Kairos

Medieval 6: K and Y 10 Trouble at Home, part 2 of 2

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Kirstie

Kirstie looked at Yrsa who sat on the floor with Soren. He looked ready to take a nap.

“Go on,” Yrsa said. “Soren and I will be fine.”

Wilam and Kirstie stepped outside and saw their things piled up in front of the door. They paused long enough to take their things inside as Wilam told Yrsa. “The wagon driver abandoned us.”

“I don’t blame him,” Yrsa said. “A Viking raid can be frightening.”

“No telling who might still be around,” Wilam said as the couple turned to head into the village center.

Kirstie shook her head. “They are all on the road back to the coast with whatever they took from the town. You can be sure none of them are around where they might be caught and killed.”

Wilam understood that. He also looked at the faces of the dead, but they were mostly faces he grew up around. It appeared that roughly three locals died for every one Viking, and this was a village of former mostly Danish Vikings who settled on the land. Brant’s father was a Norseman, but it amounted to the same thing. Still, the invaders took a three to one toll. They must have surprised the village, like at dawn when people were asleep or just waking up.

“Wilam.” They were found. A young man ran to them. Kirstie guessed it was Hrothgar, Brant’s baby brother. “Father is over here,” he said and led them to the entrance of the longhouse. The man was dead, and several others died around him. Several Viking raiders died in the entrance to the longhouse as well.

“Father Sven,” Wilam touched the man, but he was gone.

“Father made me go inside,” Hrothgar said. “He said I would be the backup in case the raiders got passed him and into the building.” He paused and let out some tears. “I didn’t know what to do. It was all so frightening and sudden.”

“Come on,” Wilam said, kindly. “We must go home. Eadmund does not have long to live.”

“Eadmund?” Hrothgar said, and he took off running.

“Wilam.” an older man stopped them from following Hrothgar. “I hid behind the grocer’s shop. I heard them talking. They are going to Ellingham before they return to their ships.”

Wilam said nothing. He looked in the direction of his home, grabbed Kirstie’s hand and they ran to the house.

Wilam and Brant’s horses were still out in front of Brant’s house, saddled, and ready to ride. “Hurry,” Wilam said, but Kirstie did not know how to ride a horse. She was just thinking of getting some and learning. She had not actually done it yet, but she did have one option. The Princess was practically born on horseback.

“Ready,” Kirstie said and traded places through time with the Princess. She came in her armor, her sword at her back and her long knife across the small of her back. She leapt up on the horse, but then had to let Wilam take the lead. They rode flat out for the hour and arrived at a farm where the Vikings were just leaving. Wilam got down to run into the house. The Princess stood on her horse’s back and let an arrow fly. Her arrow was hardly a perfect shot, but she caught one of the Vikings in the leg.

Kirstie came back as soon as the Princess dismounted. She followed Wilam into the house. She saw the two boys, Ecgberht and Godric, down by the barn where they hid. Wilam’s Stepfather Espen sat in the kitchen with a deep wound in his side. His mother, Wilburg looked covered in blood. She had a broken arm and cried as she tried to stop Espen from bleeding to death.

“Look out,” Greta said. Wilam recognized her and pulled his mother aside. Greta spread an ointment to numb the pain in the man’s side, and also some ointment on the man’s knee where he had been cut. The knee looked crushed. She got her thread back out and immediately began to stitch the side closed while she spoke. “I don’t know if anything vital had been cut. All I can do is close the wound and hope that it heals.” When she finished, she looked at the knee, clicked her tongue, and looked at the man who was awake and not in too much pain because of the anesthetic ointment.

“What?” he asked.

Greta turned to Wilam’s mother. Her broken arm was easy to set, a clean break, and she found some wood to make a temporary splint and some cloth to make a sling. She spoke to Espen.

“If you are stubborn enough to survive, you will limp after this, but you must stay off your leg for a month or you will not survive.” She had a different ointment with some antibiotic properties she spread against infection, and she set what bones in his knee that she could and wrapped the leg and his side with the cleanest cloth she could find in the house, but it would be up to the man to rest and stay off his leg and not lift anything that might stress his side.

“Your wife?” Espen pointed at Greta.

“Not exactly,” Wilam said. “Sort of,” he said, which confused his mother and father. Greta thought it best to go outside before she let Kirstie come back. When she did, she called to the boys down by the barn. They were already running to the house, and when they arrived, they yelled.

“They took Mary Katherine. They took Mary Kathrine.”

Wilam wanted to mount up immediately and chase the Vikings, but Kirstie would not let him. “You will just get yourself killed,” she said. “Let the Princess track them. You and me alone will not help matters. We need an army.”

Wilam wanted to argue, though he knew she was not wrong. He turned to his brothers. “Ecgberht, get out the wagon and hitch up the mule. Godric, help. Kirstie and I will ride carefully to town to see what has transpired. If the Vikings have left, we may stop to gather some men to help. You need to get Mother and Father in the wagon with plenty of blankets to cushion their injuries and head for Lucker. Go to the Svenson house and stay there until I come for you.

“Why can’t we stay here?” Mother Wilburg asked.

“You and Father are in no condition to take care of yourselves, and neither is Brant’s mother. Brant’s father is gone. The Vikings attacked Lucker first before coming here. Hrothgar survived and with Ecgberht and Godric you will be surrounded by boys who can protect you if the Vikings return. I don’t know about supper. None of you should be cooking and such.” Wilam paused to look at Kirstie.

“Birdie and Missus Kettle,” Kirstie decided. She clapped her hands and the two dwarf wives appeared. Kirstie explained the special assignment and also explained about the wounds, then Wilam and Kirstie, or rather the Princess mounted up and went to town. The Vikings apparently stole some wagons. They piled up all their stolen loot from Lucker and Ellingham and drove the wagons toward the sea.

The trail should be easy to follow,” the Princess said. “But we need men to go with us. Just the two of us will not do any good.”

Medieval 6: K and Y 10 Trouble at Home, part 1 of 2

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Kirstie

Captain Olaf’s crew rowed plenty between the towns. The sail only got set a few times. They had to watch out for the small islands and rocks that stuck out from the sea like pretend islands. But then the crew got plenty of rest when the captain and his officers bargained in port. Even so, they were glad when the sail went up and they headed for home. Of course, the closer they got the more nervous Kirstie became.

Wilam laughed.

Kirstie, Wilam, Soren, and Yrsa stayed in Bamburgh for a week while Captain Olaf met with the buyers for his grain, hides, and furs. He did not get as much as he wanted for his grain, but he got more than expected for the furs, so it evened out. The captain set aside enough for the next trip. His crew got paid out of the profit. It came to so much per week depending on the position aboard ship, and a small bonus for a successful trip. No one would get rich, but it paid better than breaking your back on a farm plot all year, and most of the crew agreed to the fall sailing. Captain Olaf only had to fill a few spots before he would be ready to go on the first of September.

“We have sailed the fall route for ten years,” he told Kirstie. “Flanders, Brittany where they have apples in the fall, Wessex, and Kent. By December first at the latest we should be in East Anglia. Then we may stop in Lindsay and should be home for the hard part of winter. January and February we all relax and gather on the first of March. Spring and summer we used to trade in the north. Edinburgh, Aberdeen, Orkney, and Shetland Islands, and sometimes the Hebrides if we get a delivery contract. We went twice to the Faroe Islands, and once all the way to Iceland.”

“Greenland?” Kirstie asked.

Captain Olaf squinted to think. “No. Where is Greenland?”

Kirstie imagined she was ahead of herself. “So, what prompted you to attempt the waters of those terrible Vikings?”

“We had an invitation, a name, and a reason to go,” Captain Olaf admitted. “Trade in Scotland and the Islands has gotten crowded with ships. It is hard to make a living competing with so many. But Norway. No one has dared the Norse lands for more than a hundred years. If we can be the first to establish several ports for trade, we might not get rich, but we can make a good living. A few more trips like this last one and I might even buy a second ship.”

“And you don’t mind me taking Wilam at this time?” Kirsti asked.

“You go on,” Captain Olaf said. “I first sailed as a navigator and my skills are not that rusty. Besides, I think I could sail the Flanders route with my eyes closed. Take the four weeks of August, just send Brant back to me by the first of September and we will do fine.”

Kirstie planted a kiss on the old man’s cheek and got in the wagon Wilam rented. She took Soren from Yrsa’s arms and loved on the boy, and then tried hard not to complain when the wagon driver hit every rock and pothole he could find. Of course, Wilam and Brant rode on horseback which Kirstie thought was hardly fair, but then she could not exactly take Soren safely on the back of a horse and he was getting too big and heavy for her backpack.

