The Last Viking Queen

by Taylor, Janelle

  Alysa prayed she would not get nauseous witnessing this offensive sight. Ulf chopped and slurped and belched. Whenever meat got stuck between his teeth, he clawed at it with his dirty fingers or picked at it with a small knife. Ever so often he wiped his greasy mouth on his sleeve, leaving behind stains and pieces of food on the thin material. He quaffed down a pitcher of ale and shouted for another one, which was brought quickly.

  Alysa daintily used the cloth which she had brought with her to clean her fingers and lips between bites. Even if Ulf had provided one, she had feared it would not be clean. To avoid such an offering and to be prepared, she had tucked a clean cloth into a pocket. She wondered how long and how much the large man could ingest.

  Ulf lifted several tripe sausages, smacking and sucking on them until their juices were removed before gnawing heartily on them. Bits of food lined his mouth and stuck in his mustache. His face and hands were shiny from grease. His platter looked like a pig’s trough. She was repulsed by him.

  For a time, they had eaten in silence. Then Ulf began to ask her many questions, about herself, her heritage, and her homeland. Between unwanted bites and sips, she planned her next words. She lightly went over her bloodline and history, and talked about Damnonia, telling the man little, but making it seem as if she was revealing a lot.

  Finally, Ulf pushed back from the table to give his distended belly more room. “What plans do you have for us, my queen?”

  “After the quest and my marriage, we will begin our conquest of this isle. I have many ideas in mind, but I will explain them later when all can discuss them.”

  He remarked, “It will be hard living without captives to serve us.”

  “We are a strong and clever race, Ulf. We can tend ourselves. During your many travels, surely there were times when no woman was around to wait upon you. It is simple to roast a deer or fowl or pig upon a spit. And it is no trouble to throw meats and vegetables into a cauldron to make stew. We will manage fine on the trail. Slaves would get in our way and slow us down, and we cannot leave them here alone.” To change the subject, she coaxed, “Tell me, what of your family back home? How many wives and children do you have? What of your property and rank?” She turned the conversation on him to pass the time and to protect herself.

  “I have four wives and three other women who… tend my needs. I have a large appetite to fill,” he remarked, his lewd grin exposing his real meaning. “They have given me thirteen children, but only four little ones are still in my house. I own much land, and I am a lord in my area, a chieftain as you Celts call it.”

  “Why did you leave such wealth and pleasure to come here?”

  Excitement filled Ulf’s beady eyes and widened them. “There is no greater pleasure and honor than to go araiding. A lord always needs more riches to support himself and to ward off rivals. We live as many do on your isle, in tribes or clans. I am head of my clan. We only unite for battle or raiding. Such will be true of Rolf when his father dies. But Eirik has no land or tribe or wealth or family. He is a wanderer, nothing more.”

  Alysa caught the undertones of his remarks. So, she concluded, Ulf had a fierce rival back home who wanted his lands and rank, and the heartless beast did not like Rolf and Eirik. “Who protects your lands and families while you are away?”

  “My four sons. They have houses near mine. We go araiding one at a time while the others see to chores and defense. When I return home, I will take them plunder and pretty wenches as gifts.”

  “You do not plan to remain here after our conquest?”

  He looked at her as if she were mad. “Nay, this is a land of weaklings. Good for nothing more than plundering and catching slaves. You will rule in our land, from my home,” he added smugly.

  Alysa refuted as politely as she could manage. “I must remain here; that is Odin’s wish, for me to conquer this land and to control it. If you become my husband, you must remain here, too. If you desire, you can move your families here. I will see that my husband gets the best area and castle. Of course, your present wives must be reduced to concubines, as a High King can have but one. You may keep them in another castle and visit them when the mood strikes you.”

  Ulf chuckled and shook his head, causing his unbound red hair to flutter wildly about his shoulders. “As king, I will be the master of our home, the giver of orders. We will live and rule where I choose. It is the man’s right and duty.”

  “A common man’s, yea; but the Last Viking Queen’s husband, nay, Ulf. You can become my helper and mate, but not my ruler or master. Surely you know our laws better than I. Even without them, Odin has spoken, and his command is to remain here.”

