by L. E. Waters
I’ve heard of mushrooms the warriors eat that make them fight like berserkers, and there are certain mushrooms no one can eat and live to tell about. The one with the red-and-white dots are the latter. I take my shirt off, pick the mushroom with it, and run to Ragnar’s farm up the road. I duck between the fence rails, head right to the dugouts, and search the open windows quietly. I know there are no other thralls on the property, so all I have to worry about are the dogs. There, inside the second outbuilding, lies Una, curled up, her hands tucked under her head, and wrapped in my blanket. I check for dogs within and then open the door slowly. I walk hunched over inside the tiny space and tap her on the shoulder. Una leaps from the bed and flies back across the room like I’ve never seen her do before. She pulls her blanket up to her chest until she sees it’s me.
“Liam, what are you doing here?” She clambers to the window to search.
“It’s still early. He isn’t awake yet.”
She turns to stare at my bare chest and asks, “What happened to your shirt?”
I open up the bundle, and she crawls over, curious to see what I brought.
“A mushroom?” She seems equally confused and disappointed.
My eyes light up. “A poison mushroom!”
“For me?” She looks like she is considering it.
“No! For you to feed to him.”
Her mouth shuts, she glances in his direction out the window, and then turns back to me. “Do you think he could tell if I cooked it?”
“I was thinking you could cut it up into little pieces and make a stew. Be sure to pretend to eat it yourself, though.”
She scoffs. “He never shares his food. I only get the food that is headed over to the pigs.”
“So then try it. What is the worst that can happen? Be careful to chop it up real small so he can’t see the red.”
Hearing the rooster crow and seeing her eyes widen, I shove the shirt in her hands. Running out, I leap over the fence, this time clearing it, and then sprint all the way back to the farm. Over the next few days, I wait for any sign that Una has done what we’d planned. I watch the roads for carts or pyres burning but see nothing. A week later, I see an unfamiliar man appear, bringing Una up the road to our farm. Rolf speaks with him while I watch from behind the dugout. My heart races as the man leaves Una there, wearing my old shirt, and takes a small bag with him. Rolf speaks to Una for a moment and as soon as he turns to go into the house, she runs straight to me and embraces me so hard I fall over.
We both laugh and hurry into the dugout.
Once inside she says out of breath, “I did just what you said! I cut the red mushroom into tiny pieces and made a thick chicken-and-barley soup. I put edible mushrooms in so that if he were to notice a piece, he would think it was some of those. He ate two bowls, belched, and ate another before going to bed. In the middle of the night, I heard a commotion and saw him staggering around outside. He went crashing into everything, mumbled the strangest things, cursed at the cows, and swatted at the air! He stumbled onto the road and took off toward town. His brother came a day later to say he found him dead on the side of the road.”
“Why didn’t I see smoke, then?”
“His brother took him to the next village where he was from, then came back for the things he inherited. He asked me who owned me before, and since he wanted to dispose of me fast, he sold me back to Rolf! At half the price, from what I could hear.”
“I am so glad you’re back.” I give her another hug.
She smiles and pulls out my blanket from her bag. “It’s yours again.”
Sleeping next to Una makes everything better. Even though I had to explain what happened to Erna and how Thora hasn’t left the house since, our dugout feels happy again.
Chapter 9
We have one month together before more bad news comes. Rolf returns from the village with Inga on a Saturday. Thora still hasn’t left her bed. Rolf goes in to her as soon as he arrives back, and Thora immediately comes out screaming.
Rolf tries uselessly to calm her down. “It will only be for a year or two. Chieftain Toke needs to settle Newry.”
Newry… That name was in my old language and brought back a well-stowed memory.
“Leave me, then!” she yells, madder than I’ve ever seen her.
“Inga can stay and she’ll manage the farm. You must come with me.”
She screams again and runs to the place I knew she’d go. I find her in the spot where we covered Erna in flowers, hunched over in tears. I put my hand on her shoulder, and she cries even louder, reaches over, and pulls me into her. Thora holds me and cries for a few minutes, and when she lets go, I try to dry her tears with my shirtsleeve.
“I will come with you.”
She laughs a little through her tears. “What would I do without you, Liam?”
“You won’t have to find that out since I’ll always be with you.”
“Promise?” Her voice breaks as she looks in my eyes.
I glare back, trying to convince her. “Always.”
She laughs and hugs me again, and we walk back, holding hands until she sees Rolf. He takes her back inside, looking pleased that she has come to her senses. I go back to the dugout and tell Una that I’ll be leaving. Then she starts crying. I try to console her as I have done with Thora, but this time I can’t promise that I’ll always be beside her. “We’ll come back, and Inga will make sure you’re safe here. She’ll need you more than ever to help run things.”
Una sniffles, and her blue-grey eyes blaze with a sparkle of tears. “I’ll be alone here, though.”
I nod but then remember. “No, you won’t.” I reach around, pull the honking Borga off my blanket, and say, “I will have to leave her here, and she’ll be good company until I come back.”
Una smiles. “Will you really come back?”
“If Thora comes back, then I’ll come back too.” I look toward where Erna died and say, “And she won’t ever leave this place for long.”
