“What - ?” the only word she could manage as her thoughts pinged around her head like a pinball machine gone mad. Struggling for a breath a multitude of unformed questions whizzed around in her mind as she attempted to make sense of what just happened. A loud rush of noise caught her attention, forcing her to focus on the very pointy thing inches away from her nose.
Her eyes travelled up the length of the spear taking in the thick hairy arms, the woollen tunic and eventually found the eyes of a very large man. Scrambling back crablike, Sarah found herself up against what felt like, quite literally a rock and a hard place.
“What the…?” squeaked Sarah, her brain trying to make sense of what she saw, her eyes always returning to the pointy thing. Common sense told her that it was a spear, but who the heck has a spear in the twenty first century? The answer came to her fairly quickly as she tried to focus on the giant holding the spear – he did. From the look on his face he was not a happy man, words were coming out of his mouth but not words she understood, not surprising given she was in Denmark.
Gradually, as if a fog was lifting from her mind Sarah found to her amazement that bits seemed to be almost making sense. Shaking her head to clear the fog, Sarah concentrated on the words and then like a light switch being turned on, the words become clear.
“Odin’s eye! What do mean, crashing around the forest scaring off the deer!”
Sarah was still confused. What deer? What forest? The last she remembered she was in the Roskilde Cathedral museum with her Dad and a bunch of crusty archaeologists discussing the best way to preserve large timbers. No, that’s wrong; she had gone into a side room and had been reading a stone, a rune stone, what did it say?
“Breathe girl” she muttered to herself, closing her eyes. It’s a dream. She told herself pinching her arm but feeling the pain she opened her eyes again. No, still a forest and still a large man staring at her, but at least he had stopped yelling. The spear had, thankfully, been removed from the tip of her nose and he seemed to be waiting for her to say something. Not wanting to disappoint him, Sarah began with, “Umm…where am I?”
“Where are you? Hmph…” he shook his head and sighed deeply, seeming to come to a decision of sorts “well you can’t stay here, get up girl you had better come with me. It’s not safe when there are men out hunting, stay close and stop talking so much” the giant chuckled to himself. Sarah frowned, thinks he’s funny huh?
“Do you understand?” he paused waiting for an answer, but Sarah simply nodded, for once she was completely lost for words.
“By the ways, I’m Ulf, have you a name?” asked Ulf as he hauled Sarah to her feet.
He was the biggest man Sarah had ever seen, or at least that was the impression she got. He wore a thick cloak attached at the shoulder by a round bronze coloured brooch under which was a serviceable brown wool tunic over trousers of a similar weave tied at the waist by a wide leather belt. On the left attached to the belt was a sword in a wool lined leather scabbard, the hilt highly decorated with silver wire and enamel. To the right tucked into the belt was a large hunting knife.
Apart from all the pointy things that had Sarah licking her lips nervously the item which caught her attention was the buckle on his belt. Two silver dragons with red enamel eyes chasing their tails in opposing figures of eight. The dragons seemed to be looking at her, looking through her, then astonishingly she thought she saw one eye close and then open in a very slow wink. Positive that she was going mad, Sarah forced herself to look up into the deep blue eyes of the giant Ulf who was still waiting for her to speak.
Nodding, eyes wide as saucers and with a mouth drier than the Sahara Dessert, she managed to croak out a reply, “My name is Sarah”.
The giant was frowning at her, so with another nervous swallow she tried again, “My name is Sarah Tremayne, and I really don’t know where I am or why I am here. Do you know?” It did occur to her as she looked at her rescuer/captor, that perhaps this was too much information.
“I heard ya the first time. Odd name that, Sarah…not like any I have heard before…so you’re foreign. This I need to think on, come on up you get I said, we need to get a move on.” The first was said contemplatively and the second far more briskly. This was a man who once he had made up his mind about something would not be slow to act on it.
Ulf picked up his pack and made off into the forest, far quicker than a man his size ought to have. Sarah was forced to half walk, half jog just to keep up, wondering why she was, when she could just turn around and go and find a sane person that didn’t carry a big pointy spear and numerous other pointy objects that would in normal circumstances suggest he was a psycho of some kind.
However, something in Sarah said that it was okay and it was this less logical side of her personality which made her feet follow the giant Ulf as he disappeared into the trees. Confusion and sheer fright fought with each other but eventually the effort of keeping up with the giant Ulf removed all thought from her mind.
