by Vivian Leigh
The bearded would-be abuser stood a dozen feet away, his trousers around his ankles and his knees trembling. His head hung down and he wouldn’t meet Kelnar’s eyes.
Behind him a pair of the younger Vikings dragged a wounded warrior away. Blood seeped between his fingers where he had a hand clasped to his shoulder. They very carefully ignored Eliza until they were out of sight around one of the longhouses that fenced in the common area.
A dreadful silence hung in the air. Eliza glanced around. Everyone else was gone. The looms sat idle, threads twisting in the wind.
Kelnar spoke, his voice low and dangerous. She couldn’t understand everything, but the thrust of the speech was: “If you ever touch my property again I’ll nail you to a wall with spears and let wild dogs feast on your genitals.”
Beardy nodded, finally met Kelnar’s fierce gaze. His chest shook. He didn’t say anything else, just pulled up his trousers and stumbled away.
“You are hurt?” Kelnar said, taking a step toward Eliza.
“I will live.”
“That is good. Come. You will not be troubled again.”
He led her back across the village, letting her support herself on his arm. Eventually they reached his longhouse. Once inside, he took her to the rear of the building, to the divider that closed off the armory. She held her dress closed behind her and wondered when he’d give her a chance to fully cover herself.
“A Viking woman should be armed.” He opened an intricately carved chest and took out a dagger. A silver chain wrapped around a leather sheath that itself was wrapped in fine gold filigree. A single red ruby glistened in the hilt. He held the weapon forth on both palms, an offering.
Eliza took it, slid the blade free, mesmerized. Her dress fluttered open, forgotten.
“It’s beautiful,” she whispered.
“Test it,” he said.
She pressed her thumb to the steel, saw a thin line of flesh part, but stopped before the blade could draw blood. It required almost no pressure. “You could shave with this.”
Kelnar smiled, nodded. “Perhaps. Keep it.”
She clutched it in her hands. “And if Beardy tries anything else?”
“His name is Angmar. Should he so much as look at you funny, gut him like a fish.”
How many thousands of fish had she gutted on the banks of the Seine? It was unknowable. She slid the blade back into the sheath. “Fish I understand.”
“Very good.” He went back out into the main part of the longhouse, waited for her to follow. “I must return to the boats. We sail again in a week’s time. Everything must be ready.”
He left her by the fire, and wasn’t even to the door when her mother stepped from the shadows.
“You survived, I see,” the witch observed.
Eliza glared at her. “No thanks to you. You left me to run alone.”
“All thanks to me. How do you think Kelnar knew to come for you?”
“Oh.”
“Indeed. Kelnar gave you a weapon?”
Eliza held up the sheathed blade.
“A ceremonial dagger. May I see it?” She took it, unwrapped the chain. “The chain goes around your neck.” She let the dagger hang over Eliza’s chest.
“I just let it hang here?”
“Usually you tuck into your dress. Keep it out of sight. But I think, in your case, let everyone see it, at least for a while.” She paused, stepped behind Eliza. “What happened to your dress?”
“Angmar cut it off me.” Her voice cracked.
“I see. Come. We’ll get you another.”
Eliza followed the witch, her mother, to her little corner of the longhouse. She couldn’t help but admire the woman’s perfect calm. She wished she could borrow a little of it for herself.
Chapter Five
Strength
“How long have you been a witch?” Eliza looped her needle through the whorl, dragging another strand of wool into the complicated knot. She sat in her mother’s alcove by the fire.
Karna stared at the ceiling. “Twenty-nine years. I started as a slip of a girl, then gave it up when I met your father.”
“Did my father know?”
“He was aware, but it wasn’t something we spoke about. I was trying to a make a new life with him as a wife and a mother, not a witch. The church in France did not look kindly upon witches.” She turned back to her own project, sewing a pair of leather shoes for Eliza.
Voices murmured around them, the other occupants of the longhouse returned for the evening. Kelnar was still gone. Fours of inspecting ships and weapons. Did Angmar spoil me somehow?
She worked her knots by firelight, still not fully comfortable with the Viking way of sock making. Her mother insisted that the great, knotted sheets of wool made a sock finer than any in France. They were a devilish amount of work, that was for sure. It was the story of her new life.
“Why did you return to the pagan ways?” Eliza asked.
“It’s a pagan country. I needed to stand out, something the other women would respect. Or fear. Fear works just as well.”
“And it’s not like the church was going to burn you for it.”
“Not only did they not burn me, they elevated me to a place of power. My ability as a seer saved my life. It saved yours, too.”
“Can you teach me?”
Her mother cocked an eyebrow. “I assumed your father would have raised you not to ask questions like that.”
“My father raised me to be practical.” She tapped the dagger tucked into the front of her dress. “Kelnar told me I should gut the next man that touched me. I’ve gutted countless fish. Seafish and riverfish, trout and carp. Another man lays a hand on me I don’t appreciate, he’ll be so much landcarp.”
“Landcarp, huh? You have spirit, girl. That’s good. Did Angmar hurt you?”
Eliza pursed her lips. “Yes. I will not be hurt again.”
