Winter Solstice Winter - Book I in the Viking Blood Saga

The burial procession stood ready to start in the courtyard within the hour.

  “Not a single hair must be out of place!” Ada yelled, her beady eyes searching the line-up. “The queen’s spirit is waiting for us to make a mistake so she can remain here in Midgard and plague us. I am sure you would not want that blame on your heads, would you?” She encircled each wagon, each person, and each animal, as she passed them. Finally, after having checked everyone and everything, she nodded to King Olav at the front-end of the procession.

  Behind the king marched Bishop Peter, who was carrying the Bergendal crest ensign. Lucia particularly loved the vivid colors: blue, red and gold. The blue square, her father had drilled into her mind, represented Midgard’s four protecting Sentinors. The brown square represented the four corners of Midgard, and the red dragon holding the sword and torch signified freedom, balance, and light. The circle above the dragon’s head was half-navy and half-yellow, symbolizing the balance between light and dark. Her name meant light, so she had always thought of herself as a being of light.

  As they were walking down here, she had heard from Nora that Bishop Peter asked her father to be left out of the “barbaric,” in his opinion, sacrificial ceremony. The bishop had said he was a man of the Christian faith and had put aside his pagan beliefs and rituals. He had also said that his conscience dictated he not involve himself in these Norse burial ceremonies.

  Her father’s reply had been simple: if the bishop did not concede to be part of the burial, Olav would burn down the Bergendal Stave Church and banish Christianity from being taught in Bergendal. Bishop Peter had happily complied.

  “The Christian Bishop should not even be here. He is a bad omen,” Ada said, coming up to Lucia.

  Was he a bad omen? she wondered. Perhaps he was. Her mother had recently joined this cult, and she died. Did she die because she had turned her back on the true Norse gods? If that was the case, why had her father let Bishop Peter participate? Olav had never been a supporter of Christianity while his wife was alive, so why start now?

  Twelve deacons lined up in two rows, stood behind Bishop Peter. Dressed in white, silk robes with red sashes around their shoulders, they fit in as much as snow would on a scorching summer’s day.

  Behind the deacons was Queen Maud. She lay in her four-post bed, which was set in an open cart. Thousands of white and blue flowers blanketed the dray’s exterior, and four black stallions would pull the queen to her final resting place.

  King Olav and Vilda rode their horses behind the queen’s wagon, followed by two white oxen, which would be included as sacrifices in the grave.

  Behind the oxen, fourteen horses were individually hand-led by their own handmaiden. The horses would be ridden until exhaustion, and then sliced up and thrown into the burial with the deceased.

  Next came the last animal sacrifice, which were Queen Maud’s seven lundehund dogs. They were believed to possess the power to guide her back to Valhalla and ensure her a prosperous journey. Nora had been given the honor of leading the yelping hounds.

  Lastly, twelve of King Olav’s guards stood watch outside of the escorts’ wagon. To Lucia’s great dismay, she was to ride with Ada, Ragnvei, and Astrid to the burial. How could it be that she, the future queen was demoted to such a place? However, no matter how much she had vocalized her disapproval to her father, he refused to let her ride up at the front with him. He said he wanted to keep her safe, and that riding in the enclosed wagon, guarded by his four strongest men, would provide that safety.

  When Lucia entered the carriage, Ada handed the escorts golden goblets. She had heard of these hallucinogenic drinks and how they would allow the escorts to glance into the spirit world. Even though she desperately wanted to see her mother on the other side of the veil, she would not have taken a single sip had it been offered her. The sacred beverage was only reserved for those who would enter the kingdom of Valhalla, and she did not desire to partake of something forbidden in fear of awakening the gods’ wrath.

  Within seconds, Ragnvei had swallowed the goblet’s contents and pleaded for more. Ada quickly filled her cup again, a smile almost appearing on her lips.

  The ride in the carriage seemed like a never-ending journey to the valley of death as Lucia tried to ignore the others. However, it was near impossible not to notice how Ragnvei, sitting directly across from her, was fidgeting like an impatient two-year old. The handmaiden clenched her hands around the goblet as beads of sweat trickled down her forehead and she kept looking out the carriage every few seconds, her eyes raking the crowd of onlookers. Maybe she is still thinking there is a way out. The girl is a traitor.

