Foretold Read online

“And this one?”

  “Frey.” Lothar placed the small wooden carving in her hand. “He is the God of fertility.”

  “Hmm,” she murmured. She gazed at the seated figure, turning it in her hand. “Oh no, I must have broken his beard.”

  Lothar chuckled. “No Valkyrie, his beard is correct.”

  “Then what is this part ... Oh!’

  “Remember Valkyrie, he is called the fertility God, and proves it quite well.”

  “You’ve been busy, Lothar. How long was I lying here?”

  “Since yesterday.”

  “You used your cuff to pay my taxes.”

  “It’s my fault that Sinséar was taken, after I asked you to trust me.”

  “How will you get back home now?”

  “I will find a way, Valkyrie. Someday, I will return home. Besides, I felt great after the fight, especially when I hit the stout one in the jaw. I’m ready for battle, if needed.”

  “He will not forget and will retaliate, Lothar.”

  “I have a signed paper stating the taxes are paid, and the extra to go to them. I believe they will leave you alone for a while.”

  “Humph,” murmured Dara as she handed him the three figures. She reclined, pulled the covers up to her chin, and shifted her body away from him.

  “What is wrong?” Lothar asked.

  “I’m tired.”

  “Sleep then, Valkyrie.” He leaned over and kissed the top of her head. Rising, he placed the figures on the table. Then he grabbed his rabbit pelt and walked outside, closing the door quietly behind him.

  Lothar wrapped the pelt around his shoulders, to keep the chilly night air away. He decided a brisk walk would feel good and calm his body.

  A flake of snow landed on his nose. He looked up and watched flakes fall and scatter the ground. He strode out to the forest line, and walked its perimeter, keeping the hut within sight in case she needed him. Rabbit tracks made a path along the edge of the forest, but he decided to leave them be for the night.

  He remembered that as a child, he had looked forward to the first snowfall of the season. His family and friends had gathered in the longhouse, to celebrate the coming of Yule, to honor Odin and the return of the sun. The great feast of roasted elk would be held for the entire village to take part in and enjoy the merriment.

  Now, so far from home, the sight of snow did not lift his spirits.

  He walked back to the shelter of the sheep and fed the animals for the night. Returning to the hut, he quietly stepped back inside, removed the pelt, and placed it on the stool.

  Lothar sighed heavily, as loneliness surrounded him. He picked up his blanket and wrapped it tight around his shoulders, then curled up on the floor, while he listened to Dara’s soft snore.

  He shivered, remembering the warmth they created as her body lay next to his. Last night was torture. The time spent under the covers, with her laying comfortably his arms, had been filled with so much promise, if he’d sought to satisfy his desires.

  He grumbled. The cold hard ground tempered his body and mood. He jerked his arm backwards when he felt his injured shoulder muscle spasm, and grimaced quietly until the pain subsided.

  Chapter 18

  The following weeks, Dara found herself alone when she awoke in the mornings. Sliced bread and cheese had been set out on the table, along with a goblet of fresh water. When she traipsed outside, she would find the animals were already fed.

  By evening Lothar returned, and carried a fish or two with no stab marks through them. She guessed he’d spent the day fishing with the monk, Brother Michael.

  “Tell me about how the fishing went,” Dara finally said one night as Lothar removed the knife from the sheath at his waist, cut the heads off the fish, and tossed them into a wooden bucket.

  “It takes longer. Just look at these two beauties.” He pointed at the brown trout. “I’d guess they weigh a full stone each.”

  “What are we going to do with the extra meat?” Dara asked.

  “Smoke it, and save it for later.”

  “You’ve torn another hole in your tunic,” Dara said as she stepped behind him. “And this seam keeps coming out at the shoulder.”

  “I’ve been busy. This is my only tunic.”

  “Take it off then,” Dara said, holding out her hand.

  She saw his smile when he turned to her.

  “I think you just want to see me without it.”

  “Do you want to sew it?”

  “No.”

  “Then remove it, and be quiet.”

