The Viking Deception

by J. Robert Kennedy

  He smiled, and she could see the love in his eyes, feel it in his hands as he cupped her face in them, the skin rough from a life hard lived. “Then we can’t let this happen.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”

  His voice became earnest as he leaned closer. “You must come with me when I leave.”

  Her eyes widened. “You’re mad!”

  He chuckled. “That may be, but it is your love that drives me mad, and I cannot live knowing you are with another man, a man whom you despise.”

  She shook her head, her eyes still wide. “But if I go with you, then my family will pursue us. It could mean war!”

  Magnus grunted. “I don’t fear war, and your family will find that we Vikings are not to be trifled with.”

  She patted his chest, shaking her head with finality. “No, I can’t have people dying because of me. It would be selfish, and an abomination in the eyes of Allah.” She drew a slow breath, exhaling loudly. “Though I hate what my father has done, I still love him, as I love my mother and my brother, all of whom support this arrangement. To run away would be to dishonor them, and to see them die because of my actions, would be unbearable.” She frowned, grasping his hands in hers. “I fear our destinies lie apart, my love, and there is nothing we can do about it.”

  Magnus held her tight, saying nothing, as they shared one last moment together. She would miss this, and she’d never find this feeling in the arms of the elder sheik, in the arms of a stranger that would take her into his bed for a business deal.

  “What if I told you there was a way?”

  She closed her eyes. “Then I would say that this is a dream, for I cannot fathom any solution to our situation.”

  He held her out, staring into her eyes, his smile melting her to her core. “Do you trust me?”

  “With my life, you know that!”

  His smile broadened. “Are you willing to sacrifice ever seeing your family again to be with me?”

  The question was something she hadn’t expected, something until a moment ago she had never considered an answer to. To never see her family again was something simply unfathomable. They were her life. They were everything she knew.

  Yet once she married, she would return with her new husband to his home outside Mecca, and the chances of ever seeing her family again were slim. Perhaps she might see them a few more times in her life if there were a purpose, but the prospect of seeing them fewer times than could be counted on her fingers was devastating. Could she sacrifice the possibility of seeing them a few last times, over the course of her entire life, for one far happier all the other days? She closed her eyes, her heart hammering at her decision.

  “I am.”

  He drew a breath, his chest expanding as she saw the relief spread throughout him. “Then trust me now. Go to your family, pretend you are happy with the arrangement, but be prepared to act when you receive my message.”

  She nodded, his instructions suddenly making this very real.

  It terrified her.

  He held up a finger, his expression becoming serious. “Pack nothing. Take nothing. No one must suspect you planned on leaving. Understood?”

  She acknowledged him with a trembling nod. “I-I do, but what do you have planned?”

  He grabbed her, holding her tight to his chest as his voice cracked. “A way for us to be together for the rest of our lives, and for your family to never know.”

  3 |

  Outside Sigtuna, Sweden Present Day

  Professor Viggo Karlsson leaned back in his chair, the laptop in front of him showing a picture of a runestone they had discovered only this week, zoomed in on the final line of tightly clustered characters. His yellow ruled notebook, filled with chicken scratches and doodles, contained a quick translation of the ancient Norse inscription.

  “Done?”

  He flinched, forgetting he wasn’t alone, his top student, Elsa Andersson, sitting across from him in the tight quarters provided by a trailer set up on the dig site. They had been here every day for weeks, excavating an ancient Viking burial ground north of Stockholm that preliminary estimates suggested dated around the turn of the first millennium. It was an exciting find under normal circumstances, but these weren’t normal.

  For they had found an anomaly, an anomaly that couldn’t be easily explained. His hope was that the runestone discovered with the aberration could give at least context to what they had found.

  His stomach growled.

  “Did I forget to eat?”

  Elsa tilted her head toward the microwave. “Yes. Do you want me to reheat what you left in there over an hour ago?”

  He chuckled. “Would you?”

  She rose, hitting the Express button, the microwave kicking in to excite the molecules constituting his forgotten pasta lunch. “So, what does it say?”

  “It’s a recipe for penne alfredo.”

  “Huh?”

  The microwave beeped and she pulled his lunch out. She gave him a look, holding up the thin box. “Penne alfredo.”

  He snickered. “Exactly. The translation worked up an appetite, so…”

  “It’s a recipe for it. Got it. You know, Professor, you’re not exactly funny.”

  He shrugged, attacking his forgotten pasta, then his thermos filled with a smoothie concoction his wife had prepared this morning in the hopes of helping him eat a little better and get his cholesterol under control.

  Cholesterol. I’ll die from natural causes before those numbers kill me.

  He wiped his mouth clean with a napkin, then tossed the empty box in the garbage can behind him. “I think I’m hysterical, so if you want to get your PhD, you’ll best laugh at my jokes.”

  Elsa regarded him for a moment. “You’re an ass.”

  He grinned. “I am, aren’t I? But don’t tell my wife. She thinks she’s cured me of my youth.”

