Viking Love Beyond Time (Time Travel Romance) (33 page)

             
Alodie glanced back up and watched with Godgyth until the last man had gone through the stockade.  “Right” said Godgyth suddenly, giving herself a little shake, dislodging the snowflakes which had settled on her shoulders “Let’s go in and mull some ale, that’s if your husband has not drunk it all, I’m frozen and I don’t like the look of that sky, there’s a storm a brewing or I’m a dunce”

********************************

             
Godgyth was right, the blizzard hit three hours later.  There had never been a wind like it in living memory, for three days it scoured the countryside bringing snow, hail and sleet.  The gale completely demolished three cottages and took the roofs from five more.

             
Not even the hall remained unscathed.  Howling like a soul in torment, the blast blew in three windows and smashed a huge hole in the roof.  Even though they were a mile inland salt spray lashed against the building.

             
In the end most of the villagers
bedded down
in the hall and Alodie and Godgyth were so terrified that they slept huddled together in the same bed.

             
At last the wind dropped and people began to go out and assess the damage.  The countryside was denuded, hundreds of trees had been blown down and a large chunk of the cliffs had been washed into the sea.  Alodie was fearful for the shuttle and determined that at the earliest opportunity she would ride to
Winchester
and retrieve it.

             
News began to filter through from the men and at last a panting messenger brought a letter from Luke to Alodie, written in modern English as he had not bothered to learn written Saxon.

             
Captain
he wrote
Well, here we are in sunny
Exeter
, shivering our balls off under canvas, or the nearest thing the Saxons have to canvas.

             
Oswy sends his love to Godgyth.  He has had a slight chill but is on the mend.

             
Edric seems to have the hots for the daughter of one of the displaced aldermen of Exeter, at least she’s blonde and blue eyed and the nearest he has ever come (or ever better come) to his heart’s desire but I still think that if I stop an arrow he’d soon be over to Bredond with the Saxon equivalent of a box of candy!

             
We sheltered from the worst of the storm in a cottage, well I did, along with Oswy, Aelfric and Edric but the peasants had to shelter as best they could under the trees.  It was really terrifying but luckily that few miles further inland made all the difference and we did not seem to get it as bad as you did.

             
The priests here are all saying that the storm was a ‘sign from God’ as over one hundred and twenty Viking ships were wrecked off Swanage and at a rough estimate five thousand men were lost.  Wouldn’t it be wonderful if Rorik was amongst them?  Even if he wasn’t his muscles won’t be so big with all the weight he’ll be losing through starving in
Exeter
.

             
I’ll sign off now and unless there’s an emergency, I won’t use my communicator, as ordered ma’am!

             
Luke

             
“Typical” said Alodie aloud, shaking her head, balling the letter in her fist and throwing it in the fire.

             
It was strange but ever since the storm Rorik had haunted her thoughts more than ever, she had begun to believe that his non-appearance was due to circumstances and not lack of constancy on his part and Luke’s letter had brought her fears to the surface.

             
Luke was a cynical bastard, if a sophisticated word like cynical could be used to describe a man who wrote a letter which a child of ten could have bettered - then remembering the intellectual level of a child of ten in the twenty fifth century she modified it to a child of eight - a Saxon at that - how he had managed to reach officer status was totally beyond her.

             
She turned as the door flew open to admit a panting Godgyth.   “I came as soon as I could - where is it?” she gasped.

             
“Godgyth, sit down, you’ve gone purple, where is what?”

             
Godgyth plumped herself down on the nearest bench and caught her breath “the letter of course, silly” she chided.

             
Alodie raised her eyebrows questioningly.  “In the fire, why?” the older woman’s mouth dropped open.

             
“You threw a letter in the
fire? 
That cannot be, that’s only the third we’ve ever had and the other two had to be read by the priest, God love us girl what were you thinking of?”

             
Alodie began to laugh “It said they were encamped outside
Exeter
.  Oswy is well and sends his love, they’re all cold, they missed the worst of the storm but the good thing is that one hundred and twenty Viking ships were lost off Swanage and the Viking casualties run into thousands”

             
“But why did you throw it away?  It should have gone in the coffer”

             
“It was a personal letter to me Godgyth, from Luke”

             
Godgyth mopped her brow and looked as if she were about to burst into tears “Letters aren’t personal” she blustered “they belong to all”

             
Then Alodie realised.  To a simple soul like Godgyth who knew of no one except the priest who could read and certainly no other women, the written word was law.  The Bible was written and so to her any writing of whatever nature verged on the Holy.  She was in awe of it and looked on it as sacrosanct.  Alodie smiled and took Godgyth’s hand “Can you or anyone else in
Wessex
read our language Godgyth?” she asked.  The older woman shook her head.