  She watched him wrestle the tunic off, then toss his hair back over his shoulders with the twist of his neck. Wild visions flashed through her mind of his hair brushing over her skin, his bare chest pressed intimately close to hers.

  “Here,” he said holding out the tunic.

  “Huh?” Dara looked up to his eyes and blinked.

  “The rip in the tunic, remember.”

  Dara grabbed it, then stomped back to her stool, took out the bone needle and thread and began to sew. She grumbled, finding more rips in various places, and the shoulder seams were let out as far as she could extend them. Angrily, she bunched up the tunic and threw it at him, hitting him in the back.

  “That was quick, Valkyrie.”

  “It’s beyond repair. Just use it until I’m done with this one.” She took from her basket the linen tunic she’d started earlier and began to sew.

  LOTHAR SHOOK HIS HEAD and let out a snort as he slid his knife into a fish.

  How was he going to tell Dara that he had secured passage, and was leaving the next night? The Abbott had been true to his word in talking to Rolf. In return for passage, he’d scraped the hull of the ship all week long, and today, he loaded cargo in preparation to leave the next night at high tide. Each night he met Brother Michael at the fork in the path. The monk would hand him one or two fish, then go on his way without a word. Lothar knew he lied about catching the fish, but he didn’t want to tell her he was leaving yet. He decided to delay that moment as long as possible to avoid looking into her eyes as he told her of his departure.

  When he finished cutting the fish into smaller steaks, he rinsed the knife, and placed it on the table.

  Crash!

  Instinctively, Lothar snatched up his knife and spun around when the door suddenly flew open. Park and Serle burst in, swords drawn. He felt Dara’s hand on his shoulder, as she ran beside him.

  “Where’s the other cuff!” Park demanded.

  Lothar stepped in front of Dara, sneaking the knife behind his back.

  Dara peered from behind Lothar. “My taxes are paid. Get out!” she yelled.

  “Where’ve you been hiding the mead? Vaughn never said anything about it being stored here.” Serle sneered.

  “We’re just supposed to get the cuff,” Park said to Serle.

  “I want more of that mead,” Serle countered.

  Park turned to Lothar. “You weren’t supposed to pay her taxes,” he drawled.

  “I’ve got the cuff right here.” Lothar held his left arm out with the cuff on it, deliberately flashing the gold.

  “Hand it over,” demanded Serle with his sword raised.

  Lothar motioned to remove the cuff, hiding the knife along the length of his arm. “It’s stuck,” he said, grimacing and twisting away from them. “Ah, there it comes.” He whirled around, and threw the knife into Serle’s shoulder. The stout man’s sword fell out of his hand as he flopped to the floor screaming.

  “Not again!” Park yelped.

  Lothar lunged at Park, knocked the sword out of his hand, then smashed his fist into the pock-faced man’s nose. Blood spurted from Park’s face as he collapsed onto the floor.

  Lothar noticed the screaming behind him stopped. He turned his head to find Dara holding his knife in one hand, and the sword in her other, pointing both blades at the muttering Serle as the stout man wadded the ripped tunic against his shoulder. Lothar smiled, noticing Dara’s lower lip tremble, struggling with
her compassion to heal against saving her own life. She caught his gaze and nodded back to him.

  Lothar turned back and lifted Park to his feet by the front of his tunic. “Tell me who sent you!” he commanded.

  “He’ll kill me.”

  “Tell me, or I’ll save him the trouble!”

  “I don’t know his name.”

  “Tell me what he looked like.”

  “I don’t remember.”

  “Maybe this will help your memory.” Lothar held out his fist to pound him again.

  “He wore a hooded mantle,” Park spoke quickly as he tried to shield his face with his arms. “He was tall, and spoke differently, like you.”

  Lothar sensed that someone else from his ship survived. “Tell me where the cuff is.”

  “He has it, the one who sent us.” Serle sat up.

  “Go on.”

  “After you vanished from the marketplace on tax day,” Serle paused, pulled the bloody, wadded tunic away and gazed at his shoulder. “He appeared later and asked about the cuff. He has your cuff now. He even paid seven gold coins for it.”

