Jilliand Page 17

  Arising early one morning, she opened the door to a wonderland of snow covering everything. Jilliand caught her breath. “It is beautiful, Rurik. Come see!” she turned to him. He rolled, yawning, onto his side, smiling at her.

  “You have not seen this before? It must have snowed where you came from,” Rurik teased her.

  “Of course,” she replied, pertly, “but the world looks quite different now.”

  “You know what the snow means, Jilliand,” Rurik commented, watching her face.

  “Cold weather?” Her answer was light, happy.

  “It means it is time for us to leave. Now is when the people we raid are bundled in; no one is ready for a fight. Now is when we can take the most in the quickest time. Our ships are fast. By the time they know we are there, we have already gone. Now is the time for fighting.” As he spoke, he grew excited. He loved the fight, the clash of steel, the victory, the sea, the wind—he loved it all. This was his time.

  Quietly, Jilliand watched him. She knew her love alone would never keep him from the sea and the battle. He was a Viking sea king. “How long will you be gone?” she asked, trying hard not to sound broken.

  He turned to her, dressing quickly, “Not too long the first time. When we next go out, perhaps I’ll take you with me.” He studied her. She was looking at him with sadness in her green eyes, though she smiled.

  “I would go this time, if you asked,” Jilliand replied softly.

  Rurik walked to her, lifted her face, and kissed the lips that he had grown to love. “I know, but you cannot go this time. I will return soon. I will bring you gifts,” he added, his face buried in her hair.

  “I only want you. You are my gift,” she answered, gently turning him toward the door. “Go, I’m sure you have much to do before you leave.” God go with you, my love, Jilliand prayed.

  Two days later, Jilliand stood with the rest of the village at the shore, waving them off. Four warships left that day. Each with sixty men. They were to meet with another fleet of ships, then another, bringing the total number of ships to twelve, with over seven hundred men. The men were anxious to be off. Unlike the armies Jilliand was familiar with, the Viking warriors were all friends and/or relatives. They were bound by honor, kinship, and a deep sense of unity. Each man—agile, strong, and healthy—was built for the task at hand. Jilliand shook her head, a little sadly. The English will have little chance.

  CHAPTER 19

  RURIK HAD ONE DESTINATION IN mind for his warships on this voyage. Once out of sight of his lands, he broke from the convoy and led his ships along the southern English shoreline, though still far enough out to avoid notice. After several days, he directed the ships toward land. Silently, they crept up the river Test, unloaded, and hid the ships. “We seek one particular man for the blood eagle. This is not a raid for bounty.” The order was firm. Ten men were left to watch over the boats; the rest followed Rurik.

  After three days’ travel over land, they came to a run-down burg settling down for night. The lord of the burg once had a plan to fill his coffers. The plan had failed miserably when his daughter went missing. Since that time, he took little interest in his own land or men. His cruelty had driven nearly all the people around his castle away. Times were hard enough without the weight the lord’s anger forced upon them. The land was untended, crops were poor, livestock dying, houses left barely standing, with scarcely any signs of life. It was a dismal time. The boundaries of holdings throughout England were continually shifting as lords fought to take control of larger parcels. This lord had such a pitiful place that it had been overlooked. The few men left with him were careless and lazy, preferring to spend the night with any willing female and refusing to stand guard. There was little left to guard anyway. Surely no one cared to overrun this dilapidated burg.

  On this night, as every night, the gate of the burg was only partially closed. Several of the men left the castle and walked to one of the few squalid houses left outside the wall. There they took turns with the two women inside the brothel. What little the women were paid was just enough to purchase fish and a few other items for their huts that sat on the outermost edge of what had been a settlement around the burg. Their families could ill afford to anger the men who were now lying near the dying fire of the brothel.

  The Vikings struck with speed and precision. Rurik knew what he wanted and that it would be easy prey. Rurik and his men silently slipped around the huts, quickly killing the few men they found close to the main gate. The Vikings were inside the burg before the soldiers within the walls even knew there were Vikings about. The burg was quickly overrun. Rurik’s men swept into the great room in the center of the keep, below the lord’s living quarters. The lord, roused by the noise coming from below his room and fuming over being awoken, strapped on his sword and grabbed his whip.