  “Why are you not nervous?” Ragnvei finally asked Astrid, her voice slightly slurred now from the drink.

  “I have been blessed by the gods with peace in my soul. I am looking forward to escorting the queen back to Valhalla and to going there myself,” Astrid said, her words sounding like a chant.

  “So, you are not nervous?” Ragnvei asked, clenching her fists. When Astrid did not answer, she said, “You must be nervous. Tell me. Share with me your—”

  “Stop speaking!” Lucia wanted to focus on her mother—on trying to let her go—not on the cowardly handmaiden. Was that too much to ask?

  Ragnvei’s eyes grew large. “I am sorry, Your Highness.” She lowered her head and pinched her lips together.

  Finally, a moment of peace. She peered out the window and saw the skies lightning up in the distance. Thor was throwing his hammer again, sending a thunderstorm to Bergendal. It must be a sign that he is waiting for the queen’s spirit. That made her heart swell.

  Suddenly, she heard a swooshing sound, and just as she turned her head to see what the noise was, one of the guards fell lifeless to the ground with a thud. Before the other guards rushed in front of the wagon to protect their princess, she saw an ax embedded into the dead man’s cranium, half of his ear on one side and half on the other. She was able to shield her face before blood splattered onto it, but Ragnvei was not so fortunate. The handmaiden screamed as she tried to wipe the red liquid off her skin, smearing it in the process.

  “Ragnvei!” a deep voice yelled from the crowd.

  Ragnvei quieted down and her eyes searched the crowd through the wall of guards. She gasped. “Gunnar!”

  Ada flung the door to the carriage open and climbed out. “Stop the procession!” Unable to spot the perpetrator, she approached the guard closest to her. “Ivar! Find whoever did this and kill him!”

  “Yes, my lady.” Ivar stomped off in the direction the ax had come from.

  Ragnvei kept looking nervously around, and although the drink had made her eyes glazed with drunkenness, Lucia could see she was thinking hard.

  Perhaps Ada had not been too harsh on the girl and knew her type. “Do not dare to try and escape, for if you do, I will imprison you and torture you every day until I become queen,” Lucia said.

  Ragnvei’s face went ashen and she grew as still as Lucia imagined she would once her throat had been slit.

  Finally, after what seemed like a lifetime, Ivar returned.

  “Is he dead?” Ada asked, her voice flat and stern.

  “There will be no more trouble from Gunnar today,” Ivar said, wiping blood off his longsword. “He was after the handmaiden, not the princess.” He commanded the guards to return to their stations.

  Ragnvei’s face twisted with grief. “Oh Allfather, Allfather—” she repeated over and over, her body swaying back and forth, her hands bracing her chest.

  Ada stepped back into the carriage and slapped Ragnvei across the face. “Be quiet, or I will kill you here and now, you coward. This is a disaster! A living maredream has descended upon us! I cannot believe the disrespect you have for the queen and for the gods.”

  All of a sudden, Ragnvei’s eyebrows gathered in the center and her eyes darkened several shades. She leapt toward the door, flung it open, and fell head-first out of the wagon.

  Not missing a beat, Ivar knocked the runaway unc
onscious with the hilt of his longsword and lifted her back into her seat. Astrid closed her eyes and started humming. A single tear rolled down her cheek.

  Why cannot Ragnvei just accept her fate? Lucia thought as her hands wound tightly into fists. Certainly it would not do her mother any good to have an unwilling escort.

  As if knowing what Lucia was thinking, Ada said, “She will comply. Do not worry.”

  She doubted the Angel of Death’s prediction was correct, but there was nothing she could do to alter the situation.

  The procession was finally underway again and it was not long before they arrived at the Christian stave church. The queen’s wagon rolled up next to the giant longship, which had been completely immersed into the black, rich, and newly exposed soil. Lucia could smell the fresh earth and the smoke from the torches blazing over the platform. A black tent had been erected next to the platform, and it was the place where the escorts would be sacrificed.

  Ivar lifted Ragnvei out of the carriage and he, Lucia and Astrid followed the old crone to the far western side of the cemetery where the Valhalla doorway had been erected. The crowd wandered over with them, the excitement in the air palpable as they waited for the first ceremony to begin.

  Once he had laid her onto the grass, Ivar threw a bucket of water onto Ragnvei, awakening her.

