by Hill Sandra
“With those shoulders, she could no doubt pull a longship herself,” his father muttered under his breath.
“Delightful to meet you, Bergdis,” his mother spoke up before his father said any louder what he was thinking.
“Solveig is the mistress of shipwrighting, having been trained by her father, who was an expert shipwright.”
Solveig beamed at Thork for the compliment, and for not having mentioned how long it was taking to build their own longship.
“Impressive,” Tykir admitted grudgingly.
“Liv is the mistress of healing. Freyja, mistress of hunt and fish. Lilli, mistress of indoor stewardship . . . cooking, laundry, and the like. Do not be scowling so, Henry. Everyone knows you have first dibs on the fair Lilli.”
“Good gods! The pirate women have been seducing you men,” his father remarked with disgust.
“Not all of us!” Jostein and Bolthor said as one.
“They want our man seed and that is all,” Alrek revealed, then ducked his shoulders when he saw the attention he had garnered.
His mother arched a brow at Thork, wondering exactly what he had done, probably assuming he had spread his man seed far and wide. Nay, just in one womb. Possibly.
“By the by, Bolthor,” his mother said. “Your wife is looking for you. Lady Katherine sent a longship to Hedeby to see if you might be there.”
“I am dead. Dead, dead, dead,” Bolthor moaned, putting two hands to his heart. “If she finds out where I am, on an island of women, I might as well just lie down and die.”
Thork grinned at Bolthor’s dramatics. “Finally, this is Elida, mistress of threads and an archer-in-training. She is the one who managed to shoot you in the thigh, Guthrom.”
Guthrom cut a scowl at Elida, promising retribution later.
Elida just gave him an embarrassed wave and confessed, “I was aiming for your belly.”
Guthrom exhaled with a loud whoosh of disgust.
And his father chuckled, “Good thing she did not hit those manparts you are always bragging on, Guthrom.”
“Then I would ne’er have any grandchildren from you,” his mother added, also with a chuckle.
“Not to fear! You could have hired yourself out as a eunuch in one of those eastern harems,” Starri offered.
“You always said you wanted to check out some harems, Guth.” This from Selik, who had grown into a man since Thork had been gone.
Guthrom was not amused by any of it.
That was the way with his family. A conversation started on one subject and always veered off in five other directions.
The women, Medana included, were astonished by this interplay among his family members. Little did they know that it was the norm, nothing unusual.
“What is all this ‘mistress this’ and ‘mistress that’ about?” his mother wanted to know.
Medana explained, “When I first came here ten years ago, there were only a dozen of us. Now, we are almost two hundred women.”
His father, Guthrom, Starri, and Selik exclaimed as one, “Two hundred women!” Then they turned as one to Thork as if he’d personally amassed such a large gathering of females.
“Go on,” his mother encouraged Medana while scowling at her three sons and husband for the interruption.
“We established the village on Thrudr, through the tunnel there. Over the years, more and more women joined our refuge. From the beginning, we decided that everyone would be equal on this island and everyone must work. Thus, we gave each job, no matter how small, a title. Mistress of this or that.”
Thork was amazed that Medana would be revealing so much about Thrudr, but then she was resigned to their life there never being the same. How could it be?
“That is fascinating. I cannot wait to see the island,” Lady Alinor said to Medana, then realized when her remark was met with silence that she hadn’t been invited to visit. Not that his father couldn’t insist on entrance, and he would, but it was best to go in an amicable manner.
When the silence continued for an embarrassing amount of time, Thork decided he would have to intervene. Taking Medana by the arm, he pulled her aside. “Medana, you have to invite my family inside. You cannot expect them to just turn around and go home.”
“But . . . I thought . . .”
“You thought what?”
“That you would meet your parents and that you and the men would stay here on Small Island overnight, then go back to Hedeby on the morn.”
You think so little of me, do you, Medana? “And where would you and your women be?”
“Back on Thrudr. It would not be the most satisfactory solution since now some outsiders know of our hideaway, but the best under these conditions. Yea, I know they are your family, but still they are outsiders, you must admit. That is the consequence of our having brought outsiders to the island to begin with, meaning you men.”
Me? An outsider? After all we shared? He stared at her for a long moment. “Are you daft? My parents travel all the way here and that is the hospitality you offer them?”
“We are pirates. We do not offer hospitality.”
Stubborn wench! “Pfff! And besides, you are not schluffing me off so easily.”
“Schluffing? That is a new word,” she remarked irrelevantly.
“I just made it up.” He glanced down at her belly. “Do I need to remind you why I will not be leaving right away?”
She flung her arms out with an air of resignation and walked back to the group. “Lady Alinor, it would be my pleasure to welcome you to Thrudr. Our accommodations are simple, not what you are accustomed to, but please accept our hospitality.”
“Thank you so much, Medana,” his mother said.
“Only Mother and Father and my brothers,” Thork said in an effort to appease Medana. “The others will have to stay here on Small Island.”
His father was not happy about that fact but he agreed, “Tell those women to put away their sorry weapons. I could hew them all down single-handed.”
