by Lily Byrne
*
“What were you doing yesterday?” Kjartan asked when he met Lini at the shelter.
“I could ask you the same, falling over like that,” Lini teased, cuddling up to him. “The Jarl wants some more drinking glasses and he wanted to talk to me about them. He wants twenty of them because it’s the first Harvest Blot with his new wife and he wants to impress her. I’ve never been asked for so many before. It’ll make a change from the bloody beads. Those endless beads!”
The next week hurried by, harvesting the hay, which was coming to an end now, chopping wood for the winter and shearing the sheep took up most of the time, but at last the main harvest was beginning. The cereal grasses had to be cut and tied into sheaves, and the fruit from the orchard and berries from the hedgerows gathered.
Lini took part in all these activities, his glass making work not important enough to exclude him. And Kjartan, of course, had Huskarl duty and they both still ran the fighting school. Time seemed to be speeding up. The only breathing spaces they enjoyed were visits to their secret hideaway in the woods, where they could forget about their wives and children and their tasks. They spent as much time as they could with each other, and it was as if they were magically protected from discovery or unhappiness as no-one found out.
During that week, the Danes celebrated Lithasblot, the first harvest blot, or feast. Now everything else was being harvested: sustaining wheat, barley, rye, oats, sweet apples, pears, plums, cherries, nourishing cabbages, onions, peas, beans, sun ripened strawberries, sloes, rose hips, bilberries, blackberries. It was time to enjoy the surplus and celebrate the abundance of the season.
Lini attended the feast with his wife and children, but Kjartan came alone, as the heavily pregnant Mildrith had been excused. He sat away from his lover so they wouldn’t give their secret away, but so many times his glance wandered over to him.
The earthy, tangy smells of cooking meat and vegetables made everyone sit up at the table, talking excitedly with mouths watering in anticipation of full bellies.
When at last the women served the food, silence fell - apart from the odd comment - as everyone savoured the tender pork and beef, moist with rich meaty juices, and chicken cooked slowly in a sauce so it melted in the mouth. People began talking with their mouths full, belching with appreciation, laughing at each other.
Kjartan sneaked a look at Lini, who was eating a chicken leg and smiling at his daughter, Thora, while pushing his hair out of his eyes impatiently. The warrior’s feelings swirled in his mind, part anxiety at the thought of becoming a father soon, part lust at the sight of the smooth skin on his lover’s neck that he’d kissed so many times, part frustration that he couldn’t just go over to him and declare his feelings in front of everyone. He took a swig of specially brewed mead, its honey-sweet flavour making his tongue tingle.
The heat of the fire prompted guests to take off their shoes and the cheesy odour of sweat filtered through the feasting hall, mixing with the meat and spicy sauce smells.
Jarl Thorvald banged on the table with his fist.
“We are here to give thanks to Ertha for her bountiful harvest! Drink with me!” He raised his horn of mead, followed by all the men at the table, who shouted with delight.
“Bring forth the second course!” The Jarl smiled at his new wife Rachel, with the black curls and dark eyes, and raised his drink to her.
Kjartan risked another glance at Lini. Had he just winked, or did he have something in his eye? Not wanting to stare, he watched the cooks bearing the specially prepared breads that had been enriched with milk and eggs, and pastries decorated with seasonal flower heads of fennel, radish and sage. The guests fell on the food as if they hadn’t just eaten a generous meat course.
Lini chewed on a pie crust, its crumbly texture contrasting with the bitter taste of the radish flower garnish. His two children were dozing now, far too young to be up so late, but it was a special evening, and important to appease the harvest gods and make sure no villager went hungry. His wife was nattering to her neighbour, all gasps and giggles at the secrets they shared about friends and foes.
He looked over to Kjartan, who was cutting into a pastry with his knife. Creamy sauce oozed out from the chicken and vegetable filling, and the blond warrior tasted it with his finger. Lini smiled, thinking of their secret meetings, then Kjartan looked up and grinned, making his heart miss a beat.
