A Viking Moon Page 4

“Come on miss, get those bones out of bed”, a disembodied voice whispered in Sarah’s ear.

  Sarah groaned, opened one eye and then quickly shut it again. It was still dark and she had been having such a nice dream, involving a warm fragrant pasty in a crisp brown paper bag whilst sitting on the cliffs near her Nan’s house in Zennor. Such a nice dream! Slowly the sounds of snoring and the breathing of deep sleep penetrated Sarah’s own sleepiness. Very carefully so as not to wake the young boy gently snoring beside her, Sarah slid out of bed and silently put her boots on. As she fixed her tunic to her dress she looked down at the boy whose blonde hair glinted red in the firelight.

  His name was Harald and at four years of age was the youngest of Astrid and the Jarl’s five boys. In the three weeks that Sarah had been here all the boys (except Hakon the second eldest who did nothing but scowl at her) had come to treat her like a sister but for Sarah Harald was her favourite, maybe it was because when he was introduced to her he had given her a hug instead of the manly nod that his brothers had.

  In fact, Harald was a good source of hugs. During her first few nights when the tears had threatened to overflow it was Harald who had silently given her comfort and had the wisdom not to mention it.

  Turning away from the sleeping boy and stepping quietly outside to use the privy, Sarah marvelled at how she had adapted to this life so easily. Holding her breath against the smell she completed her business quickly – the privy was not a place to sit and read the paper, not that there was a newspaper here, but if there was...

  Once finished, Sarah began what had become her daily chores. First, she had to collect the milk from the goats which were being milked by the two girls who were Astrid’s thralls and then help prepare the barley porridge which was to be the breakfast or the day-meal as they called it here. Once the porridge was bubbling quietly over the hot coals in the centre of the room Sarah would go to wake up the younger boys, helping the sleepy Harald to get dressed.

  For the youngest three boys it was their responsibility to see to the family goat herd, Leif who was the oldest of the three at ten years would take them out to the fields above the village and the younger two, Harald and Rolf would then be able to clean out the goats stall, put down fresh straw and fill the water trough. It would not be until then that the boys would eat their morning meal as most people would do a couple of hours work before eating.

  After this the younger boys would head up to the fields behind the village and relieve Leif of his goat tending duties, so he could also get something to eat. Although the goats generally looked after themselves it was the boys job to make sure they didn’t wander too far or break through into the crops. The boys would also spend their time foraging for berries or herbs as requested by their mother.

  The steading was a hive of activity, there was always something that needed doing. Gardens and animals to tend, wood to gather, grain to grind, wool to spin and weave, things to fix and mend and as it was situated on the coast, fishing was an important activity for many of the men and boys of the village.

  The steading consisted of five main households with their own gardens and animals; a barrack type building where the Jarl’s bachelor warriors slept and the hall where the Jarl’s family resided. The hall was much more than just the Jarl’s house as it served as a communal place where meetings were held as well as the place where feasts and festivals were celebrated.

  The steading was also in the enviable position of having a forge, the only one for many miles and as a result there were numerous visitors from neighbouring communities with items to mend and requests for new tools. Ulf, the giant who had found Sarah all those weeks ago was the black smith and although the forge was his to run as he pleased he did have to pay Geir a tithe for being in the steading. Leif was to be apprenticed to Ulf in a couple of years, although from the amount of time he spent at the forge it would seem that his apprenticeship had already begun.

  In the beginning, Sarah had been horrified at the amount of work the children were expected to do in any given day but as time had gone by she realised that it was a necessity. If the work was not done then people would suffer. There was no supermarket, no welfare, no hand outs. You helped yourself and when you could, your neighbours.

  She had also found it hard to get her head around the idea of having slaves or thralls. The two girls who belonged to Astrid were not the only thralls, there were several others who also belonged to the Jarl and these were men and women who worked around the steading. It was possible to become a free person if you worked hard enough or did some great service for your owner who then had the right to declare a person free. In her innocent twenty first century mind Sarah thought Jarl Geir should go and buy as many slaves as he could and set them all free, which would have been the humanitarian thing to do. As of yet, it was not a thought she had voiced.

  At first Sarah said little but gradually her natural curiosity got the better of her and she found herself asking questions and having some very interesting discussions with Astrid and the younger boys, as they were the only ones with whom she felt truly comfortable. It was during one of their many discussions that Astrid had pointed out that one of the many roles her husband played, apart from the farming and fishing, was to protect the steading and surrounding settlements (hence the warriors), resolving disputes and providing help for those who were in need.

