Speculative Fiction

Medieval 5: K and Y 17 Surprises, part 1 of 4

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Kirstie

Fiona had her baby at the end of March. It was touch and go for most of the procedure but in the end, both Fiona and the baby would live. Fiona named the boy Sibelius and did not explain the name, except to say it was someone she met once, an old Finn that was good to her, and she admired. Besides, Vortesvin agreed, so Doctor Mishka shrugged and gave strict instructions to both Fiona and Inga. She gave them twice to Inga because she figured Fiona could not honestly concentrate. The women had one moment of panic when they realized the baby, being half-troll, would always be massively hungry. Fiona could not possibly nurse such a baby. But Danna, the Celtic mother goddess stepped in and changed Fiona in some way to where she could not only nurse the baby but discipline him as needed when he got older. No comment on the diapers.

Kirstie did not have much time to spend in the village center. She noticed at the end of April that their little bay filled with longships and strangers filled the area. They made space for a big tent camp to house them all. When things on the farm were about as well ordered as they could get, which was not well ordered at all, Kirstie dressed in her armor and weapons, brought a small sack of necessities, and headed toward the ships. She imagined she might sleep on board for a few days while the men got ready to go.

“What do you mean Jarl and Rune both sailed off with the first crew?” Kirstie asked when she arrived.

“They sailed with the first group, headed for the Coquet River,” Toke said. Toke was Harrold’s Skipari and sounded all business.

“You are sailing with us,” Kare said and grinned broadly.

“Captain Harrold carries a whip if you don’t pull your oar,” Thoren teased but Kirstie could not tell if he was joking or not.

Kirstie saw Yrsa walk up the plank and objected. “No. Not this trip. This trip will be too dangerous.”

“All the more reason I need to go,” she countered. “Besides, more dangerous than the last three hags?”

“Yes,” Kirstie said. “Far more dangerous.”

Yrsa shook her head. “I’ve been working out and practicing my rowing all winter.” She raised her arm and made a fist. “See? I have muscles.” It still looked like a skinny elf arm to Kirstie, but she sighed as Yrsa asked, “So where are we sitting?”

Kare and Thoren took them to their seats. Kirstie sat two seats from the front and Yrsa sat across the aisle from her. “Captain says if he puts you two women on the same side, that will make the side too weak, and the ship will go around in circles. Kirstie did not argue. She had no special pull with Captain Harrold Harroldsson, but she noted Thoren sat right behind Yrsa, so she charged him to keep an eye out for her and make sure the crew left her alone and treated her with respect.

Kirstie turned around. She had Kare seated behind her. “Don’t go breathing over my neck the whole trip,” she said as she stored her things.

“I’ll be dreaming about us being together,” he said.

