Marah Hein - the Legend of a Viking Woman

By Francine J. Colangelo

Discover the enthralling tale of a woman who finds the
luminous glory of the heart through love, adventure and
exploration on the path of the true Spiritual Warrior.
Francines uncanny and flamboyant style mesmerises to the point of being blissed out.
Winston McQuade,
TV correspondant
Marah lives inside our hearts. We feel and taste both the bitter and
sweet fruit of her trials and triumphs. Th is legends characters are
creative and complex and become part of our psyche. Francines writing is pure genious.
Christine Marie Peters,
Radio host
Francine J. Colangelo worked for 20
years in the communication arena. She devoted
most of her professional life using her talent as a
creative writer to serve other artists and promote
their work. Now shes ready to stand as an artist
herself. As such she loves to explore new avenues
where she invites us to join her. Shes interested
in everything that contributes to the unfolding
of our highest potential. And when she needs a rest, she enjoys an
episode of Northern Exposure on dvd. Her poem Gracious Flow
is semi-finalist in the World Poetry Contest.
To learn more about Francine and what shes up to now visit
www.blueagora.com

• Language: English
• Publisher: Balboa Press
• Release date: Mar 14, 2012
• ISBN: 9781452547206

Francine J. Colangelo

Francine J. Colangelo worked for 20 years in the communication arena. She devoted most of her professional life using her talent as a creative writer to serve other artists and promote their work. Now she’s ready to stand as an artist herself. As such she loves to explore new avenues where she invites us to join her. She’s interested in everything that contributes to the unfolding of our highest potential. And when she needs a rest, she enjoys an episode of ‘Northern Exposure’ on dvd. Her poem ‘Gracious Flow’ is semi-finalist in the World Poetry Contest. To learn more about Francine and what she’s up to now visit www.blueagora.com

Book preview

Marah Hein -

The Legend Of A

Viking Woman

By

Francine J. Colangelo

BalboaLogoBCDARKBW.ai

Copyright © 2012 Francine J. Colangelo

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

ISBN: 978-1-4525-4719-0 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4525-4720-6 (e)

ISBN: 978-1-4525-4721-3 (hc)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2012902632

Balboa Press books may be ordered through booksellers or by contacting:

Balboa Press

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Bloomington, IN 47403

www.balboapress.com

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

The author of this book does not dispense medical advice or prescribe the use of any technique as a form of treatment for physical, emotional, or medical problems without the advice of a physician, either directly or indirectly. The intent of the author is only to offer information of a general nature to help you in your quest for emotional and spiritual well-being. In the event you use any of the information in this book for yourself, which is your constitutional right, the author and the publisher assume no responsibility for your actions.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Balboa Press rev. date:3/8/2012

Contents

Preface

Acknowledgments

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-one

Chapter Twenty-two

Chapter Twenty-three

Epilogue

About the Author

Francine J. Colangelo writes like no other. Her words have layers and dimensions that make me feel transported when I read them. Marah lives right inside our hearts and we feel and taste both the bitter and sweet fruit of her trials and triumphs. The characters are creative and complex and become part of our psyche. The research is flawless. Francine’s writing is pure genious. Can’t wait for the movie… and her next novel!

Christine Marie Peters

Certified Law of Attraction Coach, Radio Host and best selling author of ‘The Gratitude Book Project’ and ‘The Clutterfly Effect’

www.christinemarieandjulie.com

This novel is epic and unique. There is no need to be a passionate historian to be captured by Francine J. Colangelo’s writing talent and storytelling ability. Her uncanny and flamboyant style mesmerises to the point of being blissed out. She has thoroughly researched the backgroud of this saga and brings to the forefront coulorful characters that could very well be living in present times. Francine’s masterful description of life as it was bears richness and a keen sense of family in beauty, grace and given tensions. This is a story about being a total and independant woman in ancient Nordic lands… ‘A right to be… what right ? said I in a burst of independence, an old reflex of the long engrained belief that no one would ever have any rights over me.’

Winston McQuade

TV correspondant and Radio host

To you, dear Reader, enjoy this voyage and all that connects us already.

