Foretold Page 8

  He removed his own drenched clothing, and grimaced as he put on the loincloth. Wrapping his blanket around his shoulders, Lothar moved the two stools closer to the fire, spreading out his clothes to dry between them.

  He set the cauldron near the fire, planning to make onion and carrot soup.

  Dara moaned, and Lothar moved to her side, relieved to find her asleep.

  He recalled it was just a short time ago that he lay there while she took care of his wounded shoulder. Her courage, to take him into her home, was still a mystery to him. She had given him her hospitality when others would have left him to die. Lothar sensed his body’s reaction towards her generosity which had developed further than he anticipated.

  Now he’d given one of his family cuffs as payment that under normal circumstances, the trader known as The Wolf, would have never have bartered away.

  Lothar had begun to appreciate this land, even with the rain. The green growth appeared to be year round, unlike the weather at home this time of year. The winter weather would make traveling over the snow-covered land almost impossible except by wooden skis.

  He remembered bow hunting with his close friends, Kori and Hakon. They came across a ten-point bull elk, and he’d shot it. The bull ran off with the arrow still in its chest. Falling snow hampered their tracking the animal, taking several hours for them to catch up to it. They found the animal lying in the valley, the arrow still attached. The elk snorted and kicked its legs frantically when they approached. Finally, its head dropped, its nose flared a few times, and it fell silent. The trek back home with the buck took longer with the new snow. Eventually they built a snow cave to sleep in for the night.

  He smiled at the memory as he watched her sleep. He went back to stir the liquid in the cauldron, lifted the wooden ladle and smacked his tongue against his teeth. “Not much flavor,” he remarked. After he ladled some of the soup into a goblet, he brought it over to Dara, then shook her shoulder slightly, to wake her.

  “Something to warm you.” He offered her the goblet.

  Dara perched herself on her elbows. “I’m too tired to eat.”

  “Drink it,” Lothar advised, “to keep up your strength.”

  “Not now, maybe later,” she yawned.

  He brought the liquid to her lips and poured a slight amount into her mouth when she yawned.

  She spluttered as the liquid spilled into her mouth. He put the goblet next to her mouth again. She relented and took five more mouthfuls before lying back on the pallet.

  Lothar watched her shiver under the blankets. He was determined to get her warm. He removed the blanket from his shoulders and placed it over her blanket. He raised one side of the blankets, eased himself next to her on the pallet, pulling the blankets over both of them. He rubbed her arms and back to generate more warmth as he held her close. Gradually, he felt the heat radiate between them.

  He groaned when she turned and sleepily nuzzled against his shoulder, the closeness of her flesh teased every muscle in his body as her arm draped across his chest and her knee arched close to his groin. He took deep breaths, and tried to relax his muscles. His manhood twitched against his thigh in response to the woman he held, and he sighed in frustration. He inhaled the scent of her hair and pressed his lips softly against her forehead.

  How could this be happening to him? He was supposed to be gone, yet he detected in his heart that he needed her in his life.

  He relaxed as he pondered further. Was there a good reason for him to leave? After years of raiding, his father had made his fortune by trading, then became chieftain of the village. His mother had journeyed to the afterlife. Ulin would not miss him at all. Lothar could start his own life in this new land with the woman beside him.

  He watched the flames of the fire-pit recede to embers, and contented himself in just holding Dara.

  He smiled when he realized the Seiðrs were correct in their reading of the Runes. He did find his heart’s desire in this land, and she lay next to him.

  Chapter 16

  “Jörmungandr!”

  Lothar turned his head at the sound of Aric’s warning, and another wave surged over the side of the longboat. The seawater blinded him for a moment.

  “Fafnir can’t take much more,” Knut called out.

  Lothar opened his eyes, which burned with the salt from the seawater; then the pain was washed away by the heavy rain. The dark sky was illuminated for an instant by a flash of lightning. Lothar glimpsed a dark outline of land in the distance, which vanished while a clap of thunder roared overhead.

