by Lily Byrne
“No! I know you didn’t!”
They gazed at each other, hearts pounding, then Lini stepped forward and kissed him hard, pushing him backwards. Kjartan sagged against a tree. All he could feel were those lips, that tongue, that body declaring it wanted him.
“Shall we go to the shelter? More -more private,” said Kjartan, stuttering with lust.
Lini nodded and they hurried off.
Reaching their den, they’d hardly got through the door before they were ripping each other’s clothes off, Kjartan pushing Lini back onto the bearskin bed, kissing him deeply, their naked, sweaty muscles rubbing against each other.
Lini was overwhelmed by the concentrated essence of him, unwashed in the dirty prison for the last few days. He breathed in the spicy, musky smell and felt lightheaded.
“I stink, don’t I?” said Kjartan, pausing between kisses.
“I don’t care.” Lini kissed him quickly, taking advantage of his hesitation, twining his fingers in the white-blond hair, despite its tangled state.
Kjartan hesitated. “You’re shaking.”
“Yeah, sorry, I …” He looked away, biting his lip.
Kjartan rolled off him, onto his side and studied him. “We don’t have to do it. As long as I’ve got you with me, I don’t care about anything else …”
“Can I tell you something?” The words burst out of Lini in a rush.
“Anything.” He stroked the honey-coloured hair.
“Styrkar wanted me. I saw it in his eyes.”
Kjartan frowned.
“I just had to tell someone. He wanted to hurt me because he liked me, I don’t know …” He chewed his lip more.
“It’s no excuse for what he did to you.”
Lini paused a long time, idly playing with his lover’s long blond plait.
“I’m glad I killed that bastard.”
“Me too. Come here.” Kjartan held him tightly. “I’ll never let anyone hurt you again. I’ll always be there.”
They kissed gently. Lini stroked his back, feeling the familiar scars, and couldn’t stop a tear running down his cheek as they gazed into each other’s eyes.
“I can’t believe you’d - you were going to let yourself be killed to save me, just because I was too stubborn to talk to you.”
“I thought you’d be the one killed when you stood up at the trial. But it’s over now, so forget it.”
“I’ll try.”
“But what you mustn’t forget is that I love you.”
“I love you too.” He reached down and Kjartan gasped, shuddered and caught his breath. Then he hugged him, ran his hand down the lean, tanned body and squeezed him in return.
“Stay there,” said Kjartan, turning so his head was nearer the amber smith’s feet.
“I’m not going anywhere,” said Lini with a smile.
Kjartan replaced his hand with his mouth, the wet softness making Lini quickly lose control, his seed bursting out in a greater rush than usual. Shuddering with pleasure, he lay back and put his hands behind his head, grinning.
The warrior sat up and winked at him, running a hand through his short hair.
“I must love you. I just nearly broke my neck doing that.” He moved his head around to ease the stiffness and Lini laughed.
Kjartan lay down and cuddled up to him. “I like you calling me mjaldr. Forgot to tell you.”
“Well, it suits you. White tomcat.” He stroked the ash-blond hair, half enviously.
“Yours will grow again.”
“Let’s go to sleep. I’m exhausted.”
So they pulled the bearskins over themselves, snuggled down and it was only a few minutes before they were both snoring.
*
Back at the house, Mildrith was feeding Dalla, wondering if she would have any more children one day. Maybe that time with Lini had made her pregnant. She smiled at the thought.
After a knock on the door, a jolly red face peered round.
“Hallo, Finn. Come in.”
“Hallo. How are you getting on?”
“Kjartan just escaped punishment for murder! And so did Lini, so I’m happy!”
“Oh, how was that?”
She explained, as the news of Lini’s rape would be all over the villages now, so there was no point keeping it secret.
“That’s terrible.” Finn’s mouth hung open in shock. “About the rape, I mean. It sounds like justice was done otherwise.”
She smiled. “Could you get yourself a drink? I’m a bit busy.” She shifted Dalla to her other breast, noticing Finn’s interest. He turned away quickly to look for the cups.
“Halldora’s relented about the children,” he said, his back to her as he poured ale for them both.
“Oh yes?”
“I came to tell Lini that she says he can see them as long as he goes to her house. She doesn’t want them coming here.”
“To a house of ill repute,” giggled Mildrith. “How about you? Lini told me your wife wasn’t happy with you.”
“She still isn’t. I’m not good enough for her. I’m only the son of a ceorl, she’s the daughter of a thegn.” He sighed.
“Why did she marry you, then?”
“She wanted children but we haven’t had any. Well, we did but they died before they were born.”
“Oh, Finn. I’m so sorry. Stay here and chat while you wait for Lini to come back.”
So he did.
*
Waking up after a satisfied sleep, Lini felt safe against Kjartan’s broad chest. His familiar peppery, spicy smell was reassuring.
“I’ve had an idea,” said Kjartan.
“Oh no …” he laughed.
