Medieval 6: Giovanni 11 And the Wolv, part 1 of 2

February 5, 2025January 6, 2025M G Kizzia Leave a comment

They filled the big tent twice in Ulm and might have stayed for a third show, but Giovanni made them move on. It was the first place they said they would try and come again. It was also the first place where the local bishop showed some hostility. Fortunately, they did nothing to accuse them of, and his spies actually enjoyed the show, so he did nothing to prevent them moving on. Most of the circus did not know this. They left happy and optimistic about the journey. Leonora asked if maybe Nameless or Junior did something on their behalf to fill the tent. Giovanni said absolutely not.

“My other lives are not allowed to interfere in that way. This is my life to live it well or screw it up all on my own. There are strict rules on how any life in the past or future might interfere with the present, but even stricter rules as far as the gods are concerned.”

“We have an elephant,” she said, and neither of them could think of any good reason why Junior would do that.

‘I guess when I was a kid I promised Otto I would show him an elephant. I think Junior did it mostly for me because I should know better than to make those kinds of promises.”

“What kind of promises?” she asked, sounding as innocent as possible.

“The kind where I have to depend on others to deliver.”

“Oh…” She tried not to sound disappointed, but she nodded that she understood. Then she had another thought. “I can’t believe you are friends with the Holy Roman Emperor.”

“Worse than that,” he said. “I may be his only real friend and everyone needs at least one real friend.”

“You are my one real friend. I don’t have any others.”

Giovanni laughed. “You have no friends in the circus?”

“Like friends,” she said. “More like family, like you told me. Oh, honestly, I love them all, well just about, and that is certainly like family, but it is different. You know what I mean…”

He hugged her and laughed again.

Giovanni and Leonora were soft and tender with each other in those days. They often touched and sometimes even kissed. When they got to Breisach on the Rhine, Giovanni said he had a surprise for her. He took her into the village. It was not what Leonora expected and hardly what she hoped for. Giovanni traded places with Genevieve who took Leonora all around the town, pointing out many things that had changed since her day, but many things that were the same. She talked to Leonora as woman to woman. Genevieve liked to talk and, after getting over her initial shock, Leonora got to where she opened up in a way she would never open up to a man.

In the end, it came down to one thing. “I want to be with him and no one else for the rest of my life. Why won’t he marry me? I dream about our children.” Leonora cried a little because he was not there to see her cry.

Genevieve thought about it before she answered, a habit she only picked up later in life, though she appeared to be around eighteen, maybe Leonora’s age. “One of his oldest and most sacred rules is he will never be with one of his little ones in that way, or even half and half’s down to the tenth generation. No matter how tempting that might be, he never will and I never did. I never even thought about that. You see, more than four thousand years ago, he, or rather she became a fairy for a period of time for reasons I won’t go into. She accomplished what she wanted, but during that time she fell in love with a fairy prince and they had a son. When she returned to herself, she spent the next four thousand years kicking herself because, while her son was ninety-nine percent fairy, he had just enough of the goddess in him to be immortal. And I don’t think he ever grew out of being a teenager, if you can imagine four thousand years of that.”

“Goddess?”

“No need to go into that. The point is, he made a rule and he has kept to it. The rule about circus people is like a reflection of that rule, I think. Others may violate the rule. That has to be judged on a case to case basis, but he will not violate his own rule. You are circus now and so he just won’t go there.”

She cried some more and Genevieve just had to say something. “You know, whatever you share with me he will also hear and see. This is his time and place. I’m just a guest. I was born in the year of our Lord 755. Want to know when I died?”

“What?”

“It is funny that I remember it now. I think it is because it happened in the past. It was around 820 because that is when I was born in Wessex as Elgar the Saxon. Would you like to meet Elgar? Wait, I know.” Genevieve vanished at that point and another woman took her place. She still had blond hair, like Giovanni had blond hair, but Giovanni’s hazel eyes that turned medium brown in Genevieve now turned striking blue. This woman’s blond hair was also much lighter, almost like a platinum blond. She said. “My name is Kirstie. I was born after Elgar and I’m not going to talk your ear off like Genevieve. Let me just say Giovanni’s a fool if he loses you, and that is all I am going to say.”

Leonora hugged her and they walked slowly back to the circus. After a while, Leonora did have a question.

“What makes you think he might lose me?”

Kirstie always thought before she spoke, or almost always. “Girls talk about forever all the time, but that is not realistic. Maybe he will get killed. The Kairos is not guaranteed to live a long life. I died young. Maybe your father will find you out. Maybe you will find someone else who will give you those children, not on purpose, but it happens.”

“No, never happen,” she said, and Kirstie was not going to argue with her.

Kirstie stopped their forward progress before they got back into the crowd. Leonora had another question. “Where are you from?” She heard all about how Genevieve was the Countess of Breisach before she married and became the Margravine of Provence. Kirstie said nothing so Leonora asked.

