Fljótdís- Daughter of the North

by Sanita Trumpika

  She looked up at the starry autumn sky. “I was just thinking how free it feels out here tonight.”

  Ari leaned against the wall and looked up at the stars. “Nott does have her beauty.”

  She followed the fleeting path of a falling star. “Yes, she does. And such beauty is strong and unbound by walls and the appetites of greedy men.” She kept her sight trained on the heavens. “Can I ask you a question?”

  “It is my responsibility to answer your questions, Fljótdís.”

  “What was she like, Ari, my mother?”

  Ari was lost to her for a moment. He was not a sentimental man and the words did not come easily to him. “She was a lot like you. When I saw her for the first time, she rode into our village like a goddess on the back of a white horse. I remember she was dressed in a beautiful red gown and furs. It was snowing that day and it was like that horse was made of the snow. Her hair was long and as dark as this night. It was covered with snowflakes that shone like jewels. I could have sworn on that day that her eyes were filled with stars. She was so graceful, so strong. And when she smiled...”

  He shook his head slowly. “But your mother was not a goddess. She was a woman of flesh and blood, and the sword at her side and the spear she carried announced to all that she was a true shieldmaiden, a woman of power and independence. She joined us in the battle, drank with us and laughed with us. But her most beautiful smiles were only for one of us, your father.”

  It was easy for Fljótdís to imagine her. Father had always told her that her mother was an extraordinary woman, a warrior. But now Ari made the picture very real. She could almost see her mother riding into the village on that white horse.

  “Did she have a family, Ari, or any people she knew?” She had asked this same question of her father a hundred times and never gotten an answer.

  Ari toyed with a rip in his tunic absently. “She was a mystery, Fljótdís. No one knew where she came from. Once she mentioned Iceland, but after her death your father went to Iceland and sought anyone who might have known her. He found nothing there. No one knew who she was or where she came from. But your mother and Gunnar loved each other so strongly that it didn’t matter. You, my dear Fljótdís, are just like her. Except for those eyes of yours. Without question, those are your father’s eyes.”

  She laid her hand lightly on Ari’s arm. “Thank you for telling me these things. I need to know.”

  The sadness in his eyes remained, but he smiled warmly. “You’re welcome. Take care of yourself and make your mother proud. She was a true Valkyrie. At least to me and your father.”

  He returned to the Hall, leaving Fljótdís alone with her thoughts in the darkness. She had always known how to please her father. What would it have taken to please her Valkyrie mother?

  Chapter 9

  “What do you mean he won’t attend the wedding?”

  King Harald rose from his chair abruptly and began to pace the room in open irritation. He glared at the Earl’s envoy with murder in his eye.

  The envoy looked ready to wet himself. “The Earl is sick, my lord, very sick. He has been told he must stay in bed to defeat this illness. He sends his apologies. He sends his daughter to remain here until the wedding as a guarantee of his good faith in your bargain.”

  Fljótdís watched the King carefully. Sick or not, this was an insult on the part of the Earl. The father of the bride wasn’t going to attend the wedding. It was a delicate situation, one perhaps of innocence, or one of looming treachery. Whatever his true thoughts might be, the King chose diplomacy for now.

  With a dismissing wave of his hand, the King ended the matter. “Tell Earl Ulfson I will expect his visit soon after the wedding.”

  The envoy’s hands trembled as he bowed. “Yes, my lord. At once, my lord.” He made a quick escape.

  Harald turned his attention to Ari. “What do you think?”

  Ari frowned. “I think it is a poor excuse and that we should look into this illness of the Earl’s to be sure it is real. Do you think he has something on his mind?”

  The King turned an apple over and over in his hand before taking a bite of it. “I doubt it. He’s a greedy son-of-a-bitch and he’s not so big a fool as to give up this deal. I think he is really sick. I need him alive. And you heard it, he sends his daughter as a guarantee. The wedding will happen, with or without Ulfson.”

