Jilliand Page 15

  The morning offered little light during winter, but it did hold the silence well. That silence was broken by movement far below her. Jilliand heard the approach of the men long before she saw them. She thought of the sleeping bodies below. If it were Rurik, and he were not stopped, it was possible he might take his anger at Jilliand out on the band. She remembered well his order that she never leave. I know Greida will spin the tale against me. Will he listen to me? She began to run down toward the group, weaving in and out of the trees. The steep mountainside with fallen trees covered in snow made progress hazardous. Jilliand fell several times, hurting her ankle when she stumbled over a loose rock. Ignoring the pain, she hobbled toward the clearing and burst into it at the same time Rurik and his men stepped into the little glen.

  They were not expecting the huddled mass of children and smattering of adults that met them. Olav and his jarls spread along the perimeter, routing everyone out. Helgi stood with sword poised, ready to take on any of the men with Rurik. Helgi realized he was no match for them, but still he refused to lower his sword. Jilliand knew she may have lost favor with Rurik, but she had to speak for the people who were now startled and confused.

  Limping to Rurik, she faced him. “Please do not hurt these people,” she begged. He had not yet spoken nor looked at her. She could not hesitate, for fear everyone would be put to death. “Please,” she touched his arm.

  “I think you would worry that I will hurt you,” he responded coldly, his voice tight. Still not looking at her, he watched as his men rounded up the refugees.

  “I can do nothing about that, but I can ask for mercy for these people and children. They did not help me; I came upon them. The place where they lived was burned by your people.” Jilliand spoke calmly and forcefully.

  Caught by her words, Rurik scowled at her. What else happened while I was away? He knew it should not be possible, but he also knew the woman pleading with him would never lie.

  Jilliand continued, “Not the people from where you live, but your people—men from this place.” She waved her hand indicating the land they both stood upon. “You should be well pleased, because the women were working away from the houses when they were attacked. Their first thought was for the children of their masters. They saved many of the young people sent to them when the alarm first went out. Yes, I do ask for mercy for them and the children of the people killed by their own kind. They have agreed to follow Helgi, the son of one man. He will need support, Rurik. He would bring both families together.” Jilliand’s eyes searched Rurik’s face. “Please, he will need help to become a Viking leader. You can help him better than any man.”

  Rurik turned to Dir and Askold. “Take them all back. The smaller children should stay with the people who cared for them, at least now. The older males will stay in our house. The younger women will stay …”

  At this moment, Helgi stepped up and spoke out, “We have done no wrong. Let us return to the houses that still stand. Let us take the place of the men that led both sides to death, brother against brother. I will unite them. I can do this thing.” His confidence and sheer determination moved Rurik. He stood a long moment, regarding the young man before him.

  “Dir, you and Askold go with them. Take them all. If it is as he says, begin their training. They must set aside the anger held by both places. Take our men with you. I’ll see you in the morn.” With that order, he grasped Jilliand’s wrist and stalked away. Jilliand could barely keep up with him. Her ankle, swollen and stiff, could not bear her weight, and she staggered. He stopped abruptly and stood still. Neither spoke, until the glen was empty.

  “Why did you leave? You gave your word,” he said as he pulled her around to face him. His voice was stern, cold, and angry. In truth, he was sorely angry with himself. He had let Greida get out of hand.

  Jilliand frowned, rubbed her hands together, looked down at the ground, and finally looked at him. He waited in silence. In vain she tried to think what she could say that would not offend him. She could not return and live with Greida’s hatred. “I was banished by your woman. I cannot go back.” Softly, gently, she added, “There is more. I must not return because I am falling in love with you, Rurik. That cannot be.” She hesitated. “I am a Christian. You are a …”

  “I am a pagan. That is your word for me, is it not?” he finished her sentence sarcastically. He walked away from her slowly. Jilliand watched him, trying to think what she could say. At last, he returned to lean against a tree near her, his arms crossed, watching her closely. She had spoken of her feelings for him so softly; he wanted to hold her, yet his anger was still not cooled. Mostly, he knew, because of himself. He never would have believed he could love a Christian.

