She strained her eyes, but couldn’t see any ships on the horizon. She looked around and when nobody was watching, she got to her knees and pulled out the pouch with the runes that she wore hidden beneath her robe. The monks had let her keep it, thinking it was a game of the Norsemen. She’d never told them what they were really used for, because she didn’t want them to know she was a seer. It certainly wouldn’t be accepted well amongst such a religious organization.
She needed to know when the Vikings would arrive so she could start deciding what to do. She spilled out the runes made from polished and etched bone, running her hand over them to read the symbols. She was also able to feel things by just laying her hands atop them. Sure enough, the signs were there. There was trouble on the horizon, and death and destruction, and it was close – very close indeed.
“Odin, Thor, and Freyja, if you haven’t yet abandoned me, tell me what to do,” she said in the Norse language. She closed her eyes and listened, but had never been able to hear the voices of her gods the way her grandmother had. She was about to give up on getting her answer, when she clearly heard the words Forgive Him.
Her heart raced and she was sure it was Odin talking to her, but then she realized the words were in English, not in her native tongue. Her eyes sprang open and there, in front of her, stood Brother Francis with a kind smile on his face.
“What did you say?” she asked so he could understand her.
“I didn’t say anything, child, why do you ask?”
She pushed her runes back into the bag, noticing the monk looking at them intently, but not saying a word. He’d never judged her, nor had he ever tried to push his beliefs of his God on her.
Kadlin was sure she’d now gotten an answer. An answer that she wasn’t sure had come from her gods, nor the monk. Could it have come from the Christian God, she wondered?
“No reason,” she said, getting to her feet, and running a hand over the Forget-me-nots still intertwined in her hair. “No reason at all.”
Chapter Three
Brandr stood at the prow of the longboat looking out over the vast sea. His blood boiled just thinking of how his uncle had deceived him. If it wasn’t dishonorable and punishable by being banned from the village if a Viking murdered a man, he swore he would strangle Skuti with his bare hands for what he’d done.
All these years, he thought Kadlin was dead, and now he found out she could have possibly lived through the attack. He hoped so. If she was still alive, he swore he’d find her and bring her home if it was the last thing he ever did.
“You’re thinking of her, aren’t you?” Kadlin’s seventeen-year-old sister stood behind him with her shield in her hand and her weapons at her waist. He already regretted letting her come along since she’d only been a shieldmaiden for a few years now and had never gone along on a raid.
“Ja, I am.” He stared out at the sea rather than looking at her since she only reminded him of Kadlin. “You should have stayed back at the camp and watched over your younger siblings. This is no place for a woman.”
“I’m not just a woman, I’m a shieldmaiden, and so is my mother. There’s nothing at all you could have done to stop either of us from coming after Kadlin. She’s my sister and if there’s any chance she’s still alive and nothing but a thrall, I want to help fight to save her.”
“There’s no telling what those bastards could have done to her,” growled Dagfinn – or Finn, Brandr’s younger brother by a few years. He walked over to join them at the prow, towering over all of them with his height. He was one of the tallest Vikings in the village, even passing up Brandr. They’d both taken after their father and, some day, their younger brother would follow in their footsteps. “I’ll tear them apart limb from limb and then hang their severed heads from the mast and show them we won’t be treated this way.”
“Your anger is making your face red, Finn,” Brandr told him in a calm voice. Finn was reckless and that would someday get him into trouble. “You’ll only attack by my orders. All of you,” he said, looking at Asa and Signy as well.
He felt angrier than all of them put together, but he couldn’t let everyone run off on a rampage and lose control. He was jarl now, and he needed to keep his head about him and maintain order. Finn had been acting crazy lately, and Brandr already saw the signs becoming clearer and clearer of him turning into a Berserker. He sincerely hoped not since Berserkers were the most ruthless and restless of the Viking warriors and usually ended up getting themselves killed.
Asa, on the other hand, scared him half out of his mind. She was every bit as beautiful as Kadlin, but twice as feisty. He’d seen her train and she was definitely a good warrior, but she was also too careless and carefree. If she didn’t mature quickly, it was going to be her downfall. She had the pride of a male Viking. Women warriors were either feared or rejected by not only their enemies, but the Viking men as well. He hoped neither of those things happened to her. She was too young and unseasoned and needed a man to tame her wild, careless ways.
“Do you both understand?” he asked louder and they hesitated and grumbled but then nodded their heads. “Do you all understand?” he called out to the men rowing, as they neared the shore. “No one attacks until I say so. No one kills or takes thralls unless I give the signal, and no one – I repeat, no one, will lift a finger to hurt any woman on those shores. It might be Kadlin and I will not take the chance that she survived the attack only to be killed by one of her own clan.”
“Look yonder,” said Finn pointing across the water. “I see land and what looks to be a castle on a hill.”
Brandr’s body stiffened and his jaw ticked. “It’s a monastery,” he told his brother. “We’re there. We’ve returned to the same place after all these years.”