  “We will decide such matters after we are wed,” he told her, already plotting how to bend and break this strong and vexing woman. She was beautiful and desirable, and he imagined himself greedily and forcefully ravishing her body. He would keep her with child every month so she would be forced to stay home, out of his hair and business. He would rule his people, not this spirited wench with mixed blood! Once she produced him a royal heir, if she disobeyed him, she would be dealt with swiftly.

  Sweat beaded on Ulf’s face from the strong drink and lecherous musings. He called to the captive, “More ale, sluggard beast!”

  The nervous woman rushed forward, stumbling and sloshing ale on Ulf’s shirt. The man jumped to his feet and bellowed at the frightened slave, “Stupid fool of a nag! Beg for punishment, will you?” He backhanded her cheek with great force, sending the woman to her knees. She covered her lowered head to ward off his blows, whimpering and pleading for mercy.

  Alysa also jumped to her feet. She commanded, “Nay, Ulf! It was not her fault. My foot was spread too far and she tripped upon it. I am to blame for the spill, not her. It is foolish to whip a good slave, to injure her beyond serving you further. I know there are plenty of slaves to be had here, but we have no time for them. Few women can prepare such meals or tend you as well as she does. Leave the poor creature be,” she urged firmly.

  Ulf’s face was suffused with rage at both women. Never had any female corrected him, and especially before another one! This bold and haughty queen would pay for her rash deed when she belonged to him! Yet for now he must use wisdom and caution. He lowered the hand which had been about to beat the woman and shrugged. “I did not see the accident. She is clumsy all the time. Only punishment can help her.”

  Alysa helped the woman to her feet and checked her injury. “I will-have Trosdan come and tend it for you in the morning. Go, wash your face and calm yourself.” As the grateful woman obeyed, Alysa explained to Ulf in a gentle tone, “She is clumsy, Ulf, because you terrify her. If you cannot be kind in manner and gentle of voice, at least do not be loud and cruel. You need not show your power over her with such brutal actions; she knows you are master and she must obey. My castle is large and I have many servants. They do not disobey and become lazy because I treat them as people. Nay, they serve me better. If you do not believe such words, try them and see I am right.”

  “As you wish, my queen,” he said, lying in outrage.

  “It is late and I am weary from my long ride. Thank you for a wonderful meal and good company tonight. I will see you tomorrow.”

  Ulf walked to the door with her, then closed it after she left. He turned to the petrified woman. “Come to me, old hag.”

  The captive knew he was enraged, but she was helpless. She ordered her legs to obey, going to stand before him. Yet she felt hope tonight, as the new ruler was kind and gentle …

  Ulf stripped her, bound her to his bed, and gagged her. “I will teach you to make the fool of me before the queen. She is stubborn and stupid as you are.” To release his fury and to punish the woman in Alysa’s place, he beat the defenseless victim like a madman. When she was nearly unconscious, but still thinking how to reach the queen tomorrow with a warning about this evil man, he drove his manhood into her and ravished her brutally.

  Afterward, he arose and stood looking down at her bruised a
nd battered body. A malicious grin spread over his ruddy face, then he laughed with satanic pleasure. He wiped the sweat from his face, then spat upon her, “I know how to deal with you, old hag. I will follow the queen’s orders tomorrow, and I will persuade the others to agree. She likes slaves, does she? I will punish her by showing her what a pagan slave like you is good for—to feed the wolves and vultures. Soon, she will be the one in your place!”

  Ulf retrieved his knife and plunged it into her body many times, chuckling as he did so. When he ceased, he wrapped her in a blanket and carried her body far from camp. He shoved it into a gulley and sent forth a wolf howl, as if calling them to supper. Feeling aroused again by his wicked deed, he rode to the nearest farm to find another innocent female victim to ravish and slay.

  When Alysa reached her dwelling, she closed and barred the door and leaned against it. Trosdan watched her, then asked, “What happened, Alysa? Did he harm you?”

  “Nay, Wise One,” she replied, then related the events at Ulf’s. “I despise him. I am glad not all of my ancestors’ people are like him. When the attack comes, I wish to slay him myself! “

  “If the time comes, I will do so before that day,” Trosdan vowed.