  The latter accounted for old Gudrun who now occupied a small corner of the hall. Her husband had taken their little fishing skiff out one morning and never returned. There had been two sons but both had gone off raiding and had yet to return.

  With no children to provide for her Jarl Geir had taken the old woman into the hall. In the beginning she had helped to look after the younger children not only Harald and his siblings but many of the village youngsters. Now, however, with her eyesight failing she sat slowly spinning wool and occasionally nodding off. Sarah had figured that in this world it was considered shameful to be unproductive and so had rolled up her sleeves, and got stuck in with the rest of them.

  There had been some funny moments like the time she thought she would give try her hand at milking the goats but it had been dark and, well, the papa goat didn’t take kindly to being grabbed and squeezed in that part of his anatomy. From then on she left that job to the thralls; mostly she followed Astrid around being an extra pair of hands, something for which Astrid seemed grateful.

  Today though, found the majority of the men up in the fields behind the village repairing the fences keeping the goats out of the oat and barley fields. The sun had been up for several hours when Astrid, Sarah and the thralls walked up the hill with watered ale, bread and cheese for the workers. As they approached the men working in the warm sun, snatches of their conversation floated down to them.

  “She will be of an age to marry soon”.

  “Aye, hard worker, good with the young ‘uns too, make a good wife”.

  “Yeah but who’ll want her? You heard what the volur said the other night – who wants a woman that has been touched by the gods?”

  “Knew we should’ve left ‘er where we found ‘er. Ulf, you seem quite taken with ‘er and I’ve only ever seen you smile like that around the Lady Astrid”

  “Shut ya mouth Snorre before I shut it for ya,” growled Ulf taking a menacing step toward the now retreating Snorre who grinned wolfishly.

  “Mind your tongues all of you! Your idle gossip shames you, Ulf did right in bringing the girl here, her future will not be decided by gossipmongers,” growled Magnus, one of the warriors and Geirs right hand man.

  Heat filling her face and neck, Sarah realised that they were talking about her. Looking at Astrid and the other two girls she knew they had heard too. At this point the men also realised that they had been overheard and all except the repulsive Snorre avoided Sarah’s eyes.

  Astrid cast a withering look at the men, Sarah stood up straighter returning Snorre’s stare until he too looked away. Glancing at Astr
id, she gave a slight smile and started handing out cups of ale. When she passed a cup to Ulf, his hand rested briefly on hers. Feeling her face go red yet again she quickly moved on.

  Good grief, marriage? I’m only thirteen, what crazy person marries that young? Then, looking at Astrid she remembered...Viking women, thats who. Taking a calming breath, Sarah said a short and silent prayer to any Viking god or goddess who might be listening that she wouldn’t be here too much longer for marriage to become an issue. Although she didn’t know how she was going to get home, she had faith that she would find a way...eventually.

  After she had served the watered ale to the men Sarah found a spot a short distance away and sat down waiting to take the remainders of the meal back to the hall. Closing her eyes she felt the grass tickling the backs of her legs, the sun gently warming her back, the low murmur of conversation and the odd bark of laughter competing with the peeping noises of some unknown bird and the hum of insects.

  The question that had been bugging Sarah since she got here was; how did she get here? And why was she in Viking Denmark? So far her conclusions were flimsy. Somehow she knew that it had something to do with the amulet that the crazy old lady had given her and the rune stone that she had been reading in the museum, but beyond that? Remembering the words of the old lady that everything that happens does so for a reason had given her some kind of comfort. She had so far managed to keep the amulet secret as deep down she knew without knowing how or why to let others see it would be asking for trouble.

  Occasionally when a private moment arose she took the amulet out and held it trying to wish her way home but without success. Interestingly, on one such occasion she had let thoughts of the steading and Hakon enter her mind. The results had given her a fright. One minute she was sitting on some logs in the wood shed and then she was standing at Hakons elbow watching him drink from the water barrel outside and yet she knew that she was still in the wood shed. Putting it down to wishful thinking, she had walked out of the shed only to find Hakon drinking at the water barrel.

  Sarah had repeated the exercise on several occasions with different people while always making sure that she chose someone who she neither knew well nor what they might be doing at that time. Each time a part of her was able to see what they were doing a little into the future, usually no more than about five minutes was her estimate. It was really very cool and having this ability made her feel a little bit better about not being able to go home.

