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Medieval 6: K and Y 7 Unexpected Guests, part 1 of 2

M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Kirstie

The next three days were spent keeping Soren covered, wiping his sweaty brow, and feeding him soup. Inga came by every day for a visit and Mother Vrya also came on that first evening and brought all the medicine the Witcher Women had gleaned from nature over the centuries. Nothing much helped. Kirstie guessed Soren had a flu bug of some kind, and it would pass; but then again, such diseases could be serious, especially in the days before antibiotics and antivirals. She grew very concerned the evening his fever shot up and he complained that his ear hurt him.

It got late, and she had very little sleep. In her mind, she reached out into the future to Doctor Mishka, seeking advice and solace against Soren’s suffering.

“I could take a look.” Mishka’s voice spoke clearly in Kirstie’s mind. Kirstie decided that would be good. She had done this before, and she knew Mishka could do much more with her own eyes and hands than she could do by looking through Kirstie’s eyes. Kirstie settled herself. She traded places through time. She became Mishka, or rather Doctor Mishka came to take her place while Kirstie went to the place of waiting where she would stay for however long Mishka stayed in her time. “This won’t take long.” Mishka told her.

Mishka bent over Soren and did her best to look in his ear and throat. She called for the bag she kept at Avalon since ancient times, but it did not come. “I would have liked to give him some pain killer at least,” she said, and sneezed.

“I don’t know what the trouble is.” Kirstie spoke into the doctor’s mind.

“Something,” Mishka said and rubbed her watery eyes. “But it may only be that I have a bit of a virus right now, myself.” That did not sound right. Generally, when the Traveler traded places with one of her other lives, that life arrived in the prime of health and condition. Mishka looked once more at Soren. She suggested a certain bark and herb combination and instructed Kirstie in the method of distilling the product down to drops which should relieve some of the pain and pressure in Soren’s ear.

“That’s about all I can do without my bag,” Mishka said. “For the most part, the medicinal herbs of your Witcher Women are about as good as anything against a virus.” She sneezed again.

“Is this because he fell in the water?” Kirstie asked.

Mishka shook her head. “Triggered, maybe, but the virus must have already been in his system.” Mishka put a hand to her own head, and though she knew full well that she could not tell, she felt sure she had a fever of her own. Mishka traded places and Kirstie returned.

“Thank you, Doctor,” Kirstie said out loud as she set about making the ear drops. “Mishka should not have been sick,” she said to herself. “And the things I keep safe at Avalon should come to me when I call,” she added. Well, whatever the trouble was, it was a mystery that would have to wait. After Kirstie applied the drops, Soren seemed to fall into a more restful sleep. She curled up beside her boy to keep him warm. She quickly fell asleep herself and only woke in the morning when Inga touched her shoulder.

“Wake up, sleepy,” she said.

Kirstie sat up and rubbed her eyes. Normally, no one could sneak up on her like that, but her throat was dry and her eyes crusty. She wondered if perhaps she was catching Soren’s flu. That must be it, she decided. “Morning?”

“And a sail in the bay,” Inga added with a smile.

“Wilam?” Kirstie asked without a pause.

Inga nodded as Kirstie jumped out of bed and ran to the brass mirror. She looked frightful, and the brush could do little with her hair. She had not slept much in the last three days and now she needed some work to pull herself together. Inga looked first at Soren, sleeping peacefully, and then she helped brush some of the knots out of Kirstie’s hair.

“Go on,” Inga said at last. “Or he will be at the dock before you.” Kirstie looked again at her son, but Inga turned her toward the door. “I am sure Yrsa will come by in a little bit. Meanwhile, I think I can watch a sleeping boy just fine.”

Kirstie decided Inga was right. “Thank you,” she said, and she ran, before she walked. She did not want to appear too anxious.

Mother Vrya stood there on the dock, waiting patiently. Kirstie stopped beside the old woman. It would have been unseemly to run out ahead of her like a wild child. “Good morning,” Kirstie said, softly.

“See.” Mother Vrya said, pointing with her walking stick in the direction of the big house. The men were just coming, and there were strangers among them. It was only then that Kirstie noticed another, smaller ship had already docked. It flew the king’s flag and she looked at Mother Vrya with real curiosity on her face.

“You may recall, the one with the red hair is Lind,” the old woman said. “You may remember him from your youth. He is as smooth a talker as I have ever heard. And the dark-haired giant who trails in his steps is Gruden in case you have forgotten. He is as strong a right arm as you will find and clearly one who has killed men. They came here years ago looking for Elgar the Saxon.”

“I remember. Why are they here now?” Kirstie asked. They were the men who came after the trouble with the Vanlil.

Mother Vrya shrugged. “They are still looking for certain people,” she said. “The king heard about Lindisfarne, and he wants to know who was involved. They came here to begin the search starting here in Strindlos.”

“But that was four years ago.” Kirstie said. “Who can they be looking for?” She had a feeling that she knew who they were after, and it scared her a little. “They can’t still be looking for me.”

“How well I remember when the hag drove the Vanlil to invade our land,” Mother Vrya said. “That was more than ten years ago. You were a mere girl of ten. Your parents were slain along with many others in the attempt to defend our homes. I, myself, was crippled in that day. But then, Elgar the Saxon came to our aid, with Mother Greta of Dacia, the Doctor Mishka from the land of the Volga, and from whom I learned a great deal, and the others. These are whom they still seek, no matter what they say.” Mother Vrya concluded.

Those people were all Kirstie from other times and places, other lives she had lived or would live in the future. It felt right that she should ask. “But why would they be seeking them, especially after all these years?”

Mother Vrya shrugged again. “Who knows?” she said, flatly. “But do not be afraid, dear. No one will betray you.”

Kirstie looked again as the men came close. She did not share Mother Vrya’s confidence. Some in Strindlos would betray their own mothers if the price was right. She tried not to think about it. The ship from Northumbria started tying up, and Wilam had already jumped to the dock. He came quickly, as anxious as Kirstie, but Kirstie waited until Mother Vrya touched her hand in a kind of sign of permission, and then she met Wilam halfway. Her arms wrapped around him, and her head turned to lie against his chest. Wilam wrapped her up in his strength, and it was exactly what she needed. A tear fell from her eyes, but Wilam did not see.

They kissed.

“I missed you,” he said. Kirstie sensed his joy in the moment, and she knew he was terribly understating his feelings.

“I love you, too.” Kirstie spoke for both of them. “And right now, I need you.” She needed his arms, his care, his love, and she was reluctant to let him go, but the men were arriving. Wilam needed to renew other friendships.

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

MONDAY

Kirstie is surprised by unexpected guests, but the people disappoint her. The guests are not treated well. Until Monday, Happy Reading

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Medieval 6: K and Y 6 Sickness and the Cure, part 2 of 2

M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Yasmina

They entered and found boxes, work benches, and other things to hide behind near the door. Aisha went to the right and Yasmina went left but listened first. Al-Hakim was explaining about the rifles and their firepower. They had the Alexandrians as prisoners there. Three were bound and blindfolded but dressed in solid armor. They stood against the wall and three men stood facing them with rifles ready to fire. Yasmina recognized Abdallah. The other two looked familiar but she could not quite place them.

“Fire,” al-Hakim said, and all three armored Alexandrians against the wall collapsed. The bullets punched right through the armor.

Yasmina saw al-Din among the few remaining Alexandrian prisoners, and she could not stop her voice. “Al-Din,” she called, and everyone turned to look in her direction. “That was not smart,” she mumbled to herself and let her arrow fly. It was a lucky shot, or an unlucky shot. Abdallah grabbed at it as it pierced his chest and sank deep into his heart. He fell over, dead.

“No!” Al-Hakim became enraged. He could not see straight. He did not think. He rushed at Yasmina, probably not really seeing her. He pulled his sword. She grabbed Ziri’s spear and just pointed it, and al-Hakim ran onto it. “Sister?” He recognized her at the last as his life left him along with his blood. Then everything broke loose.

Yasmina looked up. Al-Rahim killed Captain Hasan and crouched behind a box firing his arrows. Ziri fired from her left and Gwafa from her right. It took a second to find Aisha. She snuck forward and used her knife effectively to cut the bonds of the remaining Alexandrians.

