Gnomes

Golden Door Chapter 18 James at the Door, part 1 of 2

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“Before we move off,” Pug rubbed his bearded chin as he spoke. “I’ve been thinking about James fallin’ off the bear. Let me see if there is something I can do.” He put fingers to his lips and let out a shrill whistle. The bear returned, moving carefully on the rocky path. Two mountain goats followed, far less concerned than the bear about slipping on the wet stones. Picker and Poker got one goat. James and Grubby got up on the other, which left Pug and Mrs. Copperpot to ride the bear. Warthead did not need the help, and they were not sure he was coming until he followed them down from the cave.

Down at the bottom of the hill, Pug made them get down and stop and wait. The goats, not comfortable so near the bear, headed back into the hills to be lost among the rocks. The bear also wandered off, but James got the impression it would be close if needed. It got uncomfortable when the rain started again, but they sheltered under the edge of the trees, which helped a bit. Mrs. Copperpot pulled out her cooking spoon and stared at James. She had something in mind but at the moment, James really did not want to know.  He preferred to listen to Grubby complain about the rain.

“Don’t you know that I’m like cotton candy. I’m gonna wither and melt in the rain, like the Wicked Witch of the West. Why do you think imps live in the desert?  I’m like a sponge and all this rain is gonna make me swell up until I’m Warthead’s size and you’re gonna have to wring me out like a wet washcloth and hang me on a line to dry. The rain is getting in through my hair.” He did have a hairy little body for one so young. “It’s gonna soak my insides all the way to my spine and I’m gonna get ricketies and Arthur-itis and have to walk bent over like old dotter human people.  Sheesh!”

Mrs. Copperpot ignored the imp and clunked James on the head with her spoon. She held both Picker’s and Poker’s hands with one hand so she could give James a real bonk.

“Ouch.” James felt his head and imagined he would find a lump any minute.

“I should have done this right from the start, but it is hard to remember what human people are like,” Mrs. Copperpot said. “Now you got some dwarf endurance and no excuse for not keeping up. You will never run with the elves, but you can set a spritely pace and keep it up all day.”

“Thank you,” James said before they heard a rustling of leaves in the forest. A pack of a dozen wolves poked their heads out from the trees and two came right up to Pug.

Pug introduced the gnomes riding on those two wolves as Bogus and Reese, and they got down to join the others. James thought Smurfs, but he hoped he did not say it out loud. Besides, they were not blue.

“Now it is our turn,” Pug said, even when James realized that Reese was a girl. She stepped up first, and they all took turns with Pug giving James a big hug. That was it. There was no singing or chanting or dancing or pelting James with dust or dirt or grass or anything; and there was no hitting on the head either, for which James was grateful. When they were done, a she wolf stepped right up to James. James felt surprised to know it was a she wolf, but she wolf or he wolf, James still had to hold his feet to the ground and not run. The wolf thought at him. That was how James described it, like a picture suddenly transported into his mind. Then the wolf licked his face and James tried not to say, “Eww.”

“Ride with me,” the she-wolf thought, and James did not dare argue. He got on the wolf’s back as carefully as he could to avoid pulling the wolf’s hair.

“Hold on with your knees, like on a horse,” Pug instructed, though James had never ridden a horse so he could only guess. “And there is a handful of skin at the back of the wolf’s neck you can grab. It won’t hurt her.”

Pug got everyone up on other members of the pack, though Picker and Poker were rightly scared, and Warthead, of course, needed no such help, having very long legs to carry him along. Neither was there a wolf that could hold him. Even the bear would have struggled with Warthead’s weight, despite Warthead’s youth. But at last, when everyone got ready, Pug led them into the dark, rain-soaked forest. Bogus and Reese brought up the rear with the pups in the pack.

It did not take long to reach the spot where they encountered the spiders. Mrs. Copperpot, Pug and Grubby kept looking up whenever they came to a clear spot, though James imagined it had to be impossible to see anything through the rain. James did not want to look, and he did not feel happy about being out in the wilderness when he started to hear the thunder and lightning in the distance.

“Rain’s gonna get dangerous when the lightning catches us,” Bogus yelled from the rear.

“Keep your eyes open for tornadoes,” Reese added, and Picker and Poker both yelped at the idea of tornadoes. Grubby did not mind so much because he thought Reese said watch out for the tomatoes.

They came to the rough, side path that led to the postern gate and moved carefully, eyes, ears, and noses as open as they could be. It was not long before they came to the wall, and the path took them to the left, toward the gate itself.

“And I thought this little, forgettable gate might be unguarded,” Mrs. Copperpot mumbled.

“I thought the same,” Pug agreed. “I said I have been watching this gate, but the demon in the castle doesn’t miss a trick. She has all the basic guards here, like all the gates. You found the snakes. The spiders were a bit of a surprise. Then, we got the bats.”

“Bats?” Mrs. Copperpot interrupted.

“Oh, sure,” Pug said, clearly not thinking about what he was saying. “Vampire bats, big as your dwarf arm.”

