Foretold Read online

  “He pricked her in the woods,” Park explained. “Then he drown later.”

  Lothar groaned, hearing the crowd inhale in unison. He watched Dara spread her fingers peeking towards her father, then close her fingers again. He turned to the king, noting he remained motionless. Lothar turned back to watch the knee-bender pace in front of Park.

  “Did Vaughn know how to swim?”

  “No.”

  Dara slid her hands down her face, clasped them together, sniffed and raised her chin.

  “Abbot, come here,” Malachy said waving his hand.

  “All of you remain where you are,” said Abbot Sean.

  Lothar saw the knee-bender look in his direction, as he gave the warning, and nodded once.

  The Abbot turned and walked to where the king sat, and leaned down.

  Lothar’s chest tightened watching Dara stand facing her father, while the King and knee-bender whispered to each other.

  “Very well, your Majesty.” Sean bowed and walked back to Park.

  “The King previously proclaimed Vaughn’s death an accident because, as you said, he didn’t know how to swim.”

  “Sorry, Abbot Sean, King Malachy.” Park bowed. “The memory of Vaughn’s death came to me when Rowena blamed Dara.”

  “Memories appear at random, Park. Tell the truth, but don’t let your imagination impact others.”

  Park nodded.

  Abbot Sean turned. “Anyone else, Rowena?”

  Clutching the doll to her chest, Rowena shook her head.

  Abbot Sean turned to Dara. “Priestess, do you want to confess or convince us of your innocence?”

  “I am innocent. Some of what Rowena said is true, I did offer her some porridge, the same porridge I ate and even gave to Park and Serle before she arrived.”

  “Is that true?” Sean asked Serle.

  Serle grimaced.

  “Did you eat the porridge?”

  Serle nodded.

  “And did you fall ill afterwards?”

  Serle glanced at Park, then closed his eyes and lowered his head. “No.”

  Rowena stomped forward, shaking the doll towards Dara. “She could have cast a spell upon the porridge when we arrived.”

  Dara covered her nose with the back of her left hand from the dust emanating from the linen, then grabbed Rowena’s wrist with her right hand.

  “Let go of me!” she coughed.

  Dara twisted the doll from of Rowena’s grasp.

  “Give that back,” Rowena shrieked, “it’s Pegeen’s.”

  Ignoring Rowena’s plea, Dara called out. “Does anyone have a knife?”

  “I do.”

  Dara turned at Lothar’s voice. The hood over his head shaded his eyes and hair, but the familiarity of his height and stride as he walked towards her, thrilled and comforted her. She noted he held the handle with the blade against his wrist.

  “I beg you, your majesty,” Rowena cried, “stop her.”

  “Explain your actions, Dara,” Malachy ordered.

  “It’s the doll.”

  “Dara, the doll is her daughter’s, return it to her.”

  “You don’t understand,” Dara pleaded. “Something in the doll killed Pegeen and is making Rowena sick.”

  The king lifted his eyebrow. “What proof do you have?”

  “It’s inside the doll. I need to make a slit in the doll to examine the contents it is stuffed with.”

  Malachy rubbed his chin, then looked to Rowena and Dara. “Very well,” he exhaled. “You there, monk,” Malachy began.

  Dara looked to Lothar as he lifted his head.

  “Do not give her the knife,” the king warned. “You make the small slit into the doll.”

  Dara watched Lothar bow his head, then turn to her.

  “Courage, Valkyrie,” he whispered, caressing her fingers as she placed the doll into his hand. He turned the doll over, placed the knife tip into the doll’s back, slicing the linen near a crease, then pulled out the dagger and set it on the floor, his foot covering the blade.

  “Abbot, please come and hold out your hand,” Dara asked. She noticed Sean rub his hands against his robes, then held out his palms.

  “I hope you know what you’re doing,” Sean whispered.

  “You’ll know when I find it.” Dara pulled back the linen and squeezed the contents onto the abbot’s palms.

  “Smells like lavender,” mentioned Sean.

  “That’s what these larger pieces are.” Dara moved the larger pieces to the side of his palm with her finger.

