Jilliand Read online

  Greida came at Jilliand again. This time, Jilliand was ready and stood her ground, easily dodging the hand raised to slap her. Greida became more enraged. Jilliand realized there would be no good ending. Jilliand would be forced to defend herself, and Jilliand knew she may have to kill Greida. Greida was much larger, but she was clumsy and did not know how to fight. Jilliand turned and pushed her way through the people now beginning to talk among themselves. Jilliand ran to her house. From the sounds outside, the people were coming too. Jilliand quickly left without looking back, carrying only what she had brought with her and the flint Rurik had given her.

  Olga, awakened by the commotion outside, slowly made her way through the throng of people. Jilliand was already gone. “What happens here?” she asked. Silence greeted her, and most refused to look at her.

  Greida stepped up close, sneering, “Jilliand is gone. I have banished her.”

  Olga was clearly shocked. “On whose authority do you do this?”

  Greida refused to answer. She only turned away, ignoring Olga. “Now, our people can return to the way we were.”

  “The way you were?” Olga pointedly asked. No one answered. Stay safe child. Rurik comes home soon, Olga thought. She looked around once more, to be certain her young friend was indeed gone. Olga knew she was in no shape to look for Jilliand, but Rurik was. He will come home and find you, Jilliand.

  Taking now familiar trails, Jilliand headed deep into the forest. The afternoon temperature was dropping, but her cloak and the walk kept her warm. She kept moving. When the trail became unfamiliar, she was forced to walk more slowly, but she could not stop. Only movement would keep the cold at bay.

  When the sun’s rays broke through the darkness the next day, Jilliand was farther from Rurik’s village than she had ever been. With daylight filtering through the treetops, Jilliand could see she would need to change direction to reach the shoreline. From there, she would swim out to an island just beyond the shore. She had planned to leave Rurik, anyway. Greida’s confrontation made it all easier. From the children, she had learned that ships frequently sailed along the island’s far shore, and the Vikings never, never went to the island. The chunk of land looked to be large, was certain to have game, and was not a place either Rurik or Greida would look to. It was said to be where one of the Viking gods, Frey, instructed his emissary, Skirnir, to hide magic apples—apples that kept the gods young. I could use a magic apple or two, Jilliand noted. It will be a safe place to stay alone until I can board a ship.

  In a short while, Jilliand had reached the water’s edge. Undressing hurriedly and bundling her clothes tightly, she ran into the sea. She was not prepared for the cold that sucked the breath from her. It would be impossible to swim; she was barely able to move. She turned around. Back on shore, dressed, and wrapped in the cloak, she shook uncontrollably. Never had she felt such cold. “I must find another place to go,” she sputtered through chattering teeth. “No wonder their gods hide things out there.” Jilliand trotted along the shore, trying to warm up. I must do better than this. After several hours, she was forced to veer further inland, to escape the cold wind now coming off the water.

  It was mid-afternoon when she first saw the smoke. Somewhere to the north a settlement was burning. There would be people banded together if anyone survived. Perhaps she could travel with them. But … who would burn a Viking village? Late in the afternoon, she came upon a small group comprised of a few frightened women and many children, at a loss as to where to go. Everyone crowded around Jilliand, talking at once. They needed someone to help them; Jilliand was the only one around.

  Some of the women and most of the older children wanted to return to their village. They hoped there were survivors. Others believed they were being followed. If they were being tracked, it would only be a matter of time. Others in the band insisted on retracing their steps, although none carried weapons. There had not been time. The men of the village had run to fight while the women had hustled the children away from the violence. “There is great danger in going back without weapons and in the gathering darkness,” Jilliand warned. “Even with daylight, your travel will be slow because of the children.”

  An uneasy silence fell over them, and then the arguments began. Eventually, Jilliand’s attempts to at least have the very youngest stay behind won out. It was agreed the older boys and Jilliand would return to look for survivors. The women and remaining children would stay in the glen, hidden among the evergreen trees and low growing brush still clinging to the last of its leaves. Everyone helped build makeshift lean-to shelters of fallen tree branches and brush.

