Volva

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

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Kirstie

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not nearly enough.” The priest admitted.

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

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

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

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

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

“So?” Kerga did not understand.

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

“What do they prattle about?” Kerga guessed.

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

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

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

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

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

“Some other day, perhaps,” she said.

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

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

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

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Kirstie

Kare tried. Kirstie could tell. He tried really hard to be good, but it was not in him. He was a demanding kind of person who had little sensitivity for those he considered beneath him. Kirstie and Kare argued from the beginning. She had to regularly remind him that she was not his thrall. Alm, the head elf, Yrsa’s husband, had a long talk with the man one afternoon, and after that, he left Alm and the volunteer elves completely alone, and he avoided Yrsa as much as possible.

Birdie the dwarf wife ignored the man. She kept working her loom and ignored everything he said. Kare eventually figured the old woman had to be deaf, and she was not worth bothering with.

Fiona, Kirstie’s thrall, and her boys Oswald, Edwin, and baby Sibelius were a special problem. Vortesvin scared Kare to death every time their paths crossed. Kare saw Vortesvin as a giant, which was bad enough. Kare never pierced the glamour that Vortesvin wore, which was just as well. The giant looked like an extra tall human, and his mind could discount much of what was seen. Seeing the actual troll might have caused Kare to run off screaming. Several times Kirstie thought that might be worth it. Of course, the fact that Kare could not see the troll told Kirstie, and everyone else who knew about such things, that much as she tried, Kirstie could not find any love for Kare. The elves, dwarfs, fairies, trolls, and all the rest of the little ones Kirstie had responsibility for would not harm Kare in any way, since he was her husband, but they would not be inclined to be kind to the man either.

Fiona and the boys were tied to Vortesvin, which frustrated Kare. The boys were learning to work the farm and did a good job for their young ages. Kare figured the older they got, the better they would work. He seriously thought about selling them for the money. Kirstie could just cover the work with her friends, as she called them. Vortesvin was the only snag in the scheme. The giant was not his to sell, and he figured Sibelius, the giant’s child might fall into that category. Though Sibelius was also the child of Fiona, so he might be counted as a thrall. Kare would have to find out the rules about such things.

~~~*~~~

Around the first of July, Kirstie confirmed that she was pregnant. She felt certain when she missed her period for the second time in the middle of the month. Her childhood friend Hilda became pregnant around the same time and she and Thoren, Kare’s friend, were excited. Kirstie and Kare argued to the point where Kirstie would not let him touch her. Kirstie blamed her one-night-stand honeymoon. Anyway, Inga confirmed the diagnosis.

“That will put my baby’s birthday around March first,” Kirstie said.

“More like the middle of March,” Inga countered. “Same as Hilda.”

“The ides of March. How appropriate,” Kirstie said, without explaining.

“Anyway,” Inga continued. “By mid-March, the days should begin to warm, and in the spring, there should be plenty to eat after the slim winter. You might not have to worry about such things, but many families do. Most of the children who die in their first year are the ones born from November to February when food is scarce.

~~~*~~~

Kirstie and Inga went to visit Hilda, and Hilda came running to hug them both. Hilda was so happy. Kirstie tried extra hard not to be jealous. She felt bad about saying something to break the good feelings.

“Have you heard from Liv?”

“That was the most terrible thing,” Hilda said. “When you were on your way home, Liv’s farm got attacked and both her mother and father were slaughtered, torn to pieces, and Liv was the only survivor. I understand she was covered in the blood of her parents, which Chief Kerga says is why the killers did not kill her. She looked like she was already dead.”

“They never found who did it, or why,” Inga added.

“Some of the men think it was an animal, like a monster bear. Mother Vrya says there is more to it than that, but she does not know what.”

“And she moved in with cousins in Varnes?” Kirstie wanted to get the story straight.