  “Oh no,” Sean sniffed, “you better hurry.”

  Dara quickly turned to see Sean’s nose twitch. “Lothar, hold your fingers under his nose.”

  Lothar lifted his head. “I don’t understand.”

  “He’s going to sneeze,” Dara covered the Abbot’s hands until Lothar complied. She heard the abbot sigh. “Better?” she asked, biting her lips as she glanced at Lothar’s fingers under Sean’s nose.

  Turning back, Dara sifted through the rest of the contents, her fingers drawing back the larger pieces from the grove lines in Sean’s palm.

  “There they are,” she announced. “Your majesty, Rowena, please come here.” She waited as Malachy rose and escorted Rowena over to them. “See these tiny black seeds," Dara explained, pointed at the line of black dots, “they’re Foxglove.”

  “They’re so tiny, how can you tell what they are?” asked Malachy.

  “The pods are some of the larger pieces.” She moved her finger to the dried flower with pointed ends. “The pollen and spores from the seeds and pods caused Pegeen’s death and Rowena’s sickness now.”

  “I didn’t poison my daughter,” Rowena sobbed.

  “I know you didn’t,” Dara sniffed, as tears welled in her eyes as the memory of the child’s death still clung to her. “The people who made the doll must have added dried flowers when they created it, not knowing that Foxglove is dangerous.”

  “Hand me the doll,” Sean said. Dara noticed Lothar removed his fingers from under Sean’s nose. She placed the doll into the Abbot’s open palms, then watched him walk to the stone fireplace and set it on the cold hearth, slapping his hands against each other.

  “No!” Rowena cried rushing to the fireplace.

  “Rowena stop.” Sean put his arm around the crying woman. “The doll will only kill you; too; it must be destroyed.”

  “But, Pegeen...” she cried into his sleeve.

  Abbot Sean whispered a prayer over her head.

  Rowena sniffed and sat back. “What did you say?”

  “I said a blessing over you.”

  “It’s what she said over Pegeen.” She pointed to Dara.

  “I did bless Pegeen,” Dara said to Malachy and Lothar as she wiped away the falling tears from her cheeks when she squeezed her eyes tight.

  “I... I...” Rowena began. “I didn’t know you were blessing Pegeen, I am sorry.”

  “Do you wish to stop this inquisition now?” Abbot Sean asked Rowena.

  “Yes.” She sniffed.

  “The accusation of the Priestess being a witch has been rescinded. This trial is over,” announced Abbot Sean. Walking over to a burning wall torch, he lifted the handle from the iron holder, and held out. “Rowena, please light the fire.”

  She nodded, touched the flame to the linen doll on the hearth, then handed the torch back to the Abbot.

  The king stepped back towards his chair then turned. “Everyone, return to your duties,” the King commanded to the crowd. “Priestess, you will remain here a moment after everyone has gone,” Malachy said. “You too, Abbot.”

  “Yes, your majesty.” Abbot Sean bowed and walked towards Dara and Lothar. “I need to talk to someone on their way out.”

  Lothar pulled back the hood, as he stood next to Dara. “I’m staying.”

  “VERY WELL,” SEAN SAID as he walked back to the king.

  “Who’s that monk standing with Dara?” the king inquired peering around Sean from hi
s chair.

  “Lothar is no monk, but an acquaintance of your daughter.”

  “After today, I can’t publically claim her as my daughter without the villagers uprising.”

  “She didn’t harm the child.”

  “They will remember and wonder if I interfered with her trial. Rumors spread and perhaps help one of the neighboring kings to gain a foothold here.

  “What do you intend to do with her now?”

  “She must marry immediately.”

  “Your majesty?”

  “A husband would protect her, where I cannot. The public knowledge of her past indiscretions, pose a problem to find a man willing to marry her.”

  “She will not like being ordered to marry.”

  “I didn’t either when I left Dara and her mother to marry Enid; but I did so for the safety of our kingdom.”

  “Now, you want to subject Dara to the same fate.”

