Viking Attack
After the last traveler had left Brandergaard, an eerie atmosphere lingered in the stuffy longhouse. Sigrid was eagerly weaving on the loom, which was situated in the corner by the back of the house. She hummed an old Anglo-Saxon tune Ailia had heard her sing many times before. Its ghostly melody, combined with the thrall’s breathy voice sent chills up and down Ailia’s spine.
Let us all remember
All those that died that winter’s night
As we scurry on our path.
No one knew
That one kiss farewell would be their last
As they close the door
For all who are left behind, the memories haunt
We still climb the tall mountains
Speaking of the pain of loss we share
The loss of those who live no more
Let us all remember
Our lives will not ever be the same
We face the
new world alone
Let us all remember
While the time slowly passes
We are all left behind to sorrow
Let us all remember
That winter's night became their final
As life continued on its eternal cycle
Do not forget
Some lives continue, yet for others
Today will be their last.
Ailia was not sure if Sigrid had chosen that song intentionally, or if she was just singing it out of habit. It was a poor choice either way.
Brander and Ivar had decided it be best if Ivar stayed to protect Ailia. Unni had traveled with the teenage neighbor boy to Hammerburg. It was unlikely that Lucia and Soren had headed in that direction, but it needed to be covered just in case. Hammerburg was only a two-day journey away on horseback, so Unni would be returning within the week if she couldn’t locate or track them down.
Whenever Ailia sat down, her legs itched to move, and her mind filled with disconcerting thoughts. Not even scrubbing the floor until her knuckles bled or clearing out the ashes from the hearth could distract her enough to make her mind from conjuring up the worst of outcomes.
Soon so much had amassed in her mind that she had no choice but to find an escape, and she concluded that the best thing to do was to go to her mother’s grave. Being close to the rune stone, she felt a strong connection with her mother, and being near a loved one was what she needed.
She pulled her overcoat on, strapped on her boots and headed outside.
Ivar was busy chopping firewood. He paused when he saw Ailia. “Where do you think you are headed, young lady?” he asked with no lightness in his voice.
“To the Bergendal Stave Church. Will you escort me perhaps?”
“Yes, of course, my lady. This firewood can wait until later,” he said. He imbedded his heavyweight ax onto the giant log he was working on and proceeded to straighten out his clothes, brushing the sawdust off them. “There is nothing like chopping wood to keep you warm—and foul-smelling.” He laughed. “Ready when you are, my lady.”
She smiled at him as the started toward the church, hoping she wouldn’t bore him with her company. They walked in silence until Ailia finally thought of something that would be worthy of conversation.
“How did you come to be employed at the castle for the king, er… my father?” Even after all these months of knowing that King Olav was her father, Ailia still had difficulty accepting her relationship to him.
Ivar looked at her briefly and almost smiled. “I was a young lad, twelve, maybe thirteen, no definitely twelve, when my father died at the hands of his brother in a sword duel. At the time, I was a very small boy, probably the smallest twelve-year-old in Asker,” he huffed.
“My father was a very proud man, seeking honor and respect at any cost and he had become infatuated with the idea of being revered and in appearing upright in society. My uncle had a very jovial personality and had jokingly made a comment about me, something like I should have been born a girl—I was so small. It did not bother me much, but my father insisted he take the comment back and apologize to him in front of our chieftain. When my uncle refused, my father became furious and insisted on a duel between the two. It ended badly. I lost my father and my mother lost her husband, all in the name of pride and respectability.” He looked into the horizon.
“I vowed to live each day in an honorable manner, so I could gain the respect my father once sought. I felt it was the way to honor his memory. When King Olav announced a few years later that he was looking for young men to train for his guard, I eagerly traveled to Bergendal and joined the guard. By then, I had grown quite a bit, even rising above my uncle. I think he felt horrible the rest of his life for killing my father. He even took my widowed mother in after I left and fed her, clothed her, and gave her a home until she died,” he finished.
“How did you come to be one of the king’s right-hand guards?” Ailia asked. She had no idea Ivar had such a sorrowful past.
“I did not know it then, but I set my standards so high, even higher than what the king expected of me. I suppose he took notice and hired me to report to him directly. After that, I was promoted to the king’s chief guard.” His posture improved and the energy in his voice accelerated as he spoke.
“Quite an accomplishment,” she said.
“I was only doing my duty.”
“I would say it was more than that,” she said. “I understand my father trusted you completely. It’s a rare man who can be entrusted to such a level. I’m sure my father considered you among one of his highest blessings. Every kingdom needs a good leader, but the leader needs support, needs to stand on the shoulders of grand men and women.” She thought for a moment about her situation. She needed to select the right supporters to help her through these coming times. Then it occurred to her: that was the first step in her plan! Excitement grew in her bosom. She had known it all along, but she hadn’t been able to put it into words until now. She realized that it was important to prepare herself, but that it was equally important she select and then prepare, her supporters, not just accept whomever was there. This became as clear in her mind as the burning sun on a bright summer’s day. Lucia’s betrayal is as deep as the ocean. She sorrowed because she realized she would never be able to trust her sister again and Lucia would not be a part of her future the way Ailia had envisioned.