             
“Of course not”

             
“So what earthly good would a letter from Luke to me be to anyone other than me?  I have read what he has to say, taken it in, told you and now thrown the letter away, it is no longer required”

             
“Yes, but its
writing
” stressed Godgyth, at a loss.

             
Alodie smiled again and walked over to the fire, holding out her hands towards the flames.  “Would you like to learn to read and write Godgyth?” she asked.

             
Godgyth’s mouth fell open.  “Me?  God love you girl, don’t be ridiculous!  Me, learn to read and write?  Apart from you and the lady queen, I don’t think there are more than three or four women in
Wessex
who can read and write - what an idea! What
a notion!”

             
The baby moved strongly and Alodie winced, it seemed to have feet everywhere.  A log broke open on the fire with a loud
plop
.

             
“Can Oswy read and write?” she asked

             
“Him?  No, nor can more than a handful of nobles”

             
“Well, how would you like it if next time a letter comes, you read it yourself or if one needed writing you could do that too!  Think of the shock Oswy would have when he comes home - a scholar for a wife!   Why, people would come from miles around just to bring you their letters to read!” That will do it, thought Alodie, the thought of poking her nose into other people’s business will be too much to resist.  She was right, Godgyth looked up.

             
“Do you think I could do it?” she asked, almost breathlessly.

             
Alodie walked over to her and crouching down looked her in the eyes. “Godgyth, you can do anything you want to do, any woman, at whatever age, can”

             
“But we’ve no books, no paper!” she replied.

             
“Then we’ll have to make do” quipped Alodie, walking to the kitchen door  “Ham!” she called.

             
The sweating servant who had been turning the spit glanced up “M’lady?”

             
“Please find me some slate”

             
The lessons came on slowly but surely as winter released its iron hold on the countryside. 

             
Day by day the weather became warmer, the trees became greener and the buds began to flower.  Alodie was entranced.  She had never imagined anything so miraculous and as the land burgeoned forth with life so did she.

             
At the beginning of May she found it a severe trial to even walk around.  At a rough estimate she had put on forty pounds and that with watching her weight and not eating the double helpings that Godgyth had heaped on her plate.

             
On the  fifth of May she woke up feeling, for once, full of energy, and rose almost before the sun.  She mooched round the hall for a while and picked at her breakfast.  The whole day stretched out uninvitingly before her, if it had not been for her advanced state of pregnancy she thought she would have ridden to
Winchester
to recover the shuttle.

             
Finally she could stand it no longer.  Whistling for the two hunting dogs Beowulf and Asher, she set off purposefully toward the forest, deciding to walk off some of this energy.

             
It was quiet in the forest, apart from the birdsong, and after walking aimlessly for a couple of miles she slid down a flower bedecked bank at the bottom of which gurgled a crystal clear stream.

             
Lying on her back she stared up at the sky, it was an almost achingly beautiful blue with tiny white clouds scudding across it.  Somewhere above her a lark was singing its bubbling song and on the edge of sound came the whisper of the sea.  Unbidden, her mind went back to another grassy dell and tears sprang to her eyes.  She would have staked her life on Rorik’s honesty, why had he not come back for her?  Had he made love to Gwen?  For God’s sake was he still alive?  If only she knew, the constant expectation was driving her insane and yet, if he did come for her, would she go with him now?  His treatment of her had been appalling, he had sent no message, she had heard absolutely nothing from him.

             
Her mind awhirl with unanswered questions Alodie sat up sharply and as she did she felt autodoc jabbing her.  This did not alarm her as several times during her pregnancy she had felt slight jabs in her wrist as the micro computer had sensed that her body required iron or trace minerals or even vitamins and had made good the deficiency but she had not felt anything for the best part of a month.  Puzzled, she rubbed her arm - then the first pain hit her and she screamed.  Almost simultaneously she felt a stabbing pain in the base of her spine.  Gritting her teeth she rode the pain and then struggled to her feet, frantic to get back to the hall.

