She wanted to believe him, honestly she did, but her grandmother’s blood running through her veins guarded her heart and she was still uncertain. She felt the sudden stab of pain in her chest that told her things weren’t going to turn out as planned. Then the realization came to her that if he left today on the longboats without her, he would never return to be able to keep his promise.
A horn sounded from the shore – the low, sad wail snaking through the peaceful air like an omen she wished she could ignore. The sound caused a flock of black-backed gulls to rise up in the air and circle above the longboats before heading out toward the sea to feed.
Brandr helped Kadlin to her feet. Then taking her hand in his, they ran down the hill and back toward the village where everyone was making preparations to send the party of men off to sea. They followed the winding, beaten path through the village of longhouses made from wattle and daub, topped off with thatched roofs. Each house was large enough to accommodate several families, and also their animals that lived in a byre at one end, and under the same roof.
Down the hill and in the distance, five longboats could be seen at the shore, ready for the trip over the sea to the coasts of Northumbria. No one knew the way for sure, but the jarl was sure they could find the same shores off the little island of Lindisfarne. This had been the island that housed a Christian monastery where the monks worshipped their own god, not the Norse gods of Odin, Thor or Freyja. Viking raiders had raided the monastery just five years earlier and brought back with them gold and silver and more wealth than one could even imagine.
“Come. See me off,” Brandr told her. “My father will be wondering where I am.”
They pushed through the throes of mostly women and children who were bringing baskets of smoked meat, dried bilberries, hazelnuts and seeds, and fresh baked bread of oats and barley to the men for their journey. Others carried animal skin flasks of ale and mead and water from the spring for the men.
The longboats were being loaded with battle axes, swords, spears, and even a long battering ram and several scaling ladders as well. Their round, wooden shields were painted in bright colors of blue and red, and hooked onto the outside of the ship, leaving room for the protruding oars.
They made their way down to the shore where dozens of Viking warriors were embracing their wives and children, and saying what could very well be their last goodbyes. Everyone was excited for the opportunity to venture to new lands and bring back wealth that they could trade and use to make their lives better.
“Mother,” called Kadlin, seeing her mother standing on the shore with her youngest brother, six-year-old Ospak in her arms. Her sister, Asa, stood next to her, holding the hand of their other brother, Orri. “Are you going with father on the raid?” That sick feeling was back in her gut as she waited for her mother’s answer.
“I will not go this time, Kadlin, as I am with child.” Her mother, Signy, smiled and held her palm over her stomach to prove her point.
“Really. How wonderful!” This was an unexpected but welcome surprise for Kadlin. While Kadlin was already fourteen years of age and her younger sister, Asa, was twelve, their brothers were much younger. And now her mother would have a baby again. She was relieved to hear this, because that meant her mother would be safe from the awful vision she had about the upcoming raid.
“The jarl wants you to go with them on the raid this time,” her mother told her. At first Kadlin thought she was jesting, until her mother explained why. “He wants you there to read the runes and talk to the gods for them. He said you’d be able to help them find their way and not get lost at sea. He also said you’d be able to decipher whatever messages the gods have to guide them.”
“Me?” This isn’t what Kadlin wanted to hear. She had never actually talked to the gods before and this was not the time to try it. “It’s obvious I am not a warrior and have no skill as a shieldmaiden, but neither have I ever really talked to the gods,” she retorted.
“I’ve started training as a shieldmaiden,” said her sister proudly from her mother’s side, raising her chin high in the air. “And when I’m of age, I’ll go on the longboats and raid with the men. I’ll not be afraid like you, Kadlin.”
“Asa, hold your tongue,” she scolded her younger sister. “I’m not a coward. I’m concerned because I’ve had a vision and it wasn’t good.”
“You just admitted you can’t talk to the gods, so your visions meaning nothing at all,” rallied her sister.
Kadlin looked over to Brandr in desperation. “Tell your father it’s not safe to go. Please. Tell him the raid should be cancelled.”