“Bats,” Mrs. Copperpot yelled, and the wolves certainly understood something. They began to turn around even as the sky filed with a cloud darker than the rainclouds, and one that flapped and screeched.

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

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Kirstie

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So, will you marry me?”

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

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

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

“That was quick,” Inga said.

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

“Is that how you feel about your wife?”

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

“So, the goddess?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Medieval 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 15 The Norman Hag, part 2 of 3

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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: Genevieve 5 External Attacks, part 4 of 5

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One pirate ship on Otto’s side pushed to the riverbank and quickly unloaded, thinking they could break through the line of archers and join up with the two hundred and fifty marching up beside the river. The last two ships in the back of the procession, saw what was happening and began to back-stroke. The current helped them, and they soon got out of range. Margueritte let out another quiet “Damn.” Nearly half of their ships will escape, and we still have a small army of pirates on the other side of the river.”

“No, Lady,” A fairy said as she fluttered up close on butterfly wings. “Leodek the dwarf brought his whole troop of a hundred down from the Alpilles. A hundred gnomes of Camargue brought their bows. And my people are not so many, but we brought our bows as well. The pirates stopped moving and looked for cover when the arrows began to fly. They panicked when Leodek and the dwarfs charged, though I think it was mostly the three ogres and the mountain troll that really caused the panic.”

“Yes, Lady Tamarisk,” Margueritte said, knowing the fairy’s name without having to hardly think about it. Margueritte tapped her shoulder, and the fairy beamed for joy at the invitation and carefully came to sit on the shoulder, hardly tugging at all on Margueritte’s hair to get comfortable, while Margueritte moved slowly to where she could see how things went.

“Well,” Lady Tamarisk continued. “Some of the pirates got chopped to little pieces. I cannot lie about that, but I did not have to watch. Some tried for the river. Maybe they wanted to let the current take them away from the slaughter, or maybe thought to swim across the river if they could. But every one that went in the water got pulled down into the deep and never came back up. That is sad. Some ran back the way they came. I think they escaped, but I am not certain.

“And the shipload that attacked the other side?”

“They were stopped. Some surrendered. A few got close to the slaughter and decided to turn around and surrender. I guess they decided it was no good trying to surrender to a berserker dwarf or an ogre.”

“No. That would not have worked.” Margueritte took a deep breath and thought hard to Leodek, the dwarf chief, to make sure he let the men go that ran away. He protested, but only a little.

She approached the men in the three front ships and the two ships that edged up to the riverbank on her side, one being before the blockade and the other being beyond. Her four hundred surviving soldiers had nearly a hundred and fifty prisoners. She imagined Otto saved most of his hundred and fifty and maybe had fifty more prisoners. She also imagined there might be two hundred pirates and five ships where the river met the sea, and they would escape. It was a terrible toll for the pirates to lose more than half their ships and more than half their men, but you never know with pirates. All it might do is make them plan more carefully next time, and maybe not try to bite off such a big target.

“Thank you Lady Tamarisk for your information. I am sorry there are so many men around here. Maybe you should return to your troop. Please thank them all for their help and thank the gnomes too.”

“And the dwarfs?” Lady Tamarisk asked.

Margueritte sighed as she nodded. She blinked and missed the sight of the butterfly that flew from her shoulder. Her eyes were taken by the vision before her. It was Leibulf. He found her at the edge of the river. He came up, his sword drawn and dripping with blood. He looked painted with blood, and he was smiling. Margueritte could not hold back the tide. Genevieve yelled in Margueritte’s head until Margueritte relented and let Genevieve return to her own place and time, and right in front of a bunch of men. Genevieve immediately slapped Leibulf hard on his cheek and turned her yelling on him.

“Men died. Maybe bad men, but they died. I don’t ever want to see you smiling about killing. Not ever. You owe God an apology. And you owe your father an apology as well. You did your duty. Good for you. But you were not supposed to even be in the fighting.” Genevieve found some tears, and no one disturbed her in her grief. Leibulf gave her a quick hug and wisely went to find his father.

Genevieve sat right there on the ground overlooking the river and thought of nothing. She decided her armor felt really comfortable, even when she was in her eighth month. She might wear it more often, but then she might just get some fairy weave that she could make to look like a dress. Fairy weave had the remarkable ability to stretch to fit and be comfortable no matter how big she got, not that she could exactly be comfortable in her eighth and ninth months, regardless. She remembered from last time.

She had to get a passing soldier to help her up when she saw someone she recognized. It was not who she expected, but it was also no surprise. She followed behind the man who walked trapped between two guardsmen, a lieutenant of sorts leading the way.

They stopped short of Otto, who was presently instructing the men in the cleanup of one ship stuck on the riverbank. Genevieve thought of converting the pirate ships to merchant vessels, but they would have to be pulled up into dry dock and given a good look. Some appeared hardly better than salvage.

The prisoner who stood between two soldiers looked around when Otto turned to them to listen. The lieutenant spoke.