The Berber guards lost a number of men right at the beginning, dead and wounded, but now they crouched behind their own benches and boxes not far away. They only had a couple of bows to return fire, but they still had the numbers. Yasmina feared a concerted charge on their part would finish her people. She thought to hurry around to get at the Berbers on their flank. When she came out from behind her bench, she came face to face with a man and his knife.

She recognized the man. “Lind.” She whipped out her scimitar as he hesitated, just as surprised as her, and doubly surprised at hearing that name. The scimitar sliced the man across the throat, nearly cutting his head off. Yasmina said, “one of two” as she tried not to wretch, but then, it was not her standing there. She did not do the deed. It was Kirstie who took her place. It was also Kirstie that recognized Lind and came to finish the job.

Kirstie set the scimitar, an unfamiliar weapon beside Ziri’s hand. She pulled her battleaxe and shield, which apparently showed up the same time she did. She moved, knowing full well who the other two members of the firing squad were. Lind was one servant of the Masters, but there was another.

“Gruden,” she called as she pushed into the work area and away from the Berbers, contrary to what Yasmina had in mind. “Gruden,” she said when she found him. He got his hands on a sword, but he had no shield. Still, he grinned at her as Kirstie growled at him. Curiously, she understood her own end of days since at that point in history, the event occurred in the past. She knew when she went back to her own days, she would not remember anything about it, but presently, it seemed a very vivid memory. She had to say something. “This time, my ribs are not busted, and my arm is not broken.”

He came at her anyway with a powerful blow, but her shield was up for it. She came back with a swing at his head, and he only had his sword to fend off the blow. This time, she learned from Captain Ulf and did not give Gruden time to breathe. He stepped back as she came at him, blow after blow. He kept stepping back, until she caught the flat of his sword and busted it in half. Gruden would have run, but Kirstie axe sliced him in the middle. It ended with her axe in the man’s head, and Kirstie wondered how many times she had to kill the same man.

Yasmina returned. The battleaxe and shield disappeared, and her scimitar was back in its sheath, miraculously cleaned of Lind’s blood. She hurried back to the others, afraid, because she no longer heard any fighting. She saw Creeper the imp standing there, minding his own business, picking something from his overly large and sharp teeth.

Al-Din and the Alexandrians, with Gwafa, Ziri, and al-Rahim all stood in a tight group against the wall with Aisha in front, her arms outstretched to protect them and ward off any imp, troll, or sand monster that came their way.

“What do you want us to do with the Caliph?” Creeper asked, nonchalantly. Apparently, beyond her own people and the Alexandrian survivors, al-Mahdi was the only one still alive. He had an arrow in his chest, or upper belly that looked bad. No telling if he would live. Probably not. Yasmina closed her eyes for the moment. She did not want to see all the torn and shredded bodies.

“He needs a horse,” al-Rahim said as he dared to step free of the group that cowered behind Aisha.

“Send him back to the palace where he will either live or die,” Yasmina agreed and opened her eyes again. “We have to find whatever black powder they were making and pile it in several places around the building. Then we need to set it off and get out of here.”

“The black powder is in a back room encased in concrete,” Aisha said. Al-Din followed her and questioned the word, concrete.

“A Roman invention from centuries ago,” Yasmina explained. “It is very hard and would mostly contain the explosion if there was an accident in the powder room.” That did not really explain it, except that it was a hard Roman invention of some sort.

“Creeper,” Yasmina called. “I need some of your people to take the guns and some of this equipment to Avalon,” she said. Al-Rahim presently had a rifle in his hand, and he was trying to figure out how it worked. “No, no.” Yasmina told him, took the rifle, and handed it to a waiting little one. “There are not supposed to be guns for another three or four hundred years.”

“How do you know…?” Al-Rahim bowed. “Princess. I saw Kirstie, you know. I’m sorry I did not get the chance to meet her.”

Yasmina frowned. “She is not happy. She had to kill two men.”

“And you. Are you all right.”

Yasmina nodded and looked down at her shoes before she spoke between some tears. “It was an accident. When I shot Abdallah, I was aiming at a different man, a soldier. When I picked up Ali’s spear, I thought he would stop and back up, but he ran onto the spear. I could not help it.” She began to cry softly, and al-Rahim hugged her.

It took a couple of hours to clean out the place and set the charges to destroy all the gun making equipment that could not be moved. Aisha said they were taking too long. “Al-Mahdi made it back to the palace and the Berbers are gathering. They should be here soon.”

Al-Rahim raised his eyebrows before Yasmina explained. “A couple of imps followed the Caliph and are spying on events there. Aisha is able to get some information from them. Long distance, I know. Don’t ask how. Just trust that it is so.”

Creeper came up at that moment with the same word. “We have to go.”

Yasmina nodded. Al-Din and his three Alexandrians picked out the best horses from the dead troop of Berbers. Ziri and Gwafa were already mounted. Aisha held Yasmina’s horse with her own, and al-Rahim mounted, wholly trusting by then that Yasmina knew what she was doing. Yasmina nodded and lit the fuse, then they rode as fast as they could away from that place and away from Mahdiya.

Aisha saw the Berbers riding to the factory, but she knew Creeper and his people would stop them or at least stop their horses from following. She saw that the Berbers stopped all on their own when the factory went up in several massive explosions. Then she joined the others in a grove of date palms and could see no more as they vanished into the desert. They got away, but Yasmina sneezed and wondered if she was coming down with a cold.

Medieval 6: K and Y 6 Sickness and the Cure, part 1 of 2

M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Kirstie

Kirstie found Soren in the water off the edge of the rocks where she told him not to play. Kirstie jumped into the half frozen, early spring water in a flash. She hauled the boy to the shore and stripped. She wrung out her dress and threw it around him as fast as she could to keep him warm, thinking that if she got too cold in the air she could always return to the water for a time. The water never felt cold to her. On the coldest winter days, the kind that chilled to the bone and even the blazing fire could not thaw, she had been known to walk to the end of the dock and throw herself into the icy water. After ten minutes or so underwater, she always came out warmed and refreshed. It occurred to Kirstie that maybe she was a sort of Viking mutant. She didn’t know.

Kirstie rubbed Soren’s back while Inga rubbed his arms and legs, but Soren kept looking over his shoulder until Kirstie finally looked with her own eyes. A bear stood about twenty feet away, down by the water’s edge, evidently hungry.

“Most bears will leave you alone if you leave them alone,” she told Soren. All the same, she got him up and they headed back to the skiff.

“But he ran at me and frightened me, and I slipped,” Soren explained.

“If he wanted you, he would have dived in after you.” Inga told him. “Bears are good swimmers, like your mother.”

“Stupid, freezing mother.” Kirstie said. She had forgotten that she had clothes on call, and her armor, of course. All was kept safe on Avalon for whatever need she might have according to whatever life she was living. “Foolish me,” Kirstie said. She reached out with her heart and called to the dress she wanted which was made by the fee of the glen. Nothing happened.

“What was that call?” Inga asked. Kirstie didn’t answer. She just stomped her foot in annoyance. She called to another dress, and boots besides. The dress should have simply appeared, fitted to her form, and the boots on her feet, but again nothing happened. She became angry. She pictured her armor and herself wearing it, with her battleaxe at her back, her long knife across the small of her back and her cloak around her. She demanded it, and it came, but after a moment’s hesitation. Kirstie felt stymied. The outfit had been made for the Traveler by the ancient Greco-Roman Gods. Its’ appearance should have been instantaneous and automatic. Something felt wrong.

Unfortunately, she did not have time to worry at the moment. She had her soggy dress off Soren and had him stripped down so she could wrap him in her dry cloak. She carried him to the skiff while he sneezed once. It took them about an hour to row back home against the wind, and by the time they arrived, Kirstie felt sure Soren had a fever.