They arrived at the Bergendal Stave Church right after the sun had descended below the mountains. Low-lying, dense fog covered the white valley, bringing with it a rather unwelcome frost. The fog would hide them from their enemies as it had become difficult to see even a few feet ahead.
Ailia walked over to the familiar sight, the tall rune stone that stood erected in her mother’s honor. Each time she neared the burial place, an overwhelming feeling of nostalgia overcame her. Standing there beside Ivar in front of her mother’s grave, another thing finally dawned on her. She needed to start realizing her potential, her destiny, and the force she had been endowed with. The game which she was playing would only end the way she wanted if and only if, she stepped into it with both feet, grabbed it with both hands, and saw it with both eyes.
“Eyes see to the future,” Unni would always say. Now, she saw what was in front of her and no longer regretted what was behind her. The ending had already been established, the victory ripe. Now, she needed to become worthy to claim it, to take it, and make it her own.
Her bosom burned with fervor, her heart felt strong and courageous, knowing she was the Great Sentinor. She saw life as it was, like she had never seen before and it was hers for the taking—her right, her privilege. She looked over at Ivar standing so gallantly beside her, protecting her, serving her. She must claim her rightful position and not live in excuses, nor fears, any longer.
“My lady,” Ivar said and knelt before her, bowing his head in a knightly manner.
She thought it strange that he would bow to her here in front of the church. Then, she noticed that it had become lighter around her and wondered where the light was coming from. It was not a blazing light, not even a bright one, but a soft radiant glow. Suddenly, she realized it was coming from her skin. It was barely perceptible, but nevertheless perceptible, to her in the dusk. She sighed in amazement and took off her mittens to better see her flesh. The light from her skin dimmed slowly until it was noticeable no more. “Did you see—?”
“Yes, my lady,” he said. “You were… glowing.”
“I was glowing,” she said and walked over to the rune stone. “I am the light source and there is no reason I should not find what I am searching for. I believe my father inscribed this rune stone with directions on how to find the Aesira scrolls. My mother said in her letter to me that ‘A wise woman seeks after the words of her parents.’ These and the letter she wrote, are the only words that I have from them. I have read her letter a hundred times and found nothing. But maybe there is something to be found here.”
“Your mother’s favorite symbol was the Valknut symbol—this one here.” He pointed to the symbol engraved on the rune stone.
“What is significant about it?” she asked herself more than him. “Hmm—it has three interwoven triangles. The symbol isn’t related to our family in any way, is it?”
“No, not that I am aware,” he answered. “But, look at the pattern. Everything is in threes.”
“Perhaps every third gravestone has something on it?” she said.
They walked over to different gravestones and searched their surfaces.
“There is nothing on mine, is there anything on yours?” Ivar asked.
“No.”
“Let us look at one more,” he said. They found nothing of interest, not even a small inscription or indent, on any of the stones. They were all perfectly round.
“Maybe on the rune stone itself?” Ivar suggested. “How about every third sentence?” They tried to read it but it made no sense.
“What about every third word,” she said. They looked at each other believing they were onto something. “Inside—the—Queen—concealed—and—buried—the—Holy—” Ailia’s heart leapt. “We need something to write on,” she said.
“I will go ask Bishop Peter.” Ivar ran toward the church even before she had a chance to answer. He returned with a breathless Bishop Peter on his heels.
“What have we here?” Bishop Peter asked politely, still securing his overcoat around his waist with a pen and scroll in hand.
“We believe there is a message on the rune stone,” she replied. “Will you write the words while I read them out loud?”
“Of course,” he said. “I often wondered if this rune stone had any other purposes,” he said, sliding his hand across the words. “Whenever you are ready, Ailia.”
She nodded and started deciphering the message from the beginning. It was almost dark outside now and difficult to make out the letters. “Inside—the queen concealed and buried the Holy—Northern Jewel and Sacred—Consecrated writings for the one—elect being—Born and pre-mortally destined for—every victorious end. These will conquer the destroyer—All are hidden inside—Bergendal Church.”
“Read it for me,” she said, so excited she could hardly stand it. “Read it! Does it make any sense?”
He read it out loud for her and when he finished, they stood speechless, staring into each others eyes.
“How did you figure it out?” Bishop Peter asked.
“The Valknut Symbol. Three sides, three triangles, every—third—word—” she said, slowing toward the end. “Is there a Valknut symbol inside the church?”
Bishop Peter thought for a moment. “The church was built for your mother, by your mother’s builders, so I imagine that it must be where the scrolls are hidden or buried. I do not remember there being one, but I was not the bishop here when the church came into service. If there is a Valknut symbol inside, it is hidden in some detailed painting or carving which would go unnoticed by anyone.”
“I think it would be wise to continue the search now,” Ivar said.
“Yes, I agree. Let me first make sure my deacons are praying properly in their rooms before we start rampaging the church. They would think I have gone mad and it is best to keep this information between us. Shall we?” Bishop Peter said, leading the way.