She nods, wipes away her tears, and begins helping me get ready for the journey. We walk back, hands clasped, to the wagon being loaded, and Inga looks on, seemingly pleased that she’ll have the farm to herself now. Rolf claps for Thora to come, and I know that means me too. I turn to Una, who’s wringing her hands. I feel sick to leave her. The air warms between us as she brings her eyes up to mine, her tanned skin glowing, and something comes over me. I reach out and touch the ends of her dark brown hair as she smiles nervously. Leaning in to smell the lock wound around my hand, it brings memories of sleeping next to her. We draw together for a soft kiss, and when we pull away, we have no words.
I pick up my bag and tell her, “Hold Borga back so she can’t follow me into town.”
Una forces herself to move and grabs Borga as I close the door. Thora’s just leaving the house and gives me a smile to see me there with my bags packed. Rolf awkwardly struts out of the bushes with the flapping peacock at the end of his sword-calloused hand. Thora lets out a laugh to me under her breath, since I know she hates that strange thing too. I sit on the back of the wagon, watch the farm get smaller and smaller, and count the farms until we come to the harbor.
At the end of each of the eight jetties bob great warships lined with warriors’ brightly colored shields on their sides. Rolf hands his things to the loading thralls, and I follow behind him as he carries his armor and shield down the jetty. The warship is so much larger than I expected once I near it. Beautiful carvings spread all over the railings, up the mast and length of the oars. Men carry something heavy on, and I can’t help but smile when I see it is Gunhilda, again hanging between four straining men. She gives me a wink as they sit her in the bow of the ship where all valkyries belong, under the giant, carved, fire-breathing dragon leading our ship.
The bells ring out again, causing all to jump, and Toke screams from the town, “Cursed bells!”
He launches his spear straight up to the bell tower, wedging it behind one of the bells so that only
two bells sound after that.
“One down, two to go!” Toke, now pleased, turns and makes his way up the jetty with his servants behind him.
Rolf points to the cargo ship on the other side of the jetty and says, “Liam take Thora below and make sure she’s comfortable.”
As soon as we step on the ship I notice most of the warriors didn’t bring their wives with them but brought one female thrall instead. Thora notices the same thing, and her cheeks flush with color as she walks down to the small ship’s hold with me. The smell of the animals in the hold beside us chokes us. Thora brings out a bag of herbs and crushes some in her hands for us to smell.
Toke’s loud voice bellows above us, “Go down under the hold, Kitten.”
White kidskin boots appear down the ladder, and upon seeing the silk, I know who is joining us. Thora nods to her in forced respect as Dalla instructs her thrall to arrange her cushions and smooth her silk down to sit without wrinkling. Thora gives me a look. We stay below until I can feel the boat’s motion. There is a great rhythmic splashing sound all around us, and when I go up to the top of the ladder, I find it is the thirty-two oars of Rolf’s warship beside us hitting the water at the same instant. Each oar has two warriors in its oar port. I search for Rolf and have a newfound respect for him, seeing him there, gritting his teeth and pulling the oar in perfect time.
I look up to the massive white square sail crackling in the wind and above it a large banner flag with the raven on it, the symbol of Odin. The ocean’s sparkling this early in the morning, and I wonder if we’ll be getting to Ireland before tomorrow’s sunset. I go back under, trying to pull out Thora’s cushions for her from her things, so she can rest well.
“Thank you, Liam.”
Dalla looks taken aback by her politeness to a slave. I get out Ma’s blanket, wrap myself in it, and try to shut my eyes with the lulling of the ship in the ocean waves.
At night, they anchor and in the red-sky morning, we all set sail again, following the seabirds toward the jagged Irish coast. The green mountains close in around us, and we head straight into the lough my da once fished. As we draw near the seaside village, the warriors let out a roar of terror that shakes the ship and reverberates over the waves. A shiver runs through me as I remember what that sounds like on shore. I squint and search the houses to see if I can find the one I was born in and hurt to see the women and children running up the hill toward the church.
The warriors thrust the ships up on shore, and I watch in awe how quickly Rolf jumps off with his masked helmet, shield, sword in hand, and other weapons tied behind his back. The fishermen hurry to bring their boats up and run for safety, but many are caught with raised swords.
Was Da taken this way? Is that why he never came for us?
Thora, Dalla, the other thralls, and I all watch from the safety of the deck behind the brightly colored shields. The chieftain paces the shore beside his best bodyguards as he watches his warriors pillage and burn the houses closest to the water. All eyes turn to the hilltop, where a great bellow booms over the harbor and lifts over the ships to the ocean, emanating from Irish warriors with raised axes and swords to the air—surprising Chieftain Toke.
He calls to his men, smiling, “Warriors! We have a fair fight here!”
Toke raises his sword as his men drop their plunder and run back to their chief. Toke nods to his men to give out mushrooms to his bear-shirted warriors. Then he walks back to our ship and says to the head warrior standing guard over us, “You and your men take the women to the safety of those caves.” He points up shore past jagged rock to a darkness in the face of the cliffs. “We will come to you when we are finished with our game.”
I jump off the ship and catch Thora as she leaps.