  Ari considered these matters. “Let’s just hope that daughter of his is as valuable to him as he would have us believe.”

  She wasn’t as sure about Ulfson as the King was. She couldn’t talk to Harald about her doubts. She needed to talk to Ari. And when the King allowed them to go, she caught up to him.

  “Do you really believe this message, Ari? Do you think Ulfson is truly ill?”

  Ari frowned. “I don’t know, Fljótdís. But we must keep our eyes open.”

  She grabbed Ari’s sleeve. “I think someone should go to the Earl’s village to make sure illness is really the true reason.”

  He gave her a look of strong warning. ”I cannot let you go on such a mission. I need you here. The King needs us both. We can’t be certain about all that’s going on and now is the time the King requires our services. I cannot go against the King’s orders, Fljótdís, and neither can you.”

  “But...”

  “No but’s. Not another word about this, understood? The answer is no. I must talk to Olaf.”

  Fljótdís watched him go. Ari refused to listen. The King refused to listen. She could just leave it as it was, but something told her that there was too much at stake. To go would be against all of her promises. To go against the King’s orders, to go against Ari’s commands could be the end of everything she cared about. It could even mean the end of her life.

  It was a risk beyond measure. But it was something she had to do, for all of them. She knew in her heart that the King was in danger, that they were all in danger. And if she proved it, what then? Wasn’t it her primary job to protect the King? Even if she was right, it might still cost her everything, her honour, the King’s trust, and Ari’s friendship and respect. It would be an enormous price to pay.

  It was the hardest decision of her life and one she had to make alone. If only the gods would give her a sign, just a little sign. She looked up at the sky. Risk everything or stay?

  “Please, Father, if you can hear me in Valhalla, should I go?”

  She received her answer. A clap of thunder shook the ground. Dark clouds shadowed the sun. A storm was coming. People around her hurried to get inside, to hide from the rain which now poured down. Thunder ripped the air and a twisting shard of lightning hit the ground not far from the barn. She drank in its power. The answer was clear.

  She ran to the barn and hurriedly saddled her horse. The animal was frightened by the sudden storm, but after a few gentle words, it calmed down, trusting her. She led the horse outside and climbed into the saddle, hiding her face under her hood. In the midst of the storm’s fury, she would make her way out of the village.

  The storm subsided when she was halfway to Ulfson’s village. She was soaked to the bone, but it didn’t matter. Thor had sent her a message that she must go on this mission. If she was lucky, she could do it all before anyone even realized she was gone. If she was lucky... She hoped that the gods would not desert her. Tomorrow was the King’s wedding. She must return in time to warn everyone if there was danger.

  If there is any danger. What if the Earl was really sick? Then she would be foolish to return to the town. There was no point to do it. The King would punish her for disobeying, maybe put her in chains or just send her to Hel for her trouble. And Ari, dear Ari...

  No, she couldn’t allow herself to think about it now. It was too late to turn back. Now there was only forward. She had made her choice and the price would have to be paid, no matter what happened.

  Twilight faded into night. The moon broke free from the clouds and illuminated the naked tree branches that reached their hands toward the sky, sending t
heir frozen prayers to the gods above. They begged for warmth as they trembled in the autumn wind like candles that had lost their yellow flames. All that was left now was darkness. Autumn was cruel and cold in its heart. It robbed the trees their warm coats, withered flowers and painted all in grey.

  She watched the progress of the stars as she rode. Her horse was tired and so was she. They both needed rest, but it was still a few hours ride until they would reach the village. Now they were guided only by starlight and the bright moon. She smiled to herself. Hati would have a great chase in the skies tonight.

  This was the first time she had ever gone so far alone and never had she gone this far at night. It was her first solo trip, and she hoped it wouldn’t be her last one.

  As dawn touched the horizon, a small cluster of houses came into sight. She had reached the outskirts of the village. The settlement itself was most likely over the next hill. She avoided the houses and hid her horse in a thick copse of trees, well away from the road. Staying very aware of her surroundings, she stealthily climbed the hill to survey the village below, mindful that there might be sentries on duty.