“Norway,” Kirstie said. “I’m one of those terrible Norsemen you heard about.” She smiled and vanished as Giovanni came home and added, “A real Viking who sadly died young.” he held his arm out for her to take. “Lind and Gruden were the assassins. Lind was a short one and Gruden a great big man with a sword. I killed them twice now.”

“Twice?”

“Kirstie killed them, though it cost her life to do it. Actually, she had a busted side and many broken bones and still managed. Then Yasmina after Kirstie killed them again when they were trying to mess up history.”

Leonora nodded. “You said keeping history on track was the main thing. but how could they have been in both places?”

“The Masters, whoever they are, have learned how to give their servants another life. Through them they can really mess things up if I am not careful.”

“The Masters?”

“Demons from the pit of Hell is what I think.”

“And they want to change history?”

“Well, let’s just say they certainly don’t want a good outcome. Don’t worry about it. Look, it is after noon. We have a performance to get to.”

“Oh!” Leonora jumped. “I have to get in costume. I have to get my face on.” She ran off.

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

Monday

The circus heads to the capital of the Hoy Roman Empire and Leonora fears she will be caught. Until Monday, Happy Reading

Medieval 6: K and Y 20 End and Beginning, part 1 of 2

December 10, 2024November 23, 2024M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Kirstie

Benches and tables had been turned over all around the big house. Chairs were broken and tables were moved every which way. Kirstie thought the big room was empty at first, but she heard a sound in the corner of the dais opposite the door and saw some movement behind a table.

“Hello?” she called.

Wilam went to the door, while Inga and Erik stared at the wreckage. “A battle?” Erik asked, not really knowing. Inga shrugged as if to say she did not know, but she added a thought.

“No bodies.”

Wilam wisely peeked before he opened the door. He saw armed men in the street and marketplace, and there appeared to be bodies outside. He shut the door carefully and returned to report to the others but found Kirstie up on the dais.

“Hello,” Kirstie said, pushing a turned over chair from her path.

“Kirstie?” the word came back, a girl’s voice.

“Hilda?” It sounded like her childhood friend. she helped move the table as Hilda stood from where she hid.” What happened?” Kirstie asked as she took her friend’s hand and helped her come to join the others. Hilda began to weep so her words came out in bits and pieces.

“Liv’s men from Varnes… The king’s men… Other men… Kare.” Hilda tried to sniff and pull her thoughts together when Inga reached out and held her. “They came to the house. Thoren took the boys to your house, to Yrsa and Lyall. He said he would get help, but I think he feared the men might be at your house. He told me to go to the Witcher Women across the way. He said I should be safe there.” She began to weep again in earnest. “The women were all dead… They killed Mother Vrya…”

Kirstie picked up the story for Wilam and Erik as Inga began to cry with Hilda. “I’m guessing they went to the Witcher Women before invading Hilda’s home. She probably ran here looking for a safe shelter when they gathered on the road to attack our house.” She reached out to touch Wilam’s arm while she fought her own tears.

“What about the men in town? Where is Chief Kerga? Where are the village elders and the captains and their crews? There are bodies outside, and armed men I don’t recognize in the streets.”

Kirstie nodded and sniffed herself. “The men are at sea or living in Nidaross. They may be the king’s men, but you know the king did not send them. You, me, and the king were fighting the Swedes just a month ago, and the good men of the Trondelag are probably still there, fighting. Kare probably recruited all around the fjord. Don’t be surprised if Bieger, Lind, and Gruden are around. As for Liv… I don’t know what to think. She was a strange one when we were growing up.”

“Liv,” Hilda interrupted. “Liv is here, and her men.”

Kirstie nodded. “She got more strange as the years went on. I don’t know how she became the owner and captain of her own ship.” Kirstie shook her head.

They heard the noise from the outside. It sounded like it was increasing in volume and intensity. Kirstie and Wilam had to look. The elves and fairies of the woods had arrived and were driving back the so-called king’s men. Kirstie saw that Booturn brought a whole company of dwarfs with him, and they were attacking with hammers and axes. Vortesvin ran at the men and the king’s men scattered and ran away from the big troll.

“In here. Quick,” they heard, and Kirstie shouted as she and Wilam closed and barred the door.

“Liv.” Kirstie spat at the door. “Inga, take Hilda to the storeroom and lock yourselves in. There is one window if you need to get out.”

Inga did not argue, but Hilda kept staring, open mouthed, and was slow to respond. Kirstie called for her armor and weapons and found a couple of additions to her ensemble. Yasmina’s small cavalry-shield and scimitar appeared in her hands. She quickly handed the small shield to Erik who stood beside Wilam. Wilam pulled his sword and grabbed a broken chair to serve as his shield. Erik still had the mace he took from the castle wall in Avalon.

