Kairos

Medieval 6: K and Y 15 Side Trips, part 1 of 2

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Kirstie

After many tearful good-byes and promises to return, Kirstie at six months pregnant, Yrsa, and Soren had to ride in the wagon, and as expected, the wagon driver took that opportunity to hit every rock and hole he could find.

Wilam showed Kirstie the goods in the hold. “The crew is going to have a hard time finding places to sleep.” Wilam smiled at her. “The captain has the ship packed about as full as can be, and heavy metal items no less. We will do well not to sink as soon as we leave port. Pray for good weather.”

“I do, every trip,” she said.

Wilam nodded and showed her the bolts of fine linen died in every color, and some with patterns and flowers worked into the cloth. “Captain Olaf picked up this fancy cloth in Flanders last fall before he made a quick trip to gather the apples of Brittany. He stopped in Kent to unload most of the apples for grain and vegetables harvested in the fall, mostly from East Anglia. You know, here in the Northland, we don’t get the harvest they get in the south. People in Bamburgh and in all the towns here don’t have much to go around some winters.”

“Same problem we deal with back home,” Kirstie admitted. “But what about Scotland and the islands, Orkney and Shetland?”

Wilam shook his head. “Scotland is filled with remarkably good soil. They manage to get plenty most years, and all without fertilizer. As for the islands, there are not so many people there. The land is relatively good, and they produce enough to feed themselves most years.”

“I see,” Kirstie answered.

“But look here,” Wilam took her hand. “Half of these goods are for Strindlos, Nidaros. For the rest, the captain sectioned off four areas. Each area has fine farm implements and things for the home and the hearth. He figures on returning to the places along the coast where we stopped last summer. He says you have to follow up if you hope to build a good trading partner.”

“But we go home first, right?” Kirstie asked and put on hand to her belly. I don’t want my baby born aboard ship.

Wilam could only shrug. “You know, Mother said you should stay another year to let the baby be born before you sailed off on some adventure.”

“I know.” Kirstie gave Wilam a kind frown. “Your mother would keep us there until the Lord returned if we let her.” Wilam nodded.

The crossing was easy enough, with good weather and a good wind. Kirstie got seasick on the first day, and every day after for a week. Wilam worried over her. It was cute and annoying at the same time. She said one day she would make the Storyteller write a children’s book about Kirstie, the seasick Viking.

They arrived first in Dinganes, and then had to wait three days for men to be fetched from Gulaping, the place of the Althing. They were anxious to buy, including offering some silver to supplement the furs they collected. They did not have the spring and summer to collect and tan the hides and furs they expected to have since they arrived in mid-April. Captain Olaf could have unloaded his whole half of the ship in that place if the price was right. Everything not designated for Strindlos was an option, and Kirstie was not against that idea of unloading it all if it got her home sooner, but the captain made a deal instead. He let two of the set-aside sections of good go for some real money, then he said he would try to get a second ship for the coming year. He said his friend, Captain Otto, could bring a whole shipload just to Gulaping if they had the desire and funding to trade for that much. He said his friend would be especially interested in good lumber and expect him in May or June of next year, or maybe like now in mid-April if he has a full summer schedule, or maybe July if there are unexpected delays.” He shrugged.

“You sound confident,” one of the elder’s teased, and several laughed.

“I haven’t even asked him yet,” Olaf said with a chuckle of his own. “But if necessary, I’ll rent a ship and send Brant here with a crew of his own.”

The elder who seemed to speak for most of them looked around briefly before he responded. “We will let you work things out as you see fit. We have had a year, and by next June we will have had two years with your equipment. Let me say, if the quality remains as high, you should have no trouble selling all of your goods. Our local smithies cannot produce nearly as high a quality as your material.”

Captain Olaf neglected to tell them most were not produced by local smithies. On the edge of Bamburgh they had a couple of big buildings where men spent full time hours producing the highest-grade steel they could and then pounding it into shape. Kirstie called it a foundry or sometimes a factory. All Olaf knew was after making a hundred plows or so, a man got pretty good at the task.

The next stop up the line was Birdla in Firdir Province. They managed some firs and hides, but not much, so they were only able to buy about half a quarter, being a couple of plows and a few tools. Olaf suggested if there were other villages up the fjord, they might contrive some way to trade for some of their furs and hides and thus have more available to trade. He pointed to the necklace one of the men wore. “Such fine goods as amber, ivory and honey are aways good.”

The town’s people said they would see what they could work out, but please don’t forget them. They would try to always have something worth trading.

Olaf agreed. He would not forget them.

Captain Olaf had to think twice before pulling into Borgund in South Moeri. For one, they reached the month of May and Kirstie was either in her eighth month or about to enter her eighth month. At least she stopped throwing up once she understood she could prevent her sea sickness by eating. Not the best idea, but what else could she do? For two, there seemed to be a large number of ships in the port at that time, but they were already seen, so they felt committed to making the stop.

Their reception last time in Borgund had not been the best. The town chiefs wanted everything for nothing. But they were a good a sized town and they told the elders that they might be back in a year or two. As a good merchant, Olaf knew winning faithful customers depended on meeting and surpassing expectations. He would see what they might find. What they found was not what they expected.

Not only was the king’s double sized longship captained by Engel Bronson with Bieger as his Skipari at the dock, but the king was aboard the ship. Worse than that, six more of the king’s ships were anchored off the shore, and three were reported to be north in Blindheim and another three south in Hallkjelsvik. Apparently, King Harald Fairhair was not satisfied with the taxes paid by the province, or the excuses made to withhold some payments. He wanted to press them on the taxes, but not too hard because he also wanted to raise men to help fight the Danes and Geats where they were encroaching on Norwegian land, as Harald drew the map.

“Last time I came through here Hakon Grjotgardsson brought a thousand ships to my aid from the north and Moeri.” The king ranted a bit. “We turned the enemy on that day. Sadly, my friend, father of my wife, Asa died at the battle of Fjalir. I am beginning to think when he died, he took all the courage from the north with him. Where are the men who will stand up to these Danes. If we don’t stand up, they will take more and more until Norway becomes no more than a Danish province.”

Kirstie could imagine Fairhair’s displeasure as well as his demands. She guessed the locals were backed into an awkward position and feeling uncomfortable. She understood, because she felt backed into a corner herself once the king found out who was on the ship that just arrived. He insisted on meeting the maiden from Lindisfarne.

Kirstie remembered Engel Bronson and Bieger from the day they visited Strindlos, looking for Elgar the Saxon. “They came with Lind and Gruden,” she told Wilam and Brant just to make clear that she was talking about the Masters. “I have to assume Captain Bronson and Beiger are in on it, still looking for the Kairos, me, and still seeking any evidence they can find to point at me as the one they want.”

“I still don’t understand why these Masters want you,” Captain Olaf interrupted.

“To kill her,” Wilam said, bluntly. “She is the only one that stands in the way of their plans, and whatever horrors they have in mind for us all.”

Kirstie continued, “I suspect both Ulf and Ulfsson served the Masters. Ulf knew that at least Yrsa had some connection to the world of the spirits, enough to guide the crews safely to Ellingham, but I don’t recall ever showing him anything where he could make the connection to me. He may have thought it was part of the gifts of the gods, either Fryer or Njord, assuming he heard about those things. If he had evidence that it was anything more, the servants of the Masters would have tried to kill me already.”

“How could he not guess?” Brant asked.

“I am sure he guessed,” Wilam answered. “But he had no proof. Up until Lindisfarne, she appeared to be a good little Viking, willing to kill, steal, and destroy.”

“I temporarily blinded the Masters when I killed Ulf. They did not see Danna or get a clear picture of the Troll. Ulf and Njal saw a man with some giant blood, but he may have come from the monastery, for all they knew. He was dressed like a farmer. Then, we ruined their plans in the New World. Who knows what they had in mind, except they planned to use the hags to intimidate the native population. I am sure Abraxas planned to turn the natives to himself and thus receive an invitation to come back to earth in a land where he otherwise had no connection. I am equally sure the Masters had something more insidious in mind, but we were there to save Mary Katherine and the young women, not an unreasonable quest. We were fortunate in the process to kill whatever plan the Masters might have had. But it was no proof of the Kairos.”

“So, what you are saying is going all that way to the west and to what you call the New World was not just about trying to save the captive women of Ellingham,” Captain Olaf drew his conclusion.

“No,” Kirstie responded and assured the man. “That was the main part, but there was more to it as well. I didn’t say anything because you had your hands full as it was, what with plying unknown waters and making first contact with native people and all.”

“I would rather know,” Captain Olaf said, but he said it kindly.

“Okay,” Kirstie agreed.

Medieval 6: K and Y 14 And Back Again, part 2 of 2

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Kirstie

When they got to Brant’s house, Soren came running. He gave Wilam a big hug. Kirstie put her hands on her hips and huffed. “He is my son too,” Wilam said, and after a second, Kirstie nodded, and thought that thanks to Wilam, the boy had a family. That was important, and not something Kirstie could give him. She would not mind giving him a baby sister, though. She looked again at Wilam and had all sorts of thoughts.

Soren took Yrsa’s hand as they walked into the house. He wanted to introduce Yrsa to his grandma and grandpa, and his other grandma, and his three uncles, though they kept trying to tell him only two were actual uncles.

“I might as well be invisible,” Kirstie said.

“Not to me.” Wilam slipped his arm around her shoulders.

They went inside, and on sight of Wilam, his mother Wilburg began to cry for Mary Katherine. They sent word, and some of the crew that lived in Lucker certainly spread the news, but seeing her eldest son triggered some serious tears in the woman, and her lifelong friend Eadgyd cried some with her.

Kirstie left Wilam’s protective arm to hug both women. She took Soren and Yrsa out back to check on Birdie and Missus Kettle. The dwarf wives appeared content with their work, but Kirstie knew that was not exactly true.

“You know,” Birdie said. “Now, after a month, with Wilburg’s arm mostly healed, and Eadgyd’s leg healed to where she can get around, I just don’t feel needed anymore.” She sighed a great sigh and looked down at the mud that surrounded the kitchen area.

