The Last Viking Queen

by Taylor, Janelle

  Papers were drawn up with her royal seal to place Weylin and his group in charge during her absence. Servants were given orders to be followed during her “travels through the land to prepare our people for battle,” the story to be used to cover for her absence. All questions and problems were to be directed to Lord Weylin or Sir Teague, who was entrusted with the truth.

  The following morning, Weylin sent messengers to King Bardwyn in Cambria and to King Briac in Cumbria, asking them to secretly prepare their men and supplies for the joint battle. Sir Beag and Sir Tragan—who had insisted on carrying this vital news to his king—left knowing the importance of their missions. Tragan hoped he would find Gavin at home so he could enlighten the prince to certain matters.

  The wounded at the castle were visited briefly before Alysa’s party left the castle. For the next two and a half weeks, they visited villages and hamlets and farms and feudal estates to throw off suspicion during her impending lengthy absence. In all places, she spoke vigorously to arouse the people’s support and to give them hope, determination, and confidence. She related how special camps would be set up all across Damnonia and all men must train to defend their land against invasion and enslavement. She asked her subjects to gather as many supplies as possible, to construct new weapons and to repair old ones, and to loan their horses and carts to their grateful leader. The peopie were awed by their valiant ruler, and persuaded to aid her in all ways.

  Upon their return home, Alysa asked to speak with Weylin alone. The man observed how tired and hoarse she was from her many labors and speeches. He had witnessed the princess’s effect on her people. Her words had been stirring and sincere. The noblemen and commoners loved her and trusted her, and would obey her. Almost like her children, they wanted to please her and make her proud of them. They truly believed their warrior princess could lead them to victory.

  Alysa sank into a chair and sighed deeply. “All I can do here has been done, Weylin. I will rest today and tomorrow, then leave under the cover of darkness. Use any means you must to keep my location a secret. See that food is given to the poor in my name. Make certain all problems are solved quickly and fairly to prevent anyone from wanting my judgment. If trouble does occur, write out my command, use this royal seal, then deliver it to those concerned. Say I am busy with war strategy and cannot come in person to settle the matter.” She handed him the supplies he would need for any emergency edicts. “When you go from place to place, issue orders as if I have just given them to you. Train them well, my friend. Keep them busy and high-spirited.” Her voice altered as she added, “If my husband returns, he can visit places in my stead to keep the people’s courage and hopes alive. It would be good for the people to see one of us on occasion. Another thing, Weylin: be sure no talks are held within the hearing of servants. If gossip spreads that I was in the hands of the Vikings… You know the results.”

  Weylin nodded understanding. Gavin had been gone for three weeks without a single word. If his friend was trying to punish or to frighten his wife, or to prove she could not rule alone, whatever his motive, his ploy had failed. Alysa was a strong woman, and a ruler who was unafraid to carry out her duties. Weylin was impressed by her cunning and daring, and he wished he could make this perilous and exciting journey with her. Gavin was missing so much by staying away from this unique creature. You will regret this wicked action, my friend, he decided, and you will surely lose her if you do not return soon with a good explanation.

  Before settling into her chambers to rest, Alysa went to see her friend, Sir Teague’s wife. Thisbe was not to be told of Alysa’s true destination when she left tonight. Alysa trusted her friend, but people were prone to make slips when they were frightened for those they loved. Only Gavin’s friends and Sir Teague would know where she was and what she was doing until time for the attack. And until Weylin’s secret messages to King Bardwyn and King Briac arrived in those kingdoms.

  Following her short visit with an ailing Thisbe, whom Leitis suspected was with child, Alysa returned to her chambers to prepare for her journey tomorrow night. Trosdan had delivered a sack of special items for her to use during their mission. After looking through them, Alysa reclined on her bed for some much needed slumber.

  But sleep would not come. She was overly fatigued and stimulated by her weeks on the trail. To encourage her subjects and vassals, she had been compelled to remain full of energy and self-assurance. It had been a draining few weeks. And she was lonely.

