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

November 5, 2024September 29, 2024M 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

November 4, 2024September 29, 2024M G Kizzia Leave a comment

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 8 Shame On Us, part 1 of 2

October 8, 2024August 11, 2024M G Kizzia Leave a comment

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 1 of 2

October 2, 2024August 11, 2024M G Kizzia Leave a comment

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 3 Helpful Decisions, part 1 of 2

September 11, 2024August 10, 2024M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Inga, and the disguised elf Lonn led the group of thralls and possible tenant farmers. “I acted as the go-between, if you don’t mind,” Inga said, as she came to stand on one side of Kirstie. Yrsa and Alm stood on her other side. Lonn started with the introductions.

The first couple, an older couple had a sixteen-year-old boy who did not appear to be the shiniest apple in the bin. “They are from Sula, an inland village that was attacked by the Jamts in that year. They have not had good fortune in that place and thought the new village on the Nid River might give them a fresh start. My thinking was they would do well on the far property next to the long field. The woman can keep the garden, the men can plant the small fields on that property, and the boy can keep the sheep where most of that land is better suited to pasturage.”

The second couple was a young couple with a two-year-old baby girl. “They are from Lundar on the Gaul River, again an inland village where the men feel no need to go to sea or go to war. Their story is simpler. They are the younger ones in big families. There is only so much arable land in that place, and though the dowry is small, they hoped to find a place of their own in the new town. I believe they will do well here on the near property where the land is better for crops. They might keep a few cows for the milk if they choose to have a big family of their own.”

The young mother stepped up. “Oh, Lady. I have seen the home. It is like a dream come true.”

Kirstie looked serious and spoke without any sense of jesting. “My husband is captain of a longship and a hard man given to talk down on those he considers beneath him. As long as you don’t rile him, you should be fine.” she let that thought sit for a minute in case one or both couples decided to back out. Lord Amber took the silence to step in.

“I have drawn up contracts. Since you own the properties, not your husband, the tenants will be responsible to you alone. The agreement explains how after so many years of good service the land can become their property. Meanwhile, they have full use of the land and house as long as they remain tenants in good standing. Trust me.” He said that last to Kirstie since he knew she had not read the agreements. She signed everything. When the couples made their mark, because they were unable to read or write, Kirstie, much to her surprise, received five silver pieces from each, and they smiled about it.

“Oh Lady. I just know working for you will be wonderful. You need not worry. We will work hard and do a good job. You’ll see.”

“Your name?” Kirstie asked because the introductions went by too fast.

“Tove,” the girl said.

“Tove,” Kirstie said the name. “And Helga.” She pointed to the older woman in the first couple, who nodded. “It is my intention to stay home for many years to come, but you should know, I am a shield maiden and a navigator. The time may come when I may have to go to sea maybe for months, or even a year or longer. In that case, Inga, our Volva will watch over the properties, and Yrsa here will run the farm and the properties. Or if Yrsa chooses to sail with me, Alm will be your boss. Under no circumstances will you work for my husband.”

“And your children?” Tove asked.

“I have only a son, but if it is children, they will stay with my friend Hilda while I am away.”

“Oh,” Tove looked disappointed and her husband, which Kirstie thought was Sven, spoke on her behalf.

“My wife loves children. She wants to have another right away.”

Kirstie, having just survived childbirth, thought presently that one was enough. “And these last two?” Kirstie said to change the subject.

“Gustavs and Thomas,” Lonn said. “Gustavs is the elder. He is from Latvia in the east. Thomas’ heritage is from Strathclyde in the west, but he has been a thrall since birth. Gustavs worked a farm in the north where the old owner died, and the son got killed in the attack on Howick. The old woman could not afford to keep him. Thomas was second generation in service to a family that fell afoul to the king. They had to sell some thralls to meet the king’s demands. I will also say, the woman of the house was sorry to see Thomas go. He was a good and faithful worker.

“I will do a good job for you,” Thomas said.

Kirstie acknowledged his pledge but turned to Gustavs. “I was there. I told Ulf and Odger to leave Howick alone, but they were stubborn.”

Gustavs nodded, having already heard that she was a shield maiden, before his eyes got suddenly big. “You were the woman who stood alone and faced down eight ships of men before the abbey of Lindisfarne. I heard the story.”

“And you disapprove?”

“The opposite. I am third generation Christian.”

Kirstie pulled out her little wooden cross and turned back to Lord Amber. He answered her before she could ask the question. “I took a small portion of your money from the hollow of the tree. I knew it was your desire to run the farm yourself and not depend on your friends, so I had people look for suitable help as they looked for suitable tenants.”

“Thank you,” she said, and pointed to Fiona’s house. “You may wish to fix it up a bit and rearrange things a bit, but that will be your quarters.”

“Just so you know,” Lord Amber continued. “These men are yours and work for you. They are like this farm, your property. Your husband has no claim on them, and he should not have been allowed to sell Fiona and the boys. They were not his to sell without your permission. You see, he waited until you were ready to go into labor to make the sale and took all the money to pay for his ship. You could force a claim on his ship if you have a mind to do so.”

