The Last Viking Queen

by Taylor, Janelle

  “Soon you will get plenty of exercise, Calliope.” She spoke gently to her dun. “We will gallop far and wide on their foolish quest. I wish we could ride for hours today, but they would wonder where we are. We must do nothing to arouse their suspicions, especially today. May the gods aid his safe escape and convince these peasants to help me end this tyranny.”

  She dismounted to walk a while. The dun trailed her with obedience and affection. When she stopped, she hugged his neck and her thoughts shifted to Eirik. “Did you see him, Calliope? Is he my lost love? You did not recognize his scent and touch. Should that warn me of peril? Have I placed a curse on our love by removing my wedding ring? I said I would not do so until Gavin was lost to me forever. Can such a grim fate be mine? Trosdan said I had powers, but what are they? How can I bring them forth and use them? Why can I do nothing more than see things in dreams, things I do not understand and cannot control? If I am so special and powerful, why can I not free my love of this evil spell? I have done no real magic, Calliope, only tricks which Trosdan taught me.”

  Alysa hugged her horse again as she murmured, “I am such a weak and foolish creature, for he stirs my blood as much as Gavin did. What am I to do if Eirik is not my lost love? What if this Viking warrior is my true destiny as Rurik was Giselde’s? What if Gavin was driven from my side so I would be driven to Eirik’s? What of Gavin then?”

  Alysa’s gaze traveled past her beloved animal to settle on Eirik, who was poised in the distance upon an unknown horse. She made it apparent that she saw him, but he did not join her. Sighing heavily, she mounted and rode back to the settlement.

  The first funeral pyre had completed its task and cooled enough for the ashes to be buried. Alysa gazed at the enormous black spot upon the ground. She wondered if those violent men thought nothing of killing and dying. How could they be duped so easily by clever lies and golden promises? By silly superstitions and curses and legends?

  Before she left the corral, Eirik rode up and put away his horse. She glanced at him as he worked, then turned to leave without speaking. After all, he was the one being cold and distant.

  “You should not ride alone, my queen,” he softly scolded her.

  “You were guarding me. Or were you spying on me?” she asked.

  Eirik caught her frosty tone and understood it. “I was protecting you, nothing more. I thought it rash to join you. Why look so sad?”

  By that time, several men were within hearing distance. As if speaking casually, she remarked, “The deaths of so many of my warriors depresses me. The funeral pyre was too large and burned much too long for a friendly contest. You have spared your opponents; for that, I am glad. I do not understand how men die so easily and freely.”

  “Dying is not hard, my queen, if done with honor and a sword in your hand. From the time a man is born, he is trained to be a warrior, to die without fear or regret. He is taught to forget wounds during battles, to forget the weather and events around him. He must think of nothing except victory. If he must die, then he is happy to join. Odin in Valhalla. To survive, he must train with all weapons and try to be the best with each one, including his bare hands. I have prepared myself for battle, and for death if necessary. That is our way.”

  “It is the Viking way, and I am Viking now. Soon I will learn all things about my people. To understand, I must ask questions.”

  “Ask what you will, my queen, of any man here.”

  “I have no more questions today. I must go prepare for tonight. You were kind to guard me and to enlighten me. Farewell, Eirik.”

  Before Alysa reached her dwelling, she witnessed the discovery of the blacksmith’s daring “escape.” Orders were given to search for the slave so he could be recaptured and punished. She was asked to check her abode to make certain the foolish thrall was not hiding there, and she pretended to do so.

  When Enid brought her meal, she gave most of the food to the concealed man. She did not ask his name; that way, she could not let it slip from her tongue and incriminate herself. “Soon the contest will continue and the search for you will be called off. They are convinced you are not in the settlement and are searching the surrounding areas. During the battles tonight, sneak to the stone temple on your belly. Wait there until all are asleep, then flee swiftly. May our gods protect you, my friend. Wear this to hide your light hair and shirt,” she advised and handed him a dark-green cape.

  The smithy smiled and thanked her. “If my body is not returned by midday on the morrow, you will know I have succeeded.”

