“Kadlin, you know you can’t outrun me,” he called out from behind her. She often teased and pestered him until he stopped what he was doing and chased after her. Today she’d sneaked up behind him, yanking on the long, thin, single braid that hung down one side of his head, and then ran away quickly.
He was two years her senior and also the son of Jarl Gunnar. He’d been training to take the place of his father and rule their farming village of Skathwaite since the day he was born.
Brandr was on her heels and when she looked back over her shoulder, the boy dove for her. His hands clasped around her waist and they both fell to the ground, laughing.
“Kadlin, you shouldn’t play games like that. I’m a warrior and will always catch you. Besides, sneaking up on me wasn’t a good idea. I could have taken your head off with my battle axe before I knew it was you.” Loose strands of Brandr’s long, blond hair lifted in the breeze and he pushed his lone braid to the side as he positioned his face directly above hers, staring at her lips.
“Brandr Gunnison, you need someone to make you smile and laugh once in a while and I’m the one to do it. Now get off of me or I’ll have to show you a move my mother taught me to keep the boys at bay. And I assure you, you won’t be laughing.”
Kadlin’s mother had been a shieldmaiden since before she was married and often accompanied the men on raids. She was proud of her skills and that she was able to fight with the warriors to help supply the village with goods they needed in order to survive. But with her mother often gone as well as her father, that left Kadlin to care for the land and her three younger siblings along with the other women of the village.
“Go ahead and try.” Brandr’s brow lifted and his mouth turned up into a smirk. He knew as well as she did that she didn’t possess the warrior skills of her mother. Instead, she’d inherited the gift of her late grandmother who was once the seer of the clan.
Kadlin lifted her knee to his groin, but Brandr was too quick and managed to move out of the way.
“I saw that coming without even being a seer,” he said with a chuckle. Then he did something that she knew had been coming for quite some time now since she’d had a vision about it months ago. Or perhaps she’d created the vision with hopeful wishing, but either way it was about to come true.
He leaned over, his long hair as well as the flowers enclosing them in a moment of privacy as he reached out and pressed his lips against hers in a quick kiss.
Kadlin stilled beneath his touch, looking up through the fields of Fjellminneblom – or mountain flower memories all around her. Here is where she’d had the vision of him kissing her. Right here in the field of flowers that most people called Forget-me-nots. Well, she certainly would never forget this moment as long as she lived.
“You kissed me!” She pushed up off the ground in excitement to a sitting position. Her hand went to her lips that were still wet from the essence of his strong mouth upon hers. She liked the way his lips had felt against hers. It was even better than she’d envisioned. She never thought his lips would feel so soft, or his hands so warm against her body. It was her first kiss and she was thrilled it came from a boy she admired. They’d grown up together and she felt closer to Brandr than she did any of the others in the entire village. She and Brandr had always been good friends.
He hunkered down next to her with his bright blue-green eyes the color of the vast North Sea drinking her in. She swore she saw a mischievous twinkle within them, and it made her smile to know that not all the Viking men were angry and vengeful. She liked this side of him and hoped he would never turn out to be like his father. His father, the jarl – or earl, was always serious and focused on farming and raids. She swore she had never even seen the man smile in all the years she’d known him.
“Kadlin, you are at marrying age now. I will marry you when I return from raiding and you will become my wife.”
“You . . . will?” Being Brandr’s wife had always been a dream of hers. She would be married not only to a warrior who would someday be jarl of the clan, but she’d also be spending the rest of her life with someone she trusted and admired. She didn’t have time to rejoice from his announcement, because a new vision flashed through her mind just then, blocking out any happiness or rays of light and hope. This vision wasn’t of kissing a boy in a field of flowers – this time it was a much darker vision. This time, instead of love and new beginnings, she saw death and destruction.
In her mind’s eye she saw dozens of Viking warriors, all bloodied and broken, lying dead upon the grounds of a foreign land. Gooseflesh rose on her arms and she shivered though the day was not cold at all. She shook her head and wrapped her arms around her body in a false sense of security. “Brandr, do not go on the raid with the others today. Stay here in Skathwaite. Please.”