  With first light, Jilliand and the older boys began walking. The boys were already well trained. Like spirits, they slid silently through the thick forest. When the sun filled the valley with light, Jilliand looked on what remained of a community not unlike the settlement Rurik ruled. They climbed over burned remnants of homes and pens. Bodies were everywhere. None were left alive, not even the infants. Looking at the carnage before her, Jilliand slowly realized that both sides in this conflict were Vikings.

  “Come, tell me which man is of this place and which is an enemy. I cannot tell. They look the same.” Jilliand looked around for anyone who could speak to the bodies lying around. One young boy stood beside a burned-out shell. The eyes he turned to her were filled with deep sadness. When he spoke, it was with bitterness.

  “They were brothers. Neither was foe, until neither was friend. They are both dead. We are all that’s left. Let us be gone from this place.” He turned back toward his companions. The knowledge that the Vikings did this to their own kind was unsettling. It was not just a horror visited upon the English. Without speaking, Jilliand began to gather any weapons, blankets, and foodstuffs she could find. The boys tried to help. It was a daunting task for these very young men. Before long, night crept around them. The small band of survivors left the remnants of their homes. Each held swords and shields, and what they could find of blankets and cloaks along with several pots packed with food.

  When they made it back to the glen, the tale was told. The women with the troupe simply moved about to make fires and began putting foodstuffs together. After the group had quieted down, one of the boys who looked to be older than the rest approached Jilliand where she sat on a log. After watching Jilliand’s reaction to the battle site, listening to her knowledge of the best weapons to gather, and listening to her speak, he sat beside her and spoke to her. “I am Helgi. We have heard stories about you. You are the woman who fights like a man. Will you help us now?”

  Jilliand glanced at the young man. He was bitter, young, and bent on revenge—a combination she knew well. “What is it you would have me do?” She studied his earnest face, waiting for his answer.

  “I would go to his place. Do to his people what he did to mine. I would kill his sons, enslave his women. Destroy his holdings!” As he spoke, his anger hardened his words.

  “Then you would make innocent children, babies, and mothers suffer as yours have done? Suffer for something they took no part in?” Jilliand stood and pulled the boy up to walk. When the boy did not answer, she added, “I see no justice in what you would do. The one you would punish is dead, along with his brother. Their quarrel brought both places to a bitter end. Think you his place can survive without their men? They will be taken over by someone but not likely someone who loves or cares for them.”

  Another young man had joined them, listening intently. “I am Sloveig, friend of Helgi. I think we should go to them and be the ones to take over. To care for them and bring an end to this,” the second boy stated firmly.

  Surprised, Jilliand studied the speaker. He looked to be more comfortable with everything. He was very sad but not bitter or angry. “What is your place in all this? Are you the son of either man?” Jilliand asked.

  Sloveig shook his head. “I am a brother to both. I lived in both places.” He paused as if thinking. “I think we bring families to us. To be one with us. We can do that
.” He jostled the other boy. “We, you and I, can be the sea kings of both peoples. We can do this. You are my friend, Helgi. I will follow you.” As if the matter were settled, the speaker stood straighter and walked with confidence.

  Helgi frowned and then studied the ground before him. He kept glancing at the speaker. At last, he stopped walking. “Your plan is better. I agree. We can do this.” With that, he grasped the arm of his friend. All three returned to the group, now waiting expectantly.

  Helgi raised his long blade. “I am the one to lead. All stay who are with me. Any who wish to leave, keep moving. I return to the place this began. We will be the ones to end this. We will make our homes there. We will take the peoples of that place to us. Who stays with me?”

  The group stood around looking at one another. None spoke nor moved. “Helgi,” Jilliand stepped up. “Most of the women and the few men who might be waiting for you at the standing settlement are probably slaves. What would you offer them? The very young children are much too small to understand what you ask. But the older ones, they could understand. Speak to them, all of them. Why should they join you? Tell them.”

