the cliff. It is covered against the rain and any breakers big enough to wash over the big rock, but that only happens in the worst of storms. Last night was not so bad.”

Kirstie nodded. She built up the fire while Yrsa fixed the second haddock, the smaller one. Small was fine since they would not be saving any for breakfast. Somehow, she managed to remove the smokey flavor, so it tasted like fresh caught.

“How did you do that,” Father McAndrews asked.

“Secret old family recipe,” Yrsa answered, and Father McAndrews did not pry.

When they had eaten, Father McAndrews said they better hurry. “The sun will set in an hour and we want to be well out of these islands by then. There are rocks in many places to avoid and I have to be able to see the landmarks.”

Kirstie shook her head. “Better we leave after dark, so we won’t be spotted by our people.”

“That would be dangerous,” Father McAndrews countered.

“Have faith,” Kirstie said, and they waited until it was nearly dark, and only moved because they heard men talking and shouting, scrounging around on the clifftop.

“Quiet and careful,” Kirstie said and went first down the rocks that made something like a very steep and narrow stairway. They uncovered the boat when they heard the men overhead get louder. They got the boat in the water when one man shouted. They found the cave.

Kirstie and Yrsa sat side by side and each took an oar. They would not let the old man row. Kirstie said he had to stay in the bow and spot their direction, to tell them left or right to avoid the rocks. Getting out into the sea between the islands took some effort, but the father had been correct in his assessment. The waves below the cave were not nearly as strong or high as elsewhere, though the boat still bobbed up and down like a cork.

Medieval 5: K and Y 18 Unexpected Meetings, part 4 of 4

August 7, 2024June 4, 2024M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Yasmina

When they entered the gates of Alexandria, Yasmina looked around at all the people bustling about on their errands and commented. “This city is alive, industrious. Not like the lazy places and villages we have visited.”

“It is full of Greeks and Turks. There are plenty of Christians and some Jews mingled in,” Aisha agreed, and pointed to several things, including a church.

“Very cosmopolitan,” Yasmina named it as they came to the market area and she got to look at many faces. Aisha continued to point out various things and people, but Yasmina zeroed in on one face in particular.

“Hold up,” al-Rahim said as they had to wait for a handful of armed men who crossed the street in front of them. Yasmina hardly noticed. Her eyes focused on the old man, and after a moment, it struck her.

“You there, Jinn,” Yasmina pointed at the old man and the old man looked startled. Yasmina stopped moving so Aisha stopped. The guards stopped, and only al-Rahim out front rode another twenty feet before he noticed and came back. “Yes, you. What are you doing here?”

“Who? Me?” The old man asked and pointed to himself. His eyes went wide with either shock or surprise, and he looked around to see people who paused to watch.

“Lady,” Aisha looked and sounded offended. “We do not traffic with such creatures.”

“Ah,” the old man seemed to understand something. “A spirit of light.”

“You do not belong here,” Yasmina said. “How did you get here? What are you doing here?”

The old man looked around at the people who were becoming curious about this exchange. “I can explain, only please, not here. I will take you to my master’s house and make all matters clear. Come.” He turned and waved for them to follow. “Come, come.”

Yasmina walked her horse after the man, so the others fell in behind her, but al-Rahim had to say something. “Princess?”

“It will be all right, I think,” Yasmina said. “But I may have to do something terrible if I don’t get a good answer.”

After a short way, they came to a gate and entered into the courtyard of a home which appeared to be a palace of sorts. Servants came to collect the horses, and al-Rahim only had to threaten them a little to take good care of their steeds and things. “And if anything is missing, you will be missing your heads,” he said. In that time and place that was only a little threat.

The old man Jinn took them inside to a large room with many cushions and tables set for guests, and he spoke. “I will just go and see about refreshments.”

“You will stay here,” Yasmina said sharply. “I don’t want you out of sight before I get an explanation.” She sat and the others sat with her except al-Rahim who fingered his knife.

“Very well,” the old man did not argue. He clapped for servants and gave instructions before he sat to face his guests. “How is it that you, a mere mortal should see through my disguise?” he asked.

