by Jada Turner
When the sun was at the highest point in the sky he wandered back to where he left the crew that morning. They were all awake and look confused and concerned.
“Andor! Wow, we thought you were gone! Where is Astrid?”
He took a deep breath and with a forced calm voice he said, “she’s gone. She had to move on. Kristoff and Finn will be here sometime this evening. Sober up, my mother shouldn’t have to see men looking as disheveled as this.
All the men scrambled to wash up, splashing ocean water on their faces and organizing the mugs that were thrown about the fire circle.
Part XIII
Just as the sun began to set, the ship appeared on the horizon. The men on the beach cheered loudly at the sight of it. Finally, they had proof that this wasn’t just a ploy.
Back on the ship the men cheered as well.
“What’s all the ruckus?” asked their mother.
“Let me check.” Finn left her bedside and walked up onto to deck. Kristoff walked over to him and gave him a solid pat on the back.
“We made it. We did it.”
The two brothers stood watching the shore come closer and closer until finally Andor was in sight. He stood at the shore line smiling back at them. Finn and Kristoff waved, then retreated below the deck to help their mother onto the deck so that she could watch as they docked. There was huge smile on her face when she finally saw her third son and the smile was reflected back at her.
Finally, the whole family was together, just as their father wished.
*****
THE END
Kidnapped By A Viking
CHAPTER ONE
Rain splattered on the thatched roof with a constant rhythm. Aife shut her eyes and listened to the gentle noise, letting it lull her into complete relaxation. The harvest season was slowly winding down, and her father was anxious to have her married come winter. She tried to imagine what her husband would be like, hoping that he would be strong, kind, and care for her. Maybe she would be sent to an entirely new village, perhaps in the lowlands, to live a brand new life with her future family. As long as it got her far away from the Herbrides. It was always cold, wet, and miserable here, and she heard that the Northmen were planning on invading here next. She shuddered at the thought, recalling the tales she'd heard about the Northmen.
All of them were as large, brutish, and hairy as bears, or so she'd heard. They followed strange heathen gods and took any woman they chose by force to be their wives. The idea of such a barbaric foreigner taking her before she could get away sent a chill up her spine. It made falling asleep impossible. She sat up, her long red hair falling to her waist in perfect ringlet curls. Some men in the village had told Aife that she was very beautiful, but she had never really believed them. Her body was taller than most other women is her village, and appeared very lithe and graceful. Father and mother were talking with each other in hushed voices next to the hearth fire, and Aife tried to pay them little mind. She pulled her shawl slightly closer to her chest as a cool breeze swept through their single roomed home.
"Aife, come here," her father suddenly motioned over to her. She complied.
"Your mother and I have been talking, and we both think that it's time you be wed. There is a rich landowner I know in Orkney, he's a lesser lord and he has a son. I think it would be best if you marry him. He's a good match, and his father wants him married off as soon as possible."
Aife's heart sank. She had wanted so badly to travel to the lowlands and marry a merchant or a more well off man. All the same, she had to do as her father commanded of her. A twinge of fear swept through her as she remembered that Orkney was full of Northmen.
Her father continued, "I've already received the proposal. I will take you to Orkney myself within the fortnight. Don't worry my dear, I'm sure this young man will care for you deeply," he kissed her on the forehead before heading back outdoors.
Aife didn't know whether she had ought to feel happy or cry her heart out. She knew being married before winter would be what was best for her family, but the last thing she wanted was to leave, especially to a place as far north as Orkney. Her mother tried to offer her a small comfort:
"You know, I had never even met your father before our wedding day. Love grows with time."
Somehow it didn't help. Aife spent the next two weeks in a haze. Each day was the same and each night she couldn't wait to just fall asleep and forget. It didn't take long to pack her few belongings when the day came, and her father didn't say a word to her as they both mounted their horses and set off for the far north. The further north they went, the thicker the morning mists would become, as though they were trying to swallow Aife's dreams for her life whole.