“Not go?” he asked with a hearty laugh. “I wouldn’t even consider it. This is my first real raid and I’ll finally be able to go with the men overseas. I’ve trained for this my entire life.”
“It’s too dangerous,” she warned him.
“Ja, it might be dangerous, but I assure you, I’m well prepared. I’ll be back, and as soon as I return, we’ll marry. I have it all planned out.”
“I feel ill all of a sudden,” she told him, hearing screams and clashing swords and the sound of horses’ hooves trampling across a hardened ground – all in her head.
“Are you afraid I’ll forget you?” His voice was carefree and light and she had to remind herself that he couldn’t hear or see the visions she was experiencing. She almost wished he could. If so, maybe he’d consider her warning.
She licked her lips and instead of the sweet essence of his kiss lingering on her tongue, now she only tasted the irony tang of unshed blood. A sudden odor of rotting flesh drifted past her on the breeze and it was very unsettling. Her visions were getting stronger. What she’d just seen would happen in the very near future, she was sure of it. Whenever she could see, hear, smell, and taste a vision – it was about to materialize quickly. The last time she had such a strong vision was the day her grandmother died.
“Promise me,” she said, feeling grief and desperation within her heart. “Promise me you’ll return to me, Brandr.” She reached out and grabbed his hands tightly, squeezing them between hers. She longed to hold on to him and keep him from leaving on the longboats with the rest of the raiders that were already preparing for their journey.
He pulled away from her grasp, and reached down and picked a stalk of the mountain flowers and slipped it between the twines of one of her braids. “This flower is my promise. Wear this Forget-me-not and when you look at it, you’ll remember that a Viking’s promise is never broken. To break a promise would be dishonorable. Any true Viking would rather die than to not keep his word to one of his kind. You should know that, Kadlin.”
“I do know that,” she said, but this knowledge did nothing to calm her.
He smiled at her, and in his eyes she saw the sincerity of his words as well as the pride of who he was. One large, strong hand reached out, and he cupped her cheek with his palm. She finally relaxed and leaned into the warmth and security of his touch.
The sweet scent of the small, blue flowers all around her now replaced the repugnant odor of death, managing to put her at ease for a mere moment. She reached up to her braid, and fingered the delicate blue petals of the dainty flower that now held the heavy weight of such a strong promise. She closed her eyes and inhaled the scent of the flowers – of his promise, remembering how it smelled, sounded, tasted and felt.
She wanted to believe him, honestly she did, but her grandmother’s blood running through her veins guarded her heart and she was still uncertain. She felt the sudden stab of pain in her chest that told her things weren’t going to turn out as planned. Then the realization came to her that if he left today on the longboats without her, he would never return to be able to keep his promise.
A horn sounded from the shore – the low, sad wail snaking through the peaceful air
like an omen she wished she could ignore. The sound caused a flock of black-backed gulls to rise up in the air and circle above the longboats before heading out toward the sea to feed.
Brandr helped Kadlin to her feet. Then taking her hand in his, they ran down the hill and back toward the village where everyone was making preparations to send the party of men off to sea. They followed the winding, beaten path through the village of longhouses made from wattle and daub, topped off with thatched roofs. Each house was large enough to accommodate several families, and also their animals that lived in a byre at one end, and under the same roof.
Down the hill and in the distance, five longboats could be seen at the shore, ready for the trip over the sea to the coasts of Northumbria. No one knew the way for sure, but the jarl was sure they could find the same shores off the little island of Lindisfarne. This had been the island that housed a Christian monastery where the monks worshipped their own god, not the Norse gods of Odin, Thor or Freyja. Viking raiders had raided the monastery just five years earlier and brought back with them gold and silver and more wealth than one could even imagine.
“Come. See me off,” Brandr told her. “My father will be wondering where I am.”