Kirstie would have to think about that. “For now, let us begin on a good note. Welcome to all of you. May your days here be filled with joy and happiness. Now, I am tired, and my son needs to nurse.” She stood and went into the house hoping that everything would work out well.

~~~*~~~

By the time Kare came back from his maiden voyage, all three properties were being well run and productive. Kare began to count up what he could gather for trade goods, but Kirstie shot down that idea first thing. “These are not your properties. These are not your tenants and not your thralls. And you owe me thirty pieces of silver for Fiona and the boys.”

“I didn’t get that much,” Kare protested.

“You owe me thirty pieces of silver,” Kirstie repeated.

Kare looked at his son but did not touch him. He looked at Kirstie and she saw the look in his eyes. He wanted to hit her, but he thought better of it. He bellowed, “You are my wife.”

“I am not your thrall.”

Kare thundered and threw a chair across the room, breaking one leg against the wall, and he stomped out and stayed away for a week.

When he came home, Kirstie softened a little and honestly still tried to make it work, but it did not take much to set him off. Over the next three years, Kare stayed home about a third of the time. A third of the time he spent sailing off to who knew where. Roughly a third of the time he spent at Nidaros.

Kirstie heard that Kare bought a home in Nidaros and moved his girlfriend Randi into the place. She also heard he started hanging out with another girl named Thurid. Kirstie never threw their names in Kare’s face, though she was tempted often enough. Kirstie tried to make it work, but honestly, it got to where it did not take much to set her off either.

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

MONDAY

Yasmina has some thoughts about marriage and children, and Kirstie wants a divorce. Until then, Happy Reading

Kairos Medieval 6: K and Y 1 Married Life, part 1 of 3

September 2, 2024June 30, 2024M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Kirstie

After 883 A. D. Trondelag, Norway

Kairos 104 Lady Kristina of Strindlos

When Kirstie and Yrsa left Father McAndrews and the monks behind and got to the shore of Lindisfarne, they found Captain Harrold’s longship was the last one there. Kirstie took one long look back at the abbey, the chapel, and the village she spared from the Viking rampage. Five shiploads of men eventually came to her side to defend the Holy Island against those who wanted to loot and pillage the island. It was enough to turn the looters away. The island was spared.

Kirstie was especially glad that three of the Viking crews that came to her side included all the men from her home village of Strindlos. Most of those men were her friends and neighbors. True, Captain Harrold Harroldson was the last and he came to her side reluctantly. He seemed convinced the abbey had chests full of gold and silver, and he would not be talked out of it, but his men, the men of Strindlos, outvoted him with their feet. Harrold came, but as he passed her by, he could not resist pointing his finger and mumbling threats about getting even.

When Kirstie and Yrsa clambered aboard Captain Harrold’s ship, Kare yelled at them. “How dare you prevent us from ruining the place. Now King Cnut of York won’t pay us, like he promised. We could have gotten all the silver from the church and been paid besides. We could be rich.”

Kirstie yelled right back. “Me and Yrsa standing alone against four hundred men. You should be glad I’m alive.”

Kare’s friend Thoren spoke in a much calmer voice. “Harrold wanted to leave you here. He wanted to abandon you to your fate among the Northumbrians.”

Kare still yelled. “I said I was not leaving without you. He said I could stay and die with you for all he cared.”

Thoren interrupted again. “Skipari Toke reminded him that Chief Kerga and Mother Vrya would be very unhappy if he left you here.”

Kare nodded, softened his voice a little, and pointed at Thoren. “Not to mention all the strange ones that live around your farm. That will have to change when we get married.”

“That will not change.” Kirstie shouted while she stored her things beneath her seat. She did not say she and Kare would not be married. Kirstie felt there was something inevitable about Kare and her, even if she hated the idea. Kare had been hounding her and threatening to marry her since she was a child. Sadly, she could not imagine a happy life with Kare. Right at the moment, she did not even want to look at the man.

Toke, the skipari made them all take their seats. Kirstie was glad for that, even if Kare sat right behind her. She grabbed her oar, and soon enough they rowed out into deeper water.

Kirstie looked toward the back of the ship, as all rowers did. She watched Captain Harrold at the steering board where he faced the front and could direct the rowers with simple commands. They turned around to head out to sea and Kirstie got a good last look at the island they were leaving behind. She saw ships, primarily fishing ships filled with men sailing by Saint Cuthbert’s Island to reach the main island on the other side of Heugh Hill. Before they got completely out of sight, she saw men on the hill staring back at them. She wondered if Wilam was among them before she scolded herself for believing Wilam felt anything at all for her.

She rescued Wilam with all the crews in Normandy and saw that they got paid. But she just met him. She hardly talked to him. He was just one member of one of the crews. He sailed with Captain Olaf. Brant Svenson was his skipari. But she imagined he was mostly just happy to be freed from his cage. She had no reason to suppose he had any interest in her one way or another.

True, she met him a second time in the Northumbrian village of Ellingham. She warned him about the Norsemen ready to attack Ellingham so he could evacuate the village, but really, he was just grateful. They talked a bit before she had to go, but not about anything important. As soon as Brant Svenson came with two horses, he rode off quick enough. He was just being grateful, she told herself again. It was not anything personal. She decided she should not let her personal feelings run away with her.

Kare said something over her shoulder from behind, but she chose not to hear him.