  Ragnvei screamed as she stood up, swiping her face dry with her hands.

  “Drink,” Ada commanded her, handing her a gold, ruby-bejeweled goblet. Then, she spoke a chant while waving her hand across Ragnvei’s face. The girl froze where she stood, staring out into thin air, and after Ada had whispered something into her ear, Ragnvei inhaled deeply and drank from the goblet.

  Lucia stood next to Ada, but had no idea of what had just transpired. Whatever Ada said, it must have changed the handmaiden’s mind, because now Ragnvei smiled in a trancelike state, awaiting calmly the Angel of Death’s next command.

  “Valhalla is beyond that door,” Ada said, pointing to the wooden frame. “Men of Odin, servants of the most high gods, raise these escorts up so they may peer into the afterlife and see who awaits Queen Maud.”

  The guards lifted both girls up high into the air, so they could peer over the doorframe.

  “What do you see, oh, sanctified escorts?” Ada shouted.

  “I see the dead queen’s grandparents!” Astrid sang, her eyes wide with wonder. A few mumbles could be heard from the gathering.

  My grandparents? she thought, a bubble of excitement rising on the inside. She stepped closer to the door, hoping to catch a glimpse of them herself.

  The guards lowered the girls, and Ada bid them to sip from their goblets again. They both drank more, especially Ragnvei, Lucia saw. Again, the guards lifted the women up at Ada’s command.

  “Now what do you see?” Ada shouted.

  “I see all my relatives!” Ragnvei yelled. “I—I think I see my dead grandparents in the distance!” Her eyes squinted as she pointed toward the empty field.

  The guards lowered the escorts to the ground yet again, and Ada bid them drink one last time.

  What will they see now? she wondered. She swiped her hair away from her face, noting how the winds were picking up.

  Ragnvei stepped closer to Lucia. “My hands and feet are tingling,” she said, her body rocking back and forth. She laughed.

  Yet a third time, the guards lifted the handmaidens up into the air. The crowd had turned deathly silent, but suddenly a female voice in the back yelled, “Valhalla! Valhalla!”

  “And now, what do you see?” Ada asked.

  “Valhalla, Valhalla, Valhalla,” the crowd began to chant with the woman.

  “I see—I see—” Astrid said. “I see Queen Maud in the after world, beckoning for us to come to her!”

  “Let us go to her!” Ragnvei said, clasping her hand. “Paradise is green and beautiful.” Ragnvei started to cry. “My tears are tears of joy! I yearn to reunite with the queen and feel proud that I have been selected to help her on her journey to the gods.”

  “She is there!” Astrid said, looking over the tall doorpost. “She looks young and healthy, and has a babe, her unborn son, in her arms!”

  Even though Lucia desired nothing more than to see her mother and unborn brother, she restrained herself from climbing up the doorpost. Tears slipped down her cheeks, and her heart soared inside her bosom, realizing her mother would go home to the gods and would be waiting for her in the after life. It was a sure sign that this new religion, this new white savior was false. Her mother had come back to tell her to remain faithful to the Norse gods. Now that the escorts had seen it, she knew her faith was true.

  The guards lowered the two handmaidens.

  “It is time.” Ada smiled.

  As Lucia, Ragnvei, and Astrid made their way over to the grave, the people cheered them on. Lucia heard a clap of thunder, and looking up into the heavens, she could see the thunderstorm approaching.

  Ragnvei took Lucia’s hand in hers. “I have never felt like someone important, but now I feel like the most courageous handmaiden in all of Midgard.” She swayed and stumbled forward, singing a happy tune.

  At least Ragnvei seems at peace, but more importantly, the gods will be happy and my mother will have a new home. Almost at her mother’s grave, she saw her father and Vilda leaning over her mother. They were crying as they held onto each other in their grief. She could not help her tears from coming now, flowing like streams of agony down her face. She let go of Ragnvei’s hand, ran up to her father, and wrapped her arms around him.

  Ragnvei stopped in front of them. “I saw your queen, Your Highness, and she is more beautiful and healthy than ever. Your baby boy was with her, and all is well,” she said. Then she looked at Lucia. “Do not mourn, fair princess. Your mother will be in Valhalla soon. We will take her there safely today.”

