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AS HE STOOD NEAR THE harbor, the sleeves of Lothar’s new tunic flapped in the breeze, under the fur pelts he wore over his shoulders. Holding a knife concealed in his hand, he felt the icy night air blow with the promise of another snow. While Park and Serle walked the beach, each held a burning torch as the signal.
Waves broke against the shoreline. The tide beginning to recede reminded Lothar he was to board Rolf’s ship soon. He wanted to take Dara with him, but decided not to when he realized he’d already caused her enough hardship and pain. He knew he was a selfish bastard by leaving her without a word, but he had to get back to Oseberg. Traveling alone would be faster, and easier. Still, he had to find out who wanted his other cuff, before he boarded the ship anchored out in the bay.
He stared out at the rolling waves and watched as a coracle rowed ashore. A hooded figure stepped out of the small boat and walked up to Park and Serle, while a smaller man in the coracle rowed it just off shore.
“You get the cuff?” The cloaked man edged closer to Park.
Lothar recognized the voice. Memories of the storm flooded back to him.
“I had a bit of trouble, but it’s here,” Park told the man.
“Show it to me!” the man commanded.
Lothar stormed in front of Park. “He can’t, I’m still wearing it, Ivarr.”
“Lothar!” Ivarr yelled in surprise.
“So, you’re the one who wanted my cuff,” Lothar accused.
“You were supposed to be dead,” Ivarr sneered and drew a knife from his belt.
“By the oar you stabbed me with.” Lothar flipped out the concealed knife in his hand, holding out the blade to guard against an attack from Ivarr. He spotted Serle push Park, and together they scurried away.
“It was the storm.” Ivarr circled Lothar, waving the knife in his right hand.
“You tried to kill me.”
“The oar broke, and I was tossed around, while the waves broke across the ship.”
“Not that time,” Lothar argued. “I saw the look in your eyes.”
“How did you know I was here?” Ivarr snarled.
“Not many people have gold dinars from the Caliphate of the Abbasids on this island. I knew someone else survived.”
“I am the only other survivor,” Ivarr roared. “I have one cuff, which should be enough to secure Ulin as chieftain. And I want to thank you for repairing my boat.”
Stunned by the revelation, Lothar stopped. “Your boat?”
Ivarr seized the moment, and ran into the surf. “My boat,” he shouted. “You’d be surprised what a few gold coins can buy here.” Ivarr quickly pulled his body into the awaiting coracle.
Finally able to move after the shock, Lothar dashed into the cold surf, watching Ivarr and the other man row the coracle just out of reach.
“I will tell Ulin of your death, and return this cuff as proof,” Ivarr taunted.
“I still have the other one.”
“For you to get off this island, and back before I do, would require the act of the gods. I will return. I want to meet the woman you paid your cuff for. I wonder if she is worth it.” He laughed.
“You touch her, Ivarr, I’ll slice the blood eagle across your back,” Lothar warned.
“Until next time then,” Ivarr yelled.
Lothar stood helplessly as the tide carried Ivarr to a boat anchored offshore.
“Cast off!” Ivarr yelled as he climbed aboard the boat.
Lothar watched as the ship sailed away into the night. He turned and walked back towards the path.
Park and Serle come out of hiding. “Well done getting rid of that one.” Serle handed Lothar a linen cloth.
“You knew him?” Park asked.
“Yes,” Lothar said as he dried his legs.
“He stabbed you?” Serle asked.
“I survived.”
“I wonder where he’s headed?” asked Park.
“Mercia, Frankia, then home.”
Serle turned his head. “How do you know that?”
“That was the ship I repaired.”
Shocked, Park stepped back. “You?”
“I wanted to get home.”
“What about the witch?” Serle inquired.
“Her name is Dara. Either of you call her a witch again, I will personally cleave the tongue from your mouth!”
He watched them clamp their lips together and nod, understanding.
“Good.”
Park looked down to the sand. “Where is your home, Lothar?”
“North.”
“How long has it been?” Serle asked.
“Since early spring.”
“What about the...” Park began. “I mean Dara? Does she know you were leaving?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“None of your affair.”
“It’s just that I’ve seen the way you look at each other, and I would swear you two were hand-fasted,” Park said.
“Go back to your King,” Lothar ordered.
He waited until they were out of sight, then he turned and walked the four miles to the circle of stones. He knew Dara would be there. She told him there would be a celebration of Alban Arthuan that night.
Back home, he knew his people would also be gathering, to celebrate the Yule season, to welcome the return of the sun when the nights would finally turn into longer days.
Tonight, from a distance, he’d finally view Dara and her Sisters of the Stone Circle perform one of their rituals, and she would never know he was there.