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

M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Yasmina

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So, is he happy now?” Aisha asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

MONDAY

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

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

M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Kirstie

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A fire starter?” he asked.

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

“Gifted, by who?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Medieval 5: K and Y 18 Unexpected Meetings, part 2 of 4

M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Kirstie

“Come on Yrsa,” Kirstie said. “Let’s find a soft place to sleep tonight, provided it does not rain. It will be at least another day before Ulf and Odger show up.” She raised her voice to the captains. “If they do not come here in three days, we assume they are not coming at all.”

“What do we do in the meantime?” Someone asked.

“Go fishing. Build fires and camp where we won’t be seen from the mainland. Send spies to the near islands to try and see what is going on in Bamburgh. Put the Scaldi to work. Relax. Smoke if you got ’em.”

“Smoke what?” Yrsa asked as they climbed over a small hill to the sea on the other side of the island. Kirstie did not answer, but she called to her blue dress and Yrsa matched her in green. It was not that her dress was warmer than her armor in the spring sea breezes, but because right then, she did not feel much like murder or mayhem.

Kirstie spoke again when they got to the other side of the island, well away and out of sight from the men. Kirstie looked back once but did not see their shadows of Kare and Thoren. “Looks deserted,” Kirstie said. “In fact, all these islands may be deserted.” They stood at the top of short cliffs and looked down on the sea, and Kirstie had an idea. “Vingevourt,” she called. “Are you there?” She did not want to make him appear before her. She sensed he was busy doing something. She looked up. “Cloud babies, are you able to speak?”

Yrsa stood still and seemed just as fascinated and thrilled as a human would be in the circumstances. The sea churned for a second, and the overcast sky produced two very small puffs of gray cloud that flew straight to her. One little green gingerbread man blob of the sea came shooting out of the breakers and landed softly on the clifftop.

“Lady,” the blob said in his squeaky baby voice. “The sea king is busy with the whales in the north, but I am here. How can I help you.”

“Lady,” the word came from overhead.

“And friend,” another word came from the cloudy puffs that came down to face her, floating gently over the sea cliff.

Kirstie had to think for a second. She turned first to the water sprite. “Fardlevan,” she named the sprite. “What can you tell me about the islands? Are there any people here or on one of the other islands?”

Fardlevan had to think a minute. “There is a family of gnomes that travel from island to island. They are nice people. They help keep the islands green and care for the birds that mostly live here. There is also a small band of fairies on the big island over that way.” He pointed. “They have been very busy in the spring since the wildflowers started to bloom and all the trees went to bud.”

“I think she meant human people,” Yrsa said.

Fardlevan looked like he pulled off the top of his head, but Kirstie imagined it was his hat. He tipped it for the elf before he let it blend back into his body. No one would guess he had a hat. There is one mud person on this very island, but he is hiding in the cave in the cliffs close by here. I think he is afraid. Is that the right word? Afraid?”

Kirstie nodded and turned to the sprites of the air. They blew with the winds, scattering the seeds, whistling through the leaves, lifting the birds into the air, but mostly they picked up water on their journey. When they manifested, they always took cloud form, and they always came in pairs, one male and one female. They said it helped keep the sky in balance and hold the sky to the earth, like the sky might otherwise blow off into the sun. They stayed in balance like their god or goddess, who presently happened to be a goddess for them. “So, Flitter and Flutter, what weather can we look forward to?” Kirstie asked the sprites.

‘Rain.”

“Some drizzles.”

“Some lightning.”

“Some thunder.”

The two sprites sounded like children, not like the cherub-like water babies, but young enough to where sometimes it was hard to tell which was the male voice and which was the female voice. “I hope it won’t rain too hard on the men,” Kirstie said.

“Just a good spring rain.”

“On and off all night.”

“Just enough to annoy them,” Yrsa said softly.

“We can push some away.”

“But only some.”

“And make the lightning strike the sea.”

