by Andromeda -
“Gala is with child again,” Kaya answered with a shrug. “As if that is new, of course. Alrik and his mother have spent lots of time with the Jarl, something that we all know Gala doesn’t like.”
Rashida chuckled softly. “That we do.”
“And there is talks of Alrik and his mother leaving soon,” Kaya continued.
Rashida’s heart stopped in her chest. “I…It is?”
Kaya nodded. “Yes. They have spent a lot of time in the village already, I heard, and Lady Ingrid needs to return to her own village and people.”
A lump formed in Rashida’s throat. A lump that she couldn’t swallow. “I…I see…”
Kaya tilted her head. “I sense this displeases you?”
It did. She didn’t want to see him leave, but Rashida swallowed her feelings and forced a cool face. “No, it does not,” she said with a shake of her head. “He…He can do whatever he wants.”
Kaya and her brother glanced at each other, their eyebrows raised. Each had a different thought. Kaya knew that the idea of Alrik leaving bothered her friend, and it bothered herself a bit as she knew that Alrik made Rashida very happy. Sven, on the other hand, was overjoyed by this, as he knew that with Alrik gone, Rashida might give him a chance for her heart. Ever since she came to the village, Sven had a light affection for her, and as she blossomed, so did his feelings. He knew, of course, that he had no chance if Alrik was here, however…if he left, then maybe, just maybe, Rashida might give him a chance.
Chapter Thirteen: Questions of Kingship
Henrik laughed as he held the jeweled sword high in the air, the cawing and black fluttering of ravens filled the skies. Rashida saw gold coins falling from the heavens, the clouds bursting open as light shone down, showering him with blessings from the gods…
Rashida woke with a start, her eyes wide as she panted heavily, her heart thudding in her chest. She had it again, the vision of Henrik becoming king. This marked the fifth night in a row of this happening. It was becoming more vivid, more realistic, and she knew that unless she told the Jarl, then they would continue, most likely driving her crazy.
With a sigh, she stood up from the bed and reached for her cloak, which she pulled over her shoulders. Bastet growled, slightly annoyed that Rashida was moving, but the mountain lion knew that she must go with her mistress. Rashida knew her siblings would be asleep for a couple more hours, and she knew that they would be fine. Thus, she began her walk back to the village.
It didn’t take them long to reach the village, and because it was the early hours, hardly anyone was awake. As she reached her old home, she couldn’t help but stop and run her hands over the walls as she sighed. Memories came back to her, both good and bad, yet she knew that life could have been worse.
“Rashida?” a voice said, which stopped her from remembering.
Rashida lifted her head and saw Sven. “Yes?”
“What are you doing out here?” he asked.
She shrugged with a soft smile. “Flashes of the past. Guess I remembered when I first got here. Now look at me.”
“A powerful woman in your own right,” he said with a nervous smile. “Beautiful too.”
“You think I’m beautiful?” she asked with a tilt of her head.
“I don’t think it,” he said, seizing his chance, “I know it.”
“That’s very kind of you,” she said.
Sven took a deep breath. “Rashida…” he began.
He was cut off by the opening of a door behind them, and it was one of Henrik’s personal servants. He asked Rashida what she was doing there, and she told the man that she needed to see the Jarl. As the servant led her in, she glanced at Sven, who gave her a soft smile before he turned away.
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It was warm in Henrik’s study, and as Rashida stood to wait for him, she looked over the books he had. Most were taken from the lands he raided, and she knew that he couldn’t read them, but she thought that maybe she could. She made a mental note to ask him if she might take one when he came
It didn’t take Henrik long to come to the study, and he softly smiled at the young woman. “How might I help you?”
“My lord,” Rashida said slowly. “I believe it’s more so how I can help you.”
Henrik tilted his head as he listened to her tell him of her visions, of him becoming King of Demark, the country that he lived in. He was silent, listening to every word, though his mind worked to try and understand what was being said.
“Have you told anyone of this?” he asked her when she was finished.
“No one, my lord,” Rashida answered. “However, these visions have…troubled me.”
“They trouble me as well,” Henrik said. “There is a king, and he has many sons. He would not be happy to hear of this. I would suggest that you keep this to yourself.”
Rashida nodded and she understood what he was telling her. However, someone was listening in on their conversation. Gala, who was annoyed that Henrik had to get up, had her back pressed against the wall as she listened to their conversation. Her blood bubbled with excitement at Rashida’s words.
If Henrik became king, then that would mean she would become queen. She would become a more powerful lady than her own mother, a Jarl’s daughter and wife, ever was. She could reach the highest level of power there was for women in their society, but Henrik had to become king first. With a smirk to herself, she slowly backed away and rushed back to their bed, her mind working on a plan.
Chapter Fourteen: An Invitation from the King
The gods blessed Henrik in all that he did. Nearly every quarter of the year, he went out to raid, and every time he left, he came back victorious. The village soon transformed from a small, minor fishing village; to a large trading port. People from all over the world traveled to Safirinnsjø to partake in the vast spoils the village held. Spices, furs, silk, herbs, gold, jewels, slave and more all passed through Safirinnsjø.