“In your dreams,” she answered, even if he did not grasp the meaning behind that twenty-first century expression. After that, she did her best to ignore the man, and he kept most of his annoying and obnoxious comments to himself.

~~~*~~~

Yrsa and Kirstie quickly proved that they were seasoned sailors, willing and able to pull their fair share. Most of the crew accepted that and accepted them after the first day or two. There were a few who could not help the comments now and then, but none that got out of hand, mostly because Toke was all business. Harrold laughed right along with the rest of them when the comments got leud. But Toke made sure that did not happen often and for the most part, kept a lid on that kind of behavior.

They arrived at the cove above Howick on the coast of Northumbria just as the sun set. They anchored offshore where Kirstie noticed three other ships. Toke pointed to the ships one by one. “Captain Bo Erikson from Lagastein on the Frosta Peninsula. Captain Odger Haakonsson from Vigg. He is a mean one. Captain Ulf, you have met.” Toke looked at Kirstie, but she assured him.

“We met.” She made a fowl face and Toke nodded, satisfied.

At dawn, Kirstie turned to Harrold for one of the few times in the whole voyage. “I assume Yrsa, and I will be staying with the ship.”

Harrold looked at her and did not answer immediately, like he had to think about it. Finally, he said, “No.” He explained. “You can read a map and the movement of the sun, knowing north from south. You know about moving through the woods, like the woods by your home. I am told you also look very good in your blue and green dresses. I was thinking we could use you in this raid.”

“I am not walking through the woods in a dress.”

“I don’t expect you to. Get ashore,” he said, and went back to studying his map or whatever parchment he looked at.

When they got to shore, Kirstie found another woman among the men. Gunhild was a large woman, though not quite as tall as Kirstie, and she looked strong, though a bit blubbery. On a man, those arms would be muscle, probably old muscle, but they would not flap so much when the arm moved. Kirstie guessed that Gunhild was in her late forties. She claimed to have sailed with the men for more than twenty years, so Kirstie revised her estimate, thinking Gunhild might be in her early fifties. She presently sailed with Captain Bo Erikson; a man who looked like he was more inclined to trade than raid.

Captain Odger Haakonsson, the mean looking one, seemed more like Harrold. He was willing to trade often enough but he did not hesitate to take what he wanted, and if that involved killing a few of the reluctant traders, so be it. He came across as a man who was quick to take advantage of any weakness on the other side of the ledger and trade could become a raid if there was enough gold and silver involved.

Captain Ulf and his crew, by contrast, seemed the worst sort. Kirstie doubted they even bothered with trade goods. Ulf came across like the kind of man who looked for unsuspecting, minimally defended villages where he could loot and pillage. More like a pirate than a merchant. She imagined he especially liked monasteries and churches as easy targets.

Medieval 5: K and Y 16 Going Again, part 4 of 4

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Yasmina

“So, why did the Sharif let us go?” Aisha asked.

“I believe he had no choice.” al-Rahim answered. “He let us keep our weapons, which the Qarmatians did not expect. That saved our lives. He was probably threatened into turning us over to them, while at the same time, he figured if word got back to the Caliph that he was cooperating with the Qarmatians, he would probably lose his position and possibly his head.”

Yasmina interrupted. “This way, he can honestly tell the Qarmatians he gave us to their representatives, and we escaped because the Qarmatians were incompetent. At the same time, he can tell the Caliph that we are safe and sound and not in Qarmatian hands.”

“We suffered some injuries,” Aisha said.

“We don’t count,” al-Rahim told her. “Certainly, her guards Harun and al-Asad don’t count. Only Yasmina matters. They want her to marry one of al-Jannabi’s sons in order to have a legitimate claim on the holy cities that they already destroyed.”

“I don’t want to go back to a destroyed city,” Yasmina protested.

“Don’t worry,” al-Rahim said. “We are going down into Egypt.”

They traveled through Aqaba and crossed over to Suez where they picked up a caravan headed for Fustat. The merchants were kind to the young lady, her maid, and the three men hired to protect her on her journey. The merchants assumed that was the case, and they never told the merchants otherwise.

At this time, Yasmina began to come out of the protective bubble she had lived in her whole life. She began to talk to her guards Harun and al-Asad as individuals rather than appendages of al-Rahim. She watched the cooks as they prepared the meals. She learned a thing or two about cooking and even accepted one of the cooks as something like a friend. She learned how to saddle her own horse and generally began to show an interest in things other than herself.

“Are you feeling all right?” Aisha asked one day.

“I’m trying to grow up if that is what you mean,” she answered. “I have no home, nothing to go back to. My parents are gone. I could easily live in self-pity, crying all the time and feeling sorry for myself, or I can learn to be an adult and make a good life for myself. I dream about Kirstie. When she lost her parents, granted, she had a hag to worry about, but she did not give up. She had her house rebuilt, got some animals for her farm, got some laborers to keep the farm, and sailed off on adventures. She is so capable and confident. I am nothing but a spoiled little child.” Yasmina lifted her pendant which she wore all the time. She rubbed the amber in the middle and let a few tears fall.

Months later, Yasmina and Aisha came down the hall whispering to one another. Yasmina said, “He has been very kind to us to let us hide among his women.”

“The governor is older, and so are his women. You are young and fresh, and I think he is conflicted about what to do with you.”

“Why should he do anything with me?” Yasmina asked, and Aisha looked at her like she went stupid.

“You are young and quite beautiful. I see the smile on his face every time he looks at you, even if you don’t see it.”

“I assumed he was just a jolly old man.”

“Seriously? And you think seventeen is all grown up?”

“What?” Yasmina asked.

Aisha huffed in a very Yasmina way. “He would marry you, but he does not know what the Caliph may be thinking concerning you.” She stopped Yasmina in the doorway to the hall of the governor and tried to explain. “He is facing the Fatimids in the west where their leader, al-Mahdi, claims to be the true Caliph. The Fatimids have twice invaded Egypt and been beaten back. The Emir needs the support of the Abbasid Caliph in Baghdad for him to be able to hold the line against the Fatimids. He may have written to Baghdad suggesting he marry you to reclaim the holy cities, but his resources are limited to retake the holy cities as long as the Fatimids are pressuring him from the west.”

“What about the Qarmatians? They are east of Egypt,” Yasmina asked.

“Exactly,” Aisha said, then she explained a bit more. “The governor knows he cannot fight a war on both sides of Egypt. He needs the Caliph to fight the Qarmatians so he can stay focused on the Fatimids. The princess of Mecca and Medina, the sole surviving heir, is a delicate problem. The governor does not dare do anything that might anger the Caliph, if you follow what I am saying.”

“Oh,” Yasmina said, and turned to the door with another whisper. “You think I am beautiful?”

“You are every man’s dream of a true Arabian princess.”

“Thanks,” Yasmina said too loud though her smile. She had a second thought and frowned. “Makes me feel all Disney.”

Al-Rahim was already in the audience chamber, down on his knees before the throne. Harun and al-Asad knelt behind him. Aisha went straight to her knees. She sat on her feet, placed her hands in her lap, and looked at the floor. Yasmina remained standing, but she did bow before she spoke.

“My lord governor wished to see me?”

The governor, Takin al-Khazari looked at her and sighed. Given what Aisha just said, Yasmina imagined he might have preferred to see her without her veil and naked. He sighed again before he began to speak.

“Yes, my dear. We have a problem. You see, I am surrounded by enemies. In the west, the Fatimids have twice invaded the land, and though we drove them back, they are becoming stronger. South, the Aksumite empire, and other Christian kingdoms have limited our ability to move freely up and down the Nile and they have disrupted trade in the Red Sea and beyond. In the north, the Romans continue to resist the true faith, and they have a powerful navy and an army to contend with. And now, in the east, the Qarmatians are in the Hejaz and eyeing the riches of Egypt. You, my dear, pose a problem. I have written to the Caliph. I sent three separate letters with the hope that one might get through. That was months ago, and I have heard nothing in return.”

“Nothing?” Yasmina asked.

The governor shook his head. “Not nothing. I know that at least one of my letters was intercepted by the Qarmatians. They have sent emissaries. They have demanded to have you. I am to turn you over to them, or they say they will come and get you.”

“What can we do?” Yasmina asked, worried. “Those Isma’ili fanatics intend only evil. They are the Satan. They steal, kill, and destroy.”

“Do not worry, child,” the governor said. “I have no intention of giving you to them.” He waved to the side, but unlike the last time, instead of a half-dozen Qarmatians, one black man, probably a sheik, stood there smiling. He waved as the Emir spoke. “Mubarak is an Egyptian merchant whose caravan is ready to set out. I know only that he has contacts in the south, in Palestine, and in Alexandria and several cities on the north coast. I have not asked where he is going. I have written several letters to various cities, local lords, sheiks, and sharifs that answer to me, so wherever you end up, you should be treated well. But this way, when the Qarmatians ask where you have gone, I can honestly answer that I do not know. I can tell them you heard that they were asking about you, which you have now heard, and you left with a caravan headed for an unknown destination.”

The governor held out the letters and al-Rahim got up to accept them. Aisha also stood and took Yasmina’s arm. Yasmina said, “Thank you,” to the governor before she turned on al-Rahim. “What about our things?” They began to walk toward Mubarak who bowed to the governor before he turned to lead them.

“Come on boys,” Aisha said to the guards who came behind them.

“Your things are already packed, and the horses saddled with the bags full. We took care if it while you were walking the garden.

“But I need to go back and look,” Yasmina complained. “What if you missed something or forgot something?”

Aisha tightened her grip on Yasmina’s arm ready to drag her if necessary.

Medieval 5: K and Y 16 Going Again, part 3 of 4

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Kirstie

Kerga looked around the room and said, “The ships can sail separately and meet up in the cove above Howick, maybe in the night.” He looked at Kirstie and she frowned and thought good luck timing that. They would be seen no matter what they did.

“You can at least minimize their suspicion by traveling separately. Seeing only one or two ships together should not raise any serious alarms.” She added, “You know Fairhair will be blamed for the raid even if he has nothing to do with it. He won’t be happy. At the least he will demand the lion’s share of what you are paid.”

“We will deal with the king after the deed is done. First, let’s get paid or there won’t be any shares,” one of the strangers said.

“So, what have you planned?” Kirstie asked. The men looked at each other, but at least the men of Strindlos and Chief Kerga were not against sharing.