“The water sprites like the lightning.”

“We do,” Fardlevan said. “It energizes us so we can make really big waves.”

“But we can’t push it all off.”

“Not all of it.”

“It is too heavy.”

“Very heavy and ready to fall.”

“Gonna fall.”

“Thank you very much,” Kirstie interrupted them. The little cloud babies would otherwise go on like that for a long time. “You can go back to your play now. Sorry to interrupt your good work.”

“Not a problem.”

“No problem at all.”

Fardlevan spoke over top. “Glad to do it.” He saluted, jumped off the edge of the cliff, and shattered into a million droplets that blended back into the sea.

“Good-bye. So long. Farewell. Good-bye.” The sprites of the air kept up the litany until they got beyond where Kirstie could hear them. Yrsa probably heard them longer, given her good elf ears, but eventually they blended back into the gray overhead and disappeared.

“Lady,” Yrsa got Kirstie’s attention. She pointed with her head and eyes and Kirstie turned to see a gray-bearded old man walking with a staff along the clifftop. He came straight to them and asked a question. “Are you angels?” The women shook their heads, and Kirstie responded.

“Why would you ask such a question?”

The man put his hand to his beard and looked down for a second before he looked at them and answered. “Because you are both as beautiful as I always imagined angels to be. And second, because I saw you talking to the sea and the clouds as if they were your very good friends.”

“A water sprite and two sprites of the air, and they are good friends, but that does not make me less human,” Kirstie said. “I am Kristina Arnedottir from Strindlos in Norway. My maid is Yrsa.”

“Father McAndrews of Lindisfarne. And I really suspected you were with the Vikings, though you hardly look like thieves and cutthroats.” He looked around to make sure they were not being watched.

Medieval 5: K and Y 18 Unexpected Meetings, part 1 of 4

M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Kirstie

When the men got back to their ships, they asked the men left to guard the ships if they had any trouble from the locals. The men said they were not disturbed.

“We had men up on the hills there and there. A couple of fishing boats came in our direction, but not passed the mark where we could be seen. Nothing on land as far as we know.

Ulf took that as an invitation to plunder Howick. He sailed by the village a couple of times, which is how he knew about the cove, but the people there seemed vigilant in their sea watch. It never occurred to him before to park his ship up the coast and attack the village from the land side.

“We can be in and at their throats before they know we are there,” Njal the giant said, and smiled about it.

Captain Erikson said he was not going. He said the plan worked well. They got in and out, enriched themselves, and did not have to fight. “My crew is intact, and I would like to keep it that way. Besides, the others will be expecting us in the Farne Islands. We need to get moving while we can.”

Captain Odger decided to join Ulf on the venture, which left it up to Harrold. Toke kept the crew in line, but never offered an opinion on the captain’s decisions. Kirstie sometimes called the man Smee. Kirstie said she was not going and Yrsa supported her. Thoren volunteered to watch the girls. Kare got angry. He wanted to go, but in the end, Harrold decided to head for the Farne Islands with Captain Erikson. Most of his crew from Strindlos looked relieved, and Harrold did not grumble about it too much.

They spent the early morning dividing the loot they gained so each ship carried roughly the same amount. When they later arrived home and divided that into individual shares, no one would get rich. They wished Ulf and Odger luck and rowed out to sea. Once they set the sail, the men could relax, and most of them slept. They had been up about twenty-six or more hours by then.

“Lady,” Yrsa said. Kirstie hoped she did not want to start a long conversation.

Kirstie got as comfortable as she could on the deck before she asked, “What?”

“You know you spoke with Wilam and the people in the village in English, not the Norse we speak at home.”

“I did?” Kirstie thought for a minute and realized what Yrsa said was true. “I did. I guess Elgar helped with that.”

“I was thinking maybe Lady Alice from Avalon might have given you the language.”

Kirstie thought some more. “No? Maybe.” She shrugged.