  As the lord entered, the sound of the heavy wooden doors slamming against the wall stilled the large room. At the sight before him, the lord blanched. His castle was crawling with Vikings. Most of his soldiers were captive, and several were dead. One Viking, obviously the leader, advanced across the room. The lord tried to fend the man off with his whip and then tried to run him through with his sword—but failed at both.

  The Vikings encircled the two men. “This is the man.” Rurik’s voice was filled with authority and resolution. At his announcement, several men moved toward the lord. The lord knew—for the first time in his life—a fear beyond reckoning. He struggled mightily but in vain. His shirt was ripped from him. His screams of agony filled the room as his back was sliced open and his ribs were cut away from his spine and spread wide. His exposed lungs were then removed and left lying on the man’s back. Rurik offered the bloody scene and the lungs he had removed to his god, Odin, thanking him for success in this battle and in those to come. The few men left alive were unable to stand after witnessing the sacrifice. Rurik paid them no mind. He had taken what he came for. He quickly found the lord’s chamber, searched it, called his men together, and left. When the sun shone upon the burg, it revealed a deserted fortress. Every man, woman, and child had fled. The lord remained as the Vikings left him—sprawled facedown in a pool of blood.

  Rurik’s ships were long gone by daylight, joining the larger fleet, and continuing along the coast, taking whatever they wanted. The episode they had witnessed filled the hearts of his men. They were anxious to put their weapons to even greater use. Before he returned to his homeland, Rurik and his men would find and destroy several monasteries, taking anything they could use or trade.

  Snow had come to stay. Strong wind blew giant drifts over the ground, while the cold worked its way into every corner. Bundled, Jilliand trudged to the house of Rurik’s mother. Knocking quietly, Jilliand waited. It was a comfortable place. The main room had a fire pit with several chairs, a loom, and a bench. The chair closest to the fire pit had blankets on one side, as if waiting for company. Two rooms were beyond this area. One room had a long table filled with plants. An oil lamp sat on the table. There were plants hanging upside down to dry and baskets of plants in every space. Inside the smaller second area stood a large bed with an ornately carved headboard, thick sleeping pads and thick blankets, another small table, a lamp, and a chair.

  Olga’s face lit up when she saw Jilliand at her door. “Come in, daughter, come in. Come sit by the fire. We can weave and visit. Things we do well, you and I.” She pulled Jilliand into the warmth of the room.

  For a few moments, they talked of the weather while the old woman finished baking fresh bread. Then Olga grew silent. She watched this small thing her son had seen fit to bring into their fold. The girl was strong in ways not usual for a girl. Still she needed a friend. More than that, she needed a mother. She had much to learn and little time to learn all about being a woman.

  “Tell me what you think, sitting there so still, Jilliand.” Her voice was kind and soft.

  Jilliand just looked at her, trying to find the words.

  “You are with child, are y
ou not?” the woman observed. “It is to be expected. You took a husband. One of the things they do best … make us mothers. Not a bad thing, I think. But difficult. Are you afraid?”

  “How do you know?” Jilliand sat back in the chair, surprise on her face.

  “I know many things, little one. You are with child. That is good. Now, tell me, are you frightened?” she pushed.

  “No … well, perhaps a little. I know not enough to be frightened. But if I am with child, Rurik will not take me with him. I would be with him. I miss him. I miss the sea. Perhaps I am not such a good Viking wife.” She leaned her head back on the chair, staring at the ceiling. “Do you think I carry a son? Who really knows? Does it matter? It must: When we married, he gave me a sword for his son.”

  The old woman chuckled. “Of course. They take a great deal for granted, these men of ours. Jilliand, do you still pray to your god?” Olga watched her carefully.

  Without hesitation, Jilliand answered, “Every day. He is as important to me as yours are to you, except I have one God. He must be all things. I fear I keep Him quite busy,” she smiled ruefully.

