The Law Givers "Witch
Wife" - A Chronicle
by E. A. Morrissey
Written by E. A. Morrissey
Edited by James Pedrick
It has been one day since the conclave and I left the Orkneys and so we are on the last segment of our voyage. 'Twas a harrowing experience, its peoples steadfast, so stubborn were they, they would not listen to reason. At one point in our discussion the peoples became belligerent, women ET all. A thought came to mind about the atrocity at Lyn-des-Farne, was this going to happen again? My father was murdered with all the monks. Peaceful peoples were they 'twas a slaughter, monsters were the peoples of Hlorridi (Vikings).
This is what I thought and my life passed before mine own eyes. For the better part of the day I have been in communion with the "Lord Almighty" asking to strengthen my resolve because my "Mete" will surely be tested.
If the settler of the Orkneys are an indication of what is yet to come? I was brought out of my trance as the long boat started to lurch. I turned in all directions a storm has brewed out of the nonce, for some reason the abbot knew this was going to be a bad storm!
The master of ships was pacing the deck, looking concerned was he? His incantations were barely muttered.
The Abbot wasn't able to hear all of the incantation but two words he recognized Vingthor and Aegir, one a Sky God of the Storm and the other the king of the Seas. Blasphemy Bartholomb thought. He walked over to the master of ships preparing to dress him down.
The Master of ships was of middle age, long grey hair did he have, forelocks at either side braided to his waist. One trait that was uncommon was that of, he was beardless, he refuse to conform to convention his tastes differed to the current fashion, likes or not.
He saw the Abbot walking toward him. The Abbot must have heard his incantations to Aegir and Vingthor, all he wanted was safe passage: Somehow he doubted it though. Here was a "Holy Man" and his peoples, of a differing religion on HIS ship with the intentions of converting the "Oirish" Runners. No doubt had I, they will try to convert the 'Landers' on Ice, who are now known as Icelanders? He pitied the Icelanders, for the Abbot has powerful friends, over the years the abbot has had a compulsion to convert these barbarians to Christianity, It seems his life purpose!
That Spur of purpose was the destruction of Lyn-des-Farne, the friary, the hall of learning. His father was killed at that time and little did he know that the destruction of the friary was the direct result of the destruction of Thundersley, retribution that's all.
It should have been left at that but no, the compulsions to convert continued at a pace by force ET all. Why can't they let it be? Years gone by hid kinfolk of yore were tolerant of other beliefs, why cant the Christians do the same? All this passed in the time between the Abbot was going to address him.
"Why address the Heathen Gods, why not the One and True God, the savior of your soul, the Abbot Asked?
"Save thy prattling for someone that will listen Holy Man" "I'm the Master of ships, you charted the boats for a reasonable fare." "The ships are mine and mine own, a bargain was waged for no sermons or lectures were to be made on mine own ships." "Continue and you and yours will be keeled o'er board!"
The storm raged the seas swelled the master of ships ordered the sails reefed. He also ordered to a man that he be chained, o'er the years he lost many a man, a good man, who wasn't chained so be lost at sea, caught in the nets of the Gods to be lost before their time he wished not on anybody. "Steer to the Eye," he ordered to a man. All the oars came out and steer did they to the eye of the storm.
as the ships closed to the Eye a single Ray of sunlight shone down. Look! The abbot shouted, "Lord God, Lamb of God, Son of the Father, his mercy o'er powers your raging Thunderer." The oarsmen stopped to listen to the Abbot.
"Nay, I say thee Nay! Thou has been mislead the Divine One, the storm is what is yet to come for you! The Eye of calm shows you what will be, if you take your leave!" Hlorridi is a just and merciful god, "Let It be and his wrath shall come to naught. This is but a warning."
The oarsmen murmured, looked at each other and nodded, then continued to row. The Master of ships turned on the Abbot, "Continue thy dissention and I'll personally throw you and yours o'er board!" The Abbot wasn't stupid, this master of ships was in his prime and strong of limb, so he complied. He made a note, for future reference on getting a man of the cloth on all merchant vessels, he will have a word with the king!
as they reached the "Eye of Calm" the storm dissipated as if the storm ne'er happened. The Master of ships ordered the "Set Sail" and the oars recoiled. The winds carried a full sail on their continuing journey to Iceland.
The abbot returned to his contemplation, for a time passers by would think the Abbot was sleeping in a kneeling position. In his meditative state he saw a woman on a cliff-top, looking into the wind, her hair was off her shoulders. He thought she was looking straight at him, her brow was furrowed, She was attractive and she had a look that defied her years. He came out of his trance knowing he will meet this woman some time when.
The sun was passed its zenith, when he addressed the Master of ships. "Of all the peoples of Iceland, who are the peoples of import? They would be the Law givers and of the Law givers that would be Thorolf he is held instead with his seeress wife, Roksva."
"Tell Me of this Seeress?" a sneer formed on the Abbots face.
"A Woman of measure that she is. Many a warrior who had there brains addled because of some notion have knelt cringing before her. 'Tis not the wisest notion to cross paths with this woman, 'twas ported that Roksva has the ear of Hlorridi Himsel."
The abbot was surprised and his reaction was of disbelief. "Faugh, this woman is but a charlatan, if all I do is to prove that she is, then my Lot in life is done."
"More fool is you, you Can try, try you might, but fail you will, 'twas done all before and perchance people of a higher might have failed, 'tis your choice."
The Abbot reflected and stored that information for later. The rest of the journey was of no account till the morn of land breach.
Continued in Chapter III
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