“Avalon must be lovely,” Yrsa said. “I would love to go there one day.”

“Someday,” Kirstie responded. “But right now, I would like to get some sleep.”

Yrsa groused. “But I’m a light elf. I had a hard time marching through the dark time, but now that it is light time, I can’t sleep.”

“Good,” Kirstie said. “You can take my watch.” She turned on her side and promptly fell asleep.

Once in the Farne islands, they quickly found Rune, Jarl, and the two captains that sailed with them to the Coquet River. Frode mostly told the story with only a few interruptions.

“We got to the river mouth and had to wait a day for everyone to catch up, but we found a swampy area not too shallow for our ships, where we could cover and hide them from watchful eyes. We left five from each crew behind to guard the ships and took a hundred and seventy men to strike the village. We moved in the night, north to the Ain River. It was tricky moving between the city of Rothbury and Burling on the coast without being seen. But once we reached the Ain and had rested, we attacked the village and took them completely unprepared. They surrendered, and we gathered all their things. About a hundred men under Jarl then went down the Ain to the next village and attacked them as well.

“We got so much stuff, we could hardly carry it all,” Jarl said.

“We took weapons and knives, plus some things for the farm and home,” Frode continued.

“And mostly whatever silver coins they had, and any gold,” Rune added.

“Then came the tricky part,” Frode said and paused in case he got interrupted again. He continued. “We left the area near sundown and hurried through the night. A troop came out of Rothbury, maybe two hundred, and maybe a hundred men came from Burling. The stragglers reported seeing the men behind them, but they were all going the wrong way, toward the Ain River where they assumed we had our ships.”

Jarl interrupted again. “I imagine by the time they figured it out, we were back at our ships and sailed into the North Sea. We made a wide swing around to stay well away from the shore so we would not be spotted if they sent out their own ships to sail the coast, looking for us. In any case, we did not see them and arrived here a day before you. We spent that day dividing our loot, so each ship got an equivalent amount of the take.”

“So, tell me,” Kirstie spoke up loudly to get their attention. She was concerned about her own captains, Jarl and Rune. “How did you feel about attacking innocent civilians and stealing everything they had?”

“That wasn’t the way of it,” Frode began, like he had it all rationalized and justified in his mind.

“The people surrendered,” Jarl said. “And we rounded them up and held them in the village open market while we searched their houses and buildings. Only a few of the men who resisted got killed.”

One of the captains Kirstie did not know spoke. “I am sure their king will help replenish them for their losses. Meanwhile, we did our job, and with minimal killing, as you said.”

Kirstie looked again. He must have been at the meeting in the big house. “And you think if we got raided, King Harald Fairhair would compensate us?” People looked away. No one thought that. “I don’t recall any help when the Vanlil attacked us.”

Rune spoke again, but quietly. “No women got abused, as far as I know.” He felt he had to say that for Kirstie’s sake.

“I never thought of it that way” Harrold said. “I just saw them as people, like enemies, people who had things we wanted and needed, and they were greedy and not willing to share.”

“Trade works,” Captain Erikson interjected. “Fair trade can get us what we need without all the killing.”

 “But we don’t have much the people here want or can’t get for themselves,” One of the captains protested.

“Besides,” Frode said. “We are getting paid to do a job.”

“Like mercenaries,” Leif said. “That is an honorable occupation.”

Kirstie kept her mouth shut. The debate about whether or not it was honorable to kill for money would have to be saved for another time.

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MONDAY

Kirstie finds a hermit on the island and Yasmina and company arrive in Alexandria where they find a surprise. Next time. Happy Reading.

 

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

M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Yasmina

Yasmina made peace with her horse. He was a good puppy, as she sometimes called him. She named him Sulayman and felt like she was getting the hang of this riding business. The merchant caravan crawled along, slow as a turtle. They carried linens from the Nile, soap from Alexandria, and finely crafted items from Fustat and they headed toward Damascus. The first night camp was on the Giza Plateau under the moon shade of the pyramids.