Something banged on the front door, hard. Kirstie looked to be sure Inga and Hilda got out when a dozen men burst out of the storeroom. Kerga, Alm, and Thoren led the way. Then the front door got ripped off the hinges. A twelve-foot hag stepped into the room, ducking her head a bit under the ceiling. Plenty of men followed her.

“How can there be a hag?” Kirstie asked. “And one as big as the one in America which was six girls combined.”

The hag answered. “You killed my father!” It was Liv. Kirstie imagined she should have been more surprised, but somehow, she knew all along. She wondered instead how Liv could be a hag without the power of Abraxas behind her. Then she got too busy to think.

She dragged the scimitar across the throat of the man that came at her. It happened by reflex. She nearly cut the man’s head off. It was Lind. She mumbled, “Two for two,” and let go of the weapon. The scimitar vanished and her battleaxe flew to her hand.

Chief Kerga and two others went at the hag. Kirstie tried to yell, “No.” but it was too late. She tried to run and help, but the Liv-hag caught her with a backhand that sent her across the room. Her shield cracked, her arm broke, and her ribs caved in all from that one blow. She could only lay there and watch.

Wilam killed Bieger. Thoren, Alm, and the others drove the king’s men back outside, but then stayed near the door. They did not want the elves or dwarfs to mistake them for the enemy. Wilam stood out front knowing the little ones would recognize him and he could turn them away. Alm stood with him.

With the room mostly empty, Liv turned on the broken body of Kirstie at her feet. “You killed my father,” Liv repeated, and Kirstie thought with cool dispassion.

Of course. Liv is a demigod, daughter of the evil Abraxas. She thought of what both Grandfather Njord and Father Fryer said when they gave her the gifts of water and fire. It will be enough. She could only try.

Kirstie sat herself up, her back to the wall. She raised her good hand and poured the fire of the sun on the hag. She gave it every ounce of fire she had in her. The hag reveled in the flames and grew to eighteen, maybe twenty feet. Kirstie dispassionately thought this was the last gasp of the titans whose blood still ran in the gods of old.

Liv roared as she busted through the ceiling and roof of the big house. Great timbers came crashing down to the floor, and one wall busted free of the structure. She roared like the sound of a hundred lions. The building caught fire and it spread rapidly, but Kirstie could not help that. She simply opened her mouth.

A fountain of water flowed from her mouth. It quickly became a stream of water, and in the end a roaring river, more than the biggest firehoses combined. It completely covered the burning hag. In the future, Kirstie swore she heard a loud Snap or Crack when the glue that held the hag together busted altogether. Kirstie remembered the Grendel. She fully expected Liv would not melt exactly like the others. She would retain some of her size and shape, but she would surely be dead. It was enough.

Kirstie smiled, knowing that this was definitely the last. She looked around at the building and knew she did not have more water to put out the burning wood. The big house would burn rapidly to the ground with her in it. She did not mind. She felt certain she was dying.

She saw movement. It looked like a man with a sword at the ready. She recognized him when he got close and spat his name, though she could hardly talk. “Gruden.”

“Kairos,” he responded, and grinned. “The Masters have determined that if I can kill you before your time, that will disrupt your rebirths and end them. Then you will not be around to stand in the way of their plans, and they can ruin the world as they please.”

Kirstie shook her head. It did not work that way. The God who knows the end from the beginning would know ahead of time the precise moment of her death. That would be her proper time, no matter what the Masters did.

Gruden stepped up to her, sword in hand, pointed down at her middle. She did this once with Captain Ulf on the field below Lindisfarne, only that time she sat up and turned so Ulf missed her. Now, she could hardly move. Her entire left side felt numb.

Gruden looked ready to strike. Kirstie called for her long knife, Defender. The knife vacated its sheath and flew to her hand, so when Gruden came down with his sword and pierced her in the middle, her knife went up into the man’s chest, cutting him in the heart, using the man’s own motion toward her to make up for her failing strength.

Kirstie knew she would not survive the cut in her belly. She would soon bleed out her life. But Gruden’s eyes went wide with surprise when Defender cut him deeply. He fell and died quickly.

Wilam braved the flames and the collapsing big house. He found her readily enough. The sword fell out from the weight of the handle. It made the cut worse, but that hardly mattered. Wilam lifted her and carried her outside to lay her down gently.

Kirstie wanted to tell him she loved him. She wanted to say, sell the properties if you can, though she imagined the survivors would move to Nidaross and abandon Strindlos. Strindlos, without Chief Kerga and without Mother Vrya and without the meeting hall to designate the center of the village would become a ghost town, like the village never existed. She wanted to tell him to take the children to Northumbria to his family and live there, but she could not breathe. Her lungs were punctured and collapsed, so she opted just to kiss him until she passed out.