They rowed the two hours to one of the smaller of the Farne Islands that looked out on the North Sea, well out of sight from the mainland. Harrold brought the ship to the rocky shoreline where they put down the anchor and came ashore.

Kirstie noticed for the first time that they had a few goats tied at the back of the boat, along with a big keg of either wine or beer. Probably beer or mead, she decided. Harrold must have sent a few men to scout ahead on the holy island and maybe they picked up a sampling of what they found.

Kirstie ignored the goats. She had to hurry to Harrold to make her peace offering. He kindly stopped to listen to what she had to say. “I have a present for you, as long as there is peace between us,” she said. “The priest on Lindisfarne gave me this.” She pulled out the small golden cross. “He said it belonged to his mother. It is gold and probably the only gold on the whole island. I am offering it to you as very small compensation for preventing you from pillaging the abbey and the town.” She clutched it and thought through a prayer in her mind before she opened her hand and held it out to the man. “Let there be peace between us.”

Harrold took the little golden cross and looked at it closely before he put it in a pocket of his own. He nodded and said something she did not expect. “Do you know why Toke is my skipari?” Kirstie shook he head. “I can trust him. The men respect him, and he is honest because he is a Godr, a priest of Aesgard. He served in the temple in Varnes. That is where I found him back when you were a baby, and he has sailed with me since that day, which is why you might not know he is a priest.” Harrold turned his head to see one of the goats unloaded from the ship. “I am willing to make peace, but only after the ceremony.”

“What ceremony?” Kirstie asked, and suddenly two plus two added up to about seventeen in her head. “No,” she raised her voice. “I did not agree to this, and I am not agreeing to this.”

“Your agreement does not matter,” Harrold said. “You father is not alive to decide. As a captain in the town and on behalf of the whole community of Strindlos, I am making the decision. You will be married and settle down and stop interfering with the men of the Trondelag.”

“Captain Jarl and Captain Rune, and Chief Kerga will not agree with you. Mother Vrya will speak against you.”

“They are not here,” he said and brushed passed her with a final thought. “You might want to put on your blue dress.”

Kirstie let out a scream before she began to cry and Yrsa came to hold her. She thought about Wilam first thing, but she did not know what to think about Wilam. She honestly had no reason to suppose he had feelings for her. She thought about Kare. She thought about him since she was thirteen. She always figured she would end up married to him, but this was not what she had in mind. Of course, in her culture marriages were arranged, though usually by the father. Sometimes men and women did not even know each other before they married. It was up to the couple to make it work. With Kare, Kirstie figured it would be up to her to make it work.

Medieval 5: K and Y 17 Surprises, part 1 of 4

July 23, 2024June 4, 2024M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Kirstie

Fiona had her baby at the end of March. It was touch and go for most of the procedure but in the end, both Fiona and the baby would live. Fiona named the boy Sibelius and did not explain the name, except to say it was someone she met once, an old Finn that was good to her, and she admired. Besides, Vortesvin agreed, so Doctor Mishka shrugged and gave strict instructions to both Fiona and Inga. She gave them twice to Inga because she figured Fiona could not honestly concentrate. The women had one moment of panic when they realized the baby, being half-troll, would always be massively hungry. Fiona could not possibly nurse such a baby. But Danna, the Celtic mother goddess stepped in and changed Fiona in some way to where she could not only nurse the baby but discipline him as needed when he got older. No comment on the diapers.

Kirstie did not have much time to spend in the village center. She noticed at the end of April that their little bay filled with longships and strangers filled the area. They made space for a big tent camp to house them all. When things on the farm were about as well ordered as they could get, which was not well ordered at all, Kirstie dressed in her armor and weapons, brought a small sack of necessities, and headed toward the ships. She imagined she might sleep on board for a few days while the men got ready to go.

“What do you mean Jarl and Rune both sailed off with the first crew?” Kirstie asked when she arrived.

“They sailed with the first group, headed for the Coquet River,” Toke said. Toke was Harrold’s Skipari and sounded all business.

“You are sailing with us,” Kare said and grinned broadly.

“Captain Harrold carries a whip if you don’t pull your oar,” Thoren teased but Kirstie could not tell if he was joking or not.

Kirstie saw Yrsa walk up the plank and objected. “No. Not this trip. This trip will be too dangerous.”

“All the more reason I need to go,” she countered. “Besides, more dangerous than the last three hags?”

“Yes,” Kirstie said. “Far more dangerous.”

Yrsa shook her head. “I’ve been working out and practicing my rowing all winter.” She raised her arm and made a fist. “See? I have muscles.” It still looked like a skinny elf arm to Kirstie, but she sighed as Yrsa asked, “So where are we sitting?”

Kare and Thoren took them to their seats. Kirstie sat two seats from the front and Yrsa sat across the aisle from her. “Captain says if he puts you two women on the same side, that will make the side too weak, and the ship will go around in circles. Kirstie did not argue. She had no special pull with Captain Harrold Harroldsson, but she noted Thoren sat right behind Yrsa, so she charged him to keep an eye out for her and make sure the crew left her alone and treated her with respect.

Kirstie turned around. She had Kare seated behind her. “Don’t go breathing over my neck the whole trip,” she said as she stored her things.

“I’ll be dreaming about us being together,” he said.

“In your dreams,” she answered, even if he did not grasp the meaning behind that twenty-first century expression. After that, she did her best to ignore the man, and he kept most of his annoying and obnoxious comments to himself.