Dalla frets. “Won’t you take us and then you will be safe as well?” She looks up toward the horrifying men charging down the cliffs as she spoke.
He laughs as he helps her out of the ship. “Kitten, ‘kings are made for honor, not for long life.”
He slaps her backside with the flat of his sword and walks off as we start running with the four warriors. The Irishmen thunder closer, and the chieftain shouts out, “FREE GUNHILDA!”
Gunhilda leaps off of the bow of the ship with her shield and sword out like wings. She clears the water completely with her god-like jump, then roars and runs up the hillside, frightening away the men rushing toward her. I’m mesmerized, watching her sweep this way and that, throwing men from her path like playful children.
Thora tugs my arm. “We must go!”
“He said women. I can’t go.” I notice all of the other thralls remained on the ship.
“You can’t leave me now!” she screams over the roar of battle.
Dalla and the guards have started climbing the steep rocks, and I hurry to push Thora up each one.
Chapter 10
Once we reach the lip of the cave, I’m eager to turn around and watch the battle. The Vikings have made their way to the top of the hill, but there seems to be many lying dead and wounded on the slope. From our distance it’s hard to tell if they are Vikings or Irishmen. Pride for the Irishmen wells inside me. My people fight back this time, not allowing what happened to me before, refusing to be vanquished yet again.
Strangely though, I also root for my adopted people. I worry for the chieftain, Gunhilda, and even for Rolf. I worry that if the Vikings are defeated, what will happen to me? Will my people take me back? Can I even speak their language anymore to tell them who I am?
A thought hits me, and I’m surprised I hadn’t considered it until this moment, the moment when I’m high up in a jagged cave. I should’ve run! Run from the beach and up to my people. Would they have accepted me? I look down the teeth-like rocks, wondering if I can still get away before the warriors realize, but I think of Thora. She’s sitting cross-legged next to me, holding my hand tight; I hear my promise echo.
There, I sit watching, not sure which side I’m rooting for, when a clamor of many feet echoes from within the cave. The warriors lurch to their feet and step in front of us as Dalla screams.
“There must be a tunnel to this cave! Prepare yourselves, men!” the head warrior shouts as I push Thora and Dalla down behind a monstrous rock.
Metal clangs with such force it rings in my ears. Five dark-haired Irishmen, looking identical to the Vikings in both weaponry and armor, collide with our protectors. Immediately, a soldier takes out our leader with an axe to his back as he fights off another with his sword. The other three stand together in a triangle, protecting their backsides, and after some clanging, strike two of their warriors down mortally. Leaving three against three, the Viking splits off to take on each man as Thora clings to my hand, causing all loss of feeling.
I look down the cliffs and decide we should try to retreat to the ship. I nudge Thora, who understands immediately, and we try as quietly as we can to move down the rocks with Dalla in tow. Two Irishmen, finished with our brave protectors, look over the cliff and point to our escape.
“Faster!” I yell out to Dalla and Thora, but the men move agilely down at twice our speed. When our feet hit the sand, we take off as fast as we can, but the men pounce behind us. I hear Dalla shriek as one warrior grabs her.
She bends down; her hand clenches around a large, black rock as he tugs her back up, ripping her silk gown. She twists in his arms, and I hear the rock hit bone as she smashes it into his head. He drops immediately, and Dalla takes up his heavy sword in both hands as the other warrior runs at her. I grab up two rocks of my own and try to reach her. She catches two perfect blows before he turns and slices across her pretty back. I throw both rocks a moment too late, and one stings him in the head long enough for me to pick up a sword. I’ve never even held a sword before, since it’s forbidden.
The man stands there with his sword, smiling at me, slightly out of reach. Blood trickles down his face from my rock wound. I become entranced with the steel-grey eyes looking back. Before I can act, he strikes out at me. I t
ry to dart away every time he slashes at me. However, Thora runs behind him and throws a heavy rock at his back, causing him to spin his sword around, catching her across her stomach.
I scream and stick the steel-eyed warrior straight in his back. The man recoils, stiffens with the skewer, and falls back on the sword, forcing it to go through him as he lands with a gurgle from his blood-filled mouth. I rush to Thora, covered now in crimson, and turn her to see my face and cry when I see her eyes fixed to the ocean.
I cry for Thora, I cry for Erna, and I cry for my mother. I don’t know how long I cried there, but nothing matters anymore. This battle, this world, this life—all insignificant now.
Let the warriors come.
∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞
Two powerful arms pull me away from her body. I glance up to see Gunhilda, masked in dried blood, hair blown back from the wet, whipping wind. As I get to my feet, Rolf walks toward her, his arm wrapped in a bloodied bandage. He looks down at Thora and clenches his jaw to hold back the tears.
Rolf turns to the men. “Take the women’s bodies up for burial. Dalla will be buried with her Chieftain.”
Rolf swings his axe, lops off the steel-eyed man’s head, and spits on him. He then bends down, rips the necklace from his severed neck, and comes over to me.
“Liam.” He never called me that before. “This is yours.”
He places the pendant in my hand, but I care so little of war trophies now. I nod and follow them up the hillside without even opening my hand.