“Chreest
men?”
“It
is hard to explain, but I will try. These men who believe in this Chreest
teaching say that there is only one God. They trick people into joining their
ranks and giving them money and possessions. The Chreest men say it will pay
for their entry into the afterlife. It is all a lie.”
She
was silent as they entered the narrow path leading into the dark, chilly
forest. The smell of moss and rotting leaves enveloped them.
“But
this Chreest religion,” she continued, “has not so many rules as our own. In
this way they can kill a man and then repent in the knowledge that their God is
all forgiving. It is not so easy with our people. If you kill a man, then you
start a blood feud with his family and they will hunt you and your family until
justice is done. This is a much fairer system of govern. It forces a man to
consider the consequences before he commits a wrong. The good thing about the
Father God, whom we call Odin, is that once we are born into his world, we
cannot leave. So these coastal criminals, these Vikings who think they have
changed their religion, have not. Odin is still watching them and biding his
time before he punishes them. And punish them He will.”
“I
am confused when you say Viking. Aren’t you Vikings as well?” asked Will.
Heleena
looked angry, and a threatening glint entered her eyes.
“No,”
she said softly. “You are new here, so I will leave your comment pass. Viking
describes a raider. ‘Vik’ translates into Anglish as a creek or river mouth.
The Norse longships are so light they can float in very shallow water, so the
Vikings can row up narrow creeks or rivers to attack unsuspecting farms and
villages. Vikings are not Norse warriors, they are Skeldings,” she stumbled
over her words. "Skeldings,” she repeated. “Bad people who are hung,
exiled or locked away.”
“A
criminal?” asked Will. He could not help glancing at Heleena’s moist lips; they
were full and inviting.
“Yes,
a criminal, I could not remember the word. We call them Skeldings in our
tongue. Vikings are crinim…criminals, they have no honour and are disloyal even
to their own people. Norse warriors might sail similar longships, but they bow
to the old ways and honour the Gods. They live by the Norse lefskar….law. We
are not Vikings, Will. We are Norse, very different people.”
Will
nodded. He liked it when she said his name.
“Norse,”
he said nodding. “It sounds like these men are nasty bastards. I guess the people
of your village’ll be glad to deal with them.”
“Yes,
we will be, but if they bring too many men as Berag seems to think, then we
could be in danger.”
“I
dunno, from what I’ve seen, I think this village’ll be able to account for
itself pretty well.”
Heleena
looked confused.
“Your
people look like they can fight well.”
“I
understand now,” she smiled. “Yes, we can fight well. Norse children are taught
in martial law long before they learn to till soil and harvest crops. A Norse
warrior is worth perhaps four Vikings.”
They
walked on some more before Heleena veered from the path.
“Come,
follow me, I want to show you something.”
Will
had started to lose his bearings and was surrounded by thick forest on all
sides. The forest canopy hid the sky and a dim gloom enveloped the pair. A
strange, shrill bird call broke the quiet. As their boots crunched through the
thin snow a flap of wings suggested the bird had retreated to safety. Will lost
his footing as he tripped on an exposed root and landed face first in the snow.
Heleena laughed. Spitting snow and cold dirt from his mouth he shook his head
with a grin.
“Watch
your footing,” Heleena giggled.
Before
long they came upon a clearing where Will spotted a small cave in a rock face.
It seemed to travel almost ten feet back into the rock face. The pair ducked
into the shelter and Will saw a circle of large stones in the centre of the
cave into which had been placed fresh, dry wood.
“This
is a well known shelter,” Heleena said. “It is a custom to ensure that fresh
wood is placed ready to burn. If a weary traveller is caught up in a blizzard
or poor weather, this shelter is ready for them. This humble cave has saved
many lives.”
Will
noticed runes had been carved into the ceiling at the rear of the cave.
“What
does that say?”
“The
markings?” she asked. “It says ‘Thrain son of Bothrik sought refuge here’.”
“Cool!
Medieval graffiti!” Will laughed.
Heleena
appeared mystified.
“Tell
me of your home,” Heleena said.
“My
home? Not much to tell. I live alone, I rent a small house near the army base.
It is not a bad life, although I hardly live there,” he smiled.
“What
is rent?” Heleena asked.
“Oh.
It means that another person owns the home, but I pay them each week in order
to live there.”
Heleena
frowned. “I understand what it is you say, but it is a strange idea.”
Will
understood that Heleena’s village lived more like a tribe. They lived, shared
and fought together. The idea of a person profiting at the expense of another was
foreign to her. Viking Denmark was a harsh place where some of the toughest
people he had ever seen lived, but Will knew that the modern world also carried
difficulties that these people had never faced.
“What
is your wife’s name?” Heleena asked.
“I’m
not married. My girlfriend left me about a month ago.”
“Girlfriend?”
she asked, brushing a lock of hair away from her face.