Kadlin had been nervously pacing back and forth for the last two days now. The anticipation of confronting the Vikings confused her and ate away at her soul. They were coming. There was no doubt in her mind. She didn’t know if she could endure the pain of what would transpire either way.
She stood in the bell tower, the highest point of the monastery, looking out to the vast sea. It was connected to the cruciform-style church and cloistered walkways below. The monks had built beautiful gardens hidden away behind the high walls, and with it were the scriptorium, the bakehouse, the stable, and several more buildings that made up their home and place of worship and prayer. It was always quiet and calm here. It was a very peaceful setting.
They were happy here and she hated to say that, in a way, so was she. She’d not only learned their language over the past years but she’d also made friends with people who should be her enemies. She’d never seen anything like it. They were so unlike her people. Vikings were loyal to family members or others of their clan, but not to strangers from a different land – and certainly not Christian holy men either.
She fingered the Forget-me-nots she’d slipped into her braid this morning, still not sure why she picked the fresh flowers. She’d done so each day for the last few days now. Why did she even wear them after what Brandr had done to her? She hated him right now, she really did. Or so she thought. Then again, she’d been hearing the voice of someone’s God in her ear for the last two days, telling her to forgive him.
“There you are, child,” said Brother Francis, climbing the stairs to the bell tower with a young boy at his side. She’d seen the boy begging at the gates of the monastery and had even given him food on occasion. “We wondered where you were this morning after Matins.” The monk was talking about their morning prayers.
Kadlin had often sat in the back of the church and listened to the monks and nuns pray and sing to their God. She didn’t understand any of it, but she didn’t judge them either. The monks wore plain, brown, woolen robes and shaved their heads in a tonsure, or a ring of hair with the top of their heads bald. She noticed the young boy had his hair cut this way now and wondered if he were training to be a monk.
The monks had taken in the boy the way they’d taken
her in, too. This was her family now and she’d learned to accept and even like them. But she had another family that she still missed with all her heart.
Thunder boomed overhead and she was sure it was Thor leading the Vikings into battle with his great hammer raised to the sky. They were getting closer. Her breathing labored and she felt her head swarm. Her visions the last two days had been coming faster and faster, and none of them were soothing.
More blood. More death. More destruction. She could barely stand, as her knees became weak remembering the last raid and all the innocent people who had died along with the men of war.
“What is that?” asked the boy, squinting and looking out toward the water. Kadlin’s eyes shot upward and she spied the red and white striped sails of the longboats coming around the cliff.
“Vikings!” shouted the monk, and his eyes opened wide. “Sound the warning bell,” he told the boy. “I’ve got to warn the others.”
“Nei, wait!” Kadlin raised her hand in the air to try to stop him, but it was too late. The boy was already pulling the rope and the large bell swung back and forth, ringing out loudly, calling out a warning to the monks and an alarm to the soldiers to come help them. Things were set in motion and she didn’t know how to stop them. If she didn’t do something, people were going to die. Whether it be Vikings or monks, she didn’t want to lose any of them.
She looked over the wall to see three Viking longboats approaching the shores. The pounding in her head was either her heart or the hammer of Thor crashing down around them. She had to do something to stop this and she had to move fast. She picked up her skirts and ran down the stairs, knowing she was going to need the help of the Norse gods as well as the Christian God if this were going to end well for anyone.
Chapter Four
The first thing Brandr saw when he stepped from the boat and onto the shore was the spot where he’d last seen Kadlin crumpled, bloodied, and dying, calling out for his help. The vision in his head was as clear as if it had happened yesterday. Thunder boomed overhead and the sky became dark, giving him a bad feeling in his bones.
“Men, come get fire to light your torches,” called out his brother, holding up one of the torches they’d brought with them that had burned the entire journey. The warriors gathered around Finn and dipped their torches into the fire, lighting up the darkened sky around them. With the threatening sky above them, it looked as if they’d be drenched in another few minutes.
“Protect the fire and use it to burn down the walls as soon as we get close enough to throw it,” called out Finn.
“Nei. You’ll wait until I give the order,” snapped Brandr.
“Why?” growled his uncle, sidling up next to him with his shield in one hand and his sword in the other. “Afraid the girl is in there? I don’t think monks take captives, so she’s probably not a thrall. I’m guessing if she didn’t die, she’s servicing an army of soldiers on her back somewhere.”
Brandr reached out and punched Skuti in the face, knocking his uncle to the ground. The man jumped up and charged at Brandr, only to be stopped by the massive chest of Finn as he blocked his uncle’s path. Skuti crashed into Finn’s shield and snarled.
“I won’t put up with talk like that about my woman,” Brandr warned him.
“And my sister.” Asa stepped forward with her mother at her side. They were both dressed in padded leather and furs, same as the men. They looked fierce and Brandr only hoped they could hold their own, because he didn’t want the death of two more women he cared about on his conscience as well.
“Head up the hill but stop at the gate,” he called out, raising his hand in the air to give the others the signal.
Finn, being wild as usual and thriving on battle, led the way, running and shouting out a war cry of his own. Skuti, Asa, and the rest of the Vikings followed.