“Mrs. Mom,” she called herself, along with “Mrs. Ouch.”

Lucker was primarily a Danish settlement built up when Halfdan Ragnarsson came storming through the area in 875-876. Wilam was actually born to an Anglish woman in January or February of 878 which made him five years older than Kirstie and raised some question about the timing as to when Halfdan actually went to Dublin. Brant was five years older than Wilam, being born in 873, shortly after the time the people of Northumbria threw off their Danish puppet ruler, Ecgberht I in favor of King Ricsige. King Ricsige only ruled three years before Wilam’s father, Halfdan came in 875 and threw him out.

“Politics, politics,” Kirstie said without explaining.

When they came upon Lucker in the early afternoon, they hurried. They saw smoke, and several homes and buildings, including the church burning brightly. It took no time at all to figure out what happened. Brant and Wilam headed straight for Brant’s home. Kirstie and the wagon stopped in the central square. There were dead bodies around the square, some local men, and some women along with a few Vikings bodies.

Kirstie got down and examined the faces. There were not many Vikings, but she did not have to see many to name the culprits. Njal the Giant, Odger from Vigg, and Kare. At least one of the dead men was from Strindlos. “They waited four years,” Kirstie cried to Yrsa. “They came back because they got away with it so easily on the first trip.” Kirstie got angry thinking about it. “They can’t have docked in the same cove by Howick, but they can’t be far to the coast.”

“Maybe they were seen,” Yrsa suggested.

Kirstie shook her head as Wilam rode up. “Come on, we need your help. Mother Greta maybe,” he said, indicating that there were injuries. Kirstie and Yrsa with Soren mounted the wagon right away and the wagon driver followed Wilam. The house looked fine but inside, Brant’s younger brother was laid out on the bed, his mother sat in the kitchen where she collapsed into a chair. She had a deep cut in her leg. One Viking body blocked the door. Kirstie recognized the body as one of Captain Odger’s men.

Kirstie kissed Wilam’s cheek and traded places through time with Mother Greta. She paused in the doorway to look at Eadmund before she sewed up Brant’s mother’s leg using the self-dissolving thread Doctor Mishka had in her medical bag.

“But what of Eadmund?” Brant asked in his concern. Eadmund, all of twenty-four, a bit more than a year younger than Wilam laid out on the bed and did not moan too much as he passed in and out of consciousness. Sadly, Mother Greta shook her head for Eadmund as she worked on Brant’s Mother’s leg.

“I’m sorry,” Greta said. “There is nothing I can do for him. He won’t suffer for long.”

“Eadmund,” Brant’s mother cried out before she began to cry. She wanted to see him but Greta would not let her walk to him. Brant carried her and set her in a chair by Eadmund’s bed.

Wilam and the wagon driver picked up the Viking in the doorway and threw the body in the street. Men would come and collect the body soon enough. Wilam came back in to sit with Kirstie in the kitchen. He told about growing up next door to Brant. It was not news to Kirstie but talking kept Wilam’s mind occupied and not focused on death.

Halfdan set my mother up in the house next door and charged Brant’s father with watching over her. I was born, and she lived alone for three years before Eadgyd and Sven, Brant’s mother and father introduced her to Espen. Espen became my stepfather when I was about Soren’s age. My mother had a girl, Mary Katherine when I was five, nearly six. She is a year younger than you, twenty, I think. My brothers are Ecgberht, he is seventeen, and Godric is fourteen.

“And Mary Katherine is not married,” Kirstie wanted to get the story straight.

“She was,” Wilam said. “She married a man I never met when she was sixteen, but he disappeared after a month, and we haven’t heard from him since.”

Kirstie felt sorry for Mary Katherine but thought to change the subject. “You moved?” Kirstie asked, knowing Wilam lived in Ellingham, the English town about an hour away. Of course, she already knew all of this, but Wilam seemed to need to talk, so she encouraged him.

“Yes. My father got a chance to buy a good farm outside of Ellingham when I was fifteen. I told him I was not interested in farming. Brant was going to sea and that sounded much more adventurous.”

“Yes, about that…”

“Oh, that is easy to explain. Captain Olaf got the chance to buy his ship, but he needed a crew and decided not any men would do. He came to Lucker to recruit among the old Danish sailors that once owned the North Sea. Brant was eighteen when he first went to sea, being the son of a sailor. That was twelve or thirteen years ago. I was thirteen and missed him, especially two years later when we moved to Ellingham. So, I told my father I was not interested in farming and he, with my mother’s permission, let me move in with Brant’s family where Brant’s father Sven first taught me about navigation. He said Brant and Eadmund did not have the eyes or patience for charts and stars. He also said if I was serious about wanting to go to sea, I had to develop the skill to make myself a valuable crewmember.”

“When did you sail?” Kirstie asked. “I was fourteen when I guided Rune’s longship to Bremen.”

“I was seventeen before Captain Olaf agreed to take me.”

“Wilam,” Brant interrupted them from the other room. “Father and Hrothgar went out and Father left Eadmund here to protect the house. There has been no word from them. I don’t want to leave Eadmund and Mother alone. Would you see what you can find out?”

“Of course,” Wilam said.

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

Monday

The trouble reaches Wilam’s home and they will have to chase the kidnappers. until then, Happy Reading.

*

Medieval 6: K and Y 9 The Journey Begins, part 2 of 2

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Kirstie

Kirstie leaned over the rail when they went by Stadr in the narrow place. She shouted, “We’re going hag hunting.”

The captain had the decency to yell back, “Lykke til,” which was good luck.

When they reached Solvi at the end of the fjord, Kirstie repeated her performance. The men there just laughed and waved.

After they reached the North Sea, Captain Olaf turned the ship to the southwest and did not start right away for the English shore. Kirstie asked, and Wilam showed her the goods still in the hold. They were neatly divided into three equal parts, and that took them to three stops which turned into four stops on the Norwegian shore.

“We did contact a number of villages along the way to find you, you know,” Wilam explained. “At least three of those expressed interest in possible trade.”

“Good thing Yrsa and I speak Norse like a native, and without Brant’s Danish accent.”

Wilam nodded, but he was not sure if Captain Olaf would let her get near the bargaining.

They stopped at Husastadir just over the border into the province called Raumsdalr. The people there gave them good directions to Trondelag when they were coming two years earlier in search of Strindlos. They seemed nice enough, and they bargained in good faith. Captain Olaf got plenty of the furs and grain he wanted, and the people seemed happy with their ironworks.

“It is a good day when both sides get what they want,” Captain Olaf said. “We may come back here again.”

They made a wide swing out to sea to avoid some place and came back into Borgund, a town on a small island off the coast of Norway in South Moeri. The people there were not so nice. They encouraged Captain Olaf when he passed through, but now they wanted the goods for practically nothing. Kirstie could not help herself. She stepped into the middle of it since the local men came aboard the ship to bargain.

“You should deal more honestly with these men if you ever hope to see them again. You know full well the value of these goods.”

The big man looked at her with all the disdain some men have for any woman who steps into his business. “And you are?”

“Lady Kristina from Strindlos in the Trondelag.”

“The witch from Lindisfarne.” One man tried to whisper.

“You killed Captain Ulf Hakenson?” the big man asked.

Kirstie said simply and calmly, “He was on the wrong side.”

One of the elders stepped in front of the big man. “We might double our offer if you come again. We can use more of the same if you have more. The quality of your goods speak for themselves.”

Captain Olaf took the offer. “For a reasonable payment we can certainly bring more, say, in two years’ time? We already have contracts for next spring and summer unless I can manage a second ship.”

“Two years is better than never,” Brant added.

The elder looked at his people, but no one objected. “We will look for you in two years,” he said and did his best to smile. They, in fact, got one and a half the original offer, not double, but Captain Olaf knew better than to complain. Instead, when they sailed off, he said, “Maybe two years.”

The next stop was in the village of Birdla, another settlement on an island just off the coast in Firdafylki—Firdir province. The people there were nice, but poor. They said the weather had not cooperated in the last year, so their crops were slim. Also, the winter was long, so they were not able to hunt much on the mainland. Captain Olaf felt sorry for them, but Kirstie assured him. “The fish are plentiful, even in the winter. They are hardly starving.” The captain nodded and said they might try again in another year.