Yasmina

Yasmina and Aisha wore their riding clothes. Al-Rahim had hers and Aisha’s horses ready and waiting in the gate. Hasan, captain of the harem guard in Mahdiya and al-Rahim would ride out front. Yasmina and Aisha would follow, and a half-dozen guards would ride behind them. The people in the streets just had to get out of the way. They came at the back of the column of soldiers that followed al-Mahdi and al-Hakim, so they got all the dust. Yasmina was grateful for her veil on that ride.

Al-Qa’im wanted to encourage his son but opted to stay in the palace with his wife. He did not feel well, or so he said. Yasmina knew that Creeper the imp and a few of his select friends had a talk with al-Qa’im. The heir apparent had begun to make noises about wanting a grandson, and if Yasmina could not produce a child, they would find someone who could. Camela, the imp disguised as an old lady in the palace got her husband to scare the man half to death. No wonder he did not feel well.

They headed toward the factory which was outside of town in a secluded area. There was something al-Hakim wanted to show the Caliph. He called it a demonstration but did not explain what he was demonstrating. Yasmina badgered the poor boy until he allowed her to tag along. She was just glad to finally find out what was going on in that secret factory. Only one thing surprised her. She found her saddle bags packed with some of her personal items, like her hairbrush and things. When she asked Aisha about it, Aisha told her al-Rahim imagined one of those hags she told him about, or anyway, something that was not good, and we might need to make a quick getaway.

“I thought that, once,” Yasmina admitted. “But al-Hakim is such a nice guy. I can’t imagine it.” When they arrived and dismounted, Yasmina heard a distinctive cracking sound in the distance. She figured it out in seconds and hardly needed Doctor Mishka to tell her what made that sound. “Shit,” she said, plenty loud but fortunately in English so only her elf maid caught it.

“Al-Rahim,” Yasmina got his attention as al-Mahdi and the men with him went inside the building. “How many of your men can we trust?”

“Possibly all. I personally picked them. That depends on the assignment.”

Yasmina called to her armor and got out her bow and arrows. Aisha followed her lead. “I am probably going to have to kill some people, probably including al-Hakim, and blow up the building and everything in it.”

“Ziri and Gwafa, follow,” al-Rahim decided. “The rest of you stay here and guard the horses.”

Captain Hasan stepped up to ask, “What?” He took a second look at Yasmina in her armor.

“There is trouble inside. Expect a fight.” Ziri and Gwafa drew their weapons and shields, then grabbed bows and arrows like the women.

“What trouble? Fight who?” Hasan asked.

Yasmina interrupted and turned to the four guards for the horses. “You four men need to ride back to the palace in all haste in case the enemy goes there. Do your duty and guard the women. Hurry, hurry.” They mounted slowly, eyeing Hasan and al-Rahim. Al-Rahim waved them off and they started out, but they did not hurry.

“What are you talking about?” Hasan insisted on an answer.

“Hush,” Yasmina said. “You talk loud enough, and the enemy will hear us coming.”

“Quiet,” al Rahim said, and Hasan quieted for the moment. They stepped to the door where Yasmina stopped them. She touched Ziri and herself and waved to the left. She pointed to Aisha and Gwafa and waved to the right. To al-Rahim and Hasan she said quietly, “Guard the door.”

Medieval 6: K and Y 5 Divorce, part 2 of 2

M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Inga let Yrsa go home while she came up with Kirstie’s four-year-old son, Soren. Kirstie grabbed Soren and rocked him gently with her tears, and Inga stayed right beside her.

“Mama?” Soren cried a little, too, but he was not sure what he was crying about.

“Every time he was home, I tried to make it work. I tried for four years, nearly five.” Kirstie told Inga. “How stupid was that?”

“Not stupid.” Inga said. “You want a husband and a home, and you did everything you could to make it work. There is nothing stupid in that.”

Kirstie cried a little more. “He is so mean. He’s meaner than Severas, greedier than Corriden, far uglier than Sabellius, and stupider than Otto, Louis and Charles, the Three Stooges put together.”

“Who are they?” Inga asked softly.

Kirstie shook her head wistfully. “People who will live a hundred years from now, right before Y1K. It doesn’t matter.” She paused, then shouted as if the little speck of a ship in the distance could hear her. “I wish you lived a hundred years from now. Then I would not have to suffer with your mean, greedy, stupid, ugly self!”

“Mama?” Soren watched her closely.

“It will be all right, dearest. You will see. Some day you will be a good man, a good captain, with your own ship.”

“Like Papa?” he asked.

“No.” Kirstie said flatly. “Not like your father. I said you will be a good man and have a good wife and many happy children.”

“Kirstie.” Inga touched her arm. “You have been a good wife. Even if it is over, you have nothing to be ashamed of.”

“Wilam?” she whispered.

“You deserve him.” Inga said to Kirstie’s surprise. “A good wife needs a good man and a happy child.” She included Soren.

“Soren,” Kirstie said, holding him back a little to look at him. “Are you happy?”

Soren looked at his mother, turned to Inga, and then looked back at his mother. “I guess,” he shrugged.

“Well.” Kirstie said, feeling a little better after her cry. “Let us do something to make you happy.” She stood and took him by the hand. Inga took his other hand and they all decided to get out the little skiff to picnic on the other side of the bay, and maybe catch a few fish.

“Inga.” Kirstie said later in the day. “What am I going to do?” It was a problem for women in her world. The Viking lifestyle produced too many widows, lonely women who became a burden to their children and the community. Many of those women suffered from hunger and hopelessness for years. It was why men got away with so much, and why so many women stayed home despite their better sense. At least her village had a tradition of bringing such women together for mutual help and support. The Witcher Women worked in linen and wool and worked as tailors and seamstresses, so they contributed to the community and were not just burdens.

Kirstie was rich compared to most women. She was rich like the nobility. She had properties and tenants. She had thralls to work her land. She was looking at another piece of property on the other side of her house. She was thinking about getting some horses to ride like Yasmina. She would need more thralls or hired men. Maybe a family of farmers, like serfs. Still, it would not help her in her loneliness. What if Wilam changed his mind over the last year? Surely Kare will move to Nidaros full time. Let him go, but that would leave her alone.

Kirstie repeated the question. “What am I going to do?”

“Do not doubt Wilam,” Inga said, and indicated she had been thinking about it.

“I don’t,” she said without much conviction. “But he is an outsider. He might never fit in here. I don’t know.”

“Well,” Inga drew out the word. “You could always sell your properties and with all that money you and Wilam could buy a fine home in Northumbria. I am sure King Eadwulf would make room for the savior of Lindisfarne.”

Kirstie paused before she shook her head. “My place is here. I need access to longships and their ability to travel long distances. I have a feeling this struggle with Abraxas is not over, banished from the earth though he is for all time. I don’t know what Wilam will say. There is so much about me that he does not know. He may yet change his mind.”

“Well, you could come back to the Witcher Women. Mother Vrya would not mind if you did,” she said.

“I don’t know if I could.” Kirstie sounded pensive. “It is honestly not my place.”

“Faugh.” Inga said with a smile and a touch on her arm. “You have been blessed by the gods. The water and the fire, Njord and Fryer themselves have gifted you beyond any ordinary women. You have more real magic in your little finger than all the Witcher Women who ever lived. Things changed mightily the day Elgar the Saxon killed the Hag that drove the Vanlil to make war on the fjord.” Kirstie nodded. She understood.

“Then again, you changed everything for all women on the day you picked up a sword. Why, you went to sea with the men, not once, but three times in your youth. You know how to navigate. You know about sails and sailing. You have even slain a man, a rite of passage that only boys hope to attain.”

“All that is true.” Kirstie said. “But it means nothing. For four years now I have been a wife and mother, just like any other in the village and whether I picked him or not, Kare has been my husband and father to my son. Now that we are divorced, where will I go? What will I do?” Kirstie sounded more distressed than she actually felt.

“I would say you can do anything you want.” Inga said. “You proved that much on more than one occasion.”

“Perhaps Soren and I should run away and join the circus.” Kirstie said out of frustration.

“What’s a circus?” Inga asked. She always asked, though Kirstie rarely answered.

“Mama!” They heard Soren’s cry from a distance. “Mama!” It was his cry of distress and Kirstie got to her feet and ran as fast as she could.

