The Caged Viking

by Sandra Hill

  “What? Of course.” Thorkel appeared insulted before he realized that Hauk was teasing.

  “Originally, I thought to go amber-harvesting in the Baltics, but with our success in replenishing the larders here this winter, I am more inclined to adventure. Maybe those lands beyond Iceland.”

  “Where Lady Kirstin came from?”

  “Nay, not that,’ he replied. “’Twould be impossible.” Which was more true than Thorkel could realize since Kirstin came not just from a distant land but a distant time.

  “Do you think she will ever come back?” Thorkel asked.

  Hauk stiffened. Thorkel pushed the bounds of their friendship with his question, just had Frida had. Everyone knew it was a forbidden subject. Even so, Hauk answered, “Nay. She will never return.” Then he added, “Even if she did, she would no longer be welcome.”

  Signs can be interpreted in different ways, but a sign from God? Oh, boy!...

  Everything Kirstin did for the following weeks was seen through a Hauk filter.

  When she went to a supermarket, she wondered, “What would Hauk think of such abundance?”

  When she drove to her apartment in LA to get her work laptop and research materials, she smiled. Hauk would love driving a car. No doubt he would have a lead foot on the accelerator.

  When she watched her father working in the vineyard, she wondered if Hauk’s family had ever tried to raise grapes. Probably not, not that far north.

  When Torolf and Hamr visited one weekend and talked about their latest SEALs’ mission, she realized that Hauk would probably fit in well with his warrior skills.

  The last straw was when she accepted and went out on a date with JAM…Jacob Alvarez Mendoza…the Navy SEAL she’d been dating off and on for years. She sat across from him in a Salina restaurant, and couldn’t help but notice how attractive he was, and nice. But she felt nothing. He was not Hauk.

  After that, she stuck pretty close to home…Blue Dragon, that was. For some reason, she needed the comfort of her family, especially since the dean of her college at UCLA, Dr. Carter, assured her that her substitute was doing a fine job, and Kirstin would be welcome back next semester. Dr. Carter was even more accommodating because Kirstin had mentioned that she’d found some new research material that would enhance her doctoral thesis, which was to be presented after the new year. And that was the truth, but in a way her supervisor was not aware. All that Kirstin had witnessed and experienced during her time travel would enhance her thesis tremendously. And she did work diligently on her laptop every day.

  But then she started streaming some of the old Outlander series, particularly the episodes where Claire decides to go back in time, again, and she is planning all the objects she could carry with her, like penicillin. Which was fine for Claire since she was a physician. Not so much for a college professor of Nordic studies.

  Even so, Kirstin found herself compiling a list in her head of what she would take if she were going back, not that she was actually considering such a ridiculous notion. It became a sort of game.

  Yes, a few photographs. One of her entire extended family taken last summer, all fifty-some of them. One of the Blue Dragon vineyard, with the house in the background. And pictures of a few other modern marvels.

  Some antibiotics and over-the-counter painkillers might come in handy, but they would run out eventually. Maybe she should research some primitive herbal remedies.

  Kirstin wasn’t much for make-up, but she’d always been embarrassed by her light eyelashes, which appeared nonexistent in some lights. So, a few mascara wands might come in handy. And flavored lip glosses, she thought with a smile; Hauk would get a kick out of those. She’d missed having a mirror, but she couldn’t lug such a fragile item through time, and she wasn’t out to change history, or anything, with modern inventions, but a compact one might be possible.

  Maybe an old-fashioned self-winding wrist watch, rather than a battery one, would be helpful. Jewelry itself held no appeal for her, and she didn’t have much of it, anyway.

  Underwear! Absolutely, several sets of underwear, and maybe some fabrics and elastic and fasteners to make more. But, no, she shouldn’t do anything to alter history.

  Tampons would be so convenient, and she wondered if she brought some as samples whether primitive ones could be made. And even though she wasn’t much of a gardener, she could take packets of seeds, all kind of vegetables. Her father would know which would grow there.

  She even researched methods for making soap with rudimentary materials, like ash, the way people of that time period already did. She also learned how to add scents to soap.