  “In time, she will come to appreciate my decision and possibly grow to love the man, like I’ve done with Enid.”

  Sean turned to Lothar and Dara, smiled and turned back to the king. “If you are going to demand her to be married quickly, I’d suggest Lothar as her husband.” Sean stepped back and moved his arm towards the man standing with Dara in the center of the room. “I’ve seen them together and believe they would be a good match in God’s eyes.”

  “I’ll decide if he’s worthy before having my only child marry a man I don’t know about,” Malachy mumbled. He pursed his lips and ground his teeth as he rapidly tapped the rounded edge of chair’s arm with his finger. “Very well,” he stood, then shouted, “You there with Dara, present yourself.” He squared his shoulders noticing the robe was stretched tight across Lothar’s chest, watching the man bend, and grab something from the floor. The King stiffened, remembering the dagger used to slice the doll as Lothar neared, then exhaled as the tall blonde man handed the blade to the Abbot with a slight nod.

  “Where are you from Lothar?” the king asked.

  “North.”

  “Where ... Armagh? Land of the Picts?”

  “Lothar, don’t tell him.” Dara pulled on his robe sleeve.

  Patting Dara’s hand, Lothar gazed into her meadow green eyes, then wiped the tear falling down her cheek. “I’m from a settlement on an inlet off the tip of Scandia.”

  “That’s the land of the Norse.”

  Lothar turned to Malachy and nodded.

  “Guards, seize him!”

  Chapter 28

  “Father, stop.”

  “Dara, he’s a Norseman.”

  “I know.”

  Abbot Sean held his hands up toward the guards. “King Malachy,” Sean interrupted, “call off the guards for a moment.”

  Malachy gazed at Lothar, noting the man remained motionless. He raised his head. “Guards, back to your post.” He groaned, then turned to the Abbot. “Explain your reasoning.”

  “If we join these two in Holy matrimony, the church will see to their conversion into Catholicism,” Sean interceded. “Having them marry under Christian doctrine would change the villagers’ view of them from pagan and barbaric to civilized people.”

  “Making them part of our kingdom. I understand your advice, Abbot.” Malachy nodded, settling back onto the chair.

  “King Malachy,” Lothar interrupted, “Valkyrie here,” he said and turned to Dara, “she nourishes my heart and soul, and if you release me, I would gladly change our two worlds into one. Though first, I must explain how I came here.”

  The king tapped his finger. “Proceed.”

  “I am a trader, like my father the chieftain of our people, and was returning home on my knarr, when a storm last autumn wrecked my ship. The next morning I awoke on the shore, where Dara found me. I know only one other crewman survived and departed on Rolf’s ship three months ago. He will return and he’ll bring others with him.”

  “If you’re a trader, why do you believe he’ll return?”

  “He’s following my brother Ulin’s order, to have me killed. The night of the storm, he stabbed me with a broken oar. He now knows I survived. By now Ulin has the golden cuff that matches this one.” Lothar revealed the cuff from his raised robe sleeve. “Together, they signify the wearer’s right of leadership for our clan; separate they are fought for. Before I left for trading last summer, my father was ill and gave the cuffs to me as I am his first born.”

  “Does your brother follow the family tradition of trading?”

  “No, he raids for profit, that’s why my father kept him close when I left, to keep Ulin from destroying what my father created. Understand, if you kill me, you will be killing a Norseman, and at the very least, blood money will be demanded for repayment. If you release me, I will train your men against the attack that I’m sure will come soon.”

  “If he’s escaped three months ago, how do you know it will be soon?”

  “I know Ulin. Once Ivarr returned they would have begun preparations for returning. With Ivarr’s help they will tell my people that you have killed me and they will exact revenge for my death. We must get ready for their attack.”

  “We? But you’re one of them,” Malachy said.

  “As Sean said, if I was married to Dara in a Christian ceremony, we would be bound together, and also tied to this land. She is my life, and together we would be happy. Know that she would not want for more.

  “How will you protect her and us from your people?”

  “I don’t know when the attack will be. Ivarr vowed to kill me. I know he’ll return.”