The last stop was Dinganes, the village at the entrance to the Sogn fjord. Captain Olaf had hoped they did not have to stop there. When they came there before, they had heard that Sogn was a great fjord that went inland for miles. The people in Nordaland said Strindlos might be located there if it was on a great fjord. They sailed up the fjord a short distance and came to Heyangr where the village elders confiscated a portion of their goods for what they called a safe passage fee, though at the same time they confessed that Strindlos was not anywhere on the fjord. They left there and headed back to sea only to be stopped by the people of Dinganes. Those people were not surprised by the way the elders in Heyangr acted. They did not trade for much or have much to trade with, but they were the first to suggest Trondelag was in North Moeri and surely Strindlos would be there.

It turned out Dinganes had enough to buy the last bit of trade the ship carried, so it worked out. They even said they would be interested in more if they should come their way again. They said what they could not take, the town of Gulaping would certainly take. Gulaping was located just south of Dinganes on the same peninsula. It was where the Althing met.

Captain Olaf nodded, smiled, and waved as they headed back out to sea. Then he asked what an Althing was.

“A gathering of the village chiefs and representatives from the whole province,” Kirstie said. “They gather now and then to settle property disputes, village boundaries, hunting and fishing rights and act as a high court for the province. It is really a better way of settling disputes than yelling and fighting.”

“Peace is better than war,” Yrsa said, and Kirstie lifted up her son so he could wave good-bye.

Yasmina

“Lady,” Aisha got Yasmina’s attention. “Aren’t you afraid if we go back to Alexandria, they will find you? People know you were there before being taken to the Fatimid court. You are familiar with the place. And now that you have escaped from the Fatimids, they might expect you to go there, or Fustat, or Petra where you have been before in case you made plans only did not have time or the opportunity to carry them out.”

Yasmina looked at her companion. “Al-Rahim mentioned the same thing, but he said something about a dog returning to its vomit, for which I thanked him. Lovely picture. But I figure we don’t have any choice. We can’t go west through the heart of Berber and Fatimid territory. To what end? So we end up in the hands of the Caliph of Cordoba? That does not sound like a winning strategy. Then we can’t go south into true Africa. We would no doubt be taken as slaves for one tribe or another. Then, east is Egypt and the Qarmatians that we ran away from in the first place.”

“Yes, but Alexandria?”

“We have contacts there through al-Din. We have access to ships through him. If we can help him settle his affairs positively, we can take a ship into the Mediterranean. Then all the Isma’ili fanatics on both sides, east and west, and whoever else may be seeking us will have no way of knowing where we have gone. Then we can truly have a fresh start.”

Aisha rode in silence for a minute while she considered their position. Finally, she said, “Good luck with that.”

Yasmina nodded. “The best laid plans of mice and men gang aft a-gley.”

Medieval 6: K and Y 9 The Journey Begins, part 1 of 2

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Kirstie

Kirstie packed her things. She dressed Soren to travel, and Hilda said Hodur would cry and miss his friend. She hugged Erik and told him to stay out of trouble. She also told him to take care of his mother and brother while his father Thoren was away.

“And if you need anything, food or anything,” she told the boy. “You find Inga or Yrsa and let them know right away. They will help you with whatever you need.” Erik nodded, but Kirstie was not sure he exactly understood, so she asked Alm to have someone keep an eye on the situation. There was no telling how long Kare might stay away now that she divorced him. And that meant it might be a long time before Thoren came home.

“Don’t worry about the farm or the tenants,” Alm said. “You have good people in your tenancies, and Thomas and Gustavs are doing a good job running the farm. Gustavs is content. He says if he did not have the work to keep him busy, he might join a monastery. He is a true believer. As for Thomas, I may talk to Sten, Captain Harroldson’s man up by the Varnes River. He has a young thrall that cooks and cleans and all that sort of thing. Her name is Lyall, from the border of Strathclyde and Pictish lands. She is very unhappy where she is, so maybe Sten might sell her for a reasonable price.”

Kirstie smiled at the thought of Thomas and a girl being in love. “Whatever you think is best,” she said. She knew her little ones were very perceptive in the ways of love. It came from hanging out with Mother Freyja over so many centuries. Mother Freyja loved on the little ones even before she had her Nameless son.

Yrsa stepped up dressed in her leather, a knife at her side. “Ready to sail,” she reported.

“No. Wait.” Kirstie responded. “We are going to meet Wilam’s family. This is not a dangerous mission. No need for you to go.”

Yrsa looked at Alm, but Alm’s expression did not change. Yrsa spoke. “You have a four-year-old and a new husband. You can use the help. Besides, it is practice for when Alm and I have a son.” She looked at Alm again and he smiled at that suggestion.

“But we will be gone a whole year. We won’t be back until next spring.”

“I know, but Alm and I have hundreds of years to live together. We are not short livers like human mortals. Besides, I got my muscles ready for rowing.” She lifted her hand to show off her skinny little arm.

“This is a two-decker ship. I don’t know how much rowing they do.” Kirstie put her hands up in surrender. She really could use the help.

Yasmina

It took some honest effort on Yasmina’s part to drag al-Din out of the pit of depression he had fallen into, but finally, one evening over a campfire, al-Din opened up enough to explain what happened.

“It was my servant girl,” he said. “She is a very kind and good person, always trying to do good for others. She is what my Christian friend, Francesco would call a real saint. You remember Francesco?”

“Yes,” Yasmina said in a small voice. She had thought of him regularly over the last four years of her “captivity” as she now thought of her time in the palace of Mahdiya. She felt bad for al-Hakim. He had been a nice boy despite being a servant of the Masters. But, yes, she remembered Francesco. She remembered his kiss. She thought she might like to see him again. She thought she better pay attention.

“So, the merchant offered new lamps for old ones, and it never occurred to her how senseless that was.”

“Not senseless,” Yasmina objected. “The old lamps—many are solid copper. Most new lamps are cheap tin with a copper coating to make them look good, though they are cheap. Good copper is worth way more, so not entirely senseless.”

“Huh,” al-Din said. “I never considered that.”

“So anyway…” Aisha wanted on with the story.

“So, she traded the lamp of the Jinn for a new tin one. She did not know. All she knew was the dirty old lamp was impossible to clean.”

“That was Suffar,” Yasmina said.

“What?”

“According to the story a thousand years from now, the lamp dealer was Suffar, the Sultan’s Vizir disguised as a poor tradesman.”

“What’s a Sultan?” Aisha asked to the side, but Yasmina waved off the question.

“That makes sense,” al-Din said. “Because Suffar ended up with the lamp and he ordered the Jinn to get rid of me. You see, I asked twice if Badroul would marry me, and twice she said yes. The first time the governor said she was still too young. The second time, he said he would think about it. But I know Suffar asked on behalf of his son and I believe the governor told him the same thing, that he would think about it.”

Al-Rahim spoke up. “I have not had the pleasure, nor the headaches, but I believe it is a natural reaction for a father to dislike their daughter’s boyfriends. I suspect he will always say no until the daughter says she is going to marry the boy anyway, so he might as well say yes.”

“What about me?” Yasmina asked. “I’m like a daughter, or a granddaughter anyway. I give you headaches.”

Al-Rahim nodded. “You are right about that.”

“So anyway, I think Suffar had the idea that the Jinn would kill me by accident or by design. But what he did was whisper in the governor’s ear that I would be a good addition to the diplomatic group. Considering my interest in his daughter, I suspect he did not take much convincing.”

“What about the diplomatic mission? Did someone honestly believe the Mahdi would be interested in peace?” Al-Rahim asked since he did not get the straight story.

“As I understand it,” al-Din answered. “The Caliph sent a letter to the governor of Egypt that said make peace with the Fatimids. The governor of Egypt sent a letter to the governor of Alexandria saying, make peace. The governor of Alexandria told his advisor, go and make peace, and I got caught up in the mission.”

“And what will you do when you get home?” Yasmina asked, kindly changing the subject before al-Din once again turned morose.

Al-Din looked at her with blank, staring eyes before he made his pronouncement. “I will marry that girl no matter what.”

“Hope,” Yasmina said. “Hang on to that. As long as there is life, there is hope.”

Al-Din smiled briefly before he turned it on her. “But what about you? What will you do?”

“My needs are simple,” Yasmina said. “All I want is a safe place, a place I can call home. So far, every place I have been has failed to provide that.”

“Aren’t you afraid of running out of options?” Al-Din asked.

“No way,” she answered. “We have a whole world to explore, and I can’t imagine living long enough to explore it all, at least not in this lifetime.”