  “You must not tell people you pray like that, but do pray.” Olga’s eyes pierced Jilliand’s—not unkindly, but seriously. Then she sighed and moved on. “I have lived a long time and have traveled many places. I, too, traveled with my husband when he left to fight. We were a good team, he and I,” she said as she smiled to herself. Her eyes softened at the sight of the young woman before her. “I have seen things. I believe your god has power, too. I believe he is right for you, though we are not of the same beliefs. Just know I love you like a daughter. I believe your god will take care of you. Now, we must be certain that you stay healthy for that child growing within you. Have you broken your fast this morning?”

  Jilliand tucked Olga’s advice away. It was good to have a mother here on earth. “No, I am not able to eat in the morning. I spend every morning leaning against trees, while my stomach empties onto the ground. Hunger only comes later,” she admitted, laughing a little.

  “Try dried bread. Let it get hard. Eat on it before you arise. It helps.” She pulled a boiling pot sitting near the fire off to the side. “You should come here every day to learn what I know. Someday I will be gone. You have little experience, and you have a great deal to learn, in a short time. We start tomorrow. Today, you and I visit an old friend of mine.” The woman handed Jilliand a bowl of soup. To her surprise, Jilliand enjoyed the meal, and she felt like it would stay down. When they had finished and cleaned the little area, Olga walked to the door. “Come along.” She slipped a cloak off the hook near the door. Peeking out the door, she added another before stepping out. “’Tis good to move about, even in the cold.”

  Jilliand was just learning to use the snowshoes everyone wore. The flat, broad woven paddles allowed them to walk quickly through the heavy snow. The shuffling gait was easier than tramping through, but either way was extremely tiring. Jilliand marveled at her mother-in-law. She must be more than fifty, yet she puts me to shame. I am dying! If I do not hurry, I will be lost behind. Struggling to move faster, she concentrated on each step.

  Jilliand was so busy trying to keep up, she had no idea where they were. When she caught up at one point, she was gulping for air. She gasped, “Is this where we stop? I can only hope!” Looking around, Jilliand could see this settlement was much like Rurik’s, though not quite as large.

  “Yes. We have come to visit the man who knew your mother,” Olga announced. Suddenly Jilliand was alert, looking around for the man. With snowshoes removed, both women moved at an easier pace. She and Jilliand made their way to the largest house of the group. People, out and about, shouted greetings and waved to them. The door opened as Olga raised her hand to knock. An old man stood smiling at the two women. Jilliand recognized the man who had spoken to Rurik at their wedding. “This is Asger, my friend of many years.” Olga introduced him. “And this is Jilliand, wife of Rurik.”

  “You will get limber fast with this one,” Asger said, affectionately smiling at Olga.

  Jilliand was still breathless, but now with anticipation. She could only nod her head in agreement. When both women were inside and seated beside the fire, he served them a warm ale of sorts. Jilliand was afraid she would leave it on his floor if she drank it down. “None for her, she carries my first grandchild,” Olga informed him motioning toward Jilliand fondly. “She still feels the sickness each morning.”

  “Ah, so that’s the way it is. You move carefully, eh?” Asger nodded his head knowingly.

  Jilliand’s smile was weak, at best. “Yes … and slowly too. Mother moves as if she has wings on her feet. I cannot keep up.” Asger laughed, patting Olga’s hand.

  For a while, the two old people talked of common friends. Jilliand waited patiently for the time when she could speak. At last, Asger turned to her, “I am pleased you have come to visit but believe you come with purpose. Is that true?”

  “Yes, it is true,” Jilliand acknowledged. “I understood you knew my mother. How could that be?”

  “I know who you are because you look just like your mother. She was taken during a raid on English soil. We landed two days after her ship had landed. We had been following them, but I do not believe they ever saw us until we attacked. When we took your mother, I thought I would later be paid a great ransom. But, instead, one of her soldiers came forward and traded all the group’s arms, horses, and supplies for her. I took what he offered, and he took the woman. I heard, but do not know if it is true, that they were overtaken by another lord. Would have been easy enough, since they were unarmed. I also heard your mother married that lord, in exchange for the freedom of the few soldiers left. It is said her father was a brother to the king of Northumbria.” His voice softened, “So you now know, you are of royal blood. A fitting queen for Rurik.” He patted her hand, kindly.

