Today, many stones were toppled over from desecration by their Roman invaders. Looking at the site, a sense of well-being and power filled Alysa. She followed Trosdan’s lead across the ditch and through the graywether stones. She was glad no Viking was present. In fact, there seemed to be no guards posted around the camp.
At the Altar Stone, she and Trosdan prepared for the moment they had awaited for weeks. Trosdan was attired in a flowing black robe with symbols of a Viking attiba. He carried a wand of yew in a cresent shape with tiny bells attached. His nearly gray hair was uncovered and hung halfway down his back in soft waves. His snowy beard teased below his heart and was thick and silky. A medallion with Odin’s image was around his neck. He placed his small drum on the altar until he was ready to use it to summon the Norsemen.
Alysa was clad much differently. The leather cups which held her breasts were edged with soft fur and remained in place by straps over her shoulders and around her back. Upon each one was an image of Freyja, goddess of love and protector of the heart. Strips of leather were sewn to the band beneath her breasts and dangled past her waist, doing little to conceal her slender middle and swaying provocatively when she moved. She was wearing a female warrior’s apron over a snug leather garment which just covered her hips and private regions. More strips of leather dangled from it to her knees, and were attached to the lower garment with studs which displayed etched images of Odin, whose startling eyes served to remind everyone he was the Seer of all things. The waist and thigh openings of this lower garment were also edged with soft fur to prevent binding and discomfort.
Gold armbands encircled her wrists, upon which there were carvings of Njord—god of wealth and seafaring. She put on the bronze helmet which depicted Frey, goddess of the mind, ruler of the body. Her long brown hair cascaded from beneath it and flowed down her back to her waist. Atop the helmet was the symbol of royalty. The sword buckled around her slim waist revealed another etching of Odin, protector of warriors, creator of man, ruler of heaven and earth. The medallion around her neck matched the one which Trosdan was wearing. On her shield was the image of Thor—god of power and victory, guardian of justice and law. A mighty thunderbolt was poised in one hand and a powerful hammer in the other.
Alysa’s feet were encased in leather boots which rose to her knees. Upon her finger was the false purple ring Trosdan had given to her. Twisting this way and that, she eyed herself as the strips wiggled sensuously. Her leather and fur garments made her look the perfect image of a Viking queen or a mythical Valkyrie.
“Position yourself, my queen. It is time to begin.”
Alysa stood upon the altar, facing the direction from which the Vikings would approach. She stood straight and tall, proud and lean, her expression one of confidence and courage. Her feet were planted slightly apart, the stance of a warrior about to speak. The large shield was standing on edge to her left, her fingers holding it face forward and motionless. Her sword was drawn, its point touching the stone below her at her right. The midday sun beamed down on her, sending reflections off the metal on her helmet, garb, and weapons.
Even if Trosdan had not begun to beat the small drum to seize the camp’s attention, it would have been captured soon by the strange glitterings from the sacred site. Alysa watched the settlement come to energetic life. She saw warriors grab weapons and hurry their way. She took several deep breaths to steady her nerves and to clear her head. Soon, they would be surrounded by numerous foes.
Most of the Norsemen were clad in brown cloth shirts and pants, not in the leather and fur she had expected. Of course, she decided as they raced through the monoliths, this could be their attire for camplife. She watched her foes halt abruptly at the inner range of blue stones which enclosed the Altar Stone to absorb the strange sight before them: a black-clad wizard and a beautiful female warrior. She noticed how many eyes gaped at her in undisguised lust, while others revealed astonishment and confusion and intrigue.
Two leaders pushed their ways forward through the crowd of rough men. They stepped to a few feet of the altar and stared at her.
Alysa was relieved that her cheeks did not pinken as she posed provocatively, haughtily, before so many wide-eyed strangers. In a clear tone, she announced, “I am Alysa Malvern, heir of Connal, Astrid, Rurik, Giselde, and Catriona. I carry the last of the royal Viking blood from Odin. I have come to take my rightful place as your queen and to lead you to victory over this isle. I command you to kneel and to swear your allegiance to me and Odin.”