Yasmina was not distracted. “What are you doing here? I know in the past Solomon the Great attached many of your kind to rings and lamps, whatever came to hand, and many jugs and jars where you were sealed in with his great seal. I also know, in the last days of the gods your kind were sent over to the other side, to the land of fire and sand, and a great veil was placed against your return. I also know that no Jinn has the power to pierce that veil and return to this world. It takes a great power on this side to bring one of you back to this Earth. So how did you get here and what are you doing here?”

The old man widened his eyes again in shock or surprise. “Who are you to be so wise, to know the ways of the Jinn?”

Aisha, who frowned in the Jinn’s presence, spoke plainly. “She is the Kairos, the Traveler in Time, the Watcher over History.”

The old man fell to his face and prostrated himself. “Al-Khidr,” he called her.

Yasmina gave Aisha a dirty look and spoke, trying to put kindness in her voice. “Sit up. Tell me your story. Make it a good one, but be honest, hard as that may be for you.”

The old man sat up slowly as he began. “You know, the Jinn do not live forever. We may live thousands of years, but we are not immortal. Neither are we gods, though we may appear that way to some because of the power we possess. I was one who was neither good nor bad. I was selfish and full of pride, and I used my skills to my advantage over the mortal world. It was Solomon himself who turned my pride against me and trapped me in a lamp.” He held out his hands and the lamp appeared in his palms. He set it gently on the table between them.

“Did you not go to the other side?” Al-Rahim asked as he finally took a seat.

“I did,” he said. “And for two thousand years, trapped in the lamp, and I contemplated all I had done in my days. I… I reformed and vowed if I had a chance to live again on the Earth, I would do good for others what I would have them do for me. Sadly, I was reaching my final days and began to despair. It was the god Abraxas two hundred years ago who reached out to the land of the Jinn and rescued me. I believe he wanted a Jinn he could easily control, like me being tied to the lamp. I do not know what wicked plans he had, but when I would not cooperate, he threw me away.”

“Did you wonder what he wanted?” Yasmina asked.

The old Jinn shook his head. “But being discarded, my despair grew a hundred-fold. Here I was in the land of the living, but I remained trapped in the lamp and saw no way to escape. I was found and used to bring light to a home, a small consolation, but then one day, a young beggar boy stole me from my place. He cleaned me up to sell, and in rubbing me, he set me free. I accepted him as my master, and I have served faithfully ever since. I have accepted young al-Din as like a son to me, and he is in love.”

“Wait,” Aisha said, while Yasmina put her face in the palm of her hand for thinking about it. “This is not the home of a beggar boy.”

“My master wanted to be rich,” the old Jinn said. “His father slaved for al-Zaatar, who ruled this place. He was not treated well, which is why the young son had to beg in the streets. It was a simple thing to convince the old man al-Zaatar to make his faithful servant the elder al-Din his heir since the man had no children. Al-Zaatar died within the year. The next year, the elder al-Din passed away and the young man inherited it all, though he was but sixteen years. He is presently eighteen and at one of his properties, but he should be returning shortly, and you can meet him.”

“Tough luck having his father die like that, right after gaining all this,” Harun said, and al-Asad agreed.

The old Jinn ran his fingers through his beard and looked at the table. “So I have come to understand. Human mortals live such short lives as it is. I thought a few years before his time would not matter, but I see now that they hold on to life for as long as they can, maybe because it is so short.”

“So, is he happy now?” Aisha asked.

The old Jinn shook his head. “But there is hope,” he said. “He has fallen in love with the Lady Badroul, though he has only seen her a few times. I believe the young lady also loves him from afar, but she is just fourteen, so it will be a few years before she is old enough to marry. She is also the daughter of the Governor of Alexandria and the Sharif of all this land. That might be a problem, but not a difficult one.”

Yasmina finally removed the palm from her face. “So, she is Badroulbadour, daughter of the Sultan of Egypt, and you are the genie of the lamp, and you serve Ala al-Din, or as some say, Aladdin. Is this not so?”

The old Jinn shrugged. “I do not know some of those words, but I suppose that is about it.”

“How can I be so lucky?” Yasmina said with a great amount of sarcasm, and everyone looked at her, wondering what else she might know.

