by Susan Amund
Simon was with the Church. Aelfric was with God. She was alone in the keep, above and apart from the islanders that she loved. She would have to make a choice to lose them or lose herself to a man not of her choosing.
He had to stay. She chose him. “I need you.”
And then he pulled her close. She couldn’t stop the tears. She shook with sorrow, and with fear that she would be crushed under so much sadness. For a few minutes she refused the heavy responsibility that Aelfreic’s death forced upon her. Julia became aware of the warm weight of his broad palm at the base of her spine. He rubbed slow, soothing circles at the small of her back. She could hear the steady beat of his heart under the tear-soaked shirt.
When she pulled away she felt empty. Not hollow, like when she had heard of Aelfric’s death, but drained. The grief was still there, but she had exhausted it, at least for a time. He withstood her onslaught and offered her a smile. He said he would return. “I was promised more than land and coin,” he teased. And then his hold changed. He cradled her head in his hand and his gaze focused on her lips. She knew then that he intended to kiss her. She held absolutely still, not even daring to breathe. His lips were on hers, the pressure gentle. He wanted to come back. He wanted to stay on the island. He wanted her. She let out a breath and kissed him back.
His mouth was warm, and when he slipped his tongue between her lips, it was hot. Hot and tasting of the mellow ale served at supper and something else, something vaguely spicy. She wanted more. He pulled away and she kept her eyes closed for a moment, missing his taste already. His teeth on her bottom lip surprised her, and made her flush even more than his heat. He said he would be back. As if he had the right to direct her actions, he told her to meet him at MØrket before the tide. He would leave the next day. He left, without another kiss, which she tried to convince herself she wasn’t waiting for.
Julia shook her head at the memory. Pleasure at his kiss warred with guilt that she could feel so soon after hearing of Aelfric’s death. Her face felt hot despite the October weather and she hoped the breeze would cool her blush before she reached the village. She still had to inform the village of the passing of Aelfric Cruithne, Lord of Aurelius. She had to make certain all of the supplies ordered for MØrket had been delivered to Eric’s men. And then she had to see him off. Her stomach twisted at those thoughts. Aelfric was dead and Vandalsson was sailing to Norway. He would be back.
From MØrket’s deck Eric watched the crowd that formed to listen to Julia speak. He knew the news had not been well received at the keep, but in the village it was worse. Every person there had lost a husband, a father, or a son and their wails echoed across the water. Only 11 men had survived the battle; Julia spoke their names aloud, but cautioned that they might not make the trip to the island. Many volunteered to meet Brother Caemon and Brother Martin and help bring the men home. Julia denied them all, stating that the Abbot would send two monks with Paul. Any others would be in danger of being killed, or conscripted and then killed.
Eric kept one eye on her as she walked among them. She offered comfort and tried to answer questions. A few villagers grew angry in their grief. One old man even grabbed her shoulder. Eric jumped off MØrket and was wading through the water before he knew what he was doing. By the time he reached the shore, the man had collapsed onto the beach and Julia was patting his back as he sobbed. He left her there, but continued to keep a close watch as he gave orders to his men.
The men were in a strange mood as well. Most had been eager to return home when they arrived at Aurelius, but many had found friends and occupation since then. They cared for the people who had opened their homes, but the Norse were uncomfortable with the grief that blanketed the island. Some were also reluctant to leave someone in particular.
Torvald the Lean was outright begging a black-haired lass to wait for him to return. She alternated between teary hugs and angry demands that he not leave. Other men were less demonstrative, but still obviously morose over the impending departure. The single women of the island were nearly all teary. Even some of the island men seemed upset that they were leaving. Duncan the Tanner cursed at every Norse he came across, demanding they “get if they were gonna” before finally retreating to his shop near the marsh.
Abjorn stood outside a cottage on the edge of the village cradling a sack of foodstuffs and a box of candles. He was silent as he endured alternate fits of rage, sorrow, and anxiety from his companion. Mary Ellery, the Chandler’s wife, snatched back the food sack for the third time and added another loaf of bread. Eric couldn’t hear everything, but she seemed to be verbally abusing the huge warrior: “...idiots in the winter...don’t have the sense God gave a goose”. Without any warning, she collapsed onto a bench and began crying. She eventually stood up and smacked him on the arm, accusing him of making her worry “in her condition.” Abjorn did not say or do anything, but continued to wait in stoic silence while the woman packed a bag with his freshly laundered clothes. He did, however, take anything she attempted to carry and offered her his arm when she was ready to leave the cottage.
Eric’s eyes landed on Julia again. She had yet another family around her. The children were hanging onto her skirts, one clinging to her neck and waist, while she gave a one-armed hug to the mother. She had been strong all morning for her people. He hoped for her sake she could keep it up through the day. He judged she would be almost an hour with the villagers. She should still be at the shore when the tide went out. He made his way to Abjorn and interrupted the chandler’s wife in mid-tirade.
“I didn’t ask for your help, you great oaf! So just go! If you want to kill yourself out there in a storm or freeze to death in Norway then go...Go home!” She choked on her tears and Eric stood beside Abjorn and watched her waddle into the cottage. Her pregnant body made a dramatic exit difficult. She stumbled on the threshold, but Abjorn was at her side in a heartbeat. He caught her and gently set her on her feet. She slapped him across the face and slammed the door.