  Helgi listened intently to Jilliand. He knew what Jilliand told him was true, and he realized what he could offer those sitting near him. Turning, he again spoke out. “All that would come with me will be given freedom this night, to serve, to live, and to fight by my side. Together, we forge a new settlement. Ours. Not to be torn by brother against brother. Who comes with me?”

  This time, all the adults and young men old enough to comprehend even parts of what he said raised their hands, shields, and blades to him. “Helgi, Helgi …” the chant began. Helgi turned back to Jilliand and spoke, his voice strong, “And you, Lady. Who do you stand by?”

  Jilliand felt the eyes of the entire party on her. They could not have known she was but a captive. Worse, she was banished, forced out of the community. She had to think of something. “I would go with you until you reach your place. Then I leave you. I am English. If I stay, I bring danger to you. I stand alone.”

  Helgi nodded. Without further comment, he turned and was soon surrounded by the group. When the grey light of the short day was gone, the band settled. Fires were fed, food was eaten, and shelters made stronger, to shield them from the cold and wind sure to come with darkness. Jilliand paced around and around the perimeter of the encampment during the long night, trying to ignore the gut-wrenching pain in her heart. “Mother, what am I supposed to do now? I am lost, more than these people. I cannot go back. I cannot stay with these children. Can I leave them to their own fates?” She stood with her face turned upward, toward heaven, quietly praying, “God, if I am supposed to help these children, please let me know how.” She heard the crunch of frozen plants being crushed against the icy ground as someone walked toward her. It was Helgi.

  Helgi was beginning to worry about the commitment he had made. He had watched Jilliand pacing. Eventually, he walked in step with her. “This will not be easy, this thing I do,” he ventured. A heavy, wet snow that clung to all it touched began to fall. The large flakes plummeting to the ground were so thick even the campfires were barely visible. The temperature had settled, and the winds died down. Enormous evergreens appeared to open their boughs to the snow, as if they welcomed the cover of the coming winter. Other trees were nearly all bare. They stood out, each a solitary guardian of the thick forested hillside.

  “No, it will not. But if you have support from the families of both places, you can do what you’ve set yourself to do.” Jilliand looked at the dark form of the boy walking with her. He was so young, and while Jilliand realized Helgi had already begun training to fight, he would not have had any training to be a leader. Unless … “Was one of the brothers your father, Helgi?” The air was silent, and for a moment Jilliand thought he had not heard her.

  “Yes.” His answer was sharp and angry. “I loved them both.” He added bitterly, “Now I have nothing.”

  “That is wrong, Helgi,” Jilliand quickly responded. “You have far more than nothing. You have the blood of both men flowing in you, together as one. You must take the best of both and make that knowledge yours.” She waited for some reaction.

  “I can do that,” he replied with quiet resolve. The night was silent around them. Helgi started to walk away but paused. “How does an Englishwoman come to a Viking land?”

  “By losing the fight, Helgi.” Jilliand’s voice was soft. “By losing the fight.” Helgi stood still, watching Jilliand. Then he turned away. With a wave of his hand, he walked back to the fires.

  Jilliand watched him until he moved from her sight. She continued to walk, now moving higher into the forest, where the evergreens grew closer together. Morning found her high above the small band. With no solution to her own dilemma in mind, sorrow in her heart, and the reality of what these children faced weighing her down, Jilliand had not slept. Distant clouds were now gathering in force, to crush what was left of fall. How I have changed. From a thing beaten, to a woman. Is this what women do? Are we sent to help people when we have no answers for our own problems? How can I tell Helgi the one who could help him the most is the one I must leave behind?

  Jilliand never felt the cold of the passing night nor the bite of early morning, so lost was she in her own thoughts. How could she stay? Greida would always be an obstacle, but not the only one. Rurik was a pagan, his gods were not hers, nor would she ever take them. Her time with his people had been ample proof of the two demands Vikings made of those they captured and chose to allow to live. Language and religion. Language she was mastering. Jilliand had taken care to keep out of any discussions of their gods. She could tell more than one of the women living in the communal building still secretly clung to their Christian faith. Although Jilliand now understood how the amulet she wore protected her, she did not believe Rurik would allow her the privilege of clinging to her faith. An impossible obstacle.

