Goldhill's Treasure

by Jilly Bowling

  She had practised striking at targets from horseback and dismounting quickly, which wasn’t easy with all the weapons she had about her person, and to start with she’d fallen over as she hit the ground. However, now she could manage it, thanks to Astrid’s strict training.

  The four shieldmaidens joined the warriors, just as the sky was beginning to lighten and awaited their orders. Eirik strode out of Ubbe’s hall, looking every inch the strong, hard barbarian warrior he was, and swung up onto his horse. Turning it to face his men he scanned the group for Sophie and on seeing her his head went up and he looked at her with a mixture of pride and concern. He quickly organised the patrol as he wanted it, making sure that she was in the middle. Astrid joined him at the head of the column and to Sophie’s delight, directed by his master, Geri took his place at her side. He was so tall she could simply put her hand out to ruffle his ears. Her horse laid his head back and took a swipe at him with his big teeth and he bounded out of the way, joyful that he was going out on patrol again. Laughing at him she slapped her horse’s neck and told him to behave and suddenly her fear was gone.

  Dawn broke on a cold, clear, crisp day as they left Weorgoranceastre and headed for the border lands. The landscape was so different to that of the twenty first century that Sophie could not make out where they were going, so she asked Liv, the shieldmaiden riding alongside her, which direction they were taking.

  “We head towards Vin-heath, then on towards Hereford, where it is easy to forge the river. However we are pretty certain that the Myrce have fled back over the border, so as long as they are not in striking distance of Weorgoranceastre we shan’t go any further.”

  Broadheath, Sophie thought, five minutes, by car, from Goldhill! Then she shook her head, she was with Eirik, he was her life, and Goldhill would no longer be her’s; she’d been gone for months and would have been declared missing. Calum would have seized Goldhill and sold it, along with all her belongings. Sophie Dickton no longer existed, she was Sophie, a pagan, shieldmaiden and Merkismathr Eirik’s woman.

  With the River Teme on their left they picked their way through the trees, the undulating ground looking unfamiliar to Sophie, so different from the Worcester to Bromyard road she had driven along so often.

  Spirits were high, the Myrce had fled and soon they would be going on a great march. Eirik kept glancing back to make sure she was alright and a few times she caught his eye and smiled at him, thinking of cuddling up in the furs when they got home. The trees had thickened and they were forced to pick their way through them; suddenly there was the whistle of arrows and screams as they found their targets. Live who had been in front of Sophie fell, with an arrow through her throat and all around warriors were cursing and flinging themselves off their horses. Sophie followed, and, landing on her feet took cover behind a tree. She could hear Eirik shouting orders, in Norse, and sighed with relief that he was unharmed. Geri was by her side staring into the gloom of the forest, growling at the smell of the enemy.

  Taking cover behind tree after tree she made her way to where the warriors were gathering around Eirik, so relieved to see his large body standing there. At his order a few of the warriors slid away to circle the enemy, while the others formed a shield wall to deny the arrows any more targets. As she went to take her place he indicated that she should stand next to him and she obeyed.

  Below their shields he asked “Are you alright?”

  “Yes, but Liv fell, shouldn’t we see if any of the fallen are alive?”

  “Not until the enemy are defeated, we would only make ourselves targets for their arrows.”

  It seemed to Sophie as if they had stood like that forever, but it was only minutes before they heard the men Eirik had sent to circle the Myrce, attack. Then he ordered shields down and they charged into the trees.

  For the rest of her life, no matter how hard she tried to remember, she couldn’t recall the next half hour. The noise, the smell and the sheer mind boggling terror, fused into one brain numbing blur. Blows hit her shield and she dodged and ducked, slashing and stabbing as she had been taught, expecting to feel a death blow at any second. She felt as if she had an invisible wall around her, that the enemy couldn’t penetrate. Geri was everywhere, protecting her, biting and knocking men off balance before they could stab her. She was still in a daze when a cold hand clutched her heart and she knew, with absolute certainty that Eirik was down.