  “Explain these coins.”

  “Roman, Frankia and some other coins I’d never seen before.” Serle placed the shirt back to his wound.

  “Tell me about these odd coins.”

  “They were just gold coins. They had some sort of design on them. He said they were called dinars, and he got them from a trade route.”

  “How did you know about the mead?” Dara asked

  Serle remained silent.

  “Answer her!” Lothar yelled.

  “We took it,” Park confessed. “To get back at the witch for killing Vaughn.”

  “Where is it?” she yelled.

  “Gone. We passed it around at the garrison,” Serle said, and smiled and smacked his lips. “Very tasty.”

  “What about my pony, Sinséar?”

  “That ornery pony?” Park started. “She kicked me twice while I hitched her up to the cart. We didn’t want the king to find out about what happened, so we brought it back. Isn’t that right, Serle?”

  Lothar turned and looked at Serle, who nodded. Lothar snarled, turned back to Park and demanded, “Tell me where you’re to meet this man.”

  “At the harbor, tomorrow night,” Park said.

  “Fine then, you’ll meet him as planned.”

  “He’ll want the cuff,” Serle stated.

  “I will bring it myself.” Lothar released Park who staggered backwards.

  “We can’t bring you,” Serle blurted. “He’ll kill us.”

  “You’ll take me with you if you want to live.” Lothar walked over towards Serle and hauled him to his feet. “Now, move over beside your friend.”

  Watching Serle shuffle next to Park, Lothar stepped close to Dara.

  “Stay here,” he said quietly.

  “I should check Serle’s injury.”

  “Your caring nature for others will get you hurt one day.” He shook his head, keeping his eye on the men.

  “I helped you, didn’t I,” she stated.

  “Yes, you did Valkyrie, and for that I am grateful.” Lothar patted her hand. “Though for your safety, you can tend to him after he’s secured.”

  Dara released the knife into his hand.

  Lothar placed the weapon back in its sheath at his waist. He took the outstretched sword from Dara, grabbed the rope, gesturing the two men out the door. He walked them to the shelter, and tied them to a post back-to-back in the stall.

  He pulled back Serle’s shirt to look at the knife wound and grinned. Then quickly changed his expression into a grimace and hissed, “I am not sure you’ll survive.” He stood. “Dara will need to act quickly.”

  “The witch?” Serle’s voice trembled.

  “She’s the only one who can save you,” Lothar taunted. He wanted those two to realize they were wrong about Dara.

  He walked over to Sinséar, unhitched the pony from the cart, led her back to the shelter and put her in the stall with the men tied up directly behind her. He placed a sack of oats under the pony’s mouth, then securely tied the straps of the bag around her head.

  “Shh, don’t disturb her while she’s eating. I would hate to see you get kicked again.” He watched Sinséar’s ears flatten, and she moved backwards, her tail flicking rapidly. “It appears she remembers you.” He rubbed her flank and, leaving the two men, walked back to the hut.

  He opened the door to see Dara shaking, as she picked up the toppled stool. He walked over and wrapped his arms around her, rubbing her back as he held her. Slowly, he felt her relax, her arms wrapped around his waist, and she cried into his chest. He held her there, and stroked the hair down her back, while he soothed her.

  “Dara listen to me. You don’t have to tend to Serle if you are frightened.”

  Dara sniffed and took a step back. “It’s my nature to help those who are hurt.”

  Lothar rubbed her upper arms. “Very well then, but after you finish, you should go to the circle of stones. Pray to your Goddess Danu, seek strength from her.”

  “The ceremony is not until tomorrow night,” Dara said.

  “Take time for your preparations.” He stepped back, and held out the woolen cloak for her.

  “How long do you intend to keep them here?”

  “I’ll untie them after you’ve tended their wounds. They will remain here for the night, though; I need them to find out who knows about my cuffs. Until then, I will take care of those two while you’re gone.”

  Dara sniffed, and lifted her chin. “No, you finish smoking the fish.” Dara walked over to her sewing basket, saying, “I’ll check on Serle.”

  “Dara...” Lothar drawled.