The journey itself was uneventful, and Aife was tired when they finally road into Orkney. They reached the village of her betrothed, and her father was finally kind enough to introduce her to him.
"Seamus, it is good to see you. This is my daughter, Aife," he helped her off her horse.
Seamus was a thin young man, nothing like his burly father, next to whom he looked like a twig. His head was topped with hair that was the colour and texture of straw, and his eyes were a deep brown as though they were made from the earth. At the least, they looked kind. His face was angular and sharp with an aquiline nose. He wasn't ugly, but he wasn't the strong, handsome husband Aife had one day dreamed of marrying either. He gazed deeply at Aife, as though he were looking at an angel.
"My lady," he gasped, "you are an absolute delight to me." He gently kissed her hand.
"I'm not a lady though," Aife replied.
"All the same, you will be soon," Seamus smiled broadly.
His father chuckled, "He already seems very taken with you. You and your father will spend the night here tonight, and we shall have the wedding tomorrow morning."
Aife sighed, feeling utterly powerless, "I'd like to retire to my room if you don't mind," she said, "it's been a really long ride."
Seamus looked a bit taken aback, but nodded his head, "Yes, yes, of course. Let me show you to it."
The room was small, with just a simple feather bed in the far corner underneath the window, a basin for washing, and a small fireplace. Seamus's family was fairly wealthy, the house was larger than anything Aife had ever seen in her life. At the least, her father was right. She would be well cared for here, even if she didn't particularly care for her future husband right now. After all, she didn't even know him and she had no desire to live this far north.
"I'll have one of the maids bring you some fresh linens," Seamus shuffled his feet before leaving Aife to her own devices. Alone now, she sat down on the bed and could barely restrain the tears which flowed silently down her cheeks. How could the day she's waited for all her life already be going so completely wrong?
The maid was courteous enough to knock before she entered. "May I come in, my lady?" she asked hesitantly.
"I'm not a la-" she started.
The maid interrupted, "No, not yet, my apologies. But you will be tomorrow. Oh, this is such an exciting time! We've all been anxious for Seamous to finally find himself a nice wife so he can carry on his father's legacy. Everyone is terribly excited for tomorrow." She held a bundle of fresh linens in her hands, they looked immensely comfortable.
Aife stood so the maid could make the bed. The girl was around her age, with her auburn hair tied tightly into a neat bun at the back of her head. Her clothes were clean, in a style suited to a servant of even a small scale lord, but they weren't by any means fancy.
"I almost forgot!" she suddenly quipped before racing out of the room. Moments later, she returned with a long silver gown. The sleeves extended long past the waist, and lace embroidered and embellished the entire thing. It shone and seemed to change colours depending on the light, almost seeming to take on a mild purple hue from certain angles. The attached veil was fitted with a silver tiara covered in precious gemstones.
"When the young lord heard that his father had finally
found him a bride, he went to the finest seamstress in the village and had this commissioned himself. Just for you, my lady. Do you like it?" the maid asked her expectantly.
"It's.. it's beautiful." Aife said, brushing her fingers gently across the fabric.
The maid beamed with joy, "I'll be sure to let Seamus know that you like it! Please, join us for supper in a few hours if you feel up to it, my lady." she curtsied before finally leaving Aife alone with her thoughts.
Aife shut the door to the rooms and hung the dress up on it. Lying down on the bed, she stared at it for a long while before finally falling into a deep sleep. Her dreams were punctuated by the dress and the way that it shone it the sunlight.
CHAPTER TWO
Moonlight was shining through the window when Aife awoke, and it was flickering with a strange orange hue. Groggy, she sat up on the bed and struggled to straighten her hair. Cold stew sat undisturbed on the small table by the basin. It must have been there for several hours at the minimum. A loud crash brought Aife abruptly out of her haze. She spun on her heels quickly and saw a large man standing in her doorway. It gave her a start, and her eyes struggled to adjust.