“Not me,” Missus Kettle the cook said. “I got my hands full feeding four boys and the old man. Wilburg and Eadgyd say they don’t know what they would do without me, or how I manage to cook so much so well. I will say, though, it would help if I had Buckles, my husband here. He is a most excellent hunter and could help supplement these meagre rations I have to work with.”

Kirstie counted. “Hrothgar, Ecgberht, and Godric. Four boys?”

“Soren counts,” she said. “He is getting to be a good little eater.”

Of course. How could she forget her own son? She smiled for him and turned to the dwarf wives. “So, here is what we will do.” She hugged Birdie before she clapped her hands. Birdie went back to Norway, to her husband Booturn and Buckles appeared by his wife.

Buckles shouted for a moment. Missus Kettle hit him on the head with her cooking spook and he spouted, “Oh, it’s you.”

It did not take long to explain the situation, and Buckles said he would be glad to help out. Missus Kettle banged her cooking spoon against the big kettle on the fire and all three boys showed up. She had them well trained. “Hrothgar, Ecgberht, and Godric. This is Buckles. He is an excellent hunter and trapper, and he will teach you, if you want to learn.”

“What happened to Birdie?” Ecgberht asked.

“She had to go home,” Kirstie answered.

“We didn’t even get to say goodbye?” Godric whined.

“I am sure she will miss you too,” Kirstie said. “But now, you need to listen to Buckles here. He is Missus Kettle’s husband and will help keep the food on the fire.”

“Good thing,” Hrothgar said. “With Father Espen and his bad knee, we could use the help. Our supplies are running a bit thin.”

“Buckles will also go with you when it is time to harvest the crops on Espen’s farm, maybe in a month or so. That should help see us through the winter.”

“Some for God, some for the tax, some to eat, and some to sell is what I always try to get from my farm,” Espen said as he hobbled outside to take a seat by the fire. “Don’t know how I’m going to be able to plant again in the spring. I don’t know.”

Kirstie quickly introduced Buckles, and Buckles spoke. “The lady has asked me to help and that is what I intend to do. We will work out the spring in the spring. First, we got a fall harvest to plan, and then the winter meat to feed this lot.” He sounded very reassuring and did not have a single complaint about having so much work to do. It was very un-dwarf-like. “I hope you don’t mind if I teach your sons a thing or two about the hunt.”

Espen slowly nodded as Buckles smiled. “I would appreciate that very much,” Espen said, and almost went to tears as he thought with his busted knee, he might never be able to teach his sons as a good father should. Ecgberht, at seventeen, had the basics, but Godric at fourteen hardly learned how to string his bow and properly hold his spear.

Wilam and Brant came to the back door, and Brant said, “We need to do it.”

“Do what?” Kirstie asked.

“We are packing everyone up and moving back to the farm,” Wilam said.

“Now that the immediate threat of Vikings is over, the farm has food to harvest for the winter and plenty of trees nearby for firewood and to hunt,” Brant said.

“Not to mention the farmhouse has more room, and the Barn is big and can be fixed up for living quarters,” Wilam added.

“I don’t know where the animals might be,” Espen interrupted. “Probably taken by the neighbors or stolen.”

Wilam and Kirstie both looked at Yrsa and she opened up. “I asked Lord Marsham. Lupen and Flora, a very nice couple volunteered to watch the farm over this last month. They are very good with the animals.”

“Couple of skinny doodles.” Buckles shrugged like he did not mind too much. “No offence, Princess,” he added for Yrsa.

Kirstie just stared at Yrsa until Yrsa defended herself. “Lady. Alm and I have been overseeing your farm for years now. We have gotten very good at knowing who will enjoy the work and do a good job. Lupen and Flora have even gotten a few local gnomes to help. Everything will be in good shape when we arrive.”

Kirstie nodded as Soren finally climbed up into her lap and gave her a hug. “We are going back to the farm,” she told him.

“Are we going home?” Soren asked. He sounded a little homesick, but also like he did not want to lose his grandparents and uncles. Kirstie just hugged him back.

It took three days to close up the house in Lucker and move everyone to Ellingham. The neighbors were glad to see them, and welcomed Brant, Hrothgar, and Eadgyd as family. Most already knew Brant. It took another week to get settled in, but then the routine of plain old farm work took over and kept them busy enough.

Kirstie imagined she became pregnant in September. She felt certain in October, but she did not say anything until November, after the harvest. Wilam got excited like a child at Christmas. Kirstie just smiled a lot. She figured she would deliver either June fifteenth or July fifteenth, although last time, Inga calculated her due date as March fifteenth and Soren was born on the sixth, so maybe she delivered a week early. July fifteenth was most likely, but she would not mind June. She should be home well before then, she imagined.

The fall went by fast, and the winter dragged, as winters do. As much as Soren loved his grandparents and uncles, he got terribly bored and ready to go home by his birthday on the sixth of March. Brant and Wilam set things up in the fall. Despite the Viking raid, the smithies kept their forges hot and produced some fine goods for trade. In March, they only had to collect it all and get it to Captain Olaf in Bamburgh.

Medieval 6: K and Y 14 And Back Again, part 1 of 2

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Kirstie

Kirstie and the officers with three Algonquin chiefs and Anenak the giant spied on the enemy from behind the trees. The fortified position was not well made and hardly finished, but it would already be a help to the defenders.

“They have their back to the lake,” Brant said, and Wilam asked a serious question.

“If fire and then water is a danger to the hags, why are they close to the lake? The hags you told me about were by the docks, the river, and the sea. I would think that would be dangerous for them.”

“Kirstie nodded and tried to explain. “They are in a tough situation. Fire and water don’t mix, but their god, so-called, Abraxas, is made up of these two elements. Being near the water lets them draw on the water for strength. They would be weak and much less frightening in a desert where little water is available. They draw also from the fires, campfires, cooking fires and so on, but they must keep things in the right order and in proportion, and especially keep the two elements separated. When the hag is actually set on fire, it is too much all at once. They appear to grow stronger, but when the water puts their fire out all at once, it breaks something on the inside. Think of a bow. When you draw the string in the right way and to the right distance, you can fire the weapon, arrow after arrow. But if you draw too hard and suddenly, at first it looks like you will send your arrow farther than normal, but one tug further and you will break the weapon and make the whole thing useless.

“I guess. Sort of,” Wilam suggested he understood even if he didn’t.

Captain Olaf stepped up to Kirstie and interrupted. No sign of the hag or the other women. They must be in the tents. But Anenak, Chestnut, and we are all agreed, the only way to get at them is to charge across the field, unless you have a better idea.

Kirstie considered having Anenak throw rocks which would be like mini boulders at them, but it was probably too far even for him. She considered asking her elves to go invisible and sneak up on them, but the hag would know. She dreaded the casualties. Ulfsson’s crew would not go far from their bows. She felt sure there should be a better way, but she could not think of it. She shook her head, sadly and spoke softly.

“Have the men keep one hand on their weapon and carry some bushes and branches in the other hand in front of them, and wave them as they run. It should confuse the enemy as to where exactly the people are and they might not shoot as many as otherwise,” she said. “And maybe the branches will deflect an arrow or two. Other than that, I got nothing.”

“Better than nothing,” Wilam said and hugged her. Kirstie worried about him. It had been nearly three days since the last time he moaned that Mary Katherine was the hag.

When they were nearly ready, someone pointed out that some would like to carry their own bows and arrows for when they arrived. Kirstie said they had to follow the men with the bushes. Then they were ready, and Kirstie had to say “Go.” She felt sure the hag would sense their charge and have her men ready. Sadly, she was right.

Despite the bushes to distract and confuse the enemy, any number of men fell to arrows in the charge. Even so, they broke through the half-finished fortification on the order of three to one. Ulfsson’s crew was not that big, and the enchanted converts were not many after only two days, and they did not fight well in any case. The whole battle got to be messy as natives and Vikings fought on both sides, and some could not tell friend from foe. Yrsa and Chestnut’s people had their hands full keeping the friendlies from killing each other.

Wilam jumped in front of Kirstie to face Ulfsson, but Kirstie turned and faced Njal the giant, who did not appear so big compared to Anenak, the twelve-footer. Brant, who kept an eye on her stepped in to help, and together they took down the big man.

Everything paused when the hag showed up. She came from the tent and said, “I will have my husband back.” She got followed by five more hags. All of the young women had been converted. Some men screamed, and the women laughed. Kirstie might have screamed, but she got distracted by the face of a fire sprite in the campfire. New world, new rules, she thought. “Flame them,” she whispered, and the flames from all six fires around the camp vacated the wood and attached themselves to the hags. Kirstie fully expected the hags to grow in power and appearance and she desperately tried to figure out how to knock them into the lake which was right behind them. But what happened surprised her and everyone else.