  She had to remind herself that this was all just a game, not something she was actually considering.

  But then one day, her brother Kolbein, the priest, came to visit. While they had a few moments alone when her father had to meet with a distributor and Angela started dinner, they decided to walk around the property for exercise. It was chilly…it was, after all, December, even if it was northern California…and they both wore fleece jackets.

  “Will you be here for Christmas?” Kolbein asked.

  The question surprised her. “Where else would I be?”

  He raised his eyebrows at her.

  “Kolbein! You of all people have to believe that my return here was an act of God.”

  He shrugged. “Probably, but that doesn’t mean you can’t go back if you really want to, God willing.”

  “I can’t believe you are even suggesting such a thing.”

  “It’s obvious that you’re miserable.”

  “I thought I was doing a good job of hiding it.”

  “Pff! Let me ask you a private question, sister. When you were in the past with your husband…and, yes, I refer to him as your husband…weren’t you afraid of getting pregnant? Wouldn’t that have precluded you from coming back? I doubt you would have taken the chance if you carried a child.”

  “None of this was my doing, the going or coming back,” she reminded him. Or my not being pregnant. I was playing Russian Roulette with sex, and I knew it. “It was all God’s doing, or so we’ve always believed when it came to our time-travel experiences, Kolbein. That’s why I say God must have intended me to return to the future.”

  Kolbein considered her words as they continued to walk. Finally, he seemed to come to some conclusion, and he stopped to look at her. “Has it occurred to you that God deliberately kept pregnancy from you…even when you returned, and still could have carried Hauk’s seed…so that you would be free to return. I doubt you would ever risk taking a child on such a trip. The choice is all yours. God is all about free will.”

  Kirstin felt a wave of dizziness pass over her.

  Should I go back?

  Can I go back?

  “Maybe we should both pray,” Kolbein advised.

  They did. On their knees, even.

  That night, for the first time since her return, Kirstin dreamed about Hauk again. He was not in the cage, of course, but he was not happy. The loving expression she’d last seen on his face was no longer there. Instead, he flashed her a forbidding scowl. Was that a sign that she should go back, that he needed her, or a sign that he no longer wanted her?

  She did not know.

  Chapter 22

  Dashing through the snow…

  Hauk was having a good time at the moment, which surprised him. He wasn’t happy, or even contented, not all of the time, leastways, but he was mostly all right with his world. For a certainty, he was no longer mooning about like an orphan calf, as Frida had once accused.

  Speaking of his opinionated cook, he had to give her credit for the wonderful job she’d done preparing for the Jul season. Signe, too. His keep had never appeared better, and the vast array of foods he’d seen when passing through the kitchen would equal that in any royal household.

  In essence, he was proud to be the jarl of Haukshire, something he’d never expected when growing up, or during the years he’d deliberately stayed away. Mayha
p it was something related to what Egil had said to him yestereve, “All evidence of yer father living here are gone. ’Tis yours now, not his.”

  In any case, he walked into his great hall, where the three center hearths blazed with warmth, and the walls and tables were festooned with red-berried holly and evergreen boughs tied with ribbons of many colors he’d found for Signe in the treasure room. Mistletoe hung here and there in remembrance of the death of Baldr, killed by an arrow made of mistletoe. The tears of Baldr’s mother supposedly turned the red mistletoe berries to white, forevermore. A ceiling-high pine tree stood in one corner decorated with small carved wooden statues of various gods, candles, ribbons, and bits of hardy food strung together, like dried apples and nuts. A huge wreath hung on the wall behind the high dais.

  The air even smelled festive.

  Several massive yule logs, with their carved runic symbols, lay at the ready. The logs would burn for the twelve yule days, representing light, despite the darkness outside, and hope for the end of long winter nights.

  He went up and checked the low table, which remained still below the dais, even though the need for it was no longer there, with Zoya gone. He needed to see if everything was ready for the wedding to be performed this evening, not that he hadn’t checked twice before. Yea, laid out on the white cloth were Thorkel’s short sword, Heart Stabber, a bowl of grains, a small knife, a cup of wine, a polished stone, a hammer, and a leather thong. Oh, wait, there should be some coins. He dug into the leather pouch which hung from his belt and pulled out five silver pieces which he set on the table.