  How she wished she was lying in Gavin’s strong embrace and he was kissing her and sharing his caresses. How she wished they were making passionate love, or even lying quietly together, or talking softly. Not knowing where he was or what he was doing, thinking, feeling, was maddening and frustrating. She had given her people courage and comfort and hope, but Gavin was not here to do the same for her. They should be together.

  “If I truly possessed the powers which Trosdan claims I have, I would cast a spell upon you to make you miserable until you returned to me!” she threatened, though Gavin could not hear her words. “By the gods, I would punish your selfishness and stubbornness!”

  Alysa fetched another sleeping potion to give her peace of mind and rest. “Your cruel ploy has worked, for I am the miserable one!”

  Alysa worked with Trosdan in his guest chambers all morning. She quickly learned many magical tricks and skills which would baffle and deceive most people. Trosdan warned her that their main threat would come from the Viking attiba, who also knew such skills and possessed such talents.

  “But do not worry, my princess, for I know many things he does not. It will come to a battle of wits between us, but I shall win.”

  The Druid wizard revealed how they would carry off the ritual to prove her identity and to obtain the Vikings’ fealty. Her wedding ring was hidden in the secret passageway which nearly encircled the castle, and she was given a special fake one to wear. That ominous chill assailed her again as she removed her wedding ring, after vowing she would not do so until she was sure Gavin was lost to her forever.

  Alysa returned to her chambers at midafternoon. Soon it would be time to leave her land and to challenge her destiny. It would require about a week to reach Stonehenge where the Norsemen were camped. If Gavin did not return within the next few hours … Alysa angrily pushed that hope aside and consumed more of the sleeping potion.

  As arranged, Trosdan awakened Alysa at eleven that night to allow her time to dress for their midnight departure, as traveling in darkness through their land would thwart discovery. She donned voluminous pants, a linen shirt, and leather boots for easy riding. She braided her hair and stuffed it beneath a floppy hat to conceal her identity. Just before midnight, Weylin appeared to help her load her possessions and supplies, and to let them out the back gate.

  The handsome knight whispered, “Be careful, Alysa, we do not want to lose you. Take no risks. Flee quickly if the plan does not work. If you get into trouble and cannot escape, send Trosdan’s messenger bird and I will come to your side with haste.”

  Alysa eased to her tiptoes and kissed her friend lightly on the mouth. “Farewell, dear Weylin. I will see you at Stonehenge very soon. Take care of all I love while you rule it for me.” Her pride forced her not to mention her husband again.

  They embraced and Alysa mounted Calliope. The princess and the Druid wizard passed through the gate, across a narrow bridge over a deep moat, and halted. Alysa twisted in her saddle, waved to Lord Weylin, as she eyed her home a final time, and rode away with the old man.

  Weylin watched them until they vanished in the darkness. “May the gods protect you, my cherished princess,” he murmured, then sealed the gate. It was done; the perilous mission was under way.

  Seven

  Alysa and Trosdan had traveled four nights before camping at dawn in a secluded area on the Logris border. So far they had managed to avoid contact with anyone. Today, their schedule was to change. They planned to sleep a few hours, then ride again until dark. For the
rest of the way to Stonehenge, they would travel in daylight.

  As they set out two hours past midday, they rode with alert minds to prevent falling into the hands of peril. As they journeyed, Alysa mused on her Viking people. Trosdan and Giselde had told her that many raids were nothing more than compulsory exile for young men in order to control the Viking population and to prevent poverty. A proud and strong race, the Norsemen looked unfavorably on weaklings of any kind. Every warrior wanted to die in battle before he became a burden to himself and others. Raids were also viewed as the best way for a young man to prove his manhood and to obtain wealth with which to settle in his homeland. As a young man was no longer welcome at home after he came of age, it was his duty to go out and earn his own living, and the quickest and easiest way was through raiding. Many older warriors used their riches and fame to force out rivals in their areas or to reclaim property taken over by one, or as an excuse to get away from home for a while. Sometimes, famine inspired raids. Other times, they were based on colonization, or political expeditions, or searches for new trade routes.

