Ragnar the Just (Ragnar the Dane)

by Lily Byrne

  Kjartan paused, concerned.

  “Don’t stop now!” snapped Lini. Then he giggled, his eyes wide. So the warrior thrust, suddenly hitting the sweet spot, making Lini cry out with pleasure, trembling, as they both were.

  Lini braced himself, his back arching a little as Kjartan thrust again and again, biting his lip, finding the rhythm, gasping. Oh, this was good, what he wanted, what he needed. Lini’s obvious enjoyment - eyes shut, amber lashes fluttering, lean body quivering, his cock throbbing with a life of its own - clouded Kjartan’s mind. All he could think about was thrusting as hard as he could, never stopping, he couldn’t!

  Lini had forgotten his fears. He held firm against Kjartan’s hard length, steadying himself against the hut wall, every thrust making him weaker and stronger at the same time. He couldn’t think straight, he could only feel, his own cock like a rod, repeatedly pressed by Kjartan’s stomach.

  “Don’t stop!” He didn’t know if he spoke aloud or not through the groans they both uttered. He looked up at Kjartan, loving his expression of pure pleasure.

  With a cry, the warrior shuddered to a halt, still giving small thrusts whenever Lini moved. They both panted, sweat joining them together, and Lini put his hand down to his own aching cock, groaning as he did so. It was overwhelming; his body was satisfied but for this last bit, he just had to - Kjartan pushed his hand away and took hold of it himself, but with only a couple of jerks the hot liquid spurted up over Lini’s stomach.

  Kjartan chuckled, rubbed the cream onto him, then slowly pulled out and lay by his side. They exchanged glances, chests moving up and down, arms brushing against each other’s. After a long time Lini smiled, putting his hands behind his head.

  “Gods, I dunno what to say now.”

  Kjartan put his arms round him. “Don’t say anything. As long as you liked it.”

  “Yes! I didn’t know - I -” He shrugged, not able to form a sentence.

  His lover breathed out with relief. “I’ll never tell anyone. It’s our secret. They wouldn’t understand.”

  “As long as we can - do it again?” Lini couldn’t believe he was already feeling horny again.

  “Yes, but not now. We should get back.” He kissed him gently on the lips.

  *

  As Lini approached his house, he felt like his head was spinning with so many emotions fighting inside. He opened the door quietly, hoping everyone was asleep in the early morning.

  “Where have you been?” Halldora stood, holding Thora’s clothes ready to dress her.

  “I - er - well, I -”

  “I know you’ve been – been - with a man! Someone saw you. Is it true?”

  “Er – um -” His brain wouldn’t think of a lie. He didn’t want to lie.

  “So it is true?” She stared at him, her lip trembling. “How do you think I felt, being told this by a laughing neighbour? They’re all making fun and knowing you’re not a real man!”

  “I am a real man!”

  “Not if you - if you - take it up the arse like a coward! I married you because I wanted a manly man! I thought you’d give me pretty children and be a good father!”

  “I did! I am! I look after all of you!”

  “Well, you aren’t looking after us anymore! I don’t want to be the disgrace of the village! Get out!” Her eyes narrowed with scorn.

  Halldora’s sneering words ‘take it up the arse’ echoed in Lini’s mind. What if Kjartan felt the same way about him now? Despite his assurances, his Danish prejudices would be hard to ignore.

  The children began to wail, and Kori ran out of bed and capered round, crying.

  “But -” began Lini.

  “Go on! Get out! You won’t see the children again. I don’t want you setting a bad example!”

  “But I have to see the children!” Lini’s eyes filled with tears.

  “Daddy!” screamed Kori, flinging himself at his leg. Thora didn’t know what was going on so she cowered in the corner, eyes wide.

  “Get off, Kori. He’s not your father anymore!” Halldora pulled him away, even though he struggled hard. “Go, Lini, or you’ll upset him more.”

  Lini staggered out of the door, blinded by tears. Unfortunately, the row had been loud enough for neighbours to hear, who promptly told their neighbours, and a large crowd had gathered outside.