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MONDAY

Yasmina does not want to be left out of this divorce business but unexpectedly faces the servants of the Masters and Kirstie is called on to fight in Sickness and the Cure. Until then, Happy Reading

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Medieval 6: K and Y 5 Divorce, part 1 of 2

M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Wilam and Kirstie spent as much time together as they could over the week his ship was in port. Sadly, it did not amount to much time. Fortunately, it was enough time for Kirstie to know she would say yes when he asked again. She realized how important it was that she decided to divorce Kare first, back when she never expected to see Wilam again.

Wilam left all too soon, but he promised to be back in a year. They had a contract with the village. Kirstie swore the divorce would be settled by the time he returned, but then Kare did not come back to Strindlos for almost the entire year. She heard he returned to Nidaros after a roughly five months of good weather. He stayed there a couple of months, sailed off again for another couple of months before the winter came full on. He landed again in Nidaros and returned to Strindlos only in the early spring. He saw the grain and wool as well as the furs and hides she collected and tanned for trade. He also found the two ivory walrus tusks the dwarfs brought her in early March, around Soren’s fourth birthday.

“They rut in February and the old ones die off then, sometimes,” Booturn said.

Kirstie asked if she could keep Birdie and Missus Kettle for another year. He said, “By all means,” but she could tell he was beginning to miss her. She vowed she would find a cook she could hire, which is how she preferred to think of it, and another woman she might get to do the wool, linen, and the general sewing and constant mending and washing needed around the place.

“Too bad Mother Freyja is not around these days,” she told Yrsa one afternoon when they walked home from visiting Kirstie’s properties. When Yrsa asked why, she said, “Because she could find just the right two women for Thomas and Gustavs, and I would not have to worry about them so much.”

“They seem content,” Yrsa said.

Kirstie agreed. They had no complaints. But content and happy were two different things. “I guess now I have to depend on the Lord to direct my steps,” she said, but did not explain what she meant.

When they got home, Kirstie found Kare rummaging around in the barn and drooling over the ivory, which he found, picked up, and covered with a blanket so no one would know. He started toward the barn door and got caught with the goods. He had to quickly toss them aside.

“Get out,” Kirstie yelled first thing before she even realized he was stealing her stuff.

“What?” He played stupid.

“You no longer have any business being here. I’m divorcing you.”

“What?” He got suddenly serious. “You can’t do that. You are my wife.”

“I can do that, and I am doing that.” She let out some steam. “Get out and don’t come back.”

He got triggered. Kirstie saw the red boil over in Kare’s eyes. He had to have heard about her decision to divorce him and maybe he thought he could talk her out of it, but she knew how to push his buttons. He clearly wanted to hit her but paused when he heard a voice behind him.

“You heard her,” Thomas and Gustavs both stood there, and Thomas had a hoe while Gustavs carried the pitchfork.

“You heard her,” Yrsa mirrored the words and appeared beside Kirstie, her knife in her hand. Booturn also stepped up, and he held an axe as big as himself.

“Get out,” Kirstie yelled again.

“I would do as the lady says,” Booturn spoke calmly.

“Okay. All right. I’m going,” Kare backed down, but he kicked the ivory tusks and slammed the barn door as he left.

Kirstie fought back the angry tears. “He came back to steal my stuff,” she concluded.

“You need to get to Inga, Mother Vrya, and Chief Kerga first thing in the morning,” Yrsa said, showing a remarkable bit of sense. Kirstie nodded and went into the house. When Inga came with Soren, she told Inga what she was going to do.

“I’ll be ready,” Inga said, and Kirstie thanked her. She fed Soren and put him to bed. She crawled into her own bed alone until Soren toddled in and got up in the bed beside his mother. Then Kirstie slept.

When the morning came, when the sun just touched the horizon, Yrsa came to take Soren’s hand. They followed Kirstie who went straight to the Witcher Women. Despite the early hour, Mother Vrya was ready and waiting, and Inga stood with her. They got to the big house in time to see Chief Kerga go in ahead of them.

Chief Kerga had to send two men to fetch Kare. Kare was preparing his ship for departure, and he refused to come on his own, by request, or by an order from the chief, so he had to be brought in. Jarl and Harrold were there to witness along with Mother Vrya and several of the village elders. It did not take long for Kirstie to explain. Kare was unfaithful, a drunk and a thief besides. Yrsa was a witness to his thieving. He tried to walk off with her ivory.

“The word of a woman supporting a woman,” Kare said. “That hardly counts as proof.”

“Thomas and Gustavs were both witnesses, too,” she said.

“The word of thralls? What did you promise them to lie for you?”

“There are other witnesses, but I hesitate to call them. Anyway, it does not matter. You were caught stealing before.”

“What? You have no proof of that.”

“But we do,” Jarl interrupted. He called two men to testify. They were once part of Kare’s crew, but Jarl enticed them to sail on his ship, and they did not take much enticement.

“Yes,” they said. “We were with him last year when he tried to take the grain and wool from the barn. He said it was his to take. We did not know.”

“But it was not his to take,” Kirstie said. “Besides, he sold my thralls, my property without permission. He owes me thirty pieces of silver. Better yet, he should be forced to go and get my thralls back at whatever cost. Besides that, he hit me once, and more important, he hit my son. You all saw the black eye. I know, some men beat their wives and children. Some men take from the family and from their wives and get away with that. Some men even have lovers on the side. But all these added together say I cannot trust him. The marriage is dead and should be ended. Besides that, he never paid the bride price, and for that the marriage should be counted as if it never happened. I would rather have poor Soren be a bastard son than continue in this farce.”

Kare choked on the words “bride price.” He tried to think of some defense, but he had nothing. The beating, the mistress or two, even taking the wife’s property without permission might not of themselves be grounds enough for a divorce; but he forgot all about the bride price. It was too late. He could never pay enough. She would not accept it, and without paying the bride price, they were not really married. He finally said, “But you are the one I was always going to marry. You are my wife.” His anger flared, but he got cut off by Harrold’s words.

“Not anymore.” He looked up, not at Kirstie, but at the ceiling, and said, “Divorce.”

Jarl said “Divorce.”

Mother Vrya and Chief Kerga said, “Divorce,” and the rest of the men said it, though some of them whispered it.

Kare roared. “I’ll be back soon enough, and then we will settle this.” He stomped out of the building.

“It’s already settled.” Kirstie shot after him with her anger. She raced to the door. “I won’t be here when you get back.”

“You had better be.” Kare shouted. “Or I will find out who he is and kill him.”

“No.” Kirstie shook her determined head, her light blond hair going every which way. “It is over between us.”

“You are my wife.” He roared once more.

“Forced.” She growled. “But no more.”

Kare rushed back and his hand came up to slap her face, but Kirstie stood her ground ready to fight him off. “You know what will happen if you ever strike me.” She said in a low, hard voice. She would kill him, and he knew it. He thought better about the slap. With a growl of his own, Kare spun around, raced to his ship and they cast off. As the oars came out and the ship began to pull out into the fjord, Kirstie sat down, right on the dock, and cried. All those years of pent-up frustration, disappointment, and feelings of hopelessness came out all at once.

Medieval 6: K and Y 4 Happy Soon, part 3 of 3

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Kirstie

“It is well known that a woman warrior, a shield maiden stood alone on the field beneath Lindisfarne Abbey. She alone faced four hundred Norsemen and asked them, no, demanded that they not do any evil on that holy ground. Some say it was arrogance. Some call it hubris. But the Holy Church has determined that the angels of the Lord came around her to protect and strengthen her arm for the trial. Indeed, she fought the devil on that field and prevailed, and the Northmen, being men of honor, accepted the outcome and withdrew from that place, thus sparing the abbey and the holy island.”

“That was not exactly how it went,” Harrold mumbled.

“Near enough,” Rune whispered.

“Lindisfarne is ruined these hundred years. They have no gold, no silver, no jewels of any kind. Only a few ragged monks remain to keep the fire burning. But it does remain a symbol of peace and salvation for all the people, and this the church knows well. Therefore, they established a small purse and went to King Eadwulf II to find the woman and reward her with all of their thanks. The king was so moved by the courage of the woman who faced certain death, he doubled the purse, and we were contracted to find her and bring her the sign of our gratitude.”