Preface

I’ve always loved words. I enjoy how they sound, how they taste in my mouth. I appreciate their layers and am in awe of how they convey vibrations. Words connect us as they allow us to share what we feel, what we think, what we believe… what we understand. And their remarkable potential to create images and music with rythm simultaneously fascinates me. Something magical is triggered by that power.

Therefore, I have simply tried my best to infuse words with soul to transport you to a place and time most of us are unfamiliar with in order to infiltrate the Vikings’ world from within. My desire here is to bring to life all that we have in common with Marah and her people so that it may inspire us today.

Acknowledgments

Marah came into my life bearing many gifts at a time when I needed to connect with my real power and find true wisdom. Therefore, I thank her for having so enriched my life from the moment I glimpsed at her til now.

There are many people I am grateful to for this novel to have found its way to you. First, I wish to express my heartfelt gratitude to LaMura Von Boeling. She was a great mentor for me and, as such, guided me towards many exquisite and powerful resources of knowledge as well as the tools to use it. But most importantly, she put me in contact with the Viking mythology and the marvelous Runes which were to be essential to my creative process.

I also want to acknowledge the crucial part my university teacher and praised French-Canadian author Noël Audet played in encouraging me to follow my inspiration and honor my voice as an author.

Here is the perfect time and place to thank the four men who – unknowingly – inspired key characters in Marah’s tale. They may not have played any significant part in my life but they each evoked something unique that was pivotal in Marah’s growth and the unfolding of her destiny.

My thanks also to all those who contributed to this publication either by their comments as readers of the manuscript or by their contribution to the book itself. Among those I wish to shine a grateful light on Eric Goyette for his legal advice and his friendly concern, Christine Marie and Julie Peters as well as Winston McQuade for their back cover notes and kind words, Tiffany Hockensmith for her enthusiastic reaction and all those at Balboa who have put their magic touch on this book.

It is my blessed privilege to highlight here the extraordinary part my beloved Philippe has played in bringing this artistic endeavor to fruition. I honor and cherrish your presence in my life with all that I am and love you here and now eternal.

And finally, thank you, dear reader, for taking the time to read these lines and embark on this literary drakar sailing the lines of our hearts and souls.

Prologue

All over the Nordic lands, they gathered around the fire to hear the captivating tales of their gods. The wonders of Creation, the hardships of battles, the wavering will of some, the steadfastness of others, the choices, the treachery, the tribulations, the passion… the glory of the Ases and the magnificence of Walhalla galvanized the old and the young, the weak and the strong alike.

Respecting Mother Nature under the sacred name of Freya, admiring her wisdom, following her rules, appreciating her bounty and thanking her for it all stood at the core of life itself. Winter reigned for long months on the Norsemen’s lands. It allowed a slower pace, one more attuned to the inner self. Springtime gave out the first signs that the earth was ready to cooperate with their labour. Slowly, it opened itself up and displayed the richness of its possibilities in the song of the birds returning to nest, in the beauty of the reborn vegetation and in a distinct kind of light.

Summertime. Yes, surely, summertime came all of a sudden. One day, spring simply was over and summer had settled in. One then took care of the Earth and its children, making sure that fruits, vegetables, and animals prospered. Autumn undoubtedly brought along a time of festivities, those of harvesting. Everyone would thank Life for having been so generous and for that generosity to have taken multiple forms.

To each day its duties and its blessings.

To each season its reasons for being.

But always, this people blessed by the gods remained fervently devoted to Freya.

Chapter One

circa 810 a.d.

In the middle of one such tiny Nordic village, I, Marah, was born. A long baby, gifted with ample blond hair. A soft baby, a happy baby… a slightly whimsical baby too. Mine was a large family of solid children with brave hearts and sparkling eyes. Still, the augurs had spoken of my birth in such terms that my arrival could not go unnoticed.

My mother was chief of the village of Geörk. Tagik came from a long lineage of powerful women, most respected, honouring the noblest customs and the will of the Ases. As in many places in the Norse people’s lands, from mother to daughter, for generations, Tagik’s family had inspired Geörk by its intrepidity and its wisdom.

By the grace of the Ases, I was born a Viking. My young life followed the rhythm of the seasons, was imbued with love and, in many ways, was also privileged. However, privileges entailed responsibilities. Thus, my upbringing was devoted to equip me to face them by properly developing my physical, mental and spiritual abilities.