“This man claims to be friends with your wife, from Breisach. He claims to be a poor merchant whose ship got caught up in what he thought was a trading expedition. He swears he did not know they were pirates. He says they killed most of his crew and replaced them with wicked men. He says the only reason they kept him alive was because he knew his own ship and could navigate.”

“Please. You have got to believe me…” the man begged, and Genevieve remembered the grating voice as she recognized the man. He was older, perhaps older than Otto, but not so changed that she would not know him.

“Liar,” she shouted.

The man spun around and shouted her name. “Genevieve!”

“Signore Lupen.” She named the man. “You have been a liar from the beginning.”

“No. You know I am quick to take advantage of the chance to make money, but legitimate money. I did not know these men were pirates. I swear.”

“Liar,” Genevieve repeated herself. “Is Antonio with you, and Baldy, what’s-his-name.”

“Berlio? No, they are home, looking at other venues.”

“Charles is not here,” she said abruptly. He tried not to grin, but it was enough to convict in Genevieve’s mind.

Mister Lupen looked down at the ground and muttered very softly, “Mercy.” The guards loosened their grip and he sipped a knife from his sleeve. The guards were not that lax, however. He did not get far, and one of the men in the crowd that gathered to watch hit the man on the back of the head with the pommel of his long knife. Mister Lupen’s knife fell to the ground.

“God may have mercy on you,” Genevieve said. “But down here, you are a danger to yourself and others, too dangerous to let live.” She frowned. “At the risk of sounding like the Queen of Hearts, off with his head.”

The lieutenant looked at Otto, but Otto did not hesitate. “You heard my wife. He may be the first, but he won’t be the last of these pirates to lose his head.”

The guards gripped Mister Lupen tightly by his arms. He was not going anywhere except to the chopping block, and he knew it, but he had one more thing to say.

“Charles is not the only target.”

Genevieve was not surprised by that revelation. She gave Otto a quick kiss when she turned her back on the man and the soldiers dragged him off. Otto looked dirty, but not splattered with blood like Leibulf. “I may lie down for a bit,” she said. Let me know if anything exciting happens.

Medieval 5: Genevieve 5 External Attacks, part 3 of 5

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Margueritte took Leibulf with her into the Camargue. She could not go far until she saw what the pirates did and where they landed, but she wanted to talk to the sprites in the Marshlands when others were not around. The water sprites in the shallow, briny inland seas were a different sort of water babies. They still had the shape of little gelatin looking gingerbread men, but they looked dirty, being colored by mud and sand, and had prickers on them, much like a cactus. Their voices were still child-like but not exactly baby-sweet. For once, Margueritte did not feel like picking one up and hugging it. They looked rather like little swamp things, and Leibulf took one step back on seeing them.

“Our sea cousins report that they have not overheard any serious plans the pirates may have. They have talked about landing at the base of the Grande Rhone where they will decide what to do, but that is it.”

“Thank you, my friends. Keep the brine churning for the birds and the flowers,” Margueritte said.

“We will,” they shouted joyfully and went back to their work which they thought of as the best kind of play. Margueritte turned to the gnomes that oversaw the fields, and the horses, cattle, and sheep that covered the land.

“We have moved our wild and manade charges away from the coast,” the chief gnome started right up. “But we have no more idea what the pirates intend than the water blobs.”

Margueritte shook her head. Her various little ones did not always think or speak kindly about one another. Water Blob was not exactly a loving description, but she spoke on a different thought. “So you know, men will likely fight and blood will color the ground red. I know you will take care of all the birds and animals in the Camargue, only be careful. I would not wish to see any of you get hurt.”

The gnomes smiled at the idea that their goddess was concerned about them, to not want them hurt. They bowed and disappeared mostly blending into the landscape but with a judicious use of invisibility so the humans would never know they were there.

“So, we have to wait?” Leibulf asked.

Margueritte shook her head. “We bring the army down to the salt works, what will one day be Salin-de-Giraud, and we will send spies out from there to see if we can discern or discover the enemy’s plans. We will at least be in a position from there to cut the river and keep the pirates from sailing up the river to Arles.”

That movement took most of the next day. Otto sent riders to the Benedictines and Cistercians in the Camargue to warn them of the potential danger, and then they camped north of the salt works. Otto had requisitioned every boat and river ship and barge he could find in Arles. They carried his troops downriver, and then they would be used to block the river if the pirates chose to sail up the river toward the city. Once again, they waited.

By the time they set their camp, the first pirate ships were landing in the mouth of the river. No one expected any movement in the night. All the same, Margueritte posted sentries to watch for any movement in the marshes and fields. The moon was half-full and the sky sprinkled with clouds so it was not easy to see much in the dark. Margueritte just hoped movement might be seen if the enemy got close.

The army got up well before dawn and ate well, expecting to get in the midst of a fight before noon. The pirates, in contrast, had no idea an army was waiting for them just up the river. They probably imagined by the time the people of Arles realized they were coming they would practically be at the doorstep of the city. If they arranged for a traitor to let them in, they just might succeed.