Gudron did not like that observation, not one bit, if the flexing of her fingers on the hilt of her sword was any indication, but she remained silent when Medana gave her a silent message with a motion of her head.
After gathering some belongings, they prepared to walk over the land strip. The tide was already rising. There would be only a half hour’s time at most.
Still, Bolthor stopped them all and said, “This occasion demands a saga.”
“Nay!” Thork, his father, and three brothers said, but his mother gave Bolthor a quick hug and said, “What a wonderful suggestion!”
“This is the saga of Thork the Great,” Bolthor began.
“I thought I was known as ‘The Great’ in your sagas,” his father snickered.
“Ah, I meant no offense, Tykir. Let me start over.”
“This is the saga of Thork the Great, son of Tykir the Greater.”
Thork and his father both rolled their eyes, which didn’t slow Bolthor down at all.
“Viking men are sometimes wild
Causing mischief since a child.
Thork was the worst of all,
Never walking away from a brawl.
Wenching, pirating, guzzling ale,
Thork did all with a lusty hail.
Never mind his mother’s tears.
Never mind his father’s sneers.
But then a pirate lady did come
Plucked the rascal away like a juicy plum.
But the plum was tart,
And capturing him proved not very smart.
Because now the Viking had the pirate’s heart.
Or mayhap that is wrong.
Mayhap we should sing another song.
What if the Viking is now lost
In the love skeins by a pirate tossed?”
Silence met Bolthor’s saga. Then one by one everyone turned to look at Thork and Medana.
Thork turned on his heels before anyone could ask questions or make mock of him. He did hear his brothe
rs’ laughter following him, and his father said, “What can you expect from a wild child?”
Chapter Nineteen
A man can’t control where his eyes wander . . .
Two days Thork’s family had been on the island of Thrudr, and they showed no signs of leaving anytime soon.
Medana chastised herself for meanspiritedness. Truly, they were a nice family, even the blustering Tykir, and the three handsome brothers had dozens of her feckless women all atwitter, but Medana had to think beyond the imminent departure of these most unusual visitors and the men they’d captured. Most of all, she had to make plans for Thrudr . . . how to protect it from invaders, assuming the women would be vulnerable now that their secret was out, or might leak out any day now.
She was walking with Alinor now—that’s how the lady asked to be called—showing her the various industries carried on by the women. They had just left the weaving shed.
“I am going to send you one of my prize curly-haired rams and several good ewes. I mean no insult, but you need to breed a better quality sheep, Medana, if you want to make better quality wool. What you have now may suffice for your own clothing needs, but for trade, merchants demand the best.”
Alinor was right. They did get low prices for their wool fabrics. Improving their stock had been on her list for years now, but always something more important took precedence.
“You have already promised to send some of the far-famed mead and timekeeping candles made by your sister-by-marriage Lady Eadyth. I cannot continue to accept so many gifts when I . . . when I . . .”
“Captured my son?” Alinor finished for her with a grin.
“Yea.”
“But it was my understanding you were not personally to blame for the, um, crime.”
“ ’Tis true, but a leader is responsible for those under her.”
Alinor nodded her head in agreement. “I must tell you that I am very impressed with the community here at Thrudr, and I want to do everything in my power to make it continue to thrive. Women must help each other.” She put up a halting hand when Medana was about to speak. “I know you are worried about your secret location being made known to one and all, but, really, you just need to rethink how you operate. Arm yourselves better . . . from the outside. Establish better security on Small Island and at the tunnel entrance.”
“And how would we do that?” Alinor had been told the history of Thrudr. Surely, she understood the problems.
“Men,” Alinor answered. “You need men on the island.”
Medana rolled her eyes. “That is where our problems began. The women captured your son and his comrades.”
“Ah, but that was different. They were looking for men to give them children and naught else. Not men to populate your island permanently.”
Medana felt her face color at Alinor’s bluntness.
“We will address that later. Speaking as a mother, I would not be happy if I knew that I had grandchildren that I would ne’er get to know. While many men have no qualms about where they spill their seed, in a good family, a good man takes responsibility for his actions.”
Medana had to commend Alinor for raising her sons with such principles. Alinor’s appearance was unremarkable. She was not a beautiful woman in the traditional sense, not with her wildly curly, bright red hair, dusted with silver threads denoting her age of close to fifty years, and big, rust-colored freckles that covered almost every surface of her body. Tykir, on the other hand, was a very handsome man, even at his age, with mostly gray, dark blond hair. He was the type of man that women would have salivated over when he was young, even if he’d had no social status or wealth.
“How did you meet your husband?” Medana asked. “Oh, I am sorry. I did not mean to ask such a personal question.”
Alinor laughed. “Believe me, I get asked that question a lot. And the story is worth relating, over and over. When the Norse king’s manpart took a right turn, halfway down, he was convinced that I, a witch, had put a spell on it. So he sent Tykir to my home in Northumbria to bring me back to the Norselands to correct his crooked cock. I did not go willingly.”
Medana blinked with incredulity at the astonishing woman. “And did you? Straighten it out?”