The hags began to merge into one another and as they grew, they roared like a half dozen lions roaring all at once. They became one big hag, almost as tall as the twelve-foot giant, and they looked much stronger. Sadly, Kirstie did not have the time to shout “No!” Anenak flew at the hag, but unlike Vortesvin years ago in Nidaros, Anenak did not duck. The hag grabbed the giant’s head between her hands and snapped the head right off at the neck. But Anenak’s forward motion was enough to knock the hag into the lake. Six screams followed. The hags separated again, and six young women melted. Whatever remained would eventually sink to the bottom. Kirstie remembered her friend Yazu and cried for the giant. She cried for the men who died. She cried for Wilam’s sister whom she never met. It would be a while before she stopped crying.

~~~*~~~

Kirstie finally had to stop crying long enough to let Mother Greta work on the wounded and save who she could. Kirstie discovered some Iroquois speakers had escaped the hags by seeking refuge with the giant despite the fact that it meant being surrounded by Algonquin speakers, their traditional enemies. Now that the trouble was over, they decided to head back to the great lakes region and abandon the island at the river’s end. They said it was too dangerous, but they did steal some metal tipped arrows and a couple of Viking spears. Who knew where those metal artifacts would end up. Probably upper New York near the lakes.

With that, Kirstie realized she had to put her foot down. The native Algonquin speakers, the Lenape or Manhattan, or whatever history ended up calling this particular tribe might remember the story about the white men and the monster they would probably refer to as a wendigo, but it would not be believed by the oncoming white men in the future any more than the stories about the giants. The Vikings, however, needed a good talking to.

Kirstie considered asking Nameless to wipe some memories once they sailed back to Europe. The ancient gods did that sometimes in the deep past to keep the various cultures and civilizations from bleeding into each other too much, or to keep certain information secret for the time being. That television show, Ancient Aliens would not be nearly so successful if the aliens were a well-documented historical fact. Rumor and inuendo was fine, but some memories got wiped in ancient days.

In the end, she gathered the survivors and put her foot down. It did occur to her once again that the sons or daughters of these men, or maybe the grandchildren might have some stories to inspire the likes of Eric the Red or Leif Ericson in the decades to come. They were only about seventy or eighty years early here. The men mostly listened.

They had thirty-three men to sail Captain Olaf’s ship, and they carried the nineteen wounded that Kirstie hoped would live. They did have a couple of burials at sea. Another twenty men sailed Ulfsson’s Viking longship, which meant both ships had about half the normal crew. It was enough to get them back to Iceland and the Faroe Islands. Splitting the distance between the Shetland and Orkney Islands, they soon reached Aberdeen and finally made port once again in Bamburgh.

Captain Otto, who managed to break his other arm so he now had both arms wrapped up tight, inherited the longship until he could build a new ship of his own. He said that would be fine for the present since he had no plans to go out until next spring.

Captain Olaf said his ship had a good workout but now he needed to pull it up into drydock and give it a good going over. They reached September, so he was a month behind and would probably have to cut his fall trip short to get home before the dead of winter. Kirstie apologized for taking so much of his time. He just smiled for her.

“Worth it,” he said.

It took another week before they could go home. They had to report an amended version of their adventures to King Eadwulf II. No surprise that he knew Captain Olaf who told the tale. Olaf was not exactly clear where they caught the last longship. They said Scandinavian land and left it at that. Sadly, the kidnapped young women all died.

“It would have been a better report if I would have said we rescued them all.” Olaf shook his head and looked sad.

The king agreed, but his eyes went to Kirstie. She accompanied Wilam, Brant, and Olaf into the king’s chamber. She came in her blue dress to look presentable and hoped she did not have to retrieve her armor, maybe ever again, God willing.

Captain Olaf took that moment of distraction to introduce his companions. “My Skipari, Brant Svenson. My navigator, Wilam Halfdanson, and his wife, the Lady Kristina of Strindlos.

“Kristina?” The king wrinkled his brow and asked, “Where is Strindlos?”

“Majesty,” Kirstie curtsied and thought maybe she did it well for once. “Strindlos in in the great fjord of Trondelag, in Norway. I am one of those terrible Vikings you have heard about.”

The king looked surprised but had another question. “Are all Norse women as tall and blonde as you?”

“No, your majesty,” Kirstie said and smiled. “Some are short and dark. Like elsewhere, we come in all shapes and sizes.”

“Lady Kristina was the maiden who saved Lindisfarne from the Viking horde.” Captain Olaf said to Kirstie’s embarrassment. Several men who were standing around looking bored perked up at that bit of information.

“Yes. You said you found her.”

“Found her and married her,” Wilam said.

“A lovely wife,” the king said. “But somehow, I can’t picture her fighting off four hundred men at arms.”

Kirstie looked at Wilam, Brant, and especially Captain Olaf with a look that said they should keep their mouths shut. “I was wearing different clothes at the time. I wore my armor and had my battleaxe and shield, and my sword at my side. You have to imagine it.”

The king squinted at her but shrugged. “Lovely wife, though,” he said, and stepped back to his throne where he sat, an indication that the interview was over.

“Majesty.” The men bowed and Kirstie tried her curtsey again but did not do it nearly as well since she was mad about being ratted out, as she saw it.

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

MONDAY

Home to Soren and after a time, home to Strindlos assuming all is well, like, since when did that ever happen? Monday. Happy Reading

*

Medieval 6: K and Y 13 To the New World, part 3 of 3

M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Yasmina

Men came to the edge to look, and one big, ugly young man near her age stepped to the edge and let out a lustful smile, like he could see what lay hidden inside her abaya and niqab where only her eyes showed. “Nidaros, in Norway, a land so far to the north, even the bears turn white in the snow, if you know what snow is.” He chuckled. “I am William Brantsson, and you are?”

“I am Princess Yasmina of Mecca and Medina,” she said over al-Rahim’s and Aisha’s protests. “William is not a Norwegian name. How did you come by it?”

“My mother. Inga the Volva of Trondelag.’

“Is Inga still alive?” Yasmina asked.

“Yes,” the man said, and his expression turned to pure curiosity.

“And is Buttercup still her friend? And how are Yrsa and Alm?”

“How can… How do you…”

“William,” a gruff voice interrupted the conversation. Three older men, near fifty came to the railing, and the one in the middle spoke. “I am Captain Knud Frodeson. What can we do for you?”

“You and all your men can help,” Yasmina said. She smiled, though they could not see it. She smiled harder when she recognized the two old men that stood beside the captain, and then the pressure on her became too great to resist. Yasmina went away, and Kirstie took her place and came dressed in her well-known armor, her shield and battleaxe at her back. Kirstie was a good four inches taller than Yasmina and her eyes were bright blue as against Yasmina light brown eyes. The rest had not been noticeable under all of Yasmina’s clothing, but Kirstie knew she still had Yasmina’s smile in place.

“Knud,” she said. “Are you still raising puppies? Oswald and Edwin, is your mother still alive? How is your brother, Sibelius?”

“Lady Kristina of Strindlos.” Knud shouted. “You don’t look a day older than when I saw you.”

“It is Oswald the Elder now,” the old man said of himself. “And Edwin the Dog.” he pointed and the old man on the end appeared to be crying. “Mother passed away some years ago.”

“I am sorry to hear that,” Kirstie said.

Knud got hold of his voice. “But how can you be here? what happened to that young girl?”

Kirstie did not answer them. She said, simply. “Bring your men and weapons. We may have to defend the docks and your ship.” She turned and reached out to kiss al-Rahim’s cheek. Unlike Yasmina, she did not have to get on her toes to do it. “Thank you for taking good care of me,” she added and took Aisha’s hand. “And your cousin says thank you, and she never thought of making herself appear older, obvious as that is.”

“Maybe you didn’t need older,” Aisha said. “Yasmina needs as much older as she can get.”

Kirstie listened to Yasmina protesting in her head before she agreed with the elf.

The next stop for Kirstie, even as the Vikings began to come to the dock, was the longboat from the Amalfi ship. This time al-Din shouted first.

“Francesco!”

“Al-Din,” Francesco responded, and he hurried to get to the dock. “I’ve been looking for you for more than a year. I was beginning to think what the governor said was true, that you met your end among the Fatimids. You know, I went there a few years ago searching for Yasmina. I opened trade with the Fatimids for all the Amalfitani. I have been up the coast, all the way to Syria and beyond, to Roman territory, but I have heard nothing of her.”

Kirstie paused in her conversation with William Brantsson to respond. “I was held captive in the palace in Mahdiya. I was forced to marry al-Hakim, the Mahdi’s grandson. Sadly, or maybe fortunately, he had no interest in marriage, at least to a girl. I had to kill him because he was serving the Masters. I suppose that makes me a widow.”

“Who is this person?” Francesco asked al-Din.

Al-Din smiled hugely because he thought he understood. “Yasmina, except she is not Yasmina at the moment. She is…”

“Lady Kristina of Strindlos,” Aisha said with an equally big smile.

“Stop it,” Francesco said. “I have searched for Yasmina for these past four years, and though I have not found her, I will not be giving up.”

“Why is that?” Kirstie asked, even if she knew it was cheating.

“Because I want to tell her that I love her, though we hardly spent a week together. She sets my soul on fire. I kissed her once and I will not rest until I can kiss her again and every day for the rest of our lives. I may get old and die looking for her, but so be it.” He made a determined face. Kirstie thought he looked a bit silly, but Yasmina protested and said he looked wonderful. Meanwhile, the pressure in the other direction became too great and Kirstie traded again with Yasmina. She stayed in her armor, though the battleaxe and shield got replaced by a smaller shield such as a horseman might hold, and a sword, while Yasmina’s scimitar appeared at her side. She also came with her cloak, hood up, but her veil down so Francesco could see her face, and she spoke, not what Kirstie would say, but from her own heart.

“Did you mean it?”

Francesco gawked at the transition, but only for a moment before he stepped forward and took her in his arms. They kissed for the next few minutes and that settled matters nicely for the both of them.

Al-Rahim spoke to the Amalfi skipper. “Bring your fighting men to the dock. We may have to defend your ships and crew, depending on how things turn.”

At that moment, a young Arab came up with a young woman in tow. The woman shuffled along with her feet and never looked up. A middle-aged man came from the other direction, and he had his sword drawn. Al-Rahim turned to the swordsman first because he knew the man.

“Zayd the Christian.”

“Mubarak is dead,” Zayd said. “Some went to the house and Abu ibn Suffar is reported to be dead. I cannot confirm that, but many will be along shortly.”