Medieval 6: K and Y 17 The Rainbow, part 1 of 2

November 26, 2024October 1, 2024M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Kirstie

The next morning, Kirstie did not feel a great deal better. She tried to shrug it off, but her heart and head knew there was more to it than that. The excited cries and shouting in the far distance woke her. She wondered if they caught the murderer. Poor Father Damien. He worked tirelessly to bring the good news to her pagan people. He seemed to be making some real headway in Nidaross and up on the Frosta Peninsula, but then he got found three days ago by the Varnes River, shredded to pieces. Some said a bear did it, but others whispered the word Hag. Kirstie thought it could not be a hag. Abraxas, the would-be-god, and hag maker was banished to the second heavens and not allowed again on the earth. It had to be something else, but what?

The shouts came again all the way from the village. She recognized that sometimes, in the right weather conditions, the sound would echo off the mountains around the fjord. Still, this was shouting and loud. She could not imagine Strindlos making all that fuss over a sail on the horizon. Old Captain Olaf was expected. She imagined it was him coming from his stop in Nidaross. She sat up with hope. Wilam stood by the window and tossed Kirstie her dress. “Hurry,” he said. “They are coming this way.”

Kirstie took a moment to reflect. That much sound coming all the way from the village suggested something more, like maybe fighting. She stood and rejected the dress. She called to her armor back and it arrived, but with the weapons all detached. She grumped and had to attach everything by hand. She just got all the blades and accoutrements exactly where she wanted them when she heard a knock on the door.

“Kirstie.” Thoren, Kare’s friend called. “You, too, Halfdan.” He called Wilam. “The council wants to see you.” Kirstie let him finish speaking before she opened the door. Inga came with Thoren, but quietly stood a step behind. She would not look up. Kirstie sneezed.

“You didn’t sail with Frode?” Kirstie asked.

Thoren shook his head. “We had a falling out. Mostly, I was not willing to move Hilda and the family to Nidaros.”

Kirstie understood. She deliberately took Wilam’s hand. “I’m ready,” she said. “Did they catch the murderer? Is there more trouble looming around on the horizon?”

Thoren laughed. “Captain Harrold asked, what murder? Does another dead Christian count?”

“Yes,” Kirstie said firmly and hit Thoren in the arm hard enough to be sure he felt it. He stopped laughing.

“A shame on our homes and hospitality.” Inga finally spoke.

“You’re right,” Thoren admitted. “But no murderers caught. It’s the bow,” he said, and then he said no more.

Kirstie did not ask.

When they arrived, Mother Vrya met them at the door and led Kirstie away from Wilam and the men, or maybe Kirstie led the crippled old woman to a seat. Captain Olaf sat there along with the captains Jarl, Harrold, Frode, and Kerga the Chief. Kirstie turned to get Inga’s attention and only then noticed Inga had moved away.

“This is foolish,” Jarl said and pointed to the rainbow clearly visible in the middle of the room. “It is a mirage, such as one sometimes sees when at sea. I can walk right through it.” He did, and Kirstie noticed the rainbow came down through the roof and shot to the floor.

“What need have we to hear from the women?” Frode wondered with a glance at Kirstie.

“I have said Inga may tell what she knows.” Kerga said, gruffly. Kirstie caught the chief looking at Mother Vrya and her slight nod in agreement.

“And I have said I will listen.” Harrold growled. “Sit down, Jarl.”

The captain sat. Brant Svenson said nothing since everyone knew of his closeness with Inga. Likewise, Olaf, now with Wilam beside him, knew it was not his village and not his turn to speak. Behind the Northumbrians, Kirstie saw Hilda and Thoren’s Erik at the front of the crowd of witnesses. Erik, seventeen-year-old, newly married, and newly accepted by Frode for a spot on Frode’s ship pulled up a spot right behind Wilam as Inga stepped up to speak.

“It was the year the Vanlil came, and the Hag drove them to war. I was eighteen, and my young charge was ten and a handful. Kirstie’s parents were already killed, but she did not know her father was also gone, and so we used to sit along the south beach as she looked for signs of a sail. I remember the day as if it was today. We were always searching the horizon and so we did not notice the boiling of the sea which began at our very feet. Soon, however, the boiling of the sea became violent in that one small place before us. Then, to my shock and near death at the sight, Njord himself rose from the waters, larger than this big house and more awesome than all the men of Valhalla put in one place.”

“Nonsense!” Jarl began, but Harrold slugged him. Harrold liked a good story, even if he did not believe a word of it.

“Kairos.” Njord spoke to the girl as you might speak to a good friend not seen in years. “Traveler.”

“Once Grandfather,” Kirstie responded with the slightest bow as if the Lord of the Seas himself deserved no more. “But why are you here? Did you not cross over with the others, ages ago?”

“More than eight hundred years ago,” the Great God spoke.

“Yes, and Old One Eye wasn’t too happy about it, I bet.”

“Frigg had to drag him,” The god said, and young Kirstie giggled. I tell you, she laughed. I did not know what to think.