“I said be of use, Abjorn, not antagonize the woman.”
“Her husband was among the dead,” Abjorn said without inflection.
“Is she angry about that or the MØrket sailing?”
“Ell is sad about her husband, but angry about MØrket.” Abjorn set his bags of food and clothes down on the bench by the door and returned to his watch, waiting for his charge to get over her fit and leave the cottage.
“Ell?”
“There are many Mary’s,” Abjorn shrugged, “and Ell-OR-ree is difficult to say.”
“Hn,” Eric agreed. They stood together for a few moments, watching the last of the supplies being loaded into the ship. Mary Ellery’s sobs could be heard through the door, occasionally broken by a string of curses. “You trust me with your life,” Eric stated. Abjorn nodded, and turned a curious gaze on Eric. “Would you trust me with your future as well?”
“Haven’t I already? I signed up with MØrket to get work, and you made me a rich man. It is only the broken promises of a dead king that have kept you from securing more than gold.”
“That is good.” Eric didn’t look at Abjorn, but continued, “I told the men this morning to prepare to leave, but I will return to this island, with every man who wishes it. Lady Julia has offered us land and coin to act as her guard when the Normans attempt to take Aurelius.”
“Offered?” Abjorn looked skeptical. “We have more than enough promises already.”
“Her first payment of coin is coming today, before we leave. The Steward is bringing it from the keep. I will hand it out before we set sail. I will offer to the men to return with me then. She has already begun drawing up a list of the available cottages and farms. Once the survivors have returned and she is certain of who lives, she will finalize a list. She has asked me to review it and decide how to divide the land among the men when I return.”
“That is not just a promise,” Abjorn noted. They stood together in quiet contemplation for a few moments. “Did she offer anything else
?” His tone and expression betrayed nothing, and Eric struggled not to grin and hurt the man’s pride.
“She said the women are not hers to give, we must convince them ourselves.”
“That may be a difficult task.” His eyes slid to the closed cottage door.
“That is your problem. I did tell you to learn English.” Abjorn let out an irritated growl and Eric chuckled. “I may be able to help you with that as well. I have to leave, but this island is in no condition to defend itself.”
“You think the Normans will move that quickly? It will be, at most, a three week trip to Norway.”
“Less time, if I can manage it. But that is long enough for a motivated army - especially for a rich prize. And if winter comes early and strong...I have sailed through much, but I am not God.”
“No, but you are a little bit crazy. And the men half-believe you to be descended from the old gods.”
“In any case, I would like you to stay behind, if you will agree, and take command of the men who remain. Assist Ulrich in defense and keep an eye on things.”
“I would do that,” Abjorn answered quickly.
“Just an eye, old friend. Not a hand or anything else.” Abjorn gave him a dark look and Eric laughed. “Remember, you are convincing, not coercing.”
“What’s the difference?”
Eric and Abjorn discussed which other men might stay behind. Eric needed at least 30 to sail MØrket back to the island. Ten of the men going to Norway were not his, and would not return with him. Twelve men were not able to travel. Three of Eric’s crew would stay in Norway, a few others were more difficult to determine. It would be a small force that stayed, and so must be skilled and capable of thinking quickly should trouble come to the island.
Their conference was interrupted by Steward Galen’s arrival in the village. He was followed a boy laden with a heavy leather satchel. Eric waved them both over. In deference to Abjorn’s unwillingness to go too far from the cottage, Eric summoned his men to gather at the edge of the village, just outside of Mary Ellery’s garden.
“We sail with the tide. Those of you that lost your ships and crews, I will leave you at Stafangr. You will have to find work or passage home from there. A few of you are considering joining me. Please stay to hear what I have to say to my men, the rest of you, get back to work.” Eight men split off from the crowd to begin loading the last of the supplies in MØrket. The traitors were notably absent, having been set with the final task of burying the latrine outside of the village. Despite the forty or so men on the beach, the islanders - most unable to speak Norse - ignored them. It was a sign of how commonplace the sight of Norsemen had become. Eric looked over the crowd, Alvar and Balric were absent. They were assigned to guard duty at the keep. Both had been briefed of Eric’s intentions before they left for the keep that morning. They would stay behind with Abjorn. Bjorn also knew, but he would sail to Stafangar as well.
“We have much to thank the Lady Julia for.” She heard her name and looked up, but Eric focused on the men. “We were offered shelter, food, and medicine when most would have turned us away as their enemy. Many of us have even found friendship here. We are lucky in everything that Aurelius has offered.” There were nods and quiet words of agreement from the crowd. Eric nodded to Bjorn and Abjorn, who moved to stand beside him. “I have thanked the Lady for her generosity, and that of her people, in our time of need. However, now our new friends are in need. You have all heard of the English defeat at Hastings.” The nods and words were more solemn, but every man’s attention was on Eric. “Without their lord and their men, the island will not be able to withstand an attack by the Normans. Lady Julia has offered me employment - and every man who will stand with me.” Murmurs ran through the crowd. Most still seemed respectful and interested. A few looked almost angry, even disappointed. “You have been promised much in the past. I have promised you, and those promises were broken.”