Much was done to nurture my sense of duty and I was tought very early in life that, in the plans of the gods, everybody had a part to play. Therefore, everybody was important. Indeed, what good could a leader do if they had no one to govern, to defend and to serve?

The stories of the gods of Ases punctuated my life. Odin and Freya tucked me in at night, after having shared with me their numerous adventures and given me their acts of wisdom in example. They fascinated me. But mostly, they inspired my respect. Yet that sentiment did not come from any obligation due to our gods. Not at all. I sincerely honoured their judgment, their intelligence, their grace, their courage and their creativity. They were my mentors. I was eager to learn everything one could know about gods and to emulate them to the best of my limited human capabilities.

Still, it was Freya whom I truly idolized. She was, and would remain until my last breath, the one I was most loyal to. She was a mother to us all, Mother-Earth, Mother-Nature. Deep inside my soul, I recognized that she was the creative energy behind all life forms on Earth. And that kind of loving creativity touched me immensely. Everywhere, it was she whom I saw giving life. This, I understood very early. It was for her and through her that our lives became significant. That, I understood only later.

My village was beautiful and old. Geörk was nested along an agile river. Our small but nonetheless comfortable houses were set in a series of circles. From afar, one could see the snowy crown of the hills nearby. And right next to Geörk, was a forest fecund in living, crawling, jumping, flying creatures. Those, sometimes noisy, sometimes mute, beings were not only our neighbours but also our companions and teachers.

Horses were particularly dear to my heart. Their proud bearing met something in me. Their gentleness, which could turn into rebellion impetuously, charmed me. And their strength called my consideration. On my tenth birthday, my mother gave me what was to remain one of the nicest presents I ever received: Tania, a young mare with a naughty character. No one had ever climbed on her back. Hence, my gift, like most of those I received in my youth, was also meant to be an important lesson: that of breaking her in. Curbing her was not an easy task. However, it corresponded to my own taming. For her as much as for myself, domestication was not to become a renunciation of one’s true personality nor a re-modeling. Rather, it was an opportunity to appraise the value of cooperation and regard. As time went by, Tania became my true companion.

Under the rigorous climate as well as the unbending social conditions of Geörk, physical fitness and the development of abilities were instrumental to survival. Thus, we formed a community of noble and skillful warriors. However, the warrior’s fate assigned to me by the soothsayers only increased these requirements in my case. Like all the youths ever to have lived in Geörk, I was tought how to use sword, battle-ax, hammer and shield.

Eventually, there came a time in my studies where I could manipulate them with a relative ease. It all came together from the moment when our teacher encouraged us to perceive our weapons as an extension of ourselves. When, years later, I would earn a living as a warrior, it was this notion that contributed to my success. I certainly found no gratification in bloodshed. For me, the choice of arms fit to measure was simply like that of good tools for any craftsman. Victory came from the concern for a job well done. It was a necessity, that of fulfilling one’s duties.

To encourage us and kindle our desire to learn, our master of arms organized championships at the end of each summer. The autumn moon of my fourteenth year marked the time of my first noticeable achievement in those community games. On that occasion, Bulga had prepared three competitions: a horse race, duels and a fight on horseback.

It was a magnificent day… a most memorable day! Oh! how absolutely memorable that day was, for it was when I met Gürich. A superb blond with eyes shining like the river under the full summer moon. Gürich with his broad shoulders, his long sturdy legs. Gürich with his divine smile… Gürich, who exuded dignity and strength.

As soon as I laid eyes on him, something in me quivered. It was a galvanizing agitation, yet unknown, and perfectly out of my control.

I had never seen him before.

He had returned that very morning, had simply climbed off his horse, walked into the village in the midst of exclamations of surprise, and gone straight to see his mother, Bulga.

Gürich had left home some ten years ago. Now, he was back, just like that, in time for the harvest festivities. Bulga was so full of pride and happiness at seeing him again, it is difficult to describe with words. Her eldest son had always been considered her best student. He had gone at the dawn of manhood to serve as a warrior where the rights of king and Ases needed defending.

Once salutations and homage were paid, our games finally started. Gürich’s homecoming would only enhance our ritual celebrations and thanksgivings. Still that would come only after the games.