Aisha hardly glanced at the Young Arab man, because she knew the girl from their time in the governor’s palace. She spoke because Yasmina was busy. “Sharin. Speak to me.”

Sharin finally looked up when she heard her name, and she breathed a great sigh of relief. “Oh, lady Aisha. I didn’t know it was you.”

“Here is the need,” Aisha spoke sharply like a commander on the battlefield, or in the kitchen as the case may be. “We need to get a few men, Princess Yasmina, and myself in to see the governor when he is not near Suffar or the Jinn. Perhaps in Princess Badroul’s chambers, if that can be arranged.”

“Oh, Lady. Men in the chamber of the Princess will be killed,” Sharin said.

“Only her Fiancé. There is precedent, as long as Captain al-Rahim and Ziri, Yasmina’s harem guard are there to chaperone, and maybe if you know a friendly guard in Badroul’s harem, that might help.”

“Sharin hardly had to think. “Harun and al-Asad are still here. They survived the pirates, though Harun limps. They have been assigned to the guards. They may help.”

Yasmina took a breath. “Harun and al-Asad are alive,” she said, and went right back at it with Francesco.

“It will take some time to arrange,” Sharin stated while her face showed that she was thinking about exactly how to arrange things. “Come to the princess garden gate in two hours.”

Francesco took a breath. “We can climb over where the tree is again,” he said, and returned to his preoccupation.

“We may need the two hours to calm these two down,” Aisha said and looked at the men who were all standing around, grinning at the couple.

“Come along Nasr,” Sharin said. She grabbed the young Arab’s hand to drag him behind her, and he did not seem to mind at all.

Yasmina pulled her head back for a minute to see. She said an aside to William Brantsson. “Like your mother once said, it must be in the air.” she paused long enough to think pressing up against poor Francesco with her chain mail could not be very comfortable. She thought of Kirstie’s blue dress, having just been Kirstie, and called to it. The dress instantly replaced her armor and weapons. It left her head and hair completely uncovered and showed a bit of her arms above the wrist and her shoulders. It even showed a bit down the front, which made Yasmina feel completely naked, but Francesco liked it. He almost fell over to look at her, but she held on to him so they could squeeze together and go for round two.

Medieval 6: K and Y 13 To the New World, part 2 of 3

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Yasmina

Two women in full length, straight cut abayas made of black died Egyptian linen, and wearing full length niqabs so only their eyes were revealed came and knocked on the door to inquire about al-Din, the owner of the house. An old man, a retainer of some sort stood beside them, and a young man in traveling clothes complete with a veil of his own did most of the talking.

“We have come from Burqah in the west at the invitation of Ala al-Din to partake of his gracious hospitality as he offered in his many letters. My lord is in waiting to see the governor, and he sent his daughter and her maid ahead so that they might be refreshed. Is this not the house of al-Din?” Ali asked.

Al-Rahim determined that both Ali and Sulayman had both the brains and the courage that their leader Omar lacked. He ordered Omar to be in charge and told Sulayman privately to watch the horses and watch al-Din, and to keep al-Din’s face covered against being recognized and keep him out of trouble.

Ziri, the last Berber with them put on the appearance of a typical Bedouin guide. He was the one who went ahead through their long journey and spoke with the Berbers and Bedouin they encountered along the way to secure food for the people and fodder for the horses. They stopped at many farms and paid generously for what they received. Al-Rahim made sure he packed plenty of silver in the saddle bags for the journey. But often Ziri, or when he was still with them, Gwafa would do the talking. Now, in Alexandria, Ali got to do the talking. Ziri’s Arabic had a definite western accent. Al-Rahim’s was near enough perfect, but he and Yasmina had a slight accent and their being from the Hejaz might be noticed in certain word choices and phrases.

“Alas,” the man actually said the word as several other servant men and women came up behind him to listen. “Our young master al-Din went on a mission to the west, to the Fatimid fanatics. He has been declared dead by the governor and the property has been given to the governor’s vizir, al-Suffar. He is now the owner of this house, and his son now rules in al-Din’s place.”

“You do not sound happy about that,” Aisha spoke out of turn.

The man paused to look around at who was listening in. “No, no. We are all happy here,” he said without any conviction. “But Abu ibn Suffar does not like visitors. Please go away.” He sounded like he wanted to say, “Please run and save yourselves.”

“What happened to Princess Badroul, his true love?” Yasmina spoke before the man could close the door.

The man looked around again before he answered in a whisper. “Al-Suffar wishes her to marry his son, but she has resisted. She claims she will not marry until she hears for certain whether al-Din is dead or alive. The pressure to marry is great. I fear the governor may force his daughter. But that would be terrible for the girl. Abu is… sometimes…” He decided not to finish his sentence. “Good day,” he said and shut the door.

“So, we go to the palace and confront the governor,” al-Rahim suggested, but looked at Yasmina for confirmation.

“We will,” she agreed. “But first we need some inside information. Suffar is likely at that palace, and we want to get the governor alone and out of the influence of Suffar or the traitorous Jinn. She began to walk toward the docks on a whim, wondering if a friendly merchant might supply them with some information. She honestly thought of Francesco, but she hardly expected to find him.

Yasmina did not expect to get entirely accurate information, but she did find one of al-Din’s merchant captains, and he willingly shared what he knew. “The governor is hardly more than Suffar’s puppet. I heard rumors that a mighty Jinn is the power behind Suffar’s sudden rise to power, and I believe it has to be something like that. The man, Suffar, is as cruel and selfish as any I have ever seen. Now that young al-Din is gone, it is insufferable to work for the man, and his son is even worse. You were lucky to catch me in port. I have been considering sailing away and not coming back, but taking myself, my crew, and my ship to work for someone else.”

Yasmina remembered that Suffar was a sorcerer of a sort. But she concluded that the Jinn was the key to everything. “Well,” she said. “I can at least assure you of one thing.” she smiled for the captain as she called. “Aladdin.”

“Princess?” Al-Rahim questioned Yasmina’s decision s al-Din stumbled forward. The captain looked, fell to one knee, and praised Allah and the prophet for bringing the master home. Yasmina explained to al-Rahim.

“We need allies, back-up. Maybe an army of sailors and merchants who would rather work for al-Din. Captain Hazem al-Zahir is the first, and I bet he knows who to contact among al-Din’s people.”

The man stood at al-Din’s insistence, and al-Din hugged the man which both surprised the captain and put a look of determination on the man’s face. “I know exactly who to gather. Al-Suffar has elevated the three worst men to oversee the business. One runs the dock. One runs the house. And one, Mubarak, runs the stables and warehouse where the caravans gather.” He turned to call his nearby crew to come to him so he could send them to fetch the good men ready to rebel.

“The same Mubarak?” Yasmina asked Aisha. The elf had to pause and look at the sky before she produced an answer.

“I believe so.”

Yasmina smiled. “It’s a small world,” she said, and then looked at Aisha with a touch of fear in her eyes.

“Don’t worry,” Aisha said. “I won’t start singing.”

“Princess,” al-Rahim got her attention and pointed. “It appears the Amalfi are coming into the port.”

“Maybe they will help,” al-Din said. He had excellent trade relations with the Amalfitani through his friend Francesco d’Amalfi.

“Francesco?” Yasmina could not keep the desire from her voice.

“It may be,” Aisha said. There weren’t any imps, elves, dwarfs, or fee handy in the water to check for her. She grew up in the Hejaz, as did Yasmina. Aisha had some minimal contact with the sprites in the red sea, but she did not know any in the Mediterranean. She was a spirit of the earth and not automatically connected to the spirits in the water, air, or fire, so all she could do was shrug.

“Wait here,” Captain Hazem got her attention. He looked to the sky to judge the time. “Three hours and we will be back with plenty of men.”

Yasmina interrupted the man. “What I need is someone who has contacts inside the palace. We need to get al-Din alone with the governor where Suffar and the Jinn cannot interfere. It would be best to settle matters peacefully if we can.”

Hazem nodded as he stroked his beard. “I’ll see who I can find. Meanwhile, Ibrahim here will stay with you until we get back.” The man smiled and bowed to al-Din. Captain Hazem bellowed his orders and the crew split off in several direction to disappear in the crowd around the docks.

Yasmina’s eyes shot back to the Amalfi ship dropping anchor in the bay. She hoped it might be Francesco but she had no reason to suppose it was, or that the man ever even thought of her. He was Italian, hot-blooded, and probably had a girl in every port. She sighed and then caught sight of a ship pulled right up to the dock, and it was the last ship she ever expected to see. She stood from the chest she had been sitting on and walked straight to the ship. Of course, Aisha and all the men had to follow her.

“Princess?” Al-Rahim asked where she was going, but Yasmina did not answer. It was an actual Viking Longship, and she just had to know.

“Norsemen. Where are you from?” She asked in Kirstie’s Norwegian language.

Medieval 6: K and Y 13 To the New World, part 1 of 3

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Kirstie

The storm came quickly. Kirstie, who was presently tuned into the sprites of the water and the air got the impression that the ship stayed on the edge of the storm. The wind and waves pushed them toward North America as it slowly turned to swipe the southern point of Greenland. The water sprites made something like a stream in the sea that kept them moving in the right direction, though it was hard to tell given the way they went up great hills of water and zoomed down the other side. The crew certainly had no control over their vessel.

The rain pelted them all day and night. In the morning, Wilam thought the rain slackened off, but Kirstie knew that was wishful thinking. She could sense where the tail edge of the storm was located and knew when they finally broke free of it about two that afternoon.

Everyone weathered the storm, and they lost no one overboard, but there were any number of cuts and bruises as men banged into the wall, the deck, the railing, the mast, and seemingly whatever else they could find. One man busted his arm on his own rower’s bench down below. One man, one of the three on the steering board that held on for twenty-four hours, got thrown from the board at the last and cracked his head against the stern dragon’s tail, giving himself a concussion.

No injury was life threatening, so after a hot meal of fried fish and being warmed by some particularly strong mead that Olaf had down in the hold, they raised the sail and continued their pursuit.

Traventor reported that they lost about half a day on the Viking ship, but that ship, once they hit the coast of Labrador, began to sail slowly to the south along the coast looking for something. Traventor said they could make up the half day by cutting the corner and heading for where they anticipated the Viking ship would be. Kirstie hoped they could catch sight of the ship once they hit the Labrador coast, but they were still too far away for that.