Margueritte had to think about who might be willing to betray the city in that way. All she could imagine was Moslems in Marseille, Pagan and Orthodox pirates in Arles and Catholics in the countryside. That would throw Provence into a massive struggle and confusion. It was only two generations since Charles’ grandfather, Charles Martel threw the Moslems out of Provence entirely. She imagined there might still be some sympathies there.

When the pirates began their trek to Arles, Otto and Margueritte were both surprised. Roughly half of the pirates, around two hundred and fifty, were sailing up the river in eight ships. That was not unexpected. The river was perfectly navigable up to Arles, baring times of flooding. The other half, however, were marching up the far side of the river and appeared like they had every intention of ignoring the salt works and the monasteries and heading straight for the city.

“They must have arranged a way to get men into the city,” Otto concluded what they all thought at that point.

“But who would do such a thing?” Even Leibulf wondered.

“Not the first time a commander has guessed wrong,” Margueritte said of herself. “Let’s see if we can keep this from turning into a disaster.”

“I would guess they plan to attack the docks first thing and open the river gate,” Leibulf added for his father, and they scrambled to use their riverboats to ferry men across the river before the boats were needed to block the river. They got about a hundred and fifty men across, and Otto opted to lead those men.

“I get easily seasick,” he said as his excuse.

Margueritte struggled to get the riverboats lined up, stretched across the river. She tied some together where the current was strongest and anchored them to keep them from slipping downstream but she wanted to tie them all together to fully block the way. There was no time. At best she could loop them together in a poorly knitted fashion. She got some two hundred and fifty men into those boats, so they would match the pirates in numbers, but that left her with roughly two hundred and fifty on the wrong side of the river.

“Line up,” she yelled at the men that remained on her riverbank. “Get your bows to the ready.” She probably did not wait long enough, but as soon as the pirate ships came within range she yelled, “Keep your heads down and fire.” Nearly two hundred and fifty arrows came from the reeds and bushes along the riverbank. Some were a bit slow, but soon enough the soldiers had to pick their targets. Some pirates got cut down before they all ducked. For the ones closest to the western shore, the ships had to practically row blindly, not daring to raise their heads.

“Damn,” Margueritte mumbled quietly to herself. She should have arranged for flaming arrows. She should have had bowmen on both sides of the river. “Damn,” she said it again.

Otto should have arrayed his men in the best defensive position he could find, but the pirates marching up the bank of the river were coming on slower than the ships. They were being careful to not run into some marsh or bog. Otto gambled and turned his men to the river. Thus, Margueritte did get her bowmen on both sides, and the pirate ships became a death trap. When they reached the riverboat wall, against all orders, the soldiers of Otto and the men of Arles swarmed out of the boats on to the first three ships like ants at a picnic. The fourth, on Margueritte’s side, crashed through Margueritte’s poor knitting job, but barely went further.

The current in the river proved stronger than the pirates imagined. Rowing the twenty-some miles to Arles was not going to happen. About the time they realized they were not going to escape and began to drift back down the river Margueritte got her water sprites to make something like bridges that her men could walk across to the ships. The one that broke through her barrier and was lazily drifting back in her direction, and another one following the first three was also taken. In fact, when the pirates saw the men of Provence walking on the water, many threw down their weapons and surrendered. Some, not very pirate-like, fell to their knees and wept fully believing that God Almighty must be on the side of the Provencal people.

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

MONDAY

The pirates are stopped, but Margueritte (and Genevieve) wonder what sort of traitor would actually open the gate to Arles. Until then, Happy Reading

*

Medieval 5: Genevieve 2 Prince Charming, part 1 of 4

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The year 772 was an exceptionally good year. The fall harvest from the farm paid very well. Genevieve tried not to imagine her elf and fairy friends had anything to do with that, but they might have. “So, the army is buying up all the food,” Genevieve surmised.

“Who cares,” Gisela said.

“As long as we get the money,” Ursula said. “I need a new dress.” She looked at her mother.

“I wonder who they are going to war with,” Genevieve said out loud.

“Not our concern,” Mother Ingrid responded before she had a second thought. “Unless they come this way.” She seemed to be thinking hard. “Clean up the kitchen,” she told Genevieve and wandered off to do some heavy thinking.

In the end, Mother Ingrid hired an older couple who were in fact gnomes, or house elves, or brownies of some sort depending on who was describing them, not that Mother Ingrid or the girls ever suspected. Honestly, it was all Genevieve could get based on what Mother Ingrid was willing to pay. The old man, Otl would clean up the barn and the grounds. The old woman, Matthild would keep the kitchen and cook. Genevieve still had the housecleaning and the laundry and such, but the old woman helped a bit and that was some relief. In truth, the old man and the old woman were especially kind to Genevieve, at least when Mother Ingrid and the girls were not around, but that was easy because Genevieve, despite everything, had grown into a kind and caring person—very Cinderella-like.

