Ransacker

by Emmy Laybourne

  “And you, sir,” she addressed the Baron. “You believe this is the will of the Gods?”

  “Yes!” the Baron said. “With my whole heart I believe it is meant to be.”

  Hanne composed her face to look like she was considering these arguments. What she thought of was how to get away and how to warn her family.

  “Then I owe it to my siblings to bring them this information,” she said. “My brother, Stieg, he especially would want to know. Let me go. I will convince them to meet with you.”

  Hanne avoided looking at the Baron’s face. She tried to keep her face solemn and neutral. She was not a good liar; she knew this.

  When Hanne brought her eyes up, she found the Baron looking at her with a disappointed, sad half smile on his face.

  “No,” he said. He sighed. “You don’t believe me, and so … I can’t let you go. Pastor Jensen, bring the jacket.”

  “Wait,” Hanne said. She began to struggle. Harald’s arms clamped down hard.

  The minister came forward with a leather garment that was scarcely recognizable as a jacket at all. It had two long, long sleeves that tapered to points and ended with a buckle, and it didn’t seem to open in the front but in the back.

  “This won’t be easy, lads,” the Baron said. “Do your best,” and then the Nytteson converged upon her.

  Hanne lashed out. She writhed, trying to bite, but there were too many hands on her. She kicked, got one in the head. Elbowed another in the eye.

  The men cursed but they swarmed her, and Hanne found her arms shoved into the sleeves. The sleeves were then strapped across her chest, and she was flipped onto her front, facedown in the pine needles. They buckled the sleeves around her back.

  She kicked and screamed, and one of them forced a gag into her mouth and fastened it around her head.

  The Berserker raged but could not free herself.

  CHAPTER FIFTY

  Stieg was right, it was Rolf’s handwriting.

  The wording sounded like him, too. A bit formal, perhaps, but Sissel was certain Rolf was the author.

  Nevertheless, there was something wrong. Sissel wished she had Rolf’s other letters on hand, but they were back in Carter, at the hotel, along with all their belongings.

  Sissel stood and brought the letter to the window. She looked out at the fat clouds drifting past in the sky and let her mind drift like the clouds. Their shadows floated across the empty pasturelands of the Double B Ranch.

  Hanne and Owen and Knut would all be happy here, but Sissel was worried about Stieg. He wanted to trust the Baron because he wanted so badly to study at Gamlehaugen with Rolf.

  She couldn’t let that happen.

  If only she could find proof of the Baron’s true nature …

  She studied the letter again. Rolf’s hand had been shaky when he’d penned it. Possibly a sign of duress. Several pen strokes had been too light—Rolf had had to go over them twice.

  Sissel peered more closely at the paper. I have made the decision to unburden my soul to the Baron, for I have come to believe that he truly has your best interests at heart … There, on the second I in the sentence—it was darker than the rest of the letters.

  She scanned the page, looking for other anomalies.

  The W from Wolf Creek had clearly been gone over twice. Were the letters significant? Was he spelling out a message? There were only four darkened letters, and they spelled I-W-T-X. There was no significant word with those letters in English or Norwegian. She tried to think of the old Norse words he’d taught them, but she couldn’t remember anything with those letters.

  Sissel observed that not the entire T had been gone over, only the right arm and the stem.

  When she peered at the I more closely, she saw it had two small marks at the bottom, as if the tall, straight letter had two feet coming down.

  A chill ran down the back of her neck.

  “Runes,” she breathed aloud.

  They were runes on the letter. Rolf had sent them a message!

  The W was Ehwaz, but upside down. Right side up, she knew it was the symbol of a horse, and meant transportation and also communication, trust. Inverted this way, it was a perversion of what the rune stood for—so it conveyed an impasse, lies, betrayal.

  Sissel found she was pacing.

  The I was not an I, but an inverted Algiz—hidden danger, warning.

  The half T was really Laguz facing the wrong way—perversity, madness.

  When she studied the X, she did not immediately recognize the figure.