“A
woman I lived with, almost like a wife I guess, but not quite.”
“You
people are strange,” Heleena chuckled.
“Yeah
I know, anyway she pissed off, had enough of me being away I guess. What about
yourself?”
“Myself?
I am not betrothed to another.”
“I
find that hard to believe,” said Will, drinking in her beauty. “Why so?” she
asked, her brow once again creasing.
“I
dunno, it’s just I find it hard to believe.”
“You
sound like father!”
“You’re
beautiful,” he blurted out, embarrassed by his words but satisfied he had
spoken them. “That’s why I find it hard to believe. You’re a beautiful woman,
Heleena.”
Her
brow softened and she smiled softly. “Thank you, Will.”
“No
problem, just an observation,” he muttered. He could feel his face burning.
He
was about to suggest they leave, but felt a soft hand on his face. Heleena
turned his face and kissed him gently. She tasted sweet, like a peach. He fell
into another world as his lips pressed against hers. He pulled away and looked
into her eyes; it seemed they were the only people here on earth. No one else
existed. No one else mattered. He kissed her again, longer this time. He could smell
the faint perfume of her hair and as his arms moved around her, he could feel
her soft, yielding body. He quashed his desire to rip her clothes from her and
push her down beneath him. A faint voice broke them away from each other.
“Did
you hear that?” she asked.
Will's
blood was pumping. He had not heard anything. He conjured horrible thoughts to
overcome the battle of the bulge that was occurring in his pants. When the
battle had been won, he climbed to his feet beside Heleena.
The
voice was louder now.
“Heleena!”
“It
is Father!” she said.
“Ho
father!” she called out.
“Never
have I known you to disappear like this!” he called, his voice with an edge of
anger in it.
“Hi
Foothark!” called Will as the elderly man strode into view.
“You
are not alone either I see!” he called, although he did not seem perturbed by
Will’s presence.
“I
was showing our guest around,” Heleena said, as Foothark came closer.
“That
is good, this is a very important place to know,” called Foothark.
“My
oath it is,” grinned Will.
Heleena
stifled a giggle.
“If
you have finished your tour, your mother has cooked a handsome meal to break
your fast.”
The
three made their way back to Ulfor, although at one point when Foothark had
made some headway, Will pulled Heleena aside and pressed her up against a tree.
He kissed her passionately before the couple stumbled back out onto the path
laughing and giggling.
“What's
that you say?” called Foothark not bothering to turn. He spoke in Anglish out
of respect for Will.
“It
is a fine day!” replied Heleena stifling another giggle.
“That
it is. That it is,” her father replied.
When
they returned to the village, Foothark held the door open for them. As they
entered they smelled cooked bacon, seared beef, boiled corn and fried egg.
“This
is the life,” said Will, sitting down to the hearty breakfast.
“I
agree,” smiled Heleena winking at him.
CHAPTER
10
The
next morning Berag invited the Australians for a tour of the village. It was larger
than they thought. To the east were acres and acres of corn, wheat, rye, barley
and a selection of vegetables. They also kept colonies of bees, from which they
extracted honey to make their mead. The ploughs were kept under protective
shelters ready to plough the earth, once the harvest had been completed in the
summer. Berag explained the horses and oxen that pulled the ploughs were kept
in the homes of the owners through the winter months. Once spring arrived they
were turned out to pasture. Far to the south, Berag showed them the burial
grounds of his village. Before he led them forward, Berag paused. He closed his
eyes and kept his hands by his side. After a moment, he nodded at them and
walked on. Each grave was marked by a series of stones laid around the grave in
a long oval shape. At the head of each was a stone larger than the others, into
which was carved a series of runes, presumably the name of the deceased and
perhaps a testimony to their life. Berag explained that the long oval shape represented
a bird’s eye view of a longship. Some of the stones were dark with age, others
had sunken into the ground over time. But that there was an air of reverence
was unmistakeable.
“Our
people,” said Berag, gesturing towards the graves around him. “Our story. Some
have died of old age, others far before their time from sickness. A few,
thankfully only a few, died as they were born. Others as they gave birth. Many
of our warriors lie here too. We farm to live, to survive, but always,” Berag
touched his chest, “we are warriors. Before hair grows on our faces, we can
wield a sword, skewer a boar with a spear and form the Skyaldaborg.”
Berag
paused when he saw the confused faces. “The shield wall,” he said slowly. “The
shield wall, or the Skyaldaborg is the formation we make when the enemy are
upon us. We form a line with shields overlapping. Warriors stand behind the
front rank ready to take the place of a warrior should they fall. The warriors
who are buried here died as they would have wanted, as every Norseman would
want. In battle.”
Berag
led them back to the village. The homes each had runes carved into the wood
surrounding the entrance. Berag explained they were protection runes, to bring
safety to the household. The walls of many of the homes were richly decorated
with polished weapons, chainmail, helmets, colourful shields and animal hides.