“No,” Torvald the Lean called out. Several men nodded in agreement. “We accepted the work; we choose to sail with you on the words of Hardrada. It was not you who withheld coin and land - it was the King.”
“The horses’ ass,” someone muttered. A few chuckles and endorsements rumbled among the group.
“As you say,” Eric nodded his thanks to Torvald. “But I feel responsible for my ship and my crew, and I would like to offer you a chance to gain what you have lost.” With one hand he lifted the heavy sack Galen’s boy was struggling with. He pulled out a handful of coins then shook the sack to gain their attention. “Lady Julia needs warriors, and she will pay for your services. She has provided your first payment which you may take even if you decide not to return. Those of you who accept this duty, understand that there will be more. I have agreed upon a price with the Lady, and that includes land as well. Think hard on this. If you choose to return to this island with me, you will receive coin and soil, but you will become part of this island.” Eric met the eyes of every man before him, impressing upon them the finality of their decisions. “We sail with the tide, come to me before then with your answer. I intend to stay.”
“As do I,” said Abjorn.
“As do I,” said Bjorn, “and my idiot brother as well.” A few laughed at that, and the men began to talk amongst themselves. Eric handed the coin to Bjorn.
“Divide it among the men,” he named the sum for each man. Bjorn raised a brow.
“That is considerably more than you usually ask for a small battle, and we aren’t even assured to fight.”
“Lady Julia wanted to gain their attention.” Eric blew out a breath and noticed her walking closer. Once she was within earshot he continued, “She could have done it with less drama and saved her coin if she would listen to good advice.”
“It is my gold,” she shrugged, as if she had overpaid for a meat pie instead of providing twelve crowns for each man on his crew. The cost equated to a month’s wages for a trained knight - including room and board. “If I want to pay for services in advance, I will.”
“If you want to invite robbery, you will apparently do that as well.” Eric frowned and Bjorn backed quietly out of the argument to hand out the coins.
“You said some of them might want to bring a wife or even children back with them-”
“A very few,” he interrupted. She waved him off.
“They will need money to move their families, or to buy things from their homeland that they won’t have here. Besides, they have been left with empty hands for too long. They have no reason to trust my word, if they couldn’t trust their king.” She didn’t say it, but Eric understood she was speaking of him.
“Hn,” was all he said.
“Grunting is a sure sign that you won’t admit you’ve lost the argument.” She smiled, her verbal sparring with him making her forget for a moment her grief and the day still ahead of them.
“It would be pointless to argue with someone who won’t listen to sense.”
“If you-” Her name was called by one of the women in the village and Julia quickly lost her smile. “I will be here when you depart.” Her eyes were sad as she waited for his acknowledgement, but he was satisfied that she did not revert to the empty, cold expression of the previous night.
“Yes.”
Eric watched her walk away, and his attention was soon diverted by questions from his men. Some wanted to know more about the forces they might meet, others inquired about their payment. Most simply gave him their decision.
“I’m with you, Vandalsson,” said Torvald.
“I’ll need to send word to my mother,” said Amund Svenson. “She’s been pestering me to get my youngest brother off of the farm. If you think that would be alright with her ladyship?”
“Yes,” responded Eric. “As long as you don’t mind living with him.” Abjorn would command the men who would stay behind, including Balric, Skald and Alvar. Jens and the other injured men would stay as well. Some of those men were not his, but they would be able to stay or leave as they cho
ose once they were healthy.
Most of the men had made their goodbyes and were waiting at the oars with only a few minutes before the tide would change. Four held the ropes to keep MØrket in place while two or three stragglers lingered among the islanders gathered on the beach. The Abbot said a prayer over the ship, and then they were ready to leave. Torvald managed to pull the black-haired Cassandra into a kiss that had the men hooting and whistling. Eric and Abjorn stood at Mary Ellery’s cottage. Eric said he wanted to make certain Abjorn had everything under control, but the big man smirked. Lady Julia had disappeared into the cottage some time earlier. Eric had almost lost patience and prepared to create a scene by storming into the small house to fetch the woman when the door opened.
Mary Ellery came out first, and the eyes of those gathered turned to her while Julia stepped out behind her. Eric took the small opportunity, while attention was on the pregnant woman, to pull Julia into the garden and out of sight. She let out a quiet gasp,
“What-”
“I did not think you would want to speak in front of an audience,” he said simply.
“Thank you,” she paused, looking at the ground. When her gaze found his her expression was serious. “And thank you for doing this. I - we - don’t have many options. Thank you for not taking advantage of us. Thank you for agreeing to help us, and for convincing your men.” He studied her in silence. Her pale skin was lightly dusted with freckles across her nose. Her blue eyes were ringed with sooty lashes. Even with all the risks, she had offered him safe harbor. Even with all she had endured, she had lent her shoulder to her people to lean on in their grief. She was strong, as well as beautiful, but she looked subdued. He wanted to see her spirit again before he left.