  Elsa held a hand up. “I swear, your secret is safe with me.” She pointed at his chicken scratches. “So, what does it say?”

  He cleared his throat, leaning closer to the pad. “Now, this is very rough, but it appears to be a tombstone of sorts, marking the final resting place of Prince Magnus Hamundarson, and his wife Fatima Halabi.”

  Elsa’s eyes narrowed. “Fatima Halabi?”

  He nodded. “Yes. It was a phonetic translation, obviously, and I did make a bit of a logic leap based upon what was found on her.”

  “I think your leap will be forgiven, Professor. There’s little doubt of its origin, and if you’re right about her name, little doubt of where she came from.”

  He had to agree with his student, though he wasn’t willing to commit to their interpretation of what they had found just yet. “We’ll do DNA testing to confirm their ancestry, but I think we can safely say we have found a member of Viking royalty, along with his wife. His Muslim wife.”

  Elsa leaned back in her chair, shaking her head. “This is unbelievable. I never thought this could be possible. To be honest, until I took your class, I never knew the Vikings had any contact with Islam. I always thought they were in the north, and the Muslims were in the south.”

  “True for the most part, though our ancestors were known to have sacked cities as far down the Atlantic coast as modern-day Spain, where the Muslims had established their Caliphate. As you know, Muslims ruled much of the Iberian Peninsula until they were finally driven out in 1492. Before that, our Viking forebears not only invaded, but traded extensively.”

  Elsa gestured toward the dig outside. “What do you think happened? This Viking prince fell in love on one of these trade missions? Or did he take her as his thrall then force her into marriage?”

  Karlsson frowned. “I doubt we’ll ever know. We’re lucky to have found the runestone to know as much as we do. If it weren’t for that, there’s no way we’d know they were married, or what their names were. Instead, we’d simply have the burnt remains of him, and hers buried with him, left to wonder what could have possibly put these two completely differen
t individuals together in their final resting places.” He stared at the runestone sitting on a nearby work table. “You know who would love this?”

  Elsa shrugged. “Who?”

  “Jim Acton.”

  “Who?”

  “You don’t know who Professor James Acton is?”

  She shrugged again. “Should I?”

  “Yes, you should. Google him, or whatever it is you kids do, then feel shame for your ignorance.”

  She stuck her tongue out at him then pulled out her phone, her thumb tapping away. “If I don’t know who he is, it’s only because you didn’t bother to teach me about him.”

  He smiled at her as he dialed his old friend. “You’ve got me there.” His call was picked up on the third ring.

  “Hello?”

  He smiled as he recognized Acton’s voice, despite it being years since he’d heard it. “Hi, Jim, Viggo Karlsson here.”

  “Viggo, you old dog, is that you?”

  Karlsson’s smile broadened. “It is, it is. How are you, my old friend?”

  “Excellent. You?”

  “Fantastic.”

  “To what do I owe the pleasure? You sound excited about something.”

  Karlsson grunted. “Is it that obvious?”

  “You sound like you just had another kid.” There was a pause. “You didn’t, did you?”

  Karlsson chuckled. “I’m a little too old to be starting over. But I am excited about something, something I think you’d enjoy seeing.”

  “What?”

  “A ring.”

  “A ring? As in one ring to rule them all?”

  Karlsson paused. “Excuse me?”

  “Never mind, just my inner geek being channeled, though you do need to get out more, Viggo.”

  “My wife keeps saying the same thing.”

  “So, what’s this ring you’ve found? What’s so special about it?”

  Karlsson picked it up from the table, holding it up to the light. “I found it on the finger of a woman that was buried alongside a Viking prince almost a thousand years ago.”

  “Oh? That’s not odd. What is it you aren’t telling me?”

  “You’re right, it’s not odd, but there’s more.”

  “I knew it.”

  He smiled at the eagerness he now detected in Acton’s voice. “There was a runestone near the grave.”

  “And being an expert, you translated it.”

  “I have. Roughly. I’ll delve deeper into it now that I have the gist, but I have names.”

  “Yes?”

  “Prince Magnus Hamundarson, and his wife, Fatima Halabi.”

  There was a burst of static as a quick breath was drawn on the other end of the line. “Fatima? Are you sure?”

  “Yes.”

  “Not exactly a Viking name, now is it?”

  “Not at all.”

  “That’s an Arabic name.”

  “It is.”

  “Are you suggesting a Viking married an Arab?”

  Karlsson smiled. “I am. And I can get even more specific than that.”

  Acton groaned. “You’re killing me, Viggo! Spill it!”

  He chuckled. “There was an inscription on the ring.”

  “What did it say?”

  “For Allah.”

  “I’ll be there tomorrow.”

  4 |

  Al Lixbuna, Islamic Iberia Caliphate of Córdoba 989 AD

  Fatima forced a smile. Her family was clearly ecstatic about the upcoming wedding. She was marrying upward, and that could help drag her family slightly higher on the social scale. The dowry she was receiving was satisfactory, though with her position as Sheik Al-Musawi’s fourth wife, it wasn’t substantial, indicative of how little value her future husband felt she brought to the pairing.