Medieval 6: K and Y 8 Shame On Us, part 2 of 2

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Wilam said thanks to Alm and Yrsa for being there for Kirstie. Hilda was also there, but it was mostly to pick up Hodur and Soren and take them to her place for the night. No telling where Erik went. Wilam also said thanks to Thomas and Gustavs, whom he had met. They seemed extra happy, Kirstie figured, not the least for being relieved of Kare. There were also small presents from her tenants, Tove and her young family, and Helga’s family.

Wilam met Mariwood and Buttercup who stayed big the whole time they were there out of deference to the humans. He also met Booturn and Buckles who went with Birdie and Missus Kettle, and who came dressed as dwarfs and did not care about the humans. They had more food and drink which Booturn said was fit for human consumption, the drink being Bjorn the Bear’s recipe. Also, Inga and Brant Svenson were there, sort of a couple. It was a feast on top of the feast, but after a couple of hours, Wilam and Kirstie slipped away to their room.

 Around nine o’clock, Wilam and Kirstie got up. Kirstie felt uncomfortable about something, and after assuring Wilam that she was not uncomfortable with him, she lay there in the quiet trying to puzzle it out. Wilam pointed out that someone was in the main room, talking. They found Inga and Brant Svenson still there. They must have stayed when all the others left.

“Wilam,” Brant said, and smiled. “Inga tells me it is a Norse tradition that people stay by the couple to make sure they are undisturbed on their wedding night.”

“We are undisturbed,” Wilam said, but I think Kirstie is having some kind of premonition. No idea what about.”

Kirstie confessed to Inga that she imagined that whatever troubled Avalon also troubled her; but it was not that. It was more than that, like something else. “I did not feel troubled by Avalon all week. It just never occurred to me. Soren got well, and I got well all at once, the minute Wilam showed up. But now, something is wrong somewhere. If not Avalon, then where?”

“I feel the trouble myself, now that you mention it.” Inga said, and that seemed all Kirstie needed to trigger her actions. She stepped back into her room and to her closet.

“What’s up?” Brant wondered.

Kirstie looked at her armor. She kept it with her rather than sending it back to Avalon as usual. She felt afraid, even then, that if she called to it, it might be slow to respond. She decided not to risk it and stripped to dress the old-fashioned way. Inga kindly averted Brant’s eyes.

“She’s not my little girl anymore,” Inga said while she kept Brant from peeking.

Wilam asked, “Where’s the fire?” Always ready for adventure, it was one of the things Kirstie liked about him.

“I’m not sure,” she said, but with her weapons in place she felt ready for it.

“I’m not sure either,” Inga agreed. Kirstie and Inga looked at each other for a minute while the men stared. They agreed to go to the big house. Kirstie was not certain if the trouble would be found there, but it seemed a logical place to start.

They stepped outside to find someone peeping through the window. Young Erik escaped from being stuck with the babies, Soren and Hodur. He was out much later than he should have been. Hilda was probably worried about him. He started to turn, to run away, but stopped and spoke instead.

“Where are you going?” he asked, with a bright smile but some embarrassment at having been caught.

“Just looking for trouble,” Kirstie answered and smiled her reassurance. She didn’t mind, even if he peeked through the window while she changed. She simply did not have that sense of prudishness common among some. Instead, she would have felt sorry for him if he had not looked. “Come along,” she told him on a whim. Wilam responded by putting his arm around the boy and bringing him to the front of the line.

“Captain,” the boy said, sheepishly. He appeared a bit awed by a real longship captain, though Wilam was the navigator, not the captain. At eight years old, Erik already angled for a place in someone’s ship. He wanted that nailed down before he got old enough.

“We must hurry.” Inga was the only one paying attention to the task at hand. The rest of them seemed more like they were out for a moonlight stroll. They hurried at her word.

The big house looked still lit up from the all-day feast. They saw a big man, running away from the building at all speed. He showed clearly against the bright windows of the house for a minute, but rapidly vanished into the dark. By the time they arrived, the drama was over. They found broken furniture in several places and a broken man sitting against the wall. He bled profusely from his stomach and his left hand did little to stop it. His right hand hung limply at his side.

“Father McAndrews!” Inga jumped to his side. She was the Volva in training, after all, and no doubt would fill Mother Vrya’s place soon enough. She quickly checked the wound and just as quickly concluded. “There is nothing I can do.” Inga pleaded in Kirstie’s direction.

“Erik.” Wilam got the boy’s attention. “Go find the strangers, Lind and Gruden. Just find out where they are and come back here immediately.” Wilam looked at Inga, questioning, because he did not want to put the boy in danger. All she could do was wave without looking up. Kirstie and Inga were too busy. “Go.” He scooted the boy out the door.

“Wilam.” Brant paused. “No, I had better fetch the young priest, and Kerga. You don’t know the village well at all.”

“Nor you,” Wilam said.

Inga stood, shaking her head for the man on the ground and for Brant. “No,” she said. “I’ll go. Your arm may be needed if the murderers come back.” She hid her tears as she gave Brant a quick peck on the cheek and left.

“I failed.” Father McAndrews became conscious. “I fought. I raised my hand to them. Lord, forgive me. I failed.”

“You did not!” Kirstie shot at him as she tied the old priest’s shirt securely around his middle in a vain attempt to stop the bleeding. “You did not fail. Jesus never said turn the other cheek to the devil. He said resist the devil and he will flee.”

“They did not flee.” The Priest took her hand. “They are merely men, not demons. They lured me here with the promise that they would hear my testimony, and I suspected they were lying. And even knowing this, I struck back. I failed.”

“Whether men or demons I will not argue.” Kirstie said, even more softly. “But do not worry. Our lord already paid the penalty for all of our failures.” She would not argue with the priest any further.

“Yes,” he said and suddenly smiled. “It is right I should enter heaven in total dependance on the Savior.” He closed his eyes.

Wilam gently lifted Kirstie by the shoulders. “Inga’s back with young Damien.” Brant spoke from the window. “And Erik at a run. Good boy.”

“They left.” Erik interrupted everyone and then took a long breath because he was winded. Father Damien knelt by his mentor. Inga said Kerga was coming in a minute but slow to react to the news. “They sailed off just now on the evening tide,” Erik finished his report. “I saw them untie the boat.”

A crack like thunder shook the big room, and everyone shielded his or her eyes for a minute against the great light.

“The old priest?” Wilam wondered.

“No.” Inga pointed when the light became bearable. They saw a shimmering figure, a woman, floating near the ceiling, a couple of feet off the ground, looking around as if trying to orient herself to new surroundings. Kirstie recognized her, or rather, her Nameless self far in the past saw her through Kirstie’s eyes and gave her a name.

“Mother Freyja.” She called the goddess and the attention of the goddess focused on her. Freyja continued to shimmer and float in an eerie ghost-like way, and Kirstie alone knew it was because she was a ghost. She, and the other Gods of Aesgard and Vanheim passed over to the other side ages ago.

“Kirstie, my daughter.” The ghost spoke. The others stared while the goddess continued. “You are my son even when you are my daughter.”

“Mother Freyja.” Kirstie interrupted before the others could start asking questions. “Father McAndrews.” She pointed.

“No, my heart,” Freyja responded. “My Nameless son knows the laws of the gods. Rule number one is that mortals die, and number two is the gods must not change rule one, even for favorites.” Kirstie dropped her head. She knew Freyja was right.

“But now, listen closely because I do not know how much time I will have to speak,” the goddess continued. “Your soul, Avalon, has been far more plagued than you imagine. It has been hidden from you. That was part of the problem, yet it may also help you in the time to come. The one of fire and water found my secret way between Aesgard and Avalon, but your father found him and drove him back to the golden streets of Aesgard. My love now guards the way. But soon you must go the way of the heart and with my son within, you will not go alone. Send my love to me.”

“Mother.” Kirstie spoke loudly because the goddess started to fade. “Freyja, what do you mean, the way of the heart?” Freyja smiled a smile so warm and loving the people could hardly take it all in. Every heart felt warmed, and everyone there thought for the first time they knew what love was. Something like golden sparkles came from the goddess and settled on Kirstie’s head. Then Freyja looked sad, and everyone gasped to see that love vanish. A small tear fell from the eyes of the goddess before she left. Kirstie reached down to the floor and picked up the teardrop of solid gold.

“What is this?” Kerga burst into the big house.

“He’s gone.” Father Damien spoke of Father McAndrews at almost the same time.