Kirstie felt beet red at the moment, and surprised that Mother Vrya was not appalled at the flippant way she spoke to the god and referred to the King of the Gods as Old One Eye. Certainly, the others in the room looked appalled.

“But what are you doing here?” Kirstie continued.

“Where the Waters are, my Spirit will always linger and never be far away,” Njord spoke again. “But I am not really here. I am just reacting to the fire still loose in the world that is seeking to harm my grandson, though at the present you happen to be my granddaughter.”

“I don’t understand,” Kirstie admitted. I remind you; she was only ten.

“Just open your mouth and close your eyes and you will get a big surprise.” Njord said, and she did, trusting him with a complete trust. Then I saw the Great God change into a mighty river, then a roaring stream, and last a gentle fountain of water that filled Kirstie, entering her mouth, and vanishing away.

“The girl seemed the same after that day, but in some ways, she was also subtly changed. You know how she swims, and the cold of the waters do not harm her. You know how the fish always come when she casts her line, and how she knows the storms at sea before their time.”

“A fantasy!” Jarl interrupted.

“A fanciful tale.” Harrold agreed. “But what of the truth?”

“It is true.” Kerga astonished everyone. The room became completely still. “The good Mother Vrya and I were not far from that very spot on that day. I would even say that was a very plain telling. The truth, Harrold, was far more frightening and hard to believe even when seeing and hearing it with my own eyes and ears.”

Several people looked at Mother Vrya, but all she could do was nod her assent to what Kerga said.

“But Lord.” Inga struggled to regain the floor. “There is more.” The quiet came slowly. “I did not understand the references to Grandfather, Grandson, and Granddaughter when the words were spoken. All these years I kept those mysteries in my heart. But now, after the events of the evening when Father McAndrews came to us in peace and we brought shame on ourselves in his murder, events which I suddenly remembered in great detail when his young companion, Father Damien was most recently slain, I begin to understand. It was not Elgar the Saxon, or Mother Greta, or the good doctor, but one we have not met. My heart keeper, the beautiful Fryja was his mother, wasn’t she?” Inga and all eyes turned suddenly toward Kirstie. Where she had been embarrassed and then felt very uncomfortable. Now she felt mortified. She could not even look up.

“More than two thousand years ago,” She mumbled in utter softness.

The crowd began to make noise again, but somehow Thoren stood and said, “Wait. There is more.” He shouted in echo of Inga’s words, “There is more,” and the people quieted to hear.

Medieval 6: K and Y 16 Good Men, part 1 of 4

November 18, 2024September 30, 2024M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Kirstie

When they arrived in Strindlos, they found a whole crowd of people waiting for them. Chief Kerga was there with a few village elders, mostly men from up in the direction of Varnes. Strindlos had been bleeding people for the new town of Nidaros for some time. Chief Kerga was anxious to show that Strindlos was still a viable place to live and have a family. Trade with Northumberland looked good. Kerga and the elders gathered everything Olaf expected and a little extra to encourage him to come again.

Inga was there, Buttercup on her shoulder. She was happy to see Kirstie, Yrsa, and Soren, and acknowledged Wilam, but there was some question if maybe she was there for Brant. They hugged and held on to each other for a bit.

Hilda was there with Soren’s friend Hodur. The two boys fit right in with each other like Soren had never been away. Erik was missing, as usual, but Thoren was there which prompted a question from Kirstie that Thoren did not mind answering.

“The earl let us go, the ones who refused to act as pirates, who kept the boat while the others attacked Ellingham and Lucker. Of course, we had nowhere to go. I believe the earl considered chopping off all their heads, but in the end, he decided since they had not committed any acts of piracy against him and his islands, he would leave them go, even as you suggested, poorer, but hopefully wiser.

“Where are they now?” Kirstie asked.

“Nidaros,” Thoren said. “Kare and most of his crew have settled there.”

“And are you moving to Nidaros?” Kirstie asked outright.

Thoren looked at Hilda before he shook his head. “Kare and I had a falling out. I won’t be sailing with him anymore. I thought I might stick around here. My mother is not well, you know. That is, if Hilda doesn’t mind.”

“I don’t mind,” Hilda said and took Thoren’s arm. Her farm was not very big and not the best land, but she looked determined to make it work. “So, when are you due?” She changed the subject.

“Not for another month, at least,” Kirstie said, and only moaned a little. “Inga,” she called, and Inga separated herself from Brant.

“You look more like a month at most,” Inga said, but she smiled about it.

“I had to eat aboard ship to keep from throwing up,” Kirstie responded.

“Uh-huh,” Inga said in her most skeptical voice.

They all trooped up to Kirstie’s house, slowly to let Kirstie keep up. Alm waited there, with Gustavs, Thomas, and a very nervous Lyall who had been happily cooking and cleaning and keeping the house in order for almost a year. Thomas did his best to calm her nerves, but this would be the first time she met Kirstie, the Lady of the house, and Wilam, her Lord.