  “Why don’t we kill you for him and be done with you?”

  “The attack will happen anyway and I would not be here to train your men and women.”

  “Women?” King Malachy eyes went wide. “You want women to fight?”

  “Yes, those who are able, and don’t have bairns to care for. The more people we have trained on our side, the better chance the village survives.”

  “I cannot allow women to fight.”

  “The women have the same reason to fight, as protection from men. Brunhilda and Boudicca are two of the fiercest warriors I have heard of.”

  “Bah!” Malachy scoffed.

  “You seek peace with your own wife when she is angry with you.”

  “That is a different matter.”

  “No, the same principals apply when women battle. They’re ruthless when they fight and use different methods that make some men cringe.

  “King Malachy,” Abbot Sean interrupted, “Lothar’s correct. I barely escaped the brutality inflicted upon my fellow monks on Iona. The women will need to defend themselves.”

  Malachy waved his hand. “I may not like it, but I’ll approve only if the women volunteer to fight.”

  “Agreed. I’ll begin training them and the men in the ways of Norse combat. But first, I need to fulfill our bargain.” Lothar bowed his head then turned. “Sean, you will perform the wedding for us.”

  “You’re not calling me knee-bender anymore.”

  “There is a time and place where I change my view about a person. I will respect your name and no longer call you knee-bender.”

  “When do you want the service performed?”

  “I still need her father’s permission to marry his daughter,” Lothar confessed.

  “Dara, come forward,” Malachy waited for her approach. “Is this man, Lothar, your choice for husband?”

  She stood next to his chair. “Yes, father,” she nodded with a smile.

  “Are you sure?” Malachy lifted an eyebrow. “Park or even Serle are among some of the men that I could choose for you as your husband.”

  Dara gasped and quickly knelt, grasping the chair’s arm, “Please, not them!” She stared at Malachy, noticing his lips twitch on one side. “You’re testing me.”

  The king nodded and patted her hand. “I wanted to be sure your feelings for Lothar matched his.” He lifted her hand from the chair and turned to Lothar. “You have my consent.”

  “
Does it have to be in a Catholic ceremony?” she asked her father.

  “Yes,” replied Malachy. “The ceremony will be in full view of the townspeople to convince them that you’re not a witch, and don’t perform magic. This needs to be soon, if our plan is to be put into action before the attack.”

  “I will perform the service, after the King signs the special dispensation that the marriage rite is performed in haste with the royal blessing and that both parties are willing to marry.” Sean beamed rubbing his hands together.

  Lothar looked at Dara, and clasped his hand in hers and gave a gentle squeeze. “Please do.” Turning, he led her a few steps away. He cleared his throat as he stroked the back of her hand with his thumb.

  “Dara, my sweet Valkyrie,” Lothar began. “I will be honest with you. Fate brought me to you. I have tried to leave, to return home to prevent an attack on your people. I would have come back to be with you, or convince you to come with me to my land, yet destiny has kept me here. My life is incomplete without you in my arms at night, and your waking smile brightens my day. You are the only woman I want in my life. I ask you to join with me so we journey through our life as one, you in my heart, and I in yours.”

  “I will marry you, Lothar. I won’t make you choose between your people and me. You will need to return to your home someday and I’d like to be with you. I hope, as you said, they will accept me as your wife as they did your mother.”

  “I am certain they will, Valkyrie.”

  “Lothar, Dara,” The king interrupted them. “You two stay here as we write out the dispensation,” Malachy tilted his head for the Abbot to follow.

  Sean whispered to Dara and Lothar, “The paper needs to bear the King’s seal, and your mark then I can perform the ceremony anytime you’re ready.”

  “Not today,” Dara said watching Lothar turn to her with raised eyebrows.

  “Why?” Malachy asked as he strode towards Dara. “The dispensation only takes a few moments to complete.”

  “I’ve just been acquitted of being a witch, been proposed to a second time, and now being married in a Christian ceremony. I need time, say by the next full moon, for preparations and be happy about the occasion.”

  “That’s seven days from now,” Sean said.