  The village was surrounded by hills, not smart in a time of attack. No wonder Ulfson was concerned for its safety. The village looked rich and quite large. Odd that no one had tried to raid it. And strange that there appeared to be no one keeping watch for possible trouble. Where were the Earl’s warriors who should have been on duty?

  True enough, Harald had promised safety and help to each earldom in case of intruders. Since he had been the King, the earldoms had more or less lived in peace. Of course, there was always quarrelling and sword-waving, but all such commotions settled down in the end. No one complained about Harald’s reign, at least not where it could be heard by the King and those around him. So far, Harald had prevailed. So far.

  She entered the village on foot, keeping to the shadows as she watched the morning’s activities and kept her ears open for town gossip. If the Earl was truly ill, it would be on the minds and tongues of the locals. If he was up to something more nefarious, the rumour of that might be in their chatter as well.

  The first order of business was to find a tavern to ease the growling in her belly and perhaps get access to more information. She spotted a big wooden building that had the look of a tavern about it. As she worked her way toward it, she was reminded of her unusual appearance by a small boy who scoffed at her warrior’s garb. Few gave her attire a second look at home. But she was not at home now. She passed a bread cart and grabbed a small loaf while the owner was preoccupied with a customer, but was careful to drop a coin where the loaf had been. A public accusation of theft was not something she needed.

  She went to the back door of the tavern to avoid making an entrance among strangers. An old woman stood beside the door. She held a large carved staff in her hand and the hood of her dark cape was drawn down over her face. She looked to be waiting for something, or someone.

  As she approached, the woman threw back her hood, revealing a face that had once been beautiful perhaps but was now as old as time itself. Her long white braids were tied with intriguing beads and bits of herb and there was a glow about her eyes that spoke of another world. She gestured for her to come nearer.

  She did not like the look of this. Her stepmother’s tricks and treachery had taught her well not to trust the ways of a Vǫlva. But there was something compelling about the old woman, something she found impossible to resist. The woman’s voice was a rasping whisper.

  “Come closer, girl.”

  Fljótdís did as she was told, almost beyond her own will. “What do you want of me?”

  The old woman wrapped her dark cloak more tightly around her shoulders at the coldness of Fljótdís’ words. “It is not what I want, Lady of the River. It is what you want that puts me before you. You are a long way from home, my girl, a dangerous venture, a venture you hope will make you a hero. To please a king. To please your father’s memory. And perhaps your mother’s memory as well.”

  This woman knew too much. However she had learned all of this information, it was knowledge she did not want anyone in this village to know. It could cost her her freedom and even her life. She opened her mouth to put the old woman in her place, but the Vǫlva passed her hand in front of her face and no words came out.

  The woman took Fljótdís’ hand into her own and turned it over to look at the palm. Fljótdís wanted to pull away, but somehow she couldn’t remember how. The woman traced the lines on the palm and raised her unsettling eyes to Fljótdís.

  “It’s all here, my girl, the sadness of the past and the sorrows yet to come. You have only begun to learn the meaning of loss. And you are far too quick to trust.” She let go of Fljótdís’ hand. “Think twice about those you serve. There is no one that you can trust, no one.”

  Fljótdís took a step back. “No one including you.”

  The old woman gave her a sad smile. “No one including yourself.”

  The sound of the tavern door starting to open distracted Fljótdís for an instant and when she looked back, the old woman was gone. It was as if she had never existed, but there were tiny scratch marks on her palm where the Vǫlva’s finger had traced the lines. There was no time to process it because a tall woman with long, brown hair now stood in the tavern’s doorway, giving her a questioning look. Her cheeks were bright from the duties of the hot kitchen.

  “Do you always stand in the cold talking to yourself, mistress?” The woman looked around, but there was no one near except Fljótdís.

