“I am tired of sitting around with nothing happening,” she whispered. “I’m done with this.”
But just as assuredly as she was done, she did not want to be done without her sister. Walking back to the keep on such a dark night was not something she wanted to do by herself. (This time her sister counted.)
“They’re out there. I just know it,” Maud whisper back fiercely.
“For the love of Odin,” Claire cursed under her breath. She knew what her sister meant was, ‘I’m staying until we see the wolves.’
***
The day had begun with the arrival of the visitor. Grandfather had introduced him as Jorunn Thora. Claire was intrigued by the man from the moment she saw him. It wasn’t only the man’s size—he was four or five, maybe even six inches taller than the other men Claire knew. He had broad shoulders and arms as thick as her mother’s thighs. It was hard for the teenage girl, who wasn’t around many males close to her age, to keep from gawking.
It wasn’t just that Jorunn was an impressive-looking man that attracted her so. There was more than that. She could tell from his conversation that he was an educated man. His mind was quick, and he had an ease and presence about him that made his handsome face and muscular body even more appealing to her.
She knew she was behaving in a way that, when she observed other girls doing this same thing, made her roll her eyes in disgust. It was just that there had never been a man around that seemed worth her interest. Especially the ones that came to court Maud. Jorunn Thora, on the other hand, was definitely worth her interest.
Her interest was piqued even more when she and Maud overheard a conversation between Jorunn and their grandfather. Their grandfather, Siward, was the Earl of Northumbria and therefore had many families in his lands that he was responsible for. Jorunn brought news that would affect those families.
“I followed them over from Denmark,” Jorunn Thora was saying when Claire started eavesdropping. “They roam in packs, taking no more than a half dozen from any one village.”
“I thought them myths,” Siward confessed.
“They have never ventured this far abroad before. There was no need to inform people of what was amongst them until now,” Jorunn said.
“How was it that your clan took on the burden of defending others?” Sounding more like a challenge, the question was put to the visitor by Claire’s father, Siward’s only son, Waltheof.
“It was what I was born into. How it began, I cannot say,” Jorunn replied. “What I can tell you is that once they move on, their mythical status will return. It is a reality that cannot be entertained without reminders.”
“You can assure us that they will move on?” Siward asked.
“They’ll head south. But you must remember, they only know how to navigate these waters. It’s likely they will return here to make the crossing back to their own lands. And that, my friend, is the reason why I bring you this news.” Jorunn turned to Waltheof with this remark.
“What are you advising?” Waltheof asked.
“Bring all your families into the compound at night. Double your fires, triple your guards, and make sure you tell your men to—”
“Girls!” Waltheof bellowed. “Remove yourselves—now!”
Their father had caught them listening. And though Claire wanted to protest being sent away, she rose with her sister and left the room.
***
“Do you still think we’re looking for a pack of wolves?” Claire asked her sister, using the sound of her voice to cover the noise of her stretching her legs.
“What else could he have been talking about?” Maud answered. “Now be quiet. This is our chance to see an entire pack.”
“I suppose,” Claire said, somewhat accepting Maud’s conclusion for lack of having a better idea herself. She wondered why a man like Jorunn Thora would waste his time going after wolves. The logic escaped her. But then, the men had been talking about predators … What else could it be but wolves?
“The mist is growing,” Claire said in a complaining voice.
“Shush.”
Claire grumbled quietly under her breath at her sister’s command. She was stuck, and she knew it. The worst part was that sneaking out to look for the wolves had been her idea. ‘It’s Jorunn’s fault,’ she thought. ‘He made it sound as if they would be all over the valley.’
Claire’s eyes roamed over the lifeless landscape. ‘But … there is something.’ Peering through the mist, she saw a form just moving into view. ‘There’s more than one,’ she thought, feeling her excitement rekindling.
Unable to discern what she was seeing, Claire kept silent. For all she knew, it was merely a herd of deer. No need saying anything to Maud until she knew what she was looking at. The figures moved into a small clearing. “They’re men!” she said, in surprise.
“Where?” Maud whispered.
“Over there,” Claire pointed.
“Look at how fast they’re running,” Maude said. “They must be tracking something.”
Claire, like her sister, scoured the woods ahead of the men for signs of movement. As she did, there was something about these men that gnawed at her mind. What it was … she couldn’t put her finger on. As she tried to identify what they were chasing, her eyes kept being pulled back to the running men.
They were traveling through the trees, but as the spring leaves were little more than a promise at this time of the year, Claire could see them fairly well. There were six men, all running fast—very fast. In fact, too fast! Claire was having a hard time trusting her eyes.
‘How is that possible?’ Claire wondered when it dawned on her that the men had been sprinting across the valley at an impossible speed. “No one could keep that up. Their guts would split,’ she thought as the memory of her own experience with side stitches came to her.
Touching the right side of her ribs, Claire marveled at the incredible endurance the group was displaying only to realize she had recognized something else. ‘They’re loping more than running.’