“Good. Survival is mental. Here in the Norse county, your mind is your most important asset.”
Eliza snorted. “Because Kelnar abducted me for my mind.” She held a hand to breasts, cupping her ample swell.
“He abducted you because I convinced him he needed you.” She tightened a few stiches in her leather. “The breasts may have helped,” she conceded.
“Well, I’m here. I’m alive. I’m doing better than Cordith and Aldith.”
“Ah, your friends from the village. They are unlucky. Most Viking men would not mistreat them so. Kelnar’s band is still a disparate force. He cannot control everyone.”
“They were on his ship. How can he control a village like this if he cannot control his own ship?”
“The men of his ship are split. Half are loyal to him absolutely. Half are the men he’d most wish to see fall in combat.”
“And Angmar?”
“The son of one he’d wish to see fall. Kelnar spared him for political reasons, and his transgressions will become a debt for his family.”
“So what about Cordith and Aldith? Can anything be done or will they be bred like cattle?”
“Things can be done. I do not get on well with all the Norse women, but many of them are transplants—”
“Like us?”
“Very much like us. Some from France, some from other kingdoms. They will not appreciate seeing women-folk being abused.”
“Who were the blonde ones watching Angmar take me?”
“If they were blonde, they were from the north. The old Norse. You are a threat to them, and they do not fear you the way they fear me.”
“Why not? If I’m your daughter…”
Karna shook her head. “You must not tell anyone of that. I am the chief’s witch. You are to be his wife. I will speak to those that will listen, and we will help your friends. You must help yourself.”
“I don’t know how. I lay with Kelnar, but beyond that, I am a practical girl. I can gut a fish a dozen ways, and I can sew just enough to keep a shirt from falling apart.” She held up the half-finished sock. “With
another week of practice, I might even be able to make a sock.”
“You have already begun to learn their language. The chief has given you a dagger. That is a significant present. One given to a bride. Those facts will not be lost on the women of the village. Be strong. Be resolute. If you are to be queen, you can rule from wisdom, not fear.” She grinned. “Besides, fear is reserved for witches.”
“I will take power wherever I can, but I can’t just wait here in comfort while others are left to suffer indefinitely.”
“Fine. You do not wish to wait? Take your dagger. Go reclaim your friends from the men that hold them. The Vikings respect nothing so much as strength.”
Eliza slid the sheath out of her dress, then slipped the blade free. It gleamed silver in the firelight with whorls of pale gray visible once she looked at it more closely. “This is not an ordinary blade, is it?”
“No. It’s a special steel, usually reserved for swords.”
Eliza dropped the knotted mass of sock onto the tip and pulled. The blade sliced true, sheering the threads with the barest effort. The back of the blade had a cross stamped into it, and tiny letters beside it.
“What does this mean, ‘Ulfbehrt.’”
“The maker’s mark.”
Eliza dropped the sliced cloth and tucked her dagger back into the sheath. She didn’t tuck the sheath back into her dress, though. Instead, she let it fall between her breasts, visible to the world. “I will return soon, and I will have two women with me. Will it be a problem for Kelnar?”
“Strength is never a problem for a chief. Go. Good luck.”
Chapter Six
Power
Darkness hung heavy as a winter blanket, promising more snow before the sun rose again. Eliza hurried toward the western edge of the village, her hands balled into fists. Part of her looked forward to the fight. She reached up, squeezed the hilt of the dagger until her knuckles were white. Better to stand up to a bully than let him peck away at her, whittling her down like a chicken at a bucket of grain.
The wind tossed her dark hair out behind her, and when she came around the corner of the last house and entered the firelight, she knew she looked like a vengeful angel. The blade shone brightly in her fist.
Viking men sat around the fire, cups of mead before them. Cordith and Aldith each sat on one side of a big, bearded man in a leather jerkin. He laughed when he saw her.
“What’s this, Kelnar’s little pet?”
Eliza glared at him. “You have my friends.”
He glanced from side to side, shrugged. “Girl, do you know who I am?”
“A fat pile of goat shit that’s three minutes from being a dead man. Cordith, Aldith, get up.”
The man gripped their arms and squeezed. Aldith squeaked, but sat back down. Cordith spoke, softly, “Child, do not anger such as him. It will only make our lives worse, yours most of all.”
“I do not care who you are,” Eliza said to the Viking. She took a step closer, pointed her blade at him. “Release the women or die.”
“You have shamed my son already.” He let go of Cordith, grabbed the hilt of an axe, and rose.
“You’re Angmar’s father?”
“I am. I am Bor, mightiest warrior in the north. And since you are here, I will finish what my son has begun.” He took a lumbering step forward.
“No, you won’t.” Eliza reversed the grip on her dagger, pinched the blade between her fingers. A flick sent it spinning into Angmar’s father.
He cried out, his hands reaching for his face. The hilt protruded from his hands, the blade buried in his eye.
Eliza didn’t hesitate. His axe never hit the ground. She leapt forward and caught it by the handle and rose, twisting it up and around. The blade bit into the side of his neck, but he was already falling, lifeless.