“Yes, she did,” Hilda said. “And no, I have not heard anything from her lately.”

~~~*~~~

 After hugging her friend and wishing her the best, Kirstie went with Inga to visit the Witcher Women. Mother Vrya was resting. She did that more and more as she aged, but when they came in, she sat up and said something Inga and Kirstie did not know. “Look at you,” she said to Kirstie. “Eighteen. All grown up, and married, and now going to have a baby. You know, I was married once.”

Inga and Kirstie looked at each other. They could not picture it. “Yes,” Mother Vrya insisted. “We were in love. We had no children, and I do not think my husband was unhappy, but when the call to arms went out from the sons of Ragnar Lodbrok, he answered the call. He did not live long. I grieved terribly. I went up into the mountains and thought to throw myself off from the highest cliff, but there, the spirits came to me, and I found myself.”

“Inga. You sing to the earth and the sky, and the great spirits of the old ways listen. I do not speak of the little spirits of the earth, air, fire, and water that follow Kirstie around, but the great spirits of old, even Mother Freyja herself. You are brilliant, quick to grasp many things and your understanding of much surpasses my own, but still, you have not found yourself. One day, perhaps. I ask the Mother Goddess of all the Volva to be gracious to you.”

“Kirstie.” Mother Vrya paused as if she could not quite reach the thing she was after. “Kristina. A name not known among the people. Your good mother named you after the new way unknown to us. She was a light in this dark world and the whole community mourned when she was taken from us.” She paused again to frame her words. “You know things only the gods know. I have seen it in the wind, the clouds, and the stars. And yet, I do not know if you will ever find yourself. You have been given too much for a young child. Too much is expected from you, and you expect too much from yourself. Much too much.” Mother Vrya shut her eyes and laid back down, turning on her side to turn her back to them.

Inga and Kirstie got the message. They left quietly and went to the cooking fire of the Witcher Women. The fairies Buttercup and Daphne were arguing about something. The poor old widow was trying to cook and keep her ears plugged at the same time. Kirstie pointed at Buttercup, the poor old woman, and Daphne in that order, and she named them. “Bubble-bubble, toil, and trouble.”

“I’m not trouble,” Daphne insisted.

“You are if you won’t let this poor woman do her work.”

“But it needs more salt,” Daphne said.

“It has too much salt,” Buttercup countered.

“You need to let the cook decide that.” Kirstie said. “You need to come with us. My baby is telling me we need to go home and rest for a bit. Besides,” Kirsti spoke to Buttercup. “Meriwood is missing you.”

“I know,” Buttercup responded. “But he is hunting with Alm and the boys right now. I don’t want to watch.”

Daphne flew straight to Kirstie’s belly, and Buttercup joined her. Kirstie felt the warmth as the fairies reached out to touch the baby inside her without actually touching her. “Maybe it is a girly,” Daphne said.

“No,” Buttercup countered. “She is having a boy.”

“Do you want to know what your baby will be?” Daphne asked, though the fairies already told her several times.

Kirstie turned to Inga. “Just as well,” she said. “I don’t think Kare could handle a girl.”

Inga understood, and they trudged back to Kirstie’s home.

Medieval 5: K and Y 2 Gifts of the Gods, part 3 of 3

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Kirstie turned in the doorway and smiled. “I have a whole week.” She paused. Inga tried to return her smile but looked worried. “A week,” Kirstie said softly before she shouted, “Only a week! Where is Mother Vrya?”

Inga shook her head as she answered. “In the big house with Chief Birger and the men deciding what to do about the Vanlil.”

“Only a week,” Kirstie repeated and this time she grabbed Inga’s hand. “Come on.” She started toward the big house and Inga did not resist. Inga had too many questions and decided to stick with Kirstie until she got some answers.

When they burst into the middle of the meeting, Kirstie shouted, and the men paused to listen except for one man who said, “You girls don’t belong here right now.” Mother Vrya looked ready to say something, but the room quieted to utter stillness when Kirstie called and instantly got clothed in her armor, weapons included. Then Elgar urged her to let him speak to the men, and Kirstie, not entirely willingly, stepped away and let Elgar take her place. Kirstie knew the men would not really listen to a girl, and she was only ten years old besides.

When the young girl disappeared and a full-grown man, and a fighter by the look of him arrived in her place, most of the men in the room imagined it was one of the gods. They grew silent, and many became too frightened to talk.

Elgar started right in, giving the men little time to adjust to his presence or what just happened. “I am Elgar the Saxon,” he said in Kirstie’s Nordic language, and he paused to let them swallow. “I have come to tell you we only have a week to come to the aid of the king’s house and the town on the Nid River. The exiled chiefs and men, together with their Jamt-Vanlil allies, are gathering and will be attacking the king’s place and the town in a week.”