  Fljótdís gathered herself quickly. “Your pardon. I’ve been travelling through the night and I fear I may be talking in my sleep. I wonder if I might purchase a cup of mead.”

  The woman ushered her into the kitchen. “Far be it from me to turn away a paying customer. But you’re soaked to the bone. Let me loan you some dry clothes.” She cocked her head. “That is if you don’t mind wearing a frock for the time being.”

  A dress was exactly what she needed. “That will be fine. You are more than kind.”

  “I am Inge. And you are?”

  She didn’t dare give her real name. It was not a common one and it was one that would be quickly recognized by anyone who might have been at the feast. “Bjorna.”

  Inge bustled about the big kitchen. “Very well, Bjorna. Just give me a moment. And if I may ask, where are you going? It’s not safe for a woman to travel these roads alone, you know? Even a woman with a sword at her side.”

  It was important that she not give the wrong answer. “I was travelling to visit relatives to the north. My sister is due to give birth any day now.”

  Inge gave her a long look, then seemed to think better of it. “To the north, you say?”

  “Yes, I’ll be out of your way after I have a chance to dry out a bit.”

  Inge dismissed the subject with a wave of her hand. “Nonsense, I won’t hear of your going anywhere till tomorrow. We’ll have a big crowd tonight. Maybe if you wouldn’t mind lending us a hand...”

  A big crowd. She needed to get Inge to say more. “Really, what’s the occasion?”

  Inge gave a telling glance to the two young serving women who chattered to each other as they prepared vegetables on the far side of the room. The two women were now silent and she put a smile back on her face.

  “Oh, just the usual locals, nothing special.” She wiped her hands on her apron quickly and started toward the stairs that led up to the living quarters.

  Inge was suspicious of her and she had to wonder if this invitation to stay was not more of an order. She had to keep things light.

  “Well, I’m told I make a very tasty rabbit stew. I’d be happy to make it for you in thanks for your kind hospitality.”

  “That might not be a bad idea. Signa, see if there are any rabbits left.”

  Inge disappeared up the stairs and one of the two serving women retreated out the back door. Was it in search of rabbits, or in search of Ulfson’s men? She would have to risk it fo
r now.

  Chapter 10

  “Where the Hel is Fljótdís?” Harald grabbed Ari’s shoulder impatiently. “I hope you have an explanation for this sudden disappearance of hers. I’ll have her pretty hide if she misses this ridiculous event.”

  Ari was not one to lie to the King, but he was not about to tell the King he had no idea where Fljótdís was. Actually, he had one idea, but he refused to give it room in his mind.

  “She has probably gone in search of the perfect wedding gift for you and your new bride, my King. I’m sure she will be here in time.”

  The King watched the frenzy of preparation going on in the Great Hall for the feast. “If Fljótdís isn’t here in time, tell her to stay out of my sight.”

  Ari nodded dutifully. “Yes, my lord.”

  The King took out all of his nervous frustration on Fljótdís’ absence. He slammed his wine goblet on the table. “I gave her a chance. If she betrays me in any way, do you hear me, I will feed her head to the dogs. Do you understand that? And you took responsibility for her. You’ll answer for her actions.”

  Ari watched the King storm from the room. This was bad. The King’s rant about betrayal was not really about Fljótdís, but about his lingering suspicions over Ulfson’s loyalty. But with Ulfson absent, his uncertainty was now aimed at Fljótdís. And if Fljótdís was where he suspected she was, it was too late to save her or himself. That foolish girl had thrown away everything. She had ruined them both and she may well have gotten herself killed in the process.

  “Damned irresponsible girl!”

  Fljótdís tasted a bit of her stew. It was very nice. And very ready.

  “Bring six bowls to the table in the left corner,” Inge commanded of her serving crew.

  Fljótdís remained behind the scenes, by all appearances simply working on her stew, but all the while she listened carefully to bits of conversation she overheard. There was no interest in a wedding that should have been a very big event in these people’s lives. But spirits were running very high.