  Screaming a mindless battle cry she fought her way free until she could see him, dazed and on his knees with a Myrce warrior standing over him, about to take his head.

  “Geri” she screamed, “ attack, save Eirik.”

  The dog flew through the air landing with full force against the Myrce, knocking him to the ground. A flash of metal and the dog screamed but lunged for the man’s throat as she raced forward and brought her sword down, splitting the man’s head open. Ignoring the blood and brains that sprayed up at her, she flung herself at Eirik, who had slowly subsided onto his side.

  “Eirik, Eirik, my love, my life, I’m here. You’ll be alright, where are you injured? Let me see, let me help you.”

  Eirik took a blood soaked hand from his side, “Sophie, I’m undone, save yourself. Skuld has wielded her shears, give me my sword as I see the gates of Valhalla opening.”

  The noise of the battle seemed to fade around her as she lay over him, that invisible wall protecting her from harm.

  “No,no,” she cried desperately tearing at her tunic for a pad to press on his wound, “I won’t let you go, please Eirik, live, I need you. How will I live without you? Please God, don’t let him die.”

  He raised his hand and cupped her cheek “Sophie, it is my time. The Norns have decreed it. I love you my little pagan and always will. We’ll be together again, remember this, even the gates of Valhalla will not keep me from you.”

  Geri had crawled on his belly to his master and laying his head against Eirik’s he sighed and was no more.

  “Ah Geri, my faithful hound, we will be in Valhalla together,” Eirik said as Sophie lay on his chest, the battle that had waged around them fading away as the Danes chased the Myrce into the trees.

  Eirik drew in a deep breath as blood filled his mouth “Sophie, listen to me. Take a horse and run. You don’t belong here, go home. If you can, retrieve my treasure and go. Live a good life and one day we’ll be together again.”

  “No, no, I don’t want to live without you. I can’t, I need you!” Sophie sobbed ready to end her own life.

  “That is not my brave, strong courageous woman talking,” he growled. “It is the Norns who decide our lives and when they will end, and yours is not yet. Leave me Sophie, go before my warriors return and you can’t.” His breathing was becoming ragged as he tried to persuade her to leave him.

  “Promise me that we’ll be together, my love.”

  “I promise,” then he put his hand on her neck and pulled her to him as his death rattle came and he was gone, to join his faithful hound in Valhalla.

  Chapter 22

  She lay, dry eyed, across Eirik’s body, for what seemed like minutes, but must have been hours, for when the sound of voices and cracking branches penetrated her numb mind, the daylight was waning. The warriors were returning to collect their dead and injured and if they found her she would have to return to Weorgoranceastre with them and live her life in this alien world, that only her love for Eirik had made bearable.

  She didn’t even know whether she could return to the twenty first century, but even if she couldn’t, surely, if she had Eirik’s treasure she would be able to make a life for herself amongst the Saxons. To her numbed brain anything would be better than becoming a slave again, prey to the likes of Ubbe and Ivar.

  That decided, she kissed Eirik’s forehead and whispered “Until we meet again my love,” and taking his short sword, rings and armbands, but leaving his mighty sword so he wo
uld have it in Valhalla, she slid away into the undergrowth. Desperately she slithered on her belly, trying to make no noise and get as far away as possible before the warriors reached the small clearing. Under the trees, undergrowth grew thickly apart from on the game trails and she found a gap, between two rotting fallen trees, covered in vegetation, and forced her way into it, ignoring the scuttling of beetles and other small creatures.

  The Danes had found Eirik’s body and their voices rose in grief and anger, as she buried her face in the ground and fought back the tears at the thought of that magnificent man reduced to so much meat and bones. She heard Astrid’s voice raised in anger against the warriors, as she wept by Eirik’s side, arguing that his faithful hound should be taken with them to be burned with his master.