  “Nay, Wise One, take no such risks,” she protested. “If he died not at the hand of a foe, you would fall under suspicion, as would I.”

  To put her mind on other matters, Trosdan ventured, “Would you like to hear the first clue and where the treasure can be found?”

  Alysa joined him and responded eagerly, “Yea, Wise One.”

  When he finished his tale, Alysa smiled happily. “You are very clever, Wise One. Soon our task will end in victory.”

  “By now, the second bird has reached Lord Weylin. It will not be much longer before we can return home as victors and live in peace. We must guard our last bird carefully, Princess, as he is the signal for attack. Our timing must be perfect.”

  In Damnonia, Weylin read the first part of the message again with a broad smile and sigh of relief:

  “All goes well. Contest over. Quest begins Friday. Be prepared. Leave message at healing waters as planned.”

  In the morning he would send this good news to King Bardwyn and King Briac. Within two weeks, the three forces would take their positions near their-borders with Logris. A messenger line would be set up from camp to camp for swift passing of information. Then he would camp at the old Roman baths to await Alysa’s summons. All was prepared. Men were trained and practicing and supplies had been gathered. So far, no one had realized that Princess Alysa was away.

  Weylin thought about Lady Kordel back at his estate and how much he missed her. He had managed two visits while gathering supplies and collecting men to train. His heart warmed, as did his body. Dreams of Alysa no longer plagued him; perhaps fate had only used her to prepare his heart and mind to open to a special woman like her. He was in love with Kordel, truly in love for the first time, and-he found this reality pleasing and timely. He wanted to marry the woman, to share all things with her to live here in peace and prosperity. He had confessed his feelings to the lovely woman, and she had agreed. When Alysa returned, he would ask the ruler to betroth them.

  Weylin’s attention returned to the message which was written in tiny letters on the back of a furry skin. He had taken it from around the skillfully trained bird’s leg. He focused on the last part. Later he would discuss the curious request with Gavin, but he knew what had to be done at this time. He wrote out his reply and sent for Piaras, the castle trainer of knights and squires. It would be less noticeable for the aged man, dressed as a peasant to carry the message to the old Roman baths and conceal it. Hopefully, news of Gavin would ease Alysa’s anguish and worries …

  The next afternoon; Alysa left her dwelling dressed in a thigh-length tunic over comfortable pants. As she headed for the corral, she saw Aidan and Saeric, and cunningly invited them to be her escorts. While riding, perhaps she could learn more about Eirik.

  It was harder than she had imagined, as the two men were not very talkative. They seemed awed and intimidated by their beautiful queen, and responses had to be pulled from them. She asked them many questions about themselves, but was not truly interested in their answers. She did not want to get too friendly with men she was going to have slain! Their deaths troubled her, yet could not be prevented, as they were foes, something she had to remind herself of many times these days.

  “What of your friend Eirik? Where is he today?” she asked.

  “He left camp early this morning. He is restless to begin the quest, as I would be in his place. He will win,” Aidan boasted proudly. “He can fight as ten men, with any weapon, even his bare hands.”

  “Yea, Aidan,” Saeric concurred, “he will become our king. He is a brave and handsome man, my queen. He will make a good husband and ruler. We will follow him proudly, as we follow you.”

  “If he wins the quest,” Alysa teased merrily to relax them.

  “Few compare to Eirik.” He will win.”

  “You like him very much, do you not, Saeric?” she inquired.

  “He is a born ruler, a matchless leader of men, a warrior without weaknesses. Yea, my queen, he is our friend.”

  “It is good to have such friends as you two. Only a special man could influence others so deeply. That pleases me.” Alysa thought of Gavin’s six friends, then reminded herself that Bevan was dead. Yea, it was good to have friends one could depend on and trust fully. In this manner, Eirik was so like her husband: She called Eirik’s image to mind. Where had the scar come from and how could it have healed so quickly if he was Gavin? Only powerful sorcery could have placed it there, removed his royal tattoo, and changed his memories. Einar did not possess such, awesome powers. Then, who did? And why?