  Sissel racked her memory. She cast her mind back to long winter afternoons by the fire that she and her siblings had spent with Rolf, learning the runes and all their different meanings. She remembered his patience, and how he’d drawn them for her on the hearth, his fingertip cutting a path in the dust from the charcoal.

  Was it Nauthiz? Need or distress?

  No.

  She realized what it was, and she rushed for the door. It was Gebo.

  Gift. Marriage. Wife.

  “Stieg!” Sissel shouted. She went racing down the stairs just as Owen came rushing out of the back hallway. He held Daisy in his arms and Sissel saw one of the dog’s legs had been bandaged.

  “Have you seen Hanne?” he asked.

  “No,” Sissel said. “But I need to speak to all of you right away!”

  “Hanne!” Owen shouted up the stairs. His voice was tinged with desperation. “Are you up there?”

  Stieg came from the study.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Hanne’s missing,” Owen said. He went out onto the front porch. “Hanne!”

  Sissel clutched at Stieg’s arm. “Stieg, there are runes in the letter. Rolf was communicating with us.”

  “What?” Stieg said. Sissel showed him the Algiz. It was the easiest to identify.

  Knut and Lucy came out from the back hallway.

  “What’s going on?” Lucy said.

  “Algiz. Inverted…,” Stieg said. He dropped his arm. “We’re in danger. Terrible danger.”

  Owen slipped inside, backward. He shut the door. His face was grim.

  “Pinkertons riding up out front,” Owen said. “A lot of them.”

  * * *

  DAISY WOULDN’T STOP BARKING.

  “Daisy, enough!” Owen said.

  The dog fell back to pacing. Sissel saw she was still limping, favoring her bandaged paw.

  Ten Pinkertons on horseback were approaching the house, each carrying a rifle, but that wasn’t the big concern–they had three of the vile Gatling guns at the rear of the procession. Each was mounted on a special cart, with a driver at the front and drawn by two horses.

  Last came the Baron’s rented carriages.

  “Where’s Hanne?” Owen said. “Who saw her last?”

  They were gathered around the windows in the front parlor, looking through the gaps between the heavy drapes.

  “She was out in the garden, weeding the garden,” Lucy said.

  “They must have her,” Stieg said. Owen looked to him. “I think they tricked her with Daisy. Otherwise, she’d be here. She’d feel the threat.”

  “Oh God, if they hurt her—” Owen said. Sissel noticed he was holding his rifle so tightly his knuckles were white.

  “We will have to fight to get her back,” Stieg said. He drew away from the window to look from Sissel to Owen. Stieg looked pale and afraid. “How many guns do we have?”

  “Plenty,” Lucy said. “They’re stored in the attic. Knut, would you help me get them down?”

  Lucy took Knut by the arm and led him away.

  “Lucy, would you take Daisy?” Owen said. “Lock her in the pantry until it’s over.”

  “Come, girl,” Lucy said.

  Daisy gave Owen a look Sissel would have swore said, Don’t make me leave you.

  “Go!” Owen commanded, and she slunk off, limping, behind Lucy and Knut.

  The sound of horses nearing grew closer. Sissel looked out the window. Two of the wagon
s with the Gatling guns had broken out of the procession and were circling around to flank the house.

  The rest of the group stopped about a hundred yards away.

  “They’re surrounding us,” Sissel said.

  “Can you control those guns?” Stieg said.

  “Only when they’re firing,” Sissel said. “The bullet casings are brass and I can move them. But I can’t push the gunmetal or the steel.”

  A knock on the door made Stieg, Owen, and Sissel all jump.

  They looked to one another—then turned to the door.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

  They opened the door to find Björn there. He was trying to look calm, but perspiration had made his hair wet at the temples. He held his hands clasped together. Sissel suspected it was because they were shaking.

  Owen surged forward and grabbed Björn by the front of the shirt.

  “Give her back!” he shouted, then cursed the Baron and Björn and all the Nytteson.

  “What can the Baron mean by this?” Stieg demanded.

  “He wants to t-talk, that’s all!” Björn stammered. “Please! He’s a good man!”