Yrsa got Kirstie’s attention when she reported that she was picking up something like a spiritual broadcast. The hag was reaching out to the tribes as she went by, looking for a people that would be amenable to her word about Abraxas. Abraxas might have been banished from the earth, and everywhere on the earth that he had some connection. But Kirstie understood if he forged a new connection with people unknown to him, he might yet come back to earth and ruin everything.

History has no record of Abraxas being worshiped in the new world. He has no more place here than in the old world.

Captain Olaf’s ship had a small mizzenmast for a second sail. Even though his ship was heavier and sat deeper in the water, it could almost match the speed of the longship. It could not maneuver as well, and when they had to get out the oars it lagged behind, but as long as they had the sails up and a good wind the Viking longship would not get further away.

“The hag needs to find a people confronted with two different worldviews and confused about what to believe,” Kirstie said to Yrsa, Wilam, and Brant. “She seems to be reaching out to the tribes along the shore, looking for the right set of dynamics.”

“She is looking for people with no faith that she can fill with faith in Abraxas?” Brant asked.

“No. I think it is more people whose view of the world seemed rock solid and are suddenly confronted with something that tears down that view. It is people who have always believed, but now don’t know what to believe. That is where she can gain converts, and with enough believers, she can invite Abraxas to return to the earth and start all over again.”

Kirstie imagined she knew where the hag would end up. When the Vikings came to Belle Isle and turned into the strait, she felt sure they would park a L’Anse aux Meadows on Newfoundland. That was where the future said the Vikings built a settlement. She figured they were about fifty or eighty years too soon, but maybe the stories would pass on and one or more of the men might help guide Eric the Red or Leif Ericson in the future.

In fact, the Viking ship hardly slowed when it entered the strait. It sailed all the way down to the Gulf of St. Lawrence, and for a day, Kirstie feared they might sail up the river, but they turned. They reentered the Atlantic, turned again, and sailed down the coast of Nova Scotia.

Captain Olaf’s ship had some difficulty following that course. When they reached what would someday be called the Cabot Strait, the wind turned completely against them. They had to row their way back out into the Atlantic, and that lost them another day.

Captain Ulfsson’s ship left Nova Scotia and skipped over the Gulf of Maine, making a beeline for Cape Cod. Still not finding what they were looking for, they sailed around the islands off the coast and headed into Long Island Sound. When they reached the East River, they pulled up to the eastern shore of Manhattan and went to work.

The island was divided between Iroquois speakers and Algonquin speakers. The struggle for dominance was as much cultural and psychological as physical warfare. It was the earliest version of West Side Story with the Jets and the Sharks struggling to control the neighborhood. Most of the innocents on the island got caught up in the struggle, and frankly did not know what to do.

It did not take long for the hag to gather people to her side. A demonstration of power and the promise of having a god with us was all it took. Many came willingly, wanting an end to the struggles. Some did not believe, but they soon moved out of the way. The Iroquois fled to the Bronx or abandoned the struggle altogether and tried to navigate the paths between the Lenape and Mahican tribes to get back to Mohawk land. The Algonquins crossed over to Brooklyn where they had a strong base, made strong by the twelve-foot giant, Anenak, who lived and all but ruled there.

When Olaf’s s ship arrived in the East River, Kirstie had them row first to Brooklyn. It would be dangerous, but they would need allies against the hag if the Lenape were willing. They were met on the shore by an armed party, and the giant. At least they were not met with arrows.

The captains, their officers with Kirstie and Yrsa came ashore and walked a short way to where the natives stood armed and ready. Wilam whispered. “Thank you, Yrsa, for contacting the light elves in this region and gathering the information we need.”

“And they are watching the hag and Ulfsson’s crew?” Brant wanted to be sure.

“They are, but we have our own problems first,” Wilam answered, and just missed grabbing Kirstie’s arm because of the distraction of the question. Kirstie, as was her way, rushed out in front of the captains and the officers, Yrsa on her tail, and she shouted.

“Giant. Why are you here? The only giants remaining in the north are around the great lakes or scattered across the distant mountains. Anenak, do you not fear the wasting disease being around so many ordinary humans?”

“Who are you to know about the wasting? Are you the one I was told was coming, or is there another?” he asked, even as an elf-like man came to appear beside the giant. Many Algonquin warriors stepped back from the sight, and the captains and their men looked uncomfortable. The man did not exactly look like an elf. He looked like what the Kairos sometimes called a new world elf. He went to his knees in front of Kirstie.

“I am the only one in this time and place,” Kirstie said. “But why are you not with the last of your kind?” she asked.

The giant conceded and told his story. “When I was a child some four hundred years ago, my mother told me the tale of Yazu the Great and his companion, the young mortal girl Huyana not Ugly. They came from the west, far and far. They came to destroy the serpents who walked and talked. The battle was fierce, and in the end, Yazu the Great destroyed the last of the serpents, though he gave his life to do it. The serpents who walked and talked were removed from this world to never return, and Huyana not Ugly buried Yazu in a great mound of all honor. I do not know the truth of this tale, but when the last of my tribe became taken by the wasting, I escaped and thought to come to this place and see if I might find the mound of honor. I have not found it, and now I wonder if the tale is true or just a story.”

“That was ages and ages ago,” Kirstie said. “But it is true. The great evil was utterly destroyed. I know this,” Kirstie said, and reached into the deep past for a life she once lived. She traded places with the young woman. “I know this because long ago I was called Huyana.” She opted to leave the not ugly off her name.

Anenak went to his knees and found a few tears. The natives did not know what to think, but they lowered their weapons, and some of them also went to their knees.

Huyana felt the dizziness come upon her and thought it prudent to trade places with Kirstie again, and Kirstie spoke. “Anenak, my friend. In this life I am called Kirstie, and this time I have come from the east, far and far. There is a new evil that must be utterly destroyed. They are women who become monsters of great power and who speak to the mind about a god that must not be. We chased them across the endless water and came to this place where they plan to do their evil magic. Will you go with us to end this threat to all people?”

Anenak agreed and many of the warriors agreed with him. After all, it was their land and their people at risk.

“Lord Chestnut” she spoke to the elf on his knees. “Please rise. You must ride with us on the ship and explain to the captains how Ulfsson and his crew are preparing to defend themselves.”

Anenak, bring your warriors across the river and we will meet you on the shore and go together.

“They are building a fort by the lake,” Lord Chestnut told the captains as they went to the lifeboat, returned to the ship, and went to the other side.

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

MONDAY

Yasmina reaches Alexandria only to run into trouble but there is both a ship from Amalfi pulling into the docks and the last ship she ever expected to see and hopefully both crews might help. Until Monday, Happy Reading

*

Medieval 6: K and Y 12 Follow, part 2 of 2

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Kirstie

“But, Mary Katherine,” Wilam said.

Kirstie set aside her worry about Soren to comfort her husband. “We don’t know which woman is the hag,” she said. “It might not be Mary Katherine.”

“But I fear that it is,” Wilam answered. “I was not there to watch over her like a good big brother. She became a teen and I lived with Brant’s family in Lucker. When she married at sixteen, I was at sea. I never met her husband. I asked, but no one could give me a good description of the man.”

“He had a name?”

“Adam,” Wilam said. “She called him the first man. No one knows where he went when he disappeared, but after that, Mary Katherine became different. She brooded, never said much, and never showed interest in other people, girls or boys.”

“And where were you? At sea for the whole month?”

“No, actually. I got home just two days before I found you in Ellingham.”

Kirstie shook her head and said, “I found you.”

Wilam smiled but stayed serious. “He left the day before I arrived. Said he had some business to attend to, but he never came back, and nobody has any idea what business he may have been talking about.”

“And two days later you found me?” Wilam nodded, and Kirstie had to think it through. Two days before she found Wilam in Ellington, they were gathering in the inlet above Howick. Someone helped them when the workers on that farm all left just before the body of Vikings arrived to cross their fields. And Captain Ulf. He seemed to know all about her connection to the spiritual world and all the sprites she had responsibility for. He knew more than Harrold, her own captain from her own village. Granted, Harrold was not there for the Vanlil invasion. He did not see the hag that came with the invaders. But still, Harrold must have heard all the stories, and yet Ulf was the one who knew she could get directions to Ellingham that would avoid all the farms and villages along the way. Abraxas showed up on Lindisfarne right after she killed Ulf, and he called her a cheater. Why should he care about one more mean Viking? He might have wanted her to be killed, but the circumstantial evidence pointed to Abraxas being more involved in that whole enterprise. Ulf was the one who got them to invade Lindisfarne.

Kirstie looked at Wilam but said nothing. Mary Katherine getting married, and the timing of her husband’s disappearance coincided to Abraxas meddling and appearance on the Holy Island too closely for coincidence. If Abraxas was Adam, Mary Katherine could very well be the hag they were after.

“Nolsoy Island on the right,” Brant said, interrupting the couple. “The port of Havn is dead ahead.”

“Yrsa?” Kirstie said as she and Wilam got up and went to the railing.

“I’m looking,” Yrsa responded, but it was an hour yet before they were close enough for even an elf to see anything. It turned out she did not have to report. When they got close, Odger’s longship came out from the port and turned north to try and escape out the top side of Nolsoy Island. Fortunately, Olaf sent Captain Otto to come around the island and approach Havn from the north. Otto moved his ship to block the way and managed to maneuver to force the longship toward the island. Odger had to fight if he wanted to break free, and it got bloody.

In those days, ship to ship battles were fought on the decks of the ships, often grappled together. Otto’s ship, like Olaf’s was built on the Viking model, slim and fast, but like Olaf, he had a below deck. His main deck stood higher in the water than a typical Viking longship, especially when there was not much in the hold. It was from the high ground that Otto’s crew threw several hooks to the Viking ship, to fasten the two ships together. Then the crews went at it. Odger had forty-eight in his Viking crew. Otto had sixty-three, many of whom were men from Lucker and Ellingham, who were still angry enough to want revenge. So the sides were about even. Odger’s men were killers.