New homes at to be built, as the population almost doubled in a very short time. The controlled territory that Henrik held in his hands soon traveled further and further inland. His small village was quickly becoming a kingdom, a factor that a lot of people took notice in.
The King of Demark, while he heard of Henrik and didn’t pay any attention to him in the past, began to hear of Henrik’s exploits and treasures. A warrior nearing the end of his life, he knew a threat to his power when he saw one. The whole world was abuzz with the great stories of Henrik Ironside, his travels, his many sons and more.
“I have to put an end to this,” the king said to his eldest son.
“How do you plan to do that, father?” his son asked.
“We will do what we normally do when a menace rears its ugly head,” the king said. “We cut it off.”
Plans instantly were put into place for their warriors to begin to train to the best of their ability, while allegiances were made with their allies. The king was taking no chances with this, yet he knew that he must be crafty. He, like all others, had heard of the powerful Seiðr that lived in his village. He had heard of her mighty power and he had heard of what she did to that one Jarl who tried to attack the village. He wasn’t going to lead his men into a slaughter, so he had to be smart about this.
An idea came to him almost instantly. Like himself, Henrik was bound by tradition and with a Seiðr the presence of the gods was strong and a holiday was getting close. The Spring Harvest was nearing, and a time for joyful celebration, which if he played his cards right would quickly turn to rivers of blood.
He sat down at his desk and wrote a letter to Henrik, inviting both he and his family to come to the capital to celebrate the new harvest. He also asked that Henrik brings his Seiðr, which the king planned on either swaying to his side, or killing alongside Henrik.
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Henrik looked at the letter before him. He knew better than to refuse the King of Demark, but he sensed something was hidden under his ‘kind’ invitation. N
ot knowing what to do, he summoned Rashida to give him guidance.
The girl was shocked and a bit nervous that he would ask such a thing of her, but she held her head high and bowed before him. As he held out the letter, the moment her fingers touched it, she saw flashes of the king and his plans for him. Quickly, she dropped it and took several steps back.
“I see death, my lord,” she said. “A death trap is being planned as we speak.”
Henrik frowned and then sighed. “I would not expect anything else, as I had thought the king would be paranoid by now.”
“I do not think…he knows that I know he is planning your death,” she said. “I would not advise against going, however…”
“And why is that?” Gala burst out. “When my husband is being drawn into his death.”
“I said I see death,” Rashida said as she turned to the woman. “I said I see a death plot. I did not say how I saw it play out.”
Henrik tilted his head as he thought this over and then looked to a slave. “I want you to send a messenger to Ingrid,” he said. “Tell her that I want both she and my son to come with us when we leave.”
Gala flushed red. “But, my lord husband…”
“Forgive me, but did I ask your opinion?” Henrik asked. “No? Then please hold your tongue and open your mouth when I ask. I trust Ingrid with my life, and she and my son have been away for almost a year. I want them back and I want them to come with us. Am I understood?”
“Yes,” Gala said tightly, though she looked less than pleased.
At the mention of Alrik, Rashida felt herself flush slightly, and she had to take several deep breaths to calm herself. It’s been almost a year since she last saw him, and she wondered if he had changed more in that short time. She felt her desire to see him, her desire for him, begin to rise.
She couldn’t lie to herself and say that she didn’t wish to see him again. She couldn’t lie to herself and say that she didn’t wish to feel his kisses. She couldn’t lie to herself and say he wasn’t in her dreams at night. How she would be asleep, only to wake up, gasping out as a muted cry of release was on her lips. The thought of Alrik, a man who knew what he wanted, coming back to be in her presence made her nervous, but she wanted him so badly.
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The boat ride to the capital of Demark didn’t take long, though when they walked through the royal palace, almost everyone had to gasp in amazement and shock. Never had they seen such luxury, yet the air of tenseness was among them.
Henrik had a plan in mind, a plan in case anything went wrong and the king tried to murder them all. Yet, he knew that he must pretend to act as if nothing was amiss. He had told the plan to only a select few: Gala, Ingrid, Alrik, Gerik, and of course, Rashida all knew. The others were a small handful of warriors he knew that he could trust.
When they were shown to their chambers, the king summoned him to talk, which left the other members of his family to their own devices. Rashida walked the gardens, exploring and running her hands over the different flowers and plants. It was only a twig snapping behind her, which made her turn.
Alrik emerged from behind a tree and smiled at her, his face part-way covered by a well-kept beard. He had changed during their time apart, as Rashida noted that he had more tattoos than she remembered and his hair was longer and shoulders broader.
Before she could stop him, he rushed to her. His large hands wrapped around her waist and pulled her against his muscled form. He backed her against a tree as he kissed her passionately and deeply. He tasted as sweet as a golden apple taken from one of the gardens of the gods. Reaching down, he gripped her waist and lifted her up. His hand slipped under her dress as he slowly began to slide his fingers up her thigh.
“How I’ve missed you so,” he whispered between kisses. “How I missed your touch, your smell, your taste…everything I have missed…”
“A…Alrik…” she stammered. “Please…” She gasped as she felt his hand at her core, a finger already inside her.