“The sphinx looks covered in sand,” Yasmina said. She made al-Rahim and Aisha ride with her to look at it. A servant of Mubarak, a Christian Egyptian named Zayd who knew the area well led the way. “I’ll be anxious to see Jerusalem when we get there a month from now,” Yasmina added.

She felt disappointed on seeing the sphinx. The temple was almost completely filled in and buried, and the lion was completely covered so only the head stuck up above the sand.

“The temple of Horus is only visible from the few columns that stick out from the sand,” Zayd explained. “The face on the statue is said to be the face of Horus… What?” he asked because Yasmina kept vigorously shaking her head.

“It is older than that,” Yasmina said before her mouth opened up. “The sphinx is a lion, it was originally a full lion at rest with front and back feet, and a lion face and it got carved hundreds of thousands, maybe two hundred thousand years ago or more. It was carved by the Gott-Druk under the eye of the giants who ruled all this land in the three hundred thousand years before the extinction event… You don’t need to know all that.”

“Sekhmet was the lion goddess of the ancient people,” Zayd said.

Yasmina shook her head again. “She came later. My older-younger sister Sakmet or Sekhmet or Mehit in some places was born maybe four or five thousand years ago, so relatively recently.” She waved off any questions “Anyway, after the extinction event, God removed all the ash and dust, so we had the sun again. He let there be light. He stabilized the rotation of the Earth and separated the waters from the waters and all that. Genesis, you know. That was what, fifteen thousand years ago? Fourteen? Sixteen? I don’t know. I was not around then.”

“Your sister?” Zayd had to ask. “How could you have been alive? I’ve heard the Earth was created just five thousand years ago. Of course, I’ve also heard nine thousand years ago…” She waved off his questions again.

Yasmina took a breath. “Anyway, the powers in nature, the titans decided human beings needed more direct guidance, in a sense. The gods, so-called, began to be born around the time of the flood. You know, the ones who showed Allah-God in all things so no man would have an excuse. Well, Osiris got born in there somewhere and eventually, maybe some five thousand years ago, the Ra, the king of the gods of Egypt gave the Nile to Osiris. That was when the pyramids got built.”

“Wait,” Zayd interrupted. He was having a hard time grasping all this. “There are many pyramids around the land. It is said the ancient people tried and failed but learned how to build these perfect pyramids. They were the last built.”

“Oh, the Egyptians tried and failed with many,” Yasmina agreed. “But they were just trying to replicate the wonders of Giza. To be honest, there are many pyramids around the world, and some are bigger than these here. The giants built pyramids when they ruled the earth over those two or three hundred thousand years. The people who built these pyramids on Giza got the idea from the giants and made the pyramid design an integral part of their own culture. But you don’t need to know all that. I can tell you that the sphinx, the “Place of the Lion” was a landmark place for meeting between different people groups. As civilization began to develop along the Nile, eventually the people removed the lion face and re-carved it into the face of Osiris. The temple to Osiris was built here earlier, like when Osiris received the gift of the Nile…”

“Lady?” Aisha pointed and wanted to ask about Osiris’ nose.

Yasmina looked but she started winding down. “Of course, Osiris got killed at bout that same time. Horus took over, but they could not really re-carve the sphinx again. Horus wore glasses for reading. Anyway, the temple got mostly abandoned. Ptah used it from time to time. Memphis was not far away. I suppose Sekhmet came here often enough, not because of the lion, though. Ptah was her father.”

“Your sister?” Zayd asked.

Yasmina nodded. “Different father,” she said, and saw al-Rahim waiting patiently with his arms folded. Yasmina looked down.

“Are we finished?” Al-Rahim asked. Yasmina nodded without lifting her eyes. “Because I believe our friend Zayd brought us here to tell us something.”