A panpipe toot interrupted them, luckily, and the musician began to play a lively tune, accompanied by another plucking a lyre. The drunken, sated guests gasped, then laughed and a few threw gnawed bones at the performers.
After people finished eating, they staggered to the dance floor, some falling over, some embracing, some actually dancing. No one started a particular dance, they just vaguely moved to the music, and many couples took the opportunity for a kiss, a cuddle and more, lost in the middle of swaying bodies and not caring if they were observed.
Lini caught Kjartan’s eye again and gave a very slight jerk of his head towards the door. Hoping no one had seen this, Kjartan slowly got up and moved among the dancers, gradually picking his way through them, avoiding various groping hands and inebriated friends telling him they loved him.
He slipped out into the night, which was cool and not yet completely dark. The sky was indigo with hints of stars showing in the remains of the sunset.
“Psst!”
His head snapped round to see a tuft of light brown hair peeping round the side of a house. It quickly moved out of sight.
Hastening over there, he jumped behind the house to find Lini, as he’d expected, waiting for him.
Without speaking, he pushed him back against the wall and kissed him. They were in shadow between houses and there was no one about.
The hot taste of Lini was a release and his senses leapt into awareness as he pressed himself against the lean body of the amber smith. Kissing each other as if they’d never kissed before, it was a while before they could stop for breath, panting.
“We better not spend too long out here,” said Kjartan, and Lini smiled ruefully.
“We’ll have to wait a bit before we go back in.” With a giggle, he indicated the bulges in their trousers.
“How terrible.” Kjartan kissed him again but eventually they forced themselves to stop, knowing the consequences if anyone caught them. They sneaked back into the hall separately, making sure no one saw them together.
Lithasblot continued, the music and dancers merging into a blur as the guests drank more ale and mead, no-one aware of the lovers meeting outside. Then again, blots were always times for secret trysts.
At the end of the night, Kjartan staggered home to his wife, merriness tempered with regret, soothed by his time with Lini and the knowledge he could see him any time.
Lini carried his son home and Halldora carried their daughter. No one had guessed his secret; he’d been well fed and watered and had a taste of his lover without any repercussions. Perhaps they were indeed magically protected from harm.
*
One evening, however, Kjartan went back to his home for supper, and the house was deserted.
“Your wife’s at her aunt’s. She’s having your baby,” said the next door neighbour, pursing her lips disapprovingly. Kjartan slammed the front door and hurried off.
When he reached Aunt Ymma’s home, he heard pained groans from inside and bit his lip. How selfish he had been, spending all his time making love to Lini while Mildrith needed him more.
He paced up and down outside until eventually he heard a baby’s cry and murmured voices.
The door opened and a midwife looked out. “There you are. I hope you’re proud of yourself. She was scared stupid.” She glared at him. “You should have been there, then I could have come round and she could have had the baby in comfort in her own home.”
“Sorry. I was - it’s none of your business where I was.” He pushed past her to see his wife lying in bed nursing a tiny, wet-haired baby. Mildrith looked pale a
nd drawn, but smiled weakly when she saw him.
He flung himself down to kneel next to her.
“I’m so, so sorry. I should have helped you.” He gazed in awe at the baby’s tiny fingers.
“It’s a girl. We’ll call her Dalla.” Mildrith was too tired to argue so Kjartan nodded guiltily.
*
The new baby kept her parents awake every night for the next few weeks. They felt tired all the time, with no respite, even though the midwives visited every day to check up on mother and daughter. Kjartan was helping with the crop harvest now, which meant long days working dawn until dusk. Then, when he got home, his sleep was always broken by the crying baby, but at least as she grew, she cried less each night.
And the endless stream of visitors tired the couple even more.
“It’ll get better,” said Aelfwyn reassuringly, with her brood of three children round her ankles. Alvi was one winter and two summers old and Kjartan found it hard not to shout at him as he threw everything onto the floor.
“Yes,” said Ragnar, holding one of his twin baby daughters, Asta, while Bebbe, their adopted daughter, held Signy. The babies were nearly one winter old. “She’ll sleep better in a few weeks’ time.”