Around the beginning of March in the following year of 773, Genevieve, in good Cinderella fashion, was cleaning out the big kitchen fireplace which backed up to the fireplace in the sitting room. They used the same chimney. The kitchen fireplace was nearly always lit for cooking purposes, but when there was no fire in either, as was the case when Genevieve had to clean them out, what was said in one room would echo into the other, not loudly, but discernable if you were in the actual fireplace. Mother Ingrid could easily be heard.

“Genevieve will be eighteen soon enough, and there are some in town who will make sure she takes full possession of the house and property.”

“But Mother,” Ursula whined. “What does that mean for us?”

“It means no more shopping,” Gisela answered. “No more jewels, or clothes, or fine things for us.”

“Oh,” Ursula let out a small wail. She sounded like she did not like that idea. “But Mother, if we were married we could have husbands who could provide for us.”

“If I could find you husbands… I thought to place you in an advantageous position but that is not going to happen…” Mother Ingrid did not explain.

“Maybe if Genevieve married.” Gisela was thinking. “Maybe her husband could take her away and we could have this place for ourselves.”

“No!” Mother Ingrid practically shouted. “I have had three proposals for Genevieve’s hand, two knights and one baron, and I turned them all down. I even tried to say the eldest needs to marry first and turn the baron to Ursula, but he wanted no part of that.”

“But Mother.” Gisela had some brains but she tended to get stuck on her own idea. “If Genevieve married…”

“No,” Mother Ingrid said more softly in her calm-the-distraught-child voice. “Genevieve would have a son and lay claim to all this county forever. No. She will die an old maid as far as I am concerned, and before twenty-one, if possible.”

“Why twenty-one?” Ursula asked. It sounded like Ursula was trying to think. The poor girl would just give herself a headache.

“Because, even if she inherits the manor house at eighteen, I still control the tenant properties, the income, and taxes until she is twenty-one. She may have to have an accident before she takes it all,” Mother Ingrid said, without spelling out what kind of accident she had in mind.

Genevieve heard footsteps away from the fireplace and rushed to the water basin where she could clean her face and hands up to the elbows. She pushed her blonde locks behind her ears and grabbed a cloth and the wood oil jug and hurried to the dining room. “Genevieve,” she heard Mother Ingrid yell up the stairs assuming Genevieve was up there making the beds.

Genevieve glanced at the kitchen door where she saw Matthild stick her head into the dining room. She had come back in from doing the morning dishes and mouthed the words, “I’ll finish the fireplace.” Genevieve nodded her thanks as an impatient Mother Ingrid called again.

“Genevieve.”

“Here, Mother,” Genevieve responded sweetly and came from the dining room door into the entrance hall.

Mother Ingrid paused to look at the sitting room and back at the dining room as if judging the distance and wondering if maybe Genevieve overheard. She pretended Genevieve had not heard, and Genevieve betrayed no emotions to indicate otherwise. “You need to go into town and get a dozen eggs,” Mother Ingrid said and went back into the sitting room without another thought.

Genevieve brushed herself off and took her shawl from the hook. It was not the warmest shawl, just better than nothing. She looked down at her slippers. Boots would be nice for slushing through the snow that still clung to the roadway, but she did not have any boots. She borrowed Gisela’s big boots once and got in big trouble. She imagined her feet would be half-frozen by the time she got to town.

Genevieve followed Mother Ingrid into the sitting room and stuck her hand out. She said nothing. Mother Ingrid all but growled but went to the bureau in the corner where she kept a few coins in the top drawer. No one knew where Mother Ingrid kept her main stash of money.

“That is all there is,” she said as she put a few pitiful pennies in Genevieve’s hand. “You need to bargain better.”

Genevieve kept her hand out and frowned at the meagre funds. She would be lucky to get two eggs for that little. She put the coins in the pocket of her dress and went to the door without argument. She would figure something out, or she would get a beating.

Genevieve waded through the thin layer of snow to the front gate and only once shrugged her shawl up tighter around her neck. Her mind focused on what she heard. She would never be allowed to marry. She would never be allowed to have children of her own. She stiffened her lips, not just from the cold, and her shoulders began to droop but pulled back up against the wind. Her warmest outfit was not much help when the cold wind blew. She stopped at the gate when a group of men rode up and stopped on the other side of the fence. The old man out front made a comment.

“This is the place. I am fairly sure. It was thirteen years ago, you understand.”

Genevieve looked up and looked closely at the face. There seemed something familiar about the face, and Margueritte, her immediate past life blurted out the name. “Bernard.”

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

MONDAY

King Charles (Charlemagne) arrives and surprises Genevieve. Until then, Happy Reading

*

Reflections Flern-12 part 1 of 3

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Three four wheeled, double-axle wagons, each drawn by a double team of horses—a terrible breach of the temporal order—stopped just outside the village beneath the mountain pass. Scores of gnomes of various sorts, some like imps and some like dwarfs, swarmed all over the wagons, greased every joint, checked all the stress points, tracked the cargo, and set the horses free to be groomed and fed.