“Here,” Harrold said and pointed to the map. “Howick is a small village by a great cemetery and there is a manor house, wooden, like the king’s house used to be beside the growing town of Nidarosss. North of Howick is a sheltered area where we can bring our ships and hope to hide so the people of Howick are not alerted.” He paused to look around at the men before he continued. “We have mostly agreed that attacking a village on the shore will not bring out the army. That would just be a raid, and a terrible shame, but nothing the king can do about it. We need to march about a day inland and attack the village of Eglingham. An inland village will make it look more like an invasion, or at least like we are the vanguard of an invasion. That might move the army to come out.” He looked around at the men and saw no objections, but Kirstie shook her head.

“You think not?” Chief Kerga said to her.

“You have the right idea, making them think you are scouting the land for a possible invasion, but one village will still be seen as a simple raid, or maybe a clever raid where you go inland to a less well defended village. But you don’t want to kill the people. Invaders don’t necessarily kill the people they plan to rule. Better to chase them off so they run to the king in their panic.”

“But if an inland village will not be enough, what do you suggest?”

“Two inland villages,” she said, and did a quick head count. “You have six longships.”

“Maybe eight or more,” One of the other captains said.

Kirstie nodded to that. “Land in two places. Maybe the second place can be the mouth of the Coquet River. Leave ten men from each ship to guard the ships. A hundred raiders in each group should be enough for a typical village. March north in the night. Find a secluded place in the wilderness where you can rest and eat well before the action. The southern group can strike Edlingham. The northern group can strike Ellingham, right under the king’s nose. That should get his attention. Burn a few houses. Take whatever gold and silver you find. Run the people off, and quickly leave. Any soldiers will assume you marched straight from the shore. They will look for your ships here, along the coast below Bamburgh. and here, maybe at the mouth of the river Ain.”

The men were smiling, but Jarl asked, “Why leave so many at the ships?”

“Ten men per ship will be enough to defend the ships and maybe scare off the locals. In the worst case, ten men is enough to take the ships out to the safety of the sea. You can arrange a way to signal the ships at sea so they can come back in to pick you up if necessary.”

“Clarify again. Why chase off the people?” Rune asked. He was not objecting to the idea. He obviously wanted the other captains to understand, especially any who might let their men run wild and slaughter the whole village.

“You don’t want to get your own men killed fighting for a foreign king unless you are being paid extra.” She paused to let the captains think about that. “Besides, you want panic among the people. Survivors run in every direction and spread the word of an invasion. Some will no doubt run to Bamburgh to fetch the army and sew fear among the people there. Nobody will run anywhere if you kill them all. Burn a few houses, take some things, and chase off the people.”

“What about Rothbury? That is a good-sized place not far from Edlingham. They might send soldiers.”

Kirstie shook her head. “As I recall from my father’s notes, the Rothbury area is mostly Danish settlements. They will probably hesitate, and that is all you will need. Once the inland villages are ruined, the groups hurry back to Howick and the Coquet where your ships are located and sail off. You can rendezvous in the Farne Islands and regroup. From there, you can watch what happens in Bamburgh. If the army does not empty the city, we can relax and rethink. If the army moves out, as we hope, we can do some damage to the city and Cnut should be happy with that, and maybe generous. I would not try to take the city unless you have hundreds more men in mind than are presently represented here. Even without the army, the city will still be defended and will still have strong walls. But we might harass them and burn enough to disturb them.”

“Allow me to swallow my words,” Captain Ulf said. “That is exactly the plan we will follow.”

One of the other captains spoke. “I understand King Cnut plans to negotiate with King Eadwulf II of Northumbria and offer certain protections from Norse raids and an alliance against another invasion, like the invasion of Halfdan Ragnarsson. He hopes for certain concessions, to take half of the northern kingdom, in particular the coastal areas without ever engaging in a fight.”

The man’s number one finished the thought. “Once Cnut gathers his army at Rothbury, which is a strong Danish area as you say, he hopes to march to Bamburgh without resistance through the Anglo-Saxon areas that we have frightened so badly. He is hoping then King Eadwulf will bow to the inevitable and surrender his throne with a minimum of bloodshed. That way King Cnut can save his army for the future.”

Kirstie nodded, but said, “I am not concerned about the politics for now. As long as you understand that nothing ever goes exactly to plan, and it will depend on the leaders keeping their men in line. Now, I have an inevitable delay. I need a month. Two would be better.”

“King Cnut wants us to have accomplished our mission by the end of spring.”

“Fair enough. We sail on May first, and you better not leave without me.”

“You will be coming?” Harrold asked, though he knew she would come. She was the one who wanted to go to Northumbria.

“Another hag?” Jarl asked.

“No, the god of the hags,” she said. “And I may have to kill him.” She nodded to Inga, and they left the men to chew on what she said and do whatever it was that men did.

The only thing Inga said on the way back to Kirstie’s house was, “I see you tried to minimize the fighting and bloodshed.”

“These men were planning to go no matter what I said,” Kirstie agreed. “I tried to suggest the advantages of letting people live on both sides of the fight. It was the least I could do.”

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

MONDAY

Yasmina seeks refuge in Egypt, but the situation is delicate. Meanwhile, Kirstie has agreed to be part of a genuine Viking raid as her only way to get to Northumbria. Happy Reading.

*

Medieval 5: K and Y 16 Going Again, part 2 of 4

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Kirstie

Kirstie would not be going anywhere before spring, maybe late spring depending on how long Fiona carried. The woman would have to stay in bed for the last trimester. Any moving around would likely break her spine. Doctor Mishka checked her regularly and prayed the baby would favor his human side. The baby seemed like a real fifty-fifty, so she prepared to take him out with a cesarian section. Fortunately, she had some practice with Hilda’s baby, and knew Inga could assist.

The boys were excited, especially Edwin, the younger. He was happy to let someone else be the baby brother. Birdie harped on Booturn and said he should spend more time with his own children. He did. In fact, he got drunk any number of times with his daughter’s husband, who was plenty full grown. But he went up into the mountains to do that while Birdie stayed and knitted wool outfits for the baby.

“Hard to do when you don’t know what size, exactly,” Birdie said. “But the wool stretches some, so we hope.”

Kirstie just nodded. She seemed to nod a lot since she got home. The shipbuilders wanted to clear a stand of trees on her land. She nodded. The elves in the woods all but adopted Oswald and Edwin, and Alm took them hunting regularly. They were always good to ask first, and she nodded. Some of the fairy tribe asked sweetly if they could move closer to Inga and the Witcher Women. Kirstie nodded, but she thought it best if they avoid being seen by other than Inga and maybe Mother Vrya.

“But we already made friends with the women,” Buttercup told her.

Kirstie nodded and said, “But no one else if you can help it.” She said if they can help it so they could have an excuse if it happened, or maybe when it happened.

Finally, near the end of March, when Fiona reached the baby could come at any time point, Inga came to fetch Kirstie for what Inga was told was an important meeting.

“All three captains Harrold, Jarl, and Rune are there with Chief Kerga.”

“Yeah,” Kirstie grumped. “Rune was not going anywhere, and he sailed off as soon as I sailed out of the fjord with Jarl.”

Inga ignored Kirstie’s complaint. “I do not know what the meeting is about, but there are three other captains there with their skipari. Two are from the far north. I think one is from Maerin. The third is from Vigg in the Skaun. He is an ugly one. They are planning something big and looking at a map when they argue.”

Kirstie did not think that sounded good. She imagined all sorts of terrible things before she asked, “What do they want me for?”

“That is what I would like to know.”

When they arrived at the big house, the men quieted for a minute. Kirstie marched in with Inga. She came dressed in her armor, which she had taken to wearing regularly because it felt so comfortable. She had a knife at her side, but no other noticeable weapons on her person. She knew she could call to her weapons, and they would come to her from Avalon, the island of the Kairos in the Second Heavens where they were kept, so she did not worry about that.

“What is this all about?” she asked and pushed up to the table where the men were worrying around the map. It was a map of Northumbria. She had a similar one among her father’s navigation papers.

“You said you were interested in going to Northumbria,” Jarl said.

Kirstie paused to look at the men. One mean looking man stood next to Captain Harrold. A very tall man stood next to the mean one, and she had to stare for a second to figure something out. Kirstie once estimated that she stood about five feet, nine inches tall, which was very tall for a woman. It made her more man sized and taller than some men. This overly tall man had to be a foot taller than her, so maybe six feet, nine inches. He would have to crouch in battle formation. Anyone tall enough to stick out above his fellows that much would become an excellent target for any archers on the opposing side.

Harrold saw her staring and thought to introduce the two men. “Captain Ulf and his skipari, Njal the giant.” Kirstie checked. He might have had some giant blood in him somewhere, she would not know, but she imagined he was just a very tall man. Certainly, he had no troll or ogre in him. Besides, Vortesvin the troll had to be another foot and a half taller than Njal, and with the human-like glamour the elves managed to place around the beast, she knew better what a real giant looked like. As for Captain Ulf, she translated the name in her head to Wolf, and from his looks she imagined he probably was. She turned to Chief Kerga without blinking, like she hardly cared. “What is this all about?”

“The men were hoping you could get in touch with Elgar the Saxon. They are looking at Northumbria, particularly the northern part that remains in Anglo-Saxon hands. They were wondering if Elgar might have or be able to get some inside information about the place, or about the coast.”

Kirstie shook her head like that did not answer her question and Rune spilled the beans, so to speak. “The new Danish king in York wants to reunite the two halves of Northumbria under his crown. He is willing to pay us a considerable sum to raid the coast there to bring out the army in Bamburgh. We just need to scare the villages enough to shake them up. Panic would be better, and we get paid.” Rune opened the small chest on the table. It looked full of silver coins. Kirstie picked one up to examine it.

“Siefried Rex,” she read on the coin.

“Cnut is king now,” Captain Ulf said.

Kirstie dropped the coin and turned on the man. “So, why didn’t King Cnut ask the King in Denmark for help? He could ask the Danish kings in Danelaw for help, especially if his plan to begin with only involves a raid to frighten the people.”

Ulf stared at her. “Why are we talking to this girl?” he asked.

Jarl and Rune jumped, and to his credit Chief Kerga and even Harrold looked ready to defend her presence, but one of the stranger captains began to speak first before Ulf cut him off and Inga spoke into the silence.

“Because even at her young age she has more military experience than you could hope to have if you lived ten lifetimes, and she is friends with the gods.”