It took Zayd a few moments to focus his mind back on the real world. “Indeed. I meant to warn you. My master, Mubarak took money from the governor to take you to a safe place, but he has no intention of fulfilling that contract. We are headed toward Palestine, but before we get there, he plans to sell you to the Qarmatians, thus making twice the money for the same prize. He will tell the governor he brought you safely to your destination, but they were attacked and the Qarmatians came and took you by force. He might even lie and say he tried to get you back, but the Qarmatians were too strong and fast, so he could not catch you.”

“Doesn’t anyone tell the truth anymore?” Aisha asked quietly.

“Evidently not,” Yasmina said, and they mounted to ride back to the camp.

Before dawn, when Zayd and his men were on watch, al-Rahim led them away from the caravan. The instructions were simple enough. Head due west until they came across a road in the wilderness. That would be the road through the western delta and would take them eventually to Alexandria. Al-Rahim said that would work. He had a letter addressed to the Sharif, the governor of Alexandria.

Medieval 5: K and Y 17 Surprises, part 3 of 4

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Kirstie

Kirstie looked at the men who were all watching the exchange. She saw that Yrsa had her eyes on the village and the people starting their day. Those people might have looked and wondered who these women were, but they did not stop to ask. Kirstie looked again at Wilam and motioned for him to come away from the others.

“Excuse me, fellows,” Wilam said and stepped toward Kirstie. Kirstie grabbed his hand and dragged him well out of earshot. She looked at him and hardly knew what to say, or how to say it, so she just blurted it out.

“There are a hundred and fifty Vikings back on the hillside ready to overrun this village as soon as I return to them.” She looked up into his eyes and began to babble. “Some of them are good men, from my home village of Strindlos, but if you try to resist them everyone will get killed. They are being paid to cause panic in the countryside. King Cnut of York wants Northumberland in a panic. He imagines negotiating with your king to make an alliance, to watch the coast against those terrible Norsemen. He plans to put his men along the coast and eventually betray and overrun Northumberland for himself. What can we do? Some of the men with me are not so nice. They are pagans in search of gold and silver and will not hesitate to attack the church and any young women they can find. What are we going to do?”

“Wait here,” Wilam looked determined. He stepped back to his small group of men who never stopped staring at the three of them, because Yrsa stayed with her mistress. Kirstie stood, feeling exposed in the street. She moved up to stand beside Wilam.

“You have to get the young women out of town, and your priest if you have one,” she interrupted the men.

Wilam turned to her, and he still smiled for her which at least meant he was not mad at her. “Believe it or not, we planned for this possibility. Of course, we imagined we might get word when they were a couple of hours away and headed in our direction, but this will do.”

One older man looked unconvinced. “Can you prove what you are saying?”

Kirstie did not hesitate. She called for her armor and became instantly outfitted for battle with all her weapons attached. “If you resist you will get everyone killed. Some of the Norsemen are terrible mean ones. Also, they need to find enough silver and gold and precious items to satisfy them, or they may chase you into the wilderness.”

After getting over their shock at her transformation, the men scattered. Wilam stayed with her and walked her to the edge of the village. She smiled for him, thinking he did not even raise an eyebrow at her change from pretty girl in a blue dress to shield maiden ready to chop someone’s head off.

“Got any more of those gnomes hanging around?” Wilam asked.

Kirstie shook her head. “Just my elf maid.” She pointed to Yrsa who was back in her leather and had her bow in her hand, though no arrow on the string.

Wilam nodded to her, and Yrsa responded. “Pleased to meet you,” and she smiled and bowed her head a little for the man. Kirstie saw that sign of respect and knew she was in trouble. Elves were very perceptive. They would like anyone she liked, or at least they would not play any tricks on such a person, and they would respect and defer to anyone she loved. It was self-defense on the part of the little ones. They did not dare mistreat someone loved by their goddess. But it was also a natural response led by their goddess. They reflected her feelings on such things.

Wilam reached for Kirstie’s hand again, and she gave it to him with her smile. “You are a deep and unfathomable woman, and I would like to get to know you better.”