Kjartan sighed. Was this what he really wanted? He’d always been a loner, but recently liked the idea of settling down. Now he didn’t want anything but sleep and peace.
*
One evening there was a knock at the door and Lini’s caramel hair appeared round it. His eyes met Kjartan’s, who stepped towards him, then hesitated.
“We’re here to see the baby.” Halldora’s strident tones preceded her appearance as she squeezed through the doorway, inquisitive eyes and rosy apple cheeks. Thora and Kori skipped round her.
“Hallo,” said Mildrith, nursing Dalla.
“You look well,” said Halldora. “Your hair seems to be darker these days. Sometimes that happens after you have a baby. Can I hold her?” She held her arms out imperiously and Mildrith could not refuse.
Lini’s eyes flicked between the baby and Kjartan.
“We could have another baby, couldn’t we?” said Halldora, “especially as you’re now sleeping in my bed again. Lini, pay attention!”
“Sorry.” He’d been gazing at his lover, imagining his muscly chest under his tunic, the battle scars he’d counted and kissed.
“I hardly used to see him, he was so elusive,” continued his wife. “But lately he’s been around more.”
“Oh, Kjartan was like that for a while -” began Mildrith.
“Something to drink?” interrupted her husband. “We’ve got ale or mead.” He clattered the cups around noisily.
“I’ve been making lots of amber beads recently,” added Lini. “I’m going to make a necklace for you as a present, but it isn’t finished quite yet.” He too was working with the harvesters. Every last man, woman and child was needed to bring in the crops in time.
“Oh, that’s kind. Thank you.” Mildrith smiled and he smiled back. After she turned back to Dalla, he glanced at Kjartan whose face was set in an expression of jealousy. Lini wondered which of them he was jealous about.
“He never finishes anything these days,” said Halldora. “He’s always in a world of his own.” She carried on her monologue about the shortcomings of her husband in an affectionate tone.
“I need to get more water from the stream,” said Kjartan in a strangled voice.
“I’ll help you.” Lini took the opportunity and followed him.
When they were far enough away from the house, Kjartan spoke.
“Odin’s eye, that woman! She doesn’t appreciate you. She rambles on about what a terrible husband you are. She says …”
“I’m used to it. Shut up now.” Lini pushed him into the undergrowth, into the guelder rose leaves that were beginning to turn to autumn yellow, their red berries swelling enticingly. He landed on top of him, arms and legs all over the place, kissing him like an overexcited puppy, making Kjartan smile so much he could hardly kiss him back.
“I’ve missed you,” Lini said at last. “I didn’t know where you were, but luckily Halldora heard about your baby, so I guessed.”
“I’ve really missed you. It’s been like hell. No sleep, the baby crying all the time, yet we still have to carry on as normal. I’m so tired.”
“Yes, I’ve been there, mjaldr. It’ll get better, you’ll get used to it.” He stroked Kjartan’s long flaxen plait, which was more unkempt than usual. “I know! Let’s go to the shelter and just sleep. You can get a break from the baby.”
“What about Mildrith, though? She can’t look after Dalla on her own.”
“Can’t her aunt or cousins help out?”
“I suppose so.” Kjartan’s eyelids were drooping already, so Lini took his buckets and filled them with water, leaving him dozing in the bushes. It was quite amusing really. He tiptoed back to the house with the water, not realising a pair of eyes had been watching their whole encounter.
As Lini walked out of view, Styrkar emerged from his hiding place and slunk away. His patience had paid off. Keeping an eye on his Huskarl tormentor had indeed led him to find out something he could use against him. This would teach that white-haired fiend to humiliate him at training. He smiled to himself. He’d known there was something going on between him and the gorgeous amber smith. Two men together - how disgusting and perverted. The way they’d pressed their bodies against each other like that, their cocks must have rubbed up against each other … Styrkar had to stop and lean on a tree to catch his breath as he was panting thinking about the scene he’d witnessed. He must have been walking too fast. How long was it since he’d fucked a woman? He must get one right now.
*
“Where’s my daddy?” Halldora waved Dalla’s little arm as she sat holding her in the largest chair. Mildrith had to sit on the bench.
