Foretold Page 17

  Day break, he sighed.

  He gazed down at Dara, wrapping his arms around her, then leaned down and kissed the top of her head. He breathed deeply, stretching his legs; he noticed her knee move over his thighs. Suddenly his shaft grew hard for her again. He wondered how such an innocent move could be so seductive even while she slept.

  Suddenly, a pounding on the door broke his peaceful morning, followed by Park shouting.

  “Lothar, Dara, wake up.”

  Dara lifted her head from his shoulder and Lothar rose from the bed, picked up his trousers as he padded to the door.

  “You better have a good reason for disturbing us,” Lothar said through the door as he pulled up his trousers. He opened the door enough so that he could slip through, then closed it behind him.

  He saw Park’s face turn red, then turn away. He gazed down his body. “It’s a rash from the nettle-cloth shirt I wore for the ceremony last night.”

  Park turned toward him and shook his head. “Ships are headed this way.”

  “Tell me more.”

  “The watchman spotted what he thought was a single ship in the sunrise. As it drew closer, the one ship became many and spread out as they neared the mouth of the River. He only had moments to send a messenger.”

  “Go inform King Malachy and the men.”

  “We’re awaiting your orders, Lothar.”

  “Tell them to meet me in the banquet hall. I’ll be there momentarily.

  “Yes, Lothar.”

  Lothar watched Park turn and leave before reopening the chamber door, and entered.

  Closing the door, he turned, spotting Dara lounging in bed, the blanket covering over her breasts, her red tousled hair framing her face, still flushed with the heat of their lovemaking. He grew hard again just gazing at her reclining there.

  “Dara, you are an enchantress,” he breathed walking over to the bed. Placing his knee on the edge, he leaned over, and kissed her swollen lips.

  “I want you to stay safe.” He reached for his tunic, then stopped. He wasn’t going to wear the nettle-cloth one again; he’d have to grab his tunic from the garrison. He turned back to Dara. “If any trouble comes near the village, I want you to head home.” He walked to the door.

  “No! I won’t go. I know you will need everyone that can fight. I just need to get dressed.” She pulled the linen sheet around her body and stood.

  “My brave Valkyrie, you are a healer, and I trust you enough to be where you are needed the most. Men and women may be injured; you will be needed here. If there are any problems, promise me that you’ll leave immediately for home. I want you safe.”

  Dara nodded. “I feel useless, just waiting here.”

  “I understand; try to rest while waiting. The respite will be welcome when you find yourself surrounded by wounded.”

  “Just as long as you are not one of them,” she said, then pulled his head closer for one more kiss.

  “If I journey to Valhalla today, I am going as a Norseman should; fighting ‘til my last breath.” He closed his eyes and placed his forehead onto hers. “Odin willing, I will return to you. So is my word-.”

  “So is your bond,” Dara finished.

  He pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead. He watched her close her eyes and bite her lower lip, then sniff. Finally, she tilted her head back, her green eyes wet with tears, gazing up into his. He took a deep breath, kissed her forehead once more, then turned and closed the door behind him.

  Lothar hurried to the garrison. He grabbed his tunic, giving it a few good shakes to remove the last remnants of dried mud, before placing it over his head. Next, he grabbed his sword, then headed to the banquet hall. Upon entering the room, he greeted his father-in-law with a bow.

  “Sorry to drag you away from your bride this early.”

  “Tell me what the messenger saw.”

  AFTER LOTHAR LEFT THE room, Dara threw off the sheet and hurriedly dressed, pulling her silky under-dress on, forgoing the over-dress in her rush to find out what her father was going to have Lothar do. Slipping her feet into her shoes, she grabbed her cloak placing it over her shoulders as she carefully opened the door.

  Breathing a sigh of relief that she wasn’t being guarded, she tiptoed down the hall, listening for male voices to lead her to them. Finally, she heard Lothar’s voice and she crept along the corridor towards the banquet hall, stopping just outside the entrance and listened.