  The onlookers jeered at him. Some were quiet with shock but most were vocal, sneering and contemptuous.

  “Get out!” roared a man. “You’re sansorthinn and we don’t like your kind round here! Get out before we kill you!”

  “Coward!” shouted another.

  “Acting like a woman!” taunted another.

  More shouts joined these, so Lini set his jaw and strode off as steadily as he could, breaking into a run. Some followed him, but he wasn’t known as Fleet Foot for nothing and soon left them behind, heading for the woods.

  *

  In the fields that day, the sheaves of barley and rye stood together like an audience watching the other stalks being cut ready for winter storage. It would only take a couple more weeks to finish bringing in the harvest. The sun had shone until now, but dark clouds loomed above, threatening rain, which would not be welcome.

  Working away with his sickle, Kjartan looked forward to seeing Lini again after last night. He’d missed him so much the last few weeks.

  “Silverhair.” A Huskarl interrupted his thoughts. “Think you can lift those sheaves?”

  “Of course I can.”

  “You’re not too womanly to do it?” He laughed, and some men watching joined the laughter.

  “You call me womanly? I could kill you for that!”

  Kjartan stepped towards him threateningly. The Huskarl’s nerve broke at the sight of his snarl and he leapt backwards. Kjartan turned to the group, hiding his sinking heart.

  “Anyone else want to call me that?”

  They all shook their heads.

  “Well, get on with your work. I’ve far more experience fighting than you scrawny lot.”

  He turned his back to hide his worried expression. They knew. His secret was out, after all this time. He wasn’t concerned about his own safety - he could defend himself - but Lini? The gentle amber smith only had the fighting school practice, which wasn’t any substitute for real battle experience. He must go to him as quickly as he could.

  *

  Lini didn’t turn up at the school that evening. And neither did half the students. Kjartan told the remaining boys to practise single combat and he gave them marks out of ten, all the while wondering what had happened to his lover. Was he lying beaten and bloody somewhere? His gut twisted at the thought.

  At last the class finished. Should he try Lini’s home or their shelter?

  Visiting his home would attract attention and the shelter would be the place for Lini to be cornered and beaten, if anywhere. He must make sure he was safe.

  It was getting dark, which made it easier for him to steal through the trees, but then it began to rain. His boots slipped on the ground and he had to pick his way slowly and carefully. He’d worn his cloak with a hood to cover his hair, which would gleam in the moonlight and give him away.

  All was dark and quiet when he reached the shelter, so he slipped inside. They had made it cosy, removing all the dead leaves and drying the damp walls, but it looked unwelcoming now.

  “Are you here?” he whispered.

  The heap of bear skins moved and Lini’s tear-stained face showed pale in the half light. Kjartan leapt to embrace him, stroking his hair.

  “What happened?”

  “Someone saw us and told Halldora.” Lini outlined the events of the day, trying not to upset himself by thinking of his children.

  “I thought so. The men at the harvest were insulting me. They don’t usually do that these days.”

  “What are we going to do?”

  Kjartan pushed him gently away and shrugged.

  “So you mean I’m on my own!” snapped Lini. “You despise me now y
ou’ve fucked me and you’re keeping out of it! I -”

  “No! I just can’t think straight if I’m holding you, that’s all.”

  “Oh.” He sagged.

  “I don’t despise you after that. I like you more.”

  Lini blushed.

  “I’ve never been one to do the same as everyone else, so why start now?” Kjartan gave a shaky laugh. “We’ll have to stick together. We’ve only got each other now, because you know what’s going to happen when they see us.”

  “Yes …”

  “They won’t dare accuse me of ergi. They know I’ll kill them, so you’ll be the target.”

  “Looks like it. If I’m out here on my own I’ll be killed. Halldora won’t let me back home. Once she’s made up her mind, that’s it.”

  Kjartan gulped. The death of Lini didn’t bear thinking about.

  “Keep a knife in your boot at all times. And … move in with me and Mildrith. It’ll be safer.”

  “But she won’t like that!”