Ulf appeared to chew on his tongue for a minute before he confessed. “Because Cnut killed the old man, Siefried and took the crown. He is ambitious, but he does not like leaving an Anglo-Saxon kingdom at his back. Twenty-five years ago, Halfdan Ragnarsson overran the northern kingdom, but he did not finish the job, and he left Lindisfarne relatively untouched, so the anchor of the English remained. Cnut wants to drive the English above the River Tweed and out of the kingdom altogether. Once the northern kingdom is fully Danish and a buffer between him and the wild north, he can take his army and do whatever he wants. The king in Denmark and the kings in the Danelaw have refused to support the usurper, as they think of him.”

“So, he turned to the people of Harald Fairhair, but not to the king. He is looking for the men of Trondelag to do his dirty work and enticing them with silver and gold,” Kirstie concluded. “I assume none of you wants the king informed.”

“This is not the king’s business,” Captain Harrold said.

“A little private enterprise.” Kirstie named it and looked more closely at the map. “You know they will have coastal watchers, and if you are seen at sea they will prepare for your arrival. One or two ships sailing together might be peaceful traders, but six or seven ships seen together will scream raiding party and they will certainly prepare to fight you.”

Medieval 5: K and Y 16 Going Again, part 1 of 4

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Kirstie

Kirstie got to do some serious thinking on the voyage home. It occurred to her that Abraxas would not be giving up. The church covered much of Europe, but there were still pockets of paganism and other religions vying for the people’s attention. The right Gael could go to Spain where Christianity and Islam struggled. Frisia, and Flanders would be easy targets with the right bloodline. He could try Brittany again like he did in Margueritte’s life, or maybe southern Francia around Septimania or Provence, like Arles, though she remembered he tried that once already. Denmark would be easy. He could send a Dane, an Angle, or a Jute to the Jutland peninsula. She worried herself to no end.

She knew better than to try to get Jarl to turn to the English shore, though she did ask him several times. She even suggested he could drop her off and leave her there. Jarl shook his head. “Inga, Mother Vrya, and maybe your giant and other friends might never forgive me.” At least he was talking to her pleasantly again.

“Maybe after you are home, like in a few months, like after the winter?” Kirstie suggested.

Jarl shook his head and Leif looked up because he was never far away and always listening. Jarl spoke plainly. “I am thinking about the town that was at the mouth of the Nid River. The Vanlil killed half the town, and most of the rest fled and settled in with family in other villages. There is plenty of good land there, cleared, and ready to plant. I’m thinking with what we made on this trip I may buy some of it. My younger brother and his young family could move there to keep it and live well.”

Leif interrupted. “I heard the king is offering to pay to repair the docks there, and the shipbuilders are talking about moving their drydocks to that place.”

“But they agreed to build Kare’s ship,” Kirstie said. She knew that much.

Jarl understood but countered her words. “It may be the last ship they build in Strindlos. The town at the Nid mouth is only a day away, and with help from the king, many may go there to rebuild the place. We have an advantage being as close as we are, but I figure we need to move soon and stake our claim before the others come.”

“Lots of people are talking that way,” Leif said. “Maybe the whole village will go there.”

“And, I expect the king will eventually rebuild his house, and probably with stone this time, like a fortress. That will cause even more people to go there to shelter under the protection of the king.” Jarl shook his head for Kirstie. “I have enough to keep me busy for at least the next year. I’m sorry. Besides, we did our hag, and good men died, and Rune did his and more died. I figure it is Harrold’s turn.”

Kirstie curled her lip at the idea of sailing with Harrold but nodded. She did not want to go anywhere on Harrold’s ship. The man upset her, burning churches and monasteries. But mostly, Kare would be aboard the ship, and she did not want to be in such close quarters with him for maybe months.

When they pulled into the dock at Strindlos, Inga came with Mother Vrya. Poor Mother Vrya looked like she was ageing rapidly. She walked with a cane. Hilda was there, with Kare’s friend Thoren of all people, and Alm came, but he kept a couple of steps back from the crowd. Husbands and sons hugged wives and mothers. Some wives and mothers wept when they found out some men died on this voyage. Honestly, Yrsa and Kirstie wanted to cry with them, but Mother Vrya indicated there was some urgency.

“Lind and Gruden came from the king. They heard some dwarfs came down from the mountain to work in the forges. No telling who talked, but they said that only the Kairos could get dwarfs to cooperate in anything. I would not have guessed Lind or especially Gruden even knew the word Kairos. Anyway, the blacksmith and his people admitted nothing. Chief Kerga said nothing, but they went to a few of the outlying farms and seemed to focus on yours.”

“Everyone there seemed human and normal enough,” Inga added. “They have no reason to suspect you except you being a shield maiden is most unusual. I told them your father was a navigator who died in Francia, and you learned navigation from him. That made you a valuable member of any crew. I think they bought it.”

“Are they still here?” Kirstie asked.

“No,” Mother Vrya said. “But they will be back. They spoke with Chief Kerga about moving the whole village to the mouth of the Nid.”

“Nidarosss. Nid mouth,” Kirstie named the town.

“The king wants the town re-founded,” Inga interjected.

“Kerga said he would think about it.”

Kirstie sent up a little prayer that she might live this life without being found by whomever was looking for her—servants of the masters, no doubt. She stopped to hug Hilda and glanced at Thoren whom she thought of as the nice one. “So, are you married yet?” she asked.

Hilda pretended shock, but Thoren said the truth. “Not yet.” He seemed happy about the prospect, and so did Hilda so Kirstie did not mind.

At the last, Kirstie turned to Alm. Yrsa had already run ahead and loved on him, so Alm was ready to speak when she arrived. Without any fanfare or anything to prepare her, the elf said, “Fiona is pregnant.” Kirstie was shocked, especially when he added, “Vortesvin.”

“Humans are not made to carry troll babies,” Kirstie protested. “What was she thinking?” Kirstie did not bother to ask what the troll was thinking. She started to walk toward home. Inga and Mother Vrya had their hands full with the grieving women. Yrsa and Alm began to follow Kirstie, but Kirstie nixed that. “Yrsa, you need to go to the big house and make sure we get a fair share each. Tell Captain Jarl and Leif I will haunt them if they don’t do right by the families that lost loved ones.”

Yrsa nodded, took Alm by the hand and led him to the big house. Kirstie walked alone on the road to her house until the very end when Buttercup caught her. Mariwood stayed back and looked pensive. “Lady don’t yell. Please. Pleasy-please. They are liking each other very much, and Vortesvin is good to the boys. Even Birdie likes the troll, and I never thought I would in a billion years, but so do I. Fiona is a nice lady and a friend. Please.”

“Humans are not built to carry troll babies,’ Kirstie repeated herself and pushed passed the fairies. She walked right passed the cooking fire and the ladies there, continued passed the cows where Vortesvin and two human disguised elves were fixing the fence, and she came to the trees where she stopped just inside the forest edge. She screamed just as loud and long as she could. Thanks to Njord’s gift she could take an inhumanly big breath. She screamed a long time. She felt sure that was not what Njord had in mind. She smiled and rubbed her throat when she came back out from the trees and said in a hoarse voice, “There. Now I feel better.”

Medieval 5: K and Y 15 The Norman Hag, part 3 of 3

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Yasmina

Al-Rahim found an out of the way farm in Petra that he could rent for some work in the fields. As he explained to the princess, “It just would not be safe staying in territory that was controlled by your father.” Yasmina said she understood.

Al-Rahim bought a few older slaves for the bulk of the work and hoped to come out about even by the end of their time there, however long that might be. Two men worked in the fields, and the guards helped. One old woman took responsibility to cook and clean for the house. Aisha planted a garden and helped keep the house as well. Al-Rahim spent much of his time cultivating spies among the old Nabataeans and Ghassanids that populated the province. He did not want events to catch him by surprise.

They all told the princess that she did not have to do anything, but Yasmina got bored very quickly. She helped Aisha in the garden and did not kill all the plants. She learned something about cooking, cleaning, and even learned to sew, though she was not very good at any of it. At least she rode about every other day, and Aisha and one of the guards always rode with her. She also practiced her swordplay and her archery skills when she was not riding, so both she and her horse got plenty of exercise. Mostly it was something to do.

After some months, when the Caliph appointed Sharif of the territory heard about the strangers in the old lingering town of Petra, they were called to an audience to give account for themselves. Al-Rahim made them pack everything like they might permanently leave that place. “I hope we will be able to return here, but we cannot count on that,” he said.

“Maybe the Sharif will provide a better living arrangement,” Aisha suggested.

Yasmina thought, Maybe the Sharif will throw us in jail, but she did not say that out loud.

On the way, al-Rahim explained.

“Petra used to be a great city, a trade center for the whole region.”

“Honestly?” Yasmina asked.

“That was maybe five or six hundred years ago.”

“It looks like it fell apart five hundred years ago,” Aisha said.

“Our house looks like it was built six hundred years ago,” Yasmina agreed.

“The fall apart happened slowly over the years,” al-Rahim continued. “Palmyra in the Syrian desert eventually took over the land trade from the east. Caravans met in Palmyra as the only safe way across the Syrian desert to go to the coastal cities like Antioch or in Lebanon. Meanwhile, trade from Arabia, the Hejaz, the coasts of India and Africa began to come up the red sea, to Aqaba, if they were headed into Palestine or the port of Gaza, or to Suez if they were headed into Egypt or to Egyptian ports. Petra slowly died to the point where it is hardly a town, and one struggling at that.”

“Why did you bring us here?” Yasmina asked, honestly curious.

“I thought we could hide and not be disturbed. No one cares these days what goes on in Petra. People are leaving here, not coming here.”

“But now you are not so sure,” Aisha suggested.

Al-Rahim shook his head. “I did not expect the Sharif to notice, much less summon us to an audience.”

“I have a bad feeling about this,” Aisha said.

“As do I,” al-Rahim agreed.

“Me too,” Yasmina said, and they both looked at her wondering when she began to pay that much attention to anything. But then, Aisha knew the Kairos had resources even al-Rahim would not believe.

Al-Rahim spoke when they arrived for the audience. He gave his name, Muhammad al-Rahim and so on. Yasmina really did not listen until he introduced her as the Princess of Mecca and Medina and Aisha as her maid servant.

The old Sharif looked at them carefully before he spoke. “I understand why you came here. The Qarmatians sacked Mecca and Medina even as they despoiled Syria and Mesopotamia some years ago. They are mad men, fanatics. But they will not come here. We are too strong for them.”

“As you say. We must wait until the Caliph can raise enough men and arms to retake the Holy Cities. Then we can return home, but not before.”

“I heard they took the black stone from Mecca.”

“No…” Yasmina could not believe it. “My father would never let them despoil the holy relics.”

