Kirstie
“Though enough of these men are young and untried,” she told the king. “Don’t expect too much from some of them.”
“As long as they hold the line and push forward when the time comes.”
Kirstie understood but thought to add one thing. “If we are successful and the men go home enriched, all will be well. but if we are unsuccessful, don’t expect the Trondelag to come up with so many men again.”
“That is the way with battles and wars,” the king answered.
“Just so we understand, I cannot do the impossible.”
“You have not disappointed me so far.” the king smiled, and Kirstie turned to a map spread out on the table.
“So, what are we looking at? Where are the Danes and how many?”
“They are everywhere and more than I care to count.”
The king was moderately successful that year. The Danes were pushed off the Oslo Fjord, but they did not go far away. They would push in again and Fairhair would drive them back again. That area would not get resolved for at least three hundred years.
Somehow, between the fighting years, Kirstie managed another baby, a girl she called Heidi. She said she named her baby after the Valkyrie who started it all, or maybe the nice, peaceful girl on the mountain who live with her grandfather. They also squeezed in another summer trip to Northumberland.
Kirstie went three times to fight for the king. She brought six hundred and thirty on the second trip, and this time the Swedes joined with them against the Danes. They seriously pushed the Danes back that year. The third time, seven hundred and three followed her, only this time they fought the Swedes, or at least the Geats. It got tiresome, but as long as the men were successful enough to bring home some coins and some pillaged goods, there were some that would be willing.
Kirstie turned thirty on that third trip, and the king kept them fighting, until Kirstie got word there was trouble at home. Fortunately, Sigurd was of age. He fought with them the last time along with his friend Haakon, the king’s son. They said they learned a lot from Kirstie, and the king was pleased. On this third time, Kirstie told Sigurd she had to go but it was time for him to fly. Haakon flapped his arms like a bird and laughed, but they understood.
Kirstie and Wilam got a ride home with Captain Frode. The man got his own ship, and was teaching his son, Knud, the ways of the sea. He had long since moved to Nidaross and parted on the most friendly terms with Captain Rune Stenson, who himself moved to the town at the mouth of the Nid River. Strindlos was becoming a ghost town where only the determined few were hanging on.
Chief Kerga still oversaw the village. Many of the village elders remained, though for the most part their good land was up by the Varnes River, and they mostly counted themselves as men of Varnes. The Volva, Mother Vrya, and the Witcher Women held on, though Mother Vrya could hardly hobble down the road and appeared older than dirt. That meant Inga stayed in the town, if only to take care of old Mother Vrya. For all practical purposes, Inga had become the Volva for the community, for Nidaross, and to some extent, for the whole Fjord, not the least because of her close association to Kirstie.
Kirstie bought several more farms as people moved out. She set her childhood friend up in a farm across the road from the place of the Witcher Women. It had much better land for growing crops and keeping the cows and some sheep. Thoren and Hilda were grateful. Of course, Hilda had her own crew of children by then and needed the better land. The fact that it put Hodur just down the road from his best friend Soren was a plus. For Kirstie, she became something like a noblewoman. She was land rich and cash poor.
For better or worse, Kirstie became something of a ruler, in the loosest sense of the word, for the whole of the Trondelag. She certainly became one of the main leaders for several reasons. Men learned what a hag was during the Vanlil invasion, a terrible hairy monster that could shred a man better than a bear. Kirstie was the hag hunter, and a successful one. Some men were afraid of her. Then, she killed Captain Ulf at Lindisfarne. Lots of men looked to Ulf or followed him on raids. When she slew the man, she took over that group leadership, or at least they dared not cross her. Then, it was not exactly a secret, though men only talked about it in whispers, but Kirstie had some unaccountable power over the things of legend. The dwarfs and elves, light and dark, seemed to do what she wanted. She had an actual giant working on her farm for a time. She was a fire starter and had a deep connection to water and the sea. The sea, and even the storms bent to her will. She could call the fish to surrender themselves to her boat and to the fire in her fingertips. Such magic had not been seen in the Norse lands in ages, if ever. Needless to say, when she talked, the men listened. Of course, it was not something she especially wanted, but it was thrust upon her, as the man once said. Her husband being the son of Halfdan Ragnarsson did not hurt.
When Kirstie returned home and cleaned up the mess that was made, she feared being discovered at last. The king’s captain, Engle Bronson was involved, and though he died, he finally had the proof that Kirstie was indeed the Kairos, and no doubt passed that word on to Bieger. Bronson was a servant of the Masters as was his skipari, Bieger, and so were the king’s assassins, Lind, and Gruden, who would no doubt come after her. Kirstie did not want to sound paranoid, but those four had been searching for her, the Kairos-her, for the past twenty years. The thing is, they could never prove it or be sure. She seemed such a good little Viking. Now they knew. Her days in Strindlos, indeed in Scandinavia were numbered.
“So, we move to Northumberland,” Wilam said. The grandparents, my parents won’t be around much longer. My brothers, Ecgberht and Godric are more than capable of running the farm. They basically do that already, but I can help. I have learned being here that I am something of a farmer after all.”
“I am sorry about that,” Kirstie said, and rubbed her nose. “You wanted to be a navigator on a ship and have adventures, and I made you pick up a plow and a hoe.”
Wilam laughed. “I can’t imagine a more adventurous life than following you around. Besides, I got what I wanted.” He kissed her forehead and she smiled and pulled closer to him.
“You get to go again,” she said, without explaining. She sneezed. She pulled back and sneezed again.
“Are you all right?” Wilam asked.
Kirstie nodded. “I may be coming down with a cold,” she said.
“Maybe we should go to bed so you can rest,” he suggested.
“What? You got me all interested with you got what you wanted and then you just want to go sleep?” She sneezed again and found a cloth to blow her nose.
“Come on,” he said, and put her to bed.
Storyteller Tales & Thoughts 