For me, however, this day took on a new meaning. I did not know how or why, but the emotion that stirred my soul was now being channeled into a rush of pride - and I admit, my pride had always been quite healthy enough. I wanted him to notice me. No, it was more than that… I craved for him never to be able to forget me… as was inescapably my case with him.

With Tania, and perhaps because of our peerless connection, I won the race and the battle on horseback. In the duels, Galek, a boy of about 15, defeated me… as usual. For many years now, we had trained together, and I was still looking for a way to beat Galek in duel!

After the games, Bulga, Tagik and all the villagers started to appeal for a race between Gürich and me. It seemed only natural to them: Bulga’s best student ever against the one with a formidable future and winner of that day’s race. They were so caught up in their own exhiliration and thrill that they did not even consider for a moment the enormous gap in experience between us. As odd as it was, we both ended up on our horses’ backs. How did we reach the finish line at the same time? The gods only know! Did Gürich hold back his horse? Hard to tell. Did I lack concentration? Hard to admit. All I know is that this outcome apparently satisfied everyone.

Thanksgiving rites took place and then the festivities gave way to a merry and plentiful banquet. That was tradition for us as well as for the people all over our lands. The harvest was abundant. Thanks Freya. The game was hearty. Thanks Freya. We all lived in peace and in health. Thanks Freya. And that special mead we brewed flowed smoothly. Thanks a million, Freya!

That evening, the air was cool and voluptuous. It was a wonderful night for storytelling indeed. The villagers turned to Gürich to hear the tales of his travels and battles. He declared himself more gifted with a sword than with words and that tonight was time for him to bask in the pleasure of re-uniting with them all by listening to their storytelling. So he turned inquiringly to our bard who was only too happy to comply!

Under the stars and a moon as plump as can be, our sage felt particularly inspired. Halovik related how Odin had earned the favours of Freya. It was a fantastic tale of love and glory. It illustrated grandiloquently the qualities of that ultimate sentiment which, one day, reaches all hearts.

I closed my eyes and let Halovik’s voice and his words transport me to Freya and Odin. The feeling provoked by Gürich’s arrival gave new colours to their story. When I opened my eyes, he was looking at me. That only increased my trouble. He was sitting at a respectable distance, across the circle we had all formed. Until the bard had completed his narration, Gürich’s intense gaze unceasingly traveled from me to the storyteller and back to me. Once Halovik was done, Gürich got up and came straight to me.

I was under his spell, that was the only explanation possible, for I saw him getting closer and yet could not move. I could not close my eyes, look away or even smile. I remained there. Motionless. Once he reached me, he bended over and said: ‘Marah, please introduce me to your mare.’ ‘Tagik! Tagik! Where are you?’ thought I to myself. But my mother did not come to my rescue. She was nowhere in sight. She had vanished into thin air. Taken by surprise, I could not help but rise, and follow him. ‘This is Tania’, said I once we were in the stable.

I caressed her, taking comfort in her warmth, keeping countenance and also reassuring her for she had never been too keen on strangers. ‘This is Gürich… a great warrior… He’s Bulga’s son and has just returned home after acquiring fame and glory at the service of our king.’

‘Hello there Tania’, he said with his round and husky barytone voice. ‘You are really superb.’ His words were for her, but his eyes were on me. He came closer to me… put his hand on my shoulder. My eyes were asking him all the questions that rushed to my mind. What does he want from me all of a sudden? was undoubtedly the most prominent one. Yet, I could not articulate the words. His hand touched my neck. I felt my face becoming tenser but still my body did not move in the slightest. I knew about what generally happened between men and women. I knew the love stories of our gods, of the villagers… even those of my mother! Yet it seemed impossible that any such thing could happen to me! How could a man be interested in me? More accurately, how could a hero like Gürich be interested in me? Unbelievable or not, gazing deeply into his eyes, analyzing his demeanour, it nonetheless became quite clear…

‘Come and meet me here tomorrow morning. We will go riding. Maybe then we can have a real race!’ he unceremoniously proposed.

I smiled at him in silent agreement and we returned to the celebrations. The banquet was coming to an end. Many villagers had already retired. Completely absorbed by my emotional frenzy and my frantic brainwork, I went straight to my mother’s cabin.

The noise of the last merrymakers was shrouded by my own inner hubbub. The only way I could get to sleep that night was by imploring Freya to guide me to rest.