She dropped the axe, plucked her dagger free of the fallen giant. His blood pumped into the dirt. The men were rising, swords and axes shaking loose. She glared at them each in turn, daring one to come forward and face her blade.
“Sit down, boys.” A withered, white haired woman strode into the circle. “Bor got no more’n he deserved. The next one of you fools that moves toward this girl will get the same, I imagine.”
The men didn’t sit back down, but none stepped forward to face her, either.
“Girl, I suggest you take you friends and make your way back to your part of the village.”
Eliza glared at the woman, but eventually nodded.
“Good.” The old woman turned back to the men. “Get this carcass out of here. A man that can’t defend his own fire don’t deserve a place of power.”
Cordith tugged on Eliza’s sleeve. “She’s right, child. You claimed us, now get us out of here.”
Eliza helped Aldith to her feet, then slipped the girl’s arm around her shoulder when she saw she could barely walk. “We’re going to the far side of the village. Kelnar’s witch is expecting us.”
They trudged off into the darkness, grumbling and threats echoing behind them.
***
Kelnar was in the longhouse when they returned. He watched, an eyebrow raised, as Eliza led the other women in and, with her mother’s help, got them situated with buckets of water and a pair of new dresses.
“Your friends from your village?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“I thought they were claimed by Bor.” He spoke in bad French.
“They were.”
Kelnar’s expression darkened, his brow furrowing. “And you freed his captives? This is not a thing done in the north.”
“No. I claimed them as my own. All of Bor’s warriors witnessed it.”
“And Bor let you leave?”
“Bor was in no position to complain. I killed him.” She met Kelnar’s eye as she said it.
A slow smile spread across his face. “You? You faced Bor and killed? Did you cut his throat in the dark?”
“No. I challenged him; he accepted; I won.”
“She stuck that dagger right in his eye, she did,” Cordith added. “His whole clan witnessed it.”
Kelnar laughed, then switched back to Norse and spoke louder. “Bor was bested by this woman.” He pointed to Eliza. “He is dead.”
The occupants of the longhouse, warriors and elders alike, stamped their feet in appreciation.
“It is not often one of our women bests one such as Bor.”
“But it happens occasionally,” Karna said, looking up from where she was washing Aldith’s face.
“It does, yes,” Kelnar said.
Karna continued, “And what happens to those women, Kelnar? Tell her.”
“Often they become war leaders. Though most often they have been raised to war by their father and brothers. Were you raised to war, Eliza?”
“My father was a fisherman. I learned my way around a knife at an early age.”
Kelnar shrugged. “A knife is a fine weapon, though not much use against a sword. Perhaps you are not ready yet.”
“Perhaps not.”
“Regardless, come outside with me. I need to check the ships one last time this evening.”
Eliza looked to Cordith and Aldith.
“They’ll survive a few hours, girl. Go on.” Karna shooed her away.
Eliza gathered a warm cloak, then followed Kelnar back out into the night. They strolled along, as if they hadn’t a care in the world. After a time, Kelnar took her hand.
“How do you like the north?” he asked.
“It’s cold. And hard.”
“It is certainly those things. Has Karna explained why I claimed you?”
“You wish to bring civilization to the Vikings?”
“That’s partially true. My people are of many peoples, from all corners of the world. We have your black hair, our blonde hair, even a few fire haired folk from the green isles to the far west. I have seen Karna about this village since I was a young man. She has carved a place out for herself here, and she’s done it through cleverness and respect
and fear.”
“So what does that have to do with me?”
“My people will only be ruled by one that is clever and strong, one that is worthy of respect, but also feared. Your mother would have made a great queen, if she were younger. So instead I turn to her daughter.”
Eliza stumbled. “I…”
“I know. You need not say anything. Your mother is a score of years older than I am, else I would have chosen her. Today you have proven that you have at least a sliver of the steel that she does. Keep proving it.”
They broke free of the houses and onto the beach. Flickering torches marked the bow of each of the longships pulled up on the shingle.
“I’m going out on another raid tomorrow. You will be here without me. While I’m gone, you will be threatened.”
Eliza squeezed his hand. “Okay.”
“Killing Bor may do you as much harm as good. Now the other clans will know you are a threat. You realize that each of them hoped to send a daughter to take my hand?”
“No.”
“They did.”
Eliza gulped, clutched at her dagger with free hand. Every woman in the village would be against her. Most of the men, too, if their sisters or lovers spurned her. At least she’d have her mother and Cordith to support her. Maybe in a few days Aldith, too. She had a feeling she was going to need them all to watch her back.
“How long will you be gone?”
“A few weeks, a month, forever. It is hard to say.” He stopped at the bow of a particularly large ship. “Come aboard with me.”
He waved to the sentry peering over the bow at them, then led her around to a long plank. Eliza followed him up to the deck. The ship was neatly arranged. Oars tucked along the gunwales, ropes coiled around the mast and the platforms fore and aft.
“Elbrand, go take a stroll down the beach for a span or so.”
“Yes, chief.” The man sprang up, and jogged to the gangplank.
He’s just a boy, Eliza thought.