“A shame on our homes and hospitality,” Inga said.

“Wilam, take me home,” Kirstie pleaded, and he did. Kirstie suddenly felt very sad, but she did not cry.

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

MONDAY

The Journey Begins. Kirstie is headed toward Northumbria, and Yasmina is headed out into the desert still looking for a safe place to call home. MONDAY. Happy Reading

*

Medieval 6: K and Y 8 Shame On Us, part 1 of 2

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The week with Wilam went by very fast. Lind and Gruden left for the west toward the villages at the entrance to the fjord on that first day, even as Wilam arrived. That helped Kirstie relax and put her in a good mood all week. She said yes without hesitation when Wilam asked her to marry him. He already won Soren’s heart so there was nothing to stand between them.

Father McAndrews spent most of the week in the big house talking with Chief Kerga, the village elders, the captains, and their officers. He spent one whole day visiting the Witcher Women, and much of that day was spent one on one with Mother Vrya. The two older people found they had much in common not the least being the muscle aches in the morning and the onset of arthritis.

On the sixth day, which was Friday, first thing in the morning, Father McAndrews performed the wedding for Kirstie and Wilam, Father Damien assisting. The whole village turned out. It was a lovely ceremony, and the first that some of the village heard about this faith. Kirstie was wonderfully happy, so naturally, life struck back at her in three ways.

The first was more of an annoyance. Liv came back from Varnes., and she appeared to have turned into a dark-eyed, raven-haired beauty. Hilda and Kirstie almost did not recognize her. Liv turned eighteen and said she came to reclaim her family property. She came as a single woman, but with three thralls in tow; men who looked more like bodyguards than farm workers. Honestly, Kirstie imagined no free man would want to get too close to Liv’s bad attitude. Wilam scolded her for thinking such a thing about her childhood friend. Fortunately, Liv proved Kirstie’s thoughts.

Liv did not come to the wedding, but she came after for the feasting. Even while she hugged Kirstie and said congratulations, she said there was no way she would ever marry. She said her lover would have to be a god. Hilda asked if she had anyone in mind and Liv looked at her like Hilda must have left her brains home that day. Kirstie understood. No one would ever measure up to Liv’s standards. She hoped that was all Liv was saying.

Kirstie and Wilam walked home around two in the afternoon, The feasting would go on well into the night, but Kirstie started feeling nervous. It was not something she ever felt with Kare. She really wanted to make Wilam happy, but after four years of build-up in his mind, she was afraid she would disappoint him.

“Relax,” he said. “I’m in no hurry now that we are married. We have years ahead of us to make everything just the way we like. It doesn’t have to happen in one night.”

Kirstie hugged him and loved him more, and let her worries turn in another direction. Mother Vrya and Chief Kerga, and probably Inga and Brant Svenson all ran interference because Lind and Gruden returned to Strindlos that afternoon. It was one of the reasons Inga suggested she take Wilam home in the early afternoon. In the morning, Lind and Gruden planned to sail off to the north end of the fjord, but for the present, they seemed to be determined to get in the way of her happy day. She mentioned something cryptic to Wilam, but he understood her enough by then to ask who they were and why they mattered.

“They are the king’s men, King Harald Fairhair,” she said. “They came here ten years ago in search of the one who led the people against the invasion of the Vanlil, the Jamts.”

“Elgar, your Saxon,” Wilam said.

Kirstie nodded. “And the young girl that came with him but was never seen at the same time as him. That was me.”

“Why would they want you, him or you?”

Kirstie just nodded and continued. “They came just before you came, looking for the girl that stood in defense of Lindisfarne four years earlier. They heard the story of the giant that stood with the girl. I have no doubt they heard about the giant I had working on my farm, though he has gone home now, but it pointed the finger at me. Of course, it can’t have been the same giant that stood with the woman at Lindisfarne, so it might have been a coincidence, but I am sure they suspect me.”

“A giant?” Wilam asked.

“He was a troll, disguised to look more or less human,” Kirstie said.

Wilam took a deep breath. “A troll. I hope you bear with me. Some of this is going to take some getting used to.”

Kirstie smiled for him. “Don’t worry. I’ll make it easy for you. They will all love you like I do.”

Wilam nodded. “All the spirits, the ones who came to tell me you were standing alone against four hundred terrible Vikings; they all seemed nice. I can only imagine it is terribly hard being responsible for all of them. How many are there, anyway?”

“Far more than I care to count,” Kirstie said. “But the point is, Lind and Gruden have their eyes on me at this point. They have no proof, but I am sure they are looking for witnesses and evidence to pin me to the to the crimes.”

“What crimes?”

“None, except crimes against the Masters.” Kirstie stopped and took Wilam’s hand. She faced him so he understood how important this was. “There are men… and women in history who have repeat lives in the future.”

“Like you?” Wilam interrupted. “That is what Inga told me. She said you lived many times in the past and you will live again in the future, and you can become those people in a time of need. I did not exactly understand, but that is what she said. I did see you disappear, and the beautiful lady came to your place in Normandy. She certainly did some remarkable things.”

“In this life I am not quite so remarkable. I’m just Kirstie, your wife.”

“I guess that woman was who Father McAndrews was talking about when he said something similar aboard the ship. He said you disappeared and the mother goddess of all the Celts came and stood in your place. After she was done, she vanished, and you returned.”

“A fair description,” Kirstie said. “But no, the servants of the Masters are not like me. I have lived and will live more than a hundred times all in a row and without a break in all that time. The servants of the masters have maybe three, or at most five lifetimes strategically placed to interfere with history and the development of the human race. I sometimes believe the Masters must be demons from Hell, so you can imagine what their servants go for; to steal, kill, and destroy.”

“And lie,” Wilam added, and it made Kirstie smile.

“Some of my little ones are expert liars, and it doesn’t seem to matter how much I tell them that is not a good thing.” Kirstie coughed and removed the smile. “Anyway, whatever life I am living, sometimes I am the only one standing in the way of the Masters achieving their goal of ruling over all the humans in this world and, I believe, bringing humanity to destruction.”

“Lind and Gurden?”

“Gruden. Yes. They can only be working for the Masters and looking for the Kairos, which is what the ancient gods called me.” Kirstie lowered her head. It was a lot to take in and it said their life together might not always be a peaceful one, but then in her day and age, especially among the Vikings, no life was necessarily peaceful.

Wilam put on his serious face. “And I thought hunting down hags was going to be dangerous enough.”

“Hopefully, there will not be any more hags. Abraxas, the would-be-god that created them has been banished from the earth.” He looked curious, so she explained. “He is wandering around the second heavens thinking about giving up his flesh and blood and going over to the other side, that is dying, which he should have done nine hundred years ago.”

“In the time of the Christ?”

“Yes. When the Master of the Masters was overcome, the Lord of this world was defeated. That was when the ancient gods went over to the other side.”

“But not all.”

“Nearly all. But let me add, the one thing the Maters are most against is the spread of the faith in Christ. It is the one real thing that stands in the way of the Masters evil vision for humanity.”

“I…” Wilam paused and nodded slowly. “I think I understand. So, Lind and Gruden…”

“I would rather have them waste their time looking for me than scheming to start a war or assassinate some ruler or some such thing.”

“So, maybe we need to make it more difficult to find you.” he said, and this time she felt curious. “We haven’t talked about where we will live.”

“This is my home,” Kirstie said defensively.

“And a fine home it will be, but while Lind and Gruden are poking around, maybe I can convince you to come and meet my family.”

“Your mother?” Kirstie asked. He nodded, and she hoped he did not see her trepidation at that prospect. She still held his hand, so she took him inside her house.

The house was full of people, and they all yelled, “Surprise.”

Medieval 6: K and Y 7 Unexpected Guests, part 2 of 2

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Kirstie

Wilam was the navigator of his ship, answerable only to the affable Olaf, his Captain. His crewmates were mostly second and third generation Danes in the Danelaw, but like most Vikings, they were traders and explorers. Despite the bad press, even the hardcore Vikings only fought when they had to, though they also conquered when the land was good, and the opportunity presented itself. The Volga River fell into Viking hands all the way to Riga, and Normandy became a slice taken out of the Frankish coast, though hardly a safe place to be.

“Never fear, Kirstie.” Brant Svenson, Captain Olaf’s Skipari—his first officer got her attention. “We won’t keep him busy for long.” Kirstie smiled. Svenson was a good man. Kirstie appreciated him thinking of her.

“And Inga is with Soren at the moment,” Kirstie said, mentioning his weakness.