The
village was surrounded by thick forest, so they were never in need of wood, for
building or firewood. The firewood was usually cut at the beginning of summer
and allowed to dry over the months leading to winter. The wood used for
building was allowed much longer to dry, sometimes years. As the wood dried it
bent and warped. It was better for the wood to do this before it was used than
for it to warp once it was part of the integral structure of a building, Berag
explained. It was easier to cut straight a piece of warped wood, than to tear
down a building and begin again from the ground up.
Once
the tour was complete, the soldiers thanked Berag, who excused himself. He had
other matters to attend to. The soldiers made their way to the Great Hall,
which was empty now. The massive fireplaces at each end of the hall were dark
with ash, but the soldiers placed kindling in them which the embers hungrily
ate. Once the flames had started, they placed thicker pieces of kindling and
wood to warm the room. The soldiers sat for several hours, discussing and
laughing at their incredible misfortune. They talking about their families,
their loved ones and the people they most wanted to see. Will was the first to
leave as sun was beginning to dip in the sky. He explained that Marie,
Foothark’s wife cooked dinner early. It was to be venison, pork or bird served
with vegetables. In fact none of the Australians complained about the food they
had been served. The Norse ate well, they consumed a lot of meat and some fish,
although that was harder to come by this far inland, and many vegetables. The
meals were served in large wooden bowls or plates, the cutlery crafted either
out of wood or bone.
“Pretty
keen to leave hey, mate?” asked Steve.
“Just
hungry, almost dinner time.”
“Yeah,
right,” grinned Steve.
“What?”
asked Will.
“I
saw you two yesterday,” said Steve, “walking off together into the forest.”
“It’s
not what you think, mate,” said Will.
“Bloody
oath it is, Will!” Steve chuckled. “Now piss off and go get her!”
Will
grinned and disappeared.
He
found Heleena at home. She was sitting near her mother talking quietly.
Foothark was nowhere to be seen. Will closed the door gently behind him and
watched Heleena’s face light up when she saw him. He grinned at her. Marie, to
her credit, pretended not to notice their reactions. She cast a log onto the
fire over which hung a large black, steel pot filled with a hearty smelling
stew.
“We
shall see you soon, Mother,” called Heleena.
“Do
not be too long,” called Marie. She smiled at Will. “I want you both back by
the time the sun touches the mountains.”
“We
shall not be long,” replied Heleena, closing the door behind them.
The
pair walked towards the forest, talking and laughing. Within minutes they were
once again sitting inside the cave Heleena had shown Will the day before. They
looked silently out upon the surrounding forest for a moment. As the afternoon
came to a close, the cool air descended, falling upon them heavier than the
thickest chainmail. Heleena hugged her knees and smiled at Will. He pulled her
close. He could smell the perfume of her hair. Her dark eyes were soft, like
deep pools of light, her skin smooth and healthy, and her lips, Will swallowed
hard, her lips were inviting. He leaned into her and their lips gently touched.
She kissed him gently then pulled away for a moment to brush a strand of hair
away from her face. Will kissed her neck, as his arms moved about her. As she
moved into him he could feel her soft breasts pushing against him. This was not
just lust, Will thought. He gently kissed and licked her skin. She moaned
softly. He cared for this woman.
She
pushed him down and he looked up into her face, as she straddled him. He tried
to sit up but she pushed him down. She was stronger than she looked. She pulled
Will’s shirt off, her hand gently stroking a tattoo of a flaming skull above
his left nipple.
“What
is that?” she asked.
“It's
a tattoo, ink impregnated below the skin, they use a needle to do it.”
“I
have heard of body pictures before. A native people far to the West engrave
their bodies blue.”
“Enough
of them,” whispered Will, pulling her to him and kissing her longingly.
She
knelt up and unbuckled his trousers, pulling them down, closely followed by his
underpants. She giggled, clasping his hardness in her hand and squeezing
gently. Her hands stroked along his length and he suppressed a groan as he
released the belt around her waist. He pulled her shirt up and over her head.
Her breasts were firm and full. He kissed and licked her nipples. She cried out
softly when he bit down gently on a nipple, the soft warmth of her breasts in
his hands. She pulled away from him and stood, untying her forest green pants,
letting them slide to the floor in an untidy heap. Straddling him she smiled,
grinding her hips down on his stiffness, but without allowing him to penetrate.
He could feel her wetness on his shaft. He gently touched her womanhood, a
finger slipping inside her. Her eyes were closed, her face raised to the cave
ceiling as he touched her, his fingers glistening with slippery wetness as they
probed her clitoris, sliding over the sensitive flesh, gently at first and then
harder and faster, making her cry out. He could feel her stomach muscles tense.