  She nodded and gave her a hug. “Please tell her—I—uh, miss her,” she said, wiping the tears off her face.

  Ada grabbed Ragnvei by the arm and continued onward to the tent. Astrid followed closely behind them, laughing, swaying, and singing as she walked toward the place she was to be sacrificed.

  Does she realize she is on her way to her death? she thought she did. No wonder her mother had loved Astrid. She is brave and strong and true. If only all handmaidens could be like her.

  Once they arrived, Ada opened the flap and signaled for the escorts to enter the tent. She looked over at Lucia and waved for her to join them.

  Lucia looked up at her father. She had not thought she would actually have to participate in this part of the ceremony, although she would be brave if she needed to be. When she saw her father’s stern face, she knew the answer and started to walk over.

  “No, wait,” Olav said, grabbing her by the arm. “Wait until I tell you.”

  Ada turned to the multitude and addressed them. “Any man who desires may now enter and consummate these holy sacrifices with his seed.”

  The first man rose from the crowd and walked up to the tent door. Ada allowed him to enter, and only a moment later, Lucia heard a series of moans and grunts, followed by Ragnvei screaming in pleasure. The feisty wind gusted the tent door open, and for a split second, she saw the man standing between Ragnvei’s legs. He was thrusting his hips forward, and Ragnvei was clenching his hips, her expression that of pure ecstasy.

  Lucia felt her cheeks burn hot as the deepest part of her core clenched. She stared at the grass, hoping no one would notice how her body was coming to life, how she secretly desired to be the one being taken.

  She had never known a man, and would not until she married Soren, although she often wondered what it would be like to be with a man in this way. This ritual happened at every burial. The seed of the man and the woman was the way into this life, and it would give Maud new life and prosperity in the world hereafter.

  However, it was the first time she had witnessed this ceremony, and she did not know what to think of the intense sensation between her legs. Was it wron
g? Or was this pleasurable feeling a gift from the gods telling her she was ready to give life? Was it a sign she was ready to be the mother of her people?

  The man left the tent, adjusting his trousers, and vanished back into the crowd. This happened ten more times, and alternately she could hear Astrid and Ragnvei’s moans. The more she heard, the more aroused she became, until she felt it almost unbearable. Was she the only one reacting like this? Everyone else appeared unaffected.

  When the last man exited the tent, Ada signaled to Ivar to enter with her.

  “Go now.” Olav gave her a little shove.

  She was relieved this part was over. Trying to forget about how she felt, she walked to the tent and entered it. The highly intoxicated handmaidens moaned and wormed as their naked, ravaged bodies lay on two wooden tables. They were both beautiful with large breasts and wide hips, and for a moment, Lucia almost thought it sad that soon they would be no more. But sacrifices must be made for the good of all.

  Ada said to Ivar, “Make sure you tell your guards and the men in the crowd to beat their swords and spears on their shields as loudly as they can, so the women and children do not hear the screams of the escorts. Send in your two strongest men.”

  Her stomach churned, fearing what was coming.

  “Yes, my lady.” Ivar nodded and stepped outside, a gust of wind entering the tent as he opened the flap. Two guards entered and took their spots by Astrid, one at her head, the other by her feet.

  Ada picked up a rope from the tool table and handed it to the guard above Astrid’s head. He wrapped it loosely around Astrid’s neck and waited for Ada’s signal. Ada nodded to the guard at Astrid’s feet, and he gripped the handmaiden’s ankles, pressing them down into the table.

  “Ouuuch,” Astrid squealed, her voice slurred.

  She heard the hammering sound of shields and swords colliding outside.

  “May you, handmaiden and chosen escort of Queen Maud, fulfill your purpose this day as we release your spirit from your physical body to usher the queen’s spirit to Valhalla!” Ada’s voice sounded like a mystical trance. She walked over to the tool table again and picked up a wide, triangular, iron dagger. Back at Astrid’s side, Ada raised the dagger high above her head with both arms. “May it be so!” She plunged the blade into Astrid’s chest.

  Astrid let out a loud shriek and arched her back in pain. The guard above her head pulled the rope tightly around her neck, and her face turned red. Ada plunged the knife into Astrid’s chest again and again until the sacrifice no longer moved. Blood spilt from the table onto the green grass below. Once she realized the spirit had been released, Ada looked at the lifeless sacrifice and smiled. “Now, the other,” she said, turning her attention to Ragnvei.