  “I do not know what a pagan is,” she admitted quietly, looking beyond the glen, a somber shadow over her eyes.

  “So you would run to not love a pagan?” he continued, ignoring her comment, still watching her.

  “No, I chose not to spend my life with one who could not love me, so I left,” she finally responded, turning to him. “I know all I care to know about such an arrangement.”

  He stood looking at her for a long moment, studying her. “You have much to learn,” he observed at length.

  “About what?” Jilliand retorted, defensively. How could he begin to know what was in her heart?

  “This country,” he looked around them, “the weather,” he looked to the sky, “the language, and … me.” He stood watching her watch him. Walking to her, he held her face with his hand, not harshly, but firmly. “Do not run from me again …”

  Jilliand interrupted him, “I did not run, Rurik. I crept, walked, stumbled, swam, sort of, that was horrible—but I never ran …” her voice trailed off. This is not going well.

  Frowning, releasing her face, he repeated, “You swam?” He looked at her, surprised, as he took her arm. “Where? Why?”

  “Apparently, I was not thinking clearly. These waters are freezing,” she noted humbly. “I thought to swim to the island beyond. To live alone.”

  For a brief time, Rurik was silent, watching her. He had to struggle not to laugh at this independent English lady. Then he continued, “This belongs to you, Jilliand. It is safe for you to wear, now, but you must not speak of it.” With that, he removed his amulet and replaced it with her cross. “From this time forward, you answer to me, no one else.”

  Jilliand gasped. She touched the cross, her eyes filling with tears. “I cannot return, Rurik,” she whispered sadly. “I cannot. Not with Greida. I think she loves you very much. She is one of your people. I will not be party to this mess.”

  “Greida does not live with my people anymore. She never loved me nor belonged to me.” He spoke carefully, watching Jilliand. “She was with Gouldon most recently. You took care of that,” he grinned. He could see the question in Jilliand’s eyes. “She lives no more, Jilliand.” Jilliand’s mouth opened, then shut. She started to speak, but he stopped her. “Greida broke important laws of my people. More than one, in fact. She knew the chance she took, when she started. It’s over.” He watched her digest the information. He could see the question settling in her eyes. “It’s over,” he repeated. “No one will challenge you again. My people are your people.” His voice was softer. Jilliand searched his face, then looked around the glen. By returning her cross, he was allowing her to keep her religion. She looked back at him, nodded, and turned. Without Greida to push her around, life would be much better.

  “Now walk,” he instructed, pointing the way—again fighting the impulse to laugh. Her spirit pleased him, and her admission of her feelings for him pleased him even more. He felt an unexpected lift of his own spirit. His anger was gone.

  Jilliand assumed Rurik, having found her, marched her in front because she was his captive again. In truth, he noted how she favored her left foot and would see why. As she moved ahead, determined to appear confident, she struggled with each step. Pain brought a flush to her face and tears to her eyes.

  “Stop,
” he commanded. Sitting her down on a fallen log, he noticed the tears. “Crying will not make it any better.” With that, he began to gently examine her ankle, by now swollen and purple. He stood up, thinking. “We go on,” he decided, helping her up. “Darkness comes quickly.” Time to see what the English are made of. He walked ahead, setting a much slower pace. If she stays in front, we will wind up lost. Rurik smiled to himself.

  Darkness grew, as they continued their trek. “How beautiful the moon. See the stars?” she blurted. Rurik turned back to watch her stumble, trying to look at the sky while limping along. Smiling, he walked to her, shaking his head.

  “Stars can take you home.” Rurik spoke softly, as he wrapped his cloak around Jilliand. She frowned, looking at the sky, trying to see what he saw. Rurik watched her, now bundled in his cloak, the moon shining on her face. Suddenly, he pulled her to him, pushed the hood off, turned her face up, and kissed her lips. The kiss was long, gentle, and soft.

