The Viking Maiden Box Set

by Kelly N. Jane

  There was a lot of laughing and conversation above her, but she could still hear the quacks of ducks among the reeds on the shoreline. The smell of a pear tree in full spring bloom hinted at her nose. She inhaled, long and deep, but instead of smelling flowers, the scent of the fish stored in the barrels surrounding her flooded her senses.

  The excited butterflies turned into honeybees, jostled from their nest and angry. Another jolt from the oars, another waft of smells, this time the sour milk barrels. She squeezed her eyes tight and clamped her hand over her mouth. The last thing she wanted to do was throw up in such tight quarters. The confinement closed in on her, sweat rolled down the side of her face, and her body trembled.

  “Ingrid, stop holding your breath and blow out, slowly, through your mouth,” Selby whisper-screamed.

  She did, but that just made her stomach more restless, and the back corners of her mouth tingled with more saliva.

  “Picture yourself floating on your back, letting the sun warm you, like we do when we go swimming.”

  Selby tried to help, but Ingrid couldn’t listen. It took all of her effort to calm the storm raging in her middle. She opened her eyes, but slammed them closed again. With only enough warning to lean over as far as she could, out flew the bees in an angry horde.

  Shaking and clammy all over, she felt like her insides had been wrung like a wet rag. One more heave, then she sat limp with her head hanging between her knees. Pangs of regret washed over her, and she wished she could lie down in her bed at home.

  We shouldn’t have done this. What was I thinking? Now we’re stuck under here.

  Ingrid battled her stomach and her conscience until her exhaustion won.

  Disoriented, she woke with a start some time later.

  It took a second to remember where she was, but then the gentle, rocking rhythm of the boat cradled her nerves. The thrust of the oars was gone, which meant they must be under sail. Selby grunted from her left.

  “Are you ok?” Ingrid whispered to her hoarsely. Her throat was thick, like she’d swallowed a burning twig.

  “I need to get out of here. Do you think it’s been long enough?” Selby answered.

  “I think we’re under sail now.”

  Selby nodded her head in agreement. “Let’s go, then.”

  Ingrid felt stuck; she couldn’t feel her legs, and wasn’t sure how to unfold herself. Pushing forward onto her hands and knees, she was thankful she had thrown up away from where she needed to crawl out.

  Inch by inch, the girls squished between the crates and kegs until they could see filtered light. Seeing the terrified look on Selby’s face, Ingrid guessed it matched her own, and she reached out, giving her friend’s hand a squeeze of false reassurance.

  Leaving their packs for the moment, they crawled out into the open air . . . right smack into a pair of leather boots, worn by one angry Norseman.

  “What is this?” a voice bellowed.

  Ingrid cringed at the tone, immediately recognizing her father’s deep timbre. Strong hands grabbed her arms and pulled her to a standing position, but she struggled to feel her legs. Rather than crumple to the ground, however, she was lifted high. Eye to eye with her father, his stare was like lightning bolts into her brain. A vein at his temple pulsed at the same speed as Ingrid’s racing heart.

  “What are you doing here?” he growled between his teeth, his lip curled up on one side.

  “I . . . we . . .” Ingrid’s throat was so tight, she couldn’t get the words out.

  “We?” Klaus turned and saw Selby propped up by one of his men. He inhaled deeply and closed his eyes for a second before stepping toward the platform. Ingrid’s legs dangled over the edge when he sat her down.

  He turned and walked away, and the man holding Selby deposited her next to Ingrid.

  “Don’t move, if you know what’s good for you,” he said looking at each of them.

  They both nodded, not saying a word. Every man on the boat glowered in their direction. Ingrid lowered her eyes into her lap. She heard footsteps coming toward her and closed her eyes.

  “I specifically forbade you to come when we talked yesterday. Why would you disobey me and put yourself in this kind of danger? Look at me, Ingrid!”

  Her body jerked as Klaus yelled.

  “I wanted to prove I was brave enough to be a warrior,” she said. Her voice was hoarse, but she looked up and met his eyes.