They pushed through the throes of mostly women and children who were bringing baskets of smoked meat, dried bilberries, hazelnuts and seeds, and fresh baked bread of oats and barley to the men for their journey. Others carried animal skin flasks of ale and mead and water from the spring for the men.
The longboats were being loaded with battle axes, swords, spears, and even a long battering ram and several scaling ladders as well. Their round, wooden shields were painted in bright colors of blue and red, and hooked onto the outside of the ship, leaving room for the protruding oars.
They made their way down to the shore where dozens of Viking warriors were embracing their wives and children, and saying what could very well be their last goodbyes. Everyone was excited for the opportunity to venture to new lands and bring back wealth that they could trade and use to make their lives better.
“Mother,” called Kadlin, seeing her mother standing on the shore with her youngest brother, six-year-old Ospak in her arms. Her sister, Asa, stood next to her, holding the hand of their other brother, Orri. “Are you going with father on the raid?” That sick feeling was back in her gut as she waited for her mother’s answer.
“I will not go this time, Kadlin, as I am with child.” Her mother, Signy, smiled and held her palm over her stomach to prove her point.
“Really. How wonderful!” This was an unexpected but welcome surprise for Kadlin. While Kadlin was already fourteen years of age and her younger sister, Asa, was twelve, their brothers were much younger. And now her mother would have a baby again. She was relieved to hear this, because that meant her mother would be safe from the awful vision she had about the upcoming raid.
“The jarl wants you to go with them on the raid this time,” her mother told her. At first Kadlin thought she was jesting, until her mother explained why. “He wants you there to read the runes and talk to the gods for them. He said you’d be able to help them find their way and not get lost at sea. He also said you’d be able to decipher whatever messages the gods have to guide them.”
“Me?” This isn’t what Kadlin wanted to hear. She had never actually talked to the gods before and this was not the time to try it. “It’s obvious I am not a warrior and have no skill as a shieldmaiden, but neither have I ever really talked to the gods,” she retorted.
“I’ve started training as a shieldmaiden,” said her sister proudly from her mother’s side, raising her chin high in the air. “And when I’m of age, I’ll go on the longboats and raid with the men. I’ll not be afraid like you, Kadlin.”
“Asa, hold your tongue,” she scolded her younger sister. “I’m not a coward. I’m concerned because I’ve had a vision and it wasn’t good.”
“You just admitted you can’t talk to the gods, so your visions meaning nothing at all,” rallied her sister.
Kadlin looked over to Brandr in desperation. “Tell your father it’s not safe to go. Please. Tell him the raid should be cancelled.”
“I can’t do that,” said Brandr with a slow shake of his head. “Not unless you’ve actually had a warning from the gods themselves.”
“I’ve had a vision,” she explained. “I don’t believe I’ve actually communicated with the gods, but my visions have often come true.”
Brandr perused her for a second with curiosity, but she still saw the excitement glowing in his eyes at the anticipation of his first raid. She thought he was going to berate her, but instead he encouraged her to use her special skills. “Your grandmother often talked to the gods and got the answers we needed to protect us on our raids. You can do it, too,” he assured her. “You should come with us.”
Kadlin didn’t think she could do it, nor did she really want to. She reached down to the small canvas bag tied to her waist, feeling for the bone runes inscribed with letters and symbols that her grandmother had used to decipher the messages of the gods. She’d given the runes to Kadlin on her deathbed, and told her that she was the next seer of the village and to be proud of her gift.
Still, Kadlin never liked having this gift. If she didn’t give the jarl and the warriors what they wanted, she could be banned as an outcast. She’d be shunned from the clan and sent away from the village to live a lonely life by herself on a desolate island somewhere. This was a very precarious position to be in. Especially if she wanted to marry the jarl’s son. She could not deny the jarl his wish. Still, she didn’t want to go.
