Idunn's Apples

Olaf stood at the door, his fists on his hips. He looked from Morag, then to Snorri, then back to Morag and his eyes took all of her in. She covered herself with her hands again.

"My lord!" Morag knew exactly how this must look to the Viking chieftain but couldn't figure out if he were upset that his son was not ravaging her or furious that she might be casting a seductive spell over Snorri just as Ingrid had accused her of doing.

"Girl! Get some decent clothes on!" Olaf 's eyes did not leave Morag as she ran across the room, pulled the sheets from her bed, and wrapped them about her.

"I am sorry, Lord Olaf. I was in the bath when-"

"Oh, I'd come up here to see what she looked like, Father. She's comely." Snorri sheathed his dagger.

Olaf eyed his son curiously. "So...you approve of a union between the two of you?"

"Of course, Father. She will be my Freya, and after seeing her fine form there is little doubt that we shall have many children."

Olaf stared at his son thoughtfully.

Morag cleared her throat. "So there is no impediment to my becoming your daughter, Lord Olaf."

The older man's eyes opened wide. He seemed taken by surprise at her words.

"I mean, you have no objections that Snorri intends to court me?"

To Morag's dismay the two men stared at each other and then laughed deeply. She waited patiently for their mirth to end.

"No, Lady Morag, I have no objection to your union. However, you will find that Vikings do not court ladies." He chuckled, giving Morag time to raise an eyebrow. "Vikings take what they want. I am lord here, and if my son wants you, and if I do not object, then he takes you."

"I see," she replied. "I stand ready to perform my duties as Snorri's wife."

"Oh, you're not his wife yet. That takes a special ceremony and a member of your family or your guardian must pass you off to him, but we're weeks away from that. For now"-Olaf stepped back and reached for the door-"you two may become better acquainted." Then the Viking chieftain stepped out of Morag's chamber and closed the door behind him.

"I see," repeated Morag.

For several seconds neither she nor Snorri moved, and the only sound that was heard was the night wind passing by the window of her chamber. Then, Morag let the blankets slip away from her.

"So Vikings do not court, then?" she asked.

"When we see a woman that we want, we simply approach her family. Sometimes a man wants a woman for a week, sometimes for a year, and sometimes"-Snorri turned and briefly watched the clouds blow across the moon-"a man wants a woman until the end times."

"And how long would you want me for, Snorri?" She walked slowly across the floor toward him.

"I don't want you, Lady Morag," he admitted bluntly. "There's nothing that you can do to make my blood steam and my heart hammer in my chest."

"Are you so sure of that?" she asked. She breathed deeply and arched her back, making sure that the wet cloth of her nightgown clung to every curve along the front of her body. "I can be most enticing...for the man I will call my husband."

He glanced back at her. His eyes darted down to her breasts, then were back up at her face. "I'm sure, Lady Morag." He sighed and stood. "I shall bid you good night." Then he left, closing the door behind himself just as his father had done a short time earlier.

Morag's brow furrowed. Twin pangs of frustration and confusion struck her. She knew she should feel relief that her chastity was not threatened by these un-Christian Vikings, yet should not her soon-to-be-husband act with more passion when she offered herself in a most opportune way? Or, as she secretly feared, was there something wrong with her?

Chapter 10: New Beginnings

Morag made sure to be in the great hall before any of the Vikings presented themselves for breakfast. She hurried the servants about, urging them to prepare the morning meal. A proper wife, she considered, would have such things ready for her husband before he sat down at the table.

Ingrid was the first of Olaf's family to appear, and she was serene as she walked down the stairs to the great hall. At least, until she spied Morag hustling the servants about.

"What are you about, witch?" she called out, waking a few Vikings who had been asleep upon the stone floor. They looked about in bewilderment, then closed their eyes and settled back down.

"I am preparing breakfast for the master of the keep and his family, Lady Ingrid." Morag returned the cold stare that was directed at her. "As is my responsibility as lady of the keep. Until Lord Olaf instructs me otherwise, I shall perform my regular duties." She then busied herself and kept out of the Viking woman's reach.

Ingrid, to Morag's surprise, busied herself elsewhere in the fortress and did not reappear until Olaf came thumping down the stairs. Morag bowed low to him.

"Your breakfast awaits you, Lord Olaf."

He stopped and stared at Morag in surprise. Silence filled the seconds that passed.