  Lucia had not expected it to be so vicious a ritual, but she did not want to close her eyes in fear that it would make her look like a coward. Everything she did, starting with today, must prove she was a brave queen, one her people could trust. One her people could and would revere.

  “Wait! What is this?” Ada yelled. She pulled Ragnvei up by the hair. “Is this what I think it is?”

  Lucia thought it looked like a small tattoo in the shape of a cross in the nape of Ragnvei’s neck. It was the same cross her mother would cling to whenever she prayed. Ragnvei was impure.

  Suddenly, she felt as if the earth shifted beneath her feet. Would this mean her mother would only have one escort? But it could not be. Her mother saw two escorts lifted above the doorway to Valhalla, and she would be expecting two, not one. If only one came, did that mean her mother would wait forever to journey to the halls of the gods?

  “She has agreed to be sacrificed, and she is even happy to do it now,” she said.

  “No! She cannot and must not be sacrificed. The gods will never accept one who has the indelible markings of another god on her body,” Ada said.

  “But my mother must make it to Valhalla. She needs both of her escorts. Think of all the things that can go wrong if she comes to haunt us or comes to haunt you,” Lucia said.

  Ada gave her a stern look. “It is better this way. Ivar!” she yelled.

  Ivar came back inside the tent and bowed.

  “Dress this heathen. She is impure, and of no further value in this ceremony,” Ada said.

  With her heart pounding against her ribs, Lucia ran out to her father and told him what happened.

  Olav paused for a moment before answering. “Yes, Lucia, you are right. The queen does need to make it to Valhalla today. But the sacrifice cannot be impure, or your mother’s spirit will surely come to plague us.”

  “And having her buried in Christian soil will not bring on the gods’ wrath?” Lucia’s felt her pulse in her head as she glared at her father.

  Olav lifted his arm, as if he would strike her. Lucia closed her eyes, awaiting the blow, but it never came. Instead, when she opened her eyes, she saw him entering the tent.

  When the crowd saw Ivar leading Ragnvei out of the tent half-dressed and alive, they jeered.

  Olav stepped forward. “We have found the sacrifice to be impure. We cannot sacrifice a Christian to our gods, now can we?”

  Hypocrite, Lucia thought.

  “Nay!” The crowd yelled, and then grew silent.

  “Queen Maud has Astrid with her now. And knowing my queen, she could get to Valhalla all by herself, even if she were blindfolded and gagged!”

  The crowd laughed.

  “But, the gods would be even more pleased if we had another escort, one of you perhaps?” Olav said.

  The crowd hushed; uneasy eyes glanced around.

  Quietly, one maiden walked up to the platform. “I will go!” she declared. “I lost my family to the Vik people. I have nothing to live for here in Midgard, and I have been looking forward to the day when I can die with honor and join my family in Valhalla!” She knelt before Olav.

  “Do you accept her offer?” Ada asked Lucia and Olav.

  “Yes!” Olav said.

  “Yes,” Lucia said, feeling pressured into accepting a secondary sacrifice.

  The crowd roared. A faint chant started in the back and waived its way to the front of the crowd. “Sacrifice her! Sacrifice her! Sacrifice her!”

  Ada fetched the dagger from the tent and lifted it into the air for all to see.

  “Sacrifice her! Sacrifice her!” The chant grew louder and louder.

  Grabbing the young maiden by her red hair, Ada sliced her throat. As the new escort collapsed to the ground, the Angel of Death released her hair and gestured to the guards to come pick her up.

  “Now, we bury the queen!” Ada yelled.

  The horses, oxen, and dogs were sacrificed and placed in the burial ship with Maud. On the bottom of the ship, they laid her crown, her royal jewels, brooches, hairpins, necklaces and rings, her most loved dresses, and her bone-carved combs. King Olav also included four of Maud’s five sleighs, her carved four-wheel wooden cart, and her favorite copper chests.

  To Lucia’s great relief, before throwing dirt onto the corpse, they covered Queen Maud’s face with sheets of silk. As Olav rejoined Lucia and Vilda on the platform, reverence filled the air.