             
She managed to scramble up the bank but on reaching the top she felt a warm liquid gush between her legs and glancing down she saw to her horror that her gunna was soaked.  She clung to a tree for support as another pain hit her. 
She was in labour and a
utodoc was obviously doing what it was programmed to do and assist her to have a speedy parturition. 

             
Alodie stumbled quickly up the track, and in between pains she managed to cover the best part of a mile and a half but as she neared the village she was hit by a pain so intense that her legs buckled beneath her and she collapsed by the side of the track.  Her vision was blurring and she felt sick, terribly sick.  Crawling on her hands and knees she pulled herself up inch by tortuous inch, then she felt vomit filling her mouth and she quietly lost her breakfast. “Holy God!” she muttered “help me”

             
Realising she could go no further, she backed up against a tree and sat quite still, panting. 

             
Above her a bird was singing and the wind was soughing in the trees, it was a beautiful day.  Beowulf and Asher sniffed round her hand and soaked gunna, confused and impatient.  She motioned feebly to the dogs, then an idea came to her.  “Asher, sit” she croaked “Beowulf, get Edwin!” with that she whacked the huge hound feebly on the backside and leaned back against the tree as yet another contraction hit, they were coming very regularly now.   Barking in reply Beowulf headed off down the path.  Alodie was pinning her hopes on the fact that the dog knew Edwin, he had brought the animal up from a puppy and was devoted to him.  She could only wait and pray.

             
Again, unbidden, Rorik came into her thoughts, big and dark and beautiful.  “I wonder if you’re thinking of me you bastard” she whispered to herself as she gritted her teeth and grabbed a branch as yet again pain racked her body.  She wondered if she was going to die out here in the woods and the baby too, although realistically, she doubted it.  Autodoc could not physically deliver a baby but it could fill her with what she needed to make her muscles work to their optimum, make her cervix open and eject the afterbirth, if it came to it she would have to deliver the child herself.

             
The sun was hurting her eyes and she closed them against the glare.  After what seemed like an age a dark shadow shut off the dull red.

             
“Milady” whispered a concerned voice above her, and opening her eyes she saw, thank God, the homely face of the cook, Herluva.

             
“I think I’m going to need a little help Herluva dear” she croaked.

             
“Holy Mary” she muttered as she saw Alodie’s soaking clothing “you’re about to give birth here on the road, can ye walk milady?  No of course you can’t - look, I’ll run for help - I’ll not be many minutes - can ye hold on?”

             
Alodie gritted her teeth and nodded “I’ll hold on as long as I have to Herluva” she hissed.  The woman nodded and, picking up her gunna, ran off down the track.

             
Pant
thought Alodie
pant the pain away
.  Another contraction  - Lord it was not more than two minutes since the last one.  Sweat dripped into her eyes, stinging them, she shook her head.

             
A tiny bird - a wren? Was pecking at something by her feet - she tried to concentrate all her thoughts on that, when did it hatch?  Where was its nest?  Its mate?  She screamed as the strongest pain yet took hold of her body - it was going too fast, far too fast, she was going to deliver here on the ground!

             
In the distance the surf boomed on the beach - it must be high tide.  In the twenty fifth century the seas were polluted and lifeless, no shining fish, no plankton, no life of any kind - although she had heard a rumour somewhere that algae was reappearing in parts.  Man had no right to do what he did to this beautiful planet, no right at..............a hand touched her arm and she jumped and opened her eyes.  It was Herluva, with help – Edwin and Ham  with Beowulf.  She patted Alodie’s shoulder “now now, milady” she said softly “we’ll soon have you ‘ome”

             
Ham, who was the biggest and strongest man in the village, lifted Alodie into his arms as if she were a baby and, with Edwin giving unwarranted advice and Herluva telling him not to bounce the poor lady, they set off down the lane.

             
Alodie thought that the journey would never end but at last Ham kicked open the hall door and within seconds she was laid gently on her own bed with Herluva, Godgyth and Mary, the village white witch and midwife, clucking round her whilst a huge kettle of water was set to boil on the fire.

             
Mary examined her internally with surprising professionalism and gentleness as Godgyth wiped her forehead “You were a simpleton Alodie” she scolded “if you had told me you felt so full of energy I’d have known that your time was almost upon you, its a sure sign.  If Herluva hadn’t found you I dread to think what would have happened, I thought you were still abed.”

             
Mary glanced up.  “We’re not going to have any trouble here” she announced “she’s wide open - do you want to get up onto the birth stool?” she gestured to the wooden object she had brought with her which was for all the world like a normal three legged stool but with longer legs and a large hole in the middle.