The Sharif looked sympathetically at Yasmina, but al-Rahim waved off whatever the Sharif was about to say. The Sharif said instead, “Child. You have nothing to fear. You will be married and have plenty of wonderful children, I am sure.” The Sharif waved and several men came from behind a curtain. “It is a small price to pay for peace in this territory.”

“Qarmatians,” al-Rahim yelled. He and his guards all drew their swords, but two of the six men already went down from Aisha’s arrows. Al-Rahim and his guards made quick work of three more Qarmatians who were not prepared for any real resistance, like maybe they expected the Sharif to disarm his guests before holding audience. The last man grabbed at Yasmina, but she called defender which appeared in her hand, and she stabbed the man in the arm. Then she called for her armor. as the angry man tried to hit her. He hit chain mail and probably broke his hand, though he knocked Yasmina to the floor. Aisha stabbed that man in the back and Yasmina called for Defender. The long knife vacated the man’s arm and flew back to her hand.

One guard had a cut in his hand. The other had a cut in his thigh. Al-Rahim and Aisha were untouched. Yasmina only had a sore butt. She landed hard. Al-Rahim spoke to the Sharif. “You did your job. Too bad the Qarmatians sent such incompetent men.” Al-Rahim gave slight bow and turned them all to the door. The Sharif played with his beard. He said nothing. His own guards around the room did not move and did not try to stop them. They ran to their horses which were still in the courtyard. They rode off into the west. No telling what the Sharif told the Qarmatians, or if he would remain Sharif for long.

“A bit slow on calling to your armor,” Aisha pointed out.

“Don’t rub it in,” Yasmina said and rubbed her hurting behind. She took that moment to get a great idea. She traded places with Greta, the wise woman and healer from Dacia.

Aisha asked with her eyes.

Al-Rahim, who noticed everything, and also happened to be glancing back in case of pursuit saw the blonde hair and said, “Kirstie?” He did not blink or raise his voice or anything, like he already figured something like this was inevitable.

‘Greta.” she gave her name. “I know how to ride, and I am a healer. When we stop, I have a couple of guardsmen to look at. Besides, Yasmina hurt her butt.”

“Greta,” Al-Rahim said. “Even more complicated than I thought.” Greta and Aisha both nodded but said nothing as they all concentrated on getting out of town.

It was not until after they stopped, and Greta fixed up the wounded as well as she could, that Yasmina came back and added everything up in her mind. She got teary eyed and looked at al-Rahim. “My mother and father are dead?” she asked, but it was said like a statement.

“I’m sorry Princess,” al-Rahim responded softly. Then he hugged her and let her cry.

Kirstie

Jarl was not happy with Kirstie, to say the least. He had some good silver, so the crew had no complaints on that score, but they grieved heavily for the loss of their friends. Kirstie and Yrsa were right there grieving with them, and while she was at it, Kirstie cried for Yasmina and the loss of her parents.

“Now she is an orphan like me,” Kirstie said, and Yrsa cried with her.

As close as Jarl and Kirstie came to an understanding after that was just before they docked in Bremerhaven.

“What?” Kirstie asked. “You knew going after a hag would be dangerous. I am as upset as you are. They were my friends too.”

“I think I became too obsessed with the amber and the ivory and getting rich.”

“In the end, they are only commodities like anything else we carry, and they are only worth what someone is willing to pay for them. Sir Waldo, and Bremerhaven have farm tools and only offer a bit of silver. Honestly, the farm tools are worth much more than some walrus tusks and tree resin.”

Jarl sighed and mostly nodded.

Captain Otto hugged Kirstie. Sir Waldo also hugged her and said, “I believe Lady Kristina is determined to make me rich.”

Tulip, the fairy queen who appeared in her big size said, “Rich is nice, but better is living a life worth living.”

Tulip and Sir Waldo hit it off and Tulip asked if Kirstie would mind if she visited the man from time to time.”

Kirstie just hugged her and told her to follow her heart.

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

MONDAY

Kirstie need to pay attention to her home but soon enough she will need to sail to Northumbria to confront Abraxas himself. Until next week, Happy Reading

*

Medieval 5: K and Y 15 The Norman Hag, part 2 of 3

M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Kirstie

Kirstie blinked. “Kirstie,” she said. “I’m a Christian too.” She pulled out her little wooden cross to show.

“Wilam,” he answered, and examined the cross carefully even if it was plain as can be.

“Wilam Halfdan,” the old man named the young one.

“Kristina Arnedottir.” Kirstie named herself as Wilam blinked.

“And the old man is Captain Olaf.”

“I’m not that old.”

Kirstie shook her head and looked away from Wilam as she spoke. “I killed the hag in Scandinavia, and the one in Saxony. I’m here to kill this one.”

“Oh, that would be very dangerous,” Wilam said.

Yrsa interrupted. “My Lady can be stubborn.”

Skarde interrupted the interruption. “We are as ready as we can be.”

Kirstie looked around at all the men who were looking at her. She pulled herself together as she walked to the door, Wilam on her tail. She handed Wilam her sword. She handed Captain Olaf her long knife and drew her axe and grabbed her shield off her back. The shield, a bit bigger than an ancient round Roman cavalry shield, had a dull red circle around the edge, a dull blue circle in the middle with a bright white star painted in the very center. “Try not to kill any innocent civilians unless they attack you. Self-defense is acceptable, but you will likely have to focus on the soldiers and mercenaries. Ready?” She did not give them any time to answer.

Kirstie burst out the front doors and some hundred and thirty men filed out after her. They stopped on the front steps. The square was covered, all exits blocked by at least three hundred well-armed soldiers. The men were reluctant to attack trained men holding spears and pikes with only chair and table legs. Besides, the hag stood in the midst of them and took everyone’s attention, towering over her men like a bear or a hairy giant.

“Kairos. You are too late,” the hag said.

“I don’t see the Ass here,” Kirstie responded.

“The invitation has been sent. He will be here shortly and all the continent will be his.”

“That is a long stretch from a little port on the coast of France to all the continent,” Kirstie answered.

“Perhaps, but it is inevitable. Abraxas is the one true god, and unlike my sisters, you see there is no great water handy in this place.”

“The fountain,” Kirstie said, but the fountain dribbled at best, and the hag laughed.

“So, what are you, like the three witches in Macbeth? No, more like the Sanderson sisters in Hocus Pocus. You know I killed your sisters in Norway and Saxony.”

“Lady,” Yrsa whispered loudly. “Don’t provoke her.”

The hag stepped forward into the open space between the men on the steps and the soldiers but stopped when Kirstie raised her battleaxe and shield and said, “You know my weapons were not made by men.”

The hag roared. “You are as nothing, just another stinking mortal. Anyway, it doesn’t matter. It is too late.”

A great light that became almost as bright as the sun slowly entered the courtyard. as it grew in strength, all the men present had to cover their eyes. Yrsa was not bothered by looking directly into the sun. Kirstie could do that as well, and she could certainly handle this light because the light was not pure luminescence. Abraxas was not a sun god, so in the place of pure light, Abraxas’ light shone with the sense of awesome majesty and power, the kind that would cause ordinary men to fall to their knees, or their faces in abject terror and worship. Most of the men did that very thing. The Christian men maybe did not go to their knees, but they did have to close their eyes and turn away. Even Carrots and the gnomes trembled. Kirstie just lowered her axe and frowned.

Before Abraxas could fully manifest in his moment of glory, Kirstie found herself set aside and Danna, the mother goddess of the Celts and of Gaul, the very land she was standing on, came to stand in Kirstie’s shoes. “He was warned,” she said generally to whomever heard. “He was told to set foot on the continent would be his death.”

Abraxas caught a glimpse of who was waiting for him, and he shrieked, sounding remarkably like Leif. He vanished, no doubt going back to Northumbria. Thus it was, in Ancient Egypt when Osiris banished Set from upper Egypt, Set tried to get the people of Abydos and Thebes to build him temples and invite him to return to the land. He thought a human invitation might outweigh the god’s decision. That debate among the gods never got settled. Clearly, Abraxas did not want to test it. He knew Danna owned that place and would have power over him in any case. It just was not safe.

“What? How? What happened to the girl? Who are you?” The hag sounded remarkably like Carrots, and like an astonished little old lady, even if she appeared like a monster.

“Your end,” Danna said. Danna’s primary element was fire, the fires of the earth, and the molten metal that her dark elves and some of her dwarfs loved so dearly. She simply waved her hand and the hag caught fire. “Away,” she said, and the hag flew instantly to the sea where she screamed and melted to wash out on the tide. “End of story,” Danna said, and remained aware that the people and soldiers would come quickly from the enchantment. She showed just a bit of her own divinity to keep the soldiers and pagan men inclined to want revenge on their knees.

“Captain,” she called to the mercenary captain. He appeared before her, still shaking his head from the enchantment. “You and your men are supposed to be in a battle that is ten miles in that direction.” She pointed and he looked. “Prepare yourselves,” she said as her only warning, and waved her hand. All the soldiers disappeared and reappeared ten miles away in the midst of the battle.

“Harbor Master and Loudmouth,” Danna called, and the two men appeared before her, each holding out a piece of amber. The harbor master immediately turned on the Loudmouth.

“You said they only hid the one piece of amber.”

Loudmouth looked sheepishly at his employer and finally did not know what to say. Danna spoke for him. “No more stealing in the name of confiscation or anything else. If you find some hidden goods not listed on the inventory, you must add them to the list and deal honestly with the merchants or I will send you somewhere you don’t want to go.” She let them glimpse a little hellfire.

“Please. Mercy.” Both men fell to their knees and cried out.

“Here is my decision. These men came here in good faith, and you have all of their goods they hoped to sell. Since you have already seen fit to resell some of their things, there is no point in returning their items. Therefore, you will pay for the items at the preferred price. Both of you will become beggars until you can sell some more. and, furthermore, since together you do not have enough gold and silver to fully cover the costs, the money will beggar the guilds as well. Half of the amber and ivory will be returned to Captain Hagenson because even all the guild coins are not enough. The rest of these men will return to their ships where they will find the silver and gold waiting for them. It will be up to you two and the guild masters to decide how to sell the remaining goods and recoup your money. It is so.” She waved her hand and the two men disappeared, presumably going back to where they came from.

“Captains,” Danna said, talking to all four ship captains at once. “You have been paid for your cargo. It may not be as much as you wanted, but it is more than you might have expected. Please leave this town in peace, and Wilam, Kirstie hopes that she may see you again.”

Jarl Hagenson found the courage to say something that was on all their minds. “I’ve lost a third of my crew.”

“I am sorry for your losses,” Danna said and vanished, letting Kirstie come back and face the men.

The Danish captain spoke first. “I’m glad we did not have to fight them with pieces of furniture.” The captain from Wessex said nothing. They simply left. Captain Olaf smiled for her.