I woke up at dawn still febrile. I needed to move. The impressions of the night before had not faded away. On the contrary. Something down my spine told me a turning point was on the horizon. I had to be as fresh as the morning’s dew, as new, to go through this upcoming encounter graciously. I just had to. I needed the cleansing, the revitalizing for my soul’s well being. The best way to get it was to go for a swim in our river. I left my bed, took the first piece of clothing at hand and walked vigorously to my running bath. The water was cold. The current, purifying. I stayed in there for a long while, taking full advantage of its invigorating forces. Ultimately, when I stepped out of the water, I was ready.

Back at home, I grabbed a bite and put on the tunic which felt most becoming, one of supple leather that let my legs show. Gürich was already in the stables, waiting for me. He greeted me with an unambiguous appraising look. ‘And good morning to you too Gürich,’ I declared. ‘The horses are ready… and so, it appears, are we. Let’s ride!’ was his uncomplicated reply.

We headed for the fields. Soon, we came to the wood and there, engaged the most inviting paths. Our ride was long. And I savoured every second of it! I was happy to be on Tania’s back, in that forest that was so familiar. Their presence reassured me and helped me to bear with my inner tumult. It was a glorious day. One of those days I am so fond of: cool and sunny. The kind of day where the light crisply defines the contours of everything it touches.

We finally halted in a pleasant little clearing where a brook ran. We sat on its shore. ‘I saw you this morning… in the river,’ he announced. ‘How did that happen?’ I inquired. The idea of being followed, spied on, displeased me much more than my public nudity. ‘Well Marah, I was out walking along the riverbank and then, there you were… in all your splendour. How could I resist admiring such a sight?’

‘Do not jeer at me Gürich. I will not be ridiculed by anyone… much less by you… a stranger, no matter how famous you might be.’

‘Come on Marah’. He laughed. ‘I am not mocking you. Can I not speak my mind without being accused so harshly?’ he pleaded. I looked at him and remained suspicious. Though, I must admit, he did sound sincere. What happened next however melted my distrust away.

‘Has no one ever told you you are beautiful’ he inquired. ‘No’, I answered artlessly. ‘I don’t understand this. I cannot believe no one noticed…’ He paused. ‘Yes, you are striking in beauty. And in other ways also, I am sure. You certainly are a special soul.’

I was dumbfounded. Literally! I did not know what to say or how to react. My mind simply could not believe it. Yet my heart was telling me he really meant every word he uttered. Slowly, I glimpsed at another vision of myself, an unknown version of Marah through the eyes of a mature man. Gürich put his stinewy arm around me and lifted up my face with his left hand, forcing me to look into his eyes.

‘Listen carefully Marah. I want you. I want you more than you can imagine. I have traveled many countries, met my fair share of women and no one has ever made me feel the way you do. Never. This may seem sudden to you, but it is true nonetheless, and my feelings are sincere. You call me a stranger, but you are not one to me. I know you well Marah Hein, you are the one I looked for throughout my journey. I know your heart, your way of thinking, even that capricious streak of yours you cannot hide from me. I see them in your eyes, your smile, your bearing, the way you push your hair away from your face. You are the answer to my heart’s desires. And I believe, somewhere inside you, the voice of your own yearnings tells you I am your answer. Listen to it if not to me. Fate is at play here. I knew it at first glance. You hold my heart now, Marah. No matter the outcome. I cannot change that anymore. Neither can you. Please be my partner and seal it with a kiss.’

To this day, I am not sure I can explain how it happened. All I know is that his words, his demeanour, his appearance, his entire energies told me it was right. And then my own emotions overcame whatever bit of resistance could be left in me. I kissed him softly, the way one does when one tastes a certain fruit for the first time.

Then, I wrapped my arms around him and kissed him more intensely letting my feelings take charge of what was happening. Before we reached the ground, I whispered: ‘Yes Gürich, I will be your partner.’

He acknowledged my decree by squeezing me tighter and then laid me gently down on the supple grass. The next thing I knew, our clothes were scattered around us and we were both only covered by the other one’s caresses.

Chapter Two

circa 824 a.d.