             
“Perhaps in a minute” whispered Alodie  “could I have some water?”

             
Godgyth nodded and held a cup to her lips, she moistened her mouth “Do you want to push?” asked Mary.

             
Alodie felt confused, her head was aching.  “I - I don’t know” she whispered.  Mary grabbed her arm and pulled her into a sitting position.

             
“Get out of bed milady and sit on the stool, come now” she said firmly.

             
Painfully Alodie swung her legs onto the floor and tottered across to the stool, as she did so yet another pain hit her, what this experience must be like without the anaesthetic and speeding up effects of autodoc she could not begin to imagine.  She gripped the rails which ran round the side of the stool until her knuckles showed white. 
Rorik, you bastard
she thought
where are you?

             
Mary crouched down in front of her. “Now do you want to push?” she asked.  Alodie nodded and gritted her teeth as an agonising pain once again overtook her, immediately followed by an overwhelming need to push.  She closed her eyes and bore down, there was a tearing pain and then a slithering sensation.  “Good girl” said Mary “like a cork from a bottle, its a little lad, blond hair - my he’s big!”

             
Alodie opened her eyes and sighed, her body sagged, sweat was pouring from her hairline and running down her forehead.  Mary climbed to her feet and holding a little red bundle by the ankles she slapped its bottom, there was the sound of an indrawn breath then he began to yell, the puzzled, angry cry of the new born
“Who am I?  Why am I here?  Where am I going”

             
Suddenly Alodie felt the urge to push again.  “This’ll be the afterbirth” announced Mary then “no, t’is another baby - twins!  A girl this time!” another slap, another yell, then with a slither the afterbirths came away.

             
Soon strong arms had half lifted, half carried her back to the bed and within a few moments she was cleaned and propped up on pillows holding her babies in her arms “Let them suck dear, to bring the milk in” clucked Godgyth.  Two little mouths fastened onto her nipples and she felt, starting at her toes, a sensation of such warmth, happiness and contentment that tears sprang unbidden to her eyes.  No woman whose children had been raised from a culture in an embryo nursery could feel like this, it was impossible.

             
The little girl opened her eyes, sapphire blue met sapphire blue.  She had a mop of dark hair which looked as though it would curl but she looked very much like her mother.  She could also see her own mother’s likeness imprinted on that tiny face. “Nerissa” she whispered and kissed the curly head, then turned to examine her son.  He had his mother’s colouring certainly and although he had his face buried in her bosom she thought she could detect Rorik’s forehead.  Apart from Nerissa’s dark curly hair there was no one to point the finger of suspicion.  Not that she minded particularly what Luke Owen thought but she was in a very invidious position.  If Luke suspected the babies’ parentage he could take it into his head, especially with his behaviour recently, to denounce her and turn them out, or even worse, turn her out and keep the children and there would be no one to say him nay.

             
Alodie ran her finger down the side of her son’s face and twitching, he opened his eyes and looked up at her and, as he did so, Alodie gasped.  Feature for feature Alodie’s son looked like his father, especially round the eyes.  True they were new-born blue but that could change.  Rorik in miniature looked back at her, a person would have to be blind not to see it.

             
Biting her bottom lip Alodie looked up.  Godgyth, Herluva and Mary were beaming at her.  “There’s a good girl” beamed Godgyth “isn’t he a little prince then?”

             
“‘an the very daps of his father” added Herluva.  Alodie smiled, wanly.

*****************

             
Luke was awakened by a hand roughly shaking him.  He struggled to open his eyes and sat up in his pallet.

             
The woman next to him snorted in her sleep then dragged the covers round her fat shoulders.  Squinting against the light he glanced up into the disgusted face of Edric of Lamporth.  “How you can tup the animals you do when you have the most beauteous woman in the land at home is beyond me, Luke” he muttered.

             
Luke yawned and scratched his chest “Yes, well, she’s at home as you say, this was handy and I was drunk” he turned round and pulling down the covers looked at his bedmate, “Jeez, it’s just as well I was” he muttered in modern English.

             
Standing up he stretched and Edric noticed the weight he had gained recently, he was definitely puffy round the eyes too, the golden god was rapidly turning into a slob.  “You’re drunk too often Luke” he continued, passing him a tunic and some braeis.  Luke looked up sharply.