The old Jinn lifted a hand to regain their attention. “Love is the most mysterious thing in the universe. It is so simple and so complex. But there is one thing standing in the way of the young lovers. Suffar is a great man who has gained the ear of the governor. He has become the chief advisor… “

“Vizir,” Yasmina corrected. “But I thought he was Jafar.”

The old Jinn nodded. “He has his eyes on Badroul for his own son, though the boy is presently only fifteen. He needs a few years as does she. So, that is the complication, not the least because Suffar is a wicked and powerful sorcerer.”

“Of course, he is,” Yasmina said and threw her hands up.

The younger al-Din proved to be as good and kind a young man as Yasmina expected. They stayed with him for three days before they moved to the governor’s palace. Yasmina, though only seventeen, found the eighteen-year-old Ala al-Din rather childish about some things. She found his Roman friend, however, enchanting. Unfortunately, the twenty-one-year-old was a Christian, but Yasmina thought, well, no one is perfect. She was surprised how easily the name Francesco d’Amalfi fit on her tongue.

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

MONDAY

Kirstie and Yrsa discover the real target of the Vikings is the monastery at Lindisfarne. Somehow, they have to get Father McAndrews and warn the people there. Until Monday, Happy Reading.

Medieval 5: K and Y 18 Unexpected Meetings, part 3 of 4

August 6, 2024June 4, 2024M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Kirstie

“We are shield maidens, but we are not dressed for throat cutting at the moment,” Kirstie said. “Yrsa is trying to convince me that I need to settle down and become a man’s good wife.”

“You don’t sound convinced,” Father McAndrews said.

“That will depend on finding the right man,” Kirstie responded, and she pulled out her little wooden cross. She genuflected slightly for the priest and asked, “Why are you here all alone on a deserted island?”

He looked at her. “You are believers in the way?”

“I am, as was my mother. We are after a fashion, but we have no priests, not even a deacon or monk to guide us. You should come to Strindlos, though I suppose that would be dangerous. Most of the Trondelag hold tight to the old ways of Odin and Frigg, though they are gone now. The new way has come, but word has not reached my people yet. It will take some real men of courage to come and share the gospel among my people.”

“Come,” the father said. “We must get out of the rain that is coming.” He walked them to a steep climb down to the entrance of a cave. It looked much like a cell in a monastery. He had a cot, a table with parchment and a chair, and he had a fire mostly burned down, but wood to feed it. “You asked why I am here. Penance? No, this is like a hermitage, but only part time. I often come here for a few days to pray and seek the Lord. I haven’t much food, but you are welcome to share.”

“And you write?” Kirstie said and noticed the parchments rolled up and sticking out of a basket beside the table.

“Only notes,” he said. “I have taken to study the works of Saint Bede if you heard of him. But among his books I found a copy of the book about Beowulf, a story from your homeland. I must say, it is the strangest book I have ever read. I had to get away for some days to really digest the story and pray about it.”

“All true, mostly,” Kirstie said offhanded as she laid some wood on the fire and let a little fire out of her fingertips to get it burning well. She tried to be careful about it, but Father McAndrews noticed.

“A fire starter?” he asked.

“My Lady is gifted with many unique and special gifts,” Yrsa said.

“Gifted, by who?”

“The almighty,” Kirstie said and stepped over to the cave entrance. She looked down about thirty feet to the sea. “I would not think any gift would be given except as the Lord allowed. God is still in control, you know.”

“Yes, but witchcraft is frowned upon,” the father said.

“And if I were a witch, I would frown upon myself. Fortunately, these gifts are not witchcraft, though they may appear that way to those who are superstitious and do not know any better. God gives all sorts of gifts. To some tongues, to some healing, to some the working of miracles. God gifts evangelists, pastors, teachers, and all sorts of ministries. The apostle did not say his was an exhaustive list covering every possible gift under the sun. I’ll grant you, some of what I can do is unusual. But so are some of my friends. So it goes.” She turned to Yrsa. “This isn’t my skiff. I don’t know if this will work.”