Some hundred and twenty light elves: elves, brownies, kobold and various fairies came behind the wagons and camped at a distance beneath the village, along the Dnepr River. They would be joined by thirty elves from Miroven, the ones led by Laurel that Flern thought of as her own personal guardians. Fifty sturdy dwarfs with three ogres under Balken’s command would march beside them, down from Movan Mountain. In the night, more than a hundred dark elves, goblins mostly with a couple of trolls, would move down the mountain to guard the precious cargo in the hours of darkness.

That precious cargo in the wagons was the promised bronze, weapons in the first wagon – swords, spears and plenty of arrows. The second wagon carried mostly weapons as well, but on Flern’s insistence it also carried some plows, hoes and such tools that would benefit the people. The third wagon held the tools and pieces to put together their own forge along with enough raw material to get them started. Pinn and the boys had high hopes once they set their families free. Thrud and Vinnu were pregnant and just wanted to get home.

Eight young people and Riah the elf, wearing a glamour to make her appear human, with Goldenwing at rest and hidden in her horse’s mane, rode ahead to meet the village elders and the waiting travelers. The travelers spent six months moving down the Dinester and back up the Dnepr drumming up support in every town and village along the way. There were presently some four hundred people, mostly men and mostly hunters camped on the grasslands across the river to the east.

“Good to see you.” Venislav was the one who spoke for the village. “Our food stores are exhausted.”

Flern figured that. “I have people bringing game and bread from the Brugh and others bringing in a whole herd from the wilderness between the rivers.”

“Good to hear,” Tird said. He rode on horseback beside Venislav. Trell, hair greased down which made him almost unrecognizable, rode beside Karenski of the travelers.

“Where are the girls?” Pinn asked.

“Vincas and Arania?” Flern remembered.

“Measuring their tummies,” Trell said with a straight face before he grinned and gave a sideways glance at Tird who returned the grin.

“Vinnu and Thrud are pregnant, too,” Flern said

“Flern and I are still working on it,” Pinn added.

“Children.” That was all Karenski said before they turned to ride into the village. They were going to feast that night, pass out weapons in the morning, and from the way some of the elders acted, hopefully leave in the afternoon. Flern knew it would not be quite so easy.

It was Vilder who nudged Pinn and that got Flern’s attention. Venislav and Karenski also paid attention as it seemed they agreed to stick close to Flern. “There are campfires there at the foot of the pass.” Vilder pointed. Flern shook her head. It was not Movan or Miroven. She did not know who they might be. But it appeared as if three people headed their way.

“Ah,” Venislav made the sound before he spoke. “They came down the pass two days ago and claim to be from the other side of the mountain and the plateau, though I cannot imagine it. They say the plateau is full of monsters.”

“Hello!” One of the oncoming three waved and yelled. Vilder at least returned the wave. The other waited until they were close enough for Pinn to shout.

“Fritt!” When they got closer, Pinn’s word became a question. “Fritt?” Fat Fritt no longer looked fat.

“Nadia.” Flern recognized the girl and gave her a sisterly kiss in greeting before she remembered she never met the girl. Wlvn did. Nadia looked embarrassed, even if it had been explained to her. Fortunately, the third member of their party took everyone’s attention when he dropped to one knee.

“Mother of old,” he said.

Flern remembered the young man from her brief time on the plateau, or rather Faya’s time. “Horan. My name is Flern if you don’t mind. I’m not sure I like the old part.”

“From the plateau?” Pinn asked. She wanted to be sure.

Flern knew what she was asking. She nodded. He was Were, a shape shifter who had the good sense to appear human. “Come on,” she said. “We are going to eat food.”

At the door to the main building, which would not be nearly big enough for all the chiefs, Flern ran into Elluin. She also looked pregnant and very glad to see them. She made a point of saying that Drud had been good that whole time. Flern did not exactly believe her when she noticed that Drud stayed conspicuously absent from the festivities.

“I’m feeling left out,” Pinn complained. She did not have to spell it out that she wanted a baby. Flern took her arm as they went inside.

“We will just have to work at it harder,” she said, and got lost for a minute in her own thoughts.

In the morning took all day. They had a limited number of swords and spears to hand out and tried to get them into the right hands. They had the ungodly number of a thousand arrows with bronze tips. Everyone got two.

Miroven and Movan arrived in time for breakfast, which did wonders for the food supply. It also scared some of the locals and the travelers when they heard the food came from the Brugh. That great forest was seen as the land of ghosts and spirits and unnatural things. Flern wisely had the troops camp beside the Were, well away from the village and the sight of men.

It did not get much better when her gnomes brought in the herd from the land between the rivers that evening. Flern had a makeshift pen constructed that used a natural bend in the river. It gave all those men something to do other than sit around and gripe. But then, she insisted her gnomes stay invisible when they brought in the beasts, and it got hard for some of the men to watch the beasts they normally hunted willingly move into captivity unguided by any hands. Of course, some by then had settled on the idea that Flern was the witch. Curiously, that comforted many of the men, like they had a secret weapon.