  “Turn the ship!” he called out to the oarsmen. “Land is near!” He yelled to Starri at the front of the longship, and pointed. “It was there, look for it in the flashes of light.”

  “Thor must be angered, to bring about such a storm as this.” Sven commented as he pulled on the oar.

  “The God of thunder must be battling Jörmungandr, the great serpent in Midgard. You can tell by the bright flashes of light, when his hammer, Mjolnir, struck the serpent,” Aric told the men as they battled against the turbulent waves to maneuver the ship.

  “Enough of the Edda telling,” Ivarr yelled to them.

  “What are you doing?” Lothar noticed Ivarr tying pouches onto his belt. “Get back to the oars!”

  Suddenly, Lothar heard a loud cracking sound. He pivoted in time to view the side of the longship break into two parts. Men struggled with oars while the waves crashed around them.

  “For Loki!” someone yelled.

  Lothar heard the voice, turned just as a dark image before him thrust a sharp object into his left shoulder. He reeled back in pain by the force of impact and the rolling waves, and slumped to the ship’s deck. Lothar looked up as lightning flashed, the brightness of the man’s white skin in the light against the dark background blinded him. The dark specter was gone.

  Lothar jolted awake. He sat up, and wiped the perspiration from his forehead. He surveyed his surroundings, the circle fire-pit in the middle of the round hut, and the table and two stools across from him draped with clothing. Dara lay comfortably beside him, asleep.

  He tried to recall more of the nightmare, the brief glimpses of the shipwreck. The storm breaking the longship into pieces, a piece of broken oar jammed into his body by one of his shipmates.

  He could not make out the face, although all on board were from his village. Who would have used the storm at sea to kill him? Aric had been a friend and Lothar remembered him lying in the sand the next morning. He thought about the others, Sven, Knut, Starri, and Ivarr, he had known each of them since their youth. Then, he thought again about Ivarr. Lothar knew that his brother Ulin and Ivarr had always been close friends.

  He rubbed his head with his hands. Over a month had passed since that night and he had not seen any other of the crew alive. “Why am I dreaming about it now?” he wondered aloud.

  He recalled when he was a child, and had a nightmare and told his father about it.

  “Nott, the Goddess of night, uses our dreams to challenge us, to know the spirit of the man as he truly believes himself to be,” his father told him.

  Lothar shook his head, clearing his mind. He was apprehensive about the timing of the dream.

  He shifted his body, and gazed at Dara sleeping with her hands together, tucked under her cheek, her auburn hair splayed over her back and the woolen blankets.

  He thought about how he spent the night lying with her in his arms. Holding her close to his body was a combination of pure delight and torment. The only separation between him and her silky smooth skin was the loincloth, while her curves tantalized his hands when he brushed over them briefly to warm her. When she moaned into his neck, the sound drove his mind to conjure up images of their bodies entwined.

  The brief moment he finally slept challenged his mind with the brutal images from the storm.

  Should he go back home and leave her here without knowing her touch? Would she be willing to accept him, a Norseman, like the one who captured her fr
iend? Would she despise him?

  Lothar heard the sheep stirring outside, impatient for their morning meal.

  Lifting the blanket, he silently rose from the pallet. He turned to observe Dara sleeping comfortably, while he tucked the blanket around her, then crossed the dirt floor to his clothes. He pulled on the dry linen shirt, his chest and shoulders stretching the shirt seams. He tied the belt that held his pouch and sheathed the knife at his waist. Lothar picked up the leggings and boots and opened the door.

  Morning frosted the blades of grass as he walked outside, and his feet curled trying to avoid the frozen ground. Hurriedly, he shook dried mud from the leggings. He quickly removed the loincloth, and struggled to haul up the cold, stiff leggings over his thighs, then yanked on his boots. He turned and tossed the loincloth back inside onto one of the stools before he closed the door behind him.