  She couldn’t remember hearing him raise his voice at her before. Tightness squeezed her chest, but she sat up straighter, and gathered every ounce of courage to hold his stare.

  “Which one of you came up with this plan?” He turned his head to look at Selby. “Was it you?”

  Selby’s lips trembled, and her face turned ashen white as she stared wide-eyed at Klaus without answering.

  “It was my idea, Papa,” Ingrid said, her voice stronger than the last time. “I persuaded her to come along.”

  “And I’m sure that was hard to do. How long did it take before the two of you decided to have a grand adventure?” Ingrid knew better than to think he wanted an answer. “How long have you been under there?” This time he did expect an answer.

  “We climbed in while everyone was still singing.”

  He rubbed his hand on his face and looked up to the sky. Walking away, he braced his arms on the rail, and stared out toward the shoreline. Ingrid’s heart was racing so hard as she watched his back; the pounding in her ears covered any sound. Klaus motioned over his shoulder for her to join him. She rolled over, slid to her feet, and stumbled her way to his side at the rail.

  “I should put you on Rolf’s boat and make him take you home,” he said without looking at her. Ingrid held her breath. “We are going to a dangerous place to talk about dangerous things. You should not be here.”

  “Please let us stay. We won’t get in the way, and we’ll be helpful to you. I know it was wrong, and I’m sorry for disobeying you, but . . . please, Papa. Let me do this.” Fixated on his face, she squared her feet and pushed her shoulders back, the muscles rigid in her arms as she held them tight to her sides.

  “This ship is no place for a child,” he yelled.

  “I am not a child. It’s time you stopped looking at me as one. I’m here now, and I won’t go back.” Swallowing hard, she struggled to keep her lips from wobbling and her knees from buckling trying to be as brave as she hoped she sounded.

  Klaus rubbed the back of his neck. “Your mother is going to kill me when she finds out I let you stay.”

  Ingrid sucked in her lip and bit down on it to keep herself from smiling—not successfully. “She’ll be fine when we’re back home and sees that we’re safe.”

  Klaus turned to face her. “So say you. It’s not your hide that will be missing some parts.” He smirked. “Go sit down by the bow and stay out of the way.”

  A broad grin spread across her face that time, and it took all her willpower not to jump up and down.

  A snort from behind made her turn to the left, and she caught Jorg trying to stifle a smile of his own.

  She raised her chin and walked with as much dignity as she could on a moving boat. How do I get up to the platform without looking the fool?

  A wooden box half-protruded near the edge where Selby’s legs dangled. Ingrid stepped up as if it were a common daily occurrence, and settled next to her friend.

  “We get to stay,” she said with as calm a voice as possible, doing her best to keep her face neutral.

  A few seconds later, Selby nudged Ingrid with a shoulder, and she nudged her back. They both looked down at their laps while little giggles escaped.

  I’ll work on being mature later.

  5

  Several hours passed while the boat glided through the waters of the river.

  “I love this so much,” Selby said. There was a softness to her voice that surprised Ingrid.

  The river was wide enough that all three boats could sail even with each other, but they formed a V-shape, like migr
ating geese. Every now and then, water would spray over the bow as the current picked up and increased the rocking motion of the boat.

  From their position high on the platform, the girls could see the expanse of countryside beyond the dense brush of the shoreline. Feathery, green bracken, and clusters of yellow star flowers colored the landscape and gave the breeze a fresher, sweeter scent than it had back home. Birds trilled and crickets chirped.

  Ingrid spent most of her time distracted by the argument taking place in her stomach. A bustle of motion jostled her as Selby switched places and shoved her next to the rail.

  “Lean over the side. You’ll need to, if you stay that color of green much longer,” Selby said.

  “Thank you.”

  “If you look further away, toward the horizon, it will help your stomach to settle,” she added.

  “How do you know that?” Ingrid asked.

  “I’ve heard my uncle say it. He gets teased sometimes for the same problem.” Selby scanned the scenery again. “Look, over there. Two otters. Do you see them?”