“Shut up. Why don’t we go and live in Byrnham? They want a glass smith, so you’d make a good living. And Mildrith wants to go back to her family.”
“Yes, but what would you do?”
“I’m not sure. I don’t want to ever go back to the Huskarls. Maybe I could train the English to fight …”
“Now there’s an idea.” He fiddled with the hair on Kjartan’s chest, still amazed at its pale colour. He’d never stop marvelling at his blondness.
*
“What the hell’s been going on while I’ve been away?” Bjarni undid his horse’s saddle, patting the faithful, mud-splattered creature on the shoulder. “Has Kjartan murdered someone again?”
“No. Well, not exactly. He just got rid of the body.” Ragnar chewed his lip, thinking how to explain, as he held the reins. “What have you heard?”
“I heard there was a trial for the murder of Styrkar a few days ago, but Kjartan was found innocent and Lini Fleet Foot found guilty. What I want to know is why would Lini murder Styrkar?”
Ragnar took a deep breath. “It’s hard to understand, so listen. Lini now lives with Kjartan and Mildrith. Styrkar raped Lini so he killed him. Kjartan tried to bury Styrkar’s body but it didn’t sink properly.”
“What? Slow down. Styrkar raped Lini? Why?”
“To punish him for being sansorthinn by Kjartan.”
“What? Lini and Kjartan are – are …” Bjarni screwed up his nose. “That’s - that’s - is he Kjartan’s slave now, or did they have a fight and Kjartan defeated him?”
“No! It wasn’t like that. They love each other.” Ragnar found it hard to say the words. “As man and wife, I suppose.”
Bjarni paused for a long time, frowning. The horse whinnied and he continued grooming him.
“That’s just - it’s just unnatural.”
“Remember how Kjartan saved me and Aelfwyn’s lives last year, and so many others. So we shouldn’t scorn him.”
“But what about Lini? If he takes the woman’s role, he should be cast out.”
“He killed Styrkar to defend his honour. And I know he had sex with Mildrith, so it’s complicated. Your wife said it’s usual behaviour for men to love each other in her country.”
“Ifay said - so there wasn’t a fight?” He was still frowning.
“No.” Sometim
es, Ragnar wished his best friend was just a little sharper. “Kjartan, Lini and Mildrith just all live together. It’s best to simply accept it, I think. I’d rather have Kjartan as a friend than an enemy. He’s less likely to kill me.”
Bjarni shrugged. “That’s true.”
“The point is, Styrkar shouldn’t have raped Lini, who regained his honour by killing him. So no one lost his honour completely.”
“Alright. Anyway, did I tell you about the northern lands of the Jarl? So different to here.”
“No. Tell me, please. Talk about better things.”
*
“I’m lucky, aren’t I?” said Mildrith to Finn a week later. She was packing up Dalla’s clothes, getting ready to move house.
“Are you?”
“Yes. I’m moving nearer my family into a bigger house with my child, my husband and my friend.”
“That’s one way of looking at it.” He rocked Dalla as she dozed in his arms.
“Isn’t it the only way? The widow Hilda marries again and moves in with her new husband, and my family gets her house. It’s perfect.”
“But you’ll be living with Lini and Kjartan, and always be the odd one out. And anyway, how will I be able to stop by for a chat if you go all the way to Byrnham?” His face was redder than usual.
“You can come and visit anytime.”
He caught her eye and sighed. “It won’t be the same.”
“You must come round every week. For supper. Or lunch. The men are always out working in the day time, and I’ll need some company.”
He smiled broadly. “I could come and mill some of the grain to give you a rest. I don’t have to be ploughing all the time, as it’s nearly done.”
“And I could do with help working the loom sometimes.” She smiled back.
*
At the same time, Jarl Thorvald was holding a meeting of the Huskarls. The low, ominous rain clouds matched his frowning expression.
“You may have noticed that Kjartan has not returned to the company. I can understand why, as he has been subject to much harassment lately.”
The Huskarls shuffled uncomfortably, especially the followers of Styrkar. Ragnar glared at them and so did Bjarni, who had returned from his duties.
“Not only that, but he and his family have left Hallby, including of course, Lini Johansson, the glass and amber smith, also known as Fleet Foot.”
The warriors sniggered.
“Quiet!” barked Steinar. “You’re in enough trouble!”
“So I just wanted to congratulate you all on such an efficient job,” continued the Jarl coldly. “Not only have you made an experienced warrior leave us and start battle training the English men, you have also caused our village to lose a highly regarded and talented craftsman. So well done to you.”
The red-faced Huskarls looked at their boots. The cold wind blew the first shards of rain into their faces, making them blink uncomfortably.
Ragnar suppressed a smirk and rolled his eyes at Bjarni. The Jarl had never sounded so sarcastic.
*
Lini was washing down the inside wall of the new house, whistling to himself. He looked round at the expanse of now clean wattle, pleased with his progress. This house was bigger than the one in Hallby but the widow hadn’t taken much care maintaining it, so there was a lot of work to be done.