“And Fairhair?” Jarl asked. “You said the king’s business.”

“Hush,” Harrold said. He liked a good story.

“Quiet,” Chief Kerga added.

“That first year we sailed to Kaupang, the chief trading town of the Norse, the king’s town. Harald Fairhair took half of our goods without compensation, and we dared not complain. Somehow, he heard about the attack on Lindisfarne and became enraged. He asked who did something so stupid without his permission. He was told Ulf Hakenson from Steinker, but Ulf got killed before there was a battle, so the others withdrew. That calmed the king a little. “That is one bad situation I don’t want to get involved in,” he said. “Let the Saxons and Danes kill each other off. I have plenty of Geats and Danes by the shipload right here to deal with.” We got out of there and said nothing about Trondelag or Strindlos. So, if the king comes here looking for the men involved in the raid on Northumbria, he won’t hear about it from us.”

“Why would you care what happens to us?” Harrold asked. It was an honest question and got an honest answer from Wilam.

“Because we want a good trading partner, and it would not start things well by pointing a finger at you. Right now, we are the only ship from Northumbria who is brave enough to dare the waters of the Norse. Others will follow soon enough, but we would like to be established and on good terms before that happens.”

“Story,” Chief Kerga said as if the interruption was rude. Brant picked up where he left off.

“In the second year, we sailed to Agden, not wanting to get tangled in Vestfold again and not wanting to give up half our cargo for nothing. We sailed the shore all spring and summer. Rogaland, Hordaland, Sogn and the great fjord there. We had to give some of our goods again for nothing, but we also made some trades, so it was not a total loss. However, we did not find Trondelag. We found many fjords, but the best information we could get about Trondelag was further north, further north. By the time we got to South Moeri and we found out Trondelag and the fjord we were looking for was in North Moeri, the weather began to turn. We headed home with little to show for two years of trade, but now we at least knew where we were headed.”

“In the third year, the king got word that Aethelwold, the son of Siefried died under strange circumstances, and Cnut of York invested his sons, Halfdan, Eowils, and young Ingwaer to follow after him. King Eadwulf kept his ships close to home that year. We did not go out. Then, this year, we came straight to this place, but we were stopped at the entrance to the fjord. We told them we were on the king’s business and looking for the village of Strindlos. They were good enough to give us directions and let us go. We got stopped a second time in the narrow place by Stadr.”

“We are on the king’s business,” we said.

“And what business is that?” the captain asked.

“It is the king’s business,” I told him. “Should I turn around and go back and tell the king one man would not let us proceed?”

“We are headed to Strindlos with word of another hag,” Wilam interrupted. “Should we tell the hag that Stadr seems a very tasty village.”

“That won’t be necessary. You may proceed.” Several of the men that sat listening laughed, nervously.

“We almost got stopped a third time, but we told Captain Jarl that we were on the king’s business. We did not, however, say which king. The box.” The two men guarding the chest set it on the table in front of Captain Olaf. “Kirstie,” Brant said. “Please accept this reward and the thanks of both the church and the king, that is, King Eadwulf II.” he opened the box and the men saw it was full of silver and some gold coins.”

Kirstie did not blink. “Please bring the box over here,” she said, and walked to the table they used when a ship returned and had to divide up their take fairly under the watchful eye of the chief and the elders. They brought her the chest and she dumped it on the table. It did not have as much in it as it appeared. The chest had thick sides. It took her a few minutes under everyone’s watchful eye to divide the contents into eight equal piles. She had two pieces of silver left over and she handed them to Mother Vrya for the Witcher Women.

“Why eight piles?” Jarl asked. “One per ship?”

Kirstie shook her head. “Njal’s ship, Odger’s ship, and the other captain I can’t remember deserve nothing. They only left when they were outnumbered. One pile is for Chief Kerga and the village of Strindlos. One is for me, captain of this ship. It is the ship’s portion. A second is my personal cut, me and Yrsa. She pushed the two piles back into the chest and closed the chest. For these last five, I need two leather pouches if there are any.” She got offered three pouches. One was clearly too small, but the other two would do well enough. “These five piles are for the ships that came to their senses and to my side of the field. You deserve a fair share of the thanks.” Kirstie filled the two pouches with a portion each and that left three portions on the table, one for Rune, one for Jarl, and one for Harrold. Each portion had a gold piece, but Kirstie picked up the gold piece off Harrold’s pile and spoke to him.

“But you already received your gold piece.”

He did not argue. Instead, he reached for the inner pocket of his tunic and pulled out the little golden Cross Father McAndrews gave her. She was surprised he still had it and had not melted it down. “I have heard the story,” he said. “I think I will keep this if I may.”

“You may,” she said, and handed him the gold piece as well.

When all was done, she said, “These two bags are for Captain Erikson and Captain, the other one.”

“Roarson,” Rune said.

Kirstie nodded, picked up the chest and the two bags and juggled her way back to her seat where she tried to hide her face behind her hair.

After that, it got trade boring. Kirstie put her grain and carded wool into the pot of Strindlos trade goods, but then she and Inga snuck out. The men would have to work out the rest of it, and she felt glad to see Wilam right in there bargaining with the best of them.

Medieval 6: K and Y 4 Happy Soon, part 2 of 3

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Wilam and Kirstie let go and looked a bit embarrassed at having behaved as they did, even if most of the crowd just smiled at them. Alm had his arm around Yrsa, and she had her arm around Soren. Inga and Brant looked around and saw the captains Olaf and Jarl headed for the village. Kirstie saw Rune and Harrold head there as well. Mother Vrya and her cane limped beside Chief Kerga, who limped some himself after all those years.

Kirstie quickly distracted herself by reaching for Soren. She knelt down to her son and saw the welt around his eye, and it made her more determined than ever to tell Kare to leave and never come back. She picked him up and set him on her hip before she turned. “Soren,” she said. “This is Wilam.” Soren looked before he turned his shy head into his mother’s shoulder.

“Come on,” Brant said.

“A good son,” Wilam said and brushed the boy’s hair from his face. “Let me see that eye.” Soren would not look up to show the man. “That looks like a real black eye. It must have hurt.”

“Start walking,” Inga said, and the couple began to shuffle slowly in the direction of the village.

“A shock, I think,” Kirstie answered. “And one of many reasons why I am getting a divorce as soon as possible.”

“I had my share of spankings when I was growing up,” Wilam admitted.

“More than his share,” Brant said, with a knowing smile for Inga, who returned the smile.

Wilam continued as if not interrupted. “But my father never hit me. I knew when I did wrong and deserved a whipping, but my father never hit me.”

“Soren did nothing wrong. His father was angry, and he lashed out. He knew if he hit me, I would kill him, so he took his anger out on the child. I have no use for a man who hits people when he does not get his way. I especially want nothing to do with a man who hits children.”

Wilam raised a hand like he was taking an oath, and he said, “I promise to always respect you and the children for as long as I may live, so help me God.”

Kirstie looked down to watch her feet. She said nothing until they reached the door to the big house. Then she said the word that stood out in her mind. “Children?”

Wilam apologized. “I’m sorry. You are all I have thought of for three years. I feel as if we are already married. I’m sorry.”

Kirstie stopped. She set Soren down and let Yrsa take his hand again. She looked again in Wilam’s eyes and hardly knew what to say. She surprised herself as much as Wilam when she finally answered him. “A little girl would be nice.”

“Inside,” Inga said, and took Kirstie by the hand.

“Wilam,” Brant spoke in a tone of voice that got Wilam’s full attention. He motioned toward the doorway, and Wilam nodded and followed him in.

The first order of business was to open a keg of the local brew and get some food cooking almost as an afterthought. Kirstie once wondered why men had to get drunk before discussing business. It seemed an odd ritual, but it was the way it was done.

Yrsa and Buttercup kept Soren outside and occupied. They would eventually take him to Hilda’s where he could play with his friend Hodur. The other three women, Mother Vrya, Inga, and Kirstie sat off to the side in a special area where women were allowed. The women were not supposed to speak unless given permission, though they did not always play by that rule. Certainly, no one stopped Mother Vrya from speaking when she had something to say.