The room erupted with voices and questions. The men had assumed the Vanlil raided the villages on the eastern shore and raced back over the mountains with their plunder. They were talking about setting a watch in the hills and maybe gathering men to invade Jamtaland. They were not thinking this was an army invading them. Finally, one voice rose above the others and the rest quieted to hear the answer.

“How do you know this?” the man asked.

“This word comes from the god Fryer directly to Kirstie’s ears.” He looked at the faces around him. Curiously, he saw Mother Vrya and the men of Strindlos had no trouble believing him. The outsiders were not convinced.

“No god would lower himself to appear as a Saxon,” one man said rather loudly.

“Are you a goder?” a different man asked if Elgar was a priest.

“Who is Kirstie?” a third man asked.

“Yes, where did that girl go, anyway?” Captain Kerga asked at the same time.

Elgar answered the questions as well as he could. “No, I am not a priest, and where Kirstie went is a very complicated question. Let us just say she left the building.”.

“If not a goder, are you some kind of messenger of the gods?” One man tried to make sense of the conflicting ideas in the room.

“Elgar,” Mother Vrya interrupted everyone, and the men quieted out of respect for the Volva. “These men are from Varnes. That captain is from Oglo. Those two are from the Frosta peninsula, and those two have come all the way from Olvishaugr if you saw the karve in the dock. What is it you recommend?”

Chief Birger thought to interrupt to clarify the discussion up to that point. “We have been discussing gathering our men to strike back at the Vanlil in some way.”

Elgar shook his head. “Not and leave an enemy at your back.” He moved a bench and a chair and explained his makeshift map. “This bench is the Nid River. The town is here at the mouth of the river. The king’s house is here. Mother Vrya is standing in the fjord. I propose we take our footmen and whatever horsemen we can gather and cross the land on the afternoon six days from today. We set a camp and be well fed and rested in the morning while we scout out the enemy positions. If the town is holding out against them, we may have to adjust things, but my guess is they may be around the king’s house, if they have not burned it to the ground by then.”

The men in the room tried to grasp the ideas, and one of the outsider captains asked a pertinent question. “Why don’t we attack them at sundown and catch them by surprise?”

“Men who are hungry and tired do not fight well,” Elgar said, giving the answer he had given more than once in the past to other kings and chiefs. “If we are careful in the night, we might still surprise them at dawn. We will look for where they are vulnerable and attack at sunup. Our job will be to drive them to the sea. I expect every karve and longship we have to arrive in the third hour. No later than the fourth hour. We will have the enemy surrounded and some of them may choose to surrender. That’s okay. Let them surrender. Let the king decide whether to chop off their heads or not. After we protect our own, we can talk about an attack on the Jamts of Jamtaland if you will.”

Men stood around quietly staring at the bench and chairs. No one raised an objection to what he said, so Elgar spoke up again. “The ships need to be full of fighting men, but we need as many men here on foot and horseback to assault the enemy and drive them to the docks by the sea.” He waited another moment before he turned to the men from other towns. “Well? You best get going. Today is day one and that does not give much time to gather your men and get them here by the morning of the sixth day.”

Chief Birger grunted and nodded and made no objection. He waved like giving permission, and the foreign men hurried from the big house. The local men stayed a bit longer while the chief asked. “So, Saxon. I hope for your sake your information is correct.”

“The gods have been known to mislead people at times,” Elgar admitted and saw Mother Vrya nod in agreement. “But not this time. This information was unsolicited. Kirstie did not ask for this. Rather, the god Fryer dumped it on her and said she only had a week, and good luck.”

The men there all knew Kirstie, and they knew and respected her father and mother. They did not really doubt the veracity of the god, or that he might select someone like Kirstie to speak with, but at the same time, Captain Kerga had another question. “And what will you be doing while we prepare for battle?”

Elgar smiled and said, “I intend to get well rested.” He traded places with Kirstie, which looked like the man vanished and the young girl took his place, the armor instantly adjusting to Kirstie’s slim, beanpole body. “I’m going to sleep. I have a lot to think about,” she said, and added, “Weapons go home.” Her weapons vanished and she grabbed Inga’s hand. “Come on.”

Inga had no intention of going anywhere else. She stepped up beside Kirstie and said, “So, Fryer?”

Kirstie simply nodded.

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MONDAY

Kirstie finds a little help for the coming battle, and Yasmina is scared to death and worried about a ten-year-old going to war. Until then, Happy Reading

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