  He moved toward the shelter, small clumps of mud falling from his boots as he walked. He grumbled when he glanced at Sinséar’s empty stall. The memory of his carelessness haunted him. He grabbed some dry hay and spread it out for the noisy sheep.

  On his way back to the hut, he spotted three small segments of wood from a tree limb. He picked them up and carried them back to the hut.

  Lothar lit a small fire with his strike-a-light, and placed the iron cauldron at the edge of the fire to warm the soup again. He set her dried clothing on the chest at the end of the pallet. Next, he carried the clay pitcher outside to the fresh water barrel, filled it up, brought it inside and set it on the table.

  While waiting for the cauldron to heat, he removed the knife, and whittled away the bark from the pieces of alder. He thought of what he would tell Dara when she was better.

  “Dia dhuit?”

  At the greeting call he remembered from his father’s thralls, Lothar rose from the chair, placed the carving on the table while he kept the knife in his hand, and opened the door.

  “I thought I might find you here.”

  Lothar smiled and re-sheathed the knife while Abbott Sean walked toward the door.

  “I heard about what happened in Droicheada yesterday,” Sean started.

  Lothar walked outside, closing the door behind him. “Tell me what you heard.”

  “Only that the Priestess cast her magic, and made gold appear from nowhere to pay her taxes.”

  “More lies,” Lothar stated. “I paid the taxes, with a cuff that matches this one.” Lothar opened the pouch at his waist, then held the cuff out to the monk.

  “I thought the story was a lie.”

  Lothar watched Sean turn the cuff, then the man almost dropped it when the wolf design was turned up.

  “W-w-where did you get this?” Sean stuttered.

  “From my father.”

  “I’ve only seen the design once before.” Sean handed back the cuff.

  Lothar took it and placed it back in his bag. “My father is a trader, you might have seen it before he got it.”

  “Perhaps.” Sean cocked his head and squinted his eyes at Lothar.

  “Dara’s pony, and cart with mead, was stolen from the marketplace,” Lothar continued.

  “How did that happen?”

  “I left the cart for a moment to talk to a man named Rolf, about sailing to the mainland. When I got back, the pony and cart were gone.”

  “You’re going home?”

  “I can’t now. I don’t have enough for passage.”

  “I’ll talk to Rolf. If you are willing to work on the ship prior to leaving, I’ll convince him to take you along.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “So you can find your way home,” Sean tapped his thumbs together. “What about the Priestess? Does she know about you wanting to leave?”

  “In a sense, yes. She’s always known.”

  “Why not take her with you?”

  “I don’t want to make her choose between her home or being with me.”

  “Do you love her?”

  “That is none of your affair.”

  “I’ll take that as a yes.”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “You didn’t have to. I’ll ask Brother Michael to bring by some fish, since you’ll be working on the boat.” Sean turned.

  “I’ll meet him at the fork in the path near sunset,” Lothar offered. “To save him the trip here.”

  Sean nodded “Slán agat.”

  Lothar watched as Abbott Sean walked back up the path. He went back inside the hut and found the soup boiling in the cauldron. Using the wooden spoon, he hooked it under the handle of the small cauldron, moving the iron pot from the fire, stirred, then scooped some of the vegetable broth into a clay bowl, letting it cool. He pulled down two roughly woven sacks from the shelf, removed the bread and cheese from each and placed it on the table.

  Lothar rinsed the knife with a small amount of water from the pitcher. He cut two slices of the bread and a slice of cheese, put them together, and dunked the edge of the bread into the soup. When he finished eating, he wrapped the bread and cheese into their respective bags.

  He walked over to Dara to check on her. Her skin was warm as he stroked her cheek with the back of his fingers. He decided to let her sleep, and he went back to his carvings.

  Chapter 17

  Dara stirred awake, then closed her eyes again. As she stretched out in the bed, her mind tried to recapture the provocative dream she’d had. She recalled her skin had tingled throughout her deep slumber. In her dream, her body had tensed with anticipated rapture, desired for release, yet remained unfulfilled.