“Thank you. We were sure to all be killed if we did not convert.”

“You’re welcome,” Kirstie said, but honestly, she was still processing what all just happened.

“My Skipari here is Brant Svenson. Wilam is my navigator, though he is just twenty-two and still learning the ropes.”

Kirstie suddenly looked at the young man and smiled. “I’m a navigator as was my father.”

Wilam returned her smile. “I hope to see you again as well.”

What Danna said caught up to Kirstie’s brain. “How could I do that to myself?” She looked up at the clouds or the heavens. “That was mean.” She looked at Wilam. “Sometimes I don’t like myself very much.”

“So, I take it what the lady said was correct.”

Kirstie growled at him. “Yes. Maybe. Come on Yrsa, back to the ship.” She raised her voice. “Thank you, Carrots and all of your friends.” She marched off without looking at Wilam. “Come on Old Man Skarde, you are falling behind.”

Medieval 5: K and Y 15 The Norman Hag, part 1 of 3

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Kirstie

Kirstie, Yrsa, and Skarde came to the village center, stopped, and quickly scooted behind the edge of a building. Skarde tried to keep the women behind him which annoyed Yrsa, but Kirstie thought that was cute. Mercenary soldiers escorted Jarl, who had a wound in his shoulder, Leif, and two of the men that went with them to the guild hall. One of those men appeared to be bleeding from his leg, but he kept up well enough.

“We need to find out where they are being taken,” Kirstie whispered. Yrsa and Skarde looked at her like they knew that, and she did not need to state the obvious.

Kirstie thought for a moment while she looked at the vegetable garden behind the house on the square. “Carrots,” she said.

Skarde glanced at the garden. “More than likely,” he said.

“Carrots,” she said, and added, “I need to see you.”

A garden gnome slowly manifested, and he looked and sounded disturbed. “Who? What? How did this happen?”

“I need your help,” Kirstie said, but the gnome was having none of it.

“I don’t do favors for dusty doodles.” He showed his most disturbed face before he caught a glimpse of Yrsa. He whipped off his hat and changed his temperament in a blink. “Greetings skinny princess.” He bowed.

“Princess?” Skarde said and pointed at Yrsa who shrugged before the gnome interrupted.

“I know a princess when I see one, you exceptionally dirty bit of old dust.” the gnome grumped before he smiled for Yrsa. “Did you call for me? Being visible and all, I can’t hardly get my work done.” He spoke to Yrsa like a father to a simple child.

“Lady?” Yrsa turned to Kirstie.

“Carrots,” Kirstie said. “I called you.”

“You?” the gnome’s face slowly changed as he realized who he was talking to. He wrinkled his hat, offered his best bow, and stuttered. “How-ho-how can I help-he-help you?”

Kirstie smiled for the little one. “I need to know where the human prisoners from the ships are being kept. You can go invisible and insubstantial if you like so you stay safe. I don’t want to worry about you.”

The gnome got a big grin thinking that his goddess would worry about him. “But that is easy,” he said. “They got big cages in the town hall. I know, because we have some night spooks living underneath that complain they can’t get any day rest with so many noisy, smelly men over their heads.”

“Town hall?” Kirstie asked and pointed at the building on the other side of the central fountain.

“That’s the place. They got a side door if you want to get in unseen.”

Kirstie patted the gnome on the head. “I’m not sure letting the neighbor’s rabbits out to eat the lady’s vegetable garden is nice, but you know your work and I won’t interfere. Maybe, though, your wife will fix something special tonight for the evening meal.” She blew the gnome a kiss and let him go invisible and insubstantial again.

“That was interesting,” Skarde said.

“The world is full of life,” Kirstie said. “There are little ones everywhere. It gives me a headache to think how many there are. So, Yrsa…”

“This way,” Yrsa smiled and led them back down the street and around the corner toward the town hall side door. She did get out her bow, just in case.

They passed a few people on the way. The town was hardly deserted, but they were ignored so they did not think much about it. When they arrived at that side door, they found Carrots and four other gnomes waiting for them.

“We thought we might help a bit more,” Carrots said.

“I can’t imagine,” Skarde said, looking down on the little crew, the tallest being just shy of three feet tall.

One of the gnomes touched the door, and they heard the locks click open. Two of the gnomes went insubstantial and walked right through the closed door. A moment later, one stuck his head back out through the wall and said all looks safe. It was just the gnome’s head sticking through a solid wall. It felt a bit disconcerting to see.

The other gnome opened the squeaky door a crack, banged once on the hinges, and opened the door wider without the squeak. “Like they won’t hear the bang,” Kirstie whispered her mumble.

Carrots and his two gnomes butted in front, knives drawn, though one knife looked like a trowel. “Shhh!” Carrots insisted. “Quiet,” he said a bit loud. They immediately saw the cages even as they heard some deep growls. “Hund. Placate the dogs.” Carrots said, and Hund with another gnome went to do that very thing. Carrots and his two gnomes, with Yrsa, looked everywhere for a human guard who would not be satisfied as easily as a dog. Skarde and Kirstie had their eyes on the cages. There were four of them, big ones holding about thirty men each, and the men in those cages said nothing, but stared at their unlikely rescuers.

Kirstie called once again to her armor and became clothed in all sorts of weapons. Several men in three cages let out sounds of surprise and astonishment, but Leif whispered. “Kirstie. Over here.”

Kirstie quickly counted thirty men. She figured she lost a quarter of her crew in whatever struggle they had with the locals before they surrendered. Carrots touched the lock and it fell away. She glanced at Jarl, but he just gave her mean looks, so she moved on.

“Get what weapons you can find, or whatever can be used as a weapon. We may have to fight our way out of here.” She looked again at Jarl, but he just returned her growl. She moved on. “Christians?” She asked the next group, and the man nodded. “Where from?”

“Devon, er, Wessex. We brought wool and grain, and ten head of cattle…”

“I am sure,” Kirstie interrupted. “Carrots,” she said, and the gnome removed the lock.

“Danes?” She asked the next group. The man by the gate nodded.

“And anxious to return their kindness.”

Kirstie nodded but ignored the comment. She said, “Pagan, Christian, Pagan, Christian. Sort of like boy, girl, boy, girl. I’m guessing the hag wanted you to talk to each other and make you doubt your faith. It is in the doubt that a hag can slip in with word of a living god, Abraxas.”

“So she said,” the man in the next cage spoke. Kirstie nodded to the man—young man, but she was not finished with the Danes.

“You Danes need to take the left side of the square and the broad road to the docks. Leif.” She raised her voice, though Leif was not far away. “You need to take the right side.” He nodded. Kirstie pointed to the Danish lock, so Carrots unlocked it. “Christians down the middle.”

She got to the last cage and the young man smiled for her. “We are Christians, mostly Anglo-Saxons from Northumbria.” He raised his hand like a child telling the absolute truth.

The older man next to him interrupted the eye lock Kirstie had with the young man. “That is where all this started, as near as we can tell. Northumbria was settled, a good Christian nation. Then the Vikings came, no offence, and everything got confused. Lindisfarne on the holy island got burned to the ground about a hundred years ago. Then, this Abraxas showed up and things got worse. Good neighbors began to fight one another. People you thought were good believers started following Abraxas. They talked about him as the god with us, and said the Christ was a god for people far away. Then, the hags showed up. They were terrible monsters of the worst kind, but they seemed to have sway over the people. Three, like sisters he sent to other shores. One to Scandinavia. One to Saxony. And one to Francia, though I did not expect her to be here in this small, unimportant port. We never should have come here. Are you listening?”

Medieval 5: K and Y 14 Side Steps, part 2 of 2

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Kirstie

While the men rowed, Kirstie and Yrsa disguised themselves as well as they could. Yrsa simply changed her glamour, so she looked like a young boy instead of a girl. “Cheater,” Kirstie said, and immediately traded places through time with Elgar, the Saxon. Most of the men knew Elgar from years earlier. Leif even complained.

“You don’t look like you have aged one day since then.”

“I do try to keep in shape,” Elgar smiled and called for a different suit he knew he had on Avalon. It was mostly leather, it replaced his armor, and with some minor adjustments, he looked like one of the crew.

“Elgar,” Jarl said. “I thought you might show up.”

They bumped the dock softly and men jumped out to fasten the ship. Six men stood on the dock waiting to board. The speaker from the longboat stood in front. Two soldier types, though they may have been mercenaries stood behind him. Three clerks with tenth century versions of clipboards, velum, and something to write with followed.

“I am Captain Jarl Hagenson of Strindlos. My skipari is Leif. Old Man Skarde is our scald and with Elgar and Yerser, they will accompany your clerks and answer any questions you may have.” He smiled as the speaker from the longboat frowned. That told Jarl, and at least Elgar, that the clerks and probably all six of them had sticky fingers and needed to be watched.

Jarl stayed with the longboat speaker. Leif grabbed another member of the crew to stand with the two mercenaries and pass pleasantries while they waited. The whole center aisle of the ship was filled with bags, boxes, and bundles to trade, and Yrsa and Skarde watched their clerks closely, though there was not much they could pocket. Elgar helped his clerk step over the rowing benches to get to the front of the ship where Kirstie kept the most valuable items.

He let the man taste the honey with his finger, but it was an especially big jug, and the wax could hardly be snitched. The man was impressed by the polar bear skin, and his eyes got big looking at the ivory. Then he counted and asked why there were only five tusks.

“Walruses,” Elgar said. “They fight, you know. They fight for dominance, and sometimes one breaks a tusk. My supplier said one must have broken completely off, probably by the water where the tide took it out to sea. Such a shame.”

The clerk nodded. It was a good story. He looked at the basket of amber, and counted, but Elgar never let go of it.

“Half empty?” the man asked.

“We got caught in that storm a week ago. Do you recall? It was terrible at sea.”

“You don’t mean some washed overboard,” the clerk looked horrified.

“One crew member did,” Elgar said. “But no. We had to stop in a village on the Eider River in Saxon territory to make repairs.” he showed the man Kirstie’s railing. “You can see the new wood. It is not the same color and hardly weathered. We had repairs all over the ship and even needed a new mast. They were good people, though. The Lord of the Castle gave us a keg of wine, but all of it cost us some amber. Even if we had silver to pay, which we don’t, he would only take amber. I guess there is a good market here on the continent for the stuff. It is hard to come by as Captain Hagenson said.” He brought the clerk back up front and away from their special items. “Are we all done?”

“Not yet,” the speaker from the longboat said. “I only need to know where you have hidden the rest of the things.”

“Why would we hide things?” Elgar asked. “You have a list of all of our things, so if anything gets stolen, we will know, and more importantly, you will know and hopefully help us catch the thief.”

The speaker eyed Elgar like he was not supposed to think of that, but he said something different. “You speak with an accent.”

Elgar looked down like a man ashamed. “My mother was a Saxon, but polite people kindly don’t notice.”