“I can’t do that,” said Brandr with a slow shake of his head. “Not unless you’ve actually had a warning from the gods themselves.”
“I’ve had a vision,” she explained. “I don’t believe I’ve actually communicated with the gods, but my visions have often come true.”
Brandr perused her for a second with curiosity, but she still saw the excitement glowing in his eyes at the anticipation of his first raid. She thought he was going to berate her, but instead he encouraged her to use her special skills. “Your grandmother often talked to the gods and got the answers we needed to protect us on our raids. You can do it, too,” he assured her. “You should come with us.”
Kadlin didn’t think she could do it, nor did she really want to. She reached down to the small canvas bag tied to her waist, feeling for the bone runes inscribed with letters and symbols that her grandmother had used to decipher the messages of the gods. She’d given the runes to Kadlin on her deathbed, and told her that she was the next seer of the village and to be proud of her gift.
Still, Kadlin never liked having this gift. If she didn’t give the jarl and the warriors what they wanted, she could be banned as an outcast. She’d be shunned from the clan and sent away from the village to live a lonely life by herself on a desolate island somewhere. This was a very precarious position to be in. Especially if she wanted to marry the jarl’s son. She could not deny the jarl his wish. Still, she didn’t want to go.
“Kadlin,” came the jarl’s voice from behind her and she turned to see Brandr’s father, Gunnar, approaching. His brother by marriage, Skuti, was at his side. Skuti was Brandr’s greedy, eccentric uncle who only thought about himself. “I want you with us to read the runes and talk to the gods to give us the upper hand and keep us protected during the raid,” the jarl told her.
“I . . . I . . .” She was trying to guard her words, but didn’t know how to say it. “Please don’t ask me to do that.” She grabbed for the pouch of runes, gripping it like a lifeline. She was considered as naught but a witch by some of the clan, including Brandr’s uncle. She wished now her father had never told the jarl about her newfound gift of inner sight. She didn’t know if she truly could contact the gods someday like her grandmother had been able to do, but neither did she really want to. All she wanted was to be married and raise a family and farm the land. She didn’t want to be responsible for the welfare of an entire Viking village.
“Thor and Odin will watch over us, as well as the goddess Freyja,” the jarl told her. “All you need to do is tell us what they say.”
“That’s right,” agreed Brandr. “We know our death is already planned since the day we’re born, so there is no need to fear anything. We’ll either end up in Valhalla with Odin or in Folkvangr with the goddess Freyja.”
“Only if you die as a warrior in battle,” sneered Skuti. “We all know those who die a less than heroic death end up in Helgafjell.”
Kadlin had heard the stories of Helgafjell. It was where those went who died of old age or an illness. All Viking warriors wanted their deaths to be heroic so they could end up in one of the halls of Asgard – the home of the gods – when they left this world and went on to live in the afterlife.
“Kadlin is right,” Brandr agreed, surprising her. “It will be too dangerous for her, Father. I am going to marry Kadlin when we return. Let her talk to the gods before we leave a
nd stay here in the village, instead.”
“Our fates are planned when we’re born, just like you said, Son. So what are you afraid of? If she’s meant to die – or if any of us are, we’ll not be able to stop it. Now, she will come with us to help guide us right to our mark or there is no use for her in this village. If we get blown off course and lost at sea, we’ll be happy she’s along to talk to the gods and get us back on course.”
Not having any other choice but to go with them, Kadlin kissed her mother and siblings goodbye. She saw her father, Oliver, watching from the ship, but her mind was too muddled to tell if he was proud, scared, or happy she was going. Her mother handed her a bag with some of her things, and though her face showed no signs of worry, she saw the wetness in her mother’s eyes.
“Take care of her, Brandr,” her mother called out to them as they hurried to the longboat.
“I will watch over her and bring her home alive. I promise,” he said, giving his word once again, that only sent an icy chill through Kadlin’s body.