Before she could understand who it was she was looking at, the man had already crossed the room to grab her. Aife screamed and beat against him with her fists, struggling to get away. The man subdued her without any effort at all, and forced her down on the featherbed with his hand over Aife's mouth.
"Shhh..." he cautioned, "you don't want my friends to think you're fair game," he warned her in heavily accented Gaelic. His flesh was coarse but strangely warm and comforting.
"If I let you go, will you promise not to scream or run?"
She nodded meekly and whimpered. He released his grasp, and lingered over her just a moment too long before finally rising and helping her to her feet off the bed, still holding her hands.
"My name is Erik," he stated, "you're going to come with me if you want to stay safe."
She nodded again, and he hoisted her up over his shoulder. Aife would have been fine to just walk, but she wasn't about to argue with her captor. Outside the house, the raid was still going on in full swing. The lords soldiers were trying their best to fight off the attackers, but it was to absolutely no avail. Some women were taken on the spot, but most of the raiders were far more interested in stealing the riches of the town. Aife scanned her eyes across her field of vision searching for any sign of her father, but she couldn't see him. Whether he was alive or dead, she hadn't the slightest idea. Even if he was there, she was too blinded by the fires and the confusion.
"Haha, saving one for later?" Aife heard someone ask Erik.
"She's mine, hands off, Sven," Erik replied ferociously. Terror shot through Aife's heart as it finally dawned on her. Her captor was a Northman. One of the dangerous, bloodthirsty barbarians that she had been so afraid of. What was going to happen to her? Was she going to be made into a slave? A concubine? She started to cry.
"Stop that," Erik snapped. "You're going to get their attention."
Aife quieted down, but she still cried even when Erik bound her hands with rope, placed her on a stolen horse, and led her back to his village. A nearby rooster croaked the arrival of dawn when they finally made it back to Erik's home. He picked her back up off the horse as though he were handling a doll, and led her by the ropes which bound her hands into his home. Setting her down on the settee, he began emptying his other bags and taking stock of his new treasures. Silver and gold jewels littered the floor, including the crown that would have held her wedding veil on her head.
Sheer exhaustion was beginning to take her, and she took it upon herself to lay down into the furs. Softness and warmth were small comforts.
"Are you going to rape me?" she finally worked up the courage to ask, her entire body shaking and trembling.
Erik looked offended, "No, I'm not going to rape you, little bird."
Now that it was daylight, Aife finally had a chance to get a better look at her kidnapper. He was tall, almost like a giant, standing several heads taller than Seamus had. His white tunic barely contained his bulging, heavily tattooed arms and great muscled chest. Long, black hair tumbled wild past his shoulders punctuated by multiple ornamental braids, and a well groomed beard clung to his face. Deep blue eyes, like the roaring oceans off the coast of the Herbrides stared at her with an intense passion from across the room. He placed his heavy fur cloak over her,
"You look cold."
"Th- thank you," she stuttered, pulling the cloak close to her chest and her face. It smelled of heavy Earth and smoke.
It came to her to ask, "How do you speak Gaelic so well?"
Erik chuckled, "I've been living in this country, mostly at least, for three years, little bird. It would do me well to be able to talk to people."
That made some sense. The fur cloak and settee was starting to warm Aife's bones, and she was slowly beginning to relax. The more she gazed at Erik, the more at ease she began to feel. Something about him was so utterly alluring to her. Every one of his features seemed as though it had been chiseled from the hardest of stones.
Erik stood up, the light from the windows revealing his washboard abs through his tunic. "Would you like something to eat, little bird?"
Aife nodded. It was strange, being called "little bird", but at the same time it was completely endearing.
It wasn't long before Erik produced some fresh soup and bread for her. "Please," he gave her the bowl and a wooden spoon, taking care to cut her binds with a small knife, "my home is your home for as long as you stay here."
"Are you going to let me go?" Aife was hopeful.