  She was certain the same amount could have secured her the position of first wife to a family of equal stature to her own, but as she had learned in her short life, women were commodities to be bartered, and if it weren’t for Magnus, she might be happy to play her part in improving her family’s station.

  But she wasn’t, and it was tearing her apart.

  She loved her family with all her heart. Her father was a good man, a hardworking man, a man with a respectable business trading goods throughout the Caliphate. She loved her mother and all her siblings, especially her little sister Samira.

  Oh, how I would miss you!

  She didn’t know what Magnus’ plan was, but he was powerful among the Vikings. She knew little of them, and the prospect of perhaps spending the rest of her days among them was terrifying, though with Magnus’ love, she would adapt, and learn how to fit in with his people.

  But the cold!

  It was something she couldn’t fathom. Magnus had spoken of how cold it was for much of the year, and when she had compared it to the desert night, he had laughed. He had failed miserably at explaining snow to her, something she had only seen at the top of mountains, and never at her feet. It sounded fascinating, and she did look forward to seeing it.

  But to be cold for the rest of her life?

  “That’s what fires are for.” He had grinned. “And there are ways to warm each other.”

  They had made love, Magnus warming her to her core, and she ached for more nights like that, cold or not.

  Yet she still feared whether she could fit in with them. They were so different. Their skin was whiter than any she had seen, most had hair so golden, she longed for her own dark hair to someday be as blond.

  I wonder if living there will change it.

  Where her family was from, everyone had dark hair, dark eyes, dark skin—though not as dark as some she had seen from the African continent. When her father had moved them from their homeland to Iberia where the end of the trade route he used to transport his goods was located, she hadn’t been happy about it. Yet once she discovered there was land beyond the desert, she had embraced their new home.

  It was incredible here, and she loved it. As the years passed, her memories of home faded, and with it the harshness was forgotten. At times she did wish to see it again. The friends she had left behind, and the extended family, were dearly missed.

  She sighed. That would be one advantage of marrying Sheik Al-Musawi. She would be returning closer to home. And though it meant leaving all her family here behind, their elevated position could, perhaps one day, allow them to return and enjoy the fruits of their labor, reunited once again.

  And how many years will that be?

  But at least she would have the chance.

  If her beloved Magnus was correct, and he had a way for them to be together, then it had to mean leaving everything she had ever known and loved behind, and traveling to the frigid lands these strange Vikings called home.

  And what would she do there? She knew only a smattering of words, most of which couldn’t be repeated in public. Magnus spoke very passable Arabic, facilitating trade between their peoples, but none of the others spoke it, meaning he might be the only one she would have to talk to.

  You’ll learn.

  And she would. After all, she had quickly mastered the local tongue upon their arrival here, so Norse would merely be a matter of time.

  Are you really considering this?

  She stared out the window she sat in front of, the sunbaked city she had called home most of her life spread out before her, the ocean in the distance a sparkling blue, a storm on the horizon. Could she leave all this? She glanced over at her family, entertaining her future husband who had paid little attention to her beyond the obligatory greeting. Could she leave all of them?

  Her shoulders rolled inward and shook.

  Keep it together, otherwise the others will ask questions.

  She drew a deep breath, forcing her shoulders back. She stared across the room, her family and friends of her parents gathered, smiles and laughter punctuating the telling of stories and exploits, her future husband the guest of honor and center of attention. He was decades her senior. Far more than
the twenty years she had been told, and she wondered if her father had been as surprised as she was. Their greetings suggested they had never met each other, and the very idea her father would marry her off to a complete stranger had hurt her.

  She regarded the man, a frown creasing her face as she did so. His skin was mottled with scars and pockmarks, and his teeth were black and rotting. His clothes were as fine as any she had ever seen, and he was undoubtedly wealthy, yet he appeared a pig of a man, and she couldn’t picture ever giving herself to him.

  Not willingly.

  Not as she had with Magnus.

  She tingled with the memory.

  It had been forbidden, dangerous, and because of it, all the more thrilling. She had given her virgin self to him willingly, and he had shown her how wonderful the act of love could be between those who truly had feelings for each other.

  She shuddered as she wondered how the sheik would react when he discovered she wasn’t a virgin on their wedding night.

  He’ll kill you.

  She had heard of childhood accidents, and a myriad of possibilities played out in her head as she tried to settle on one that was believable, though none seemed plausible. Could it be that those stories she had heard were all lies to cover up the truth?

  She wondered what her mother would say if she were to tell her. Would she tell her father, risking the death of her daughter for dishonoring the family, or would she come up with a tale to tell should the discovery be made, a tale she would back.

  None of that would matter if you left with Magnus.

  This was true, though she didn’t want to leave to escape her problems. She wanted to leave because she loved the man she was leaving with, and wanted to spend the rest of her life with him, to have his babies, to raise those children to be adults, to be Vikings.

  She frowned.

  I wonder what color their hair will be.

  She paused with a troubling thought.