All this while, Skarde kept trying to draw attention to himself by trying hard not to draw attention to himself. Finally, Yrsa could not stand it. She lowered her voice as she had with the clerk, though she still sounded like a young man whose voice had not yet changed, and she said, “Skarde, what are you hiding?”

Skarde quickly pulled his half open shirt together and said, “Nothing. Nothing.”

That finally provoked a reaction. The speaker from the longboat stepped to face Skarde. He put his hand out and frowned again. Skarde shook his head and turned away without actually moving away.

Jarl spoke. “Give it up, man,” he said, and Skarde reluctantly pulled out a piece of amber. The speaker from the longboat took it but kept his hand out. Skarde pulled out the other piece with a word.

“There. That is all of it.” He opened his shirt and showed his fat belly. He turned around and showed there was nothing down his pants. The speaker from the longboat decided he did not need to look there, and he spoke.

“Since these are not on the inventory, it is my duty to confiscate them. This man is not allowed to come into town, but the rest of you are welcome to come to the tavern on the water while your captain negotiates his sales.” The man gave Jarl a smile that looked sickly, and he left.

Jarl waited until the man was out of earshot before he laid down the rules. Same as before. No one gets drunk and don’t provoke anything. No stealing and no fighting. Leave your swords and axes here but take your knives. Keep the knives hidden. I don’t want the locals to know you have knives on you. Remember. We are trying to make some good money, but there is reported to be a hag in town, so keep your eyes open and be prepared to fight if needed.

“Skarde, Yrsa and Elgar need to stay here and guard the treasure.” Jarl held up his hand to forestall the protests. “The hag does not need to know you are here looking for her. I will send word when I find her, meanwhile, we are trying to make some money here.”

Elgar growled at him and traded back to Kirstie in her own armor who still made the growl, though a whole pitch higher.

Jarl, Leif, and the men all vacated the ship, the men to the tavern, and Jarl, Leif, and three others to the guild hall. Kirstie turned straight to Yrsa.

“What resources have you got?”

“Like you don’t know?” Yrsa said.

“Yes, but you are here, and I have a headache.”

Yrsa nodded and shut her eyes for a moment. “There are not many around here right now,” she said. “All the fighting not to mention the hag is scary. The land is rather torn up. Let’s see. There is an elf troop in the glens on the hillside, a fairy camp on the shore toward Dieppe, dwarf homes in the hills of Talou, and dark elves in the swamps around Lillebonne, this side of Rouen. As you know, there are always some here and there, but those are the closest that feel available to manifest in the face of the humans.” Yrsa turned to Skarde. “Facing human can be scary. Humans are so mean and unpredictable.”

“Exactly as I think,” Skarde said.

Suddenly, Kirstie felt guilty. Margueritte reminded her that she used to travel with a fairy from the Frisian shore named Tulip. Kirstie checked. Tulip was getting up in years, having passed eight hundred. But she had a daughter, Anemone, who was only two hundred and three, a good age for a fairy. Kirstie decided if she survived this encounter with the hag, she would urge Jarl to stop where she could see Sir Waldo and maybe Captain Otto and visit with Tulip and her daughter.

Kirstie called to her blue dress. Yrsa immediately changed into her green dress and removed the glamour of the boy, so she looked like Yrsa again, albeit still covered to look like a human woman, and she said, “So where are we going?”

“I thought you two were going to stay and keep me company,” Skarde said.

Kirstie shook her head. “You need to come with us. I have a bad feeling about this. I expect since he got the whole crew to go to the tavern, Longboat Bigmouth will be back with a bunch of soldiers to kill you and take everything.”

“They wouldn’t,” Skarde said.

“And where are the Danes? Not even a guard left on their ship.”

“No movement on the ships anchored in the port, either.” Yrsa pointed out.

“I said a brace is only as good as the glue that holds the wood in place when I showed my clerk the repair to the railing. He heard “a brace is” and looked up, like he expected a different word.”

“I use the word abrasive, and mentioned pirates’ ambushes, and I think both times he looked for the word Abraxas.” Yrsa looked pensive. “The clerks and soldiers did not seem entirely focused,”

“Enchanted by the hag,” Kirstie said.

“I would guess the same,” Yrsa agreed. “They will be back now that the ship is deserted.”

“I think this hag is greedy, or she is working on the crews to turn them to Abraxas so when the time comes, they can sail home and spread the word.”

“Or both,” Yrsa added.

“Kind of like spreading a disease.” Kirstie said, and Yrsa nodded.

“Shall we?” Yrsa asked and took one of Skarde’s arms.

“We shall,” Kirstie said and took the other arm.

They walked the dock to town looking like a grandfather and his two granddaughters. They made it to the main street just in time as sure enough, Longboat Bigmouth and twenty soldiers scooted past them, not giving them a second look, other than the young soldiers who might have looked twice at the girls. The soldiers headed straight for their boat and Bigmouth even called out. “Old man, come out and show yourself.”

Old Man Skarde watched for a minute before he said, “How did I get so lucky.”

Kirstie answered. “Blame the elf.”

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

MONDAY

Things in Normandy don’t go as expected, and there is the hag. Until Monday, Happy Reading.

*

Medieval 5: K and Y 14 Side Steps, part 1 of 2

M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Kirstie

They sailed passed the Frisian shore without trouble. Leif mentioned that pirates sometimes congregated in the lowlands and the inland waterways. He explained that the inland waters in Frisia were not like the fjords in Norway which were shadowed by great hills and mountains. “These inland waterways are more like flatland swamps in a way. What looks like good land being covered in green grasses and flowers may turn out to be water underneath, and possibly deep water. The pirates know the ways through and around the wetlands so no one can ever catch them.”

“That is twice mention of pirates,” Yrsa said, and Kirstie agreed.

“Third time is the charm. Get your arrows ready.”

“Third time?” Old Man Skarde listened in as usual.

“Just the story of my life,” Kirstie told him. “Don’t worry about it.” She checked her weapons beneath her seat.

Captain Jarl Hagenson gathered everyone’s attention. “Leif has seen a ship in the distance. Our lady Yrsa has confirmed the same with her good eyes. Right now, they appear to be just following us, but Kirstie has suggested they may be waiting for others to join them, and I agree. We are coming to the narrow place between Flanders and Kent. and it is one place pirates like. There is room to maneuver, but not much room to escape. So, keep your eyes open and be ready to row on short command.”

Men felt anxious all morning, but midday passed without incident. It turned roughly two o’clock before the first man shouted, “Ships. There, ahead of us, and they have their oars out. It looks like they were expecting us.”

“The ship behind has lowered their sail. They have their oars out,” Yrsa yelled.

“How can you see that?” Leif asked quietly.

“Wait. To your oars. Wait.” Captain Jarl yelled to the men. They waited, but not very patiently. “I want both ships in front of us moving to push us to the shore of Flanders. I want them committed so it will be hard to back stroke and take time to turn around. Wait. Now!” He shouted. “Oars out. Regular strokes. Not too deep. I don’t want any panic. Hard right. Get that sail down. Regular strokes.”

Old Man Skarde started singing, and the rest of the crew slowly picked it up. The song was an old sailor’s chant such as mothers sing to their babies, but the roots of the song were much older. It kept the rowing rhythm perfectly, and the men smiled at memories of mother and home and relaxed, which relieved their panic and got them synchronized. They flew.

The bottom pirate ship that blocked their straight path struggled to turn around. The top ship that would have pushed them and chased them to the shore tried to reverse stroke so they could back up. They had to come to a complete stop first before they could start moving the wrong way. Longships were able to move in either direction with the oars, but they still had to stop their forward motion to start in reverse.

The ship that followed them did not appear to get any closer, and Leif pointed out, “They will tire, having rowed much further than us to get here.”

The men, some chanting and some singing could be heard by the other ship just fine as Captain Jarl steered the ship just around the backside of the top pirate ship. One man later said he could have spit and hit the deck of the other ship. They were that close. But with their speed, they got past the blockade and out into the open waters of the channel. And they did not stop. The enemy could turn well enough and be after them, and with three ships to their one, woe if they got caught.

Kirstie had a thought and slid up her oar so she would not tangle the others. “Vingevourt,” she called. The sprite jumped up to the railing right away, and another sprite came with him. It seemed like Vingevourt followed them all the way from Strindlos. “Can you stop the other ships from following?” she asked.

Vingevourt shook his little head. “I have no authority in the channel. These waters belong to my cousin here.”

“Svartelbin, it is lovely to meet you. Might you be able to help us out?”

“She has a land elf with her,” Vingevourt interrupted and pointed at Yrsa.

“Hello,” Yrsa said. It was all she could manage through her sweat. She was a light elf and did not have rock hard muscles like a dwarf, but she would do her duty.

“I would be grateful if you could help us out,” Kirstie added.

Svartelbin nodded for Vingevourt as much as for Kirstie. “We can’t stop them, but we can maybe slow them a bit. We can press up against the front end and cling to their oars to make them heavy and tire them.” Svartelbin seemed to have a revelation. “I wish I could do more. I honestly wish it.”

Jarl saw Kirstie stopped rowing and got half-way down the center aisle before he saw and turned around. Leif, who watched whenever the captain moved, asked what was going on. Jarl looked at the man and said, “Just something that will make you shriek.” He went back to join the helmsman at the steering board.

“Oh,” Leif thought about it between strokes. “Oh!” he said, considerably louder.

“How about rocking the boat,” Yrsa managed.

“Yes,” Kirstie grasped the idea. “Can you get your wave makers to come alongside the boats and rock them back and forth to make the men… sick to their stomachs?” She almost said seasick, but the sprites would not understand that and might have been offended at the suggestion.

“Sick to their stomachs?” Svartelbin was not sure.

“You know,” Vingevourt said. “When they eject filth from their mouths and can’t do much more than sit and make whining noises.”

“Dirty my channel? Well, some bottom dwellers find that tasteful. Rock the boat?” Kirstie showed with her hands.

“That and pushing against the front and making their oars heavy should stop them pretty quick, especially if they are afraid that they might tip over.”

“It is really hard to make them tip over.”

“I’m not asking to tip them over, just rock them so they are afraid that they might tip over. Will you do this?”

Svartelbin looked at Vingevourt and Vingevourt spoke. “It will be our pleasure, Lady.” He bowed and Svartelbin also bowed before the two of them popped and splashed back into the sea.

“Good thing,” Old man Skarde said. “My old arms are not up for rowing all day.”

“Me neither,” Yrsa said.

“Yes, but at least your elf arms are not as old as mine.”

“My arms are a hundred and fifty years old, just a smidgen older than my hair.”

Old Man Skarde did not miss a stroke, but said simply, “Learn something new every day.”

When they got well out of range, and for all they knew the pirates gave up the chase, Jarl turned them due south. They followed within sight of the shoreline all the way to Fiscannum.