  “Scores of dragon-headed ships are headed directly towards the River Bóinne. If they get past our village, they will attack the interior of our land. The other kings will be under attack as well,” Malachy argued.

  “We need their help,” Lothar said.

  “No, we cannot trust the other tuathas,” Malachy thundered.

  “The raiders will not care who they attack, they are after treasure. I know their tactics. When they have all that their satchels will hold, they will take slaves, women especially,” Lothar explained.

  “Where is Dara?” the king asked.

  “She will stay here, and if the fighting comes too close to the village, she’s to head home,” explained Lothar.

  “It was your idea to train women to fight,” argued Malachy. “Why not let her fight alongside you?”

  “Malachy, your daughter is a healer. We will need her talents to help us get better if necessary. Besides, I have seen her try to attack a rabbit with a hatchet.”

  “And...?”

  “We had fish that night instead.”

  Gritting her teeth, Dara scowled at the memory of how he disarmed her so easily when she was primed to attack that rabbit.

  “What do you suggest?” continued Malachy.

  “Send a messenger to each of the Kings of Hibernia asking for their help.”

  “I told you before, No!” Malachy shouted and crossed his arms. “I will not open my borders to the other king’s armies.”

  “You will find an even stronger enemy invading your river,” Lothar stated.

  “Then get out there, Lothar of the North, and protect my land as you promised to do so,” the King ordered.

  Hearing footsteps approaching, Dara backed into the corner, as Lothar walked into the corridor. “The man is a fool,” she heard Lothar mutter before he turned then walked out of the fortress.

  Dara held her spot until she was sure that Lothar had gone. She had heard her father’s refusal for asking other king’s help. She quickly walked back to her chamber. Dara paced the floor, her hands clutching and releasing repeatedly. She turned her wedding ring on her finger. “two worlds become one,” the words repeated her mind.

  Stepping over to the chamber window, she watched Lothar greet the other men from the village and walk out of sight as they made their way towards the river.

  “Goddess, what am I going to do?” She paced the floor. “Lothar is out there with people he hardly knows; yet he’s going to protect them against his own people. I don’t know if he’d be able to attack his own countrymen. I am the Priestess of the Sisters of the Stone Circle. There must be something I can do. Goddess Danu, help me find a way to help Lothar and our people. I do not want harm to come to those people who truly are Lothar’s friends from his country. How can I keep both sides safe?”

  Dara recognized Lothar’s pouch on the table next to the wall. “Why didn’t he take this with him?” Dara wondered as she strode to the table, opened the pouch, then emptied the contents onto the table.

  The rune stones spilled out along with his cuff and the four figures he’d carved of Odin, Frey, Thor with Mjolnir, and Valkyrie. Dara picked up one of the stones and stroked her thumb over the smooth surface, recalling what Lothar told her about how to use the stones.

  “State the matter, and stand as a warrior before the Gods. The stones will confirm your decision, Valkyrie.”

  Dara repeated the words several times as she rubbed the stone in her hand.

  Nothing.

  Dara placed the rune back on the table. She glanced at the other runes sc
attered across the wooden tabletop at a loss of how to use them. She gazed at the four wooden figures near the stones. She picked up the Valkyrie figurine, remembering what Lothar had told her about Valkyries.

  Clutching the figure in her hand, Dara strode to the door. “Amena, help me quickly,” she called out the door and left it open.

  “Dara,” Amena came running in. “We are gathering into the tower, you can help us with food stuffs.”

  “I need your help first,” Dara insisted. “I want you to help me get ready for battle.”

  “You cannot help the men,” Amena protested. “Lothar and your father won’t allow it.”

  “I plan to save them.” Dara removed her cloak and struggled into her white wedding dress, then smoothed it against her body. “Now I need your help in the kitchen with the flour.”