How sensually delightful this very moment was! How perfect the balance. How flawless the mixture of emotion and desire. More. More. I wanted more of this ecstasy, more of this happiness, more of this bliss, more of this total freedom… more of what was only being revealed to me. We returned to the village after sundown, and had it not been for the bity chill in the weather, we probably would not have retraced our steps at all.

When we entered my cabin, Tagik awaited us. She took only one look at us and knew. However, I suspect she had known all along. ‘I see you have found your match Marah. I am pleased. Gürich can stay here with you tonight. We shall discuss the future tomorrow morning. Goodnight.’

That was it! We went straight to bed, and for the first time, I fell asleep resting my head on his shoulder. It felt rather strange to lay beside him and yet it felt natural.

The next morning, the first thing I heard after the song of the birds was Gürich’s sonorous laughter. ‘And why is that?’ ‘Well, yesterday morning, you were displeased that I had watched you in the river. And now, you’re simply walking around in the nude. How quickly you adapt! That’s a nice quality for a warrior meant to travel around a good deal.’

I threw the boot I had been looking for right at him, laughed, then went to kiss him good morning. Tagik returned just as we had become presentable again, as if she suddenly possessed a device telling her exactly the appropriate time to enter or exit the room we were in. I might simply have underestimated the knowledge my mother drew from a respectable amount of life experience. I suppose most children do.

My fate had already been sealed on the previous day once I had whispered my answer to Gürich. Yet, our tradition required the mother’s consent before a match be set. Evidently, that had been given the night before. In fact, Tagik’s agreement to our being together had implicitely come before that, otherwise she would have found a way to prevent our little escapade in the forest. I now realized that Gürich’s behaviour on the night of the festival could have fooled no one but me! It certainly would not dupe a clever and experienced woman like my dear mother.

At present, it was merely a matter of details. First, Gürich and I would start building our own cabin. Until it was ready, we would maintain the same living arrangements as the night before. Hence, together we went to tell Bulga who already knew about our partnership thereby demonstrating the impressive efficiency of the women’s network!

Although in the meantime we were recognized as a couple, it would all be validated in the rites and celebrated with a feast when our lodging was completed. And that would have to be soon for not only were we eager to be on our own, but within roughly two moon cycles, winter would spread its white cloak all over our country.

So, that very morning, Gürich and I went into the woods equipped with our best axes to bring down the huge trees that would, once assembled in Nordic fashion, become our house. We had not been toiling for long when a group of villagers showed up. Men and women alike, all came to give us a hand at cutting down those trees. With their help, enough trees for our construction project were brought down within the next two days. On the third one, we stripped away the branches to get the trunks ready for their new fate. On the fourth, the villagers returned to their respective labour with our profound gratitude.

My brothers and sisters as well as their mates and Gürich’s family helped us bring all that wood to the site in our village where our home was to arise. With the approval of the community’s council, we had chosen a spot at the village’s rim, a place from which the river could be seen.

A week later, Gürich and I were on our own, raising the beams. We worked hard, very hard, from sunrise to sundown, and sometimes even a bit passed that, with little rest for quick but sustaining meals that members of either one of our families would bring us. We slaved and went as fast as we could for we were most anxious to really initiate our life together. With that uplifting goal in our hearts, the labour was accomplished with tremendous joy and complicity.

We would often look at each other and smile, knowing that the other thought and felt exactly as the first one. We were happy. Building this house was part of laying the foundations of our partnership, and we both sensed that this relationship was meant to be both solid and fruitful.

Within two more weeks, the roof was up. That sufficed for us to inform Tagik we were moving out of her home, and into ours - unfinished as it stood. Even though the nights were unreservedly raw at that time of the year, and she knew we would have been much more snug in her residence, Tagik did not attempt to convince us to do otherwise, for she understood perfectly well our eagerness and considered it not only natural but well in order.

I still recall that first night in our sketchy cabin, with the velvety darkness enveloping us and bright stars speckling in the sky. In our Nordic country, the autumn nights are more than brisk. And so it was on that evening as soon as the sun came down.

Gürich and I wrapped ourselves cozily in furs… but no fur came between us, no animal skin came between us… nothing ever came between us. We held each other so tightly, so strongly that we could hardly breathe. Then we started kissing and kissing more and more as if we had starved for it. Our bodies grew warmer with each degree of ardour rising. Soon a fire lit between our caresses. The incomparable flames of passion burned intensely until our hunger was satisfied.