~*~

Yrsa and Kirstie quickly proved that they were seasoned sailors, willing and able to pull their fair share. Most of the crew accepted that and accepted them after the first day or two. There were a few who could not help the comments now and then, but none that got out of hand, mostly because Toke was all business. Harrold laughed right along with the rest of them when the comments got leud. But Toke made sure that did not happen often and for the most part, kept a lid on that kind of behavior.

They arrived at the cove above Howick on the coast of Northumbria just as the sun set. They anchored offshore where Kirstie noticed three other ships. Toke pointed to the ships one by one. “Captain Bo Erikson from Lagastein on the Frosta Peninsula. Captain Odger Haakonsson from Vigg. He is a mean one. Captain Ulf, you have met.” Toke looked at Kirstie, but she assured him.

“We met.” She made a fowl face and Toke nodded, satisfied.

At dawn, Kirstie turned to Harrold for one of the few times in the whole voyage. “I assume Yrsa, and I will be staying with the ship.”

Harrold looked at her and did not answer immediately, like he had to think about it. Finally, he said, “No.” He explained. “You can read a map and the movement of the sun, knowing north from south. You know about moving through the woods, like the woods by your home. I am told you also look very good in your blue and green dresses. I was thinking we could use you in this raid.”

“I am not walking through the woods in a dress.”

“I don’t expect you to. Get ashore,” he said, and went back to studying his map or whatever parchment he looked at.

When they got to shore, Kirstie found another woman among the men. Gunhild was a large woman, though not quite as tall as Kirstie, and she looked strong, though a bit blubbery. On a man, those arms would be muscle, probably old muscle, but they would not flap so much when the arm moved. Kirstie guessed that Gunhild was in her late forties. She claimed to have sailed with the men for more than twenty years, so Kirstie revised her estimate, thinking Gunhild might be in her early fifties. She presently sailed with Captain Bo Erikson; a man who looked like he was more inclined to trade than raid.

Captain Odger Haakonsson, the mean looking one, seemed more like Harrold. He was willing to trade often enough but he did not hesitate to take what he wanted, and if that involved killing a few of the reluctant traders, so be it. He came across as a man who was quick to take advantage of any weakness on the other side of the ledger and trade could become a raid if there was enough gold and silver involved.

Captain Ulf and his crew, by contrast, seemed the worst sort. Kirstie doubted they even bothered with trade goods. Ulf came across like the kind of man who looked for unsuspecting, minimally defended villages where he could loot and pillage. More like a pirate than a merchant. She imagined he especially liked monasteries and churches as easy targets.

Medieval 5: K and Y 13 Delayed and Interrupted, part 1 of 2

June 26, 2024June 2, 2024M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Kirstie

Before the dawn, Kirstie and Yrsa found Inga and Hilda with baby Erik on the dock. There also appeared to be a dozen men standing around, waiting. Inga explained, but she used her matter-of-fact voice and did not seem the least worried about the situation.

“The ship appears filled with water sprites and they are threatening to drown anyone who dares to come aboard.”

Kirstie paused and hugged Hilda. “I’m so sorry,” she said for the hundredth time, and Hilda began to cry again, though it was a soft cry. “I’ll just see if Yrsa and I can do anything about this situation. I’ll be right back.” Hilda nodded. “Come on,” she grabbed Inga’s hand.

They walked up the plank to the deck of the ship, and the water appeared to pull back from their face to leave about two feet of free space around the girls. “Vingevourt,” Kirstie called, and the sprite extracted himself from that mass of water.

“Lady,” he said and bowed this time.

“Vingevourt. This is my good friend and self-designated mother figure, Inga. And this is my good friend and self-designated she-bear protector, Yrsa. This is Vingevourt, Lord of the North Sea, in case you should meet again.”

“My pleasure,” Vingevourt bowed again.

“Now,” Kirstie said. “Thank you for protecting our treasure, but we need to board now and prepare to sail on the tide.” She looked around the ship filled with water that slowly leaked back into the fjord. “I hope you didn’t get everything soaking wet. That would make for very uncomfortable sailing, not to mention rot the wood.”

“Don’t worry, lady,” Vingevourt responded in his precious baby voice. “We were careful to keep away from all the wood and from your things. When the men come aboard, everything should be dry and ready to go.”

Kirstie smiled because most of her little ones were much smarter and more thoughtful than most people realized. “Thank you. Bless you,”

“Thank you too. Glad we could help,” Vingevourt said, and he blended into the last of the water that fell over the side. Yrsa already stood at the gangplank.

“It’s okay. The water is gone. We can board now, safely,” she hollered. Some of the men grumbled when they came aboard but finding everything dry instead of soaking wet satisfied most of their complaints.

Kirstie went back to the dock to hug her friend again, and Hilda spoke though her tears. “But Kirstie, what am I going to do? Troels is the only man who really cared for me. When I got pregnant, he married me right away so no one would know.” Kirstie paused to let Hilda cry on her shoulder. She knew many men were not as good about getting a young girl pregnant. Some outright denied that they had any responsibility. Troels did seem to care about Hilda, but he was gone now.

“I heard Thoren say he felt sorry. He said you deserved better.”

“You and Kare,” she said.

“Not by my choice, but Thoren seems nice.”

Hilda nodded. “He is nice,” she admitted.

Inga interrupted. “Jarl and Leif are here. You better get going.”

Kirstie nodded and then caused some more grumbling from the crew, and some shuffling of seats. Kirstie sat in the front and Yrsa sat in front of her so they would not be stared at by most of the crew through much of the voyage.