  “Aw, they’re cute.”

  They were rolling and playing, sliding into the water and then back onto the shore, chasing each other.

  “I don’t think I’ll be content to stay home anymore after this,” Selby told her as they watched the creatures play. “I thought I wanted that before: a home, a family, a peaceful, quiet farm.”

  “Why haven’t you told me that before?” Since when did my warrior friend want to be a simple farmer?

  “I’ve never told anyone. My house is always loud and messy, so I have to be bold and fight for everything. I never have any time to myself. But out here . . . I didn’t know this existed.” She swept her arm in an arc to include the boat, the river, and the shore.

  “I’m not sure boats are my thing.” Ingrid breathed a laugh and then settled her gaze again on the horizon. “I’m so glad you came with me to see all of this.”

  “Me, too.”

  The rest of the afternoon drifted slowly by, with the occasional need for men to move the sail or shift some of the cargo. The girls talked or rested, learning that privacy would be a rare commodity on a ship full of men. As the sun started to stretch shadows across the water, Klaus gave an order to pull over to an expanse of shoreline where the brush was sparse.

  The lazy pace shifted immediately. As soon as the boats were secured on the shore, everyone sprang into action. There were extra sails to unload and use as tents, all the supplies needed for the evening meal, and blankets, bedding, and other sleeping essentials to arrange for everyone. No one was idle.

  Ingrid was given the task of helping prepare the fish. When she opened the lid to the large cask, a pungent smell of vinegar burned the small hairs in her nose. She had to ladle out enough for everyone and load the shimmering silver herring into two large pots. By the time she was finished, her sleeves and the front of her apron were soaked with the sour-smelling whey. Water leaked from her eyes, even though her nose had given up the battle for fresh air.

  She hauled buckets of water to and from the river—the fish would need to be rinsed several times before getting warmed in buttermilk to eat—then she hung a cauldron of skause from a tripod over the fire.

  The early evening air cooled down rapidly, and rosy-gold streaks of sunlight peeked out from the clouds. Ingrid had spotted a large patch of bilberry bushes not too far back along the river, so she grabbed a basket and went to collect some before darkness settled in. Her mouth watered at the prospect of a slab of bread covered in honey and berries. Selby had been recruited to help somewhere else, so Ingrid headed out to find them by herself.

  She had filled the basket with a couple handfuls of berries before she heard rustling among the grass in front of her, down by her feet. A small bird hurried over her toes. With a shriek, Ingrid jumped back, losing her grip on the basket, and before she could blink, a hand grabbed her arm, and she was hurled behind a dark figure.

  Squealing, she was engulfed by tall grasses as she landed on her knees in the mud. Dazed, confused, and frightened, she could make out the shape of a person, male, standing with his back to her.

  It was the lean body of Hagen, straightened up to his full height.

  Tightening her lips, she huffed and tried to push herself up, but her hands sank into the mud. Hagen turned around, holding something that made her body freeze and her eyes grow wide. Whether it was the thick, dung-like odor of the mud, or the oozing insides of the headless snake still quivering in Hagen’s hand that filled her nose, she didn’t know, but it made her queasy either way.

  The fragments of images came together, and she recalled the open mouth that lunged toward her foot a split-second before she flew backward. Hagen had thrown her to safety as he charged at whatever danger had scared her.

  Anger subsided into a mixture of fear and gratitude.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  He smirked at her, but before he could remark, she added, “I know it’s a snake. What kind, though?”

  “Oh, it’s just a grass snake,” he said. “I was trying to decide if it was worth trying to eat it.” A puzzled look crossed his face. It was big enough, for sure, considering the body filled Hagen’s large hand, where it hung like a slippery piece of thick rope.

  “Wouldn’t it make us sick?” Ingrid wrinkled her nose in disgust.

  “No.” He reached down and inserted his knife into the snake’s cut-off head. He gave it a solid toss, and the chunk sailed off the blade, far out into the deep of the river. “On second thought, I don’t think I want to eat anything that thought your scrawny foot looked like a tasty meal.” He chuckled.