Kjartan walked in, his arms full of clattering pots and pans from the old house.
“Oh, hallo.” Lini’s tunic was soaked and clinging to his chest as he’d been working in his usual enthusiastic way. The coldness of the day hadn’t put him off getting wet; he was used to weather. “You going to help me, or just stand there with your tongue hanging out?”
Kjartan put the pots and pans down and went over to him but quick as a flash, Lini splashed him with water from the pail.
“Oi!” He splashed him back.
“Can’t hurt me. I’m drenched already.” He splashed Kjartan again. “You’re supposed to be helping.”
“I’ll help you, but only if you take your tunic off.”
“I will, if you take yours off.”
“You first.”
Lini began slowly pulling the edge of his tunic up to reveal his stomach muscles.
“Or maybe I won’t. It’s chilly today.” He let it drop again, smirking.
“You tease! Take it off.” Kjartan smiled.
Lini started again, even more slowly, but at last it came off. So Kjartan began to take his off, wondering if he could take even longer. They were laughing now, posing and showing off. He’d just thrown it onto the floor when someone knocked on the door.
“Good morning,” said Bjarni politely. He’d been lectured by his wife on not being rude to their friends, and anyway he didn’t want Kjartan killing him. Ifay followed with their baby.
He noticed both men were laughing.
“What’s so funny?”
“Nothing,” they chorused.
“Good to see you again,” said Kjartan. “Had fun on your adventures?”
Before he could answer, Ragnar, Aelfwyn and their children arrived.
“So, you said you wanted help moving the furniture,” Ragnar said. “Where do we start?”
“We haven’t moved any yet. It’s still in Hallby,” explained Kjartan. “Mildrith and Finn are still packing up.”
“So what are we waiting for?”
Ragnar and Bjarni took off their cloaks and rolled up their sleeves.
“Come on, then.” Kjartan led them out of the door. “Thanks.”
“Yes, thanks,” added Lini. “It’ll be done in no time now we’ve got so many friends to help.”
He exchanged smiles with Kjartan.
THE END
Author’s Notes on Homosexuality in Viking times
Gunnora Hallakarva, the researcher behind the website Viking Answer Lady www.vikinganswerlady.com/gayvik.shtml says:
The needs of agricultural / pastoral living require reproduction not only to work the farm but also to provide support for the parent in old age, (so) it was expected that no matter what one’s affectional preferences were, each individual would marry and reproduce.
The idea of living as an exclusively homosexual person did not exist in most cultures until present-day Western civilization. One’s sexual partners mattered little so long as one married, had children, and conformed at least on the surface, to societal norms.
The attitude that homosexual usage of an enemy was a means of humiliation would have weighed heavily against men in homosexual relationships: if it was a shameful humiliation of an enemy, performing intercourse with a beloved friend would have been regarded as the worst sort of betrayal.
It seems that before the thirteenth century, gay relationships in Britain were not disapproved of, although this is debatable:
www.randomhistory.com/history-of-gay-marriage.html:
It was in the thirteenth century, however, that the first laws against sodomy emerged and began to be enforced. Through the next several centuries in the West, all manner of behaviour deemed deviant or unnatural began to be condemned, causing a shift from the earlier belief that same-sex unions were ‘problematic’ because they were interpreted as unnatural to the belief that same-sex unions were a serious threat to society - and, like heretics, witches, and Jews, practitioners of such unions were violently repelled.
Glossary
Argr (adj) = (of a man) to be effeminate, cowardly or womanly.
Blot (n)= literally ‘blood’ or sacrifice, but means feast or celebration.
Ceorls (n)= freemen (but not as free as Thegns), farmers and independent landed householders.
Deorling (n)= darling, literally ‘deer-ling or little deer.’
Ergi (n) = an effeminate, cowardly or womanly man.
Huskarls (n)= the Jarl’s soldier regiment, often acting as his bodyguard. The correct plural is Huskarlr but that’s confusing.
Jarl (n)= the highest ranking Dane, like an Earl.
Ketta (n)= kitten.
Mjaldr (n)= white tomcat.
Quern (n)= a hand mill. Two stones sat one upon the other, with the top stone riding on an axle that sits astride a small piece of wood called a ‘rynd’. The top stone is rotated against the lower stone with a handle. The grain is placed into a hole in the centre of the top stone, and as it is ground, the flour runs out from the seam between the two stones.
Sansorthinn (n) Sansorthinnr (plural)= demonstrably sexually used by another man.
Scop (n)= Anglo Saxon story teller.
Seax (n)= a knife carried by warriors to defend themselves. Many different types and sizes.
Skald (n)= Viking story teller.
Thegn (n)= Anglo Saxon landowners, in service to the local Jarl or Earl. Duties included military service, the repair of fortresses and bridges.
The Thing (n)= the governing assembly in Germanic societies, made up of the free people of the community and presided by law sayers.
Tregul (n)= amber, tree treacle.
Verrdrepa (n)= mankiller.