“Please…” he whispered. “We both know that you desire me, that I desire you. Why must you fight it…”
“Because I must,” she groaned. The feel of his finger made it hard for her to concentrate. “I must…resist…”
“You love me!” he said firmly. “Just as I love you.”
“I also love my freedom,” she said. “I have been a slave for almost a decade. Now that I am free, I do not plan to give it up. Not even…for you.”
Alrik withdrew his hand and looked at her, his eyes blazing. “You do not mean that.”
Rashida tried to swallow the lump in her throat. “B…But I do…I can’t love you and be a Seiðr…and your lover. I have to say no.”
He let her go so suddenly that she almost dropped to her knees, but she forced herself to stand strong. “You do not mean that.”
“I…I do,” she said. “I really do…”
His hand wrapped around her throat tightly as he pulled her close, his blue eyes boring into her green. “No, you do not. I can see it in your eyes. You love me, and you never will stop loving me. I do not care if you are Seiðr, as I will accept that part of your life. But know this, I have said it and will continue to say it: You. Are. Mine. Thor himself is going to have to tear you from my hands when they are up your skirt.” He let her go, but he continued to look into her eyes. “The next time we meet, I will not stop at a kiss, I will not stop at a simple touch. The next time we meet, after this harvest, I will not stop until you are crying out my name in passion.”
Chapter Fifteen: The Kingmaker
Drums thundered through the air, their music calling Rashida. The Spring Harvest had begun, and as the animals were getting lined up to be sacrificed, Rashida was nervous. This was going to be her first bit event, as the king’s priests, once they heard she had come, wished for her to lead the ceremonies. Twelve of every kind of beast was going to be sacrificed this night: horses, cattle, ducks, geese, chickens, sheep, goats and more. And…man.
Rashida swallowed nervously. Twelve men, handpicked by the king himself were going to be sacrificed tonight. Their throats were going to be cut, then their bodies would hang from twelve sacred trees to water the ground with their blood. All this was in thanksgiving to the gods, and to celebrate the beginning of spring.
As Rashida pulled on the white dress that once belonged to Astrid, she couldn’t help but wish with all her might that her mentor was here to help her. She needed help, she needed someone to guide her, yet Astrid was with the gods now and was looking down upon her.
Gently, she pressed her hand to the amber charm on her necklace, a whisper of a prayer on her lips as she asked for the gods to both bless and guide her. She prayed that she wouldn’t mess anything up, but instead, did everything right and not embarrass herself tonight. When her prayers were finished, she exhaled deeply and then stood up, Bastet at her side.
“Are you ready?” she asked her Sjeldyr.
Bastet nodded, and as one, they turned to the door and stepped out. Priests stood on either side, large wooden bowls in their hands, and when they saw her, they all bowed deeply, offering up the bowls.
“Arise,” Rashida said in a clear voice. “Come, we must do our gods work.”
The priests formed two lines behind her. Some held horn bowls and others held rattles and horns in their hands. With Bastet at her side, Rashida slowly made her way to the place where the sacrifices were going to take place. A large white circle had been drawn with chalk, sacred runes sketched out. Each of the animals that were to be sacrificed had the same white markings on their bodies. The men who had been chosen had white paint on them instead.
Torches lit the way to the altar where Rashida could see the knife that waited for her. The king and his family, Henrik and his family, and many more were waiting for them and Rashida didn’t have to look around to know that Alrik was there with his mother.
His words still rang in her mind. His claim on her body was still a fact. She knew that he w
ould keep his word. He was a Norseman. He wouldn’t stop until he claimed her body and her soul for his own. She wanted him, she knew that, but she was also scared. She wasn’t sure what marriage in his culture was like. In Egypt, the husband and wives were equal, though in some cases, the wife held more power if she was of higher breeding.
From what she’d seen of Henrik and Gala’s relationship, she saw that Gala was expected to be seen and not heard whenever Henrik was around, and to give him intimate attentions whenever he wished. Perhaps not all relationships were like that, but she didn’t want to take that chance.
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The drums stopped the moment Rashida stood behind the altar. Everyone looked at her with mystified eyes as she bent down to pick up the knife. She looked at the metal; a white bone handle with a blade that could cut anything. She knew that this knife was meant to kill. This knife was sacred.
“Tonight,” she declared in a loud voice. “We give thanks to the High Mother, the one who we pray to for fertility. Tonight, we pray to Freyja!”
“FREYJA!” the crowd chanted. “FREYJA! FREYJA!”
Rashida held up her hand for silence. “Tonight, Freyja will receive our sacrifices! May she find them worthy!”
The priests began to chant and sing the sacred songs as one by one, the animals were led to Rashida. She took the knife and slowly slid it across her palm before she began to mark the bodies of all that were to be given to the goddess.
“Goddess of life,” the priests whispered. “Goddess of magic…Goddess of love…Goddess of fertility…accept our offerings, accept our prayers…”
Rashida herself didn’t slit the throats of the animals, but she watched as most of their blood was gathered in large bowls that were then carried to her. Two small horn bowls were dipped into them, then carried to Rashida. The priests that held them lifted them high and then overturned them. The crimson flood washed over the young Seiðr and even dripped onto Bastet.