  Hauk had to admit to being nervous about the words he would have to speak to seal the wedding vows. Mayhap he should go seek Thorkel to see if he was nervous, too, for different reasons. Hauk looked forward to teasing the longtime bachelor.

  But wait. He heard a clatter outside the front double doors of the keep, which were rarely used, followed by the sound of voices. Oh, gods! He hoped Signe hadn’t convinced Thorkel that he should put a row of yule decoration on the roof line all around the keep, as she’d threatened. She was the one who had gone a bit barmy with her decorating of his hall, even putting boughs in the garderobe. But outside? Nay, he had to put a stop to this madness. With the iced-over snow, the lovesick fool could fall and break his neck, and Signe would be without a groom for her wedding.

  But then he heard the neighing of horses, and knew it was something else. His guests had arrived. Hauk had half hoped that Ingolf’s party would not be coming, since they hadn’t arrived when expected two days ago. Alas!

  “Bjorn!” he hollered at the top of his lungs.

  “Holy Thor! I’m right here,” Bjorn complained, pretending to knock his ears which were presumably blocked at the loudness of Hauk’s voice.

  Hauk hadn’t realized that his son was on this side of the hall, behind a pillar, playing the board game hnefatafl with Floki, a warrior-in-training of about the same age. He’d thought the boy was in the adjoining weapon room polishing a sword he’d given him as an early yule gift.

  “Sorry,” Hauk said. “Come, help me greet our guests.”

  Reluctantly, Bjorn ended his game and came up to stand beside Hauk. He could swear the boy had grown half a head taller, just since they’d been at Haukshire. He was growing into a handsome Viking and would soon be shaving that blond fuzz on his face, or leaving it to grow into a beard.

  Together, they each opened a door and stepped outside. Thankfully, his men had dug out a wide space on this front courtyard, and kept the steps clear. Standing on the threshold, he put his hand on Bjorn’s shoulder. “Behave,” he warned under his breath. Bjorn was of an age when betimes he let out inappropriate remarks and thought them funny, especially if his friends were around. Same went for inappropriately timed body sounds.

  “Who? Me?” he said, fluttering his blond eyelashes.

  Hauk just smiled, and turned his attention to the scene before him—an open sleigh with seating for four, pulled by two matched white horses. There were also four guardsmen riding handsome mounts.

  Ingolf got down first, hopping with ease off the high riding board. The last time Hauk had seen Ingolf, he’d been a young man, and his father the jarl. He was in his fifties now, a graybeard. But he’d aged well. His white plaited hair and forked beard were well-tended, his body still tall and straight, all of which were enhanced by his fine clothing…a fox-lined, long cloak and polished black knee boots.

  “Welcome, Jarl Ingolf,” Hauk said, stepping forward.

  “Hauksson,” Ingolf said, meeting Hauk with extended arms which clasped his shoulders. “It is good to see you again.”

  “I understand my former steward Halfdan took refuge with you.” Hauk wanted to get that issue out of the way right off.

  “Hah! That wily weasel! I soon put him on his way. Last I heard, he was in Kauptang.” Ingolf gave him a steady, assessing gaze and added, “I want no enmity between our clans. Yea, I have coveted some of your lands, but mostly it was because they had been so neglected. I mean no offense, but your father was not a good landowner.”

  Hauk nodded, even though he knew Ingolf was feeding him a load of dragon shit. Even so, he could play the game. “No offense taken. Hopefully, we will deal well with each other, now that I am in residence.” He hoped Ingolf got the hidden message in his hospitable words, Beware or suffer the consequences.