Continuing to stimulate her, Will leaned forward and kissed her belly, licking
her belly button. When he could take no more, he clasped her under the thighs,
lifted her up and brought her down upon the head of his shaft. He closed his
eyes as he entered her gently. He stopped, and lifted her up again. Her hands
were either side of his head and her breasts were tantalisingly close to his
face. He slipped further inside her this time. Sitting up, she lifted herself
off him and then slowly let the weight of her body press down upon him. This
time the full length of his penis entered her. He groaned as he felt her soft
skin upon his. He clenched his teeth as he felt his manhood moving within her
warm, velvety wetness. She thrust down hard, groaning gently, her breasts
swaying back and forth. He clasped hold of them and kissed and licked them. Her
hair fell on his face, but he brushed it aside and gently pulled her down,
kissing her longingly. She pulled away and gasped, her movements becoming more
urgent, her hips thrusting against him almost violently, until she cried out.
Her hands pushed against his chest and her back arched up as the orgasm washed
over her.
He
clasped her hips and pulled her down upon him, thrusting himself into her, his
skin slapping wetly against hers. Her eyes were shut tight as he ground against
her. She was moaning gently. Will could feel the pressure building at the base
of his manhood but tried to hold it back. Her soft skin slid upon his with wet
slaps as she forced herself down upon him in rhythmic thrusts.
The
pressure continued to build and he let out a groan. Her movements quickened,
she gasped and bent down to kiss him. The wetness of her mouth pushed down on
his lips. Will pulled away from her kiss and groaned loudly as the pressure he
could no longer hold began moving up the length of his shaft. Heleena arched
her back again, her glistening breasts thrust out before her as a second orgasm
rocked her. Pushing himself into her as deep as he could, Will thought an
artery in his head would burst as he cried out, feeling himself ejaculate
forcefully inside his lover.
They
lay together breathing heavily, holding each other close as steam gently rose
from their sweat soaked bodies. They were no longer aware of the cold.
“Wow,”
whispered Will.
Heleena
kissed him gently.
They
lay together in silence for a long time before Heleena moved.
“We
should walk back, Mother will begin to worry,” said Heleena.
“I'm
more worried about your father being pissed off when he finds out. I don’t like
the idea of an axe lodged in my head.”
Heleena
laughed. “Father likes you, besides there’s no need for them to know. Yet.”
Will
pulled her to him and kissed her gently.
They
stood and dressed. Holding hands, they walked back to Ulfor.
Marie’s
stew was one of the best Will had eaten.
“You
have an appetite there boy,” noted Foothark, as Will scraped his bowl clean.
“Bloody
nice feed,” said Will, wiping juice from his chin with the back of his hand.
Foothark
gestured for Will to have more. Without objection Will refilled his bowl, sat
down beside Heleena and promptly began demolishing his second bowl.
“What
happens now that you two are lovers?” asked Marie.
Will
almost choked.
“Mother?”
asked Heleena innocently.
“I
saw you walking out of the forest, hand in hand.”
“I
do not know what you mean,” Heleena maintained an air of innocence.
“Look
at your clothes,” insisted Marie.
Their
clothes were wrinkled and dirty.
“Your
clothes were not that filthy when you left earlier,” said Marie.
“And
you boy,” added Foothark, “I see you have grazes on the back of your legs. You
were on the bottom I warrant,” he guffawed.
“Father!”
admonished Heleena.
Marie
gave Foothark a warning glance and the older man continued to eat his meal in
silence.
“We
are not angry,” spoke Marie.
“You
aren’t?” Will asked.
The
older man winked. “Boy, my daughter has been looking for a man for many years,
it pleases me that she has finally found one.”
Will
felt Heleena relax beside him. “I thought you would be full of rage,” spoke
Heleena. “and his name is Will!” she admonished her father.
“Of
course we are not angry. The Gods have presented our daughter with a husband.”
Husband.
Surprisingly, the word did not intimidate Will. As he looked at Heleena’s
beautiful face he knew that he would have no qualms in proposing to her.
Even
though she had admonished her father, Heleena knew that he called Will “boy”,
not out of disrespect, but because he saw the young man as the son that he
never had.
“But
what if I leave this place?” asked Will.
“I
would go with you!” said Heleena.
“But
your life’s here,” said Will. “I’m from another place, another time.”
Heleena’s
eyes glinted with anger.
“Don’t
get me wrong, I want you to come,” Will whispered to her, placing his hand
around her waist. “I want you with me, but what would your parents think?”
“You
speak as if we do not hear your words, boy,” chuckled Foothark. “The Gods give
and they take away, our fate, our skane, is woven by Odin’s will. If our
daughter leaves, then her skane was bespoken long before Marie and I were born.
Who are we to question the will of Odin? And besides which, I know that she is
in good hands.” Foothark smiled at Will.