  Chapter 33

  The scent of peat clung to the low misty morning air as Lothar walked onto the practice field. He observed more than a hundred men and even a few women wearing leather-padded tunics, and all held some type of shield and weapon. Recognizing the arms most of the group had were swords, short-handled axes, and spears, he also noted some brought bows with a quiver of arrows tied to their backs, while a few men even carried scythes from their own farms. A dozen men stood near a large man sharpening the edges of the blades.

  Joining the group, he surveyed the crowd as they assembled around him, then raised his arm to silence their mutterings before he spoke.

  “Today, we join together to save the village. Once the ships come into view, they’ll howl like animals to try to terrify you into leaving your position; remember, they are just men, not some creature. Stand strong when you see them. They will have to go through all of us to get to the village.”

  “How can we stop them from sailing past us and going up the river?” someone asked.

  “We should put some large rocks or trees in the water to run them aground,” offered another.

  “There’s not enough time” replied Lothar. “The ships have a shallow draft and will sail over them.”

  “How about a rope across the river?”

  “The force of the ships would snap the rope; the bow of the ship is very strong.”

  “What do you suggest then?”

  “Bowmen," Lothar called out, “step forward,”

  Fifteen men and two women came forward.

  “We will need you to shoot at the ships.”

  “What good are arrows?”

  “You will shoot flaming arrows at the sail and at the bow of the ship. I need to see the apothecary.”

  A man with a long grey beard raised his hand. “Here.”

  “I’ll need you to soak some linen strips in oil to attach to the tips of the arrows. Once they are set aflame, they need to remain burning as the bowmen aim for the sail or pierce the ship.”

  “Why, they have oars to move the boat.”

  “The sail will still burn, and be a distraction, and the burning of the bow and sides will cause the planks of the ship to break apart from their layers, creating irreparable damage.” Lothar waited, gathering from muttering and the nodding they approved. He continued. “The rest of you will stand on shore waiting for them to come. They will not expect it. Some of you will need to go to the other side of the river and guard that side.”

  “Why not just this side?”

  “We cannot afford for them to gain a strong hold on any land,” Lothar explained.

  “How can we defend ourselves against them? There are sixty of them out there on the harbor?”

  “The ships will carry a crew of sixteen, and from each ship two men of the sixteen must stay onboard while the others attack. Our best chance is to keep them from coming ashore.”

  Lothar heard the crowd groan. “We cannot fight that many. Most of us are farmers, not an army.”

  “I understand your fear. I know that you are frightened for your families, and your land. Most of the men on those ships are farmers for most of the year. They’re like you. They do what they must to get by, and others seek their fortune.”

  “Whose side are you on Lothar?”

  “I fight for my wife’s people.”

  “The witch? Where is she? She could probably scare them.”

  “No! She is not a witch, and she is where she is needed the most.”

  “Lothar, I want to know if we can trust you to be on our side.”

  “So is my word, so is my bond. I will fight alongside you.”

  The crowd cheered.

  “Bowmen, follow me, the rest of you split up, and remember, some of you need to on the other bank of the river.”

  Lothar watched the men and women disperse behind trees and tall grasses on each side of the riverbank. He motioned the bowmen to follow him up a short hill overlooking the river. Crouching behind some bushes, he built a small fire on top of the hill while waiting with the men and women as the apothecary prepared the strips of linen.

  “Watch for the ships to turn to shore, that’s when you light the arrows and aim at the ships,” instructed Lothar. He watched the group nod before he went back down the hill then stood behind a tree.

  The anticipation of attack streaming in his mind, Lothar clutched his sword. He glanced down noting was dressed as one of the men from Droicheda. If the men raiding were from his homeland, they would not recognize him when they attacked, so they wouldn’t heed him. Rubbing his hand over the stubble of his chin, he understood the Lothar they knew had long hair and a beard. Even his tunic with the wolf emblem, Fenris, which they would recognize from a distance, was gone. He still had the one cuff in his pouch, but he had left the pouch in the bed chamber. Even though he was now one of the men from the village, he vowed not to kill if he could avoid it. Lothar did not want to have blood money owed to men fallen when he had been the one to change sides in an attack. He would fight to keep them, his Viking brethren, from advancing further inland.

