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28 |Sigtuna, Roden (Modern Day Stockholm County, Sweden) 989 AD
Magnus leaped from the prow of his vessel, his feet splashing in the cold waters, the numbing effect going unnoticed as he rushed toward his family and friends, already gathering at the shore, the word having gone out the moment their sails were spotted.
He embraced his mother, lifting her from the ground as she kissed him on alternating cheeks repeatedly. The crowd parted as his father approached, and Magnus beamed a smile at him before taking a knee.
“Get up, get up! I’m too old a man for you to waste the precious minutes I have left on protocol.”
Magnus laughed and rose, exchanging a hearty hug with his father, then standing back and assessing the man’s health. “You look well.”
“I feel well. It’s the season. The cold always brings out the best in me.”
Magnus glanced over his shoulder to see Fatima standing at the shore, Olav at her side, having helped her from the boat. “Father, Mother, I would like you to meet what brings out the best in me.” He held out his hand and Fatima smiled nervously, the entire crowd settling into a hushed silence, all eyes on the love of his life. She took his hand. “Father, Mother, may I present Fatima Halabi, originally of Aleppo, daughter of Najeeb and Abeer, and the woman I intend to marry.”
Gasps abounded, even a few shocked utterances erupting in protest. For it was clear from Fatima’s appearance that she wasn’t one of them. Though most here had never seen a Muslim, they had heard of them and their strange ways. For a future king to take one as his wife, to bear children that might one day rule these lands, was unthinkable to many.
Yet in time, they would grow to love her as he did. And should it come to pass that they didn’t, he would readily step aside for his younger brother to inherit. He had no designs on the throne, and never had. He was born into something he had never desired, nor aspired to.
He maintained his smile, though he could tell his mother was shocked, and his father was concealing, unsuccessfully, his own displeasure.
“We must speak.” His father spun on his heel, heading back toward their home. Magnus took Fatima’s hands in his, speaking in Arabic so she knew what was going on.
“Wait here. I must speak with my father.”
“He hates me. They all hate me.” Tears erupted and his mother rushed forward, taking Fatima from him.
“You poor girl. Don’t mind my foolish husband, he’ll come around. Let’s get you inside where it’s warm and dry. You must be hungry and tired.”
“She doesn’t speak Norse, Mother.”
“Then you know your first task, don’t you?”
“Yes, Mother.”
Magnus’ heart warmed as Fatima was surrounded by the women of his home, their tone friendly and comforting, Fatima’s tears replaced with flashes of a shy smile as she was led away.
“Sir, sails on the horizon!”
Magnus didn’t bother to look, for there was no doubt who they were, and the fact they were now visible, meant they would be here within hours. “Prepare for battle.” His order was barely above a whisper, yet the response was swift as the men and women of his homeland sprang into action, leaving the way clear for him to join his father, and explain why so many were about to die.
Fatima found herself inside a home unlike any she had ever seen. She was accustomed to homes made from stone in Iberia, yet here everything seemed constructed from the forests that surrounded them. It was different, exciting, and a little overwhelming. A hearty fire roared at one end of the long building, and at least a dozen women of varying ages were tending to her. She wasn’t used to being touched, and their tongue was foreign, only a smattering of words understood, almost all with no context.
It was overwhelming.
Yet she maintained control. Or at least she thought she had. Her future mother-in-law grabbed her trembling hands then snapped an order that was immediately obeyed, the tent emptying. The old woman said something to her, a smile on her face, but Fatima had no idea what she was saying.
And it was frustrating her.
“I wish Magnus were here. At least he could translate.”
The woman’s face brightened. “Magnus!” She pointed at Fatima, then her heart, then repeated his name.
Fatima’s eyes narrowed then she smiled. “Do I love Magnus?” She nodded vigorously, tapping on her heart with her hand. “Yes, I love Magnus.”
“Love.”
“Yes, love. I love Magnus.”
The old lady smiled, pleased with this revelation, then turned her head and shouted something. Two of the women returned, more subdued this time, and set to providing them both with food and drink.
It was then that she finally noticed the barked words and sounds of heavy activity outside, and a sense of foreboding spread through her body.
They’re here.
Rafiq stood at the prow, surveying the shoreline ahead. It was clear they were expected, and that the reception was not to be peaceful. And that they would be far outnumbered by the time they arrived. Their only hope of victory had been at sea.
Yet they had failed.
The men’s spirit wasn’t in it. These weren’t warriors. He had raised a fleet with ease, the sheik’s purse deep, but it was manning them with those who could fight that was the problem. He had heard of the Vikings and their prowess at war. They were vicious with an almost gleeful attitude toward battle and even death.
How one could be so willing to die for a pagan god, he had no idea.
And these men he now commanded, though capable sailors, were not battle hardened like those they were likely to face.
We won’t make it off the beach.
And he made a decision. “Signal the others to hold their position.”
“Sir?”
“You heard me!”
“But we’ll be slaughtered for sure!”
Rafiq shook his head, turning to the captain. “No, my friend, going in alone is the only way we won’t be.”
“I want an explanation.”
“I fell in love. What further explanation is there?”
Magnus’ father glared at him. “You dare to make light of this situation? We have an enemy approaching our shores. I am prepared to fight to the death. The question is, are you? Where do your loyalties lie, my son? Are they with your family? With your brothers and sisters? Or are they with your new bride from a foreign land, with beliefs so strange, they worship only one god?”
Magnus’ chest ached with the fact his father felt the question was necessary. “You know where my loyalties lie, Father. With you. With Mother. With my brothers and sisters, with our people. Never doubt that. I do not love her people. I think they’re backward in so many ways. But she is different from her people. Her spirit is exhilarating, her voice intoxicating, her beauty unparalleled. From the moment I set eyes on her, from the moment I heard her sweet voice, I knew she was the one Odin had made me sacrifice so much for, and would once again make me pay a price to attain. Happiness has been elusive to me, Father, you know that. When Astrid died, I thought I could never love again. That emptiness lasted many years. Until I met Fatima. I love her, Father, with all my heart, and I intend to marry her.”
His father regarded him for a moment. “Even if it is without my blessing?”
Magnus’ stomach churned, his heart hammering at the words. “Yes, Father, though it would crush my spirit should you not give it.”
His father sighed, shaking his head. “I always knew you were going to be trouble, boy, from the moment you tried to come out of your mother feet first. You did everything backward then, and you’re doing it again today.” He jabbed a finger at the life beyond the walls. “There are dozens, nay, hundreds of women, beautiful and willing, who would give anything to be your bride, yet you choose someone so many will find impossible to accept.”
“Then it is their loss. If you desire it, I will renounce my birthright and live the simple life of a commoner. You know I was never one to seek power.”
His father shook his head then approached him, placing an arm on Magnus’ shoulder. “You are my son, and I love you, no matter how foolish you are. If you love this woman, then I must accept that. How about you introduce me to her, so I can understand who we are about to shed blood for.”
Magnus smiled. “Thank you, Father. I know you’ll find her worthy.”