“Get Captain Olaf and come to the great fjord in Trondelag, old Prondalog and the village of Strindlos. Bring well-made items, like weapons, but also plows, farm implements, household items in glass and metal, and things like that. We are not so different. We all need to grow our daily bread.” She looked down at his hand holding her hand and smiled more deeply. They stayed like that and talked for almost an hour. In the end, Yrsa interrupted.

“Lady, we need to get back to the others.”

Kirstie nodded and backed up as a man came to them with two horses in hand. Kirstie looked and identified the man. “Brent Svenson, Captain Olaf’s skipari.”

“Brant,” the man corrected and joined in the smiling. “I thought it was you when I first saw you, but I was not sure until you changed into your armor. Do we have a hag around here?”

Kirstie shook her head. “Worse,” she said, and finished her sentence with Wilam. “And I have no control over what the men will do. Please remember that. I have done all I can to minimize the damage.”

Wilam said, “We understand.” He mounted and he and Brant rode off. Kirstie turned with Yrsa and walked back to the others.

“You all but bowed to Wilam,” Kirstie accused her maid.

“Just a feeling I have,” she responded and let out her elf-sized grin.

“Shut it,” Kirstie said, and they walked quietly until they began to climb the hill.

“You are well into your seventeenth year,” Yrsa said. “You will be eighteen soon enough. That is more than old enough for a human to be full grown and ready to mate.”

“Shut it,” Kirstie repeated.

When they got back to the men, Kirstie quickly explained how they went straight to the village center and watched. They wanted to get some notion where the people were, where the fighters were, and where the money might be. Then all at once, people began to run around like crazy. One man saw us, an elder I think, and he took us to the edge of the village. He said a farmer spotted Vikings just beyond the farm fields and they had to flee. He said they would leave their valuables in the village center with the hope that the Vikings might be satisfied and leave their village in peace. He said he did not know what business we had in the village, but we needed to get out before it was too late. We came straight back here to tell you.”

Ulf roared in anger, like a lion deprived of his rightful prey. Odger and Captain Erikson got their men up and going. Harrold said, “Hurry,” and “Quickly,” several times. They rushed to the town and caught some older men and women that were slow in escaping. They only killed a couple of them and let the rest hobble off.

Ulf wanted to follow the old ones to see if they led them to the rest of the villagers. Kirstie noticed Njal, Ulf’s giant, seemed especially interested in finding the women, but the other captains voted against that idea. The village left a nice pile of cups, glassware and silver piled up in the center. The captains sent their men to rummage through the houses and buildings, looking for anything that might be valuable back home. Several people were found and about half of them were killed.

Some houses were burned at random, and two of the buildings in the village center went up in flames. They also burned the church in town, though it was mostly stone, so it did not burn well. Kirstie was surprised and not surprised to see that mostly the men looted things for the farm and some blacksmith tools. They did not find many weapons worth stealing but took what they found. Some men were burdened down with too much loot to make the trek all the way back to their ship. Kirstie figured that would sort itself out as they walked.

Kirstie paid attention. Ulf’s men were as wild and bloodthirsty as she imagined. Odger’s` men from Vigg were more like Harrold’s men from home. They would not hesitate to fight and kill, but that was not what they were there for. They came for the silver and what they could steal. If they did not need to kill anyone, or risk being killed, that was a good thing. Captain Bo Erikson’s crew also behaved like Kirstie guessed. They might take some things they needed and probably liked being paid to do a job, but they would rather not fight and risk their lives if they could help it. They were nominally traders, not raiders as she imagined.

Gunhild, from Captain Erikson’s crew, found a silver hair clip and a good kitchen knife, or maybe an all-purpose knife. She came and brought a chair to where Kirstie and Yrsa sat and watched the madness around them. “Men have no idea,” she said.