The third and final belly boat pulled into Havn to unload their goods, but Olaf sailed north in the wake of the longship and came upon the battle. They rowed to the ships and lowered their anchor on the far side of the Viking longship, far enough to not be caught up in the flames. The longship was on fire. Otto’s ship looked like the place the fire started and it would sink soon enough.

Several men, those that could, swam to Olaf’s ship. They risked serious hypothermia in those waters, even in August. Otto’s longboat came around the back of Otto’s ship. There were some fifteen men squeezed into the boat, and about half of them looked wounded.

Brant took six men in Olaf’s longboat to risk the flames. They gathered another six wounded men before the fire threatened to engulf them. Back aboard, they watched the two ships sink. There was nothing more they could do for any men there who were not yet dead.

Captain Otto made it to Olaf’s ship with a cut in his arm. Greta sewed up lots of deep cuts that day, while Brant turned the ship around and headed for the port. Greta also questioned the few Vikings who were wounded but she did not get any good information until she found Captain Odger’s Skipari.

“Njal is not the captain of the other ship,” the man said. “Gottard Ulfsson has taken the place of his father and says he is sailing to America so he can start again. I do not know where America is except it is west. Far to the west.”

“And the hag is on Ulfsson’s ship?” Greta wanted to be certain they did not drop the hag in the Faroe Islands to begin her work there.

“She is. She is the one who said they must go to America. I thought that was the ancient name for Brittany. I have seen it on some ancient maps.”

“Similar,” Greta said just before the man passed away.

Six young women got taken from Ellingham. Mary Katherine at twenty was the eldest. Mildgyd, Hild, Heather, Cyneburg, and Elizabeth followed, with Elizabeth being just thirteen. Most of the crew imagined they were taken to be thralls, but Kirstie, and a few others, namely the leaders of this expedition understood. If Ulfsson said they were beginning again, they would need some women to do that. The men on his ship could not count on capturing enough native women to make that happen.

“Mary Katherine is the hag,” Wilam said for the hundredth time as they pulled out of the harbor in Reykjavik. They were a day behind Ulfsson, and they did not appear to be getting any closer.

“You don’t know that.” Kirstie tried to sound certain, though all the circumstantial evidence pointed to Mary Katherine. “And if she is, you are not responsible for that. She is a grown woman, able to make her own choices, and has to deal with the consequences of her own actions.”

Wilam heard her, but he still looked at her like he felt responsible no matter what she said. “She is, and now I will have to kill her.”

“That is not your responsibility either.” Kirstie did not say it was her job, but she thought it real hard.

When they reached Greenland, the water sprites who directed their voyage brought them to a native village along the southern coast, or what was left of it. Ulfsson landed there, as the water sprites followed Ulfsson’s path, but nothing remained of the people in that place. The men, including Captain Olaf and Captain Otto hoped that some of the people escaped.

“Maybe there is another village not too far inland,” Captain Olaf suggested.

It looked like a massacre. And some of the men in that place were shredded, clearly the work of the hag.

“We can assume they took whatever food and water these villagers had,” Brant said. “They will eat while we go hungry.”

“Maybe we need to stop and see what we can gather from the wilderness.”

“No,” Kirstie said. “We push on. The water sprites can supply us with fresh water, and we can fish.”

“How so?” Captain Olaf wondered.

Kirstie turned to face the water and shouted to the sea. “I need three salmon, three mature cod, and three mature redfish.” They waited, but eventually three salmon, four codfish and seven golden redfish leaped out of the water and landed on the deck. Men gathered the fish and began to clean them for the fire while Kirstie said, “Thank you.”

“I count seven redfish,” Wilam pointed out.

“So? Fish don’t count well,” Kirstie said, and she called to Vingevourt.

Vingevourt came with a friend. “This is Traventor, Lord of the Labrador Sea. I must return to the North Sea and to my work, but he will take you from here, and he has important news.”

“Lady,” Traventor bowed. “I have spoken with your children in the clouds. The hag has called on some unknown power and called great winds from the north. It will race down the straight between the lands and strike the sea when you are half-way across. The rain will come with it, and there is no stopping it.”

“Sky babies,” Kirstie immediately called to the clouds. “Come to me my children.” Two small clouds separated from the already darkening clouds overhead.

“The storm is coming,” the clouds spoke.

“We cannot stop it.”

Traventor also spoke. “The waves will grow big as is their way.”

Kirstie nodded. “I do not ask you to stop the storm, but can you turn it some toward the land we came from.? And Traventor, can the sprites in the waves keep this ship steady and on course?”

“We will do all we can,” the clouds spoke again.

“May it be enough.”

“We can keep you from tipping over or sinking,” Traventor said. “We may even move you faster than you have been moving if the cyclone cooperates. If not, we will try to keep you from falling behind. But you better hold on.”

Kirstie thanked them and the sprites went back to their business while Kirstie turned to Captain Olaf. “Prepare for storm running,” she said. “We better tie ourselves down.”

Brant, Captain Otto, and Captain Olaf all tried not to panic as the sky darkened.

Medieval 6: K and Y 12 Follow, part 1 of 2

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Kirstie

“Lady?” Yrsa stepped up alongside Kirstie and Wilam as they looked at the approaching islands. Kirstie looked worried. “Lady?” Yrsa prompted again.

Kirstie shook her head to bring her thoughts back to the task at hand. “I’m sorry. My mind is worried about Soren. I have never been away from him for so long.”

“Don’t worry,” Wilam assured her with a hug. “He has three grandparents to spoil him, if we include Brant’s mother, and three uncles to keep him entertained.”

“Birdie and Missus Kettle will watch over him,” Yrsa said. “Soren has known the dwarf wives since birth and loves them well.”

“I know all that,” Kirstie said, and added in a small voice, “But I miss him.”

Captain Olaf stepped up to the railing and commented, not quite catching up to the conversation. “I’m also sorry we missed them in Aberdeen. Catching all three there would have simplified things.”

“I thought we might catch all three of them,” Kirstie agreed. “But it is almost like they knew we were coming,”

“Yes,” Wilam agreed with his wife. “We will have to ask the one here in the Orkneys how they knew and slipped out to sea just before we arrived.”

Captain Olaf offered a suggestion. “They were not likely welcomed in Aberdeen and may have left before they got arrested. It might have been coincidence that we just missed them.”

“Well,” Wilam said. “At least we lost one of our slow belly boats in Aberdeen because they had trade there. We will lose another one here.”

“Well.” Captain Olaf said the same word and in much the same way. “Captain Otto has a ship like my own and many crew from Lucker. We both have some fill-in crew from Lucker and Ellingham. There will be at least two ships to the end of the journey, wherever that takes us.”

Wilam and Kirstie nodded. Yrsa kept her eyes on the port, as Brant directed the rowers and guided the ship into the bay where they would drop anchor and take a longboat to the dock.

Yrsa began to report what she saw with her good elf eyes. “It is Kare’s ship. They are making no preparations to hurry away. There are many officials in the port. They appear to be waiting for our arrival. It looks like Kare and the men of Strindlos and Nidaros are being watched.”

They stopped and dropped the anchor. Captain Olaf ordered the lifeboat to be lowered. Captain Otto stopped close to them, and he lowered his own lifeboat. The belly boat that had timber to trade for the Orkneys angled in toward the dock. The other belly boat that said they could take their trade to the Shetland Islands, or even the Faroe Islands if they had to go that far kept back from the others in a place where they could watch.

“There are men on the dock that look like soldiers,” Yrsa warned as they squeezed ten people into the lifeboat.

When the two lifeboats reached the dock, Captain Olaf went straight into merchant mode. “Torf-Einarr, my old friend. How good it is to see you again.”

Einarr Rognvaldsson, Earl of the Orkneys grunted. “Olaf.” He kept his eyes on the women who came to the dock. Olaf went with it.

“May I present Lady Kristina of Strindlos, the Maid of Lindisfarne, and her faithful companion, Yrsa.”

Einarr looked at the two in their comfortable dresses and smiled. He imagined the story he heard had to be terribly exaggerated.

Kirstie caught the look and called for her armor. It instantly replaced her dress and came with all the weapons attached, including her battleaxe. Yrsa quietly changed her dress to her leather and pulled her bow almost as fast.

Einarr’s eyes went from unbelief to shock, and he mumbled, “Your husband is waiting for you.”

“Wilam is my husband,” Kirstie said, patting Wilam on his chest. “I divorced Kare the jerk two years ago.” She marched right passed the Earl and his guard so she could yell at Kare to his face. “You idiot!”

“As soon as I found out you were following us, I stopped to wait for you. I swear,” he said.

“Men of Strindlos,” she said, looking around at the faces behind Kare, many of whom she knew. “And Nidaros,” she added for the rest. “I am ashamed of you all. You are acting like a bunch of Vanlil. It was not that many years ago we drove off the Vanlil that wanted to loot our homes and kill our women and children, and now you have gone and done it! Thoren, I am especially ashamed of you.”

Thoren stepped up. “I refused to participate. There were five of us. We kept the ship while the rest went.”

Kirstie nodded that she heard, but she noticed Einarr stepped up to listen to the exchange. “Kare. Captain Riggson has agreed to make room for our stuff once he unloads the timber he brought. You need to return everything you pirated.”

“Too late. It has all been confiscated.” Kare looked at the earl.

Kirstie turned her eyes and Torf-Einarr spoke softly. “I will keep some, but I can return some and maybe compensate a bit for what I keep.”

Kirstie knew that he would return a pittance and offer a token of compensation, but it was better than nothing. She turned back to address Kare’s crew and drew on some information her Storyteller hastily researched. “The earl here spent his first years as ruler driving the pirates away from his islands. Now you have played the pirate and you are in his hands. You should listen to what I told the captains of Strindlos. Trade works. We have a great forest full of Norwegian lumber, and animals whose furs and hides would be much appreciated by these… Orcadians. Fair and free trade makes for happy people on both sides of the North Sea.” She turned to the earl. “And happy people are not rebellious people and will defend their happy homes from invaders.” Einarr gave her a slight nod as he thought about it.

She turned again to Kare. “I am sure the earl here, or his merchants would pay a fair price for some lumber and quality furs. It would require some work and would not make you instantly rich, but you can make a good living and not worry about someone wanting to chop your head off for piracy.” She shrugged, like it was not her choice. “Personally, I would send you home with nothing. Poorer but hopefully wiser. But it is not up to me.” She turned her back on them.