The crowd continued to gape at her in surprise and disbelief. But the two leaders eyed her much differently, desire for her and her rank shining in their eyes. Upon his return to camp, Thorkel had told them of the Damnonian princess’s words and deeds, and here she was as promised. The waiting was over. As wild and wonderful thoughts raced through their minds, neither spoke nor moved.
Trosdan called out, “Do you wish Heimdal to sound his war horn for Ragnorak? “ Trosdan knew every Viking feared the end of the world and the god who was to signal it. “Urd, the goddess of destiny, sent me to Queen Alysa’s side to convince her to take her place of honor and duty. She has done so. She is here to reclaim what was stolen from her by foolish ancestors. It is our law; we must obey her.”
“How do we know she is our queen?” one of the leaders asked, although he did not doubt her identity.
Trosdan and Alysa glared at the man who had to be Ulf. His body was large, but with muscle, not fat. He was wearing a helmet with a hole in the top through which his hair was drawn. His beard was as red as his hair, and his cheeks were flushed with excitement.
Trosdan lifted a limp white bird and showed it to the man. “Is it not dead?” he asked coldly.
Ulf casually examined it. “It is dead.”
Trosdan handed the well-trained creature to Alysa, who had lain aside her shield and sheathed her sword. “Show them your powers, my queen.”
Alysa looked skyward as she called out, “Hear me, great Odin, creator and ruler of all things. Send your life-giving power through me to rebirth this dead creature. Show your people I am who I say I am.”
Alysa positioned her hands as Trosdan had taught her. She eyed the fuzzy coverings on the bird’s legs and knew their message to Weylin was hidden beneath them. She prayed she was not sending this message of success prematurely. She eyed the sun and lifted her left hand, catching its brilliance and creating a beam of light with the clever cut of the stone. The purple ray touched the white bird. It wiggled, then sat up in her hand before flying away. Alysa smiled as she watched its flight a moment; the ruse was in motion, the missive on its way.
The crowd was stunned into silence, then a raucous cheer arose. Alysa’s gaze went from Ulf’s stunned expression to the playful grin on the face of the very tall and muscular man at his side. His hair was white-blond and grazed his massive shoulders. His features were strong and handsome. His hazel eyes engulfed her. At last, the image of Rolf had a face. She recalled her past attackers’ words: “Rolf wants her.” Judging by his mood and gaze, those words were true.
The blond man informed her, “Thorkel told us you would come to us when it was safe. We were going to seek you when our camp was complete. But you have kept your word. Now the curse upon us can be dispelled. This is a joyous day.”
Another man worked his way through the chattering crowd, a man in a dark flowing robe with golden symbols. With black eyes, he studied Alysa and Trosdan. “There is another female of royal birth in this land, Giselde. How do we not know she is to be our queen?”
The towering man grinned. “But Einar, Giselde is an old woman, too old to bear heirs and to rule our people.”
Einar, their attiba, was merely a talented trickster who knew a little alchemy. He wanted to test the powers and skills of this competition to see if Trosdan was truly a wizard. If so, the old man could be dangerous. “I say this female does simple magic. I say she must prove her claim as our queen on the sacred altar. Legend says our queen cannot be harmed by
a sacred flame.”
Trosdan spoke up. “There is a full moon tonight; that is the time for such a test. After she has proven herself, she will give you the message from Odin for conquest.”
Einar was shocked and dismayed by the wizard’s quick and easy acceptance of his challenge. He knew of no way a person could survive such a test. He looked at Alysa and warned, “If you are not who you claim to be, the test will slay you. Do you understand and agree?”
Alysa’s blue eyes focused on the deadly villain below her. “Be glad I will not seek you as a blood hlaut to be sacrificed after my victory, Einar. I do not like to be questioned or doubted. But I am a volva, so I know we have need of you later. Only for that reason will I spare your life after your insulting behavior.”
“Prove you are a female Seer,” Einar boldly challenged.