The thought stunned her as she tried to find an explanation for the spectacle before her eyes. Here they were, looking for a pack of wolves, but what they found was a group of men moving as those animals would.
“It’s as if they’re acting like a pack of wolves,” she whispered in wonder.
“Look!” Maud pointed back to where the pack had come from.
Claire followed her sister’s finger, squinted and, “There’s one more … Wait … This one’s not loping.” The man was running, fast, but not moving like the others. Still, he was closing the distance.
“He’s … he’s carrying something,” Claire said, trying to get her eyes to bring it into focus.
“It’s almost as if he’s chasing them,” Maud added, her voice expressing the same puzzlement that Claire was experiencing.
As Maud was speaking, Claire saw two of the figures drop back from the group as if waiting for the one following.
The stragglers slowed, separated, then positioned themselves behind trees. Trees on either side of the track the following man was on! Startled, Claire’s mind yelled, “Ambush!” as she put her hand over her mouth to keep from screaming out loud. The man would not have heard her, but her grandfather’s guards surely would have. If she did not want to get in trouble, she would have to keep quiet and just watch.
That did not sit well with Claire. She was sure she would be witnessing the two waylaying the lone man. The unfairness of it overwhelmed her. Her frustration clamored for release. She screamed … not with her voice, but with her mind.
Inexplicably, the lone figure hesitated; his uncertain steps slowing to a stop. He looked up in her direction, and then, again breaking into a run, altered his course just enough that he was heading directly for the ambusher on his right.
Her mouth gaping, Claire thought, ‘Impossible!’ But, try as she might, she could find no other explanation for the man’s actions.
***
Impossible was a wor
d that carried a different meaning for Claire than it did for most people. Ever since the day she was born, an event she still retained a clear memory of, she had always felt that, what everyone else professed as truth, was not necessarily the way it was.
Up to this—her fifteenth year of life—her maverick-like perspective revealed itself as a need to understand the physical body beyond the established thoughts of the time. From injuries, ailments, and how the body responded to modern day treatments, Claire was a sponge for any medical information that she could get her hands on.
This unquenchable thirst for knowledge had also led to the ability to read, write, think, and dream in several languages. And, even though no one would admit that she, a woman, was a scholar, when you looked at the evidence, there was no denying it. She was a scholar who always had another question.
So, even though the word ‘Impossible’ had flashed through her mind when the man acted as if he had heard her thoughts, young Claire knew the evidence said otherwise.
***
The distance was too far to pick out details. All Claire could tell was that the three men were coming together. The lone man carried a sword. The other two appeared to be unarmed. Not exactly a fair fight, but because she desperately wanted to question him about what he had experienced, Claire found herself rooting for the man with the weapon.
Claire and her sister watched him approach the tree. Reaching out with the sword, he tapped the tree. The waiting individual exploded out from behind it. The sword flashed through the man’s neck, lopping off his head.
“Oh no!” Claire gasped. The second ambusher was charging up behind the sword bearer. Only the swinging weapon never stopped after cutting through the first neck. Claire’s mind-reader continued to spin, catching his second attacker’s neck at shoulder level.
The two attackers took a couple more steps and, from a distance, appeared to run out from under their heads. Then, both heads, looking like they were still floating, burst into a brilliant white light.
An instant later, the sound of the explosion reached the top of the hill.
Chapter 4
Maud jumped like a deer surprised by the bowman’s arrow. Before the brilliant light could fade, she had scrambled half-way back to the keep.
Claire froze, stunned by the explosions and her sister’s sudden departure. Before the light from the blasts faded, it etched its shadow in Claire’s eyes obliterating anything she might have been able to see in the darkness.
Claire was at a loss. She wanted to find out what had happened in the valley, but she also—especially now—wanted Maud’s company.
The dwindling sound of her sister’s rapidly moving footsteps pushed Claire to a decision. Breaking into a sprint, she ran after Maud.
Even with Maud running as if she were being chased by a ghost, Claire was sure she could catch up with her sister. Maud had never been a match for Claire’s athletic ability.
But then, the thought hit her. Only it was not her thought. Like a gentle intruder, someone was talking inside her head. The words, ‘Thank you,’ rang loud and clear. And though they came without a sound her ears could perceive, there was still a hint of a voice—a voice Claire recognized immediately.
Feeling lightheaded, Claire slowed, then stumbled. She crashed down and rolled down across the rocks, unable to stop until, with a splash, she came to rest in a puddle.
She lay there trying to catch her breath while mud oozed into her garments. For a while, it was all she could do as her mind attempted to make sense of the inexplicable. When her teeth started to chatter from the chill of the water, she rolled over and got to her knees.
She tried to stand but the wet clothes and mud made it impossible, so on hands and knees, Claire crawled out of the muck and onto the rocky slope. Scraping as much grime from her clothes as she could, she took stock of her condition. Nothing was broken, plenty was bruised, and everything was covered in far too much dirt for her father or grandfather to believe anything but the truth.