“I bet some of their wives would love to have some well-made kitchen utensils,” Kirstie agreed. She held on to an iron poker for the fire. She almost did not get it because a man thought it might make a good weapon.

“But men don’t think that way,” Gunhild agreed.

Not long after that, they left the town behind. Kirstie knew Wilam sent riders to the nearest fortress, to the closest lord in his manor house, and all the way to Bamburgh with the news of the raid, and before the raid even happened. He said for her not to worry. The nearest one would not get back with any soldiers until nightfall, and they would not begin to follow until morning.

“So, we have until nightfall before they are anywhere near ready to follow us,” Kirstie explained why the villagers abandoned their homes. “The nearest help is too far away for quick action. They probably won’t begin to search the area until well after we have gone. If we walk into the night, we should make it to the ships before they ride out in the morning.”

Harrold understood. They did not especially need to hurry. As long as they kept to a good pace, they should be fine.

Kirstie and Yrsa led the way again. Kare and Thoren followed. Thoren appeared to have picked up some of those kitchen items they talked about. No doubt, he wanted to make Hilda happy. Kare carried a bag of silver coins he found. He grinned a lot, but he probably would not be allowed to keep it. They would put it in the pot for the distribution, and they would ignore his complaints, but meanwhile they let him carry it and think that it was his.

Medieval 5: K and Y 17 Surprises, part 2 of 4

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Kirstie

Harrold and Ulf surprised Kirstie when they walked up to Kirstie and Harrold asked straight out. “Which way do we go?”

To Kirstie’s surprised face, Ulf added, “It is your plan. Best we travel in a way that avoids hamlets and farms where the people might see and give warning.”

“Why are you asking me? I’ve never been to Northumbria.”

Harrold smiled for her, and it was a wicked smile. “Why don’t you ask your maid and her elf friends. Maybe some of those little things that flitter around the home of the Witcher Women. Maybe this place has some little hairy men like the ones working with Svend. The blacksmith has never produced such good work as in the last year or so.”

“Dwarfs,” Kirstie said. “The little hairy men are dwarfs, and I would not recommend speaking badly of them. They are experts at holding a grudge and getting even.”

“Lady,” Yrsa interrupted. “We can go this way.” She pointed up the beach. Ulf looked around like he expected to see some fairies or light elves, but Harrold smiled more broadly and got the men up and moving.

Kirstie added one note to the captains. “We can avoid the obvious farms and Hamlets along the way, but you better tell the men to keep quiet or we will be heard long before we are seen.”

Yrsa and Kirstie walked out front and whispered. Kare and Thoren followed them like they were not about to let the women get out of sight. Kirstie looked back now and then to be sure the men were keeping up, but all she saw was Kare’s vapid smile. It made Kirstie curl her lip in response.

Kirstie could know and hear from the little ones that volunteered to lead the group, but being strictly mortal and human, she would risk getting a headache. Yrsa was tied directly into the network of little ones and could hear and sense the way to go without much effort at all. She did most of the leading and relayed the information to Kirstie, not that either of them had to concentrate on the directions. Mostly, the directions consisted of keep going straight in the direction you are going.

Around noon, Kirstie sent word back that they should be extra quiet. They had to thread the needle between two small hamlets and their farm fields that practically touched. One field had men working, but they got called off for some reason and went down the back of a hill and out of sight as the Vikings moved by. Kirstie got the word as well as Yrsa. “Someone is helping us.” Kirstie did not want to think about it.

They stopped shortly in a wooded area where they could eat and rest. “No fires,” Kirstie insisted, and the captains agreed with that.

“The smoke would be seen for miles.” Captain Erikson spelled it out.

The afternoon was much the same, and they stopped early in a meadow on the side of a hill, surrounded by deep forest. Kirstie showed the three places where the men could build their fires for the night. She explained that the rocks, and the natural contour of the hill, plus the trees would block the light from the fire. Also, the wind appeared to be blowing in the right direction to take the smoke away from the village.

