Úlvhild glimpsed a dense forest surrounding a distant castle—laMontagne Couronée,royal fortress of the Frankish King Lothaire—perched atop a mountain like a menacing crown. In a grassy clearing strewn with spring blossoms of primrose and sweet violet, the chaos and carnage of a bloody battle unfolded.
Frankish soldiers on horseback battled Norman knights whose surcoats bore Jarl Rikard’s heraldry of two golden lions rampant on a background of solid red. Danish warriors with gleamingbrynjaand leather armor brandished swords, spears, and bearded axes. A berserker in a brown bearskin cloak tore through a throng of Frankish knights, impervious to the relentless strikes of enemy blades.Úlfhéðnarin wolfskin cloaks battledDökkálfarDark Elves, and amidst a band ofLjósálfarclad in shimmeringdragonscalearmor, Úlvhild spotted Haldor, his fierce falcon face painted with bright feathers and glowing runes, summoning birds to attack from the skies. Amidst shrieks of horror and the clashing of steel, a massive dragon with enormous silver wings swooped down and unleashed a deluge offrostfireflame.
White bearskin cloak draped over his chain mail armor, Skjöld sheltered Christian clergy andLjósálfarLight Elves with hisÍsfirshield. And there—in the center of the protective circle of ice blue fire, Úlvhild recognized the man in the distinctive dark green cape as Jarl Rikard’s loyal ally, Hugh Capet, The Count of Paris who had once aided Haldor and Skårde in freeing young Sweyn, imprisoned in the royal Frankish prison ofle Palais Royalon the Island of Paris,l’Ile de la Cite.
As the vision receded, Úlvhild slowly returned to the human realm.
The crackle of the fire snapped her awake. The cleansing scent of pine restored her sense of smell. The welcoming heat from the hearth warmed her frozen veins. While she waited a few moments before attempting to stand, Úlvhild analyzed the startling vision which the Norns had revealed.
Hugh Capet—the man she had seen inside Skjöld’s shield of fire—was named for the green cape he always wore. Theesteemed Count of Paris, favored by Frankish and Norman nobles alike, was the greatest rival to the coveted crown of King Lothaire of West Francia.
Another foreseen prophecy floated to her from the past.
The Son of the Dragon will shield the cape and defend the future crown.
Hugh Capet is “the cape” Skjold must shield. He is also the future king whose crown will forge a dynasty to rule for a thousand years. I must inform Haldor and Skjold in the morning at dagmál. Before Skugga and the Dökkalfar attack.
And I fall to the crimson-eyed witch.
Úlvhild rinsed out the silver pot and prepared a cleansing draught of chamomile, yarrow, and valerian root, which would help her sleep. She drank the restorative elixir, returned the pouches of herbs to her leather satchel, and crawled into bed with Haldor.
Chapter 21
Prophecy Fulfilled
Úlvhild awoke to the squawking of sea gulls, the streaming of sunlight, and an insistent hardness poking the back of her bare bottom.
Haldor kissed her neck and moaned into her ear. “Let me in.”
She parted her legs and gladly complied.
He slipped a hand between her thighs and rubbed her sensitive bud in rhythm with his relentless thrusts until she convulsed and quivered, clamping onto him as they both shuddered in a shared, blissful release. “Mmm,” he nuzzled her cheek and hummed. “My favorite way to start the morning.”
She rolled back to face him and smiled. “Mine, too.”
As he got up and washed in the basin on the table, she told him about her vision. “Lothaire will attack in the spring. When you and Skjöld return to thePays de Caux, you must alert Skårde and Jarl Rikard, so they can warn Hugh Capet.”
“You speak as if you do not plan to sail with us.” The morning sun glistened on his gloriously naked body as he shot her a fierce gaze, his dark brows furrowed in concern. “What are you not telling me, Úlvhild?” Long, muscular legs strode briskly across the stone floor as he plopped onto the bed and grasped her hand. “What else did your vision reveal?”
She quickly recovered, forcing reassurance into her voice to dissuade his intuitive doubts. “That Skjöld willshield the cape and defend the future crown.” She brushed a lock of dark hair from his tender but dubious face. “Capet will become the first of a new dynasty of kings that will reign for a thousand years.” Úlvhild leaned forward and kissed him, grateful that the love they shared last night and this morning had strengthened hismagic through the seiðrfjáðrwhich bound them.
And when I succumb to the crimson-eyed witch, I will give him every last drop I have left.
Rising from the bed, she quickly washed and donned her golden gown.I shall wear this color to wield the magic of sólrún, gift of the Goddess Sól. When she swept her long black hair aside and fastened the amber necklace of Freyja, a comforting thought crossed her mind.Perhaps the goddess will help me save Haldor, as she did once before. When he was critically wounded as a falcon in the bloody battle to reclaim Jarl Rikard’s fortress of Fécamp.She strapped on her belt, with its pouches of herbs, berries, and bones. And sheathed her garnet embellished, rune inscribed dagger,Freyja’s Whisper, into the leather scabbard at her waist.
As Úlvhild finished securing the leather straps on Haldor’s striking falcon armor, a knock at the door announced the royal sentinels who had come to retrieve their trunks and transport them down to the ships being loaded at the dock. Haldor strapped on his swordSeiðrvindr,and secured hisÍsfalkrspear in the Dwarven harness across his back. Tucking his plumed helmet under the falcon feather vambrace of his forearm, he took hold of Úlvhild’s hand and led her to the Moonstone Hall where sunlight streaming through the narrow windows made the walls glisten like glittering gems.
They joined Elfi and Njörd, Luna and Njáll, Bodo and Sif, and Queen Íssla at the table for a quick meal. Úlvhild leaned her moonstone staff against the wall behind her chair and shared her vision about the springtime battle near the mountaintop castle of King Lothaire.
“’The Son of the Dragon will shield the cape and defend the future crown.’ Hugh Capet is the cape,” she explained to Skjöld, “and the future king you must protect and see crowned. For Hugh Capet will found a new dynasty that will unite the kingdom of Francia and endure for a thousand years.”
While everyone digested the enormity of Úlvhild’s vision amidst the heightened tension of the impending battle, Njörd arose from the table. “Let’s go down to the docks and speak withthe ship captains. See how soon we set sail.” He kissed Elf on the lips and his mother on the cheek. “I’ll come back when I have more information.. Enjoy the rest of your meal.” With a nod, he led Njáll and Bodo out of the castle and down the stone stairs.
As Elfi, Luna, Sif, and Úlvhild lingered over the fresh fruit and grilled fish, Queen Íssla was called away to meet with a messenger from Ólaf One Eye.
A few moments later, Bodo appeared in the doorway, his eyes wide with panic. “Elfi,” he gasped, struggling to catch his breath. “Njord’s hurt—in wolf form. He shifted, then fell.” A shadow of foreboding slithered up Úlvhild’s spine. “Come quickly, I’ll take you to him. He’s by the hot springs under the black cliff.”
She grasped her moonstone staff, and they scrambled down the steps behind Bodo.