When Kirstie arrived, she reached out and carefully hugged Lyall. She said, “Welcome to my home and to the family,” and promptly turned to trudge up to the house, Inga with her. Wilam took a bit more time. He acknowledged Gustavs and Thomas and said how much he appreciated them. He also welcomed Lyall and hoped she would continue to be happy here.

Lyall looked at Thomas and smiled. “I am happy here. Thank you, thank you for buying me. This is the most wonderful place. And Thomas and Gustavs have been so kind to me. And your tenant farmers have been especially nice. I love this place. I finally feel like I have a home.” her face began to distort, and the tears came. “And I was so unhappy. But now I am happy. And it is wonderful.” That was all she could say, and Wilam waved to Thomas and pointed at Lyall. Thomas held the woman.

“Well, welcome,” Wilam said, and he also retreated to the house.

Yasmina

It was not two hours before several things happened, none of which surprised Yasmina. First and most important in Yasmina’s mind was Francesco asked her to marry him, and she said yes. She immediately questioned her choice, thinking things like how she hardly knew the man, and she needed to think, maybe pray about it, and not just let her feelings and desires rule her. She also shrugged. She said yes, so now she had to go through with it. It might not be so bad. It could be good. She looked at Francesco, thought for a second, and decided it could be very good.

Back in the real world, Captain Hazem returned with a hundred men from al-Din’s stables and house. He said more were coming. Al-Din said, “Am I paying all these people?”

“Many are camel drivers for the caravan, and sailors on your ships. You mostly pay the caravan masters and ship captains, and the rest, less. But they mostly bring goods worth more than what you pay, so you make some profit on most of these men.”

Al-Din nodded while al-Rahim set the men to defend the docks, keeping the men of Amalfi and the Vikings in reserve. Captain Frodeson said it was not the way of the Norse to hold back once the fighting started, but al-Rahim came right back at him, Aisha translating. “But for now, you have a viable trading port in Egypt. You don’t want to risk losing that by getting involved in a local trouble unless you have to. If the men of al-Din can hold off whatever palace guards or army Suffar sends, you can pretend you just watched and honestly say you did not get involved.”

“But if they go after our ship, we will defend our ship.”

“Understood.” al-Rahim said as Nasr showed up, the one Yasmina called Sharin’s boyfriend because that was all that was on her mind. He took Yasmina, Aisha, al-Rahim, Ziri, and al-Din to the gate where Harun and al-Asad where waiting. They exchanged several hugs before they all trooped into the garden area. Badroul was waiting for them, and the governor, her father, sat on the bench that Yasmina and Francesco once occupied. He looked impatient.

“Father, just another minute,” Badroul pleaded.

“I have much to do,” the governor said. “Too much to do,” he seemed to be in a daze. “Much to do,” he repeated.

Aisha and Yasmina looked at each other and said the same word. “Enchanted.”

They arrived and Badroul flew into al-Din’s arms. They got lost in each other for a long while. Al-Rahim sent Ziri, Harun, and al-Asad to watch the four corners of the garden, keeping Ziri and himself on the corners facing the palace. Aisha examined the governor and concluded.

“The enchantment is stronger than I can break.”

Yasmina expected as much. She would have to do it, but al-Rahim and the others did not need to know certain things. Long ago, more than four thousand years ago, the ancient Egyptian god Amun and the goddess from the middle east, Ishtar had a son. They named him Amun after his father, and mostly people confused him with his father, but certain people in the know, and the other gods called him Junior, a peculiar twentieth century designation. Thus was the Kairos, always mixing the past and the future, but now the Kairos was Yasmina, and she hated having to ask Junior to intervene.

“I have known you are there my whole life,” Yasmina said to herself. “But my faith is so against graven images and the idolatry of the ancient gods, I never wanted to ask for your help.”

“I understand,” Junior responded in her mind. “But I am not a graven image. I am—you are a living breathing person. What is more, I have no interest in being worshiped, but meanwhile, I can do some things to resolve this problem that you cannot do, particularly with regard to the Jinn, who may have tried to do some good at first. He sent al-Din away rather than simply killing the young man, but now he has reverted to his wicked ways and is abusing the people. The people are all dancing to his tune, wherever his twisted whims lead him. Please, may I?”

Yasmina did not argue.

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

November 13, 2024September 29, 2024M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Kirstie

Kirstie poke softly to the others. “Let’s keep all talk of the Kairos, instant changing into armor and weapons, Danna, Elgar, Mother Greta, and the rest of it, including talk of the New World between us. Remember, we caught Ulfsson in Iceland. Engel Bronson and Bieger don’t need the evidence they are looking for, and it is not that I don’t trust the king, but you never know.”