“This is not good farmland, being full of rocks on the hillside,” she told the captains. “The village fields start on the other side of the hill, and there is a road that comes around the hill and leads to the village center. We can pick up the road in the morning when we reach the fields. Meanwhile, though it is less than ten days into May, the day was warm, and I expect the night will not get too cold. Let the men eat and sleep tonight so they will be rested and ready to go in the morning.”

“What about after the deed is done?” Odger asked.

“We cut diagonally through the land back to Howick. A false trail is being laid that points due east toward the sea. Even if they gather fighting men right away, and even if they have horses, they should head toward the sea. By the time they figure it out and come down the coast looking for our ships, we should be well away.” That was all Kirstie planned to say, but then she thought she better add one more note. “Just remember, we can burn houses and loot everything, but we need to drive the people away. We especially want the women and children to complain to the king. Desperate women and children will get the men in Bamburgh moving like nothing else, so no indiscriminate killing.” The captains looked like they were half listening.

Kirstie got awakened by Yrsa before dawn. Gunhild got enlisted to wake them, but Yrsa sensed they were coming so she got Kirstie up and ready. The captains Harrold, Ulf, and Odger had a request. Captain Erikson was kept out of it for some reason.

“You two need to put on your blue and green dresses,” Harrold said. “You need to go into the village and check it out. Let us know where the men are gathering, and if there are any fighters or soldiers in the town, we need to know where they are.”

“The general layout of the place would help,” Odger added.

“I expect you back here two hours after sunrise. That should give us enough time to move in and do the deed and be gone by noon. We will have to move fast but knowing what we are doing will speed things nicely.”

“You don’t want to run into a troop of soldiers or find a local fortress near the town,” Kirstie concluded.

“As you say,” Ulf spoke kindly, though it was clearly not his natural voice. “We wish to minimize the fighting and killing.”

Kirstie frowned at the men and stood. She packed her little bag and glanced at Gunhild. The woman stood with her mouth open. Who knew what she was thinking except maybe sending two young girls in to spy on a strange town seemed dangerous. Kirstie also glanced at Kare and Thoren who were not far away and still snoring, not aware that anything was happening. Kirstie caught a sudden image of Kare as a husband. The burglars could break into the house, rape her, and steal everything, and Kare would sleep through it all.

“We will be back,” Kirstie said with, “Come on Yrsa.”

“Don’t you need to change?” Harrold asked.

“Don’t worry. We will be dressed properly before we get to the village.”

Kirstie and Yrsa got to the road and out of sight of the men behind them before they changed. Kirstie called her blue dress out of Avalon. It replaced her armor and weapons. Yrsa simply had to touch her fairy weave and think what she wanted, and her leather changed into the green dress she liked.

“Let’s try and stay out of the mud,” Kirstie mumbled and said nothing else until they came to the village center. There were only a few people up and out that early. The blacksmith was stoking his fires. One woman was setting a stand in the market area and another woman complained that she was taking her spot. One man walked down the road beside an ox drawn wagon full of hay. A few men stood around the front of a shop, talking quietly, and Kirstie recognized one of them. She said, “Wilam.”

Wilam turned to see who called him. Kirstie stopped a few feet away and watched Wilam’s face turn slowly from curiosity to recognition. “Kirstie?” He got it right.

Kirstie tried not to smile too hugely. “You remembered.”

“It took a second because I never imagined, well, I imagined, but I never saw you in a proper dress,” he said. “You look very nice… Lovely… Beautiful… Stop me when I get to the right word.”

“Any of those will do fine,” she responded and looked down to check herself. She wanted to make a good appearance. “But what are you doing here?” she said, some concern creeping into her voice.

“I live here. Why? What are you doing here?” He picked up on her concern.

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

MONDAY

Kirstie spies out the Northumbrian village and has to try and save as many people as she can. Until then, Happy Reading.

*

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

M G Kizzia Leave a comment

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.”

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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.

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