  All of round four was fought that night, leaving eight men to pair off for round five in the morning. If the matches continued at this speed, rounds five, six, and seven would be carried out tomorrow, and one winner per ring would remain to compete the following day to leave three champions. That meant the contest would be over in two more days. Then the quest and attack loomed before her.

  In the fourth match that evening, Rolf, Ulf, and Eirik all remained victors in their rings. Before parting for the night, lots were drawn for match five tomorrow.

  As the combat period was short this evening, Trosdan left camp with several men who had been eliminated in battle. He went to gather healing herbs in the closest forest and glen, as certain ones had to be harvested at night for potency. To keep the Norsemen fooled, he still spent much of the time with his healing arts and. tending the wounded.

  Another funeral pyre was set ablaze, and the stench nearly sickened Alysa. Many gathered around it, and she stayed a while as if praying for the souls of her slain subjects. When she thought it all right, she slipped away from the smoky circle. She locked herself inside Eirik’s dwelling on the pretext of bathing and resting. The slave was gone. She prayed for his survival and success, and decided not to worry Trosdan by revealing her deed.

  Shortly, she heard a soft tapping on the eldhus window from which she had watched Stonehenge and Eirik the other night. Surely none of her men would risk coming here! What if it was the escaped slave? She crept to it and asked nervously who was there.

  When the manly voice said, “Eirik,” her heart skipped a beat, then began to race madly. She wondered what she should do. This was insane. Exciting! Dangerous!

  “I have something to give you,” he said, keeping his voice low.

  Alysa opened the shutters and asked, “What is it?”

  The opening was not large enough for a person to slip through, but he could touch her. He captured her right hand and carried it to his lips. After kissing each fingertip and her palm, he pressed it against his bearded cheek. He felt her trembling, and himself.

  Alysa watched his actions with a baffled gaze. His whiskers were soft against her hand, and she longed to caress every feature on his handsome face. His hair was mussed and fell across her hand, tickling it. Every part of him that touched her enticed her, enflamed her. Her voice was shaky as she inquired, “Why did you come here? It is mad to tempt fate. Go before you are seen.”

  His hand released hers so he could reach inside the small opening to caress her cheek, causing hers to slip to his bare chest. It remained there, as if she also needed their flesh to be together. Her contact was gentle, intimate. His was stimulating and possessive. “I had to touch you and see you closely, if only for a moment. I dream of nothing but the day when you are mine. If I lose this quest, I will not let another have you. I will steal you and carry you far away,” he revealed to test her reaction to such a daring deed.

  Alysa protested weakly, “You cannot. You must not. Fate is not battled like a foe. To challenge it is perilous. We must yield to it.”

  “I can yield to no power except the one you have over me. It is the force which drives me, the only force I cannot conquer.”

  “I have no power over you, Eirik. Fate controls me and my life.”

  “Nay, you have enchanted me,” he accused in a husky voice: “Upon my honor, I have not used magic to ensnare you.”

  “You are magic, my beloved enchantress. I cannot resist you.”

/>   “Do not say or think such things. If it is not to be—”

  He silenced her with a finger to her lips. “It must be, Alysa. We both know that. Yet we resist it as if it is wicked. How can love be evil? It is not something we can birth or slay at will. Surely you feel this bond between us, as if it has always existed and can never be broken. Something within me cries out that we are destined for each other. I have not known such feelings before; they have baffled and intimidated me. I have tried to control them, but they are too powerful, invincible. I do not want to imperil you or frighten you, but I cannot keep my distance any longer. I must win you or—” He sighed in frustration. “Or surely I will be incomplete without you.”

  His impassioned words and mood touched her deeply. But her dream at the castle… She murmured, “If you are here to entice my help with the quest, I cannot betray myself and my destiny. I cannot give you the riddles’ answers.”

  “Is that what you saw in your dreams? That I would trick them from you with words of love?” Her look told him he had guessed right. “That is why you do not trust me and why you pull away each time we are drawn together. I swear, I will not ask you for your aid.”