“Yes, it has been a while since I’ve seen that son of yours.” He smiled because they both knew what he meant.

“Come,” Wilam said, suddenly backing up and taking Kirstie’s hand. “There is someone who has come a long way to see you.” He pulled her to the ship where an old man started to climb slowly to the docks.

“I say, Wilam. The dock seems to be moving more than the ship.” The man muttered. Kirstie saw his face.

“Father McAndrews,” she said quietly. She curtsied ever so slightly and crossed herself for good measure.

“What? No, it can’t be.” The priest said. “But you were dressed as the warrior of the Lord the last time I saw you. You are dressed like a woman now and a wife?”

“I am, and mother,” she said, and he surprised her by giving her a hug. “But why have you left Lindisfarne?” she asked. “There is no trouble, I hope. Why are you here?”

“Relax.” He smiled. “All is well at home, and I have come to tell your people about the Christ, as you invited me to do so many years ago.”

Kirstie swallowed. The phrase loose lips sink ships came to mind. “Very courageous of you, but I’m afraid you will find hard going in this part of the world.”

“Courageous? Not nearly as courageous as a little girl alone standing down an entire army of greedy, hungry heathen determined to sack and pillage the monastery.”

“I had men that came over to my side. I was hardly alone, and the heathen were hardly more than a mob,” she said.

“That is not how the bards tell it.” He smiled. “But as for hard going, I am sixty-four years old, and have lived a good, long time. I will be content if I can teach patience to young Father Damien.” He turned his head and looked as Father Damien dropped and kicked a bundle of clothes, and all but cursed besides. His arms were full. He clearly tried to take too much at once.

“I heard that.” The young man looked at them.

“You were supposed to hear.” Father McAndrews said, kindly. Wilam took that moment to jump aboard ship. The crew started to get impatient and wanted to come ashore, but of course, they could not come until the captain gave his permission. “Now, tell me.” Father McAndrews lowered his voice. “How is Yrsa, your maid as you call her, and her husband? I remember she is married. And dare I ask, how is Gentle Annie, the angel you became? Is she all right and still watching over you?”

Kirstie was about to say Yrsa is fine, but she was not sure about herself because of the way she felt, that something was terribly wrong on Avalon; but she did not get to talk. Mother Vrya pushed up in front and spoke first.

“That is the one thing you must not speak of.” She paused to call Wilam. “Come here.”

“Yes, Mother.” Wilam said, and not one of the men snickered. The Volva deserved the respect she got.

“But that was so long ago.” The priest said. Mother Vrya tapped the cane she walked with on his toes to get his attention.

“Listen,” she said, and the Priest listened while Wilam joined them again. It occurred to Kirstie that this was the whole reason Mother Vrya was present. Her intuition must have been plaguing her all morning. “There are two men here looking for Kirstie, whom they call the Kairos. We in Strindlos will not betray her. The men intend only evil. Do you know what I mean by evil?” she asked the good Father.

“Indeed,” he responded. He listened intently now.

“Talk of Elgar and the others is strictly forbidden until they leave, and if they ask, you will lie, you know nothing, do you understand?”

“I do not lie.” Father McAndrews looked straight into Mother Vrya’s eyes so she could see for herself that even then he told the truth. “But I know how to keep a sacred trust. Father Damien.” He turned to get his young companion’s attention but kept his voice low. “All talk about the woman in question and her… companions we spoke of on the voyage is henceforth confidential. Keep it as a confession.”

The young man stopped and looked. He clearly had questions but nodded. “As a confession,” he said.

“That means he will suffer torture and death before discussing it. Will that do?” Father McAndrews got blunt. Mother Vrya looked again in the old man’s eyes; a man even older than herself.

“Yes,” she said. “I see you understand many things.”

“Not nearly enough.” The priest admitted.

“Nor I.” Mother Vrya confessed before turning to Wilam. “You play stupid,” she said. “And tell your crew if they loose their tongues, they will lose them, and if the girl is harmed because of their loose tongue, they will lose their manhood as well.” It was as brutal a warning as Kirstie ever heard uttered, and the fact that it came out of sweet, nurturing, little old Mother Vrya shocked her a little. She turned her head to look for the two men in question. The big one was Gruden, or some name like that, and the little one was Lind or something. She remembered better seeing them before. She should remember them now since the days of Yasmina. Kirstie barely had time to find them in the oncoming crowd when Mother Vrya grabbed her by the elbow and made her walk.

“It is not safe for you to be near those men. They can sense things. I can tell.” Mother Vrya spoke quietly and calmly like the spring day it was.

“Captain Olaf.” Kirstie blurted out. They missed him passing by them on the dock. “What if he says something?”

“I caught him before he reached the others,” Mother Vrya said. And they got silent as they came within earshot of the crowd. Captain Olaf and the Village chief, Kerga led the pack.

“I’m dropping them. They are yours, like it or not. They paid for no return passage.” Olaf said in his fat, old voice.

“So?” Kerga did not understand.

Olaf guffawed. “Now you’ll have to put up with their prattle.”

“What do they prattle about?” Kerga guessed.

“They are Christian monks who speak about the one, true god. That is not a bad thing, but they could take a breath. There are other things in this world worth talking about.” Olaf said, and Vrya and Kirstie walked on.

“Tell me of this one,” Mother Vrya said as soon as it was safe.

Kirstie knew who she was talking about. “One of the ones from Lindisfarne that I spoke of years ago. A Christian priest and a young priest with him that I do not know.” Kirstie grabbed Mother Vrya’s hand and exacted a sudden role reversal, speaking as if she was the mother and Vrya was the child. “You must listen to these men and learn. What they say is utterly true and it will save us all in the end. There is no other way.” Her words were not very clear, but Mother Vrya accepted what she said, and even accepted the role reversal.

“I will listen,” she said. “I will learn, though it would have been better to hear this truth from a woman.”

Kirstie smiled before she rolled her eyes. “Not in this lifetime.” She snickered and Mother Vrya understood very well.

“Some other day, perhaps,” she said.

“Someday,” Kirstie said. “But for us, we must make the best of it and accept the tools the greatness of life sends us.”

“And if Life has chosen men to speak to us, we will listen,” Mother Vrya concluded.

Medieval 6: K and Y 7 Unexpected Guests, part 1 of 2

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Kirstie

The next three days were spent keeping Soren covered, wiping his sweaty brow, and feeding him soup. Inga came by every day for a visit and Mother Vrya also came on that first evening and brought all the medicine the Witcher Women had gleaned from nature over the centuries. Nothing much helped. Kirstie guessed Soren had a flu bug of some kind, and it would pass; but then again, such diseases could be serious, especially in the days before antibiotics and antivirals. She grew very concerned the evening his fever shot up and he complained that his ear hurt him.

It got late, and she had very little sleep. In her mind, she reached out into the future to Doctor Mishka, seeking advice and solace against Soren’s suffering.

“I could take a look.” Mishka’s voice spoke clearly in Kirstie’s mind. Kirstie decided that would be good. She had done this before, and she knew Mishka could do much more with her own eyes and hands than she could do by looking through Kirstie’s eyes. Kirstie settled herself. She traded places through time. She became Mishka, or rather Doctor Mishka came to take her place while Kirstie went to the place of waiting where she would stay for however long Mishka stayed in her time. “This won’t take long.” Mishka told her.

Mishka bent over Soren and did her best to look in his ear and throat. She called for the bag she kept at Avalon since ancient times, but it did not come. “I would have liked to give him some pain killer at least,” she said, and sneezed.

“I don’t know what the trouble is.” Kirstie spoke into the doctor’s mind.

“Something,” Mishka said and rubbed her watery eyes. “But it may only be that I have a bit of a virus right now, myself.” That did not sound right. Generally, when the Traveler traded places with one of her other lives, that life arrived in the prime of health and condition. Mishka looked once more at Soren. She suggested a certain bark and herb combination and instructed Kirstie in the method of distilling the product down to drops which should relieve some of the pain and pressure in Soren’s ear.

“That’s about all I can do without my bag,” Mishka said. “For the most part, the medicinal herbs of your Witcher Women are about as good as anything against a virus.” She sneezed again.

“Is this because he fell in the water?” Kirstie asked.

Mishka shook her head. “Triggered, maybe, but the virus must have already been in his system.” Mishka put a hand to her own head, and though she knew full well that she could not tell, she felt sure she had a fever of her own. Mishka traded places and Kirstie returned.