The ships were loaded and they left shore quickly, before Kadlin could ponder the situation further. The long wooden benches of the boat were filled with Vikings, and their supplies were pushed to the center of the shallow draft, clinker built vessel, as well as to the sides, leaving room for the oarsmen. These ships were built for raiding, and they only had a few. Kadlin knew the odds were already stacked against them, but there was nothing she could do to stop the jarl from going after his preconceived treasure.
*
They were blown off course twice on the journey and Kadlin had used her inner sight to tell them in which direction to go. They thought she had talked to the gods, but she wasn’t sure she had. She just heard voices in her head telling her things. She didn’t know if it was her own thoughts or perhaps she had been hearing the voices of Odin, Freyja, and Thor after all.
As they got closer and closer to the shores of Northumbria, the feeling of doom intensified within her. She pulled out her runes, shaking them and sprawling them onto the floor of the boat, hoping to clear her head of her worry and get a positive answer. They’d been at sea for a good day and night now, but she was sure they’d see shore at any moment. She looked to her runes one last time to try to assure herself that she and Brandr would indeed come back alive and be able to be married after all.
She didn’t like what she saw. Most of the runes were reversed. An upside down letter or symbol always meant trouble and hardships. Unfulfilled results, dire challenges and difficulties awaited them. The results were even worse than her vision from the day before, and all her wishing that the situation would change wouldn’t make it so. She saw much death and destruction and something that she couldn’t really decipher.
“Land straight ahead,” shouted out the jarl, and the men roared and rowed faster in anticipation of making it to the shore. The large, square, red and white striped sail fluttered in the breeze as they prepared to lower it. The elongated wooden prow with the carved head of a dragon led the way to what could be their final destination in this lifetime. The boat glided over the water in a slick, fast motion, able to sail through fjords and over shallow inlets because of the way the boat was constructed.
The longboats finally came to a rest on the shores of Northumbria. The tide was low but still they were able to sail right up to the jetty of land. In eager anticipation, the men jumped from the boats into knee-high water as the boat came to a stop.
Kadlin heard the cries of warriors in her head, sounding so unlike the battle cry they shouted forth right now. The air held the scent of defeat, but no one but her felt the doom and despair that awaited them on this foreign land. “Please, don’t go ashore,” she cried out to the jarl. “Listen to me – it’s not safe.”
“Have the gods told you we shouldn’t?” asked the jarl, and it was all she could do to keep from lying. But she couldn’t pretend to have made a connection with their deities, or she might be struck down dead for her deception. She just shook her head sadly.
“It looks safe to me,” growled Skuti, arming himself with a spear and his sword. “We can’t let the spakona keep us from our treasure.”
Kadlin didn’t like being referred to as a spakona, even if it was the name for a seer. Still, she held her tongue.
“Let’s go!” he shouted excitedly, raising his round wooden shield high above his head, getting a roar of response from the rest of the raiders.
“Bring back all you can and don’t hesitate to kill anyone in your way,” shouted the jarl, jumping from the boat and holding his sword high in the air, urging his men to follow him.
Kadlin looked up the hill to see what she guessed was a Christian monastery. She’d heard stories of these from the men of the village who’d relayed the facts of the massacre at the Lindisfarne Monastery years ago by other Viking warriors. She’d heard about the amount of gold and silver, and also all the innocent monks who were killed in the process. She wasn’t sure where they’d landed, but hoped this wasn’t the same place.
The monastery was a wooden fortress that had a huge ornate cross fastened atop the building and a large bell tower overlooking the sea. The bell clanged in warning from the high tower, announcing their arrival. It only seemed to roil the Vikings more. They shouted and ran up the hill with shields and weapons in hand. Several men grabbed the long, heavy battering ram and others took the climbing ladders and followed.