The more we knew each other, the closer we drew. More than partners, we were accomplices. This complicity settled between us rapidly and artlessly. All this was part of the feeling that we were so rightly and thoroughly meant for each other. As our work on the house progressed, our conversations ascended to another level. I discovered that Gürich had inquired about me during the games on Festival Day. Therefore, he was well aware of the augurs’ predictions regarding my future and, like any decent Viking, never doubted their truthfulness for a moment. Thus, he understood the kind of upbringing I had received in order to be worthy of my warrior and conqueror’s destiny. As all the members of our community, he was acquainted with my family. Generations of village chiefs hardly go unnoticed! He also saw that in my blood. The rest, he discovered in my eyes, my laughter, my whims and through my capacity for hard work.

On the other hand, I knew little about him. Being Bulga’s first son and most successful student told me something about his gifts. Nonetheless, I had to question him on his time away from Geörk to learn more. Travel and war had to change a person. Through his telling, I viewed new countries, met new peoples, learned about kingly courts. The way he talked, his choice of words as well as the tone of his voice, told me much about his character. The rest, I discovered in his eyes, his laughter, his sense of duty and his considerate regard for all living things.

Soon it was as if I could read Gürich’s heart and mind. And he could decode mine. We were as one. I had never thought or even imagined in my wildest dreams such a thing to be possible between to human beings. Why, even the gods themselves hardly appeared so close when experiencing this sentiment!

One night, Freya visited me in my sleep. She appeared dressed in a blue garment that was bright and soft. She stretched out her hand and invited me to come to her. She stood there smiling with such a warmth about her… she glowed with munificence and wisdom.

Marah, she said. ‘This man of yours, you have to care for him. He is a gift you will only receive once. Do not worry about the future. Take every day as it comes.’ She paused, and then went on. ‘And, most of all, always remember to be totally devoted to the present. The present is all that counts, and it is only there once. The morrow is never the same. Remember me Marah. I am always there for you… where ever your eyes lay. " She held my hand in both hers, looked deep into my eyes, and disappeared.

I woke up shaken. Dawn was on the horizon. Had it not been so early, I would have rushed to the Rune interpreter, but it would have been considered disrespectful to call on him at such an hour. In the meantime, I dressed, went to the river and sat on the bank, remembering every detail of my dream, engraving every word Freya had pronounced, knowing they would be crucial to their interpretation. I was still sitting there, captivated by my thoughts and the river flows, when Gürich’s voice resounded: ‘And what is my brightest star doing so pensive by her river?’ He always called the river my river for he believed there was a singular affiliation between she and me. He also claimed that she reminded him of me. I did not fully grasp his meaning at the time.

‘I’m waiting to go visit Halovik.’ ‘Why?’ he questioned. ‘I had a dream I wish to tell him and ask about its significance.’ ‘Will you not share it with me?’ ‘Are you a dream interpreter?’ I replied trying to make light of it.’ He leaned forward and kissed me on the cheek. ‘I shall not tell you just yet. I want to see Halovik first’, I asserted before he put me off track with his cajoling.

‘Ha-ha! I see. Secrets already. Well, I suppose it’s a woman’s prerogative.’ ‘You know it has nothing to do with privileges. It only has to do with sacredness’, I added on a more serious tone. ‘And sacredness is truly holy for a chosen one like you, I know… Unless it has something to do with me?’ I was shaken by his intuitive remark.

He was sitting beside me now, passing his rough fingers through my hair. Despite his flippant comment, I knew he understood and respected what I was doing. ‘Want to come for a swim?’ he asked trying to change the subject… and the mood. ‘No. Thank you. I think I’ll slowly make my way to Halovik now.’

‘As you wish my queen!’ And in a single jump, he dove into the water. I watched him for a while. He was radiant. My heart went to him, but my mind guided my steps towards the village and the soothsayer’s house.

Halovik was already up and busy. It never ceased to amaze me all the things this respectable old man could achieve in one day. And when I say old, I mean o-l-d. No one could say exactly how old he was, but we knew he had been a young man at the time of my grandmother’s childhood. Of course, he knew precisely how many spring equinoxes he had witnessed, but would not tell a soul, for he considered it of no consequence. All that mattered to him, and according to his sayings to the gods, was the wisdom one acquired through experience.