  Sissel pushed through the men.

  “I know what he wants,” Sissel said. “I’ll go talk to him.”

  “What?” Stieg cried. “No!”

  But Sissel was already past them all, striding off the porch and toward the Baron’s retinue.

  “Sissel!” shouted Stieg.

  “I know what he wants,” Sissel shouted back. “Stay there and stay safe. I will get Hanne.”

  Sissel heard Björn promise to return her to them safely and then hurry after her. She did not turn to give her brother a last look, but set her eyes on the Baron across the field and marched to him.

  Sissel drew in a big breath of fresh air. Her skirts brushed the grasses as she walked. She felt strangely peaceful, for she knew she was doing the right thing. She would save the lives of her sister and her brothers, and Owen and Lucy as well. It was so easy, actually, now that she knew why he was here.

  She walked past the Gatling gun they had aimed at the front of the house, and past the Pinkertons, who felt called by decency to tip their hats to her, as if they hadn’t come there to possibly slaughter her and her siblings. Björn trailed behind her, almost scurrying to match her confident stride.

  The two grand carriages stood next to each other, and the Baron and his men waited in a space made between them.

  The Baron plastered a smile onto his face as she approached.

  “I cannot tell you how glad I am to see you!”

  “Where is Hanne?”

  The Baron gestured to the black carriage.

  “She’s safe inside. I am truly ashamed of how drastic these measures are, but I will stop at nothing to help mother Norway. I must ask you, beg you, to come with me to Gamlehaugen as my guest to see Rolf and to learn of what we are trying to accomplish.”

  Sissel studied him as he lied to her.

  “I ask only that you give me one month!” he said, smiling. “One month of your time. I will show you the splendors of my estate there, and you will attend classes that will help you hone your gift. Rolf will teach you himself! Imagine his joy at being reunited with you—”

  “I know what you want,” Sissel said. “I know why you are here.”

  “I have told you why we are here,” he said.

  “No,” Sissel said. “You have said many things. Some of them are true. Some are lies. I can’t tell them apart, but I know what it is you really want.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “You want a Nyttesdotter bride.”

  The Baron’s eyes widened. For a moment, the composure slid off his face and she saw him startled. Startled by the truth of it.

  “You came here to try to get me or my sister to marry you. You want a Nyttesdotter bride. You carry the Nytte in your blood, but you don’t have a gift yourself. And that’s what you want most of all—Nytteson children.”

  The Baron sputtered. He cast a quick glance at his men. Sissel saw shock flash over Björn’s face as he gauged the Baron’s reaction. Björn hadn’t known.

  “Is it true?” Björn asked. “Do you have the Nytte in your family, sir?”

  “Yes. Yes … Come,” Fjelstad said to Sissel. “Let’s go for a walk.”

  “No,” Sissel said. “There’s no need. Set my sister free, leave my siblings alone forever, and I will marry you.”

  Sissel watched his face as he studied her in return. The Baron was in his late thirties by her estimate. She noticed as his eyes flicked over her youthful figure. She swallowed, trying to quell the disgust she felt.

  “You will?” Fjelstad said.

  “Sir, with all due respect,” Björn said. He was clearly uncomfortable. “She’s only sixteen.”

  “Of my own free will,” Sissel said, keeping her eyes locked with the Baron’s. He smiled.

  “Why … Miss Hemstad! Sissel! You have no idea what it will mean for the people of Norway—”

  Sissel held up her hand to stop him.

  “My only care is the safety of my family,” she said.

  “I would need you to demonstrate your Nytte to the people, from time to time,” Fjelstad said, bargaining now plainly.

  Sissel nodded her head. “As long as my family is safe.”

  “And of course, if anything happens to me, like, say, a knife in the eye, or a knife in the throat, or a knife in back, the Pinkertons will come back in force. But, assuming that you and I get along well, I will leave your brothers and sister here, in this valley, in peace forever. They may come visit us, as they please. Stieg would love the library!”