Ailia hadn’t noticed how freezing and numb her hands had become until she stepped into the foyer. Her cheeks burned as the hot air met them, and her fingers ached as they thawed.
After Bishop Peter had settled his deacons, he came back out and pointed them each in different directions to look for the Valknut symbol.
By the time Ailia had quickly scanned the numerous paintings and engravings, she fretted, realizing it could take days, if not weeks to locate the Valknut symbol. Yet it still did not deter her from starting the search tonight or from praying for a small miracle.
“The rune stone mentions 'Great,' which could also mean Jesus or Mary. It also mentioned the destroyer, which could mean Satan or sinners. Maybe we should start there,” she yelled out into the chapel.
“Shh—” Bishop Peter cautioned her.
“I’m sorry. In my excitement I forgot to be reverent in the Lord’s house,” she said.
“No, that is not what I meant. I just do not want the deacons to hear us,” Bishop Peter said.
Ailia smirked. She meandered over in front of the Rotunda and looked up at the hovering Crucifix. Letting her eyes wander the room, she searched for any triangular symbols in the paintings that covered the walls. Before, when she had studied these paintings, she had searched for the meaning of life and the meaning of the afterlife. Now, as she let her eyes glide across the wall, she was hunting for a sign that would save not only her life, but also the life of all people in Midgard. Where could the Valknut symbol be? Her mother would not have hidden it too well, for she would have had to known that no one would ever find it. “Anything?” she yelled to Ivar.
“No, nothing here,” Ivar said.
Ailia entered the holy rotunda and looked at the painting of the last supper on the vaulted ceiling. Christ was centered in the middle, with his apostles surrounding Him, partaking of the first sacrament. She looked around to see if she could find a small stool to stand on and grabbed a small stool that stood next to the pulpit. Standing on it, she could almost reach the ceiling now. She squinted her eyes, trying to make out the details.
“This will help you see better,” Bishop Peter said, handing her a torch. “Just do not hold it too close to the paintings or you will burn them.”
Ailia gladly accepted the torch and held it up closer to the ceiling while Bishop Peter walked away to continue his own search.
“Perhaps your mother did not embed the scrolls in the ceiling. They could be on statues, on the walls or on the floors,” Ivar said walking past her, holding his own torch. He marched over to the square soapstone font.
“Maybe,” Ailia said. She hopped down from the stool and looked down on the rotunda floor. To her amazement, a large, lighter-colored pine triangle was imbedded in the slightly darker floor. How had she not noticed it before? It was only one triangle though, not three like on the Valknut symbol. “Bishop Peter—over here!” she said.
“Yes, coming!” He rushed over to Ailia.
“Look,” she said, pointing to the floor with her torch. “A triangle.”
He looked down at the floor and his already wide eyes widened. “Indeed.”
“Do you think my mother could have separated the three triangles and placed each one in separate locations in the church?” she asked.
“The triangle is a symbol in Christianity too, but it could mean something. Let’s keep looking,” he said, his slender, gangly frame shuffling off.
Shortly after, they discovered another triangle embedded in the floor by the front door. They kept searching for a third one, but couldn’t find it.
Finally, Ivar found something. “Come look over here,” he said, pointing to the soapstone font. “Around the font, on the floor—” He circled his torch above the floor, illuminating it.
“The third triangle,” Bishop Peter said.
“It has to be it. Three triangles, just like on the Valknut symbol,” Ailia said. “Let’s try and pull up the one in the rotunda first.”
“All right, but we must be careful to not damage the floor,” Bishop Peter cautioned as they ran over to the rotunda. He carefully guided his finger along the edge of the triangle to see if there was any ledge to lift it. After trying for a while, he said, “Let’s try the font instead.”
They made their way over and all stood in silence for a moment, looking at the square soapstone font. Four stout pillars comprised the font’s base and Jesus, Mary and the Apostles were all carved into the pillar walls.
Bishop Peter knelt down and crawled around the font, his hands searching the surface of it. “There is something here that resembles—a triangle,” he said as he looked behind one of the four pillars.
Ailia stepped closer and knelt down beside him to look. It was hard to see, but she could make out a small Valknut symbol hidden in the sophisticated design.
“The Valknut symbol!” she said.
“There it is!” Bishop Peter said. He scooted in closer to get a better look.
All of a sudden, a torch broke through one of the stained-glass windows. The sharp, crashing sound of glass hitting the floor echoed through the chapel. The torch hit Ailia’s leg, the flames nearly setting fire to her dress, but she quickly kicked it away and brushed the flames off her skirt.
“Are you all right?” Ivar asked. “Did it burn you?”
“No, I’m fine. What’s happening?” she asked.
One of the young deacons burst in through the back door. “We are being attacked by Vikings!” he yelled, his eyes glowing with the fear of death. “They are setting the church on fire! What do we do?” he asked Bishop Peter frantically.
They all looked to Bishop Peter for their next move, but he was paying no attention to them. His focus was on the impressively stunning jewel he had just pulled from inside the hollow font.