  “A young plover scampered across my foot first.” She shuddered at the memory.

  Hagen snorted his understanding, and with a giant heave, flung the dead body far out into the lazy current. The momentum of the toss made the headless carcass twist into an “S” shape. For an instant, it looked as if it had come alive again before landing with a splat.

  “What are you doing out here?” Ingrid asked as she managed to stand.

  “I was following you. I thought we could talk, and I might have a little fun and knock you into the mud, but not like this. I’m sorry you were really afraid,” he said gently as he looked at all the mud she wore.

  “Hmm. Well, whatever, I guess you got your wish. It adds to the smell of herring.” She brushed at her clothes, but it did no good. “Why did you want to talk to me?”

  He looked down and kicked at the base of a clump of grass. Sighing, he said, “I’m angry that you’re here.”

  She stared at him. His shoulders were slumped a little and he was biting the inside of his cheek. He hadn’t shaved for a few days, and a small beard was growing along his jaw; it sparkled with red highlights in the waning sunlight. He did look handsome, if she was forced to admit it.

  “Why?” she asked finally.

  “Because this is my chance to show I’m a man. To prove myself. But now you’re here, like it’s some kind of shopping trip that we’re all going on for the fun of it. Father will be so distracted making sure you stay safe that he won’t even notice me.”

  “That’s not true. Besides, he already knows you’re a man. You’re right by his side whenever he talks to the others, and he slaps you on the back like you’re one of them. I’m his little baby girl, not capable of anything. I’m the one that needs to prove myself.”

  “You’re capable,” Hagen argued. He looked at her and shrugged. “Annoying, but able to take care of yourself.” He gave her a half-grin, which she responded to with a glare. “Truthfully, I’ve followed all the rules and done what I should. You’re my silly little sister who sings and dances around all the time, yet you had the guts to come out here, and to stand up for yourself.” He pressed his lips flat and shook his head. “All of my training in weapons, hunting, fishing, working on the boats, even in business dealings—is all so that I can learn how to be the leader after Father. Now you’re here, like it’s some s
ort of game.”

  Ingrid felt her mouth go slack, but couldn’t move to close it. He’s jealous of me? “You can’t be serious. You have nothing to prove.” She narrowed her eyes and peered sideways at him. “Except that you can stop picking on me.”

  He chuckled under his breath and bothered the mud with his foot. “You’re my pest of a sister, and you make yourself an easy target.” Ingrid bit her lip and forced the sting out of her eyes. “I’m sorry. I guess I haven’t realized that you are getting older, either. I’ll work on that.”

  “Humph.” Ingrid looked away, took a couple steps, and picked up her basket. “Will you get your friends to stop, too?”

  “Yeah. They’ll leave you alone if I tell them to.” Watching her for a moment, he sighed. “I haven’t noticed Jorg teasing you in a while.”

  Ingrid rolled her eyes, but didn’t know how she felt about that. “Tell him he should keep it that way, if he wants me to see him as a man I can respect someday.” She didn’t look at Hagen, surprised that she had said the words out loud.

  Her brother shot a quick glimpse sideways, trying to keep the grin off his face. “I’ll let him know.”

  A few seconds of silence followed, with neither of them looking at the other.

  “You have a tender heart,” Hagen said finally. “We will face dangers on this trip; promise me you’ll try to stay safe.”

  Ingrid fiddled with the basket handle, and kept her eyes on the ground. “I will. I’m stronger than you think, you know. I can be a shieldmaiden.”

  “I know. But this isn’t the village, where you can practice, and the dangers aren’t pretend. This is real, and you aren’t ready for it yet.”

  “I’m more ready than you think,” she snapped.

  “Don’t get all crabby. Just be careful.” He blew out a long sigh. “It’s getting dark. Forget about the berries; let’s go back.”

  The berries no longer sounded good to her anyway, so they started along the path toward camp.