With nods of agreement, the four stepped to the dock where a delegation waited. Captain Olaf saw the local elders and leaned back. “Thomas,” he called to the man in charge of Olaf’s ship after Wilam. “Best not to let anyone on board until I get back.”

“Sir,” Thomas responded.

They crossed the dock and boarded the king’s ship being expected, though Kirstie being pregnant was not expected. They found the king seated at a table with several men hovering over his shoulders. “Olaf,” the king acknowledged the man, but his eyes never left the woman. Kirstie understood that Olaf the merchant was not only in the business of exceeding expectations, but he was also talented at getting to know people and being known while hopefully leaving those people with a good impression. She remembered Olaf, Wilam, and Brant went first to the king’s town of Kaupang when they came in search of her.

Olaf took the opening to introduce his crew. “Brant Svenson, my Skipari you may remember from our visit to Kaupang. This is Wilam Halfdansson from Northumberland, husband of the lovely Lady Kristina of Strindlos of whom you may have heard some stories.”

“Majesty,” Kirstie curtseyed as well as she could, and smiled.

“You hardly look like the maiden who held off five hundred men on Lindisfarne,” the king quipped.

“I was not exactly in this shape at that time, and dressed a bit differently,” Kirstie admitted. “But despite what you heard, it was closer to three hundred men and all I really did was explain how stupid they were being.”

The king nodded before he said, “Explain.”

“Lord. It occurred to me that Lindisfarne had been sacked several times over the last hundred years. There is not anything remaining. No gold, silver, or jewels of any kind. There is only a strong attachment to the place by the people of Northumbria, which includes Wessex, and the people of Danelaw that have converted to this Christian faith. Any attack on Lindisfarne at this point will be like an attack on the heart of the people. It occurred to me my king does not need to trigger a war with Wessex, which is Saxony, or Danelaw, which is Denmark, or both. But that is what such an attack by Norwegians might do. I explained how stupid the men were being, and fortunately convinced enough to come over to my side to prevent the attack. I only had to kill one man.”

“Stupid,” the king said. “That is exactly what I was thinking when I heard about it. I might have taken Ulf’s head if you did not save me the trouble. But now tell me, how is it a young woman like you got involved in fighting in the first place?”

“My father,” Kirstie answered. “He had no son. He was Arne the Navigator and sailed with Captain Sten Troelsson with Captain Birger and Captain Kerga out of Strindlos under Hakon Grjotgardsson. They fought for you, my father Arne and his two companions Haken and Thorbald.”

The king held up his hand for quiet. He had to think, to remember. “I vaguely recall a Captain Birger out of Trondelag. He was wounded in the battle, but he refused to stop fighting. There were real men in those days. He must be my age now. How is he?”

Kirstie shook her head. “Sadly, he died in the invasion of the Jamts. He fought bravely to the end. Captain Kerga is now Chief in Strindlos. He was wounded in the battle against the Jamts.”

“You were there?”

Kirstie nodded. “They killed my family and I got angry. I was just ten years old, but my father taught be how to shoot a bow and hold a knife and shield. He also taught me how to navigate, which is why I sailed on several trading expeditions, down the Danish coast to Frisia, Normandy, and to Northumbria. In the end, I married a navigator. Wilam Halfdansson.”

Olaf stepped forward and ratted on Wilam. “Wilam is the last son of Halfdan Ragnarsson. He was conceived just before the chief went off to Ireland and got himself killed.”

The king looked closely at Wilam before he spoke. “A fitting husband for the maid of Lindisfarne.” he said, before he had another thought. “You show remarkable courage and sense for a woman, and your husband certainly has the blood in his veins. How would you like me to make him the Jarl of Trondelag?” A man tapped the king on his shoulder, but the king waved him off.

“Oh, no, please, your majesty,” Kirstie spoke right up. “That would involve headaches and trouble such as I cannot imagine. With all due respect, I sometimes feel sorry for you and all the headaches you must put up with. If it is all the same, I have some property, a couple of tenants, a couple of thralls. We hope to raise a family and live a nice, quiet, peaceful life.”

“Like I said, remarkable good sense for a woman. Anyway, I promised to make Sigurd Hakonsson Jarl when he comes of age.”

“And I hope Sigurd and I may one day become friends.”

“I hope that as well. Meanwhile, I fully expect you to stir up some men and ships for the effort against the Geats and Danes. They are taking more and more land which is not theirs to take.”

“Why not make an alliance with the Swedes?” Kirstie asked. “My mother was Swedish. I may have some relatives there I might cultivate and see if they are in a position to support the idea of an alliance.”

The king waved off her idea, but then spoke to the point. “I have considered giving them Jamtaland for their cooperation.”