"Well, sit, Father!" demanded Ingrid, who had returned to the great hall unnoticed by Morag. "Stop staring at the witch!"

Morag's face coloured. Olaf stammered, "Where is Snorri?"

"Why don't you ask the witch?" suggested Ingrid. "Perhaps she thrust a mistletoe barb into his heart as he thrust into her loins."

Morag opened her mouth to retort but was interrupted by the sounds of half-awake Vikings rising to their feet and taking seats at the benches. She shot a look of hatred at Ingrid. Then, she turned to the Viking lord. "I've not seen your son since he left my chambers last night, Lord Olaf. Shall I have him summoned?"

"Don't bother," said the old Viking, laughing. "He's probably still sleeping off last night."

Morag's cheeks coloured again. Ingrid slammed her goblet onto the table.

"My lord..." whispered Morag, "we did not..." She stopped herself and put her hand over her mouth. His suggestion was highly improper, especially in front of so many, but Vikings might think such behaviour normal. She wondered if protesting her innocence was the right thing to do with Olaf.

The Viking chieftain looked back and forth at the two young women. "Thor's boars! He spent the night drinking with Sven and Thothrar!" He looked from one to the other again. "Is that all you women ever think about?" he asked.

Morag wanted to flee the room but was rooted to the spot. Her sole satisfaction in this terrible conversation was that Ingrid appeared to be as upset about their misinterpretation as she was.

"When you leave my brother in the clutches of that seductress! That creature! How can anything else be in my thoughts, Father?"

"Ingrid, you must learn to be courteous to Lady Morag," cautioned Olaf in a tired voice.

"Her long blonde hair has cast a spell over your eyes, Father! She seeks to wheedle her way into your heart and Snorri's! She means to be mistress of this keep again!"

"And so she should!" exclaimed Olaf. Ingrid's face went red. "In her place, would you do anything else?"

"I would have thrown myself on my blade, or found a husband to defend the keep from my enemies! I would not have slinked about in fineries and prettied up my hair and face in the hopes that-"

"Enough, Ingrid!" said Olaf. He folded his fingers together in front of his face. "Perhaps the problem is mine. Perhaps I have not given you the freedom to find a husband. The right man would both soothe and temper your anger."

"And what chance have I for a husband here? Amongst these southern weaklings? I would as soon lay with your Lady Morag than any of her kinsmen!"

"I shall send a messenger back to Gunderr." Ingrid's eye lit up at the name. "He has sons with no wives, and perhaps one of them will get you to find a more useful purpose for that tongue, daughter." Ingrid was quickly lost in her own thoughts, and that finally brought a smile to Olaf's face.

"Now, Lady Morag, will you not join us for the morning meal?" asked the Viking chieftain.

She looked about uncertainly, but Snorri was still absent. With a shrug, she took her seat beside Olaf and began to eat.

The Viking chieftain offered her a leg of chicken. "Ingrid will be amenable enough once she has someone to occupy her thoughts. And a husband will give her someone to instruct and command." He glanced at Morag. "She can be less than pleasant, I'm told."

"I would not want to upset you, Lord Olaf, by disagreeing." She took the offered meat and then risked a quick look at Ingrid. "I suppose it is not easy for her, being so far from home and so removed from possible husbands."

"We had all thought to be back home by now," said Olaf wistfully. "You would have been happy with that arrangement."

Morag's thoughts turned to the priest who had come to collect her before the Vikings arrived. "I think that I am as safe with you as I would have been fatherless and with my own people, Lord Olaf. There are vultures who wheel over newly orphaned women."

Snorri suddenly made an appearance, stumbling down the steps into the great hall. He straightened up, looked around, then nodded toward his father. Olaf waved him over as Morag rose from her seat to serve the chieftain's son. Snorri took his time approaching the head table, clapping friends on their backs and kicking others who still snored upon the floor. Finally, he sat heavily upon his chair.

"Odin's eye! I'm hungry!" he exclaimed.

Morag placed a variety of food on the table before him, then filled his goblet with honey mead. She gave him a warm smile. He stared up at her as if not recognizing her. "Father, did we get a new maidservant?"

"That's Lady Morag, Snorri. Be grateful for any attention a woman gives you. Freya's gifts are fleeting."

Morag sat back down in her chair, confused. "I thought that in the spirit of..."

"Witchcraft!" sneered Ingrid, raising a few laughs from those around the room.