~~~*~~~

Jarl opted to follow the coast all the way to the Frankish north shore. They had good weather crossing the North Sea from Norway to Denmark, so Kirstie felt optimistic about the trip, and Jarl knew his seas well enough to travel down the correct side of the Jutland Peninsula. The sky clouded over on a couple of days, but the sun stayed out most of the time. They got all the way to just shy of the Eider River before a sudden storm came up, and it was a whopper. It did not occur to Kirstie yet that maybe Abraxas was playing with the weather. This one blew up a real gale and terrifying waves.

“Must be a cyclone,” Kirstie shouted as Yrsa tied her to the railing.

“In the North Sea?” Yrsa wondered.

“Extratropical. A real Nor’easter,” Kirstie said, not that Yrsa knew what that was.

“Storm surge tides will be bad,” Leif shouted back.

“It’s bad enough here,” the man with him also shouted. Leif the skipari, and the man, Old Man Skarde, tied themselves in the very front where they could keep some sort of watch on where they were going. The sail was down, and rowing would do nothing. They were at the mercy of the sea, but it would be bad if the sea decided to push them too close to a rocky shore. Jarl and two others were tied to the steering board, not that they could turn the ship much if they did head toward the rocks.

Kirstie kept her head down to keep as warm as she could in the cold rain. She checked her weapons every few minutes to make sure they were well fastened in. After forever, just when she thought the wind was lessening, a giant wave broke the railing where she was tied. She got dragged out to sea before even Yrsa with her elf speed could grab her.

Kirstie went underwater, but she was not afraid. The rail of the ship might drag her down, but she could both breathe underwater and handle the pressure thanks to the gift of Njord. Besides, the storm did not seem so bad down below.

It took her a few seconds to untie herself, and she headed back toward the surface in just her underthings, having sent her armor back to where it came from. Only then did it occur to her that no one else got dragged overboard. Something fishy about this, she thought. No pun intended. Someone spoke to her inside her mind, and she identified the voice as Amphitrite, queen goddess of the sea. Okay. Kirstie agreed without a second thought, and she went away from there. Amphitrite came to swim in her place, dressed in her mermaid tail.

Amphitrite immediately rose up about ten feet above the waves and checked. She saw the string between the cyclone and the Saxon Shore and did not doubt who was responsible. She sent a sharp thought to Abraxas. “You mess with my winds and waves again, and I will kill you.” She shook her head. She never ever thought that way, but Abraxas had shown he would not understand anything less. “Manannan.” Amphitrite called to the sea god and waited a second before she added, “Do I have to get your mother to fetch you?”

“Majesty.” Manannan appeared standing beside her in midair, still ten feet above the waves.

Amphitrite harumphed and put her hands to her hips. “Please move the cyclone over Saxony and southern Danish lands. My water babies can feed the trees. Try and limit the storm surge. This is an artificial event created by Abraxas. And please pay attention. If he starts to play with the weather again, you have my permission to kick his butt from here to the moon.” She waved him off.

“Majesty.” He bowed again and vanished.

Amphitrite looked down. A pod of dolphins found her and presently circled beneath her feet. “Come children,” she said. “Let’s catch up to the ship.” They swam and played, regularly breaking the surface as they moved. A family of whales joined the game, though they stayed further out. As they approached the ship, Amphitrite knew she was not authorized to fix the ship, but she did check the ship. The hull was good and undamaged. The deck and seats were soaked. A few seats could probably stand to be replaced. The sail had a tear, and the mast was tilted, but the only real break was right where Kirstie had been sitting. Amphitrite understood that was not an accident.

“Too bad,” Kirstie said in Amphitrite’s mind, thinking Amphitrite could fix and strengthen the ship with a mere thought. “Maybe we can stop by that village on the Elbe, like we did with Rune. Last time we told the village men we were just making repairs and would leave them alone. They accepted that and left us alone.”

Amphitrite nodded. It is rarely wise to intervene in the normal course of events, even if the damage is caused by an unnatural event. It is not my place to fix it. I am not the fix-it genie.

Amphitrite made the final leap to the deck of the moving ship, now settled down as the storm pushed off. The men were up pointing at the whales in the distance, and the dolphins near to hand. Dolphins were a sign of good luck, even to Vikings. Yrsa, poor girl, looked terribly worried, but when Amphitrite made the jump to the ship, she traded places with Kirstie, so Kirstie landed on her feet, reclothed in her armor, right next to the girl who sighed her relief. Leif let out his obligatory little shriek and Jarl gave it his best blink. Old Man Skarde had the courage to squint at her and ask how she managed that.

Kirstie noticed her armor was perfectly dry and even repaired in one spot where she had a tear so small, no one but her would notice. She smiled for the crew and told her story, embellished enough to make Yrsa the elf embarrassed at the lies. Kirstie did not tell them about Amphitrite, or about Abraxas causing the storm. She figured the men had enough to worry about without that. She did tell them about her encounter with the sea god who promised to move the cyclone over the land and off the sea. She credited Manannan with getting the dolphins to carry her back to her ship.

“And when the lord of the dolphins threw me to the deck, I thought sure I was going to crash into the mast.” She pantomimed splatting against the mast and a few of the men laughed softly. “Captain,” she said quickly, and Leif listened as well. She told them how Captain Stenson stopped near a village on the Elbe, and how she and Yrsa talked to the village men and found them more than willing to not want any trouble.

“The village men left us alone on the promise that we make our repairs and leave, which we did.”

“Can you find this place?” Leif asked. He got out the chest and the chart to see how far away the Elbe was. While Kirstie nodded, Jarl asked a more pointed question.

“I was looking at the charts right before the big storm hit. So, how do you know the Elbe is the next big river?”

Kirstie looked the man in the eye. “I am a navigator, as was my father.”

Jarl blinked again before he nodded and turned to the charts. “I had forgotten.”

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

MONDAY

The ship needs repairs which is a bit tricky when you are a ship full of dreaded Vikings. Until next time, Happy Reading.

Medieval 5: K and Y 8 The Saxon Hag, part 1 of 2

May 28, 2024April 9, 2024M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Kirstie

Yrsa proved her worth early on when they stopped in a port on Jutland to replenish their supplies. She could communicate with the Jutes and Danes in a way that sounded like a native. The crew understood most of what the Danes said, and could respond, but not exactly, and they sounded like foreigners. Yrsa got better cooperation from the village chiefs.