  Jilliand was breathless as Rurik ended the kiss. “I do not think the stars will bring me home.” Her voice was hushed as she gave in, “I think you will.”

  He gently traced her mouth with his finger. “Does this mean you will love a pagan?”

  “No, it means I do love a pagan,” Jilliand replied, looking at him squarely. She knew the conflict within her heart was over.

  Rurik stood in front of her, pulled the hood up again, and noted softly, “You are learning.”

  They moved along the trail, now walking side by side, his arm around her, helping her hobble along. He continued to point out stars and talk of the weather. He was relaxed and happy. This felt good. For her part, Jilliand had given way to the feelings growing inside her heart. God brought me here; He will see I am safe.

  Rurik made certain he and Jilliand spent time together each day. They walked along the river, throughout the settlement, and along the trails surrounding his home. Rurik spoke of his life and the Viking people; Jilliand listened. Rurik did not treat her like a slave but as an equal. Rurik was gentle, respectful, and kind to her. With him she felt safe, and more, she felt content, and for the first time in her life, she felt what she believed must be love.

  Jilliand’s observations and interactions with the people around her, and the history Rurik shared with her, were so different from the tales about the Vikings she had heard. She knew there were innumerable days like the day she was taken, when people suffered unspeakable abuses, were killed, or taken captive. She came to understand that fighting was a deeply held ideology for all Viking. From the earliest age, every free male child was carefully trained to fight; consequently, every man was a skilled warrior. It was well known that Vikings had no equal on the seas. She loved Rurik, more than she would have thought it possible to love any man.

  One afternoon, as they walked together, Jilliand asked about the young man Helgi and his people. “Does Helgi do well? Has his anger cooled?”

  “Yes, to both. He will be a great sea king. He learns quickly. There were older men in the place he took. They help him. His friend,” Rurik chuckled, “his friend Sloveig is the perfect friend. Always near, helping and keeping Helgi’s head out of the sky.”

  Rurik stopped walking. “Your father. I would know his name, Jilliand. I will not ask again.” He spoke quietly, but with authority.

  Jilliand walked a bit further. “You would have me tell you, you would kill him, and I would bear the guilt for a lifetime. Is that what you would have for me?”

  “How can you feel guilty for something I do? I would end the life of the man that brought you such pain.” He walked up to her, his hands behind his back, watching her.

  “Rurik, if he had not done what he did, I would not be here with you. Because he hated me so, he gave you a gift, sir. I am grateful for you, each day.” She smiled at him. “Are you not grateful to him?”

  “How is it you turn my thoughts so easily?” He studied the English lady beside him and said, “I do not think your father hated you. I believe you must have looked like your mother. I believe he loved her. You took her away from him. He was not man enough to care for you. No matter, he should pay for what he did to you,” Rurik persisted.

  “Oh yes. He should be punished for giving me to one such as you. One I love. How awful of him,” Jilliand added with mock gravity.

  “I see you still will not tell me. I will find out what I need to know. I always do,” he smiled back at her. “Here, this belongs to you.” Into her hand, he placed the soft satchel she had hidden in the hut from where she was taken captive. Jilliand believed it long lost. Just the feel of it brought tears to her eyes.

  “You saved this for me?” Jilliand asked. Impulsively, she threw her arms around his neck. “You cannot know what this means to me. This and the cross are nearly all I have of my mother.”

  He returned the embrace, holding her firmly. “Perhaps, I should just keep you. Like this.”

  Blushing, Jilliand squirmed away. Glancing up at him, she saw his slow smile. “I believe we should get back. You might be missed,” she teased him, as she turned to wander slowly back.

  He walked with her, saying little, just watching her walk. She was busy talking about the plants, the land, and generally babbling. He smiled again as he realized Jilliand was flustered. Good. Soon enough she will come to realize what this is we both feel.

