Chapter 44
Blood and Breath for Battle
In the morning, while Haldor and the men trained in the courtyard, úlvhild returned to her thatched roof hut in the village.
When she entered through the heavy wooden door with its ornate iron latch, Kól jumped from the luxurious pile of furs on the small bed and swirled in circles around her legs.
His loud purr sent rumbles up her limbs beneath the grey woolen gown.
She scooped him up and cradled him in her arms like a babe, caressing his silky black fur.
“I have a treat for you,” she cooed, setting him down onto the rush-strewn pinewood floor and fetching a small bowl from her wooden shelf.
She flaked the fresh fish from dagmál into the container and set it down before her beloved cat.
Kól pounced on his delectable feast.
úlvhild opened the windows on opposite sides of the cottage, to let in the cleansing saline breeze and the crisp scent of the nearby forest. With her firesteel tool, she coaxed sparks into small flames, adding timber until a roaring fire flickered in her stone hearth.
From the covered jars and vials on her shelf, she selected juniper, meadowsweet, and sage, tossing the herbs into the flames.
As the dark purple berries crackled and snapped, the resinous scent wafted into the warm air.
She carried leather pouches to the polished table, spreading amethysts, emeralds, garnets, and assorted glittering gems for the women to select stones which they would imbue as protective talismans for their men.
A larger pouch contained silver bezels which she would heat with tongs, etching runes into the metal with the tip of her dagger, Freyja’s Whisper, before shaping them to fit the stones.
Beside the ornate dagger, which she laid upon the table, she set the gem-encrusted silver chalice reserved for blood rituals, just as the women arrived at her door.
While they hung their cloaks on hooks near the entrance and searched among the gems, Kól dashed to greet Vivi, who had cared for him while úlvhild recovered in the Dragon’s Leap cave.
After the girl stroked his sleek black fur, the contented cat jumped through the open window, off to hunt and explore.
úlvhild approached the young priestess, who had inherited her mother Ylva’s otherworldly gift of sight through water—like her older brother Skjold—and was now training to become a volva.
She gave the girl of twelve winters an affectionate hug.
“Thank you for taking such good care of Kól,” she whispered in Vivi’s ear.
“Please accept this as a token of my gratitude.” She gave Vivi a silver band set with a glittering dark green gem.
“Emerald… like the ring I once gave your moeir—to heal her broken heart. The same stone she selected for the emerald talisman she crafted for your faeir.”
When Vivi slipped the ring on her delicate finger, úlvhild added, “Sk?rde has always worn it into war. It saved his life in the battle against the Raven Warrior, when he helped your áfi, Jarl Rikard, reclaim his fortress in Fécamp.” She tenderly pushed a strand of long blonde hair from Vivi’s glowing face.
“May it protect you, and enhance your gift of sight.”
“Thank you, úlvhild. I shall treasure it always.” Vivi wrapped her arms around úlvhild’s shoulders and squeezed her tight.
“Come, let’s see which stones they have chosen.” úlvhild led the girl to the table, where Vivi sat down on the bench beside her mother. Gratitude and love shone in Ylva’s bright blue gaze as she wordlessly thanked úlvhild.
úlvhild poured mead into the elaborate silver chalice and set it on the table beside her dagger, Freyja’s Whisper.
Though she would consume no herbs to induce a trance—for fear of harming the babe in her womb—she tossed meadowsweet, angelica, and yarrow into the flames of the hearth.
As the sweet smoke curled into the air like supplicant fingers reaching to the gods, she thumped her moonstone staff on the wooden floor of the hut like a drum, chanting a vardlokkur to summon benevolent spirits and the Norse gods.
Vivi and Ylva joined their voices to hers, the same melodic trio that had blessed the ships sailing to battle in ísland, and would do so again in two days, when the men went off to war.
Leaning her staff against the wall near the fragrant hearth, úlvhild returned to the table where the glowing amber stone she had chosen for Haldor’s talisman lay beside the dagger.
“Prick the tip of your finger,” she explained, lifting the ritual knife and demonstrating as she spoke, “and let three drops of blood flow into the stone. Whisper an invocation to the god or goddess you have chosen, and seal the sacred blessing with your blood and breath.”
As the trio of scarlet droplets fell onto the amber stone, úlvhild invoked her blessed goddess.
“Freyja of the amber tears,
Goddess of love, war and seier.
Bless this gem with your golden light,
And guide my Falcon’s heart in flight.”