Kadlin jumped to her feet and grabbed Brandr’s hand to stop him from going. She looked down to the runes again, to assure herself it wasn’t her own fears clouding her judgment. It wasn’t. The message of the runes was clear. There would be many deaths today and a surprise of some sort. They weren’t safe. She had to try one last time to warn him. “Don’t go, Brandr. Something isn’t as it seems. I feel as if none of us are safe. Something very horrible is about to happen.”
“Brandr, come,” shouted his father, and the boy looked up and nodded. His hand went to his battle axe at his side and he picked up the large wooden shield – one of his only means of protection. The men in her village were not wealthy or they would have had helms and shirts made of chain mail. Not many of them, except for the jarl and his close relatives, even had swords. They used spears instead. The same spears they used along with bows and arrows for hunting. They didn’t have many bows and arrows, and looking around, Kadlin realized they had left them behind for the women to use to gather food.
“You stay here in the boat and wait for us, Kadlin.” Brandr removed his seax, knife, from his weapon belt and slipped it into her hand. “Protect yourself if anyone comes for you, but I promise I will be looking after you as well.”
“Don’t make promises you might not be able to keep,” she told him, frustrated that they’d asked for her guidance yet ignored anything she had to say. They were all too anxious to pillage the monastery and bring back the wealth their village so desperately needed to survive.
“I will keep my promise,” he assured her, reaching out and touching the flower tied into her braid. It was wilted and she couldn’t help thinking it was a bad omen. “This flower is proof of my word I’ve given you. We will be together soon and we will marry.” He ran his fingers over her cheek in one last endearing gesture and turned and headed off with the rest of the Vikings to battle.
“Don’t forget me,” she called after him, but he was already gone.
Kadlin hurried back and collected her runes, pushing them back into the pouch at her waist. She was scared and didn’t like this dreadful feeling at all. She’d been raised to be strong like her parents, even if she wasn’t a warrior.
The wind picked up and a strong gust unraveled the end of her braid. The flower Brandr had put there blew away on the breeze, landing on the shore just beyond the water off the bow of the ship.
“Nei!” she cried out, her hand grasping for it, but only closing on air. She saw the flower tumbling over and over in the breeze, and just watched as their promise of love got further and further away.
&n
bsp; “I need to get it back.” Focused on naught more than the Forget-me-not, she raised a leg over the side of the longboat and slipped down into the water. Holding up the wet ends of her skirt, she hurried to shore. She bent down to pick up the flower just as it blew further away from her and she had to run halfway up the hill before she was actually able to catch it.
She picked it up and brushed it off, putting it back into her braid. She could hear the sound of the Vikings shouting as they attacked the monastery, and also the bell in the tower still clanging loudly, sounding an alarm that could be heard across the land and far out to sea.
She turned to go back to the longboat but stopped dead in her tracks when she heard a new sound – the rumbling of hoofbeats upon the well-trodden path leading into the woods. None of the Norsemen had horses with them and she sincerely doubted the holy monks would have any either. Horses were expensive and these monks were said to have taken the vow of poverty with their pious ways of living.
Her head snapped upward and she gasped as a small army of armored men on horseback burst forth from behind the cover of the trees. They were donned in metal-plated chest pieces or chain mail, and wore helms upon their heads for protection as well. They shouted and rode furiously up the hill with long swords raised in the air. The Vikings were scaling the walls of the monastery using their wooden ladders now and also swinging the battering ram against the closed and locked gate.
“Nei!” she cried out, knowing the Norse warriors’ furs and sealskins instead of armor would be of little protection. They had their wooden shields to use as a barrier, but it was still no match to the soldiers on horseback with protective armor and long swords.
The vision flashed through her head again, and she saw the ground run red with Viking blood, trailing to the sea where the water turned red as well. She closed her eyes, willing the vision to leave her. But hearing the screams of the men and the sound of clashing swords, her fear worsened.
Sirens of the Northern Seas: A Viking Romance Collection Page 34