Cum For The Viking by Virginia Wade

 
    Chapter One

 
 
    “So, who is my husband, mother?”
    She stared into a bowl, while the
wind howled outside, bringing a northern gale. “He’s not from around here.”
    I’d begged her for years to read the
leaves, to see my future, and she had finally capitulated. I sat on the end of
a rickety chair, waiting anxiously to hear her precious words. Her readings
were always accurate. This was why the women in the village harassed us day and
night, begging to know their future. Mother, being far too honest for her own
good, had angered many with her less than tactful responses. If she saw death,
she said so. If she saw misfortune, she said so. Her predictions had always
come to pass, and enemies had been made. The future could not be altered; it
was predestined, created by the forces of the universe.
    She moved the bowl, rearranging the
leaves, her brows drawing together. “I see…an invasion.” This declaration
seemed to surprise her.
    “What?”
    “They’re coming,” she whispered.
    “But what about my husband? I’m tired
of being alone. I want a man to warm my bed.” The men in the village shunned
me, as they did my mother, although some of them didn’t hesitate to come
calling in the middle of the night. Witches,
the women cried when they saw us. Harlots! I’d had stones thrown at me my
entire life. “You said I’d have love. You said I’d be worshiped. I’m tired of
waiting, mother.”
    “You’ll be worshipped, my dear. Your
husband comes…but he’s not what you think he is.”
    And now she would channel magic and speak
in riddles. “Go on.” I watched her carefully, her nearly black hair falling
over her shoulders.
    “He’s a great and powerful
man—”
    “You mustn’t humor me! I can handle
the truth. I know I’ll be a farmer’s wife. I’m fully prepared to yoke oxen to
the plough.”
    She held up a hand. “No. That isn’t
what’ll happen, Lora. You’re not destined to work the fields. You’ll have all
the pretty things you want with a pretty house. I see children. Several. But...”
    “But what?” I rested my elbows on the
table.
    “There’s some confusion here. I see
two men, but only the dark haired one will be your love, your protector. He’s
foreign.”
    “He’d have to be,” I said bitterly. “No
one in the village would marry me.”
    Her eyes met mine. “We have so little
time.”
    “Will something happen soon?”
    “This means change.” She pointed to
the clumps of moist tealeaves around the edges of the bowl. “Great change
comes, but you must be careful. I must be careful.” Her gaze took on a faraway
look. “I must plan.”
    “Will you travel again?”
    “Yes.”
    My heart sank. “Why?”
    “The future I see isn’t mine. I’d
only get in the way. I’m going inland. I’ll stay with my sister.”
    I lay my hand on hers. “Don’t go.
You’ve only just returned. I hate it when you leave me.”
    “You won’t be alone for long. He
comes soon. He’s going to take you away.” Her eyes watered. “Your future is far
away from here.”
    A part of me hoped she was wrong, and
the other part prayed she was right. I’d been an outcast my entire life, and my
prospects were bleak. Men went out of their way to avoid me, fearing me and the powers they thought I possessed . I wasn’t a
witch, but I did know the healing arts and how to derive medicines from plants.
My mother was the gifted medium. I didn’t possess her skills.
    “I wish you’d stay.”
    “I leave in the morning.”
    Alarm raced through me. “So soon?”
    “Yes, my dear. I’m sorry.”
    I slept horribly that night, tossing
and turning; the straw mattress was lumpy and uncomfortable. The wind howled,
the sides of our wattle-and-daub hut shaking. The thatch on the roof would
require patching in the morning. My mother was up before me, making the fire
and packing her belongings. I gazed at her, feeling a sense of loss.
    “Are you sure about this?”
    She glanced over her shoulder.