by Sandra Hill
A devastated Rain arrived back at the farmstead finally. Not only was she crushed by the loss of Selik’s love, but she suspected he would go after Steven with deadly force now in his quest for vengeance. She felt that she had come full circle. All that time spent trying to heal Selik’s bitterness and persuade him to abandon his quest for revenge seemed fruitless if Selik was just going to pick up the self-destructive gauntlet again.
“The thickheaded bastard! How could he have thought you would consort with Steven willingly?” Ubbi exclaimed as he fussed over her many still-unhealed bruises.
“Steven is a handsome man, on the outside. And he can be very charming when he wants to be. He’s a consummate actor.”
“Well, still, Selik should have trusted in you.”
“Yes, he should have,” Rain said, her voice faltering. “He didn’t love me enough, apparently. If he did, he would have known I could never betray him. But my being with Steven blindsided him, placing one more brick in the wall of his hatred for Steven.”
Rain gathered Ubbi and the children to her. She needed to feel loved by someone.
King Athelstan had invited Rain to return to his court at a later date so he could talk to her more about the medical marvels of her country. Rain had promised she would, but she doubted she would ever see the “Scholar King” again. In parting, she had hugged Elgiva, who laughingly thanked her for specific details on the rhythm method of birth control. Not surprisingly, the king had refused her halfhearted offer of a vasectomy, especially when she’d mentioned the acupuncture needles she would need to use for a local anesthetic.
“The master will come back, my lady, once he comes to his senses,” Ubbi said, reaching over to pat her hand.
Rain wasn’t so sure, but a little part of her soul that hadn’t yet died hoped he was right. Inside, she prayed, Please, God, send him back to me.
Trust in Me.
Rain wasn’t sure she trusted anyone anymore.
Only Adam drew back from the excitement of her homecoming, silently wounded by Selik’s absence. She had explained to the children that the king had pardoned Selik on the condition that he leave the country, that he couldn’t come back to see them first.
Adam came up and put his hand in hers, sensing her pain, and whispered, “I will not leave you.” Then he went off to whittle on a piece of wood, staring ahead angrily. The wonderful little boy was like a grown man in a child’s body, far too perceptive for his age. Adela sat beside him on a bench near the hearth fire. Silently, with her thumb in her mouth, she laid her head against her brother’s arm in comfort.
The first few days, Rain remained hopeful that Selik would return for her. Her body grew stronger, and she tried not to think about the evil Steven and his friends.
Then days went by. And weeks.
Rain walked the lonely fields of the farmstead. She tried desperately to forget the precious love she’d held in her hands for a brief moment in time. And lost.
Then Adam disappeared, and Adela lay listless and moaning in her pallet with a stomach pain. Rain suspected the malady was psychosomatic, that Adela missed her brother so much that her emotional pain had become a physical one.
The late winter snows and blustery winds came, rattling the timbers of the ancient barn, exaggerating Rain’s growing feelings of loneliness and inadequacy and despair. She wanted to return to Jorvik and the Coppergate site so that she could travel back to the future. At least there, in the familiarity of her old life, she might be able to put back together the shattered pieces of her heart. She wanted to cry on her mother’s shoulder, knowing Ruby would understand.
But she could not leave until Adela was better. And Adam returned. Where had the foolish imp gone? Adela said he had an errand to do in Jorvik. That had been almost a week ago.
The cold weather aggravated Ubbi’s arthritis, and he remained in his pallet, apologizing profusely for his weakness. Rain tended lovingly to the dear man who had become like a father to her. She would miss him terribly.
Ella, who came to visit her occasionally, but more likely to cozy up to Ubbi, offered Rain more advice than she cared to hear. “Best ye git yer chin off the ground and look about. There be other fish in the sea besides that Selik. Find yerself another man, I say.”
“Easier said than done,” Rain retorted.
The next week, Rain received a letter from Elgiva. The chatty note gave her news of the court and Elgiva’s growing relationship with the king, then mentioned casually that Selik was still at Winchester. Apparently, he and Athelstan had come to a truce of sorts.
