Page 102 of The Caged Viking

As she trudged across the lawn, her cloak weighed her down even more than she’d expected, especially when her father had insisted on her taking a half dozen grapevines wrapped in wet paper towels inside a giant Ziplock bag. In the end, he’d even shoved a palm-sized, metal flashlight in her hand, in case it was dark where she landed.

It wasn’t just her cloak that weighed her down. Her heart was heavy with both sadness, knowing all those she was leaving behind, but also with hope for what awaited her back at Haukshire.

When she got to the pond, she sat on a rock and arranged her cloak around her. Closing her eyes, she tucked the small flashlight under the rounded neckline of her gown, under her bra, then crossed her arms and clasped the arm rings, trying to picture the place at Haukshire where her time travel occurred. The flat mossy ground. The remnants of summer flowers, drying or dead. The fjord a short distance away.

Nothing happened.

She closed her eyes and tried again.

Again nothing.

She checked her watch. Only a half hour had passed. And she realized that she hadn’t visited the bathroom before coming out here. So, trudging back up the lawn to the house, she saw her father and Angela peeking out the window, apparently heeding her warning not to come looking for her.

“Sorry. Have to pee,” she said to the two of them, gaping at her silently as she passed by. It was a chore taking off the heavy cloak, and lifting the long gown, but finally she was done and trudging across the lawn again. Her father and stepmother hadn’t said a word as she passed.

It was past ten o’clock when she resumed her position by the pond. She yawned, then yawned again, and no wonder. She hadn’t slept much at all last night. She should have had a cup of coffee. A half hour more and many, many yawns, found Kirstin back at the house asking Angela for a cup of black coffee. She chugged it down quickly, even though she wasn’t particularly fond of the beverage, and definitely not without sugar or milk.

“Maybe you should wait for another day,” her father suggested when she set the empty cup on the counter.

“No, no! It took me long enough to decide to do this. I can’t just stop.”

“How long…” her father started to ask, but Angela nudged him with an elbow, whispering, “Shhh.”

Thus it was almost noon when Kirstin found herself back by the pond. This time she knelt and closed her eyes, saying a prayer, except her hands were holding onto the arm rings, instead of pressing them together in a prayerful attitude. “Dear God, please help me in this hour of my need,” she repeated over and over. Again, nothing.

Just then as she bent forward, rocking in prayer, she felt the flashlight slip out of her gown, and it fell to the ground. Stretching out her arms to catch it as it rolled away toward the pond, she fell, flat on her face, the smell of moss and damp earth heavy in her nostrils. As she held onto the flashlight and pulled it toward her, it managed somehow to strike one of the arm rings. She felt a sparking kind of vibration, starting at the arm ring, then rippling like an electric shock up her arm, down through her body, and hitting all her extremities. Stunned, she slid halfway into the pond, wetting her head and shoulders down to her breasts.

Somehow, she managed to get out of the water and into a sitting position. But she felt dizzy, kind of.

“Oh, my God!” she muttered, blinking rapidly, as she saw stars, or was it snowflakes?

And then everything went black.

* * *

You’ve heard of the legendary Christmas Visitor…

It had been snowing steadily all day. Even so, Hauk and Ingolf had been walking about the estate, wanting to escape the stuffiness of the great hall and the fussiness of the women preparing for the evening yule feast. Besides, this being the longest night of the year, there would only be an hour or so of light today.

“Is that the bridegroom?” Ingolf asked with a chuckle.

“Appears so,” Hauk said.

He and Ingolf had been amused earlier, at the noon meal, to note that the newly married couple hadn’t emerged yet. Must have come up for air, or food, because he saw now that Thorkel was out with some men making sure that all the paths remained cleared. Must be that he hadn’t expended all his energy in the bedplay if he was doing such energetic work now. Leastways, Hauk would use that notion to tease him later when they sat down over mead.

“What is it about us men that we let women lead us by the nose…or rather the cock…into wedlock?” Ingolf commented idly. “The key part of the word being lock, if truth be told.”

“You have a poor opinion of marriage,” Hauk replied. “Has your experience been so bad?”

Ingolf shrugged. “My first wife, who died after breeding me two daughters and no sons, was a living nightmare. Never stopped complaining. A shrew she was.”

“And your present wife? She does not seem so bad.”

“She’s not, but then Revna is too young to have developed such bad habits. Best to train them early, if we must wed at all. But we have been wed for two years now, and not a babe in sight. Mayhap she is barren.”

“Would you put her aside for that reason?”

“Possibly. If I am not to gain any heirs, and Revna brings no lands, well, I would just as well be alone, without the burdens of a wife. Bed partners are available easily enough.” He glanced at Hauk. “You disapprove? I would think your experience with marriage would have turned you against it, too.”