Erik sighed, "If that is your wish, I will not stop you. You're a free woman, and can do as you wish. I would ask you not to, though. Some of my tribesmen... they are not so nice to beautiful women such as yourself. Not only that, little bird. They are almost certainly going to attack your village again within the next moon."
"It wasn't my village," Aife confided, "I was there to marry the son of the village's Lord."
"I see," Erik said, "would you like to return? I didn't mean to take a woman from her betrothed. I can take you back to your love today."
Aife shook her head, "I didn't want to marry him. My father was making me. It was to make the lord give my real village food for the winter. He couldn't find his son a noble woman for a wife, otherwise I would still be at home."
"I hate that about this country!" Erik sputtered, "No woman should be sold off like such cattle. You Scots call us barbarians, bah! I'm not so sure."
She didn't know what to say to that, and instead took a few bites of her stew. It was hearty and thick, much like the man who made it. The gravy was much thicker than the greuls she was accustomed to, and filled to the brim with chunks of mutton, potatoes, and carrots. It even had sprigs of green herbs stirred throughout it. Unfamiliar textures and flavours overwhelmed her. When she finished, she set the empty bowl down on the oaken table.
"Thank you, Erik. That was amazing,"
"You're very welcome," suddenly it dawned on him, "I just realized, I have't asked your name, little bird. I'm sorry."
"My name is Aife," she told him.
"Then allow me to welcome you to my home, Aife. I would ask you, as a free woman, would you like to stay here with me, at least for a time?"
The deep sadness Aife had been feeling since she was told she had to come to Orkney washed over her soul again. "I don't think there's anything left for me in the village. I suppose that I could. Just for a little while."
Erik's face seemed to light up, "You'll have nothing to fear as long as you stay." Gently, he kissed her hand. "My house is a bit smaller than the Lords house in the village, but I do have a room for you. You could also stay with Bryhildr, my neighbour, if that would maybe make you more comfortable."
Aife was still anxious and the thought of living in a house alone with a man, especially a stranger, filled her with nervousness. He seemed to pick up on her anxieties,
"I swear by every god and my ancestors, I will never bring you harm. That being said, I have a lock that you can use for the inside of the door if that will relieve your nervousness. You are my guest. I cannot bring you harm, nor can anyone else in this village so long as you're under my protection. Do you have guest right in this country?"
Aife meekly nodded. Guest right was sacred in the highlands, and it had been since time immemorial. Harming a guest under your roof was worse than murder. One couldn't even turn away a wayward traveler without bringing scorn down upon oneself.
"Then you know that my word is my bond."
Erik took her hand and helped her up off the settee, his cloak still wrapped around her shoulders. Briskly, he led her to the room that he promised. It was a stark contrast to the stone of the room Seamus had given her. Soft furs in greys, browns, and cold covered the wooden bed and the walls, and the entire room, like the house, was constructed of large oak logs. A shield hung on the far wall near the small stone fireplace, and a carved idol sat on top of the heart. She walked over to it and held it in her hands. The idol was of a gorgeous woman sitting on a throne flanked by cats.
"Freyja," Erik explained, "our goddess of love and beauty. You remind me of her, actually."
Aife smiled, thinking it quaint. She set the statue down and laid on the bed. Sleep took her almost at the same second her head hit the pillow. It may have been a dream, but she could have sworn that she felt a kiss on her forehead.
Several hours later, she awoke at it was midday. A basin had been set next to the hearth, along with a jewelled brush. The bristles caused her curls to become frizzy, so she was forced to wash it and her face in the basin. Once she was clean of last nights terror and sleep, she started to feel much better. Strangely, Erik's home exuded an aura of complete peace that she had never felt before. She smoothed her clothes before exiting the room.
Erik was sitting next to his main hearth enjoying a draught of ale from a large home. Another man, and a woman, sat next to him laughing with horns of their own. None of them noticed Aife at first, and she was able to watch them for some time. Their speech was in their own foreign tongue, and she didn't really understand any of it. Some of the words seemed similar to Scots, however, so she wasn't utterly lost.