Lini laughed. “He’s asleep. He was so tired he fell asleep in the bushes.”
The women laughed.
“He’s hopeless sometimes,” said Mildrith. “Let’s leave him there.”
“Can your aunt or cousins come round and help you with Dalla tonight? You both need a break.”
“I’ll ask,” said Halldora. “I know them.”
Lini smiled to himself. He’d known his wife would take charge of organising.
*
Later that night, when Lini and Halldora had gone and Kjartan’s wife and daughter were asleep, he stumbled out to the shelter in the woods to meet Lini, and they kissed for a long time, enjoying rediscovering the taste and feel of each other, undressing and pulling the bearskin covers over them.
“I need sleep, tregul, I’m sorry.” Kjartan snuggled down, wrapping his arms round Lini’s lean body. The amber smith couldn’t sleep, however, his erection prodding at his lover’s leg after so many weeks of frustration, but he’d have to wait a bit longer.
When they woke, birds sang exultantly and the dawn sunlight peeped through the gaps in the branches.
“Morning.” Lini leant over as the frost blue eyes fluttered open. Kjartan instinctively pulled him into an embrace before he was properly awake. It was only when Lini started making strangled noises he realised he was holding him too tightly.
“You’ll be the death of me one day,” Lini gasped, smiling and trying to catch his breath at the same time. They gazed at each other admiringly.
“I’ve - missed you - so much,” Lini said between kissing his mouth, neck, collarbone.
“So I see. Or feel.” He grabbed his lover’s cock, making him jump and bite him on the shoulder. He seized Lini’s hair, pulling his face closer, kissing him, thrusting his tongue deep into his mouth, their naked bodies pushing urgently against each other, sticking together with sweat.
Kjartan slowly rolled them over so he was on top, still kissing Lini, pinning him down, pushing his cock against him, trying not to thrust but it was difficult, his hand caressing Lini’s hip, moving round his buttock, squeezing the muscle.
&n
bsp; Lini stopped kissing him for a minute.
“What?” The pale blue eyes opened, gazing into his.
“You want to fuck me like I’m a woman.” Lini tensed slightly, breath coming in gasps.
“We could try it. You’ll like it.” Memories of the slave’s arousing groans echoed in Kjartan’s mind. He wanted to make Lini feel like that. “It’ll feel good for both, not just me.”
“But what about afterwards? You’ll just cast me aside.” He propped himself up on one elbow, eyes serious, nervous. “Like a woman or slave or prisoner, worth nothing.”
“Of course I won’t!”
“If people found out I’d taken the woman’s part …” He shrugged, making his chest and abdominal muscles ripple down their long tanned length.
Kjartan gulped. “Well, they won’t!” he snapped, more fiercely than he meant to. “I’ll never tell them!”
“So you’re ashamed of me?”
“No! I just - want you.” He stroked his lover’s hip again, down over his thigh to his balls, teasing them with a light touch.
“Very well.” Lini gave a small smile.
Kjartan took a tallow candle from its holder.
“Where are you going to put that?”
“Not where you think.” He squeezed it in his hand and it melted with the heat of his body. Lini was transfixed staring as his lover rubbed the melted wax over his finger. He moved his hand slowly between Lini’s legs and gently pushed the finger inside him, making him gasp and tense.
“Don’t. Relax.” He pushed it inside further, all the while kissing Lini’s neck and chest softly.
“That - feels - strange,” he gasped. Strange was the wrong word, but he couldn’t think of the right one. His whole body was quivering, his mind slowing down.
“It won’t in a minute.” Kjartan took his finger out, melted some more candle in his hand and stroked it onto his cock, gazing into his lover’s sapphire eyes.
He slowly moved on top of Lini, pushing his slippery cock inside him, bit by bit. After a moment Lini whimpered, so he stopped at once, keeping his lower body still but all the while kissing him and stroking him, his hair falling in Lini’s face. He changed position slightly then pushed again, and Lini gave a surprised groan, his whole body jumping into alertness as if ready for one of his running races, trembling and hot.