  There were times when the thought of spending the rest of her life stuck here frightened her so much she almost stopped breathing. She tried not to think too much about her Dad and Nan. What must they be thinking, her disappearing yet again. They would be worried sick and every time she thought about it her stomach clenched so tight it hurt. So, pushing these things to the back of her mind she just got on with her life as it was in the now. Deep down she felt that the problem would resolve itself and that home was just around the corner. Her time here was something to be weathered much like boarding school. Take it one day at a time had become her silent mantra.

  Thinking of this brought back to her the encounter she had two nights ago. A volur and her entourage had arrived in the village and as a follower of Freya she was treated with great respect with a feast being held in honour of her visit.

  As preparations for the feast had kept Sarah busy for much of the day and throughout the early part of the feast, she had yet to catch more than a glimpse of this VIP guest. Before the event turned rowdy, in true Viking style, the blue cloaked volur and her companions stood up and moved to the centre of the hall. Burning with curiosity Sarah found a spot to watch the proceedings.

  An intricately carved chair was brought in and the volur sat as her companions stood in a semicircle behind her and began to chant. The song caught Sarah’s attention and she felt the hairs on the back her neck stand on end and goose bumps ran down her limbs. With the ale jug in her hands, her head cocked to one side, Sarah listened, lost in the chant.

  “Ho! Sarah, bring us that jug girl!”

  The deep voice of Magnus brought Sarah to with a jolt. Her hands fumbling, she almost dropped the jug, much to the amusement of those around her. Rapidly blinkin, the room came back into focus and her eyes met Astrid’s concerned look and Geir’s more calculating one. She gave them both what she hoped was a reassuring smile and carried on serving the ale, trying to block her ears from the mesmerising chanting.

  It was some time before she felt that she could look towards the centre of the hall. The chanting had stopped and now the volur was receiving various members of the steading and after touching them on the head she would then speak to them quietly. Some would come away looking pleased, others less so. Not knowing why, Sarah decided to steer clear of the woman. Eventually though her curiosity got the better of her and she grabbed Rolf as he ran by on an errand for his mother.

  “Rolf, this may seem a stupid question to you, but who is she?” asked Sarah, nodding towards the lady in the centre of the room. Rolf raised his eyebrows but by then he was used to Sarah’s questions.

  “That’s the volur, she is favoured by Freya” he answered as if that was all she needed to know.

  “Yes, I know that bit…but what is she doing?” asked Sarah, feeling very daft for not knowing.

  Rolf sighed impatiently. “She’s a seer and can tell you your future,” he said before dashing off into the crowded hall.

  A seer? Well, I think that it will be better if I keep a low profile. For some reason that she couldn’t define the woman made Sarah feel very uncomfortable. Even so, she couldn’t help but cast surreptitious glances at the woman.

  Her age was indefinable but Sarah guessed it was somewhere closer to forty than thirty. Her almost golden hair was shot through with silver and was elaborately coiled on top of her head. She wore a deep blue cloak held at the shoulders by two large oval silver brooches and around her neck was a long necklace of amber and silver. In her hands was a wand of alder signifying her power as a representative of the goddess Freya.

  When there were no more supplicants, she stood up, raised her arms and closed her eyes.

  “You have a visitor who comes from no place known. “Come forth girl, I wish to see you” commanded the volur. Until then the woman’s voice had been nothing but quiet murmurs to Sarah, but now she found herself obeying even though everything in her screamed to find a corner and hide. Within an instant the hall fell silent and all eyes turned to Sarah standing at the edge of the hall.

  “Come closer, I will not bite” smiled the prophetess beckoning Sarah forward.

  Yet again, Sarah found herself doing as she was told and as every step bought her closer to the woman at the centre of the hall, her heart raced and her hands trembled. Trying to pull herself together, she reminded herself this was, after all just a woman, who had no power over her. There was nothing to fear. Or was there? Looking into the woman’s clear cold blue eyes, she had a very strong feeling there was indeed plenty to fear.

  “I know this girl.” There were gasps and mutters around the hall. “She has come from a place far from here and is not here to stay. Treat her well and when you think that all is lost then know that it is not, for she will be your salvation.” As the volur spoke she reached out and held Sarah’s arm looking deep into her eyes holding her captive. I now know how the rabbit feels when caught in the headlights of a speeding car.

  “I will now speak in private with the girl,” the seer said with a pointed look at Geir who, with eyes narrowed nodded at Magnus.