“Good heavens, nay! Tykir did capture me, and we did go back to the Norse court, but I am not a witch. In the end, the overused manpart corrected itself.”
Medana shook her head to clear it of all the additional questions Alinor’s vague answer had raised. Like, had Alinor been Tykir’s captive, and yet fallen in love with her captor? Nay, that was a question best left unspoken . . . and too similar to her own situation. They had come to the side garth of one of the longhouses where soap was being made today . . . the special scented soaps that Elida was noted for. The air was filled with the pleasant aroma of roses, lavender, honey, and evergreen. Alinor picked up several of the drying squares and sniffed. Smiling, she asked if she could take a sample of each back with her to Dragonstead. “Eadyth would be interested in your honey soaps. Where do you get your honey, by the by?”
“In the markets, or”—Medana felt herself blushing again—“on pirate ventures. We manage to harvest some wild honey on Thrudr, but not enough for all our purposes.”
Alinor smiled, seemingly not shocked by female pirating.
What an unusual lady!
“When I send you the ram and sheep, I will have Eadyth send some beehives and crates of bees to start you off on your own enterprise. In fact, I can guarantee that Eadyth will want to come herself . . . to offer her assistance, but out of curiosity as well.”
They were walking now back toward the larger of the longhouses where the evening meal would soon be served. The men, Tykir included, slept up at the hunters’ hut, but they all assembled down here when breaking fast. Tonight they would be serving a special feast since an exceptionally large wild boar had been killed and had been roasting all day in a fire pit.
“Even if what you say is true about men here on Thrudr,” Medana said, resuming their earlier conversation, “that would not solve all our problems. As you know, I killed the man my brothers betrothed me to. I took the longship that would have been my bride-gift. My brothers cannot gain ownership of the small estate left me by my mother unless I am dead, or married to a spouse of their choice who would give it to them.”
“First things first, dearling.” Alinor patted her on the sleeve of her tunic. “You had just cause to strike out at that evil Ulfr. His reputation was well-known in some parts. Even after ten years, you could probably find women or servants who suffered his perversions.”
“Hmpfh! There are several here on the island.”
“You need to go back to King Harald’s court and ask for a hearing to be held at the next Althing. In fact, one is scheduled for next month in Vestfold, I think.”
“Nay, nay, nay! My brothers and Ulfr’s family and friends at court would testify against me.”
“Medana, Haakon was king back then. He is dead now.”
“Still the same royal family.”
“You have powerful people at your back now, Medana. Not just my son Thork, but my husband, other high jarls in the Norselands who would do Tykir’s bidding in a trice, even Tykir’s brother Eirik, who is a Saxon ealdorman.”
“That is all well and good, but—”
“And here’s a fact you might not know. King Harald and my husband are cousins. Tykir’s father, Thork, and Eric Bloodaxe, once king of Northumbria, were half brothers. Oh, Thork was illegitimate, but that is of no matter, the blood tie is still there. Harald Greycloak is one of Eric Bloodaxe’s many sons.”
Medana was shocked. Thork was of royal blood, even if from the wrong side of the blanket.
But Alinor was still talking. “My husband was a noted warrior at one time and he has told me numerous times that the best strategy is to be the aggressor, not to wait for your enemy to attack.”
Tears welled in Medana’s eyes, not because she believed anything could be done for her, but beca
use so many would be willing to try.
Just then, they came upon Thork and his father and three brothers, who were helping Solveig with the new longship, which was already framed out. In just one day, they’d accomplished more than the women had in the past few years. Of course, there were many women standing about who had duties elsewhere. They were trying to get the attention of the bare-chested men, none of them having given up on the man seed business yet.
Tykir walked over and kissed his wife on the cheek. Thork tried to do the same to Medana, but she turned her head away, hissing, “Behave, you oaf!”
“You forgot odious.”
“What are you blathering about?”
“Odious oaf. Remember?” He winked at her.
She tried her best not to look at him, to notice the vast amount of exposed skin, every bit of which she had touched with pleasure. Not that she was recalling that.
“Alinor, dost know that Thork does not intend to leave with us?” Tykir said to his wife.
Alinor raised a brow at Thork.
“Father mentioned possibly leaving Thrudr tonight and setting sail from Small Island on the morrow. I am not ready to leave yet, nor is Henry. The others will go with you to Hedeby and you can send my longship back here, assuming that my men are still there.”
His longship? More men? Nay, nay, nay!
“I know why Henry wants to stay, but why you?” Alinor asked.
“I would think you would be anxious to return to your wild ways,” his father added, his eyes twinkling with some mischief.
“I already told you that I have reformed and that I was on my way back to Dragonstead when I was captured by Medana.”
“Not by me. By my women,” she corrected.
Thork waved a hand airily at the distinction.
“If you were on your way to Dragonstead, why not return there with us?” His mother’s brow furrowed with confusion.
“Because I have matters yet unsettled here.”
“What matters?” his father asked with exasperation. “Your mother is already planning a return trip to Thrudr with her bloody damn sheep.”