Wilson's Words

I found myself awake through till the early hours of the morning once more. Thoughts, memories, visions and dreams whirling round my mind but never truly settling, always teasing my mind with the prospect of rest but never giving. I lay there still and quiet, listening to my own breathe, listening to the silence of the house as everyone else slept on. Occasionally I would hear the family dog whimper or bark in its own reverie of dreams out in the hearth area, sometimes interrupted with the loud bear like snore echoing from my parent’s chamber at the other end of the longhouse. The only noise that remained constant was the gentle dying rumble of the hearth embers like a swirling current upon small pebbles.
An owl hooted.
I hadn’t heard that owl for nearly over a week and I already believed it to have flown away from me to some place I could not follow.
It hooted again, closer this time.
I leaped out of my bed, grabbed my cloak off the wall and crept out after making sure the dog stayed in his bed by giving him a piece of meat to content his curiosity. Drawing out a candle, I kept hidden in a pocket I had sewn into my cloak; I put it to the brier torch outside the door and ventured into the stable shack. The horses blinked mindlessly at me whilst others merely swished their tails, I looked around and found the small milking stool I used for the cows and placed my candle in the small circular hole on its lid. Casting my eyes around I noticed a more prominent darkness against the hay pile on the floor near the back.
“Kennari?” I whispered my hand was already reaching for a pitchfork leaning against the wall. My mind was wary of thieves or raiders in the night but my heart desperately wished that the owl call was not a trick from a lack of sleep.
A groan came out of the gloom in reply. “Kennari? Is that you?”
“Aemilia…” the voice that had enchanted me so many times sounded so unfamiliar, so unlike him almost unnatural. Fear and worry quickly clawed their way up my spine and into my heart, filling my mind with imagined possibilities of all the injuries that had been inflicted on past outlaws when caught on lands, once home but now forbidden to them.
I grasped the stool and carried it in a rush to the dark mass before me. Only when I set the candles light against his body did my worst fears confirm themselves. The patch of darkness was Kennari lying milk white and his blood draining in a torrent around him. The source was a clogged black rag held tight by his trembling hands on his chest just above his waist. On instinct and vain hope my hands went to the rough piece of jet carved into a hare that I wore round my neck as a follower of Freya.
“Ken what has happened to you?” I whispered, swallowing hard in an attempt to control the wave of tears that longed to pour from my eyes at such a sight.
“Got caught…didn’t I?” He muttered back, his voice so weak and hoarse.
“When? By who?” As I asked I untied my cloak from my shoulders and began tearing strips from the bottom seam without a moment’s hesitation or thought.
“Uncle…Sven… I was trying to…steal some cheese…from pantry.”
“Oh Ken! Why didn’t you come to me? Why didn’t you come here for food if you were going hungry?” The frustration and disappointment acted as a firm barrier in my throat to the sorrow I felt inside. From the wincing look in his eyes it was hard for me to decide whether he was wincing at my anger or the pain.
“I couldn’t…you said your father noticed…the bread missing…last time. Didn’t want…to get you…into trouble.” At that response I bit my bottom lip hard trying to contain the growing number of emotions that tossed and turned in a vicious current within me.
“We’ll argue about this later. First you must let me put a clean swab of cloth in that wound.” He nodded slowly, swallowing hard himself as I gently prized his chilled trembling hand away from his chest. In doing so a fresh river of blood began flowing but as soon as I had gotten most of the rags out of it I pushed in my ball of stripped cloth, fixing his hand back on top. I didn’t want to leave any already soiled material in there in case the wound began to fester and become infected. “I can’t believe Sven did this to you. How did he do this?”
“His dogs…”
“Those two big black mongrels? How did you escape?”
“Dragged myself up…a tree. Sat there…till morning…then made my way here.”
“Was the wound this bad then?”
“No, only a small…wound. Opened up…when I fell on some rocks crossing the fjord.”
“Is this why you took so long to visit? I hope Frey curses Sven’s flock with disease for this.”
“Not his fault.” That remark surprised me because I was boiling over with frustration at this unfortunate situation.
“It is his fault Ken; I doubt you would set your dogs upon your own nephew like this. Families should support each other not…treat others with such dishonourable behaviour.”