  As darkness descended, after calling Sophie’s name and searching for her, the Danes took their dead back to Weorgorancaestre and silence descended on the forest along with an icy cold. Too physically and emotionally exhausted to move and not caring if she lived or died, Sophie clutched Eirik’s armbands to her, trying to inhale the scent of him, and drifted into a deep sleep.

  ***

  When she woke it was daylight, she was stiff and sore, in both heart and body, but she was alive. She lay and listened intently for any sound before sliding backwards out of her nest. A weak sun filtered through the trees and she sat on a log in a patch of it, trying to warm herself. Numb with grief, all she could think about was Eirik and how he had told her to go home. If only she could!

  Then her head came up and she became resolved to do her very best to do what he had wanted. Although he didn’t know how far away from her previous life she was, he had known it wasn’t here. Her traumatised brain was incapable of thinking more than one step at a time, so that is what she did. Finding a small stream she drank deeply and splashed her face with the icy water, then she started to follow the game trail, keeping the glimpses of the river on her right, back towards Weorgoranceastre.

  Eirik had been wise, he knew that the only way in his world to be free was to be rich, so the first thing she must do was retrieve his treasure. She’d travelled a couple of miles, when she heard thrashing, and the sounds of a horse in distress, on the river side of the trail. Easing through the trees and undergrowth she found a horse, his bridle caught on branches and his saddle under his belly, frantically trying to get free. Recognising him as the horse Liv had been riding she surmised that he must have bolted when Live fell and had got himself into a mess. Speaking soothingly she approached cautiously, he was cow kicking at the saddle under his belly and she didn’t want to get kicked

  Going to his shoulder she ran her hand over his sweaty neck and he quietened a little, so whispering “That’s a good boy, I’m going to help you,” she carefully reached for the loose girth and freed it, As the saddle fell loose the horse bucked and ran back against the bridle, but it was well made and cared for and it held.

  Now that the saddle wasn’t frightening him the horse calmed and Sophie continued to sooth him as she freed the reins from the branches. By the time he was free he’d calmed down considerably and stood there trembling. Leading him to the trail she examined him for any injuries, but apart from cuts to his mouth from the bit, he was sound.

  “OK, fella, I won’t put that saddle on you. You did a good job of smashing it, so I hope you don’t mind being ridden bareback.”

  Gathering the reins over his head she grasped a handful of mane and sprang onto his back. He tightened a little but didn’t buck and as his back relaxed she let out a sigh of relief. Now she had a horse.

  On finding another stream flowing down to the river they both drank and she sat on a tree stump and let him graze for a while, trying to formulate a plan. It would only be safe to enter the part of the wood where Eirik’s treasure was, under cover of darkness and she’d have to go on foot, as the sentries might hear the horse; so she needed to find somewhere to hide him, as she’d need him to carry the treasure back to her hill, Goldhill. Then what to do with it? Could she take it back through time? Was it possible for her to go back through time? She had no idea, but she would try.

  ***

  Three days later she stood in the trees, looking down at a familiar bend in the River Teme. She was pretty certain that Goldhill lay beneath her, as she’d found the burned patch, made by the funeral pyre of Eirik’s pagan slave. The horse stood by her side, with the sacks containing Eirik’s treasure slung over his back.

  Her plans had worked perfectly, she’d left the horse hobbled in a natural glade with sweet grass, on the far side of the wood that stood by Weorgoranceastre. There was only one way out of it, and she’d cut branches with Eirik’s short sword to make into a hurdle of sorts, to fill the gap. Then under cover of darkness she had made her way through the trees to the stream that bordered the Danes stock field; from there she managed to remember the way to Caena’s den and found it without too much difficulty.