‘Good morning, Halovik. May I call upon the wise one on this young day? ‘ I respectfully inquired. ‘Ah Marah, come in. You have something to ask of your old teacher?’

‘Yes indeed. I have had a vision in my dream and yearn to understand its meaning.’

‘Well, be seated and tell me about it.’

He listened attentively whilst I told him about my encounter with godly Freya herself. ‘Well?’ I said at the end of my recount. ‘What does it mean?’ ‘Is it all? You have not left any detail out?’ I shook my head. ‘I’ll get the Sacred Runes’ and off he went. He turned to a sort of shelf by the fireplace and took his graven pieces of wood. He came back to his stool, sat down, closed his eyes and threw them. ‘Ahhh. Mannaz.’

I knew enough about Runes to remember this was the very first Rune Odin had spied upon: Mannaz, human nature. And Halovik started talking unremittingly. I listened carefully trying to register not only the words themselves but also their energy, the impression they left on me.

‘Everyone has to begin by knowing themselves. Know in every fiber of your being your innate bond to others and to the Divine. You are a chosen one, Marah, you know that, and I have told you often about the burden of responsibilities that comes with such a position. Remember the teachings. Remain modest at all times. Recognize the interdependency ingrained between all living things. Be devoted. Strive to live the ordinary life in an unconventional way. This rune speaks about how you will fulfill your fate, the attitude behind it. Know thyself well’ he concluded.

‘Know thyself?’ I appealed. ‘Yes. Marah. Know thyself in all your many facets.’

‘Just at the time when I am entering a life where I am not myself anymore or by myself either!’ I went on thinking out loud. ‘That is exactly why this oracle is so momentous. It is not to be discussed any further. Let it sink in. ‘Remember thy task and thyself. Keywords truly.’ And with this, I was dismissed.

I left him with my thanks and appreciation for his service but little more understanding than when I arrived. Halovik’s words as well as Freya’s stayed with me all my life and proved, as always do the words from the wise, not only to be true but also very valuable advice throughout the numerous adventures that awaited me. Yet, on that day, they kept swirling round and round, they roamed in some sort of spiral in my head and my heart.

I walked back to the skeleton of our cabin the way an automat would have, totally obsessed with my dream, the oracle and Halovik’s interpretation of both. I discerned nothing on my way, took no notice of the weather nor of the villagers. I did not even remember walking at all… even less in what direction! I had simply gone to my nest, the way any animal in need of comfort and security would have.

Gürich welcomed me with his warmest smile. He was doing what he considered would encourage me to share my thoughts with him and tell him what had happened. However, soon his smile faded away as he understood that I was not ready to open up to him yet. I took for granted that he respected this fact. Nonetheless, he was obviously shocked at this first occurrence of disatunement between us. Incapable of doing otherwise, I put myself to work, concentrating on the task before me with intense application. It helped… but only a little.

When the sun reached its zenith and it was time to pause for our meal, Gürich came to me and said: ‘Please Marah, do not shut me off this way. I cannot bear it any longer. Tell me what is going on.’

‘I have to think, Gürich. I have some serious thinking to do to fully grasp the meaning of my dream and Halovik’s interpretation.’

‘But, can you not tell me anything… anything at all? Is it good or bad? Must I prepare myself for some catastrophe or some great joy? Something important is going on, I can feel it. If it concerns you, it concerns me. I have a right to be told,’ he beseeched me.

‘A right to be… what right?’ said I in a burst of independence, an old reflex of the long engrained belief that no one would ever have any right over me.’

He looked at me in dismay mixed with pain. Then it dawned on me like a blow. How stupid can you be Marah? thought I to myself. Freya’s own words were haunting you: Take care of him. He is a gift. And this is how you follow her advice! Well done!

‘Yes, I know. You have that right which comes with our mutually consented partnership,’ I said more gently. ‘I apologize. I am not accustomed to anyone peeking into my inner life.’ I paused for a second, and then carried on. ‘I must see things clearly to be able to tell them to you. Halovik’s advice is to let it all sink in. It is good. I think it is all very good. Trust me.’

I smiled at him