  “No, I said I’d take care of him.” She walked to the door. “Now, take that smelly stuff out.”

  “You don’t have to do this,” he offered.

  “Stand as a warrior,” she said bravely.

  “Like a true Valkyrie.” He kissed her forehead and watched her walk to the animal pen with her head held high.

  Chapter 19

  As he stood near the harbor, the sleeves of Lothar’s new tunic flapped in the breeze, under the fur pelts he wore over his shoulders. Holding a knife concealed in his hand, he felt the icy night air blow with the promise of another snow. While Park and Serle walked the beach, each held a burning torch as the signal.

  Waves broke against the shoreline. The tide beginning to recede reminded Lothar he was to board Rolf’s ship soon. He wanted to take Dara with him, but decided not to when he realized he’d already caused her enough hardship and pain. He knew he was a selfish bastard by leaving her without a word, but he had to get back to Oseberg. Traveling alone would be faster, and easier. Still, he had to find out who wanted his other cuff, before he boarded the ship anchored out in the bay.

  He stared out at the rolling waves and watched as a coracle rowed ashore. A hooded figure stepped out of the small boat and walked up to Park and Serle, while a smaller man in the coracle rowed it just off shore.

  “You get the cuff?” The cloaked man edged closer to Park.

  Lothar recognized the voice. Memories of the storm flooded back to him.

  “I had a bit of trouble, but it’s here,” Park told the man.

  “Show it to me!” the man commanded.

  Lothar stormed in front of Park. “He can’t, I’m still wearing it, Ivarr.”

  “Lothar!” Ivarr yelled in surprise.

  “So, you’re the one who wanted my cuff,” Lothar accused.

  “You were supposed to be dead,” Ivarr sneered and drew a knife from his belt.

  “By the oar you stabbed me with.” Lothar flipped out the concealed knife in his hand, holding out the blade to guard against an attack from Ivarr. He spotted Serle push Park, and together they scurried away.

  “It was the storm.” Ivarr circled Lothar, waving the knife in his right hand.

  “You tried to kill me.”

  “The oar broke, and I was
tossed around, while the waves broke across the ship.”

  “Not that time,” Lothar argued. “I saw the look in your eyes.”

  “How did you know I was here?” Ivarr snarled.

  “Not many people have gold dinars from the Caliphate of the Abbasids on this island. I knew someone else survived.”

  “I am the only other survivor,” Ivarr roared. “I have one cuff, which should be enough to secure Ulin as chieftain. And I want to thank you for repairing my boat.”

  Stunned by the revelation, Lothar stopped. “Your boat?”

  Ivarr seized the moment, and ran into the surf. “My boat,” he shouted. “You’d be surprised what a few gold coins can buy here.” Ivarr quickly pulled his body into the awaiting coracle.

  Finally able to move after the shock, Lothar dashed into the cold surf, watching Ivarr and the other man row the coracle just out of reach.

  “I will tell Ulin of your death, and return this cuff as proof,” Ivarr taunted.

  “I still have the other one.”

  “For you to get off this island, and back before I do, would require the act of the gods. I will return. I want to meet the woman you paid your cuff for. I wonder if she is worth it.” He laughed.

  “You touch her, Ivarr, I’ll slice the blood eagle across your back,” Lothar warned.

  “Until next time then,” Ivarr yelled.

  Lothar stood helplessly as the tide carried Ivarr to a boat anchored offshore.

  “Cast off!” Ivarr yelled as he climbed aboard the boat.

  Lothar watched as the ship sailed away into the night. He turned and walked back towards the path.

  Park and Serle come out of hiding. “Well done getting rid of that one.” Serle handed Lothar a linen cloth.

  “You knew him?” Park asked.

  “Yes,” Lothar said as he dried his legs.

  “He stabbed you?” Serle asked.

  “I survived.”

  “I wonder where he’s headed?” asked Park.

  “Mercia, Frankia, then home.”

  Serle turned his head. “How do you know that?”

  “That was the ship I repaired.”

  Shocked, Park stepped back. “You?”