  Ada spoke first. “In life, she was a queen worthy of praise and admiration, a wife, a friend, and the mother to all. Maud will be remembered by us as a generous, kind, and great Monarch. In death, she will advance even further and go ahead of her family to prepare a home for them on the other, better side.

  “Now, we lay her body to rest and to sleep forever. Her spirit continues eternally beyond the grave. May her family find peace in her absence and look forward to the day when they will meet her again. For life is not the beginning, nor is it the end. Death is not a beginning, nor the end, but a continuation of the eternities we have always been part of. When you look at the Auroras in the sky, remember your ancestors, remember the spirits yet to be born, for they are there, always watching, always existing, and always a part of your journey. Now, pray with me.”

  Silence perm
eated the somber crowd, and it was then Lucia felt the first cold drop of rain on her cheek.

  “Allfather, Odin, we release Queen Maud’s spirit unto you this day,” Ada prayed. “We thank you for the time we had her here. We thank you for the memories we have had with her that we cherish in our hearts, even more precious than gold. Allfather in Valhalla, we ask: give Queen Maud rest, health, and peace with you. And may we always remember her, as we remember you and all the gods, in our hearts and memories eternally.”

  King Olav invited Bishop Peter to say a prayer as well. He was a tall, slender man with a long face and a tall forehead. His eyelids looked halfway shut, and Lucia thought maybe they had become like that because he spent all his time praying with his eyes shut. Was her father truly sympathetic to this new religion? He had never been before. She hoped it was a mere act of granting her mother’s last wish.

  Lucia noticed the disapproving glances the crowd gave as the man of this foreign god spoke his blasphemous words. His prayer was short, but it had offended many, especially her. And if it were true that the gods had caused her mother to die because she worshipped this new god, she would do everything in her power to destroy any man woman or child who swore their allegiance to this wicked cause.

  The clouds were quickly moving in, threatening to release their raindrops and fill the sunken burial ship. As the king’s guards started throwing dirt, rocks, and soil into the ship, little by little, the onlookers disappeared into their houses and farms.

  Lucia could not prevent the tears from coming, but she did not care. These were the last moments she would have with her mother here in Midgard.

  “I have thought for days of what I might say to you, Olav, but there are no healing words strong enough to lessen your pain,” Vilda said to Olav.

  “I believe you of all people are probably the only one who truly understands,” Olav replied.

  What about me? she thought.

  “I am surprised you buried her in Christian soil,” Vilda said. “And that you used her inscription on the runestone, too.”

  “Some things need not be justified, Vilda. Not even to you,” Olav said with a steely gaze.

  Vilda grew silent, but Lucia could see anger brewing in her aunt’s navy eyes.

  As the rain began to descend more heavily, they remained still, resolute, and immobile, waiting loyally to the end until the entire grave was covered with earth.

  Once the last pile of dirt had been flung over the great queen, twenty-four stones were laid down in the shape of a longship, marking the outer borders of the grave. The longship’s dragonhead and tail protruded from the ground and a large runestone was set atop the burial.

  Lucia read it out loud:

  King Olav had this stone erected in memory of his wife Queen Maud who died in childbirth.

  May God and God’s Mother help the souls of Queen Maud and her unborn son.

  Inside this grave the Beloved Blessed Queen Maud rests.

  Concealed she’ll remain, and to us buried ever after.

  The King Olav, in Holy rituals,

  his Northern Queen, his Jewel, he released and freed

  with Sacred sacrificial rituals.

  Consecrated are these writing for her.

  For Jesus is the Savior and one Redeemer and Elect

  Sanctified, Hallowed Being.

  Having been born of Mary and the Father, pre-mortally Chosen and Destined to live for all mortals

  every one so victorious, their lives end.

  Yet thankfully these sorrowful tears will vanish.

  And conquer, Jesus will, the Devil and Destroyer.

  Mournful are All, and all are crying with hidden faces buried inside their palms.

  Bergendal city Christian church.

  A deep red serpent border curved around the edges of the runestone, framing the inscription. The triangular Valknut symbol representing pre-life, mortality, and the afterlife was engraved on the stone’s top and on the back. Queen Maud had written the inscription herself immediately after she fell and had demanded Olav put it on her gravestone.

  But what no one knew was that the inscriptional carried a secret, and whoever deciphered it would be led to the most powerful object in all the nine realms.

  3

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