Rain gasped and tears smarted her eyes. Despite all her protestations to the contrary, deep inside, she’d been hoping that Selik would come to his senses. If he still loved her, even if he believed she’d been with Steven willingly, he would have come back to her. He must not love her anymore.
And, if he no longer loved her, she had no future here in the past. Stoically, Rain began to make plans. No matter what Ubbi said, or Gyda, or Ella, Rain would not be dissuaded. She was going home. To the future.
Two days later, on Good Friday, Rain kissed all the children and Ubbi good-bye, hugging them tearfully. She gathered together the dragon brooch she had brought with her, the amber beads Selik had bought for her, and his precious wood carving of a wolf. When he’d given it to her, his words had been, “for remembrance.” She hadn’t realized then how appropriate the sentiment would be.
She walked alone to Jorvik and the Coppergate site where her whole time-travel experience had started.
Almost seven months had passed since the day she’d stood under the scaffolding in the Viking museum in York. She wondered if any time would have passed in the future. Maybe not. Maybe her mother would still be asleep back at the hotel. Maybe she would emerge from the plaster on the floor, dust herself off, and resume her old life as if nothing had ever happened.
Then again, maybe not.
Selik walked toward the Southampton harbor, having finally escaped the Easter revelry in the crowded Winchester castle the day before. He could now make his way back to Northumbria and Rain, at last. After weeks of negotiating, Athelstan had agreed to allow him to stay in Britain on the condition that he pledge his loyalty to the king—not against his fellow Norsemen, but in any other military endeavors. And, of course, the Saxon treasury was now significantly larger. His ship should be ready to sail in a day or two, having sustained some winter damage.
He hoped Rain had received his missive telling her of the king’s insistence that he stay at court until they arrived at this tentative truce, but he was uneasy about the crafty Saxon merchant who had accepted his coin with oily promises of a quick delivery.
As he neared the harbor landing, Selik noticed the longship of Hastein, a Jorvik merchant. Mayhap, if Hastein was returning to Northumbria before Selik’s ship was ready, he would travel with him.
“Selik, just the man I have been looking for,” Hastein called out in a blustery voice. “I have a gift for you.”
His interest jarred, Selik helped Hastein onto the wharf, no easy task since the ship owner was carrying a roll of heavy tapestry which seemed to be moving oddly. And emitting grunting noises.
Noises Selik regretfully recognized.
He stood stone-still. Nay, it could not be so, he told himself with a shake of the head, even as Hastein unrolled the tapestry with a grin and a flourish.
And a cursing Adam came jumping to his feet.
“You bloody cod-sucking cur!” Adam snarled, going for Hastein’s thick belly with hands clawed.
Selik grabbed him by the back of his filthy tunic, which stank of fish, and lifted him off the ground. Cursing and flailing, Adam called Selik and Hastein names even Selik had never heard before.
Hastein explained briefly that the scurvy whelp had stowed away on his ship in a barrel of salted fish. He gladly turned him over to Selik, claiming the boy had nigh turned his sailors to murder with his filthy mouth and arrogant manners. Finally, Selik carried Adam over his s
houlder to a nearby clearing, where he dumped him on the ground.
“What are you doing here, Adam?”
Selik sat down and propped his back against a tree, waiting for Adam’s response. True to form, Adam refused to sit and stood over him, hands on hips, glaring furiously.
“I came to see you, you bloody bugger.”
“Watch your language.”
“Me language is not the problem.”
“What is?”
“The mistress. Rain.”
Selik sat up straighter. “What is wrong with Rain?”
“She be goin’ away.”
Selik felt a tight, squeezing sensation near his heart, and for a moment he could not breathe. “Where?”
He shrugged doubtfully. “Back where she came from, I think.”
Selik inhaled sharply. “Did she get my missive telling her of my delay?”
Adam glared at him suspiciously. “She got no messages from you.”
Selik groaned. “How long since you have seen her?”