  Ingolf helped his wife and daughters down from the sleigh then and introductions were made all around. His wife, Revna, was much younger than her husband, probably in her late thirties, with flaming red hair, diminutive in form under a gray sable cloak. Hauk did not know if Revna was a second wife, considering the difference in ages, but then many older men preferred young spouses. More introductions were made, and many “Happy Yule” greetings exchanged. The two daughters, Gisela and Gertrud, were dark-haired and similar in appearance to their father, probably born of Ingolf’s first wife. They could be no more than thirteen and fourteen. Thorkel had to be mistaken that Ingolf wanted a match between Hauk and one of his daughters. In fact, Bjorn was gawking at the younger one like she was a goddess vision come to life.

  Thorkel and some men came up then to lead the sleigh and the other horses to the barns out back. Everyone else walked up into his keep while Ingolf’s men carried trunks into the bedchambers being given over for their use. At the number of trunks, Hauk wondered how long they intended to stay, but he did his best to be hospitable.

  He could tell that Ingolf was surprised at how well his hall looked. Hauk was thankful now that Signe had taken so much care with the decorations.

  Had Ingolf expected Hauk to have been as careless as his father in tending his home?

  Probably.

  At least with all this company and busyness, Hauk would have no time to think about She Who He No Longer Mentioned or allowed to be mentioned.

  What to do, what to do?...

  It was two weeks before Christmas, normally her favorite season of the year, but Kirsten couldn’t get into the spirit. Just the opposite. Every Christmas carol heard on her car radio, every Christmas decoration she saw in stores, every greeting of “Happy Holidays” drove her deeper into a pit of depression. Occasionally, she burst into a bout of weeping, without warning. She tried to hide it from her family, probably to no avail.

  Her brothers and sisters tried to help. Lida wanted her to come to New York to see her Broadway show and meet a hot actor who was dying to meet her. Yeah! Ha, ha, ha! Storvald said that a special holiday program was being held at Rosestead, which she would love. Plus, there was a hot Maine lobsterman who was dying to meet her. Yeah! Ha, ha, ha! Marie wanted her to come skiing in Colorado. And meet this hot chef who was dying to meet her. Yeah! Ha, ha, ha! On and on they went. It was funny, really, but a bit sad that she was so pathetic.

  “I’m going into the village today for a little Christmas shopping,” Angela said now. “Would you like to go with me?”

  “Sure,” Kirstin said, but her heart wasn’t in it. At least An
gela wasn’t mentioning any hot guy dying to meet her. Meanwhile, for the rest of the morning, she worked in the den on her thesis. All of her experiences those months in the past were proving invaluable in tweaking her thesis. It was a hundred times better. Pleased with the revisions, she hoped to present the proposal to her advisor soon. After that, it would go to her doctoral committee for review. Several weeks after that, she would defend her dissertation. Probably not until January or February, at the earliest.

  She returned late that afternoon with a loaded shopping bag. She and her siblings didn’t spend much on Christmas gifts, just small presents with some meaning. The latest Magnolia Table cookbook for Marie, a coffee table art book for Dagny, a Mead of the Month Club membership for her father, squirt guns for the kids, those kinds of things.

  Angela was in the kitchen preparing dinner, a pot roast with mashed potatoes to satisfy her father’s manly appetite, Angela said. Kirstin had offered to help, but Angela demurred, preferring to work on her own. So, Kirstin was in the den again, but now watching a season of Outlander, the same one, for about the tenth time.

  Her father came in and sat on the hassock at her feet. Taking both of her hands in his, after glancing with raised eyebrows at the same old television show he’d noticed her glomming, he said, “I think it’s time, don’t you, sweetling?”

  She cocked her head to the side. “For what?”

  “To decide what you’re going to do.”

  Kirstin’s heart began to beat rapidly, especially at the somber expression on her father’s face. “What do you mean?”

  “Go back, my dearling daughter.” He sighed deeply, and she could swear he had tears in his eyes. “It pains me deeply to lose you again, this time probably forever, but I think you need to go back to your husband.”

  Dum, dum, dee, dum…

  Hauk stood on the lower level, with his back to the high dais where Ingolf and his family, along with Bjorn and Egil, sat, waiting for the wedding ceremony and feast to begin. Thorkel and Signe in their wedding finery stood on either side of him close to the table.