  Alysa repeated them the same question she had asked Rolf. “You have not known him long to be so close. Is he not new here?”

  Aidan and Saeric glanced at each other and passed an unseen message between them. They did not want the queen to think their friend unworthy of her and the rank of High King because of his length of time with them. With Saeric’s mute agreement, Aidan lied. “He has been in this camp only a short time, but we have known him many years. We have shared countless adventures in other lands and visited him in Hengist’s camp after our arrival here. He has no family at home, so he continued his adventures while we returned to our families for a time. He was restless in Hengist’s camp and unhappy, so we persuaded him to join us again. Many times over the years he has saved our lives and helped us obtain much treasure.”

  “What of the scar on his face? How did he get it?” she asked.

  A friend would know the answer, so Aidan replied cleverly, “On one of our raids long ago, we were attacked by savage barbarians. There were three to five foes to each of us. Eirik slew many, but was wounded while saving my life. If it is needed, mine belongs to him.”

  Saeric added, “He will make you a perfect husband, my queen. You will be good for him. He is lonely. Already we see how his eyes follow you and adore you. Pray to Odin for Eirik to win, as he is far above Ulf and Rolf.”

  “I will not be displeased if Eirik wins, but the choice is not mine and I can show no favor to him. Nor is Rolf a bad choice, but I do not care for Ulf,” she confessed cleverly to pretend as if confiding in them, hoping they would do the same with her.

  “You are right, my queen. Ulf is not liked among us.”

  “Why does he have such power and high rank?” she asked.

  “He won them, and no warrior has been able to take them from him. He kills without mercy, even his friends. The man he fought in the last match was his friend. He is evil. Perhaps Loki rules his heart.”

  “I feasted with him last night, and your words could be true.” To test the men’s feelings, she revealed what Ulf had done.

  Both men scowled, and Alysa was pleased but tormented. “We must head back. Soon the evening meal will be served.”

  As they neared camp, billowing smoke caug
ht their attention. From the smell and color of the smoke, all knew it was a funeral pyre, a large one. The sickly sweet odor of burning flesh and bone filled her nostrils and caused Calliope to prance nervously.

  Of necessity, Alysa gasped, “Can so many of my subjects have died from wounds? Why must it be so amongst friends?” At the corral, Alysa made a startling and horrifying discovery.

  Ulf joined them with several others. He grinned and said, “It is done, my queen, as you wished. We have ridded ourselves of the troublesome slaves. They will be no threat to us. Come morning, we will be ready to ride and all will be safe here for those left behind.”

  “What do you mean?” she asked, unable to conceal her dismay. Somehow she knew what had taken place during her absence, and dread filled her. Yet she rapidly mastered her feelings.

  Rolf walked over to them. Alysa met his solemn gaze and inquired, “Have you slain all prisoners?”

  Without returning her smile, Rolf replied, “All but five trusted captives. Ulf said you wished to be rid of them today. Why did you not tell me before leaving camp with Eirik’s friends?”

  Alysa’s wide gaze flew to Ulf’s devilish expression. This man could not be trusted. He was bold and daring, cruel and deceitful. She took Ulf’s deed as a challenge. She had no choice but to call his bluff, even if it meant calling him a liar! “I gave no such command to Ulf or to another. Why did you not wait to question me, Rolf? I said the slaves were to be released before our departure. They were helpless women, not strong manly foes to be slaughtered proudly and bravely by my warriors.”

  Ulf responded quickly with feigned innocence. “I misunderstood your wishes and orders, my queen. Forgive me. It is too late. While you were gone, we slew them. Now they burn.”

  Alysa glared at the flame-haired man and used the best insult she could imagine, “This is a bad omen, Ulf. Odin said to free the captives, not slay and burn them. This very moment their foul stench burns his nose and displeases him! What threat were silly females to us? None. They were to return to their homes and villages and tell all of our power so their people would tremble in fear of us. This dark deed will turn the peasants against us and cause trouble while we are trying to carry out our sacred quest. To enslave some frightens them, but to slay their women gives them the hatred and courage to harass us!”