Once the atmosphere was subdued, Chief Kerga began with the introductions.

The strangers were seated where they faced the chief, sort of in the center of the room. There were five of them, Captain Olaf, Wilam, Brant Svenson, and two men who carried a small chest between them. They looked like rough men who kept their eyes on the chest, and that made people curious.

The three ship captains sat up front by the chief. They were all on a slightly raised platform that allowed them to see the whole hall. A dozen elders, mostly men with big, productive farms sat around the strangers, and some other men sat behind them.

“Captain Olaf Sturgeson, mostly Danish from the town of Lucker in Northumbria, English land. My Skipper is Brant Svenson, a fine Norwegian lad through his father Sven. My navigator is young Wilam Halfdanson, the last son of Halfdan Ragnarsson before he sailed off to Ireland to be killed in battle.”

Olaf had to stop as the talk went around the room. Everyone knew about Halfdan Ragnarsson, son of Ragnar Lodbrok, who with his brothers, Bjorn Ironside, Ivar the Boneless, and Sigurd Snake-in-the-eye, raised a great army and invaded England. Only the West Saxons stopped them from conquering the whole island. When the room settled down, Olaf got ready to speak again, but Wilam stood, and the room quieted. He spoke to Kirstie.

“My mother became pregnant days before my father sailed off to try and retake Dublin. By the time I was born, he had already failed and died in battle. So, you see, I never knew my father, and though I carry his blood in my veins, I do not make it a big thing.” He sat.

Olaf added, “Most of the crew call him Wilam, but some, sometimes call him Halfdan out of deference to his father.”

“Thank you,” Kerga said, with an extra-long look at Wilam and a long glance at Kirstie. “Do we have any who will vouch for the captain?”

“I will,” Jarl stood. He told the story of sailing to Normandy and being captured by the hag. Everyone there remembered how frightening the hag of the Vanlil had been, so they did not doubt the horror of the experience. He told about being caged beside the men from Northumbria while he left Old Man Skarde with Kirstie and her maid on the ship. He told how angry he had been at first, not that the three left the ship, but that once again Kirstie would get credit for saving the day. Then he exaggerated the confrontation with the hag beyond belief, but he ended with saying Captain Olaf and his crew stood beside them ready to fight as friends.

“When I found them off the coast of Nidaros, I hailed them, and they said they were on the king’s business. Brant spoke for his crew and said they were looking for Strindlos. I thought it was my duty to escort them here and see what king’s business they had in this place.”

Captain Olaf stood. “Our business is two-fold. First and most important, we are merchants in search of honest trading partners. I was told the people of Trondelag have need of quality crafted ironworks, plows as well as swords. We also have cows in the hold if you have the desire for such. We will take grain, but we would prefer furs such as are scarce in the English countryside and hides that may be worked into many made items.” He stopped speaking because the men began to shake their heads and make noises about not understanding the man. Brant stood, because his Norse was not tainted by such a heavy Danish accent.

“Our business is two-fold.” He took it from the top. “We are first of all merchants in search of fair and honest trading partners. You have the hides and furs that are hard to come by in our home. We have some finely crafted ironworks that you will find interesting and useful. But we can discuss trade a bit later. First, we have a duty to the king. Let me tell you the story.” He glanced at Kirstie and looked at Inga, who smiled for him, and it made him smile.

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

MONDAY

Kirstie is rewarded for her work in Northumbria and then needs to figure out how to get a divorce from Kare the Jerk. Until Monday, Happy Reading

*

Medieval 6: K and Y 4 Happy Soon, part 1 of 3

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Kirstie

Once on the dock, they got joined by the elders, including Svend the blacksmith who was not quite ready to move to Nidaros, and they were backed up by all the families waiting to welcome home Jarl’s crew from their long voyage.

The new ship looked like a real transport, like from the Danelaw, or maybe eastern, Swedish lands. It had a hold and stood taller in the water that Jarl’s longship, but it looked slimmer than the typical belly-boat such as merchants sailed in the waters of Northern Europe. It looked like the kind of ship that might stop at the towns at the entrance to the fjord, or sail to the king’s house, back before the king’s house burned, or maybe sail all the way up to Maerin or Steinker. It did not look like a ship that would bother with a small and getting smaller village like Strindlos.

The ship bumped gently against the dockside, as Jarl brought his longship to the other side. Kirstie did not wonder for long who the ship might belong to. She saw old Captain Olaf lean over from the rail. “May we come ashore?” he shouted in as near to the old Norse tongue as he could manage.

No one could answer because Kirstie took a step forward and shouted, “Wilam.”

“Kirstie,” they heard the return shout, and the young man leapt to the dock without waiting for permission. Kirstie ran to him, and he met her halfway. They wrapped each other up in their arms and Kirstie began to cry softly on Wilam’s shoulder. He whispered in her ear. “I spent the last four years looking for you.”

“I spent the last four years dreaming about you. I’m sorry,” she said, and could not say any more through her tears.

Inga came up alongside Kirstie and a man came up beside Wilam. They looked at the couple before they looked at each other, and Inga spoke first. “Inga,” she gave her name.

“Brant Svenson,” he said, and smiled. “I take it you are Kirstie’ friend.” His old Norse was much better than Captain Olaf’s, though he spoke with a touch of a Danish accent.

“More like her watcher, ever since she was a wild child.”

Brant nodded. “Same for Wilam. He did not calm down until he started to study the stars and learn about navigating the seas. Now that he has found his heart’s desire, I hope he may finally become a man.”

Inga nodded and pushed her hair back a bit. Buttercup was whispering that this man seemed very nice, but Inga could tell that for herself. Buttercup did not get exposed, but the fairy quieted. “So, you know. Kirstie is twenty. I am eight years her senior and I am studying the ancient wisdom of the Volva. But even at a young age, Kirstie knew more about all things than myself and my teacher combined. She is special beyond words and in ways I cannot explain, but you must see for yourself.”

Brant nodded that he understood something. “And I am thirty to Wilam’s twenty-five, and I saw the goddess in Normandy,” he said, but did not explain as he turned his head when Wilam spoke.

“So, will you marry me?”

Kirstie finished crying and pulled back to look into Wilam’s face. She studied his eyes. She pulled from the embrace but held on to his hands. She did not think for very long. “I want to, but I can’t right now. After Lindisfarne, I was forced to marry someone else. I tried to make it work. I have a three-year-old son. But I just went to the elders to insist on a divorce. I never thought I would see you again. You may want to change your mind, but even if you do, I will be getting a divorce.” She waited, near tears again, but he did not think for very long either. He just had to piece those sentences together.

“So, we have to wait until the divorce is final, that’s all.”

Kirstie cried, but they were happy tears. She hugged him tight once again, and this time she did not want to let go.

“That was quick,” Inga said.

“Not hardly,” Brant said. “She was all he could talk about since he turned twenty-one. Sometimes, I feared he might explode for wanting her.”

“Is that how you feel about your wife?”

“Not married,” he said, and Inga felt something inside. Maybe she felt happy.

“So, the goddess?”

“Gnomes, too, though I never heard that name before. At least gnomes are what she called them.” Brant smiled and did not mind sharing his thoughts with Inga. “My neighbors back home would call them brownies. I suppose in Frankish, old Germanic lands they might be called kobold. Here, they might be called dwarfs or maybe elves of some sort. “

Inga pushed her hair back again to get Buttercup quiet. “My source says they are whatever Kirstie called them. It is part of what I was talking about when I said Kirstie was special beyond words. Apparently, she is the expert and decider of such things.”

“Your source being the fairy on your shoulder?” Brant asked, and Inga looked temporarily shocked. “I can explain. After Kirstie warned us and we evacuated the village, Wilam said he wanted to go back and look for her, but he did not know where to start. We went with the men of Bamburgh to search the coast for signs of the longships. Some men went south. We went north to Ross, and eventually all the way to Lindisfarne and back to Ross but saw no sign of any ships. When the men believed the longships eluded us and we were ready to give up, Wilam and I got a visit from the strangest crew we ever encountered. There were fairies, dwarfs, elves, brownies, gnomes of all shapes and sizes. They talked to Wilam like he was their friend and begged him to hurry to Lindisfarne. They said Kirstie was standing alone, with only her elf maid to support her, and she would surely die at the hands of the Vikings who planned to despoil the island.”