“Kirstie,” Kare pleaded, and Kirstie turned back, but only to say one more thing. “Thoren, with the earl’s permission, you and your five that refused to participate in the raid on the villages can ride with us, if you want.”

Thoren looked at Kare. He looked at the earl. Then he looked at Kirstie and shook his head. “I think we may negotiate and work something out. I also believe it is important not to abandon one’s captain and crew.”

“I’ll tell Hilda you love her,” Kirstie said.

“Hilda?” Einarr asked, enjoying the drama.

“His wife,” Kirstie said.

“My wife,” Thoren said at the same time.

Kirstie turned back around and did not even flinch when Kare called her again. She called to her dress and her armor vanished. She hugged Wilam as soon as she could. “I’m sorry you had to see that,” she whispered. “I was forced into the marriage. I tried, but he was just horrible. I thank God for you every day.”

Wilam just smiled at her.

“Ahem,” Captain Olaf got their attention. “I’ve arranged with the harbor master to supply food for the three ships for a voyage of unknown duration. It is getting expensive.”

“I will pay you what I have. Money doesn’t matter. I have a family now, including a younger brother. I always wanted a younger brother.” She smiled at Wilam, but he spoke.

“Nonsense. The people of Lucker and Ellingham will pay your expenses.”

“Some of the men will not be happy that these are being let go,” Captain Otto interrupted. “Some would like to see these men hung for what they did.”

“I understand,” Kirstie said. “And they may well be hung or give their heads to the axe. The thing is it is out of our hands. The Jarl of Orkney will decide their fate.”

Captain Otto indicated that he understood, and added, “I have got a promise from the clerk to send a full accounting of the goods and any coins the earl may return or pay. It is not that I don’t trust Riggson, but he has been known to scoop some off the top as a transportation fee.”

“Delivery fee,” Kirstie said. “Not entirely unreasonable.”

“So, only one question.” Captain Olaf patted his ample old belly. “Where do we go from here?”

Kirstie nodded. “Vingevourt,” she called. He came right away and reported without being asked.

“The two ships anchored in the Shetlands for two days. They resupplied, whatever that means. Then the one with the women and the hag headed for the Faroe Islands, and the other headed toward the Norwegian shore, but just about an hour ago, the one headed for Norway turned around and also headed for the Faroe Islands. The second ship is at least a full day behind the first.”

“Odger,” Kirstie guessed. “He knew he could not go home to Vigg but imagined he might hide out somewhere in Norway where I could not find him. It took a day to realize I would find him no matter what. The elves or dwarfs would find out and tell me, wherever he went.”

“We can cut the corner by skipping the Shetland Islands and heading straight for the Faroe Islands. When can we leave?” Captain Otto asked Olaf.

“As soon as we resupply. First thing in the morning, on the morning tide,” Olaf answered.

“Lord Vingevourt,” Kirstie began, but Wilam interrupted.

“The one ship has a hag aboard?” Wilam caught the word. “Are you sure?”

“Yes indeed,” Vingevourt said in all seriousness. “A most terrible monster. I remember Lord Festuscato faced the hag prototype, the one named the Grendel, the son of the werewolf.”

“Festuscato?” Wilam looked at Kirstie.

“Me. Five hundred years ago.” She tried to whisper in Wilam’s ear.

“Grendel,” Captain Otto asked. “Beowulf?”

“That’s the one,” Vingevourt said. “But Beowulf did not finish the monster or the mother…”

“Wait. That part does not need to be told,” Kirstie said out loud. “It is a long story. Anyway, Lord Vingevourt, we will leave in the morning. With some speed, we might catch the one ship in port and the other just arriving.” She turned to the captains. “I hope we can arrive about the same time as Odger.”

“We will help,” Vingevourt said.

“Thank you for all your help,” Kirstie said. “And thank all of your sprites.”

“Our pleasure,” Vingevourt said, and the words sounded truly gleeful. He fell back off the edge of the dock and a couple of men reached out instinctively, like they were going to keep him from falling into the water before they realized what they were doing. Vingevourt disappeared in the waves.

Medieval 6: K and Y 11 The Chase, part 2 of 2

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Kirstie

Kirstie took his hand and led him down to the beach where the last of the Viking ships, Kare’s ship was still visible in the distance. The men had come to the rocks with the horses, but only a few followed Wilam and Kirstie down to the beach. They heard the call, and it was strangely soft and loud and somehow echoed across the sea. “Vingevourt.”

It took a few seconds before a good hundred little blobs of sea took shape and invaded the shore, not like a wave breaking, but like an invasion of Jellyfish-like gingerbread men. The humans took many steps back, but Kirstie spoke to the king of the water sprites of the North Sea.

“We need to follow the three Viking ships that just left this shore. Can you track them and help our ships follow in their wake.”

“We can do that, easy,” Vingevourt answered, and he answered in such an excited, sweet baby-like voice some of the men who backed up moved forward again.

“We will be leaving from Bamburgh in two days. Can you meet us there to help guide us? That will give the Viking ships a two-day head start, but we don’t want to lose them.”

“Oh, don’t worry. We know every ship and shore in the sea, and we will be right on top of them all the way. Would you like us to slow them down until you get there?”

“Not at this time. Just lead the way and let us know when they stop in a port, and where they are.”

“Why sure. Not a problem. Meet you in two days.” The jelly babies turned back to the sea.

“Goodbye,” Wilam said, smiled, and waved.

“Goodbye. Bye. See ya later. Bye.” the sprites all answered.

Kirstie turned to Wilam and hugged him. “My water babies are so cute.” she breathed, and Wilam did not disagree with her.

“Beg pardon,” Brant interrupted them. “You don’t have a ship to follow them.”

“Well?” Wilam said. “We just have to wake Captain Olaf from his August sleep.”

Brant nodded and said, “I’m not waking him. But one ship on three is not very good odds.”

One of the elders spoke up. “Captain Otto will sail with you. He is coming with the men on foot. I’ll explain it to him, and I am sure there will be others.”

Kirstie just smiled up at Wilam. “We have time to get Soren settled before we sail, but you will have to lead my horse while I hang on. Talking in my head with my little ones always gives this mortal woman a headache.”

Wilam kissed her on the top of her head. “I’ll take it slow.”

Yasmina

Al-Rahim insisted. He took Ziri and Gwafa into town and secured rooms in a hostel. They would have a home cooked meal and warm beds and would not have to set tents in the wilderness for a change, but Al-Rahim would go first to make sure it was safe. They all knew it was risky, but the princess had been very good camping all those weeks without complaint. Now that they reached the no man’s land, where the Fatimid and Egypt both staked a claim but neither side actually controlled, al-Rahim thought they might get away with a visit to a village if it was small enough and out of the way enough.

Ziri and Gwafa stayed in the one road that ran through the center of the village, looking for enemy soldiers, possible hostiles, or any people that might be interested enough in the news and current events where they might contrive some way to betray them for a reward. Such things were not always easy to spot, but the village looked peaceful enough.

Al-Din and his three men stayed in the wilderness with Yasmina and Aisha. They hid behind a small rise in the landscape. Al-Din, Yasmina, and Aisha climbed up to the top of the rise but could not honestly see much, except Aisha who had elf eyes.

“There are men and camels in the distance coming to the village,” Aisha said.

“A caravan? Merchants or soldiers?” Yasmina asked.

“How can you see that? All I see is some distant dust,” al-Din said.

“Caravan,” Aisha concluded. “But Berbers of some sort.” That meant they might be friendly, and they might not. The Fatimids filled their army with Berber soldiers.

“A rider,” al-Din pointed and turned to his men. They were the last of the guard sent by the governor of Alexandria on the diplomatic mission to the Fatimids. They agreed to work for al-Din, at least until they got back to Alexandria and got paid. “A rider,” he shouted to the men. “I think it is Ziri. Omar, go check it out.”

Omar mounted his horse, sort of saluted, but he did not say anything. The others watched as the riders met and saw them wave to join them. Yasmina slid down the back of the rise. Aisha walked it with no problem. Al-Din tried to walk, but stumbled and in the end, rolled the last few feet.

When they mounted their horses, Yasmina spoke to everyone. “Remember, I am Jasmine, my maid is Yrsa…” She pointed at al-Din. “And you are Aladdin, my cousin. Now, like we planned.”

Omar waited to ride beside al-Din. Yasmina and Aisha rode behind, and the last two guards, Ali and Sulayman, brought up the rear. Ziri rode out front and brought them to the hostel before he explained.

“Captain Al-Rahim overpaid to secure two rooms. The other three in the hostel are reserved for the caravan chiefs that are expected to arrive soon. The man says they come through about once per month and sometimes take all the rooms, but sometimes only the chiefs take rooms and the rest camp in the street.” Ziri shrugged. “We get the street, but we will be by the door in case we are needed. The man said they are friendly merchants, so we will see.”

“You better set your tents,” Aisha told the men. “I saw camels in the distance. They will be here shortly.”

Aisha, al-Din, and Yasmina all went inside. Then they had to sit at a table and wait for three hours until the caravan arrived, and the merchants got settled. It was late when the food came, and al-Rahim had to make some threatening noises to make sure the boys outside got fed, which he had paid for in advance.

The chiefs of the caravan seemed nice, but standoffish. After they ate, they went straight to their rooms, but there did seem to be a bunch of Berbers coming and going throughout the evening.

Al-Rahim felt suspicious from the beginning. He set up a watch on the inside balcony outside of their two rooms. Each of the guards stood vigilant for two hours in the night. Al Rahim himself stayed in al-Din’s room and imagined they would be safe enough, but around midnight he got up and ordered the men to saddle the horses and pack everything to leave. Omar, the head of al-Din’s three guards thought he was being paranoid, but the men complied and then had to sleep outside in the open.

Gwafa was on watch when an old woman came to him from one of the merchant rooms. “Please,” she said. “Tafir is an old man, and he will hurt himself. Please, could you help us? It will only take a minute.”

Gwafa looked at the curtains covering the two doors and thought it should be all right. He stepped down to the room and the woman opened the curtain. As he went in, he found two men there. One covered his mouth, though he let out a muffled cry when the other stabbed him in his chest. The two wrestled Gwafa to the ground and stabbed him several times before he stopped moving. When they went to the balcony, two other men met them.

Aisha woke as soon as Gwafa cried out through the hand over his mouth. She woke Yasmina, banged the pommel of her knife against the wall to wake al-Rahim and hopefully al-Din, and woke Yasmina again who did not want to get up.

“Dress,” she said, and brandished her knife which got Yasmina’s attention. Yasmina yawned but called to her armor and weapons when she heard the men in the hall. The men came in quiet and carefully, thinking the women were still asleep. One got Aisha’s knife. The other got sliced across the chest with Yasmina’s scimitar. Yasmina stared at what she did with dumb, uncomprehending eyes while Aisha finished the man.