“I’m an outlaw Aemilia, I have…no family.”
I groaned to myself. “Don’t you start this talk again Ken, you do have a family but due to your own foolish actions they are forbidden from supporting you when you need it most. Your poor mother would faint at the sight of you now. Just thank Odin you have me at least.”
A smile appeared within his eyes even though his own mouth was chattering with the cold. Very little of clothing was left upon him now. “I do…every day.” For that moment he seemed like the cheeky rogue I knew before.
“Right, you need proper medical help for this would Ken; it needs cleaning out and patching up. I can’t provide that care here in the stables. We’re going to have to take you into the house. Away from all this…”
“NO!” his voice bellowed out in a short burst before immediately collapsing deeper into the hay with the strain causing fresh agony upon his body.
“Why in Hel’s name not? Ken you will die if you stay here and do not get that wound treated.”
“Your family…”
“My family will just have to either help or keep out of it. I’m old enough now to make my own decision and make my own mistakes. Personally I do not view you as a mistake Ken. Beside, if we’re quiet they will never know.”
“I don’t want…you to be…punished…”
“Ken shush! One thing at a time hey? First we need to clean you up and tend to that wound. Mother should have the right herbs to do such a thing. Can you stand or walk?” I demanded more than asked whilst staring deep within his eyes pushing my feelings of worry and determination to the front in hope that he could see I’m serious about my actions with no hesitation or regret. He nodded weakly. “I’ll get a pitchfork for you to lean on whilst I lift you under your other arm.”
With great struggle I managed to haul him to his now unreliable feet, locked the pitchfork under his arm and with me at his other side, stumbled and dragged him into the house. Carefully lowering him upon a bench against the wall before raking the fires ashes up for warmth and light. He had not uttered a word or groan since the stables, the only noise that came from his pale face was his chattering teeth.
“Do not worry; once the fire is alive you will get warmer. Here rest your head on this.” I whispered softly, wrapping my cloak into a rough pillow and placing his head upon it. “Just try and get some sleep. I’m just going into the pantry to find some of those herbs and pieces of clean cloth. I will return never fear.” I gave him a kiss upon his forehead as he closed his eyes, the weariness and pain of his travels sweeping sleep across his mind.
Walking away from him gave chance to the rush of tears I had controlled before but I only wept once I was in the pantry and alone. I had brought the family dog with me for fear of it becoming curious and licking Kennari’s wounds which would not do him any good. When inside the small back chamber of the house I felt my spirit crumble and allowed myself to slide down to the floor. I do not know how long I knelt there crying. During those moments of despair I felt lost to all time and place, an oblivion of darkness and emotion. I only woke from the nightmare to the warm touch of my dogs tongue licking my face of tears.
Looking into the dogs shimmering eyes ignited a feeling of resolve and vigorous determination inside me with which I quickly searched and found the herbs and cloth I needed before striding smooth and quietly away from the pantry. When I stepped into the living area once more I stopped still as if I’d been hit on the head from a blow of Thor’s great hammer Mjöllnir. A figure in white was kneeling beside Kennari and ever so silently covering his body in wool blankets. Only when they turned did I realise it was my mother in her nightdress but I still did not move.
“Did you bring some of the dried dock leaves?” She asked, holding out her hand as the power in her voice bid my legs to move towards her and placed the small pot jar into her hands.
“You’re not angry with me?” I asked my voice seemed distant with shock and a strange mix of surprise.
She raised her free hand and cupped my chin in it lightly, my eyes were transfixed in her own that shone ocean blue in the fire. I noticed that it was quickly devouring kindling wood that wasn’t there before. “Shush now, you’ll wake him up.” Was her only reply. Although I could not tell whether she meant father or Kennari.
I didn’t know what to say, to do, and to think. I just stood there, watching her as if I had never seen her before. Something in the way she acted didn’t seem true. There was a clear sense of determination in her posture as she ground the dock leaf and other herbs into a pulp. There was no anger, no fear no great worry or concern at Kennari’s presence. “You knew.” I simple stated my body felt numb as all the emotion of the past hour merged into one, overpowering all my senses.