  “She’ll be alright. Anyway, I’m not going to give her a choice. If she doesn’t let you come and live with us, I’ll move out. We’ll go somewhere on our own.”

  “You’d do that for me? I couldn’t let you!”

  “Well, I would.” He kissed him gently and felt him shivering, so he took off his cloak and wrapped it round him. “Come on.”

  *

  The dark, rainy night meant no one was hanging around, so they reached Kjartan’s home with ease. Lini was still shaking despite the fur cloak.

  Mildrith sat by the fire, eyes half shut, but she jumped at their arrival.

  “Are you alright Lini? You don’t look well.”

  Kjartan took a deep breath. “Halldora’s thrown him out.”

  “What? Why?”

  The men exchanged glances and hesitated.

  “Oh, tell her,” said Lini weakly. “Might as well have done with it.” He looked at his feet.

  “I - I love Lini. Like a wife.” Kjartan put his arm round the amber smith and held him, making him stumble with weariness and emotion.

  Mildrith’s jaw dropped, but before she could speak, Dalla began to cry.

  “Oh. Oh, you do what you like, Kjartan. You always do. I’m exhausted and I’ve got so much to do, I just want to sleep. We’ll sort this out in the morning.” She trudged off to her daughter.

  “You seem to have a more understanding wife than I do,” said Lini, sagging on his feet.

  Kjartan hugged him. “She must be, ‘cos she puts up with me.”

  Mildrith returned with her wailing baby.

  “You’re her father. Can’t you make her sleep?”

  Kjartan took the child and held her upright, bouncing her gently, which made her scream more.

  “Let me,” said Lini, taking her from him and cradling her, looking into her eyes. Dalla stopped mid-cry and gazed back. He murmured a soft, ancient lullaby, rocking her and she gurgled. Her eyelids began to close and soon she slept.

  “She can go back in her cot.” Mildrith held out her arms but Lini shook his head.

  “I’ll sit down with her or she’ll wake up again.”

  Kjartan guided him to a chair where he sat, honey-coloured head drooping.

  “You can stay here,” said Mildrith. “Anyone who can get my child to sleep is worth their weight in timber.”

  “Thank you.” Lini gave in to sleep, his chin resting on his chest.

  “Are you sure?” whispered Kjartan to his wife, not wanting to wake the sleepers.

  “No, but we’ll work something out. I’m too exhausted to think now. If having Lini here stops you disappearing all the time, it’ll have to be that way. He can join our family.”

  He hugged her. “Remember, I love you too, ketta. Just different.” He gathered some bearskins and lay down in front of Lini and Dalla.

  Mildrith got into bed but couldn’t sleep, her thoughts running over and over the news she’d just received about her husband and Lini. It didn’t seem real. Was she dreaming or listening to a story told by an English scop or Danish skald? Her exhausted mind wouldn’t work properly, so it stored her husband’s words in a corner for future consideration.

  *

  The next morning, Lini was reluctant to leave the house, so Mildrith went to fetch water from the well, glad to escape and think about the new situation.

  She’d comforted Kjartan after his beloved Yngvild left him and he’d comforted her after the horrific death of her husband, Herewulf, so they got married. But he’d never looked at her the way he looked at Lini, she realised abruptly. He was her husband, though, the only family she had apart from Dalla, so she didn’t intend to reject him. She couldn’t let her comfortable life slip away easily. It had been too long coming to her after so many years of unhappiness.

  She had left her daughter in the care of the men, with detailed instructions about what to do in any situation, although she was sure Lini could manage fine. He’d already proved his worth settling the baby last night.

  A group of Danish women were walking back with full pails, so she opened her mouth to say hallo.

  They stared at her, then turned away giggling.

  “Why are you laughing at me?” she called after them, suspecting the answer.

  “Your husband is sansorthinn. He is not a proper man,” said one, and the others giggled all the more.

  Mildrith couldn’t think of a retort. Snatches of conversation reached her.

  “Takes it up the arse.”

  “Practises woman’s magic.”