  The large grizzled warrior stood up and led Sarah and the woman out of the hall to the communal barn that housed the steadings supply of hay and grain. After lighting an oil lamp for them Magnus retreated to the doorway and stood guard so that they would not be interrupted. All this time the woman had not said another word and Sarah was too dumbfounded to say anything to her. Once again the seer looked at Sarah but this time her stern face r
elaxed into a warm smile her eyes twinkling.

  “Forgive the dramatics but to be a woman in this world is such hard work! Well I can see from the look on your face you are wondering what is going on? Hmmm, I won’t tell you who I really am but let it be said that I know exactly where you are from. A land of cars, computers and television, also, that your principle concern is when and how you are going to get home, am I right so far?” asked the ‘volur’ patting Sarah’s hand.

  Sarah could only nod dumbly, “I am sure you have also managed to work out that your introduction to time travel has something to do with the amulet you have safely tucked under your dress?” Again Sarah nodded even more surprised than before, if that was possible.

  “Well, it is my job to tell you that you will be able to go home but not until you have helped this steading, and I don’t mean by doing chores or looking after little boys. This act will be something big and it will not be easy, so be prepared.” The seer paused and at that moment Sarah finally found her voice.

  “Who are you? How do you know about where I am from?”

  Smiling she replied, “I can’t answer those questions, but if you succeed in completing this task and return home, then your questions should be answered...mostly”.

  “If I should succeed? What happens if I fail?” asked Sarah.

  “That is not a question you want answers to, my dear” replied the seer, the smile disappearing, her eyes turning to ice. Sarah made a mental note, failure was not an option.

  “Ok, can you tell me what kind of thing I need to do in order to go home? Out in the hall you said I would be the village’s salvation? Sounds pretty big to me, frankly the thought of being anyone’s salvation, let alone a whole village, scares me stupid.” Sarah’s voice had begun to tremble.

  Feeling some empathy the woman relaxed and put an arm around Sarah, after all she was still a child in many ways and one who had not been given any preparation for the destiny that had been thrust upon her. She wished that she could give Sarah more comfort and answer her questions but she also knew that to do so might change how things were supposed to turn out.

  All her feelings about the situation aside, she knew that a lot rested on Sarah’s ability to tackle the task ahead of her. Taking a deep breath she lifted Sarah’s chin looked her in the eye and smiled gently.

  “It seems hopeless right now doesn’t it? But you need to be strong, even when things seem to be at their worst, keep your Nan, your Dad and your home in mind. They are good people, who have brought you up to be a strong and independent young woman so use the skills that surviving at boarding school gave you,” the volur paused.

  “Now I have probably said too much. We will go back to the hall and you can go about your business, even though they will be all agog to know what was said. Stand tall Sarah, do not be embarrassed or ashamed of who you are. I will be gone before you are awake so I will say goodbye now. Maybe we will meet again one day”.

  The volur – who was probably not a volur - gave Sarah a quick hug, turned and walked over to Magnus indicating that he could lead them back to the hall. As they entered the hall, conversation ceased and all eyes were on Sarah. The seer joined her entourage and Magnus resumed his seat to the left of Geir.

  Astrid looked at Sarah with a question in her eyes but Sarah, who did not feel in the mood to talk, picked up a jug and wandered around the tables refilling horns and tankards, avoiding all eye contact. Perhaps if everyone got really drunk they might just forget the volur and their mysterious guest.

  That had been two nights ago. Since then there had been the usual amount of stares and hastily ended conversations whenever she appeared but having been through it all when she had first arrived in the village it was relatively easy to shrug off. Astrid had been more direct. Wanting to be as honest as possible with the woman who had made her part of her family, Sarah had told her that she was still trying to make sense of it herself and when she understood then she would talk to her about it. Astrid had kindly left it there, heading the Jarl off when it looked like he wanted to push her further on the subject.

  With her thoughts wandering Sarah had not realised that the men had returned to their work and Astrid and the girls were packing up the remnants of the morning meal. Standing up quickly Sarah hastened over to help, tucking her worries into a corner of her mind labelled ‘to deal with later’, but for now there was work to do.

  Just as they were heading down the hill towards the village Erik came dashing up. He stopped briefly to excitedly inform his mother they had visitors from the King and he was sent to fetch Magnus and the men. Sarah observed Astrid’s face as she watched her eldest son run off. She was frowning and did not look that thrilled at the prospect of nobility at her doorstep.

  “What does it mean Astrid?” Sarah asked quietly.

  “It means duty, obligation and a disruption to our peace” replied Astrid with a sigh. Turning Astrid continued down the hill towards the village with Sarah and the girls falling in behind her.

  Chapter Four