“What is she doing?” Father McAndrews asked Yrsa, but Yrsa quieted him.

“Haddock would be nice, or maybe a salmon if there is trouble jumping up the cliff.” Kirstie yelled. A big wave formed in the distance. Father McAndrews’ eyes widened to see it. When the wave hit the cliff wall, two haddock and a wild salmon shot into the cave, along with too much water. It almost put out the fire, so Kirstie had to stoke it again.

“The sea and the sky are my friends,” Kirstie said, as Father McAndrews came to the edge and looked down into the sea.

“The beauty of this place is the breakers are not so bad. They don’t keep me up all night,” he said. “I always imagined directly below this place the water was extra deep and not filled with rocks to start breaking the waves before they hit the cliff.”

“Or, maybe you have more rocks further out, so the waves are broken before they get to the cliff,” Kirstie countered, and called for her knife, Cutter. It appeared in her hand, something like a bowie knife. She turned first on the haddock, beheaded them, slit them open to dump the innards over the edge, and expertly filleted them. She had been cutting fish for the fire her whole life.

“Do you have anything to grease the pan?” Yrsa asked. Father McAndrews produced some lard along with some bread and cheese. Yrsa started one Haddock cooking, the big one, as Kirstie finished cutting the salmon. She found some rope and a convenient rock and hung the salmon and the other haddock over the fire where they could smoke. She asked about that because the smoke went to the back of the cave and disappeared.

“Somebody well before me cut some holes in the back of the cave that rise to the surface. As long as the breezes come off the sea, the cave is well ventilated, and the smoke does not linger. I have to check the holes now and then to make sure no bird has built a nest in one of them, but they work well. Do you suppose Saint Cuthbert or Saint Aidan made them?”

Kirstie smiled. “It would be nice to think that.” She asked about water.

“Yes, sorry. My water supply is running a bit low. There is a spring a few yards down the opposite way where you were standing, but I have been afraid to come out of my cave with murderous Vikings about, er, sorry. I know I should not fear men, but that is easy to say and not so easy to do.”

“Yrsa,” Kirstie handed her the bucket. “You can go and not be seen by anyone,”

“But the stone way will be slippery in the rain. You must be careful,” Father McAndrews said.

“She is very sure footed.” Kirstie added and smiled for Yrsa. Yrsa did not look happy going out in the rain and carrying a heavy bucket of water. Just to express her unhappiness, she turned herself invisible right in front of the father. “Yrsa has some talents as well,” Kirstie added.

That evening, while it rained outside, they stayed warm and dry inside the cave. They talked about many things. How Kirstie lost her mother and then lost her father but met Yrsa. She praised her friend for kindly crying with her when she was just ten years old. Father McAndrews told them how he got the first name, Fain. He said his father was a joker.

“Father said when someone asks if I am fain to go, I should always answer no, I’m Fain McAndrews. Ha. Ha.” He didn’t laugh.

“Father suits you,” Kirstie decided, and she yawned. Father McAndrews wanted Kirstie to have the bed, but Kirstie refused. “You are an old man who needs his rest. Yrsa and I are young and strong, and used to sleeping on the hard deck of the ship to the sound of breakers on the rolling sea. We will lie by the fire and probably be asleep before you.” So they slept, and sometime in the night it stopped raining.

Storyteller Tales & Thoughts

Stories and reflections on storytelling

Author: M G Kizzia

The Unjust King

The Three Raids of Summer

Medieval 5: K and Y 20 Misdirection, part 3 of 3

Kirstie

Medieval 5: K and Y 20 Misdirection, part 2 of 3

Yasmina

Medieval 5: K and Y 20 Misdirection, part 1 of 3

Kirstie

Medieval 5: K and Y 19 Taken by Strangers, part 3 of 3

Yasmina

Medieval 5: K and Y 19 Taken by Strangers, part 2 of 3

Kirstie

Yasmina

Medieval 5: K and Y 19 Taken by Strangers, part 1 of 3

Kirstie

Medieval 5: K and Y 18 Unexpected Meetings, part 4 of 4

Yasmina

Medieval 5: K and Y 18 Unexpected Meetings, part 3 of 4

Kirstie