“Oh, no. Pain though they are, you might save the Jamts for a bigger need. Right now, I know the Swedes have their own complaints against the Geats, and maybe the Danes as well. If presented in the right way, they might ask you to make an alliance with them against their enemies. Let the Swedes know how unhappy you are with the Geats and Danes and how you are thinking you may have to go to war against them. Let them think about it, and they may ask you to ally with them against a common enemy, or at least they might ask if they can join you in the effort.”

The king smiled. “Thank you for the visit,” he said. “Lady Kristina of Strindlos. So you know, I am not disappointed.”

Kirstie curtseyed as well as she could again. “Majesty.” And she hustled the men away from there while the king stood and yelled.

“Why didn’t one of you think of that? Stupid. I’m surrounded by stupid.” He continued to yell in a most colorful way, but Kirstie chose not to listen. Besides, Olaf was already headed toward the town elders. He would trade for the other half of Birdla’s portion and point out they had said they would not be back for two years, but they had a bit this trip if Borgund was interested. This time, the big jerk who wanted everything for nothing was not around, so Olaf managed a fair trade. The elder’s looked like they dare not try to cheat the man right under the king’s nose, and especially since he and the king seemed to be on good relations.

~~~*~~~

Two days later, the ship pulled into Husatadlr where they made a good trade in the past. Kirstie was surprised to see a longship in port. This close to the Trondelag, Kirstie wondered if she might know where the ship hailed from. She felt even more surprised when she found out.

“Liv?”

“You started it,” Liv said. “I’m sailing out of Varnes, but it is the same thing.”

“Not the same,” Kirstie insisted. “I was trained to be a navigator like my father. Your father was a middle rower. No offense, but not something to aspire to.”

“I don’t care about my father,” she said. “Besides, I never row. This is my ship. I captain and all these men work for me.”

Kirstie raised her eyebrows. Liv was not that good looking. “How did you manage that?” Owning a ship was an expensive proposition. Sometimes men had to pool their money to be able to buy a ship.

“That isn’t important,” Liv said. “Now, I have to talk to the chiefs.” she began to walk off, four big men surrounding her like she was some queen or something. “It was good seeing you.”

Olaf had to wait. Brant asked a question as he and Wilam came to her side.

“What was that all about?”

“I’m not sure,” Kirstie said. “But there is something wrong about the whole thing.”

Yrsa spoke up as she joined them, holding Soren’s hand. “I felt it too. Something is not right there.”

Kirstie shrugged. “Liv was always a bit strange, even from the beginning.”

Wilam smiled. “Says the woman who in her own way is the strangest person on earth.”

Kirstie slipped her arm around Wilam’s waist. “So, I know what I am talking about.,” she said, looked him in the eye, and stuck her tongue out at him.

When Olaf finally got a chance to talk to the village elders, even as Liv’s longship sailed off, he found them very different from the time he came before. They looked for every flaw they could find in his tools and even pointed to things that were not necessarily flaws. They offered half of what Olaf expected. He said that was not a good way to do business if they expected him to return. He showed them a crate of glass goblets bound for Strindlos, and some of the bolts of died linen. A couple of the more sensible elders agreed to double the offer if he threw in a few bolts of linen. A deal was struck, but Olaf was not entirely happy.

“Something changed,” he said.

“Liv,” Kirstie answered, but did not explain.

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

MONDAY

The trouble with success is it breeds high expectations. Kirstie gets roped into raising an army while Yasmina is raising some fighters of her own. Monday. Happy Reading.

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

November 11, 2024September 29, 2024M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Kirstie

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What happened to Birdie?” Ecgberht asked.

“She had to go home,” Kirstie answered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do what?” Kirstie asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

October 29, 2024September 29, 2024M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Kirstie

“But, Mary Katherine,” Wilam said.

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

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

“He had a name?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How so?” Captain Olaf wondered.

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

“I count seven redfish,” Wilam pointed out.

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

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

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

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

“The storm is coming,” the clouds spoke.

“We cannot stop it.”

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

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

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

“May it be enough.”

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

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

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

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

October 22, 2024September 28, 2024M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Kirstie

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No. Not so long.” The men agreed.

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

“We will have them surrounded,” Wilam said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Lord,” Hassel acknowledged Wilam.

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

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

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

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

October 21, 2024September 28, 2024M G Kizzia Leave a comment

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 7 Unexpected Guests, part 2 of 2

October 7, 2024August 11, 2024M G Kizzia Leave a comment

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.

Storyteller Tales & Thoughts

Stories and reflections on storytelling

Vikings

Medieval 6: Giovanni 11 And the Wolv, part 1 of 2

Medieval 6: K and Y 20 End and Beginning, part 1 of 2

Kirstie

Medieval 6: K and Y 17 The Rainbow, part 1 of 2

Kirstie

Medieval 6: K and Y 16 Good Men, part 1 of 4

Kirstie

Yasmina

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

Kirstie

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

Kirstie

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

Kirstie

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

Kirstie

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

Kirstie

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

Kirstie