“Yes, I knew.” She approached Kennari once more and gently pulled back the blankets to reveal his bloody chest, the cloth strips I had inserted into his body earlier already a dark red. “We can discuss this another time, for now I will need your help to stop the bleeding. He has lost too much already.”
“What do you need me to do?” With a stalemate silently agreed my focus returned to real situation at hand.
“Get a bowl from the kitchen and place it on the floor here, that way any blood that comes out will be caught in the bowl and not stain the floor. Otherwise I don’t know how we will explain it to your father in the morning.”
To begin our work we needed Kennari awake and he jolted upwards with fear as if Hel had run her corpse hand along his back when he noticed the presence of my mother but she told him he was safe and after a nod from me he surrendered to our care.
We unplugged my ball of rags from the wound, dabbed it with clean cloth and hot water, causing Kennari to groan behind closed lips several times yet from some hidden strength he managed to control it. Once the wound was clean I held a thick piece of leather over the gouge in his skin whilst mother spread with her finger tips the paste out of herbs and fat around the edge of the wound. Next came the difficult part. We had to lift Kennari up into a sitting position so whilst I held a mixed pad of leather and cloth over the wound mother used long strips of wool, cloth and string to wrap the bandage over and around his body before fastening it tight with an apron broach.
Once that was done we laid him to rest upon the bench once more, covering him in a thick layer of woven wool blankets and stoked up the fire some more. Mother and I cleaned up any mess as silently as possible, my father was only at the other end of the longhouse sleeping, as of yet unaware of mother’s presence being absent beside him.
“He is a brave young man. He dealt with his pain nobly.” She commented to me as we both knelt by the fire watching Kennari breathing in his sleep, a lot more relaxed than before.
“He is.” I agreed without question. A problem suddenly skittered over my mind. “His blood’s all over the hay stack in the stable. Don’t know how we’re going to explain that to father.”
“Don’t you worry about that Aemilia I will tell your father I was just doing a midnight offering to Freya, he has no reason not to believe me. He does not know a woman’s ways.”
“It will have to be a big offering to leave such a lot of blood behind.”
“I’ll say I killed several of the chickens.”
“How will you make our chickens disappear then?”
“Kill them and give them to Kennari. That way at least he need not risk his life again for food.”
“Why are you helping us?”
“I too know what it’s like to be in love.” I looked down into the fire overcome with a gush of embarrassment and guilt.
“Then you must now why I could not tell you about him.” I replied, looking at her once more sitting opposite me, her eyes sparkling in the light and her black hair glistening like jet brought up fresh from the sea.
“I know. But do not always presume I will be in the same frame of mind and thought as your father would be in this situation.”
“Then there is no chance Father will accept it?”
“I’m sorry Aemilia but no. Your father does not dislike or hate Kennari even though stealing sheep is not an honorable thing to do despite his good intentions. He would never want you to be unhappy my child but your father is a well respected farmer and friend to many within this community. If your relationship with Kennari were to be made public your father would not only suffer great humiliation but you also would be punished equal to Kennari’s sentence. You must understand it is not the humiliation and shame your father fears the most but loosing you.”
“Then what are we to do but meet in secret mother? How else are we to be together? I will not reject him.”
Mother was about to reply but she paused then stood up and went and collected something from a shelf nearby on the opposite wall. “Do you remember my brother Ragnar?”
“Yes but…” The male mirror image of my mother appeared in my mind, set against the backdrop of Black Sands beach and harbor with his fine trade vessel bobbing with the tide. He had only harbored in Black Sands the day before in order to deliver trade as well as visit family and friends here in Iceland.
“You know he has set up a fine farming estate in Norway and is always eager for more workers. I am sure that if we explain to him the situation then he would gladly welcome Kennari to his folds. If Kennari were to go with Ragnar to Norway he would have a job immediately once his wound has recovered and in doing so he will stay out of trouble and be well cared for until all this has passed.”
“He would be so far away though. Father would never let me travel to Norway on my own. If he went to Uncle Ragnar it would be impossible for me to see him again.”