As the sun set, Karenski took up speaking where Venislav left off. “I see you have men camped some distance below the wagons and have not brought them up to join the other men.” From a distance, they mostly looked like men.

Flern stood with Kined to watch the sunset and she took Kined’s hand while he spoke. “Not a good idea.”

“They don’t mix well,” Flern added.

Karenski looked thoughtful. “And also, I know the ones camped at the foot of the pass are more than we can see. We know them only by the fires they light in the night.”

“Best to leave them alone,” Kined said.

Karenski nodded. “But to be curious, may I ask how many fighters you have brought?”

“Enough to double the number of men camped on the grasses.”

“So many?” Karenski acted surprised, but it appeared to be an act. Venislav spoke then what was on his mind.

“So, what do we do next?”

“We leave in the morning,” Flern said, and squeezed Kined’s hand. “It will take the men close to a week to cross the land between here and our village. The ones by the pass will stay above them the whole way and the ones below the wagons will stay below them. That way the Jaccar will not be able to sneak around and surprise the men from the side or from the rear.”

“Such wisdom, and from children,” Karenski smiled.

“I almost wish the Jaccar would get around behind the men in the night,” Kined said, and he grinned as he thought about it.

Flern quickly explained. “There is a third group who will follow behind the men. It would be best if you did not ask about them at all.”

“I see,” Karenski sounded thoughtful again. “I think I better go tell my people to stay close to their homes in the night.”

“Yes, me too,” said Venislav

“Good idea,” Flern said. Vilder, Gunder and Tiren were presently telling the men in the camp that very thing.

M4 Margueritte: Watch and Rescue, part 3 of 3

M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Luckless and his dwarfs started milling around the courtyard, waiting impatiently for someone to break in.  Grimly and his gnomes were still moving livestock back into the makeshift pens in the collapsed barn.  Goldenrod went down there.  The dogs got free when the kennels busted and the fence got knocked down, and now Goldenrod rode on Puppy’s back trying to corral the chickens that were still running wild all over the yard.  Margueritte almost laughed.  Then she caught sight of the boys.  Somehow, they escaped the underground and the clutches of Lolly and the dwarf wives.

Margueritte jumped up.  Her mind raced.  In seconds, every little one in the area had Pepin, Cotton, Weldig Junior and Martin corralled.  Somehow, the boys talked them into letting them climb the back wall, to watch the battle. Margueritte thought extra hard, though she hoped it did not come across as yelling.

“Heurst.  If you let them watch, you better make sure they don’t escape and try to join the fight.  If your men are needed, you better send sufficient men to escort them back underground, safely.”  Then she had a headache and imagined if she did much more of that she would get a migraine.

Margueritte refused to watch the battle.  She heard enough commentary from Elsbeth and Margo. She heard nothing from Calista and Melanie, but inside she understood they were both disappointed at not being allowed to be down in it.  Still, they did not mind guarding the women.  They understood the women, and children needed to be kept safe.

At the same time, Margueritte wondered what made certain elf maidens so bloodthirsty.  She hoped there was not some subtle influence she gave off or had given off through the centuries.  She had to admit, it was probably her fault.  Even without looking, she understood what happened down on the battlefield better than Margo or Elsbeth, who watched and explained.  Both Gerraint and Festuscato said it was not their fault.  The Princess and Diogenes both begged off responsibility.  Both Greta and Doctor Mishka said they were in the business of trying to save lives, and the storyteller said, peace baby, though no one laughed.  Margueritte answered them all.  It is all of my fault, and something terrible about the human race.  Sin, as Patrick or Boniface would say, and there will be no avoiding it until the Lord returns.

Margueritte finally looked when the big charge was due to come.  Ragenfrid tried several smaller attacks, individually, and several at once, but they got beaten back.  He tried sneaking men closer by using the cover Michael and David so conveniently put out, but that just got his men picked off by the elf archers on the wall.  Now it became time for the all-out attack.  Margueritte looked, hoping David and Michael had the good sense to pull back into the castle.  she squinted, but she could not send mental messages to Michael and David as she could to her little ones.  Just as well.  She was not down there and maybe they had an idea she did not think of.

“Hey,” Elsbeth shouted.  “Whose men are those?”

“What?” Margo asked and tried to see where Elsbeth pointed.

Margueritte saw and sighed a great sigh of relief.  “Hunald,” she said.  “From Aquitaine.  Probably advanced units on the point.  I hope Michael and David can hold the fort.  It would be terrible to have the enemy break in at the last second.”

“The charge came, but David and Michael apparently got the word, and so did Peppin and duBois.  Their men came out of the gates and struck the charge on each side.  Ragenfrid got boxed in, and did not advance, though the fighting got bloody.  As Hunald’s men moved more and more into the town on Ragenfrid’s rear, he finally gave up and squirted past duBois and back down the Paris Road.  He left his wounded where they lay, and now he had to think hard on how he would possibly break into the castle.  He still was not ready to concede defeat, even if Amager got ready to go home to Tours and Bouchart stayed frozen with indecision.