They had some rough weather along the Danish coast and needed to stop again near a village of Nordalbings by the delta of the Elbe River. They needed to repair their sail among a few other small things. The village men turned out on the second day, but Yrsa also spoke Old German like a native and convinced the villagers to leave them alone. They would be moving on and leave the village in peace.

By the time they reached the Frisian coast at the delta of the Weser, no one was really surprised that Yrsa was also fluent in the Frisian tongue. Frode even said that now he understood why Kirstie brought the girl. The Frisians blocked the ship with fishing boats. They were mostly fishermen and farmers with farm implements, not really soldiers prepared to fight, but they were a bit of an army.

Kirstie dressed herself in fairy weave and shaped it to imitate the blue dress she had seen on a rich woman in Danish lands. Yrsa only wore fairy weave and imitated Kirstie’s dress but insisted on hunter green. The men were good and did not whistle at all, even when they saw Yrsa in a dress. Kirstie leaned on the rail and spoke to Captain Stenson while the men lowered the longboat.

“Interesting,” Kristie mentioned to Captain Stenson. “By this date the people along the coasts assume any longship means trouble.” They raised a white flag and rowed the longboat out to the big fishing ship the Frisians indicated. Four men, the rowers, stayed in the longboat while Captain Stenson, Frode, Kirstie and Yrsa climbed to the deck. They found a dozen men decked out in more military garb, and one knight who spoke for all the locals. The knight and his soldiers looked surprised to see the women, though less surprised when Yrsa translated everything.

Kirstie and Captain Stenson discussed it, and the captain spoke appropriately. “I am Captain Rune Stenson, a simple trader. sailing my ship with trade goods headed for Bremen. We will sail up the Weser River, and after we have made whatever deals we can make, we will return this way to the sea. We have no intention of bothering you or your people. You can see the flag we fly” It showed an R, n, and crooked t over the picture of a stone. “That is me, Rune Stenson. Sten in our tongue is the word for stone. This way when you see my ship you can be assured that we come in peace.”

“And what do you have to trade?” The knight sounded skeptical.

“Grain, and bundles of furs and fine leather from the north. We are not rich men.”

“And I should trust you?”

Kirstie butted in front of Captain Stenson and interrupted, as was becoming her tendency. “Do you have a name, or do we call you Mister Person in Charge?”

“This is my land, given to me by the king to protect the land from your kind.” He stared at the girl before he softened and said, “I am Sir Waldo of Deventer.”

Kirstie smiled, stepped up to grab and shake the man’s hand before he could object. Later, she imagined she was channeling Lord Festuscato, Last Senator of Rome, a life she lived in the centuries between Greta and Margueritte. “I am Lady Kristina of Strindlos, and I would rather be your friend than your enemy. I mean, look at me. I mean you no harm. Besides…” she pointed generally toward the fishing boats. “You have a bunch of farmers and fishermen, not fighters. I am sure you would rather save them to bring in the fish and work in your fields. There is no reason we should fight.”

Sir Waldo stared at the girl and frowned, but just a little. “Bremen?” he asked and pointed toward the river. He might let them through to bother the Saxons if they promised to leave Frisia alone.

“Yes, sir,” Kirstie answered. “It is a big town that might be interested in our goods. But look. I am willing to make a pledge of friendship or maybe call it something for safe passage up the river. Let me give you this piece of amber. I found a couple of pieces right by my house and I thought surely the Lord was smiling on me.” Sir Waldo raised an eyebrow, and Kirstie said plainly. “I am a Christian.” She pulled out her little wooden cross.

He did not exactly believe her, but he saw no reason to waste his men fighting a merchant ship. He looked at the amber in his hand and spoke. “Lady Kristina of Strindlos.” he remembered. “You may pass, and I may even hope you do well in Bremen.”

Kirstie grinned. “Lady,” she said. “Back home they mostly just call me a girl, not a lady, except my companion Yrsa. She calls me Lady.”

Yrsa translated and added, “Yes I do.” She bowed to Kirstie and said, “Lady,” in both languages.

Sir Waldo smiled for the first time. “And a fine young woman, I am sure.”

Kirstie returned the smile and added a small curtsey, though it felt a bit awkward. “Thank you, Sir Waldo. The Word says kindness is a virtue, and sometimes we entertain angels unaware. I also hope we make some good trades.” She hustled Rune and Frode to the longboat and thought to wave as they rowed back to their own ship, as any young girl might.

Captain Stenson turned on her when they got out of earshot. “You need to let me bargain for my own ship.”

“Sorry,” Kirstie said. “I just thought getting out of a tight spot without bloodshed was good, and I thought an innocent young girl might get a better response than harsh words.”

“I am sure that is true,” Frode said, and Captain Stenson reluctantly nodded.

When they climbed back aboard the ship, Yrsa immediately changed her fairy weave back into leather-like slacks and a leather tunic over her plain shirt. She picked up her bow and arrows and sat on her bench without a word.

“So, young lady,” Captain Stenson began, ready to make some snappy remark but shut his mouth when Kirstie called and became clothed again in her armor, her sword and knife at her side, her long knife across the small of her back, and her battleaxe diagonally across her back, reaching up to her shoulder beneath her shield.

“I guess I’m not made for dresses,” Kirstie said.

Frode countered. “I think you and Yrsa are made for dresses just fine.”