  Whatever their motives, they were fierce warriors and most lands cowered before them. From out of the mist on the North Sea, they swooped down on helpless villages with their hit-and-run attacks. They burned and plundered with great zest to vanish again in another mist. But these ships of Norsemen had come not only to raid but also to conquer. They were shrewd strategists who often conquered lands by slaying king after king and terrorizing their inhabitants. These bold and tenacious pirates loved to strike at rich monasteries and wealthy castles. They craved anything which breathed or could be moved.

  Most Vikings came from the Scandinavian countries of Denmark, Norway, and Sweden; and not all Norsemen were malevolent. Many were builders of cities and founders of states, writers of poetry and givers of law, adventurous explorers and supreme traders. Alysa liked to imagine that her ancestors fell into one of these groups.

  All Vikings seemed to believe in the supernatural, in a variety of gods and goddesses, in shocking rituals, and in magic itself. Trosdan had enlightened and instructed her on their ways, and she prayed they could carry off their deception, especially when it came time for the human hlaut, a blood sacrifice, during one special ritual which took place every nine years and lasted for nine days.

  She had learned that the Vikings prided themselves on the number of children they sired, even though it led to the overly dense population which was a problem for them. Any man who could afford to have a large family often had a favorite wife, concubines, mistresses, and under-wives. A slave was unimportant unless the man acknowledged her as worthy of the attention and affection of his people and family. But no woman was more important and valuable than their queen by bloodright.

  At that point in her reverie, Alysa wondered what had happened to Lady Gweneth and her two daughters, the family of her slain friend and feudal lord Daron. Even if the Damnonian women were captives in the camp where they were heading, there was no way she could rescue them. She hoped there were no Damnonian slaves in this camp, as she hated to appear traitorous before her people. But there was a ploy she was going to try in order to get all female captives released…

  Alysa’s eyes scanned their surroundings. Logris was a beautiful land, green and fertile, a land any conqueror would crave. She had to admit she was excited about meeting the Vikings and playing out the role fate had assigned to her. It was hard to believe that these barbaric people would bow down to her because of ancient laws and legends and superstitions. The only Vikings she had encountered had been Isobail’s ruthless brigands, and she wanted to see if all Vikings were like those horrid men. She hoped they were not. After all, Viking blood ran within her body, so their history was partly hers.

  Alysa wondered if the Norsemen would be on this isle if King Vortigern of Logris had not hired them as warriors to defend his land against another Roman invasion and against rivals in his kingdom. The largest and strongest footholds had been obtained as payments—not taken by force—by the Jute brothers, Hengist and Horsa. Now that they owned and controlled their own territories, there was no way Vortigern could push them out of his kingdom. Too, the brothers had grown more powerful by sending for more of their people, especially their warriors. Yet if reports could be trusted, Hengist and Horsa were not involved in any of the Viking invasions. The truth remained to be uncovered when she reached Rolf’s new settlement.

  Trosdan broke into her thoughts. “It is time to halt, my queen.”

  Alysa glanced at him, realizing how true that title was, as Trosdan was a Norseman by birth. “We will reach their settlement in three days, Wise One. I am both nervous and excited,” she confessed.

  “That is to be expected, Alysa. A great adventure awaits you.”

  The horses were tended and the three messenger birds were fed. Supplies were unpacked, fur mats were unrolled, and a small fire was built. They cooked a sparse meal and devoured it while they talked. Trosdan told her how they would make their grand entrance to the Viking camp, and Alysa smiled.

  She held up her left hand and eyed the false ring. “Will it truly do magic tricks, Wise One?”

  “Do as I told you, and all will be awed by it and you.”

  “And must I really wear the garments you gave to me?” she asked.

  Trosdan noted her pink cheeks and smiled knowingly. “They will serve us well, my shy queen. They are like the garb of Valkyries. And,” he added with a twinkle in his sky blue eyes, “they will enchant all men in the camp. You are to distract them from raids, remember?”