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Hunald moved his five thousand men up into the half-burned town before dark.  David, Michael, duBois, and Peppin brought their men inside the castle.  There were lots of wounded to tend and Doctor Mishka took the first shift.  The elves, kobold, brownies, fairies, local dwarfs, and gnomes all went back into the woods.  Luckless and his smiths stayed, as did Grimly and his horse breeders, but they stayed to their place and tasks and otherwise made themselves scarce.

At sundown, having treated the worst that she reasonably felt she could save, Doctor Mishka checked with Doctor Pincher who treated the wounded among the little ones.  Doctor Pincher did not hide the fact that there were casualties, though being confined to bowshot distance, outside of a few hardheaded dwarfs, the casualties were slight.  Even so, Doctor Mishka cried for each one, and when Margueritte returned, she cried some more.

Margueritte went out to meet Hunald, followed by the ever-present Calista and Melanie, and a dozen men assigned by Childemund and Peppin.  King David, Michael of Nantes and Childemund himself went with her.  Walaric had the young men guarding the stables, the forges, and the horses they had to care for.  Peppin walked with Elsbeth and Margo and had one of the castle clerics write down everything they could find that needed repair.  He was still compiling the list at sundown when Margueritte went out.

Hunald waited for her, and spoke up right away, even waving to her from a distance, and smiled in a most pleasant way.  Margueritte came up to him and right in front of his captains, her hand flew up to his cheek, and stopped short.  Hunald squinted but did nothing to stop her.  His captains gasped, but then she touched his cheek gently, while he spoke.

“Sorry it took us so long.”

“Your timing was our salvation,” she said, and got on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek and then hugged him.  The captains relaxed when she said, “Your father is one of my best friends in the world.  Thank you for coming,” and she turned to those captains.  “And make sure you let Odo know how grateful I am.”  The captains smiled and nodded and assured her they would.

“I was glad to do it,” Hunald said as she let go of him.  “After that business in Tours, I need the penance.”

“Amager is here,” Margueritte said.  “On the other side, but he has not attacked us and is packing to leave.  I don’t think Ragenfrid was honest about the situation here and got him to come under false pretenses.”

“Well, I’m glad,” Hunald said.  “I thought he was a nice man.”

“As did I,” Margueritte said and turned Hunald by taking his arm.  “Now let me introduce you to some more nice men.”  Michael, Childemund, and David all looked like they had been through the wars, which they had.

“We have met,” Hunald said as he shook Michael’s hand, and Michael confirmed as much.

“Childemund came here escorting Charles’ wife, Rotrude.  He has represented Charles in our talks with Ragenfrid.”

“Pleased to meet you.  You talked with Ragenfrid?”  Hunald looked surprised.

“For three days,” Margueritte admitted.  “We were hoping to stall him until you got here, and once you arrived, we hoped he would think twice about attacking us.”

“I see.”

“But please, let me introduce David, King of Amorica, what you might call Little Britain.

“David?”  Hunald looked confused.  “Bogart?”

“His mother calls him David, and so do I.  He is my cousin, you know.”

“Either name will do,” David said, and in such a friendly manner, Hunald swallowed the words, “Your majesty.”

“And this, is Prince Hunald, son of Duke Odo the Great of Aquitaine.”

Hunald also swallowed his guffaw.  “Odo the Great?”

Margueritte shrugged.  “But we must get back to the great hall, and you must come to supper.  The dwarf wives are cooking something special in the way of pork, and applesauce.  Bring any men you want.  Your captains are welcome.  I am sure there will be enough for all.  Please ignore the hole in the ceiling, and the courtyard where so many men are resting.  And there are wounded, so if you have a physician with you, it would be greatly appreciated.

“Of course,” one of the older captains said.

“Oh, my apologies.  I should have thought of that right away.”

They returned to the castle, and Hunald and his captains got a good look at the damage, but the pork supper turned out as great as promised.  There were no complaints there.

One of the captains said the courtyard looked like a small scale of what they had after the battle of Toulouse when they drove the Saracens from their land.

“Hold that thought,” Margueritte said.  “I am sure Charles will want to hear all about it.”

“Charles?” Hunald asked.

“By my best estimate, he should be here with the Frankish army about the same time tomorrow that you came today.”

“That will end the rebellion,” Childemund stated flatly.

“Yes, but that does not mean Ragenfrid will not try something foolish in the morning.”

“Sadly, you may be right,” King David said.

“This is an excellent apple pie,” Hunald said.  “My compliments to the cook.”

“Sadly, I did not make this pie,” Margueritte said.

“Did your lovely sister make it?” he asked, looking at Elsbeth.

Margueritte, Margo, and Jennifer started to laugh, loud.  Elsbeth showed her tongue and gave them all her best raspberries.

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MONDAY

Margueritte feels pulled back to Roland’s home, but she has to settle things on the Breton March first.  Until next time, Happy Reading

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