  This was the same story provided by Myla and Silas in her father’s burg. Listening to the Viking gave Jilliand a little more information about her mother; she clung to every bit she learned, especially now. “I wish I could return the kindness you have shown me.” The old Viking smiled. He only wanted to die fighting. To go to Valhalla, to feast with other Viking heroes, until Ragnarök, the final battle of his gods. The Englishwoman would not understand.

  When their visit was finished, Jilliand and Olga took another route. This short trail led directly to Olga’s house. Olga grinned, just like Rurik. “This path is convenient for two old friends to see each other. Nights can be very dark and long here. But they need not be cold and lonely.”

  Jilliand kissed Olga gently. “Be careful, now that you are a grandmother. We share a child, you and I. Your grandchild will have need of one such as you. Still, live your life well; you have earned that right.”

  Lying in her bed alone that night, Jilliand thought of the differences between Rurik and herself. Jilliand’s God was kind, just, and forever. Rurik’s gods were fighters, tricksters, and were all waiting for some final battle of the worlds. It was little wonder the Vikings were so fierce. She wondered how the English ever won a battle with these Viking men. As always, Jilliand’s thoughts turned to Rurik. She remembered how Myla and Silas had been with each other. The family she stayed with near the river had love and respect for each other. I believe these are feelings that many couples must share. How does a woman who is in a marriage for other reasons grow to love the man she must live with? Did my mother ever love my father? Sighing, she turned over and let her mind bring Rurik to her once more. Come home soon, Rurik. I grow lonely here.

  Rurik would come home. Jilliand felt his coming. Late one afternoon, she hurried to Olga’s house. “He comes, I feel it. I cannot explain, but he comes.” The old woman smiled, bobbing her head with understanding.

  “Here, take this. It is a good thing to drink, warmed, on a cold night. He will be hungry, too. And surprised to see you. You have grown.” Olga smiled and handed Jilliand a crock of stew and a jug of honey mead.

&nbs
p; “I cannot think of Rurik being gone again. Rurik intends to take Asger along the next time he leaves. Will it make you sad to see him go?” Jilliand asked. Olga stood looking into the flames dancing in her pit. “No. I will be proud for him. I will be lonely, but soon I go too, child. It would be better if he goes before me.”

  Impulsively, Jilliand hugged the old woman. “You have been very kind to me. I have learned much from you. How can I repay you?”

  “You already have,” Olga softly replied, placing her hand on Jilliand’s small but growing belly.

  Returning to the house she shared with Rurik, Jilliand made certain there was enough wood, put a kettle over the fire to heat the mead Olga had sent, placed the stew pot close to the fire, and baked fresh bread. She set a large tub further to the back, and then put several round rocks near the fire. As a final touch, she brought in four large jugs of water to warm near the fire. Bundled in a soft blanket, she sat in her chair, watching the door.

  When the door opened, she sat still, waiting to see his face in the light from the fire. Then, slowly, she stood. Her heart pounded, her eyes misted over, and she could hardly breathe, such was her joy in seeing him again. The door closed quietly, and then he stepped into the light. He dropped his weapons where he stood. The distance between them was breached in two steps, as he swept her off her feet, holding her in his arms, kissing her hair, her face, her neck, and her face again.

  Jilliand felt desire rise in her, as she felt his breath hot on her skin. “I am no longer complete if you are not with me, Rurik.” Her voice was husky with emotion.

  He carried her to the chair and sat with her in his lap. Looking at her face and running his hands through her hair, he gently followed the curve of her jaw with his finger; then the line of her lips, and the hollow at her neck. He bent to kiss her again, tenderly. Soft lips caressed hers. With his eyes locked on her, he moved his hand, slowly, gently down. When he felt her breast, his brow shot up. He moved to the other one. Jilliand smiled up at him, “They match, husband.”