Adam shrugged. “Two sennights, mayhap.” He scowled at Selik. “Are ye goin’ back to her?”
“What makes you think she would want me?”
“Are ye such a bloody lackwit ye do not know when a woman loves you?”
Selik felt a grin twitching at his lips. “And you know of such things?”
“I may have seen only seven winters, but I know when a wench spends a mancus of gold on sugar and nigh poisons a dozen poor orphans jist to make a present for a man. Humph! If ’tis not love, then I do not know aught.” He handed a filthy sheaf of folded parchment to him, tied with an equally filthy ribbon that might once have been blue.
Viewing Adam suspiciously, Selik opened the package carefully. At first, he just stared at the items before him. Several dozen red objects stared back at him, like bloodshot eyes—some circles, some egg-shaped, others looking like squashed radishes. “What are they?” he asked, raising his eyes to Adam’s.
Adam made a snorting sound of disgust. “Do ye know nothin’? They are Lifesavers. Cherry Lifesavers. The mistress made ’em herself fer yer Christmas present, but ye ne’er came. And ye made her cry, too.”
Selik picked up one of the candies, about to pop it in his mouth, when Adam put a hand on his arm. “I would not be doin’ that if I were you,” he cautioned.
“Why not?”
“They taste like horse shit.”
Two days later, Selik said his farewells to King Athelstan. He would be leaving on the morrow. For Northumbria.
“And who is the churlish boy standing next to you?” Athelstan asked.
Selik looked down at Adam, who was so grateful that he was going back to Jorvik with Selik that he stared at him like a lovesick puppy. He swallowed hard before he was able to speak. Then, putting a hand on Adam’s shoulder, he told Athelstan, “This is my son, Adam. My adopted son.”
Five days later, Selik’s longship turned into the Humber. Selik begrudgingly credited Adam’s persistent prodding of his seamen for their rapid progress. More than one fierce Viking had been heard to remark, “Throw the little bugger over the side.”
No sooner did his ship hit the confluence of the Ouse and Foss Rivers at Jorvik than Selik rushed ashore and headed for his farmstead. And Rain.
Adam followed close behind, giving him instructions on how to behave with Rain. “Make sure ye do not yell. Ye have a tendency to roar on occasion.”
“Be quiet.”
“And mayhap ye ought to pretend ye liked her Lifesavers. Women like sweet words.”
“Be quiet.”
“Perchance ye could remark that she does not look quite so ungodly tall as last time ye saw her. She worries about bein’ big, ye know.”
“Be quiet.”
“And whatever ye do, do not be throwin’ her on a bed and plowin’ her first thing.”
Selik inhaled sharply and stopped dead in his tracks. Hands on hips, he turned to glare at the impudent scamp.
“I know, be quiet.”
Adam was the first to see the children playing in the fallow fields of the farmstead. Noticing Adela, Adam ran ahead and hugged his sister warmly. Then he threw his shoulders back and puffed his chest out with self-importance as the other children questioned him about his great adventure.
Hearing the noise, Ubbi came out of the barn and exclaimed, “Well, ’tis about time. We had given up on you.”
“Where is Rain?” Selik asked immediately, his eyes darting about the farmyard. Ignoring Ubbi, he rushed inside the barn, but it was empty, the early spring weather having drawn everyone outside—except for Ella, who was stirring a pot over the fire.
Ella! Bloody hell! She must finally have trapped Ubbi.
Seeing him for the first time, Ella scowled condemningly and muttered, “Bloody bastard,” before turning her back on him rudely.
“Where is she?” he asked Ubbi once again when he went back outside.
Adela came rushing at him, wrapping her little arms around his legs. He whisked her up into his arms, and she wrapped her thin arms around his neck, kissing his face wetly. “Missed me, did you, Adela?” he asked, twirling her high above his head, to her delighted squeals.
She nodded her head up and down vigorously. He noticed that her thumb was no longer planted in her mouth. She seemed happy and unfearful, unlike the shivering child he had first seen on the street in Jorvik.
“He is me father now,” Adam boasted to the other children, jerking a thumb toward Selik.