“I will do so tonight, after the ceremony,” she replied smugly.
Trosdan warned, “Beware of such dark feelings, Einar. Do not let Loki steal your wits and fealty. Loki loves evil and he has a sharp eye for a foe’s weaknesses. Loki is clever and deceitful. He is cruel and vicious and filled with self-interest. He attacks all gods, even though he is Odin’s half brother. Odin is with us, so Loki must try to attack us. An attiba wields great power and must not be disobeyed. Do not allow Loki to use you against us and Odin.”
To Rolf, Alysa said, “I am weary after my long journey. I must rest before the ritual tonight. Can you find me lodgings here?”
Rolf lifted his hand and helped Alysa from the altar. “You will stay in my dwelling. I will have food and—”
“Nay!” Ulf shouted and seized Alysa’s other hand, as Rolf had not released his gentle grip on her. “She will lodge with me until this matter is settled.”
Alysa suggested, “We will have a game to see where I will stay until tonight, then I must have my own dwelling.” She presented them with her back to prepare for it. She turned to the two men. “The man who finds the stone is the loser,” she announced, holding out her balled hands to Ulf.
Ulf looked at both hands, then touched the right one. Alysa opened it to reveal a stone. “I go with Rolf this time. Come, Wise One.”
Ulf could not behave the irate fool before the others, so he nodded and stepped aside for them to pass. Trosdan collected his possessions and trailed the couple. At the doorway into Rolf’s longhouse, Alysa opened her left hand and gave him the second stone. “I do not like warriors who behave as small children with ill tempers. Keep it for good luck during your upcoming challenge.”
Rolf closed his hand over the warm stone and smiled. “You are very brave and clever, Alysa. Ulf is not a man easily or wisely duped.”
“It takes little to fool any man when his wits are not where they should be,” she replied mirthfully. “Do not misunderstand, Rolf. I tricked Ulf to punish him, not to charm or impress you,” she added to wipe the cocky grin from his sensual lips.
They entered Rolf’s longhouse. The skali—living area— was first. The eldhus—kitchen—was next, followed by the scullery and privy. Sections of the living area could be curtained off for privacy when a man needed or desired it. The dwelling was clean and well lighted. It was sparsely-fur-nished with wooden items covered by soft furs. She took a seat.
A pretty female slave brought food and drink within minutes: cheese, fruit, and bread, with wine for Alysa and ale for the two men. Knowing she had interrupted the eating hour, she assumed Rolf would join them for the meal, which he did.
As they ate, Alysa related what she knew of her history, the story colored to impress and beguile the attentive Rolf. This was her chance to study one of the leaders before things changed with the quest. She was genial and ever so slightly seductive. “When Trosdan came to me and counciled me, I knew I must come here and join my people. Odin had prepared me for his words and my destiny through many dreams. The calling was strong, too strong to be resisted or ignored. After our conquest of this isle, I will rule from Damnonia. There, I can serve both my peoples wisely and fairly.”
Rolf’s eyes slipped over her. “Can you lead us to victory,” Alysa? You are a very young and gentle woman.”
She locked her blue gaze to his hazel one. “When my evil stepmother Isobail tried to take what was mine, I defeated her and destroyed her. I chased her brigands from my land, those I did not slay in battle. I can use all weapons; Rolf, use them with skill and victory. I do not boast or lie. I planned many of the battles with our past foes, so I know how to use cunning and daring.”
Rolf chuckled. “Such words must be true, for Thorkel bears the wounds of your battle with him.”
Alysa sneered contemptuously. “If he had not fled as a coward that day, I would have slain him as I did my other attackers. If he had listened to my words, his friends would have survived and escaped. He sought glory so hard that he lost his wits. I could not reveal myself to the Damnonians by siding with them when they were outnumbered. Thorkel should be punished for his stupidity and recklessness.”
“Were three wounds not enough punishment?” Rolf teased. “If he had not survived and brought us news of you, your land would have been conquered by now, which would have endangered you. We restrained ourselves, as we planned your capture if you did not keep your word.”