  Jilliand’s thoughts again drifted to the group of refugees camped below her. She knew Helgi could become a sea king, but not if someone didn’t teach him. If help did not come, someone else would take over the rule of Helgi’s people.

  CHAPTER 17

  LEAPING FROM THE BOAT TO the shore, Rurik suddenly felt a great burden. Something he could not name pulled at his heart. The women looked down when his eyes met theirs. The children clung together, wide-eyed, and watched. Something was wrong. As he walked toward Jilliand’s house, he knew she had gone. He could feel it. With each step, his pain and anger grew. He found Jilliand’s house cold and empty. She had taken only what she came with and was gone. Now worry seethed within. She dares to leave now? She’ll not leave again! he promised himself.

  Stepping from Jilliand’s house, he was met by Askold’s wife. “You must speak with Greida. She banished Jilliand. There was a confrontation. I think Greida was lucky Jilliand was unarmed. Jilliand left that afternoon.”

  Rurik’s eyes bore into the woman’s. “Not one of you spoke for Jilliand?”

  “No,” she answered softly. “It happened quickly. We know Jilliand belongs to you, Rurik, but you have not made it clear to Greida. She has been set aside. Nor, it would seem, have you made it clear to Jilliand where she stands with you. We would follow where you lead, but you have yet to tell your people how you feel.”

  “To Jilliand, I have not made my intentions clear. Greida knows exactly where she stands with me. She has known well she has no place with me after I found her sharing her bed with Gouldon. Where is Greida? Bring her here.” Rurik’s voice was hard.

  When Greida was found, she was taken to the meeting building. Word spread that all were to attend and witness what would take place.

  Greida was shaking with fear. She had seen that look on Rurik’s face once before, when he caught her with Gouldon. Only then, he was preparing to leave and chose not to act on his anger. There would be no reprieve this time.

  “Who among you can speak to the conflict between Greida and Jilliand?” Rurik stood bef
ore his people, his eyes moving over the crowd. It began slowly, but soon more of the women, slaves, and children came forward. Rurik was taken aback by what he heard. He knew much of what Jilliand had endured was because he had not made her place with him known to all. Greida, however, knew exactly what her own place was.

  “You, Greida, what do you have to say?” He turned to the woman.

  “I belong with you …” she began. Her voice, high pitched with fear, broke.

  “You lie, Greida. When I last saw you, I finished it. You know this well, do you not? I found you in bed with Gouldon. Do you deny this?” Rurik challenged her. Greida only shook her head.

  “Travelers or visitors are to be treated with respect and kindness when they come to us with the cold. You failed to do this. You acted without authority in a way that endangers Jilliand. It could never be your place to banish anyone. It is time I made it clear to all here. You are dead to us. You are no more. You chose your path when you lay with Gouldon. I should have made this decision that night.” Greida began to wail and beg. “Take her from my sight. Finish it tonight. Now.” Several men grasped Greida and dragged her from the building. Silence filled the hall. Never had Rurik been so angry. At first only a few went, but soon nearly all the people left the hall and followed the men dragging Greida. At a small clearing outside the main settlement, Greida was quickly beheaded. The crowd was a silent witness. With the truth out, Greida’s fate was accepted without protest.

  Rurik gathered some of his men. Not one questioned what they knew would be a quest to find Jilliand. Olga came to him as he readied to leave. “You will not hurt Jilliand.” She looked at him directly. Rurik refused to reply. “I ask you for little, but this I ask.” Her voice softened. “She is my friend, Rurik. She has become a part of me. You will not hurt her. Find her, bring her home. She belongs with us.” With eyes that matched his own, she held his gaze. “You know well, our fate is not ours to decide.”