“What did you do?” Buttercup spoke right up suddenly ignoring the fact that she was supposed to be hiding in Inga’s hair.

Inga looked to the side and repeated the question in a calmer voice. “What did you do?”

“We hurried. We got all the ships we could find and all the men we could gather. Many raced up the coast but had to wait for the tide to go out before they could cross to the island. Many went with us aboard the ships. We landed at the docks and climbed the hill in time to see the last of the longships parked on the rocky shore. Wilam said he saw Kirstie, but she was too far away to call. She went with the ship, and he lost her, but he knew she was alive, and the Vikings left the island alone. Later, we heard the story from Father McAndrews about the bravery of the lone girl and how she fought the leader of the Vikings and turned them all away.”

Inga and Brant looked to the side and saw Wilam and Kirstie clinging to each other, staring at them, listening to the story with otherwise the same empty looks on their faces. Inga and Brant shared a smile and Mother Vrya arrived and totally interrupted everyone.

“Love later,” she said. “First we have business at the big house.”

Medieval 6: K and Y 3 Helpful Decisions, part 1 of 2

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Inga, and the disguised elf Lonn led the group of thralls and possible tenant farmers. “I acted as the go-between, if you don’t mind,” Inga said, as she came to stand on one side of Kirstie. Yrsa and Alm stood on her other side. Lonn started with the introductions.

The first couple, an older couple had a sixteen-year-old boy who did not appear to be the shiniest apple in the bin. “They are from Sula, an inland village that was attacked by the Jamts in that year. They have not had good fortune in that place and thought the new village on the Nid River might give them a fresh start. My thinking was they would do well on the far property next to the long field. The woman can keep the garden, the men can plant the small fields on that property, and the boy can keep the sheep where most of that land is better suited to pasturage.”

The second couple was a young couple with a two-year-old baby girl. “They are from Lundar on the Gaul River, again an inland village where the men feel no need to go to sea or go to war. Their story is simpler. They are the younger ones in big families. There is only so much arable land in that place, and though the dowry is small, they hoped to find a place of their own in the new town. I believe they will do well here on the near property where the land is better for crops. They might keep a few cows for the milk if they choose to have a big family of their own.”

The young mother stepped up. “Oh, Lady. I have seen the home. It is like a dream come true.”

Kirstie looked serious and spoke without any sense of jesting. “My husband is captain of a longship and a hard man given to talk down on those he considers beneath him. As long as you don’t rile him, you should be fine.” she let that thought sit for a minute in case one or both couples decided to back out. Lord Amber took the silence to step in.

“I have drawn up contracts. Since you own the properties, not your husband, the tenants will be responsible to you alone. The agreement explains how after so many years of good service the land can become their property. Meanwhile, they have full use of the land and house as long as they remain tenants in good standing. Trust me.” He said that last to Kirstie since he knew she had not read the agreements. She signed everything. When the couples made their mark, because they were unable to read or write, Kirstie, much to her surprise, received five silver pieces from each, and they smiled about it.

“Oh Lady. I just know working for you will be wonderful. You need not worry. We will work hard and do a good job. You’ll see.”

“Your name?” Kirstie asked because the introductions went by too fast.

“Tove,” the girl said.

“Tove,” Kirstie said the name. “And Helga.” She pointed to the older woman in the first couple, who nodded. “It is my intention to stay home for many years to come, but you should know, I am a shield maiden and a navigator. The time may come when I may have to go to sea maybe for months, or even a year or longer. In that case, Inga, our Volva will watch over the properties, and Yrsa here will run the farm and the properties. Or if Yrsa chooses to sail with me, Alm will be your boss. Under no circumstances will you work for my husband.”

“And your children?” Tove asked.

“I have only a son, but if it is children, they will stay with my friend Hilda while I am away.”

“Oh,” Tove looked disappointed and her husband, which Kirstie thought was Sven, spoke on her behalf.

“My wife loves children. She wants to have another right away.”

Kirstie, having just survived childbirth, thought presently that one was enough. “And these last two?” Kirstie said to change the subject.

“Gustavs and Thomas,” Lonn said. “Gustavs is the elder. He is from Latvia in the east. Thomas’ heritage is from Strathclyde in the west, but he has been a thrall since birth. Gustavs worked a farm in the north where the old owner died, and the son got killed in the attack on Howick. The old woman could not afford to keep him. Thomas was second generation in service to a family that fell afoul to the king. They had to sell some thralls to meet the king’s demands. I will also say, the woman of the house was sorry to see Thomas go. He was a good and faithful worker.

“I will do a good job for you,” Thomas said.

Kirstie acknowledged his pledge but turned to Gustavs. “I was there. I told Ulf and Odger to leave Howick alone, but they were stubborn.”

Gustavs nodded, having already heard that she was a shield maiden, before his eyes got suddenly big. “You were the woman who stood alone and faced down eight ships of men before the abbey of Lindisfarne. I heard the story.”

“And you disapprove?”

“The opposite. I am third generation Christian.”

Kirstie pulled out her little wooden cross and turned back to Lord Amber. He answered her before she could ask the question. “I took a small portion of your money from the hollow of the tree. I knew it was your desire to run the farm yourself and not depend on your friends, so I had people look for suitable help as they looked for suitable tenants.”

“Thank you,” she said, and pointed to Fiona’s house. “You may wish to fix it up a bit and rearrange things a bit, but that will be your quarters.”

“Just so you know,” Lord Amber continued. “These men are yours and work for you. They are like this farm, your property. Your husband has no claim on them, and he should not have been allowed to sell Fiona and the boys. They were not his to sell without your permission. You see, he waited until you were ready to go into labor to make the sale and took all the money to pay for his ship. You could force a claim on his ship if you have a mind to do so.”