  “There are other ways to ask for help than with words.”

  “You fear I will weaken you and steal them between kisses?”

  “If I allowed myself to fall under your spell, I could not help but aid you. If you win, it must be done fairly.”

  Voices were heard, and the both of them knew Trosdan and his helpers were returning. Quickly, he kissed her and vanished into the shadows. Alysa closed the shutters and hurried to her bed. Without removing her kirtle, as she had already taken off her bliaud, she slipped under the cover.

  When Trosdan entered, she sat up and smiled. “I am glad to see you home safely, Wise One. It is late.”

  Trosdan was distracted so he failed to notice the guilty look on her face. By the time he had put aside his cloth bags of herbs and turned to her, she had composed herself.

  “I found many plants we can use, plants they do not know or understand. I will gather others when we ride northward, herbs to dull their minds during the feast. They will be unable to defend themselves when our forces attack. All foes will be slain and the threat to you and your land will be over.”

  That news did not overjoy her. It sounded as if they were planning a merciless slaughter of helpless victims. She had been here long enough to get to know many of these men, and she hated to think of murdering them while they could not defend themselves. Nothing was worse for a Viking than to die without a sword in his grasp. Yet these foes had to be slain or else they would continue their bloody and lethal raids. She had known of this requirement, yet she had not really thought about it. Too, the Norsemen had been strangers and foes when this ruse was planned; now, many were not…

  Her mind raced in many directions at once. Trepidation filled her. What would happen to Rolf? To Enid? To Saeric and Aidan? To-her people during the attack? To Eirik, if he was not Gavin …

  Trosdan read her concerns and cautioned, “Do not weaken now, my beloved princess. They are our foes and must be destroyed. If we do not complete this ruse, they will destroy us and other lands.”

  Alysa sighed heavily. “I know, Wise One, but it makes slaying them no easier. Are you certain you can slip the weakening herbs into their ale casks without endangering yourself? I do not want you harmed.”

  Trosdan smiled and entreated, “Do not worry. It will be simple.”

  “The quest should be completed in three weeks. Are you sure our people will be prepared to battle the Vikings by then?”

  “Yea, my princess, and we shall triumph over them.”

  “Do you think my grandfather and King Briac have joined forces with our people?”

  “I am certain of it. They know our plan is cunning. If they did not aid our cause, their lands would soon be imperiled. They are wise kings; they will join our struggle for survival.”

  She related her talks with Enid, and Trosdan was pleased.

  “Sleep now, my princess, for tomorrow will be a long day.”

  The four matches in each ring took place within two hours after midday, ending the fifth round and leaving two matches in each to go. Saeric, Eirik’s close friend, was eliminated without any severe wound. Lots were drawn again before the men rested for a while, as the remaining competitors would engage in three battles today.

  Round six required a longer period, as these men were the best warriors in camp. The closer the men came to final victory, the fiercer the fights became. Aidan and Eirik were paired off in the same ring, alarming Alysa. She observed the match intently, fearfully. But Aidan soon realized that Eirik was the superior fighter between them and yielded before either of them was injured. By the time that round ended, Alysa’s body was taut with anxiety. She could not help but wonder how Gavin would feel and behave if fate paired him with Weylin with her and a kingship at stake.

  The remaining twelve combatants were weary and bloody, and desperate to continue their struggle for one of the three championships. Before the evening meal and break of several hours, lots were drawn for the seventh bout which would leave one victor per ring for tomorrow’s final matches.

  Alysa could not eat. She was too nervous. Eirik had one more fight today, then one tomorrow. If he could become a champion—

  Enid encouraged, “Eat, Your Highness. I prepared this just for you.” The slave girl set a small vegetable-and-meat pie on the table. “Why do you worry so? You know who the winners will be.”

  To conceal her motives and real fears, Alysa replied, “I know who Odin has selected and shown to me. But Loki has many evil powers. He always seeks ways to defeat his half brother Odin. Loki is cruel and deceitful, and he is clever. If he prevents Ulf, Eirik, and Rolf from winning, my people will think I am not a Seer. They will think I have misled them. If I am doubted and cast out, all is lost.”