"New beginnings!" offered Olaf.

Morag gave the Viking chieftain a quick smile. "In the spirit of new beginnings, I would offer you food for your plate, Snorri, son of Lord Olaf. Am I wrong to do so?"

A number of the warriors raised their eyebrows and elbowed their neighbours at her words. Snorri took a bite of chicken, followed by a long drink from his goblet.

"I am pleased that so fair a creature sits beside me, Lady Morag, although I am unaccustomed to such treatment from the women I've known."

Ingrid gasped. She slammed her goblet down upon the table, spilling its contents, then she stood and stormed from the great hall. No-one laughed.

"Yes," said Olaf quietly as he sat beside Morag watching his daughter depart, "the sooner that I find her a husband, the better for everyone."

Chapter 11: Wayward Arrow

Olaf arranged a tour of the lands he had acquired. To Morag's surprise, she was invited. Under Ingrid's suspicious eye, she mounted her horse and rode out of the keep with the Viking chieftain, his son, and ten warriors.

The day was sunny but cool, with large fluffy clouds drifting lazily from one horizon to the other. To Morag's amazement, she found the Vikings as poor at riding as she was; even Snorri struggled with his beast at times. Again, it was something that made these invaders seem familiar and less monstrous. In a short time the group was laughing and enjoying themselves as the horses carried them across the rolling hills of her homeland.

Suddenly, Olaf shouted, "Ambush!" and reached across Morag with his shield arm. Horses screamed. Men cursed.

"Snorri!" called out Olaf. Morag observed the shout was a command to ride after the attackers and not a demand that he come to his father, for the younger Viking wheeled about then, pointed his axe at something beyond her sight, and charged. The remainder of the warriors rode after him, leaving Morag alone with the Viking chieftain.

"You need not watch over me, Lord Olaf," she said, tossing her head so her hair no longer obscured her face. "I know my way back to the keep. Or do you fear I will ride off?"

When Olaf didn't respond, Morag turned and noted an arrow protruding from Olaf's ribs. His eyes were closed and he was breathing slowly.

"You're hurt! And you threw your shield across me that I might be saved from the archers!"

Olaf shrugged, then winced. "Snorri would not appreciate his future bride being punctured with arrows." He opened his eyes and looked about, searching.

"Your son has rode off, after the assailants I assume. Let us return to the keep where you may be healed," she suggested.

He shook his head. "Better that you help me off my horse, that I may lie upon the ground and await the Valkyrie, Morag."

Her eyes widened. She looked about desperately, but no-one was in sight. "I'll help you back to the keep. Surely Ingrid knows some healing, being a Viking woman."

"Nonsense, woman! Lay me down upon the ground and put my axe in my grip!"

Morag eased her horse beside Olaf's, then urged it forward. "We're going back to the keep. And you're in no shape to argue if you cannot dismount under your own power."

Olaf cringed as a wave of pain flowed through his body. He nodded his acceptance and let Morag direct his steed. She managed to tempt both horses back in the direction from whence they'd come, but they had travelled no further than one hundred yards when Morag had the beasts stop. She listened carefully.

"What is it?" gasped Olaf.

"Men," she whispered back. "Nearby, but I know not where."

Olaf reached out to grip her hand. "If I have been kind to you, then I ask that you grant me a favour." Morag nodded. "Lay me down in that woods there. Don't allow them to discover me. You are free to go with your southern warriors."

An image of the lustful priest who had come to rescue her from the Vikings came into her mind. "I'll conceal you within those woods, but I'll stay with you. I have no way of knowing if these men will be...as kind to me as you've been, Lord Olaf."

She urged the horses on, turning them towards the trees. Once within the sheltering forest, she kept them going, forcing the steeds deeper and deeper into the woods until at last her companion begged her to stop.

"I can go no further," he gasped. "Lay me down in the ferns there."

She dismounted quickly. Then she tied the horses to some low branches so that they might forage. Olaf toppled from his mount, half-conscious, and Morag barely caught him before he collapsed upon the ground. The loud metallic clanks of his armour and weapons startled her and she looked around in fright. The edge of the forest was not visible from where they hid.

Morag removed as much of Olaf's armour and weapons as she could, then proceeded to drag the large Viking warrior a small distance from the horses for fear he would be trod upon. At last, she collapsed upon the ground beside the unconscious man. Sleep visited her far more easily than she had thought it would.