Kirstie would have to think about that. “For now, let us begin on a good note. Welcome to all of you. May your days here be filled with joy and happiness. Now, I am tired, and my son needs to nurse.” She stood and went into the house hoping that everything would work out well.

~~~*~~~

By the time Kare came back from his maiden voyage, all three properties were being well run and productive. Kare began to count up what he could gather for trade goods, but Kirstie shot down that idea first thing. “These are not your properties. These are not your tenants and not your thralls. And you owe me thirty pieces of silver for Fiona and the boys.”

“I didn’t get that much,” Kare protested.

“You owe me thirty pieces of silver,” Kirstie repeated.

Kare looked at his son but did not touch him. He looked at Kirstie and she saw the look in his eyes. He wanted to hit her, but he thought better of it. He bellowed, “You are my wife.”

“I am not your thrall.”

Kare thundered and threw a chair across the room, breaking one leg against the wall, and he stomped out and stayed away for a week.

When he came home, Kirstie softened a little and honestly still tried to make it work, but it did not take much to set him off. Over the next three years, Kare stayed home about a third of the time. A third of the time he spent sailing off to who knew where. Roughly a third of the time he spent at Nidaros.

Kirstie heard that Kare bought a home in Nidaros and moved his girlfriend Randi into the place. She also heard he started hanging out with another girl named Thurid. Kirstie never threw their names in Kare’s face, though she was tempted often enough. Kirstie tried to make it work, but honestly, it got to where it did not take much to set her off either.

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

MONDAY

Yasmina has some thoughts about marriage and children, and Kirstie wants a divorce. Until then, Happy Reading

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Medieval 6: K and Y 2 Home, part 2 of 2

M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Come September, October, and November, when the leaves fell and the days turned cold, Kirstie lightened up on Kare. They had to share the same house and the same bed, and peace was better than war. Kare still threw fits now and then, especially after he discovered Bjorn the Bear’s beer recipe. He was not a happy drunk.

Kare spent much of his time with the shipbuilders. The rest of his time got spent examining the house and barn in every nook and cranny. It did not take long for Kirstie to figure out he was looking for whatever money, silver, or gold she had hidden. He found the beer recipe when he started tearing through the barn.

Kirstie had her bit of money safely hidden. It was not much since she bought those properties next to her own place, but just to be sure, she took what she had and deposited it with the elves who had no use for money. She figured it would not be safe with the dwarfs. They would likely melt down the metal to use for their own purposes. Also, the fairies might keep it, but the risk was too great that they might leave it lying around, unprotected, and accidentally forget about it.

Lord Amber put it in the hallow of a tree and covered it with spells designed to scare away any humans that got too close. He assigned a half-dozen young elves to watch it, which mostly they did. Kirstie said thank you and went straight home. The sky looked like it might snow.

Kirstie stayed home in January. She feared she might slip and fall where the ice covered the path to town. Besides, she started feeling very full, even if Inga still insisted her son would not be born until mid-March. Kare started to get anxious about something, but he would not say what. Sometimes, Kirstie imagined he cared about her and was anxious about her and the baby. Usually, she thought he was anxious about his ship. The builders stopped working about mid-November and would not start up again until after her baby was born. Whatever was bothering him, it only seemed to get worse as the time went on. And in winter, when people spent most of their time indoors, he was often around, brooding over something he refused to talk about.

Things came to a head around the first of March, when Kirstie felt ready to burst. Kare took Fiona and her three sons and sold them to a man in Aurland in Sygnafylki, a completely different province and a long way from Strindlos. He got drunk. He knew she would object, and he did not want to hear it. He hit her and knocked her down. Her hands went straight to her belly to calm her baby and make sure nothing got shaken too badly. She got up slowly. She caught his eye and even drunk, he realized he made a mistake. Kirstie’s words were very cold and directed. “If you ever raise your hand to me again, I will kill you.” He knew she meant it. She might do it, too.

“You just don’t understand,” he yelled, took his money, and left. He stayed in his rundown shack for the entire month of March. Kirstie gave birth on the sixth. She named the boy Soren Kareson, because Kare never even came to see or to name his son.

Much later, Kirstie found out Kare needed the money to make the last payment on his ship. Once the builders were paid, they went back to work and finished it in March. Apparently, some of the delay was waiting for Kare to finish paying for it. On the first of April, Kare gathered his crew and set out on his maiden voyage. “April fool,” Kirstie called him. After he left, she found out that while she was busy being pregnant with Kare’s child, Kare was off having secret rendezvous with a woman named Randi.

Randi came from the town at the mouth of the Nid River when the Vanlil attacked. She lost her young husband and her child when she escaped the fighting. She came to Strindlos with some others, but now most of them were returning to the new town of Nidaros. Maybe that was where the whole idea of migrating to Nidaros started. Kirstie hoped Strindlos would remain a viable village for as long as she lived, but there was no guarantee. If the king came to rebuild his house, he might insist Strindlos, the closest village, be abandoned so the people could fill his adjacent town. If the king built a fortress, he might not have to insist. People would flock to the protected town. Rune and Jarl already had land around the Nid River. The ship builders were mostly there as well. The rest of the people might not be far behind.

Hilda had a boy about a week after Kirstie. She named him Hodur Thorenson. Hilda was happy enough, though Thoren went off sailing with Kare. Thoren had been studying navigation and Kirstie did not imagine Kare would get very far without him. Curiously, Thoren never questioned her for her knowledge about the subject, not to say Kirstie was the only navigator in town.

About the time Hilda went into labor, Kirstie felt strong enough to step outside. She wrapped Soren carefully in plenty of blankets for warmth against the chill and walked to the cooking fires. Birdie introduced her dwarf friend Missus Kettle. Missus Kettle came down from the mountains, a volunteer to cook for the house now that Fiona was gone.

“Thank you,” Kirstie said. “Everything I have had so far has tasted wonderful.”

Missus Kettle grinned. “My husband and his friends, dwarfs you know, I don’t think they chew anything long enough to taste the food. I don’t mind cooking for someone who appreciates it.”

Kirstie smiled and turned to the lords of the woods and hills. Lord Bjork, king of the fairies was there with his wife, Bellflower, their daughter Buttercup, and her husband Meriwood. Booturn the chief dwarf and his crew of a half-dozen fellow dwarfs stood remarkably still and quiet, waiting their turn. Lord Amber and his wife Heather also stood with their daughter Yrsa and her husband Alm. Kirstie turned first to the fairies and Bjork spoke right up.

“The spring is upon us. The young ones have said good-bye to Mother Vrya and the Witcher Women. Buttercup may visit young Inga from time to time, but they have work to do in this world and we have let things go for too long. The grain is ready to be planted. The flowers are beginning to grow in the fields. The snow and ice are leaving the trees and there is much to do. I have told the young ones you will be much happier seeing us attending to the work given to us. We have let things go for too long.” He repeated himself.

“Yes, my friends,” Kirstie agreed. “We all have much to do.”

“We will not be far away if you should need us,” Lord Bjork said.

“The best of blessings on you and your son,” Lady Bellflower said, and they flew off to disappear among the trees.

“Booturn,” Kirstie called to him though he was right there. “Report,” she said, but she could not hold back the smile.

Booturn worried his hat as he spoke. “Me and the boys have done about all we can for your blacksmith, and now that the lady Fiona is moved on, we decided we better move on, too. We want to get back to some real forges and some real work before the dark elves down below come up and steal our things.”

“And don’t you steal theirs either.” Kirstie shook a playful finger at them.

“No. No Mum. Never dream of it…” The dwarfs answered.

“Besides,” Booturn continued. “Smithy Svend is talking about moving his operation to Nidaros, and it makes my feet tired just thinking about walking all that extra distance.”

“Go home, with my thanks and blessing,” Kirstie said. “I will keep Birdie and Missus Kettle for a while if you don’t mind.”

Booturn made a face which might have been a face of hardship, but which looked slyly like a face of relief and joy. He spoke of the hardship, like he was making a great sacrifice. “It won’t be easy without our womenfolk, but I can see you need the help most right now. They can stay as long as they have a mind. We will just have to make do.” He let out a great sigh, but it was not convincing.

“Go on,” Kirstie said. “Skat and have a safe trip home.” Kirstie had to think for a moment before it came to her. “And Booturn. Maybe your daughter will have a son you can leave the family tools to in the future.”

“A grandbaby son?” Booturn puffed out his chest like it was already a done deal. Kirstie looked at Birdie, but Birdie answered her unspoken question like she was reading Kirstie’s mind.

“My baby does not want her mother interfering. I’ll see the boy when she brings him for a visit, and then I’ll spoil him rotten and she will have to deal with that.” Birdie turned back to her loom without so much as a crack in her serious expression, but Missus Kettle grinned to think of it.

Booturn frowned and cleared his throat. “Come on boys,” he said, and they also vanished in the woods.

Kirstie turned to Lord Amber, but Amber pointed first to Vortesvin who stood there quietly, straw hat in his hand, which he pretty much tore to pieces while he waited. Kirstie imagined she saw a tear in the old troll’s eye. He seemed to be waiting for her to speak, so she did, though it broke her heart to say it.

“You know, you cannot follow Fiona and the boys. Fiona’s life will be but a breath of years, and the boys not much longer. As for Sibelius, though he will not live as long as a full blood troll, we may hope he will live long enough to see his father again.”

“I was good,” Vortesvin said. “I did not fight or anything when your man took them away.”

“You were very good, and I thank you for that.”

Vortesvin nodded and looked in the direction the dwarfs went. “I think I will go home to the mountains again. I will remember Fiona, and the boys, and my son, and be glad that I know what love is.” He wiped his nose with his arm and shouted, “Hey. Wait up,” and he crashed into the trees, running after the dwarfs.

Kirstie looked at Lord Amber again and wiped the tears from her eyes. Lord Amber smiled to be reminded just how much Kirstie loved all of her little ones, even the ones that were not so little. Then he thought he better speak.

“While you were busy with your new son, I took the liberty over this last month to seek out possible tenants for the two properties you bought. I was discreet.” He nodded at the path toward town. In the remarkable timing the little ones often displayed, Kirstie saw a small crowd coming up the path and headed toward the house.