“Thank you, Doctor,” Kirstie said out loud as she set about making the ear drops. “Mishka should not have been sick,” she said to herself. “And the things I keep safe at Avalon should come to me when I call,” she added. Well, whatever the trouble was, it was a mystery that would have to wait. After Kirstie applied the drops, Soren seemed to fall into a more restful sleep. She curled up beside her boy to keep him warm. She quickly fell asleep herself and only woke in the morning when Inga touched her shoulder.

“Wake up, sleepy,” she said.

Kirstie sat up and rubbed her eyes. Normally, no one could sneak up on her like that, but her throat was dry and her eyes crusty. She wondered if perhaps she was catching Soren’s flu. That must be it, she decided. “Morning?”

“And a sail in the bay,” Inga added with a smile.

“Wilam?” Kirstie asked without a pause.

Inga nodded as Kirstie jumped out of bed and ran to the brass mirror. She looked frightful, and the brush could do little with her hair. She had not slept much in the last three days and now she needed some work to pull herself together. Inga looked first at Soren, sleeping peacefully, and then she helped brush some of the knots out of Kirstie’s hair.

“Go on,” Inga said at last. “Or he will be at the dock before you.” Kirstie looked again at her son, but Inga turned her toward the door. “I am sure Yrsa will come by in a little bit. Meanwhile, I think I can watch a sleeping boy just fine.”

Kirstie decided Inga was right. “Thank you,” she said, and she ran, before she walked. She did not want to appear too anxious.

Mother Vrya stood there on the dock, waiting patiently. Kirstie stopped beside the old woman. It would have been unseemly to run out ahead of her like a wild child. “Good morning,” Kirstie said, softly.

“See.” Mother Vrya said, pointing with her walking stick in the direction of the big house. The men were just coming, and there were strangers among them. It was only then that Kirstie noticed another, smaller ship had already docked. It flew the king’s flag and she looked at Mother Vrya with real curiosity on her face.

“You may recall, the one with the red hair is Lind,” the old woman said. “You may remember him from your youth. He is as smooth a talker as I have ever heard. And the dark-haired giant who trails in his steps is Gruden in case you have forgotten. He is as strong a right arm as you will find and clearly one who has killed men. They came here years ago looking for Elgar the Saxon.”

“I remember. Why are they here now?” Kirstie asked. They were the men who came after the trouble with the Vanlil.

Mother Vrya shrugged. “They are still looking for certain people,” she said. “The king heard about Lindisfarne, and he wants to know who was involved. They came here to begin the search starting here in Strindlos.”

“But that was four years ago.” Kirstie said. “Who can they be looking for?” She had a feeling that she knew who they were after, and it scared her a little. “They can’t still be looking for me.”

“How well I remember when the hag drove the Vanlil to invade our land,” Mother Vrya said. “That was more than ten years ago. You were a mere girl of ten. Your parents were slain along with many others in the attempt to defend our homes. I, myself, was crippled in that day. But then, Elgar the Saxon came to our aid, with Mother Greta of Dacia, the Doctor Mishka from the land of the Volga, and from whom I learned a great deal, and the others. These are whom they still seek, no matter what they say.” Mother Vrya concluded.

Those people were all Kirstie from other times and places, other lives she had lived or would live in the future. It felt right that she should ask. “But why would they be seeking them, especially after all these years?”

Mother Vrya shrugged again. “Who knows?” she said, flatly. “But do not be afraid, dear. No one will betray you.”

Kirstie looked again as the men came close. She did not share Mother Vrya’s confidence. Some in Strindlos would betray their own mothers if the price was right. She tried not to think about it. The ship from Northumbria started tying up, and Wilam had already jumped to the dock. He came quickly, as anxious as Kirstie, but Kirstie waited until Mother Vrya touched her hand in a kind of sign of permission, and then she met Wilam halfway. Her arms wrapped around him, and her head turned to lie against his chest. Wilam wrapped her up in his strength, and it was exactly what she needed. A tear fell from her eyes, but Wilam did not see.

They kissed.

“I missed you,” he said. Kirstie sensed his joy in the moment, and she knew he was terribly understating his feelings.

“I love you, too.” Kirstie spoke for both of them. “And right now, I need you.” She needed his arms, his care, his love, and she was reluctant to let him go, but the men were arriving. Wilam needed to renew other friendships.

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

MONDAY

Kirstie is surprised by unexpected guests, but the people disappoint her. The guests are not treated well. Until Monday, Happy Reading

*

Medieval 6: K and Y 6 Sickness and the Cure, part 2 of 2

M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Yasmina

They entered and found boxes, work benches, and other things to hide behind near the door. Aisha went to the right and Yasmina went left but listened first. Al-Hakim was explaining about the rifles and their firepower. They had the Alexandrians as prisoners there. Three were bound and blindfolded but dressed in solid armor. They stood against the wall and three men stood facing them with rifles ready to fire. Yasmina recognized Abdallah. The other two looked familiar but she could not quite place them.

“Fire,” al-Hakim said, and all three armored Alexandrians against the wall collapsed. The bullets punched right through the armor.

Yasmina saw al-Din among the few remaining Alexandrian prisoners, and she could not stop her voice. “Al-Din,” she called, and everyone turned to look in her direction. “That was not smart,” she mumbled to herself and let her arrow fly. It was a lucky shot, or an unlucky shot. Abdallah grabbed at it as it pierced his chest and sank deep into his heart. He fell over, dead.

“No!” Al-Hakim became enraged. He could not see straight. He did not think. He rushed at Yasmina, probably not really seeing her. He pulled his sword. She grabbed Ziri’s spear and just pointed it, and al-Hakim ran onto it. “Sister?” He recognized her at the last as his life left him along with his blood. Then everything broke loose.

Yasmina looked up. Al-Rahim killed Captain Hasan and crouched behind a box firing his arrows. Ziri fired from her left and Gwafa from her right. It took a second to find Aisha. She snuck forward and used her knife effectively to cut the bonds of the remaining Alexandrians.

The Berber guards lost a number of men right at the beginning, dead and wounded, but now they crouched behind their own benches and boxes not far away. They only had a couple of bows to return fire, but they still had the numbers. Yasmina feared a concerted charge on their part would finish her people. She thought to hurry around to get at the Berbers on their flank. When she came out from behind her bench, she came face to face with a man and his knife.

She recognized the man. “Lind.” She whipped out her scimitar as he hesitated, just as surprised as her, and doubly surprised at hearing that name. The scimitar sliced the man across the throat, nearly cutting his head off. Yasmina said, “one of two” as she tried not to wretch, but then, it was not her standing there. She did not do the deed. It was Kirstie who took her place. It was also Kirstie that recognized Lind and came to finish the job.

Kirstie set the scimitar, an unfamiliar weapon beside Ziri’s hand. She pulled her battleaxe and shield, which apparently showed up the same time she did. She moved, knowing full well who the other two members of the firing squad were. Lind was one servant of the Masters, but there was another.

“Gruden,” she called as she pushed into the work area and away from the Berbers, contrary to what Yasmina had in mind. “Gruden,” she said when she found him. He got his hands on a sword, but he had no shield. Still, he grinned at her as Kirstie growled at him. Curiously, she understood her own end of days since at that point in history, the event occurred in the past. She knew when she went back to her own days, she would not remember anything about it, but presently, it seemed a very vivid memory. She had to say something. “This time, my ribs are not busted, and my arm is not broken.”

He came at her anyway with a powerful blow, but her shield was up for it. She came back with a swing at his head, and he only had his sword to fend off the blow. This time, she learned from Captain Ulf and did not give Gruden time to breathe. He stepped back as she came at him, blow after blow. He kept stepping back, until she caught the flat of his sword and busted it in half. Gruden would have run, but Kirstie axe sliced him in the middle. It ended with her axe in the man’s head, and Kirstie wondered how many times she had to kill the same man.

Yasmina returned. The battleaxe and shield disappeared, and her scimitar was back in its sheath, miraculously cleaned of Lind’s blood. She hurried back to the others, afraid, because she no longer heard any fighting. She saw Creeper the imp standing there, minding his own business, picking something from his overly large and sharp teeth.

Al-Din and the Alexandrians, with Gwafa, Ziri, and al-Rahim all stood in a tight group against the wall with Aisha in front, her arms outstretched to protect them and ward off any imp, troll, or sand monster that came their way.