  “With the other gods behind Odin, Loki cannot beat him.”

  Alysa glanced at the happy slave and asked, “Have you come to believe as the Vikings do? Have you cast aside your Celtic ways?”

  “I love Rolf. I must believe as he does if he is to desire me and keep me. Can I use the potion tomorrow night after the last fight?”

  Alysa realized that the woman was utterly enslaved—physically and emotionally—by Rolf. “Yea, it will be safe to do so. After the three champions are chosen, we will rest for several days before we leave on the quest. If Rolf does not take you with him to serve him, you can have him each time a journey is over “and he returns for the next riddle. Will that please you, Enid?”

  The female smiled dreamily and nodded.

  Alysa dressed” carefully that night to look every inch the ruler of these people. Clad in a shimmering gown with flowing sleeves and skirt, she donned her Viking crown and many jewels. The greenish-blue shade of her garment enhanced her coloring and the cut of the gown with its low neckline and snug bodice was stunning and sensuous. Her cascading brown mane was unbound, and held in place with her golden circlet. With the dusty-blue powder from Trosdan, she lightly covered the area between her eyes and brows, making her eyes appear startlingly blue. She rubbed a pale-pink liquid over her lips, giving them more color and glow.

  The matches began in the six torchlit rings. Sweyn, Rolf’s friend, was defeated by a wound to his sword arm. Thorkel defeated his opponent by using the dagger which had belonged to Alysa, wounding Kirvan, another close friend of Rolf. As Alysa had told him when she gifted him with the dagger, it had saved his life.

  Ulf viciously opposed his rival and ran his sword through the man’s body. Afterward, he lifted it skyward and howled like a mad wolf. He growled and laughed and shook his broad shoulders, causing his long red lock to flop about upon his head. He seized a wineskin from a nearby man, threw back his head, and poured it down his throat. The red liquid overflowed his mouth and ran down his beard and chest.

  Rolf fought long and hard, but won his match. He walked to wher
e Alysa was standing at the edge of his ring and bowed to her, sending her an engulfing smile which exposed his burning desire for her. Even so, she realized how different he was from the offensive Ulf.

  Two other warriors won in their circles: Horik and Olaf.

  Alysa quickly moved to another ring where Eirik was furiously battling his rival. The men slashed at each other with glittering swords which sent off sparks like tiny bolts of lightning. The noise of their struggle was loud, often hurting her ears. As they labored inside the ring, firelight danced eerily on their bodies. Dust filled the cool night air as their boots moved swiftly upon the dry ground. Despite the gentle breeze, the men’s exertions caused them to sweat heavily. Beads of moisture ran down their faces, their chests, their arms. Garments were soon damp and clingy. Determination filled their eyes and minds.

  Both men received minor cuts and scrapes. The battle seemed to go on forever. Alysa tried to mask her fear and desire for Eirik, but it was difficult to maintain her self-control. She prayed that her presence was not distracting for Eirik, but she had to be there.

  At last, the match ended. But this time, Eirik was forced to slay his opponent because the man refused to yield. Alysa noticed how swiftly and mercifully her warrior took his rival’s life. Eirik walked to where she was standing and knelt before her.

  “Forgive his death, my queen,” he asked with a bowed head.

  Alysa reached forward and touched his shoulder. “Arise, Eirik, his fate was of his own doing. You fought well, and I am pleased.”

  Before the man stood, Alysa turned to leave, not daring for their gazes to meet while others were staring at them. The crowd parted for her to walk to the dais. Standing in the midst of a large crowd of rough men, she said, “There are six opponents left: Olaf, Horik, Rolf, Eirik, Thorkel, and Ulf. Tomorrow they will battle until only three champions remain. We will have one large ring where the battles can be viewed by all. As with our great nine-year feast, this competition will require nine days. Surely that is a good omen. When the matches are over, we will celebrate with good food and drink. Then we must rest and heal for two days before we divide into three bands to begin our journey. May Odin’s will be done.”