“So it was Odin’s hand which stayed mine so Thorkel could prepare the way for my return. Then I will forgive him for his weakness.”
“We were told you had wed a Cumbrian prince. Where is he?”
Alysa had anticipated this question and was ready to respond cleverly. “He is a weakling and a fool, so I dismissed him from my sight and land. I can have no mate at my side who doubts me and resists me. He is jealous and selfish. He tried to halt me from this journey to prevent my destiny. I could not allow it.”
“How could you so calmly dismiss a man you loved and wed?”
Alysa exhaled and rolled her eyes scornfully. “I wed him because my grandfather, King Bardwyn of Cambria, arranged the marriage. It was a reward for his help with Is obail’s defeat, though I did not truly need his assistance. He was too cautious and ignorant. The victory could have been won earlier if he had not hesitated or made wrong moves so frequently. I was not myself at that time, or I would not have allowed Grandfather’s wishes. I had fought a long and difficult battle, and my father had been murdered. Once I was rested and my grief passed, I realized my mistake. I am the queen of a powerful race. Never again will a mortal man rule me or deny me my dreams.”
“Where is this unfortunate husband now?” Rolf persisted.
“Like an injured dog, he raced home to his father with his tail between his legs. I care not for what King Briac thinks or says, I will not take the bumbling olf back! I do not need his son as my husband to become the future queen of Cumbria. I shall rule all of Britain.”
“Why are you so angry, Alysa, if it does not matter to you?”
Alysa looked Rolf in the eye. “Would you not be angry if you had allowed others to use you and sway you in a moment of weakness? Would you not be angry with yourself for even having one? Would you not be angry if your wife tried to halt your destiny?”
“I have no wife,” Rolf replied, his expression enticing.
“Surely you jest,” she responded seductively. “A man such as you should have been wed by now. What age are you?”
“I am twenty-nine.”
“Why have you not taken a wife—many wives? Is that not the Viking way, except for royalty?”
“I have not found a woman to please me. I want no female who whines and crawls. I want a woman whose strength and dreams match mine. Too, I have been araiding for years.”
Alysa glanced toward the eldhus area and teased softly. “What of your lovely slave? Does she not please you and serve you well?”
“If she did not, she would not be in my dwelling. But she, like others, is not of my liking and bloodline, as you are,” he added.
“I am honored by your words and feelings, Rolf, but it is not my place to respond to them. Odin wi
ll select my true mate.”
“I do not understand.” The handsome warrior frowned.
“After the ceremony tonight, you will,” she promised.
“What if you do not survive the test of the sacred flame?”
Alysa teased her fingertips over the back of his hand and murmured, “Odin did not bring me here to be slain or rejected. I must rest,” she hinted. “Do you mind my using your bed?”
Rolf’s eyes glowed with desire as he imagined her in his bed. “I will leave you to refresh yourself, Alysa. And I will pray you are our queen,” he added.
He called the slave and they left Alysa and Trosdan alone. Alysa sank back in her seat. “Did I do well, Wise One? You never spoke once.”
Trosdan smiled at her. “Perfect, my queen. Go to sleep. You will need your strength and wits tonight.”
“What of this Eirik?” Alysa inquired, eager to meet him.
“I did not see him. Perhaps he is gone araiding.”
To envision the image of her love slaying and plundering
distressed Alysa. She asked, “Can you help mesleep, Wise
One?” Trosdan fetched his bag of potions and aided her.
Leaving the slave outside, Rolf entered Einar’s abode. “Tell me what you think of this woman and her claim, wizard.”
“She is the queen we have awaited and searched for, Lord Rolf. The only way to end the curse on our people which Connal and Astrid began is by conquering her. The warrior who lays claim to her will become all-powerful here and in our homeland. If she is willing, good. If she is not, she must be forced to obey her destiny. Astrid and Rurik sided with our foes, why should their heir not side with us? She carries the last royal blood and must be compelled to honor her rank.”
“If you believe her, why did you battle her?” Rolf queried.
The Last Viking Queen Page 11