Al-Rahim poked his head into the room and said, “Hurry.” They hurried, Yasmina still carrying her scimitar in her hand. When they got outside in the dark, they heard noises and a couple of screams from overhead. Aisha grabbed Yasmina’s scimitar and wiped it clean on her sleeve. She reached to put it back in the sheath, but Yasmina said, “Go home,” and the scimitar and sheath both vanished.

Aisha got Yasmina up on her horse while al-Rahim did the same for al-Din. We have to ride. Now!” Al-Rahim shouted and started down the road, right through the middle of the Berber caravan camp.

“Gwafa?” Ziri asked.

“Not coming,” Aisha said, and it was the last thing any of them said as they rode hard. One arrow came in their direction, but it fell way short. Al-Rahim pulled up on a bump in the road to look back. He could hardly see well, even with the nearly full moon and all the stars out.

“Hopefully, they will not follow,” he said.

“We could go off the road,” Omar suggested.

Al-Rahim shook his head. “This is their land. They know the countryside and we don’t.” He looked at Yasmina and Aisha, both of whom yawned, Yasmina because she got so rudely awakened and Aisha because she was what Kirstie would call a light elf, and not made for the dark hours. “Our only hope is to continue on this back road until we come to the coastal highway. Hopefully we can lose them there.”

“If they follow,” Ziri said.

“You could go this way,” someone by Yasmina’s feet spoke which made Yasmina shriek and pull up her foot. She almost fell off the horse. When she squinted down, she identified the little one and yelled.

“Creeper!”

“Oh, yeah,” he said, like he forgot. “Boo.”

“Not funny,” she said before she changed her mind. “Slightly funny.”

“Me and my gang have been following you,” Creeper spoke up. “I figure right now you could use some help getting away where they can’t follow you.”

“Do you think?” Al-Din practiced his sarcasm.

“Is it safe?” Omar asked.

“Which way?” Al-Rahim had no problem following the imp.

“Come,” Creeper responded to the old man and led them by elf ways and secret paths that put some real distance between them and any pursuers they might have.

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

MONDAY

*

Medieval 6: K and Y 11 The Chase, part 1 of 2

M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Kirstie

Gathering men proved difficult. Most of those who were alive were too old or too young, or they were too busy grieving their losses and being afraid. Some wanted revenge, so they did gather some, about twenty-five or so. Most could not ride, even if they had the horses, so they were stuck moving on foot, just like the Vikings. Kirstie could only hope that the mules and oxen pulling the Viking wagons would slow them down enough so they could be caught.

Wilam caught up with Kirstie in the village center. “I sent a man on Brant’s horse to Lucker to see if he can raise more men. I told him the route, being the road to the coast, so they can find us. Are you sure they will stick to the road?”

Kirstie nodded. “Fairly sure. They have wagons. They know from the last time that the nearest fortress is hours away, and the nearest Manor house with soldiers is also a long way. They are not worried about an army from Bamburgh. They figure they will be gone before men can be fetched from Bamburgh.”

“The coastal watch might catch them,” one man suggested, but Kirstie shot down that idea.

“The coastal watch might call up forty men or so after a couple of hours, but we are talking at least three shiploads of Vikings. That is maybe a hundred and forty warriors. Even the coastal watch would have to wait for reinforcements, and by then the Vikings will be long gone.”

“So why are we going after them with just twenty-five men?” One man raised his voice and several men sounded like they might back out of going.

Kirstie had to get up on the steps to talk to all the men. She called to her battleaxe and her shield. They came to her back and her sword automatically shifted to her hip to make room, and she yelled. “I once stood down four hundred men by myself on the island of Lindisfarne. We will be the reinforcements for the coastal watch, plus men will come from Lucker to join us. If we move now, we can catch them before they go to sea. Are we ready?”

Most men mumbled, “Yes,” and “I guess so.” But when Kirstie started down the road, the men fell in behind. One hustled to her side and smiled.

“You are the woman of legend,” he said. “I heard the story as the bards tell it. We all have.”

Kirstie looked up at Wilam on horseback to see if he was listening in. She told the man, “You shouldn’t believe everything you hear.”

When they got about half-way to the coast, they had to stop. A rider caught up with them. They waited for some thirty-five men to join them. Brant came with them, and he apparently got his horse back. They had sixty men at that point, and twenty were on horseback, so Kirstie called the horsemen to her. She had an idea.

“Is there a back way to the coast that does not run along this main highway?”

“Several,” the men said. “But they wind more through farms and such and take longer to get there.”

“But not so long on horseback as on foot.”

“No. Not so long.” The men agreed.

“And how many of you know the coast and the people who still live there? Do you know the coastal watch people?” Most of them knew someone. “So here is what I recommend. Ride ahead. We will start marching again, but you ride ahead until you spot the Vikings on the road. Then ride around them and raise the coastal watch and as many others as you can get to come out and block the road just before the coast. Don’t let them get on the north-south coastal road or they will elude us. But send at least two or three men back to us to let us know how far away we are and whether we need to hurry.”

“We will have them surrounded,” Wilam said.

“Not exactly,” Kirstie answered. “They might still outnumber us. But we should have the road blocked in hopefully a strong defensive position and might negotiate to get back the hostages. And if they try to escape by cutting across country, they will have to abandon their wagons.”

“Right,” Brant said and gave the horsemen no choice. They mounted and rode off at all speed, and Kirstie started the rest of the group moving again. about an hour later, three men came riding up to report. The Vikings were about an hour ahead. The coastal watch had the road blocked, and if they hurried, they could trap them on the road.

They hurried, but when they arrived at the expected place, they found only the men from the coast there. The Vikings had vanished.

Brant, Wilam, and two men rode out from the other side. The coastal men spoke to the leaders from Ellingham and Lucker, and Kirstie. Kirstie had to yell to be heard.

“Is there a cutoff?” the men paused and Kirstie spoke. “Is there a trail or path that cuts the corner from this road to the coastal road?” The men looked at each other, and one of the coastal watch said there was.

“But it is not easy to find. How could they even know about it?”

“Hostages,” Brant figured it out, and the men instantly understood.

“We might still be able to catch them,” Kirstie said. She looked at the men on horseback and yelled at the one she recognized. “Hrothgar, give me your horse. You need to hurry these men as much as you can.”

Hrothgar looked like he did not want to do that. He looked at his big brother, Brant, but Wilam just scowled and said, “You heard my wife. Hurry up.”

Hrothgar got down reluctantly, and Kirstie mounted the horse. She knew how to do that much. Then she traded places again with the Princess and rode off quickly before the men could get a good look at her. The rest of the men on horseback, now about thirty, took a few minutes to catch up. The other ninety or so men on foot would come along more slowly.

The Vikings got to the coastal road before the horsemen arrived. It took another half hour to find the place where the longships were hidden. The Vikings were loading their ships and abandoning the mules and wagons. One man and two horses took arrows from the dozen that shot out from the rocky ridge overlooking the inlet and the ships. The riders had to pull back and get down behind some trees.

“Damn,” Kirstie swore in English and followed up with several words from several languages unknown to the men that were there. They all understood the sentiment. Some men had bows, but the distance was too great for their arrows. It meant the men in the rocks could not reach them with any more arrows either, so it became a standoff.

While Brant and a couple of elders tried to figure out how to get around and dislodge the men in the rocks. the Princess stepped aside to close her eyes and reach out with her thoughts. She found all sorts of little ones watching the events transpire, but they were not in any better position to disrupt the Vikings than the men. The young elf lord Marsham had a group up from the southern coast that lived near the mouth of the Coquet River. Dwarfs under the leadership of Warthog, son of Piebald were marching down from the Cheviot Hills. A fairy troop under Hassel and Lady Heath, daughter of May and Pinewood from the Till River were the first to arrive.

Hassel got there first and moved without asking permission. His troop, which the Vikings probably took to be a flock of birds, came to the rocks, got big, and shot half of the Vikings before they could abandon their position. The other half went down when they tried to run away. Before the fairies could move on the ships, Kirstie, who had come back to her own life sent the mental message that the fairies needed to stop and come to her. She became very afraid that they might be injured if they pressed too hard. Even as she feared, a blast of fire like from a flamethrower came from the ships and covered the rocks. The fairies got small and ducked down in the cracks and crevasses, but even so, a few got burned, though none badly.

Kirsti moved carefully toward the rocks where she could look down on the ships. Wilam, Brant and a few of the men followed her, though most of the men kept back with the horses, being spooked by the flames that temporarily covered the rocks.

When Kirstie arrived, she heard from Marsham who also just arrived. “We are not in a good position to charge the ships. They appear to be getting ready to sail.” Even as he thought, one of the ships pulled away from the landing, abandoning the wagons and mules on the rocky shore.

“No,” Kirstie spoke out loud. “And Hassel and Heath are not permitted to go there, either.”

“You better save some for us.” Kirstie heard from Warthog, though he was still some distance away.

“No one is getting a chance,” she spoke out loud. “They are already setting sail. Warthog, you might as well go home. You too Marsham. Thank you for your concern. Maybe next time. Warthog, maybe next time. We were not quick enough this time.”

Kirstie heard Warthog’s colorful language in her head. It sounded much more colorful than her own brief swearing session. “When I get home, I’ll tell Booturn what you said.” Warthog chose not to answer her.

Marsham apologized. “We came as quickly as we could.”

“I know you did” Kirstie continued to talk out loud. The men, other than Brant and Wilam, looked at her with curious faces. “Thank you. Just give a hug to your mother, Letty when you get home.”

“Lady,” Hassel and Heath came to face her, and Hassel looked prepared to get yelled at.

“No,” Kirstie said, even as the fairies came into focus and several of the men backed off. “No yelling. Thank you for rousting out the Vikings. We were too slow getting here. If we caught them on the road and you and Marsham blocked the way to their ships, we might have held them long enough for the men on foot to arrive, and… and Warthog. But they escaped, and now we have to follow them. And Heath, thank you for coming with your husband. You know, I miss your parents. I’m sorry I never saw them with these eyes.”

“Lord,” Hassel acknowledged Wilam.

“Lady,” Heath curtsied in mid-air, and it was about perfect.

Kirstie mumbled, “That is how it is done.”

Wilam turned to her and asked. “What do you mean follow them?”