  Days sneaked by. Most of the men were busy constructing a new house and two new ships. When night draped the village with darkness, Jilliand wandered through the new house. She liked the smell of the wood and the changes each day brought as the house came to life. Sometimes she walked around the area to look at the ships. Jilliand loved roaming the village at night. She still felt awed by the fact that she could stroll about, without fear. Jilliand felt safer in this place without Greida.

  Each night, Olga had watched Jilliand as she roamed around the new house and ships. I think I will walk with her. My time may be short; I have much to tell. The sight of Olga hobbling toward her so late at night surprised Jilliand. “You are still awake?” Olga only smiled, but from that night on, she and Jilliand walked together. Olga kept the fiery visions that lately so often disrupted her sleep to herself. Fate will have its way. As the two friends strolled throughout the settlement, Jilliand learned a great deal more about these people she now called her own. Her home.

  The living quarters went up slowly as the wood had to cure. The vessels, however, went together quickly because the ship’s wood was utilized while still green, allowing pliable plats of wood to be bent in the unique shape of the ships. She watched as the Viking sea predators took shape. Any spaces between plats that might allow water to seep into the vessel were plugged with moss and tar. She saw both men and women helping to sew the huge sails. She took notice of the care taken to measure and cut every oar the exact same length, ensuring each oar would enter the water at the same time, thus increasing the speed of the boat. It occurred to her again and again that the idea her countrymen had of the Vikings was so wrong. Clearly, Viking families loved each other and cared for one another.

  Signs of the coming winter were all around. The land had long ago lost its fall colors and donned the more somber dress of the long frigid season on its way. It gave Jilliand reason to worry; she dreaded the cold. So far, even the wet snows melted. Soon, they would stay. Adding to her uneasiness, everyone was helping prepare for the winter except her. No one seemed to notice, but her attempts at weaving, cooking, and sewing were still slow, though improving. Fear of stepping outside what seemed to be the women’s role kept her from hunting. The small children were Jilliand’s salvation. They came for her nearly every day, and together, they learned more and more about each other.

  CHAPTER 18

  RURIK’S HOMESITE WAS A SMALL collection of houses surrounded by cleared land and dotted with sheep and cattle. Pens for horses completed the picture. The forest grew thick around the area. Buildings were close to the shore, where the ships were built. From the gossip with the women, Jilliand knew sim
ilar settlements were scattered along the shoreline of this country. The women told Jilliand that Rurik was well known along the coast. It was clear his decisions affected everyone in this community, as well as others. Major meetings were attended by men from different settlements. The women did not participate in making laws, battle plans, and such, but they kept the communities together. To Jilliand, it appeared the women were well treated and respected.

  The one piece of their culture she never asked about was their religion. In her heart, she felt God would care for these people who looked after their children, each other, and travelers with kindness and fairness. The slaves they captured were treated no worse than those of the English. Viking women were treated as well as the women of England. At times, it was easy to forget how cruel Vikings could be. Jilliand knew only too well how cruel Englishmen could be.

  One afternoon, with winter heavy in the air, Rurik came looking for Jilliand. The children stopped him. “She’s gone again,” one small girl somberly announced, shaking her little head. Rurik turned immediately and headed for Jilliand’s house. His eyes searched the house. Indeed, she was gone. Her cloak and the cloak he gave her were gone too. A search of the settlement proved she was nowhere to be found. Anger boiled inside him, with no thought to reason. Again? Now what?!

  Rurik stormed out. He found the young girl again. “Where, child?” She only offered a shrug, but her little bright blue eyes darted toward a trail leading from the clearing. Rurik found Jilliand quickly. She was kneeling down picking plants. Her cloak was spread out and filled. The cloak Rurik had given her was spread about the ground where she knelt. He could hear her singing softly as she plucked different leaves. Rurik stood watching her for a moment, then walked to a nearby tree, where he sat down, still watching her.