  In the den she found a flagon of ale, some barley bread and cheese, dried meat and a bag of dried nuts, plums and apple, hung from an overhead branch to keep it out of the way of the forest creatures, along with the ragged fur she had given to Alta. All she could think was that when the Danes had returned to Weorgoranceastre without her, Alta had thought that if she lived she would return for Eirik’s treasure. When she dug it up she found a pot of her lavender salve and that some of the treasure was missing. Alta had left her a message, taken a few things, left the rest for her, and escaped. She must have heard Sophie and Eirik talking about where the treasure was and decided to make her old age more comfortable, with her own people. Sophie said a prayer that she would find just that and blessed her at having the forethought to leave some food.

  She ate some of the bread and cheese and a few nuts, and drank some ale, then bundling the fur up and tying it across her shoulders, she picked up the sacks and made her way through the wood towards where she had left the horse, praying that he would still be there. He was, and she lay the fur across his back and tied the sacks on top of it. He wasn’t too pleased with the ropes under his barrel, but calmed by her voice and a piece of bread he allowed her to lead him out of the clearing.

  She had walked from Worcester to Goldhill, hiding off the trail during the day, but had seen no one. Now she was standing at her destination and she didn’t know what to do next. Sitting in the grass with the horse grazing beside her she contemplated the treasure. When she had fallen through time, she had taken nothing with her, not even the pyjamas and coat she’d been wearing, so it was logical to think she could take nothing back. So she would need to bury the treasure where, hopefully, over the centuries no one would find it. The tunnel was out as that didn’t lead anywhere in the twenty first century, and it had been excavated at some time in the seventeenth century, so any treasure would have been discovered.

  Mr, Gold had bought the hill in seventeen thirteen and it would be private property from then on, so she needed something that hadn’t been moved or dug up before or since then. The garage which was now her studio, had originally been a cobbler’s shop, and she thought that the floor was definitely centuries old. Giant stone flagstones had just been laid on top of the original beaten earth and she was sure they’d never been moved. All she had to do was figure out where it had been and that’s where she’d hide the treasure.

  Picking her way down the hill she discovered a stream running down the hill between the trees and becoming excited she realised that this was the stream that ran by the back of the studio into a culvert, which found it’s way via a pipe, under the road and into the river Teme.

  What would eventually become the main Worcester to Bromyard road was little more than a track meandering along the curves of the river. In eight hundred and seventy the stream cut straight across the trail and on into the river. It looked so different that Sophie began to have doubts about the location, but then by the side of the track she spotted a Roman mileston
e, standing tall, it’s lettering intact. Her heart leaped as she remembered the old obelisk standing in the back corner of the garage, worn and only a couple of feet tall. No one had ever moved it even when the cobblers shop had been built and she had left it alone, a part of history, when she had fitted the studio out. If she buried her treasure well behind this milestone it should end up behind the studio deep in the slope of the hill.

  She went back up the hill and camped by the stream, hidden from the track down below. She would wait until dark before she attempted to bury the treasure and prayed for a bright moonlit night.

  ***

  Three nights later she stamped the red clay hard onto the top of the hole she’d managed to dig out and pulled the soft loam, made up from rotted leaves and wood over the top of it. Then she gathered armfulls of dry leaves from the wood and threw them on top, finally she stood back and looked at the ground critically, trying to spot where it had been disturbed.

  She was exhausted after two nights of digging into the rock hard clay, with only a sword and axe to help, her but she had succeeded. Eirik’s treasure was buried deep and it was up to the Norns whether another would find it before Sophie.

  Leading the horse up the hill, she thanked him, and turned him loose, knowing that she was burning her bridges. If she couldn’t find her way back through time, she would have to dig up the treasure and would need the horse. But she couldn’t bear the thought of leaving him to get hurt again if she left his bridle on.

  Searching around she found the grassy knoll that she had climbed out of, to be caught by Stenar, and searched until she found an opening. It was pitch black as she crawled into the, water made, cavern and as she carefully stood up, hands outstretched she could see nothing. Shuffling forward slowly she made her way deeper and deeper into the darkness. Her hands passed through what felt like thick cobwebs and then, once again she was falling, faster and faster until she lost consciousness.