After what seemed like an eternity, Ulf came to a stop in a small clearing by a stream and realizing that they weren’t going any further Sarah fell to the ground and closed her eyes. It felt like her heart was going to burst out of her chest, her breath burned and as for her legs, they had turned to jelly. Jiggers! Not…even…cross country…at school…felt this bad!
As her heartbeat and breathing slowly returned to normal she became aware of the wet grass on her back (and the twig sticking between her shoulder blades), the smell of wood smoke and some sort of roasting meat. But mostly what she could smell, well…with her eyes closed she could have sworn she was at her Nan’s and Brad the dog had been out in the pouring rain rolling in cow pats, a favourite pastime of his. However, she knew that there was no Nan and no Brad the dog. Very, very reluctantly she opened her eyes to find four pairs of eyes staring down at her.
“Well wot have ya got here Ulf?”
“I do believe it’s a girl but from the way she is dressed I’m not sure what manner of girl – found her crashing around in the low scrub below Freya’s rocks”. There were mutters at that information and looks of alarm passed between the other three men.
“What was she doing there?”
“Don’t know, almost ran her through, thought she was a pig at first. Anyways, she hasn’t said much, told me her name is Sarah and wanted to know where she was. I think she might be a bit touched.” This was not a thought that went down well. As one, they all took a breath and stepped back.
“Then, why didya bring her here!” exclaimed yet another hairy face.
Ulf sighed and then spoke slowly like he was explaining something very simple to some not very bright people, Sarah suppressed a smile.
“She’s only a girl and the forest is not safe for anyone – touched or not. She will stay with us until we return to the steading, perhaps someone has come looking for her and if not; well it’ll be up to Geir what happens to her.” Ulf looked at the other three men, daring them to object, they obviously decided that this would not be wise. With mutters and a few sideways glances they turned away and began busying themselves.
“Almost ran me through? Thought I was a pig? Touched? Touched what?” realizing that she had spoken out loud when all eyes turned to her once more, Sarah took another breath trying to steady herself.
“Look, I don’t know where I am or who the heck you lot are. I am not touched just really very confused, I mean one minute I was standing in the museum looking at this big stupid stone and then…I think I fainted because then here I am – so where the heck is here and, and…argh!” Flopping to the ground once more, hands on her head, Sarah realized that you need to breathe when talking and that she probably sounded nuts. Perhaps that’s what he meant by touched?
Looking up her eyes met those of Ulf which were crinkling at the corners. Assuming he had just found her little outburst amusing Sarah smiled and shrugged, Ulf chuckled “So, you do have a voice a little screechy though for my liking”.
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“Good thing I wasn’t trying to make you like me then, eh?” She replied without thinking.
Ulf laughed out loud and still smiling passed her a hunk of meat off the spit that had been roasting over the fire. As Sarah bit into the meat the juices ran down her chin and fingers and for at least the next five minutes nothing else mattered except the greasy morsel between her fingers. After awhile, Sarah began to take in her surroundings and started to wonder what was going on. Before, she had been simply reacting to her situation but now she needed to think of possible explanations. Suddenly she had a thought.
“Hey, I get it. My Dad set this up didn’t he?” Sarah grinned at the four men who had stopped what they were doing, questions in their eyes.
“You lot are a part of some sort of Viking reconstruction thing aren’t you?” Laughing, she looked around expecting (or was it hoping) her Dad and his cronies were going to pop out from behind a bush...Surprise! But the only sounds she could hear were the chirping of birds in the twilight, the crackle and spit of the fire and her own heart thumping a merry tune. The smile on her face wavered and then disappeared altogether.
Ulf frowned, “Thing? This year’s one has been and gone, and as for Viking, well my raiding days are over as are Snorre’s”, a comment which was greeted with a snarl from the one called Snorre, “but the lads, Rolf and Arne, have just returned from a successful raid to the Kurland coast”. Rolf and Arne both looked up and grinned in the direction of Sarah, showing teeth that were in serious need of a dentist.
Rolf and Arne must have been brothers and apart from the dental issues were well groomed, both had shoulder length dark blonde hair, with braids at either side of their face and both had brown eyes that twinkled when they smiled. The tan on their faces suggested a life spent outdoors, the only thing that seemed to separate them was height and width.
One was taller than the other by at least a head but had the build that even the Hulk would have been proud of. The other, in contrast, was smaller and more efficient looking. Well if it ain’t the Hulk and David Banner themselves. Shaking herself, Sarah turned her attention to the other speaker.