Chapter 12: Admission of Guilt

Morag awoke with a start.

Night had fallen and an owl was hooting somewhere nearby. As she lay quietly with her hand upon Olaf's shirt, she listened to the soft rustlings in the undergrowth that spoke of tiny nocturnal creatures busying themselves in their nightly rituals. The moon was high and silvery light filtered through branches, illuminating the horses, Olaf, and her hand.

She placed her ear over Olaf's lips and heard a faint breathing. Her hand felt the tremor of a heartbeat. "So these Valkyrie have not stolen you away just yet, have they?"

Morag sat up and wondered about what she should do next. If she abandoned Olaf, it was very likely that she could make her way to another freehold. There, she could find refuge from the Vikings, at least temporarily. But if that priest were there-she quickly realized that as she would have no protector she would now be prey to the basest of men.

So, she could stay and care for this Viking chieftain who had likely slain her father in battle, or she could make her way back to the keep and seek help. A glance at Olaf's still form convinced her that it was her obligation to care for him. If she had any hope of finding a husband and protector in Snorri, then caring for his father would be a necessity. But, what should she do?

Olaf began to stir, as if waking from a dream. "Ohhh..."

"Hush, now!"

His eyes opened and slowly made their way to her face. "What happened?"

"You don't recall the arrow? It's still in your side."

He winced, then nodded. "I didn't expect to wake up to you."

"What else could I do?"

"Brunhilde, I've missed you so much! I'm glad Odin sent you to collect me. Do we have some time before I go on to Valhalla?"

Morag was taken aback. Was the Viking still dreaming? Or had his injury addled his mind?

"Brunhilde?" came the worried question as his eyes began to glaze over.

"Yes, I'm here," Morag answered. "Talk to me, Olaf."

"Rest your head on my chest like you always used to. I want to feel your long hair in my fingers."

Morag set her head gently upon his breast, then spread her hair out across his shirt. His hand came up brushing her cheek, then he ran his fingers gently over her head.

"Can we just stay like this for a while, Brunhilde?"

"As long as you like, Olaf."

They were silent for several minutes.

"Brunhilde?"

"Yes," she whispered, hoping he would fall back into a healing sleep.

"I'm sorry I got you with child. It was Ingrid that killed you, but it was my fault you were birthing her. I should have known after the trouble you had with Snorri-"

"It wasn't your fault, Olaf. If I had not wanted a child, you would not have been able to put one in me."

He chuckled, then groaned in pain.

Then, his breathing deepened and slowed. Morag feared she was going to be locked in the embrace of a dying man but did not move. Tears came to her eyes as she thought of the years of pain in this Viking's heart over a wife he'd lost during childbirth and the blame he had cast on himself for all that time.

'It was Ingrid that killed you,' considered Morag. How much blame had leaked out of him toward Ingrid? As a small child, had Snorri resented his sister for stealing his mother away? Was this the fount of Ingrid's anger and bitterness? Morag felt a deep sympathy for the Viking woman, and for Olaf and his son.

Olaf's hand slowed and came to a rest on her head. Morag closed her eyes and tried to will herself to sleep, but it did not visit her once throughout that long night.

Chapter 13: Discovered

As dawn broke, Olaf stirred and lifted his hand from Morag's head. She pushed herself up into a sitting position and shook her head. A loud yawn escaped her mouth before she could stop it. A glance at Olaf revealed that he had not stirred to wakefulness because of her carelessness.

Morag rose to her feet and approached the horses, murmuring in a soothing tone. A search of the saddlebags rendered a small amount of food. She ate enough to satisfy her stomach and left the rest in case the Viking should awaken hungry. If he awoke, she reminded herself. She stared at the man. His chest was not rising and falling as much as she would have liked, but she knew he was still breathing. How was she to get him back to the keep?

The sound of something rushing through the forest, breaking branches and panting, interrupted her thoughts. Morag peered around the horses and spied a man in the woods. He moved too quickly and there were too many intervening trunks and hillocks to see clearly enough to identify him, but he was making his way toward her and Olaf.

Was he friendly? How would she determine who was friendly anymore? Her king had abandoned her to the whims of a lustful priest and rapacious Vikings. The Vikings had proved less ferocious than she had feared, at least some of them had. If only her father were still alive she might have some rock to anchor all the thoughts whirling about within her head.