“Yes Aemilia but if Kennari were to work with Ragnar he would earn a good reputation and maybe earn enough money worthy of your bride price so when his sentence is over he can travel back here and propose to your properly without the stigma of his crime and having worked close to the family your Father would welcome him most easily..”
“But Mother…”
“I know it means spending time so far apart but wouldn’t it be worth the chance to spend the rest of your lives together at the end of this year? You know as well as I that if he stays in Iceland it will only be a matter of time before he is caught and suffers injuries far worse than this. As well as the risk that you both will eventually be caught. Lies can only take you so far Aemilia. Love is too big a thing to hide. It is a choice you must both make.”
Considering mothers proposal I glanced over at Kennari who lay so still and peaceful, his chest raising in jagged breathes as each stretch of his muscles still caused him pain. Memories of the past nights we met fluttered past my eyes, of all the chances we were nearly caught in the stables or myself stealing food from the pantry. Deep down inside I knew that our love wouldn’t last long in such trapped conditions.

The following morning before dawn mother and I helped lift Kennari, who seemed to have much more colour in his skin, into our cart, hitch a horse to it and set off at a brisk trot to Black Sands.
Along the way I explained my mother’s idea to Kennari as he lay there still wrapped in many furs and a bleeding sack of the three chickens my mother beheaded for him in order to conceal the nights events. Once I had finished he closed his eyes for a time, at first I thought he may have fallen back to sleep until he finally turned and stared up at me.
“Do I have to leave my home?” he asked, no hint of emotion or motive behind such a question reminding me so much of his cold stone like face when he appeared at the Althing last month and received his sentence for his crime. I looked down at my hands which were cradling one of his own.
“No you don’t, but there is no other way we can keep seeing each other under such conditions Ken, you know this. Last night is fate reminding us of the problem. I would like it if you could stay here, with me, but I know that if you do it will only be a matter of time before you return to me with another injury or…not at all.”
He squeezed my hand warmly with understanding. “What if you come away with me?”
“You know I can not leave my family. Both you and my family are the most important people to me and I love you all the same so please do not ask me to choose. Mother’s idea is the only true chance we have Ken. I do not think my mother is trying to honestly keep us apart if she was she would have let you die last night but she helped. She is a wise woman Ken, she wants to help and her advice is sound. But it means…”
“Being apart.” He finished the line for me for tears were already bursting from my eyes again. “If I go to Norway with your Uncle, Aemilia, you know that during that time your father may push you towards marrying other men. I will not be there to stop him.”
“He can try Ken but I won’t allow it. I won’t agree to it. I’m twenty years old, old enough to have the right to choose a man of my own on my own terms. But the same can be said for you, we must both swear to be loyal to each other and only each other. Until we can be untied again.”
“Then I swear it Aemilia, I owe you at least that much for all you have done for me.”
“I swear the same but you must promise me you will come back, promise me?”
“I promise. I will come back.”
“Good because I will only be able to put off my fathers intentions for so long Ken. There will be a point where I can not refuse anymore. So you must come back, you must.”
“I will for as long as you can wait for me.”
With no more words to say to each other we lay together in the back of the cart, shielded by a leather covering, hiding from the rest of the world, from time itself and like so many nights before, wishing that things were different and hoping for the impossible.
As with all goods things our short time together to the port ended too soon. My mother drove the wagon carefully down the streets of the town directly towards the harbor and before my Uncle’s ship where he was summoned. Uncle Ragnar proved as understanding and sympathetic as my mother was about the situation and promised to take good care of him until he was fit enough to work.
I surprised myself for no tears came when we said our farewells. A gentle, tender kiss, a warm, comforting hug, those three powerful words ‘I love you’ and then he was gone, being led away aboard my Uncle’s ship, out of sight, out of reach but never out of mind.
So it is that I find myself, nearly six months on from that silent night, walking alone along the harbor’s sands, throwing sticks for my dog to catch. My eyes look to the distant horizon across the flowing and ebbing waters of the sea, waiting and hoping for that vessel to appear in the not too distant future and imagining being in his arms, feeling his lips on my neck and his breath on my skin. My mother’s final words of that day echo in my mind as those memories fade to my hearts depths once more, “true love comes to those who wait.”