“Fer shame, Adam, tellin’ such tales,” Ubbi chastised the little boy. He darted a look of apprehension toward Selik, knowing how he misliked reminders of his lost son.
“He is, too. Yea, he is,” Adam protested indignantly to Ubbi. “He ado…adopted me.”
Ubbi looked up at Selik in question.
He shrugged. “I had no choice. He came for me at Athelstan’s court and threatened me with Lifesavers if I would not do his bidding.”
Adam grinned at him, happy as a pup.
Selik put Adela down gently and looked directly at Ubbi. Ubbi’s eyes shifted nervously.
“Where is she?” he asked in a low voice, almost afraid of the answer.
“Gone.”
He closed his eyes for a moment and put a hand to his heart. Please, God, please!
Trust in me.
Hah! Look where it got me so far.
Perhaps you haven’t trusted enough.
He inhaled deeply and asked, “When? When did she leave?”
“This morn.”
Selik’s eyes shot open. “This morn? How could that be? The very day I return to Northumbria, she chooses to go back to her own country?”
“She goes every day,” Ubbi said with disgust.
“Every day?”
“Ye sound like a bloody parrot.”
Selik growled menacingly at Ubbi, and he backed away. “Tell me afore I pull out your tongue.”
“She goes to Coppergate every day. Packs that bloody bag of hers, says good-bye to all of us, cries a bit—Lord, the woman can cry a goodly amount—and—”
“Argh! Spit it out afore I pull out your tongue and tie it in a knot.”
“Testy, are ye?” Ubbi said. “What I bin tryin’ to tell ye is that she lost the aura.”
“Aura! What aura?”
Ubbi threw his hands up in the air. “I jist knew ye would ask me that, master. Truly, I do not understand these things. The aura—’tis what God sends down to bring His angels back to heaven, I s’pose. I do not know, really.”
Selik began to understand. He had felt the strange pulling sensation that day on Coppergate, months ago, when Rain had tried to go back to the future. She claimed her time-travel had begun there. ’Twas the site where she believed she would have to go to return to her own time.
A chill spread over Selik’s flesh, and he braced his hands at his sides for strength. “When did she leave?”
“Afore midday. She is usually back by now,” Ubbi said, biting his bottom lip wor
riedly. “Mayhap it finally worked fer her today.”
Selik looked at the lowering sun in the sky. It was late afternoon. Had the “aura” finally worked for Rain on the very day he returned? Surely, God could not be so cruel. He looked upward then. Could You?
You wound Me with your lack of trust.
Selik turned on his heel then, without saying another word, and headed back toward Jorvik.
Chapter Twenty-two
He did not meet Rain coming back to the farmstead. Nor did he find her at the Coppergate site.
And, most frightening of all, the aura had disappeared. Selik tramped all through the abandoned building and its yard. Nothing.
Rain must have come, found the aura, and gone.
Tears filled his eyes, and he rocked from side to side. Was this to be his punishment for the past ten years of bloody fighting? How could he bear the pain of her loss for the second time? For a long time, he stood staring about him, unable to move. He felt as if a huge weight lay over him, crushing out all his life forces, his will to go on living.
Finally, with a groan of despair, he turned and headed back toward the farmstead. He walked woodenly through the city streets, unseeing, racked with the pain of his lost love.
Recriminations hammered away at him. He should have loved her more. He should have trusted her and cherished her love while he had it. He should never have rejected her at Winchester.
He was nearing the minster steps when he saw Bernie—Father Bernard—enter the huge oak doors. A sudden thought occurred to him. He had much wealth. Mayhap he would make a donation to the hospitium in Rain’s memory. That would please her. He could even ask the church to mark his donation in the church records in her name. Perchance Rain would read of it many years hence and know that he had come back to her. That he had, indeed, loved her.
“Father Bernard,” he called out as he rushed through the church aisles and caught up with him near the entry to the hospitium.
The priest turned abruptly, then gasped. “Father Ethelwolf! Where is your priestly garb?”