Kirstie made a face at him and took off her weapons so she could sit and help row up the river.

Finding the Weser River was the easy part. Being able to get up the river to Bremen without drawing out a real army was a bit tricky. They passed more farms and a Frisian hamlet in the delta. They had to stop in Bremerhaven, the first German town when word got there before the ship arrived. They had the ship searched. Captain Otto, the head man in the dock wanted to confiscate the cargo as soon as he discovered what they carried. Yrsa had to translate for the men and related what Captain Otto said. Captain Stenson and Frode got ready to start a fight, but Kirstie, dressed in her dress, stepped between the men, and totally interrupted, again.

“You don’t want to do that,” Kirstie stood up to the man. “These goods are for trade and for sale. Are you making an offer to buy these things?” Yrsa translated into the Old German tongue.

Captain Otto frowned at what he considered to be a child. He looked at the anger on the faces of Rune and Frode, turned his head to look at the two dock workers beside him and the twenty soldiers he had on the dock, along with the many dock workers there who stopped whatever they were doing to watch. He decided to speak to the child and explained in his most condescending manner. “There are taxes and docking fees that need to be paid, and since you have no coin of the realm, we will take and sell your goods. After the taxes, fees, and all have been paid, we will give you what is left.” He smiled for the girl, looking like the drunk uncle at the Christmas table that no one wanted to hear from, until the girl asked him an unexpected question.

“Are you a Christian?” The man paused and looked confused before he nodded. “And does the Lord condone stealing?”

“It is hardly stealing from pagan unbelievers.”

“It is stealing, but in any case, I am also a Christian, and you would be stealing from me.” Kirstie pulled her wooden cross out from beneath her shirt. “Thou shalt not steal is one of the ten commandments.”

One of the dock workers whispered to his captain, “She is right.” Yrsa heard and translated the words out loud. Kirstie continued.

“Rune and Frode. You need to go into town and find the guild masters that might be interested in our wares. At least the jewelers, the bakers, and the candlestick makers for the beeswax, and maybe the smiths and the tailors for the hides. Ivory is good for the pommel of a sword. See what they offer, and if it is not a king’s ransom, tell them we will go down to Bremen. I am sure we will get a good price there.”

“The guild masters?” Captain Stenson asked.

“Of course,” Kirstie answered. “Who have you been selling to?”

“Whoever was in…”

“…never mind,” Captain Stenson said. “Come on.”

Medieval 5: K and Y 6 Getting Ready, part 2 of 2

May 21, 2024April 9, 2024M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Kirstie

In those days, Inga and Buttercup visited regularly to where Kirstie’s house became like a second home, and they spent the night often enough.

“But there was so much yelling,” Buttercup explained about Captain Harrold’s visit. She fluttered down to the table where Kirstie made a soft cushioned stool just her size. “It was scary.” she finished and settled down.

“But it turned out all right,” Inga said.

“I heard the yelling all the way up here,” Yrsa said whether that was true or not.

They all looked at Kirstie, but Kirstie had something else in mind. “Buttercup, come here.”

“Come where?” Buttercup asked. “I am here.”

“No, here,” Kirstie said and used her hands to show where she meant. She thought there would be enough space in that spot. The fairy complied and everyone looked curious before Kirstie said, “Now, get big.”

Buttercup fretted and swayed a little back and forth in the air until she made up her mind. She got big and lost the points to her ears and the wings at her back. Of course, her fairy weave clothes grew with her, so she did not appear naked in her big size. She looked down, like one embarrassed, but as Kirstie thought, she never got big before for Inga.

Yrsa let out a little gasp at how beautiful the fairy was, as all fairies should be. Buttercup looked to be about eighteen, the same as Yrsa, and Kirstie nodded to say she understood in human terms they were a smidgen younger than Inga, though Buttercup was actually one hundred and fifty-seven and Yrsa was one hundred and thirty-three. Of course, Inga saw Svator get big in the big house war meeting, but for some reason it never occurred to her to ask Buttercup to get big.

“Is this okay?” Buttercup asked without looking up.

Inga stood and hugged the girl. “You look beautiful,” she said. Yrsa and Kirstie passed a glance and got up to join the hug, and Buttercup’s small voice came out from the midst of all those huggers.

“Now I am going to get happy-weepy.”

Kirstie let go and Yrsa followed, wiping her own eyes a bit. Inga backed up and Kirstie spoke. “You can get little again if you like.”

Buttercup thought about it and shook her head. “I can stay big for a while,” she said and wiped her eyes on her sleeve. Kirstie found her a regular chair and said that now she could get big when she wanted to help Inga or Mother Vrya in their work.

“I don’t know,” Inga said. “She already helped in the birth of Bodil’s baby. Poor Bodil was in terrible pain, screaming pain, and even Mother Vrya was at a loss as to what to do. Suddenly, Buttercup came racing in and hovered over the bed, hands on her hips and shouting. “Quiet. You are not having a leg chopped off. You are having a baby and that is a wonderful thing. You keep screaming and you will just scare your own baby. You don’t want to scare you own baby.” Bodil looked up at the voice and said, “Oh, a fairy.” She reached up, but Buttercup kept back. But after that, Bodil delivered her baby without another sound. It was like magic, like a miracle, like you talk about.”

Kirstie reached down beneath her shirt. She had a small wooden cross made and wore it around her neck on a leather string, but she said nothing at that time. Instead, she said, “Can’t count on that response from every human. Some might see the fairy and scream louder.”

“I know,” Buttercup said. “That is why I stay hidden in Inga’s hair.”