  “Transforms into a mare.”

  And laughter. Constant laughter.

  She fetched the water and trudged back home. Had she done right in letting Lini stay? What choice did she have? She knew all too well that being alone was worse.

  *

  “It’s started,” she told Kjartan and Lini when she got back, setting the pails firmly on the floor.

  “What?”

  “The comments.” She described what had happened.

  “It’ll pass,” said Kjartan optimistically. “They’ll soon find someone else to gossip about.” Lini and Mildrith exchanged glances. “Anyway, I need to get back to the harvest.” Kjartan took his sickle from where it hung on the wall. “If it’s going to keep raining we need to get the last crops in as quick as we can.”

  “And I need to get on with the glasses the Jarl ordered.” Lini put on his cloak.

  “Good luck to you both.”

  The trio embraced each other, feeling as if they were going into battle, and the men set off on their separate ways.

  Everyone they passed sniggered and muttered to each other. By the sixth occasion, Kjartan had had enough. “What is your problem?” he demanded of two men carrying some timber. “Haven’t you seen someone with hair this colour before?”

  “We’ve seen you before. We just didn’t think you were a bitch hound,” said one, smirking at his friend.

  Kjartan bristled.

  “Don’t rise to it,” said Lini. “It’s not worth bothering.”

  “Listen to your wife,” said the man and the pair burst out laughing.

  Lini walked off, leaving Kjartan to follow.

  “You have to ignore it. If you let them get to you, you’ll make it worse,” he said.

  Kjartan shrugged and they parted at the burnt tree.

  *

  Lini was cautious on the way to the forge and entered it warily, half-expecting someone to jump out. But it was deserted.

  The kiln and oven heated up quickly, so he put the metal rod in to collect some blue glass, as the Jarl had ordered. He wanted two glasses of every colour, which would take considerable time and trouble but the payment made it worth it.

  “Morning,” said a voice.

  Lini looked up to see one of the Huskarls, Styrkar, his hair tied back neatly in the warrior’s way. He was a trainee, and quite a hothead according to Kjartan.

  “I’ve come to see if the Jarl’s drinking glasses are ready. He need
s them quickly.”

  “I’m doing them now.”

  “Sure you can manage it?” A smirk played on his mouth.

  “Yes, I’m sure.” Lini sighed, knowing he meant to insult his masculinity.

  “Even though you act like a woman?” he laughed.

  “If you’ve got something to say, say it. Don’t bother hinting.”

  “Well, I have.” Styrkar stepped up to him menacingly. “No one round here likes your sort. Why don’t you just leave?”

  “And stop working on the Jarl’s glasses? What would he do without me?”

  “Don’t make fun of me!” Styrkar’s nostrils flared.

  “I wasn’t. I was just saying.”

  He bristled with unfocused indignation. “Well, just watch yourself, amber smith.”

  Lini smiled to himself. If such insults were the worst Styrkar could hurt him with, he didn’t have anything to worry about.

  *

  In the wheat field, Kjartan cut the plants with his sickle, its crescent blade severing the plants from the ground like an executioner, the wooden handle fitting his palm perfectly. Valbrand, the smith, had made it especially for him as a wedding present and he kept it in prime condition, as without it he and his family would go hungry.

  Women gathered the wheat stalks together to tie it into sheaves and carried them to the cart to be taken to the barn for storage. They didn’t talk to him, just took the wheat from him as he cut it.

  Apart from these women, he now worked by himself as the other men kept away after the revelations about his life. It seemed he was always destined to be unpopular, but at least this time he had a wife, a lover and a child. Thoughts of them kept the isolation distant.

  A shadow fell across him as he bent to pick up the latest handful of stems.

  “We don’t want your help,” said one of the farmhands, a broad, ruddy faced man. He was accompanied by another burly labourer.

  “Why not? I’m strong and quick at this work.”

  “You know why. We don’t want effeminate, cowardly men helping with our harvest.”

  Kjartan looked sceptically at him and stood up, rotating the sickle in his hand like a sword. Both men flinched.