“So much for sneaking back into the keep without being noticed,” she moaned, rubbing a tender hip. “Maybe no one will be up,” she prayed as she struggled to her feet and stumbled painfully up the slope. Her slender, almost delicate body, protested as it usually did when her sturdiness of spirit pushed it beyond what it wanted to do. Her athletic ability came from determination, not from natural talent.
She made her way to the keep and the one door she might be able to slip through without being noticed. Opening the door slowly, she eased herself in and started down the hall. Halfway to the stair that led to her room, her dripping mud trail stopped and began mounding up around her feet. Blocking her way was the Earl of Northumbria. In the room behind her grandfather, mired in a heated argument that ended abruptly when Claire appeared, was her father and Jorunn Thora.
“Good evening, gentlemen,” the young woman smiled.
“What happened to you, my dear?” Siward asked.
“I tripped,” Claire answered, fidgeting with her mud-laden skirt.
“Ah, I see,” he said covering his twitching mouth with his hand. Finally, he lost control, and Siward’s mighty laugh roared through the castle. If anyone had managed to sleep through the exploding heads, they would now, most assuredly, be rattled from their sleep.
“I thought you were the sure-footed one,” he grinned after his laughter ebbed enough for him to get the words out.
“I was distracted,” Claire grimaced, her eyes darting from her grandfather to Jorunn.
“So I hear,” Siward said, the lines of amusement in his face relaxing as he looked at her solemnly. “We will talk more after the coming of the sun. For now, clean up the best you can, and this time, stay in bed.”
“May I ask—”
“Girl, I would say you have used what coin you had. My advice would be to stay in bed until you are called.”
A maid was summoned from her bed, and standing Claire in a large tub, stripped off her clothes, then dumped a large bucket of freezing water over her head.
Claire squealed, and with chattering teeth, demanded to know why the maid had not warmed the water.
“Sorry, miss,” the girl replied with no apology in her voice, “but my head’s so befuddled with sleep, I must have forgotten.”
Claire glared at her, but there was nothing for it. She endured the rough toweling and was glad for the warmth it brought.
***
The sun could not come fast enough, for sleep never did. There were too many questions such as, why was Jorunn chasing those men and who were they anyway? And why did their heads explode? Or, how did it happen that he stopped just when he did? Could it be he actually heard her thoughts?
Just the disembodied ‘thank you’ that had come to her would have been enough to keep the average person from slumber. And, though Claire found interesting subjects and events that would have others running away while making the sign of the cross, the events she had come across this night left her very uneasy.
Jorunn Thora ... It all kept leading back to him. Who was he, and what would justify killing those two in an unfair fight? Restlessly, Claire threw the bedclothes off and was about to swing her legs over the side of the bed when the look on her father’s face passed through her mind. He had been as upset as she had ever seen him.
“He didn’t even say goodnight,” Claire said aloud as she squirmed back into her bedding. “Oh well, maybe he’ll be okay once he gets his breakfast.”
The sun was brightening the sky now, but as the scent of breakfast had yet to reach her room, she expected she had better stay put. Then a rustling came from around the corner of the room as a head poked into her private space.
“I thought so … You’re awake,” Maud smiled as she barged in.
“I was told to wait in bed,” Claire pouted.
“Grandfather?”
Claire nodded.
“I’ve come with new orders. He wants you to get presentable, and then join him at table.”
“Hi
s?” Claire asked with a gulp.
“That’s what he said.”
***
Summoned to the head table was worry enough. But the mud that had failed to come off with the bucket of water that had been maliciously dumped over her last night was now caked to her skin and would not come off. Left with no choice if she was to make it to breakfast on time, Claire walked down to the stream, braced herself, and walked in.
Her teeth were still rattling when she walked into the hall.
‘At least, I’m presentable,’ she thought, checking her clean arms for goosebumps.
“Claire,” her grandfather called as she approached the table. “Eat with your sister. We’ll talk after breakfast.”
‘So much for the head table,’ Claire pouted as she headed back to her usual seat. ‘If I’ve cleaned up for no reason …’
The thought trailed off as her sister greeted her. Then it left her entirely as she and Maud talked about their late-night escapade. Unbelievably, Maud denied not only her headlong flight from their hiding place but the explosions as well.
At first, Claire thought Maud was joking. But when her sister continued to remember last night in a completely different way than she did, Claire considered that the shock of the exploding heads had been too much for the girl.
As they ate, she rummaged through her memories, seeking a possible cure for her deranged sister. Convinced that, of the four humors, melancholy was the likely problem, she mulled over possible powers, poultices, tinctures, and ointments, ‘Balm, Borage, Mugwort, Hops—'
“Claire,” Maud whispered, poking her with an elbow. “Father.”
“Maud!” she protested. Her ribs were still sore from her tumble.
“Father wants you.”
Claire looked up. The frown on her father’s face told her that he was still upset. “Oh, dear,” she said as she recognized that he was beckoning her to join him.
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