Snorre, wasn’t that the freaky name Ulf gave him? Compared to the other three men, this one was less than well groomed and rather belatedly Sarah realised that the nasty odour was actually emanating entirely from this man. Unlike the others who seemed to take pride in their appearance, Snorre obviously had a different opinion about grooming. His bright orange hair was in disarray and she wondered if he owned a comb. A grubby face, dirty nails and a matted raggedy beard added to the picture. When he smiled, Sarah felt an overwhelming urge to brush her own teeth.
Boy, either these guys know their parts really well or…what? Or I’ve really somehow travelled back in time? Ridiculous! With a snort Sarah looked at the hairy faces which were still staring at her. It was hard to tell what they were thinking but she was sure she could see concern on Ulf’s face, suspicion on Snorres and amusement on the remaining two.
Perhaps I had better stop talking, in case they did decide to abandon me here in the middle of god knows where. Ulf, who appeared to be the elder of the four, had dark brown, shoulder length hair with a smattering of grey at the edges which was kept in order by the presence of a piece of braided material circling his head. His beard had been neatly trimmed, covering most of his face and once again a sprinkling of grey indicated his age.
“Well Ulf, you found her so it’s your decision but personally I think we should leave her here, I mean she could be a creature of the underworld sent to trick us”, said Rolf (aka David Banner). Snorre rumbled an agreement and Arne stood silently to one side, just watching, neither agreeing nor disagreeing.
Ulf stroked his beard, brows furrowed. Rolf had a point, it would be a sensible thing to do but he was not in the mood to be sensible, besides there was something about the girl that he couldn’t put his finger on. At the very least it would annoy Geir. With a wide grin, Ulf turned to the others.
“My decision stands, we take her to the village and let Geir decide”.
Feeling that she had just been given a stay of execution, her heart slowed to a normal rate and another feeling took over, thirst. Wondering if she should speak again, Sarah nervously swallowed.
“Umm, could I have something to drink please?”
Arne threw a bag at her and managing not to embarrass herself Sarah caught it deftly. It was a goat skin with liquid sloshing around in it. With great trepidation she pulled out the stopper and took a sip. Expecting something totally disgusting she was surprised when it tasted quite pleasant, a bit like her Nan’s honey mead. Suddenly her situation came crashing down on her. Dad’s going to think I’ve run away again, he’ll send me back to Cornwall or worse, that snot nosed school!
He had only just agreed to have her accompany him on this summer’s dig. She was going to be his assistant and show him how useful she could be and it was meant to be a new beginning. Deep in thought, tears began to well in her eyes as she took another sip of the mead.
“Hey girl, don’t hog the mead, pass it round!” growled the ugly one who had wanted to leave her in the forest. Startled out of her thoughts, Sarah hastily handed the goatskin over.
“Ay Snorre, leave her alone” said Ulf as he handed Sarah a rough wool blanket. “Here roll up in this and try to get some sleep, we have a good walk to go before we reach our steading”. As she attempted to make herself comfortable on the hard forest floor Sarah was positive that she wouldn’t be able to sleep. With her eyes closed she did the deep breathing exercises that Nan had taught her to do and as each of her muscles relaxed so too did her mind...sleep eventually claiming her.
Sarah woke with a start. Looking around she noticed the low fire, the four men packing up, the twitter of birds, the sun not yet risen (who the heck gets up at this time!) a shiver rattled her teeth…nooo it wasn’t a dream!
“Come on girl, time to be moving” said Ulf far too cheerfully for Sarah’s liking.
Not being a morning person, Ulf’s cheerfulness grated on her last remaining nerve and she snapped “My name is Sarah! Not girl! Sarah, okay?”
Holding up his hands in mock surrender and not in the slightest bit taken aback by her tone, Ulf smiled “Okay, Sarah it is. Now roll up the blanket and get ready to move”.
Rolf and Arne led the way, followed by Snorre, then Sarah with Ulf bringing up the rear. The pace set by the front two was not fast but still had Sarah puffing after only a short time on the move, whilst they hadn’t even broken a sweat and Sarah got the feeling they had modified their pace to suit her. Naturally this made her more determined to keep up. Eventually the half jog had become an automatic action, freeing Sarah’s mind to tackle the nutty problem of where she was and how she came to be here.
The first, she guessed would be answered when they got to wherever it was they were heading, the second was a bit more difficult.
Chapter Two