She let three additional drops from her fingertip fall into the chalice of mead. “Add three more drops of your blood to the goblet, which we will offer to the gods.” Wiping the tip of her dagger with a clean linen cloth, she passed Freyja’s Whisper and the silver chalice to Luna.
Pale blonde locks floating to her waist like the flowing sleeves of her deep green gown, the lovely Ljósálfar set a glowing ivory gem upon the polished table.
“This came from a slab of moonstone that the Elven masons cut for our home in the Moonlit Forest. I soaked it in the crystal waters of the ísilwen Spring, so that the joined essence of ísilskóga and nen glir will protect Njáll with the Ljósálfar light of álfheim.” As her blood bathed the pristine stone, Luna invoked the Shining God.
“Baldr the Bright, breathe your radiance into this moonlit stone. May the forest’s heart and crystal spring infuse my wolf in your shining name.
” She added three ruby red droplets to the silver chalice of mead, wiped Freyja’s Whisper clean, and passed the ritual knife and goblet to Sif.
Sif’s large eyes welled with tears. “It matters not to me that Bodo limps. I would love him even without legs.” Her lower lip quavered as she struggled to speak.
“But he cannot run…I fear he will fall to the Dokkálfar who trapped him… and caused his limp.” She lowered her crumpled face and sobbed into her hands.
úlvhild rose and rested a comforting palm on Sif’s shaking shoulder.
“The we shall invoke the Allfather, whose wolf blood flows in Bodo’s veins.
We shall ask that Odin imbue the stone with the speed and cunning of Mani and Skoll, the relentless wolves that chase the moon and the sun.
” She glanced at the deep purple gem which sparkled on the table before Sif.
“Amethyst,” she whispered with a knowing smile.
“The perfect stone to link Bodo with Odin.”
Sif wiped her wide eyes and smiled at Oda. “It’s the same gem as our wedding rings, gifted by Elfi’s amma.” She proudly displayed the silver band set with a glittering violet stone.
“We shall bathe it in your blood and breath, so that the boundless love in your fierce heart will shield your beloved wolf.” úlvhild reverently handed the dagger to Sif. “Three drops of your blood. To bind the blessing. And three more for the mead we will offer Odin in thanks.”
When Sif’s dark red blood flowed into the deep purple gem, úlvhild’s ethereal voice wafted on the herb-scented air of the sheltered woodland cottage.
“Odin, Allfather, god of war, wisdom, and wolves,
Breathe fleetness into Bodo’s lupine blood.
Let Fenrir’s jaws, Skoll’s speed and claws,
Wreak vengeance on the Dokkáfar who crippled his paw.”
Feral devotion and fierce gratitude shone in her dark brown eyes as Sif dripped a trio of scarlet droplets into the mead. She wiped the blade clean, passing both dagger and chalice to Elfi.
“For Njord’s amulet, I shall infuse a turquoise gem from the Caspian Sea, invoking the god for whom he is named.
” Elfi bathed the brilliant blue gem with three drops of her sjóvaettir mermaid blood.
“Njord… May your winds fill the sails of the wolf who bears your name, carrying him swiftly across the Narrow Sea to the mouth of the Seine. May your waves and tides lead him to triumph… and return him safely to me.”
After adding three droplets of blood to the mead, Elfi laid a fiery orange stone on the table before her.
“For my faeir, whose horse Blóeughófi is named after Freyr’s legendary mount, I shall invoke the god of steeds to grant strength and stamina for them both.
” She pierced her fingertip, imbued the gem with three drops of her loving blood, and whispered her invocation.
“Freyr, golden-hoofed god, may your fire flow from this gem bathed in blood into my faeir and his warhorse. Grant courage to their fierce hearts, strength to their swift limbs, and steel to Thorfinn’s triumphant sword.
” She dribbled three more droplets of blood into the shimmering chalice to seal her faeir’s blessing, and passed it, with Freyja’s Whisper, to Ylva.
“For my son Skjold’s amulet, I have chosen his spirit stone of lapis lazuli.
I shall invoke Divona, the Celtic Goddess of Sacred Springs, the ákkha spirit who spoke to him in a noaidi vision.
” Ylva pricked the tip of her finger, let the three droplets of blood fall onto the stone, and invoked the water deity whom she worshipped.
“Divona of the sacred spring,
áhkka spirit of divine sight,
Bless this stone of sea and fjord
And lead Skjold to fulfill his fate.”