  Björn stepped up to the Baron. He kept his voice low, but Sissel could hear anger in it.

  “Baron Fjelstad, I must beg you to reconsider. We need all the Hemstads with us if we are to defeat the king—”

  “But, Björn, think about it. We may not need force, not when we have a queen such as Sissel to offer the people. And the Nytteson heirs to the throne.”

  Sissel looked at the other Nytteson. They seemed unsettled with the change in plans. Harald’s brows were knit.

  “We need them all, sir,” Björn said.

  “And what better way to get them to come to our side than to join together with their family marriage?” the Baron said. “They will come visit Sissel. They will see what we are planning, the righteousness of our claim. They will be convinced.”

  “Yes,” Sissel said. “My brother Stieg wants to come to Gamlehaugen and study with Rolf.”

  “He can come with us!” Fjelstad said.

  “But right now, you must tell the Pinkertons to stand down,” Sissel said. “Release my sister, and I will take her to the house and tell my brothers the news.”

  “See how smart my bride is!” the Baron crowed. “A natural peacemaker. But … I cannot let you go back with your sister to the house. She will be too protective. She will attack. You know it’s true.

  “No, you and I will depart, and once we are on the train to Chicago, then I will have the men let her go.”

  “I won’t go with you until I see her freed,” Sissel said.

  The minister stepped up to the Baron and whispered something in his ear.

  The Baron smiled. “Say, that’s a good idea. Pastor Jensen says he can marry us right now, right here.”

  Sissel was surprised but she saw the logic in it—if they were truly married, then her siblings would be forced to accept it, and the Baron would have to uphold his end of the bargain.

  “Very well,” she said.

  The Baron took Sissel’s hand and clutched it. His hand was sticky and clammy. She looked at her husband-to-be, his thinning blond hair slicked back with pomade. The expression in his keen gray-blue eyes made her think of a hungry dog eyeing a chop.

  A raven landed in the grass a few yards off. Sissel saw it cocking its head at them, studying them with its black, beady eye.

  “Look,” one of the twins said in a voice hushed with aw
e. “Odin, he comes to see the wedding!”

  She turned to face Pastor Jensen, and he began to speak. “Do you, Sven Erikson Fjelstad, take this woman, Sissel, daughter of Amund, now named Hemstad, to be your lawfully wedded wife until death do you part?”

  “I do,” the Baron said.

  “And, Sissel Amundsdotter Hemstad, do you take this man, Sven Erikson Fjelstad, to be your lawfully wedded husband for as long as you both shall live?”

  “I do,” she said, but as brave as she tried to make her voice, it came out only a whisper, filled with dread.

  “Louder, please, so the Gods can hear,” Pastor Jensen said.

  “I do,” Sissel said.

  “Then in the sight of the Old Gods, and in the name of Jesus Christ, I pronounce you man and wife.”

  A cheer went up from the Baron’s Nytteson. Björn was the first to congratulate her. He shook her hand gently, a compassionate expression on his face.

  “Congratulations,” he said. “I believe you will find—”

  One of the twins interrupted, spinning her away. “Sister!” he said, and he kissed her on the cheek.

  “Hurrah!” Harald cried. “We have our queen!”

  “Hail to the queen!” they began to shout. The raven took flight and settled on the seat of the Gatling gun’s cart.

  Sissel turned to the Baron. “Enough,” she said. “Let my sister go and let’s be gone.”

  “You’re right, my dear. Of course.” The Baron turned to Björn and Harald. “You two, bring Hanne out of the carriage. And give her the good news. She’s free to go, and Sissel and I are man and wife.”

  CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

  The air in the carriage was stifling, and Hanne had to inhale slowly, through her nose, because the gag made it difficult to breathe.

  She was sweating heavily in the leather straitjacket. To not be able to use her arms, to be incapacitated and helpless was terrifying. It was only through constant prayer that she had been able to quell waves of rising panic.

  After an indeterminable stretch of time, she felt two men board the carriage. The vehicle listed severely to the side, so she knew one of them was the Oar-Breaker before she even opened her eyes.