Inga turned to Kirstie. “I’ll never be able to braid my hair again.”

Kirstie smiled. About half of her hair was loose, but about half was beautifully braided in two long strands that fell down her back.

When Kirstie was not learning about weapons or visiting with Inga and Buttercup, she went to the village center. That happened regularly enough, and Yrsa often went with her. They always found the people in the village warm and friendly. It was not just that they knew Kirstie all her life, or even that they knew Kirstie’s parents and like them well enough. It was because they credited Kirstie with saving their village and saving so many of their lives during the Vanlil invasion and the rebellion of the exiles, all of whom eventually had their heads chopped off by the king.

Often enough, Kirstie went to the village to keep up with her friends. She met with Hilda regularly, and Hilda took her to the marketplace to look at things such as a wife and young mother might want. There was no disguising what was on Hilda’s mind. Yrsa went with them occasionally. Hilda expressed a little jealousy toward Yrsa’s closeness with Kirstie, but oddly enough, she never asked where Yrsa lived. Somehow, she got the impression that Yrsa might be from Varnes, though maybe she lived on this side of the river.

“What I honestly don’t understand is your obsession with weapons and fighting,” Hilde said. “I mean, look. Isn’t this cloth just beautiful?”

“Silk,” Kirstie named it. She knew Captain Harrold brought it back from Kent at the cost of a few men’s lives. “I’m not obsessed. I am sure when I am older, I will agree. It is beautiful. But right now… My father had a son, you know, but he did not live. I feel it is my duty to carry on the family tradition for the day when I have a son.”

Hilda did not exactly buy the explanation. “So, you plan to marry someday and have a son?”

“Kare keeps threatening me.”

Hilda smiled at that. “Liv says she is never going to marry.”

“Liv’s father might have something to say about that.”

Hilda shook her head. “Liv’s father and mother are not around much. There is something strange there. Liv is strange. She is getting stranger and stranger the older she gets.”

Kirstie nodded. She saw Liv a few times over those years. and while the girl seemed normal enough in a way, Kirstie could not disagree with Hilda that in some ways the girl seemed stranger and stranger.

One time when she got to the village, she found the king’s ship in the dock. Two men in particular, Lind and Gruden, seemed especially interested in finding Elgar the Saxon. They heard in other villages how Elgar organized the counterattack that defeated the enemies of the king.

“We just want to honor him for his help,” Lind said, though he was not a convincing liar.

“Being a Saxon, I am sure he went back to Saxony, or West Saxony, or wherever he came from,” Chief Kerga told them, and they left, not entirely happy. Kirstie sighed her relief. The people in Strindlos would not betray her, even if the king offered a reward. Well, at least that would depend on how much of a reward he offered.

Another time in the village, she ran into Kare and Thoren. In fact, she saw them several times over those years, and each time they seemed creepier than the time before. Fortunately, they sailed in Rune’s ship twice before they found a place in Harrold’s ship. Captain Harrold lost a few men in the encounter in Kent, and since Kare and Thoren had some seasoning, and since they wanted to make a change, he took them for his crew.

Thoren said, “Rune and Frode could not find their way out of a sack of grain.” Kirstie heard that as out of a paper bag. She smiled at the time and ran home to get out her father’s charts and things and review everything she could remember about navigation, as her father taught her.

After Kirstie turned thirteen, and she began to show that she might not be a skinny little blonde beanpole her entire life, Kare started in on the drumbeat that he was going to marry her. It got annoying. He said he was saving all his money, and Thoren’s, too. He said he was going to get his own ship someday soon. “Just you watch.” She watched. Granted, he was something of a leader among the boys in his generation, about Inga’s age. But he was roughly eight years older than her, which made him twenty-one to her thirteen.

To be honest, eleven, twelve, and thirteen was when girls did start thinking about marriage. If Kirstie’s father was alive, that was the age when he would start looking around to make a good match. The presumed quality of that match depended on his wealth, power, status, and standing in the community and region. It had nothing to do with what she wanted. Kirstie imagined she would have been married at sixteen or seventeen to some stranger, and it would have been up to her to make it work. But then, her father was gone, and that liberated her in some sense.

Kirstie thought about Inga, who turned twenty and almost qualified for the term old maid. Inga was pretty enough and would have made an excellent catch for any man, but her parents were also gone. Her father died at sea. His ship got caught in a terrible storm and he got washed overboard to never be seen again. That happened often enough. Then, her mother caught the winter flu and died despite the best efforts of Mother Vrya. Mother Vrya took Inga at that point to be her pupil, and Kirstie’s mother somehow convinced the girl to help watch over her wild child, Kirstie. Mother Vrya encouraged that situation, because it gave her pupil some income and a stable home environment she could count on in time of need. It also gave Inga a chance to provide a steadying influence on the wild one in her charge.

And Kirstie did settle down, some. But Inga did not marry, though she may have had a couple of offers. Kirstie got the feeling Mother Vrya ran interference for Inga with Chief Birger and others to see she did not get roped into a relationship she did not want. From time to time, Kirstie thought Kare would not be a terrible choice. At least she knew the boy—the man, creepy as he could be at times. He was not a stranger. Still, at thirteen to his twenty-one the age difference seemed insurmountable. Kare was serious. Kirstie had some words for him.

“Pervert,” she called him. “Pedophile.” Mostly, she had no interest in marriage, so it was just as well she did not take his comments seriously. She normally laughed in his face when he brought it up. At that time, she had far more important things to worry about, like where she needed to go.

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~*~

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