“Kadlin,” came the jarl’s voice from behind her and she turned to see Brandr’s father, Gunnar, approaching. His brother by marriage, Skuti, was at his side. Skuti was Brandr’s greedy, eccentric uncle who only thought about himself. “I want you with us to read the runes and talk to the gods to give us the upper hand and keep us protected during the raid,” the jarl told her.
“I . . . I . . .” She was trying to guard her words, but didn’t know how to say it. “Please don’t ask me to do that.” She grabbed for the pouch of runes, gripping it like a lifeline. She was considered as naught but a witch by some of the clan, including Brandr’s uncle. She wished now her father had never told the jarl about her newfound gift of inner sight. She didn’t know if she truly could contact the gods someday like her grandmother had been able to do, but neither did she really want to. All she wanted was to be married and raise a family and farm the land. She didn’t want to be responsible for the welfare of an entire Viking village.
“Thor and Odin will watch over us, as well as the goddess Freyja,” the jarl told her. “All you need to do is tell us what they say.”
“That’s right,” agreed Brandr. “We know our death is already planned since the day we’re born, so there is no need to fear anything. We’ll either end up in Valhalla with Odin or in Folkvangr with the goddess Freyja.”
“Only if you die as a warrior in battle,” sneered Skuti. “We all know those who die a less than heroic death end up in Helgafjell.”
Kadlin had heard the stories of Helgafjell. It was where those went who died of old age or an illness. All Viking warriors wanted their deaths to be heroic so they could end up in one of the halls of Asgard – the home of the gods – when they left this world and went on to live in the afterlife.
“Kadlin is right,” Brandr agreed, surprising her. “It will be too dangerous for her, Father. I am going to marry Kadlin when we return. Let her talk to the gods before we leave and stay here in the village, instead.”
“Our fates are planned when we’re born, just like you said, Son. So what are you afraid of? If she’s meant to die – or if any of us are, we’ll not be able to stop it. Now, she will come with us to help guide us right to our mark or there is no use for her in this village. If we get blown off course and lost at sea, we’ll be happy she’s along to talk to the gods and get us back on course.”
Not having any other choice but
to go with them, Kadlin kissed her mother and siblings goodbye. She saw her father, Oliver, watching from the ship, but her mind was too muddled to tell if he was proud, scared, or happy she was going. Her mother handed her a bag with some of her things, and though her face showed no signs of worry, she saw the wetness in her mother’s eyes.
“Take care of her, Brandr,” her mother called out to them as they hurried to the longboat.
“I will watch over her and bring her home alive. I promise,” he said, giving his word once again, that only sent an icy chill through Kadlin’s body.
The ships were loaded and they left shore quickly, before Kadlin could ponder the situation further. The long wooden benches of the boat were filled with Vikings, and their supplies were pushed to the center of the shallow draft, clinker built vessel, as well as to the sides, leaving room for the oarsmen. These ships were built for raiding, and they only had a few. Kadlin knew the odds were already stacked against them, but there was nothing she could do to stop the jarl from going after his preconceived treasure.
They were blown off course twice on the journey and Kadlin had used her inner sight to tell them in which direction to go. They thought she had talked to the gods, but she wasn’t sure she had. She just heard voices in her head telling her things. She didn’t know if it was her own thoughts or perhaps she had been hearing the voices of Odin, Freyja, and Thor after all.
As they got closer and closer to the shores of Northumbria, the feeling of doom intensified within her. She pulled out her runes, shaking them and sprawling them onto the floor of the boat, hoping to clear her head of her worry and get a positive answer. They’d been at sea for a good day and night now, but she was sure they’d see shore at any moment. She looked to her runes one last time to try to assure herself that she and Brandr would indeed come back alive and be able to be married after all.
She didn’t like what she saw. Most of the runes were reversed. An upside down letter or symbol always meant trouble and hardships. Unfulfilled results, dire challenges and difficulties awaited them. The results were even worse than her vision from the day before, and all her wishing that the situation would change wouldn’t make it so. She saw much death and destruction and something that she couldn’t really decipher.
Romantic Legends Page 130