After adding blood to the chalice, she laid a hematite gem on the table.
“This steel grey stone with threads of gold evokes the lightning of Thor’s hammer and the thunderbolt with which he marked my husband Sk?rde.
” With the sharp point of Freyja’s Whisper, Ylva slit a different fingertip and bathed the stone with her blood as she invoked the famed Norse god.
“Thor, god of thunder and guardian of Midgard,
Whose lightning seared my husband’s flesh
Infuse this stone with your divine light
That Sk?rde’s son Tryggvi wield Mjollnir’s might.”
When her Maman’s three droplets of blood had fallen into the chalice, young Vivi hesitantly chose a deep red stone. She sought permission from úlvhild with imploring eyes. “I would like to create a talisman, if I may.”
When úlvhild nodded, Ylva passed the dagger and chalice to Vivi. “It is for mon grand-père,” the young priestess explained. “I have chosen a garnet, for it is the color of his scarlet cloak—and his banner with the two golden lions.”
úlvhild smiled encouragingly at Vivi. “Garnet is the perfect choice for Jarl Rikard. Which god will you invoke for the blessing?”
“Tyr,” Vivi declared proudly, lifting Freyja’s Whisper to her finger.
“He is the God of Justice and Valor, who will guide Grand-père as he defends a new king, worthy of the crown.” When she let a trio of scarlet droplets flow into the stone, Vivi chanted in a combination of Norman French and Old Norse, the language of her two parents—and the dukedom of her grandfather, Richard the Fearless.
“Tyr, Dieu de Justice et de Vaillance, please protect mon grand-père. Guide his sword, and styrk hann— strengthen him in battle.”
After she had added three droplets to the chalice, Vivi passed the dagger and goblet back to Ylva. “Which stone did you choose for Skadi?”
Ylva showed her daughter the clear blue stone which glittered like an icy fjord.
“Aquamarine, like Skadi’s pale blue eyes—and the gem in the wedding rings I had crafted for her and Skjold.
” She pierced her fingertip and anointed the sparkling stone with three drops of blood.
“I shall summon the goddess for whom she is named.”
Ylva’s fluid voice flowed like a crystalline spring over the gem she imbued for her son’s new wife.
“Skadi, goddess of winter snow,
breathe your spirit into this sacred stone.
Bless my daughter, the frostdragon who bears your name.
May her flames of ice chill Frankish foes,
her scales shine with Ljosálfar light,
and her shimmering wings endure
the Dokkálfar’s shadowed storm.”
She completed the ritual by adding three more droplets of blood to the silver chalice.
As Ylva wiped clean the ritual dagger and returned the sacred blade to its ornate leather sheath, úlvhild strode across the rush-strewn floor, selected a small clump of myrrh from a covered jar, and tossed it into the flames inside her stone hearth.
She returned to the table and lifted the silver chalice etched with runes and embellished with glittering gems. The golden mead glowed with the blood of the women who had imbued the protective stones.
“We have crafted nine amulets and invoked nine gods—the sacred number of the Norns. Now we offer golden mead, to seal the blessing in blood and breath.”
úlvhild solemnly emptied the silver chalice into the roaring fire.
As the flames sizzled and snapped, the sweet scent of honey mingled with the coppery tang of blood and the spicy smoke of myrrh.
“O Freyja, Baldr, Odin, and Njord… Freyr, Divona, Thor, Tyr, and Skadi. We offer golden mead and myrrh in tribute. May our blood and breath bind your divine blessings into these sacred talismans and protect our kin in battle.”
With a pair of iron togs, she held the silver bezels over the fire, meticulously etching runes into the softened silver and blackening them with fragrant soot.
“Algiz, to protect our loved ones. Uruz, to give them strength in battle. And Ansuz, for divine guidance from the gods. A trio of runes in each talisman.” úlvhild shaped the silver settings to snugly encase the stones, then set them upon a silver platter to cool while she cut nine pieces of black leather cord, distributing them among the women.
When the silver bezels were ready, she said, “Thread the cord through the loop at the top to make a pendant. Give them to your men—and daughter—tonight at the farewell feast.”
As the women wrapped the talismans in leather and secured them in pouches at their waists, úlvhild fetched ceramic mugs from her small kitchen.
She poured mead for them all and raised her cup to propose a toast. “To the nine gods who have blessed the amulets. May they grant our loved ones victory in Paris and Noyon. And bring them safely home to the Pays de Caux. Skál!”