Brandr just stood looking up the hill, first noticing the slight mounds of raised earth that dotted the land between the shore and the monastery. He knew what they were. They were the graves of the rest of the Vikings who had died in the last battle. At least someone had buried them and not let them rot in the elements with crows pecking out their eyes.
“Do you think Kadlin is there . . . or there?” asked Kadlin’s mother, first looking at the mounds as well, and then shifting her gaze up the hill to the wooden fortress. The monastery seemed to be laughing at them as the clanging of the warning bell from the tower echoed in his head.
“Let’s hope wherever she is, she’s forgiven me for leaving her here all alone. Because if she’s still alive and in there, she’s not going to be happy to see me.
The rain poured down drenching the ground, making things more difficult. Kadlin raised the hood of her woolen robe to cover her hair and the small stalks of Forget-me-nots interwoven in her braid. She ran through the courtyard as the monks lowered the iron gate, hoping to keep the Vikings out.
“Ready the defenses and bring boiling water to drop over the walls atop their heads,” cried out Brother Francis. These monks might be holy men, but they’d learned from the soldiers how to protect themselves and their monastery if they had to.
“Nei, don’t do that.” Kadlin grabbed the long sleeve of the monk. “Please, don’t harm any of the Vikings. Let me talk to them and maybe I can change their minds and get them to leave.”
“Kadlin, you know as well as I that they don’t cross the sea for days and then land on our shores without expecting to plunder.”
“Then give them what they want. Give them the silver and gold chalices, whatever coin you have, and all the books and candles as well. I’ll convince them not to harm any of you or to ruin your home.”
“Do you really think you can do that?” The monk looked up to her with sad and desperate eyes. “We are housing the wealth of King Eardwulf as well as some of the nobles here. They thought it was a safe place for their goods to stay protected.”
She bit her lip and looked back up to the boy who was still ringing the bell. The warning had already sounded and she knew it wouldn’t be long before the soldiers came to fight the Vikings. The wheel had been set in motion. Now, only a prayer to Odin, Thor, Freyja, or perhaps the God the monks worshipped would be what could save them. She already heard the Vikings shouting out and banging on the gate.
How could she get their attention without getting herself killed? There was no guarantee that she could do anything to stop this madness, but if she could somehow get a message to their leader – then maybe she could save her new friends’ lives after all.
Chapter Five
Brandr pushed his way to the front of the line and held up his hand, shouting out the order for the Vikings to listen. But trying to stop a Viking with rage in his blood was like trying to stop a herd of wild cattle from stampeding.
The rain washed down around them. The Vikings who held the lit torches used their shields to shelter the flames.
“Can we burn through the walls?” called out one of the Vikings.
“Let us knock down the door,” shouted another.
“Wait!” Brandr held up his hand and walked up to the bars of the portcullis and looked into the monastery’s courtyard. He didn’t see Kadlin anywhere and knew they had only a short time before the soldiers showed up like last time. They needed to get their bounty and get back to the ships before another deadly battle broke out.
“All right, knock down the gate and get the plunder and head back to the ships, but no one is to kill a single monk or burn anything unless you get the word from me.”
“What?” cried out his uncle. “You can’t mean that.”
Brandr took his spear and hurled it through the air, over the walls of the monastery. The first spear thrown was always dedicated to Thor, hoping he would favor them and see them safely through the raid.
“Go!” he shouted. The Vikings picked up their battering ram and forced their way into the monastery’s courtyard. Brandr followed them inside, scoping the area for Kadlin. The men tore through the area, overtur
ning carts, scattering hay, and trampling flowers and plants growing in the monastery’s gardens. They shoved the monks to the ground, making their way into the buildings collecting gold, silver, grain and seeds, and whatever else would benefit their people.
Brandr knew he wouldn’t be able to keep the others from killing for long. Sooner or later one of them was going to get rambunctious.
“Get to the church,” shouted Finn holding his battle axe above his head. The warriors all shouted and stormed the area as they continued to pillage and plunder. There would be much wealth to collect here – things they could use or even trade to get the supplies they needed for their village that would enable them to survive. There would be priceless manuscripts and wine and candles and maybe even wealth and treasures that belonged to some of the nobles living nearby.
“Have you seen Kadlin?” shouted Asa.
A monk near the stairs to the bell tower looked up when he heard Kadlin’s name and ran up the stairs.
“Not yet, but I think there is someone who might be able to tell me where she is.” Brandr ran after the man, dodging other monks who screamed and blessed themselves and ran from the Vikings in all directions. The tension was thick in the air and the bell in the tower continued to ring out in warning. The rain started to subside and he thanked Thor silently in his head.
He took the stairs two at a time as he followed the path the monk had taken. The monk was there, putting his arm around a young boy who finally stopped ringing the damned bell.
“Take me to Kadlin,” he said, knowing they couldn’t understand his language, but still he had to try to communicate. If they knew something about her, he needed to find out. “Do you know if she’s still alive? Is Kadlin here?”
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