“What do you want us to do with the Caliph?” Creeper asked, nonchalantly. Apparently, beyond her own people and the Alexandrian survivors, al-Mahdi was the only one still alive. He had an arrow in his chest, or upper belly that looked bad. No telling if he would live. Probably not. Yasmina closed her eyes for the moment. She did not want to see all the torn and shredded bodies.

“He needs a horse,” al-Rahim said as he dared to step free of the group that cowered behind Aisha.

“Send him back to the palace where he will either live or die,” Yasmina agreed and opened her eyes again. “We have to find whatever black powder they were making and pile it in several places around the building. Then we need to set it off and get out of here.”

“The black powder is in a back room encased in concrete,” Aisha said. Al-Din followed her and questioned the word, concrete.

“A Roman invention from centuries ago,” Yasmina explained. “It is very hard and would mostly contain the explosion if there was an accident in the powder room.” That did not really explain it, except that it was a hard Roman invention of some sort.

“Creeper,” Yasmina called. “I need some of your people to take the guns and some of this equipment to Avalon,” she said. Al-Rahim presently had a rifle in his hand, and he was trying to figure out how it worked. “No, no.” Yasmina told him, took the rifle, and handed it to a waiting little one. “There are not supposed to be guns for another three or four hundred years.”

“How do you know…?” Al-Rahim bowed. “Princess. I saw Kirstie, you know. I’m sorry I did not get the chance to meet her.”

Yasmina frowned. “She is not happy. She had to kill two men.”

“And you. Are you all right.”

Yasmina nodded and looked down at her shoes before she spoke between some tears. “It was an accident. When I shot Abdallah, I was aiming at a different man, a soldier. When I picked up Ali’s spear, I thought he would stop and back up, but he ran onto the spear. I could not help it.” She began to cry softly, and al-Rahim hugged her.

It took a couple of hours to clean out the place and set the charges to destroy all the gun making equipment that could not be moved. Aisha said they were taking too long. “Al-Mahdi made it back to the palace and the Berbers are gathering. They should be here soon.”

Al-Rahim raised his eyebrows before Yasmina explained. “A couple of imps followed the Caliph and are spying on events there. Aisha is able to get some information from them. Long distance, I know. Don’t ask how. Just trust that it is so.”

Creeper came up at that moment with the same word. “We have to go.”

Yasmina nodded. Al-Din and his three Alexandrians picked out the best horses from the dead troop of Berbers. Ziri and Gwafa were already mounted. Aisha held Yasmina’s horse with her own, and al-Rahim mounted, wholly trusting by then that Yasmina knew what she was doing. Yasmina nodded and lit the fuse, then they rode as fast as they could away from that place and away from Mahdiya.

Aisha saw the Berbers riding to the factory, but she knew Creeper and his people would stop them or at least stop their horses from following. She saw that the Berbers stopped all on their own when the factory went up in several massive explosions. Then she joined the others in a grove of date palms and could see no more as they vanished into the desert. They got away, but Yasmina sneezed and wondered if she was coming down with a cold.

Medieval 6: K and Y 6 Sickness and the Cure, part 1 of 2

M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Kirstie

Kirstie found Soren in the water off the edge of the rocks where she told him not to play. Kirstie jumped into the half frozen, early spring water in a flash. She hauled the boy to the shore and stripped. She wrung out her dress and threw it around him as fast as she could to keep him warm, thinking that if she got too cold in the air she could always return to the water for a time. The water never felt cold to her. On the coldest winter days, the kind that chilled to the bone and even the blazing fire could not thaw, she had been known to walk to the end of the dock and throw herself into the icy water. After ten minutes or so underwater, she always came out warmed and refreshed. It occurred to Kirstie that maybe she was a sort of Viking mutant. She didn’t know.

Kirstie rubbed Soren’s back while Inga rubbed his arms and legs, but Soren kept looking over his shoulder until Kirstie finally looked with her own eyes. A bear stood about twenty feet away, down by the water’s edge, evidently hungry.

“Most bears will leave you alone if you leave them alone,” she told Soren. All the same, she got him up and they headed back to the skiff.

“But he ran at me and frightened me, and I slipped,” Soren explained.

“If he wanted you, he would have dived in after you.” Inga told him. “Bears are good swimmers, like your mother.”

“Stupid, freezing mother.” Kirstie said. She had forgotten that she had clothes on call, and her armor, of course. All was kept safe on Avalon for whatever need she might have according to whatever life she was living. “Foolish me,” Kirstie said. She reached out with her heart and called to the dress she wanted which was made by the fee of the glen. Nothing happened.

“What was that call?” Inga asked. Kirstie didn’t answer. She just stomped her foot in annoyance. She called to another dress, and boots besides. The dress should have simply appeared, fitted to her form, and the boots on her feet, but again nothing happened. She became angry. She pictured her armor and herself wearing it, with her battleaxe at her back, her long knife across the small of her back and her cloak around her. She demanded it, and it came, but after a moment’s hesitation. Kirstie felt stymied. The outfit had been made for the Traveler by the ancient Greco-Roman Gods. Its’ appearance should have been instantaneous and automatic. Something felt wrong.

Unfortunately, she did not have time to worry at the moment. She had her soggy dress off Soren and had him stripped down so she could wrap him in her dry cloak. She carried him to the skiff while he sneezed once. It took them about an hour to row back home against the wind, and by the time they arrived, Kirstie felt sure Soren had a fever.

Yasmina

Yasmina and Aisha wore their riding clothes. Al-Rahim had hers and Aisha’s horses ready and waiting in the gate. Hasan, captain of the harem guard in Mahdiya and al-Rahim would ride out front. Yasmina and Aisha would follow, and a half-dozen guards would ride behind them. The people in the streets just had to get out of the way. They came at the back of the column of soldiers that followed al-Mahdi and al-Hakim, so they got all the dust. Yasmina was grateful for her veil on that ride.

Al-Qa’im wanted to encourage his son but opted to stay in the palace with his wife. He did not feel well, or so he said. Yasmina knew that Creeper the imp and a few of his select friends had a talk with al-Qa’im. The heir apparent had begun to make noises about wanting a grandson, and if Yasmina could not produce a child, they would find someone who could. Camela, the imp disguised as an old lady in the palace got her husband to scare the man half to death. No wonder he did not feel well.

They headed toward the factory which was outside of town in a secluded area. There was something al-Hakim wanted to show the Caliph. He called it a demonstration but did not explain what he was demonstrating. Yasmina badgered the poor boy until he allowed her to tag along. She was just glad to finally find out what was going on in that secret factory. Only one thing surprised her. She found her saddle bags packed with some of her personal items, like her hairbrush and things. When she asked Aisha about it, Aisha told her al-Rahim imagined one of those hags she told him about, or anyway, something that was not good, and we might need to make a quick getaway.

“I thought that, once,” Yasmina admitted. “But al-Hakim is such a nice guy. I can’t imagine it.” When they arrived and dismounted, Yasmina heard a distinctive cracking sound in the distance. She figured it out in seconds and hardly needed Doctor Mishka to tell her what made that sound. “Shit,” she said, plenty loud but fortunately in English so only her elf maid caught it.

“Al-Rahim,” Yasmina got his attention as al-Mahdi and the men with him went inside the building. “How many of your men can we trust?”

“Possibly all. I personally picked them. That depends on the assignment.”

Yasmina called to her armor and got out her bow and arrows. Aisha followed her lead. “I am probably going to have to kill some people, probably including al-Hakim, and blow up the building and everything in it.”

“Ziri and Gwafa, follow,” al-Rahim decided. “The rest of you stay here and guard the horses.”

Captain Hasan stepped up to ask, “What?” He took a second look at Yasmina in her armor.

“There is trouble inside. Expect a fight.” Ziri and Gwafa drew their weapons and shields, then grabbed bows and arrows like the women.

“What trouble? Fight who?” Hasan asked.

Yasmina interrupted and turned to the four guards for the horses. “You four men need to ride back to the palace in all haste in case the enemy goes there. Do your duty and guard the women. Hurry, hurry.” They mounted slowly, eyeing Hasan and al-Rahim. Al-Rahim waved them off and they started out, but they did not hurry.

“What are you talking about?” Hasan insisted on an answer.

“Hush,” Yasmina said. “You talk loud enough, and the enemy will hear us coming.”

“Quiet,” al Rahim said, and Hasan quieted for the moment. They stepped to the door where Yasmina stopped them. She touched Ziri and herself and waved to the left. She pointed to Aisha and Gwafa and waved to the right. To al-Rahim and Hasan she said quietly, “Guard the door.”