  He noticed a ship being oared up the river with its sail down, then it turned towards the riverbank.

  Looking up, he spotted a single arrow stream towards ship, lodging into the dragon-head prow and burned, followed by more arrows into the hull. The men on the ship raised their shields from above the oars.

  Lothar spotted more ships coming through the mist. He knew he couldn’t wait any longer.

  “Advance!” he yelled, his sword high into the air as he ran towards the landing ships. He noted shock on the faces of the Norse as men appeared from behind trees, rocks and tall grass and ran, yelling and screaming, towards them. He was grateful for the Norse being unprepared, and were forced into battle before their entire force landed, as the men from Droicheada fought against his own countrymen.

  He thrust, blocked, kicked, shoved, and maneuvered away from many men, knocking their weapons away or bashing them unconscious. He kept moving, ignoring his own bruises and cuts too, as he engaged another in combat.

  Lothar followed as the first groups of Norse backed towards the riverbank. Casting a glance around him, Lothar viewed the villagers fighting, some with fear in their eyes, others with determination to kill the Norse. He stepped forward to battle when he spied another ship load of men joining in their attack. He backed up a few steps, shook his head and prepared to fight more.

  Suddenly, Lothar cringed when a loud sound of cats-screeching broke over the clashing of weapons and yelling men. He turned, noting the grating sound caused everyone to cease fighting and turn to see what was making the horrible noise.

  He watched as the crowd separated when the sound piercing the air neared. Men backed away as if terrified.

  Lothar’s head weaved between the men to get a better look, then the shrilling sound stopped.

  The crowd finally separated to give him full view of the ghostly woman riding a large white stallion. A veil of white lace covering her face, her body covered in white. A soft glow emanated off the material of the dress she wore. She carried a sword at her waist and a goblet in her left hand, and handed it down to hi
m.

  “Valkyrie.” Lothar raised his left eyebrow and wondered what she was up to.

  “I am your Valkyrie,” Dara shouted. “Sent by Odin himself, Thor wishes to join alongside you and your men in battle this day.”

  Lothar overheard whispering. “Who is she?”

  He glanced around; realizing no one from the village recognized Dara, dressed as one of the Valkyrie Goddesses.

  “Valkyrie, is sent here by Odin,” Lothar called out to the crowd. “She sends word that Thor will use Mjolnir in his fight with us against the Norse.”

  The high-pitched noise started again, drowning out the cheers from the villagers.

  The Norsemen closest to her backed away as she drew her sword as the horse walked forward. The Norse quickly hauled their injured men to the riverbank, loaded the boats and rowed back out to the harbor as the villagers from Droicheada watched from the riverbank.

  Slowly shaking his head, Lothar closed his eyes, thankful that her clever ruse worked. Opening his eyes he scowled towards her for taking a chance with her life, to be killed in battle or captured. Newly married to her, he wanted to spend more than just one night with her as her husband.

  The piercing blast continued as the woman playing the wooden pipes walked to the riverbank, finally stopping after the ships had gone.

  “Thank you Amena, you played wonderfully,” said Dara.

  “Thank you, but it was your idea,” bowed Amena.

  “To the Valkyrie!” someone yelled. “She protected us.” The crowd around them cheered.

  “This Valkyrie, you claim your gratitude to,” Lothar began, “Is my wife, Dara, The High Priestess.”

  Dara pushed the veil over her head and held her head high.

  “The witch!” Someone else yelled”

  “No witch, but a clever woman who saved your village.”

  “Our king would have saved us.”

  “I am the King’s answer, fight as we did; no other help was coming from other kingdoms.”

  “We didn’t need their help.”