Kirstie
Wilam was the navigator of his ship, answerable only to the affable Olaf, his Captain. His crewmates were mostly second and third generation Danes in the Danelaw, but like most Vikings, they were traders and explorers. Despite the bad press, even the hardcore Vikings only fought when they had to, though they also conquered when the land was good, and the opportunity presented itself. The Volga River fell into Viking hands all the way to Riga, and Normandy became a slice taken out of the Frankish coast, though hardly a safe place to be.
“Never fear, Kirstie.” Brant Svenson, Captain Olaf’s Skipari—his first officer got her attention. “We won’t keep him busy for long.” Kirstie smiled. Svenson was a good man. Kirstie appreciated him thinking of her.
“And Inga is with Soren at the moment,” Kirstie said, mentioning his weakness.
“Yes, it has been a while since I’ve seen that son of yours.” He smiled because they both knew what he meant.
“Come,” Wilam said, suddenly backing up and taking Kirstie’s hand. “There is someone who has come a long way to see you.” He pulled her to the ship where an old man started to climb slowly to the docks.
“I say, Wilam. The dock seems to be moving more than the ship.” The man muttered. Kirstie saw his face.
“Father McAndrews,” she said quietly. She curtsied ever so slightly and crossed herself for good measure.
“What? No, it can’t be.” The priest said. “But you were dressed as the warrior of the Lord the last time I saw you. You are dressed like a woman now and a wife?”
“I am, and mother,” she said, and he surprised her by giving her a hug. “But why have you left Lindisfarne?” she asked. “There is no trouble, I hope. Why are you here?”
“Relax.” He smiled. “All is well at home, and I have come to tell your people about the Christ, as you invited me to do so many years ago.”
Kirstie swallowed. The phrase loose lips sink ships came to mind. “Very courageous of you, but I’m afraid you will find hard going in this part of the world.”
“Courageous? Not nearly as courageous as a little girl alone standing down an entire army of greedy, hungry heathen determined to sack and pillage the monastery.”
“I had men that came over to my side. I was hardly alone, and the heathen were hardly more than a mob,” she said.
“That is not how the bards tell it.” He smiled. “But as for hard going, I am sixty-four years old, and have lived a good, long time. I will be content if I can teach patience to young Father Damien.” He turned his head and looked as Father Damien dropped and kicked a bundle of clothes, and all but cursed besides. His arms were full. He clearly tried to take too much at once.
“I heard that.” The young man looked at them.
“You were supposed to hear.” Father McAndrews said, kindly. Wilam took that moment to jump aboard ship. The crew started to get impatient and wanted to come ashore, but of course, they could not come until the captain gave his permission. “Now, tell me.” Father McAndrews lowered his voice. “How is Yrsa, your maid as you call her, and her husband? I remember she is married. And dare I ask, how is Gentle Annie, the angel you became? Is she all right and still watching over you?”
Kirstie was about to say Yrsa is fine, but she was not sure about herself because of the way she felt, that something was terribly wrong on Avalon; but she did not get to talk. Mother Vrya pushed up in front and spoke first.
“That is the one thing you must not speak of.” She paused to call Wilam. “Come here.”
“Yes, Mother.” Wilam said, and not one of the men snickered. The Volva deserved the respect she got.
“But that was so long ago.” The priest said. Mother Vrya tapped the cane she walked with on his toes to get his attention.
“Listen,” she said, and the Priest listened while Wilam joined them again. It occurred to Kirstie that this was the whole reason Mother Vrya was present. Her intuition must have been plaguing her all morning. “There are two men here looking for Kirstie, whom they call the Kairos. We in Strindlos will not betray her. The men intend only evil. Do you know what I mean by evil?” she asked the good Father.
“Indeed,” he responded. He listened intently now.
“Talk of Elgar and the others is strictly forbidden until they leave, and if they ask, you will lie, you know nothing, do you understand?”
“I do not lie.” Father McAndrews looked straight into Mother Vrya’s eyes so she could see for herself that even then he told the truth. “But I know how to keep a sacred trust. Father Damien.” He turned to get his young companion’s attention but kept his voice low. “All talk about the woman in question and her… companions we spoke of on the voyage is henceforth confidential. Keep it as a confession.”
The young man stopped and looked. He clearly had questions but nodded. “As a confession,” he said.
“That means he will suffer torture and death before discussing it. Will that do?” Father McAndrews got blunt. Mother Vrya looked again in the old man’s eyes; a man even older than herself.
“Yes,” she said. “I see you understand many things.”
“Not nearly enough.” The priest admitted.
“Nor I.” Mother Vrya confessed before turning to Wilam. “You play stupid,” she said. “And tell your crew if they loose their tongues, they will lose them, and if the girl is harmed because of their loose tongue, they will lose their manhood as well.” It was as brutal a warning as Kirstie ever heard uttered, and the fact that it came out of sweet, nurturing, little old Mother Vrya shocked her a little. She turned her head to look for the two men in question. The big one was Gruden, or some name like that, and the little one was Lind or something. She remembered better seeing them before. She should remember them now since the days of Yasmina. Kirstie barely had time to find them in the oncoming crowd when Mother Vrya grabbed her by the elbow and made her walk.
“It is not safe for you to be near those men. They can sense things. I can tell.” Mother Vrya spoke quietly and calmly like the spring day it was.
“Captain Olaf.” Kirstie blurted out. They missed him passing by them on the dock. “What if he says something?”
“I caught him before he reached the others,” Mother Vrya said. And they got silent as they came within earshot of the crowd. Captain Olaf and the Village chief, Kerga led the pack.
“I’m dropping them. They are yours, like it or not. They paid for no return passage.” Olaf said in his fat, old voice.
“So?” Kerga did not understand.
Olaf guffawed. “Now you’ll have to put up with their prattle.”
“What do they prattle about?” Kerga guessed.
“They are Christian monks who speak about the one, true god. That is not a bad thing, but they could take a breath. There are other things in this world worth talking about.” Olaf said, and Vrya and Kirstie walked on.
“Tell me of this one,” Mother Vrya said as soon as it was safe.
Kirstie knew who she was talking about. “One of the ones from Lindisfarne that I spoke of years ago. A Christian priest and a young priest with him that I do not know.” Kirstie grabbed Mother Vrya’s hand and exacted a sudden role reversal, speaking as if she was the mother and Vrya was the child. “You must listen to these men and learn. What they say is utterly true and it will save us all in the end. There is no other way.” Her words were not very clear, but Mother Vrya accepted what she said, and even accepted the role reversal.
“I will listen,” she said. “I will learn, though it would have been better to hear this truth from a woman.”
Kirstie smiled before she rolled her eyes. “Not in this lifetime.” She snickered and Mother Vrya understood very well.
“Some other day, perhaps,” she said.
“Someday,” Kirstie said. “But for us, we must make the best of it and accept the tools the greatness of life sends us.”
“And if Life has chosen men to speak to us, we will listen,” Mother Vrya concluded.
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