  Alysa envisioned the skimpy, seductive garments of leather and fur. She laughed merrily. “Without a doubt they will do their job, Wise One. I am thankful this is not winter or I would freeze.”

  Trosdan, usually serious and quiet, chuckled. At seventy, his loins still warmed over a pretty face and shapely body. He thought of Giselde and how much he loved that mixed-blooded woman. Alysa’s grandmother did not know how many times he had been tempted to give up his powers to marry her. It was too late to think of such feelings and dreams; Giselde was wed to King Bardwyn. Perhaps it was for the best. Without his powers, he would be of no use to his queen, granddaughter of his true love. It was a wizard’s fate to be alone, the price of his power and rank.

  “You did not answer, Wise One,” Alysa hinted.

  “My mind roamed for a time. Repeat your question, my queen.”

  “Do you believe we can fool the Viking attiba?”

  “The Runes say yes and the sacred chalice says yes. I have never doubted their messages to me. Another message came to me today while you slept. The Runes burned and tickled at my side,” he remarked as he caressed the pouch hanging from his golden waist cord. “I tossed them upon the earth and they spoke strangely.”

  “What did they say?” Alysa asked eagerly.

  “You will find a friend and helper in the Viking camp, but you must tell him nothing of our ruse. Though he bears the face of your lost love, you must remember at all times he is not Prince Gavin. He will flame your passions and you will wish to help him become champion, but you must not forget who and what he is. His name is Eirik.”

  Alysa stared at the old man and recalled her dream.

  Trosdan watched her closely, then smiled. “You have already met him in the spirit world of dreams. Your powers are growing stronger, my queen. They will become stronger still if you do not resist them. Open yourself to them. Hone them. Obey them. Use them.”

  “What if I forget he is not my love?” she asked worriedly.

  “What you must remember is that he is not your husband. Evil will place many temptations and pitfalls in your path. You must be strong and brave; you must be true to your calling.”

  “I did not expect this task to be so difficult,” she remarked sadly as she called the dream to mind and studied this irresistible warrior named Eirik. She wondered fearfully how much of the dream was a warning and how much was a foresight.

  Four days later, Alysa and Tro
sdan cautiously approached Stonehenge near midday. They left their horses and all their possessions except for those items needed during this first encounter concealed.

  In the distance, the Viking camp was in view. As their spy had reported, it was a large settlement of longhouses, shielings—small houses or huts—and many kviviks—byres and barns combined. She noticed several large corrals which held countless horses, cattle, sheep, and goats, and gazed at the large fires in the open areas where cooking could be done and meetings held. It was obvious from their labors that the Vikings intended to remain here a long time.

  Alysa could not even begin to count the number of Vikings present, for they were everywhere in the camp. No doubt the structures were also filled with more foes. Apprehension flooded her. How could she fool so many men? How could she compel them to accept and obey her? She was only nineteen, a small, slender female. She had only an elderly man to help her. What if—

  “Do not worry, my queen. All will go as we planned and practiced,” Trosdan vowed soothingly.

  Alysa smiled at the Druid wizard. She glanced before them at the towering circle of megalithic posts and lintels, and was awed by their size and Druid history. The site was surrounded by a circular ditch five feet deep. Within it were many pits whose use she did not know. From Trosdan’s previous words, she knew the open end of the ditch ran for miles to the Avon River.

  She recalled what the man had told her about this place. There were four ranges of stones. The outermost circle of one hundred feet was of sarsen stones, large and linteled. The second circle consisted of smaller blue stones. That circle enclosed a horseshoe-shaped arrangement of five linteled pairs of large sarsen stones. Within it was a smaller horseshoe-shaped collection of blue stones which enclosed the Altar Stone which they would use during their ruses. Near the entrance from the ditch was positioned the Slaughter Stone. In certain areas around the main structure were tumuli: burial mounds.