  “Valkyrie.”

  Dara’s hazy eyes focused on the warm voice. Was it real or from her dream?

  “Hmmm?” She held the blanket over her chest while she sat up.

  “How do you feel?”

  Dara gazed over Lothar’s lengthy body and smiled. “Hungry,” she replied smacking her lips. She watched him saunter to the table and cut some bread and cheese. His agile movement made her shiver as her body sensuously remembered he was the man in her dream. She dreamt of him lying next to her, holding her in his arms. Closing her eyes, she imagined his hands stroking her back, caressing the curve of her hip as her body nestled against his. The tantalizing feeling, so real, heightened her sensitivity to touch. She rolled her head and neck against her shoulders, and her hair rippled across her bare back, sending shivers of pleasure through her body.

  “For you,” Lothar said, and kneeled by the bedside.

  She opened her eyes and turned to face him. She watched as he placed a sliver of cheese upon the sliced bread. She reached for the morsel.

  “No,” he pulled it back from her hands. “I will feed it to you.”

  Dara blushed, when he raised a slice to her mouth, and brushed the edge of crust across her lower lip. She parted her lips for the bread he tempted her with. Dara closed her eyes, when she bit into the soft bread and cheese, and chewed slowly while the flavors mixed inside her mouth. She breathed deeply, and exhaled as her eyes opened. Another bite of bread and cheese waited for her.

  “I can feed myself.”

  “I know, but grant me this one pleasure.”

  “Pleasure?” Dara flinched, and pulled the blanket up to her chin. “What exactly happened last night?”

  “I took take of your needs.”

  “You removed my clothes?”

  “No, you did.”

  “Anything else?”

  “You were very cold.”

  “And?”

  “You needed warming.”

  “How?”

  “I tried to get you to eat some soup.”

  “You made soup?”

  “Yes, but you ate very little.”

  “Is there any more soup?”

  “I finished it for my meal. It’s past sunset now.”

  “So, how exactly did you warm me?”

  “Valkyrie, your body would not warm up under the blanket.” He set the bread on the platter, turned and paced the floor.

  “And.”<
br />
  He stopped in front of the pallet. “I warmed you up with my body by lying next to you.”

  “Under the covers?” She leaned back against the pillow.

  “Yes.”

  “So it wasn’t a dream then,” she whispered.

  “You look better than you did last night.”

  “I feel better.” She smiled recalling the way her body felt last night, and then her stomach growled. “But I am still hungry.” She sat again, the blanket lowered back over her breasts.

  “I am relieved.” Lothar bent down, and picked up the bread again. “Now eat.”

  LOTHAR NOTICED FOR an instant, when Dara reached for the bread, the blanket fell away from her right side revealing the enticing curve beneath.

  Lothar swallowed hard, and his shaft sprang to life. He watched her auburn tresses cascade forward over her shoulders, blocking his view of her breast. He almost groaned when the blanket was tucked back into place, hiding her curves underneath.

  He released the bread into fingers that brushed against his own, and watched her take another bite.

  “Mmmm,” she moaned while she chewed.

  The soft sounds she made, while she enjoyed the taste of the food, teased his mind. He decided he had to get his mind off her lips.

  “I have a few things to show you.” He strolled over, picked up the figures, and placed them next to her on the pallet.

  “This is Thor holding Mjolnir, his hammer.” Lothar pointed to the largest of the three figures. “Thor is Odin’s son, and the God of Thunder.”

  “Is there a meaning to him holding the hammer?”

  “Thor holding Mjolnir is a symbol of my solemn promise to protect you.”

  He watched Dara trace the outline of the hammer with her finger.

  He cleared his throat. “This next one is a Valkyrie holding a goblet,” Lothar said, and pointed to the tiny statue of a woman in a long dress. “The figure does not do you justice, Dara.”

  He noted her cheeks turn pink, as she placed the figure on her lap next to the first one. She pointed to the last figure.