~~~*~~~

Fiscannum already had three ships in the dock when they arrived. Two were Saxon merchant ships from Wessex, or Cornwall or maybe Brittany anchored off the harbor. They were fat and lazy ships, but they had a hold that could carry a large amount of goods. The third ship was a longship not much different from their own. One crew member identified it as a Danish ship.

Jarl wisely chose to anchor off the port and prepared to send a longboat to see if they might be welcome to trade, and to scope out the area. Kirstie wanted to go in the longboat, but Jarl vetoed that idea. He whispered in her ear. “If the hag is in the dock, I assume you don’t want to give yourself away.”

Kirstie growled at him, but he was right.

It turned out they did not have to go anywhere. The port sent a longboat to talk with them. “Where are you from?” The first question came well before the longboat reached the ship. It was said in the old Norse language so communication would not be a problem.

Jarl answered. “We are merchants from Strindlos in the Trondelag and wonder if this is a place where we may engage in honest trade.”

“That depends. What have you brought to trade?”

“Furs, fine hides, and grain,” Jarl answered. “I heard the north shore is full of too much fighting and too little farming.”

The speaker in the longboat paused to turn his head to one of the passengers before he shouted again to the ship. “Where is Trondelag?”

“Northern Norway. Cold country.”

“The land of Harald Finehair?”

“Fairhair,” Leif shouted back.

“He may be blonde, but from what I hear he is losing his hair.” The speaker smiled at the thought, but only for a second. “I see you have a full crew. You can’t have much grain and furs.”

“There are pirates,” Jarl answered in all honesty. “We were chased through the narrow place that comes into the channel and would not have escaped without a full crew.”

The man paused to listen to his passenger again. “Do you have anything else worth trading?”

Jarl paused this time and appeared to look around at the crew. He actually looked at Kirstie. She nodded and said, “Amber,” pinching her fingers to say a small amount.

“Yes,” Jarl shouted as the longboat stopped moving closer. “We have a jug of fine honey and beeswax from the cold north. We have some ivory. And we have a small bit of amber to trade, but we would expect to get a good return, especially on the amber which is very hard to come by.”

The speaker in the boat had to get his instructions before he shouted. “The harbor master says you may anchor opposite the Danish ship. He will send men aboard to inventory your goods, and after you are approved, you may visit the guild hall to bargain.” The longboat turned and headed back to shore.

Jarl figured he had a couple of minutes. He talked to Leif, Kirstie, and the leaders of the crew. “Bring the amber over here.” he said and bent down to the deck beside the steering oar. He pulled up a plank over the pole that connected to the bottom of the steering board. The hole had been expanded there, either by wear and tear, weathering, or on purpose. He slipped almost half of the amber in the hole. Before he replaced the plank, Kirstie took two fine pieces and handed them to Old Man Skarde to hide in his tunic.

“They will expect us to try and hide some. This way they can find some.”

Jarl nodded and grabbed a piece of ivory. He put it in the hole, really a dent made for the anchor. That hole was also bigger than it needed to be. “Get the men to the oars. Up the anchor. Let’s fit it on top.” They did. The anchor did not fit perfectly but it got covered and looked acceptable and wet. The men rowed and the steersman put the ship alongside the dock.