Sigrid: Part Eleven of the Late Bronze Age Stories

By Joan H. Parks

Sigrid, a Healer, after enduring rapes and beatings in her captivity cannot bear to be touched, until an Egyptian soldier wins her trust. This volume again meditates on the nature of heroism, how myths are made, and how this small tribe survives and attracts the talented in the midst of the tumult of their time.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: May 17, 2024
• ISBN: 9781663262851

Joan H. Parks

Joan H Parks lives in Chicago, IL, and after a career in clinical research refreshed her life by becoming a ction writer. Her undergraduate degree was from the University of Rochester in Non-Western Civilizations, her MBA from the University of Chicago. She studies poetry, including Yeats and the Canterbury Tales (in Middle English); has an interest in the ancient world which she has grati ed by studying at the Oriental Institute of e University of Chicago; is an a cionado of e Tales of Genji, which she rereads every year or so. Her family regards these activities with amusement, for she also listens to Willie Nelson and Dierks Bentley. She can be contacted at joanhparks.com

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Copyright © 2024 Joan H. Parks.

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 author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

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ISBN: 978-1-6632-6286-8 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-6632-6285-1 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2024909778

iUniverse rev. date:  05/13/2024

CONTENTS

Historical Note

Cast of Characters

Chapter 1     The Beginning

Chapter 2     Memories

Chapter 3     Trygve and Kaliq await news

Chapter 4     The Snow Continued Falling

Chapter 5     Trygve and Kaliq ask the young men

Chapter 6     The Snow is Waist High

Chapter 7     Sigrid Waits

Chapter 8     The Snow is Even Higher

Chapter 9     My Patience is Rewarded

Chapter 10   I leave Stefan’s hut

Chapter 11   Serena the Wise Advises Me

Chapter 12   Dalil and Leila Listen to My Story

Chapter 13   I Tell My Story to Kaliq and Trygve

Chapter 14   We Treat a Trader

Chapter 15   The Bedouin Returns to Us

Chapter 16   Was Stefan a Monster or Demon?

Chapter 17   I Enjoy an Interlude

Chapter 18   I Watch as Soldiers Arrive

Chapter 19   Bakmut Greets his Father

Chapter 20   Kaliq and Trygve Accept Bakmut

Chapter 21   Dalil and Leila Tell my Story Under the Great Cedar Tree

Chapter 22   I Treat a Serious Injury

Chapter 23   Bakmut Changes His Mind

Chapter 24   The Norse Traders Arrive

HISTORICAL NOTE

T he sea peoples menaced the eastern coast of the Mediterranean during the late Bronze Age. The movement of tribes and peoples has left a confusing and scant archeological record. The palace cultures of Minos, and most of the cities along the Mediterranean were destroyed—by whom is still a matter of conjecture. Egypt barely escaped, and the destruction did not extend to Mesopotamia. Whether it was internal corruption, changing climate that provoked tribes to move, or technological advances in weaponry that caused the destruction is still hotly argued in books and arti cles.

The trade routes were disrupted, kingdoms rose and fell, and through it all traders scrambled to make a living, and the innovative and nimble protected their families and tribes, seizing opportunities as they appeared.

And always, always, men and women to whom their own stories are most important, are at the center.

CAST OF CHARACTERS

The Kin

Petros the Wise

Serena the Wise

Kaliq the Strategist

The Healer – son of Serena

Dalil and Leila – storytellers

Bakmut – a leader of his troops

The Norse landers

Sigrid – Norse lander and a healer

Stefan – a source of trouble

Trygve – expert at sea battles

Celeste – mate of Trygve

Sean – expert with a harpoon and a Shepherd’s Sling

CHAPTER 1

THE BEGINNING

T rygve and Kaliq joined the Protectors in looking at the bloody bodies on the ground. Trygve, large and commanding, put his hands on his hips and said, More.

Kaliq, small and commanding said in the same tones of disgust, They never stop coming.

This makes how many since the moon was new? Trygve asked Kaliq.

Kaliq replied, Too many. They are like an avalanche that never stops.

Both of their faces were void of any emotion. Both of them had returned their daggers to their belts, having no need of them.

The Protector said as he scooped up the bloodied knife, He killed the woman and her child before we could stop him. He turned his knife on us, so we killed him. A man without honor.

Tribe? Kaliq asked.

No idea. Can’t tell from their clothes or anything else. None of them said anything. The Protectors, their faces also void of emotion, answered their commanders.

Drag them off the trail. Trygve looked at the sky. It looks like snow, bad snow. We have no time to bury them.

Leaving them here will warn others. Kaliq said.

Maybe.

CHAPTER 2

MEMORIES

S igrid. One Protector gasped as he staggered towards me, It’s time to rope. His were the last words I h eard.

As always, I was in the company of two Protectors, no one being permitted to leave our village alone. I went up the mountain before Petros the Healer could say nay for this would be the last time in weeks to search for the roots that I needed for the healing of a sick child, that child who could only breathe in gasps, and who was turning an alarming blue. The Protectors and I were about to come down from the heights, for the rising wind and the swirling snow made familiar landmarks disappear. A cedar tree changed shape as the wind blew, we could no longer hear a stream we would follow downhill. The wind rose steadily. The snow blurred our eyes, we could not see beyond our hands as the dangerous and unexpected mountain storm descended upon us.

Stefan, or a being whom I took to be Stefan, rose out of the storm. I put out my hand to him, thinking he was here to help.

Stefan had railed against my becoming a Healer. My mother was a Healer, as was her mother, and back into times where myth replaced clear memories. If I breathed and lived, I was a Healer. It was not a choice, but my fate and my joy. Which I embraced. I saw patients, young, old, male, female, really sick, not sick just wanting someone to talk to; I saw them all. For them, I tried new herbs and concoctions to soothe what could be soothed. I eagerly quizzed any other Healers I came upon. Someday I would take a mate, but not yet.

Stefan had changed from when we were young. Changed so gradually that until he talked to me on our journey from the cold waters of the Norse Land, I had not realized how much. Now I barely recognized him. His eyes were still blue, his hair still golden. He was still tall, lithe, and muscular, though now he had grown a beard. His white teeth shone as he smiled at me. But the smile, while familiar, was utterly changed. His blue eyes remained cold, as if I was now an enemy. I became convinced he was dangerous. To me. Maybe to all of us. We, of the Norse Lands, let him come with us when we left. A mistake.

As I stretched out my hand to him, Stefan grabbed me, banged my head on a rock and then I knew nothing.

My head aches. My limbs ache. I remember Stefan bashing me against a rock. Everything spins around me when I turn my aching head. A blurred face is close to me, its mouth opens yet I hear nothing. I drift back down the river of pain and forgetfulness. When again I wake, the darkness has lifted. My head still hurts, but my vision is blurry but at least the spinning has ceased. I move my legs then shudder and close my eyes to escape the pain.

When next I am aware, there he is. Stefan. His blue eyes stare at me. His lips move. He looks angry. I hear him not. Even under the warm furs, I am cold. He must have carried me off to his hidden winter hut among the rocks of the high mountains. I close my eyes again.

A slap across my face makes my eyes open wide. I see his lips moving and hear nothing. I stare at his purple face as his mouth opens wider and the cords of his neck stand out. He must be bellowing. He grasps my arms and shakes me, but I cannot hear him, which seems to make him even more angry. Maybe he thinks I can hear him. He parts my clothing and my legs, digs his fingers into my arms as he harshly takes me, his weight making it hard to breathe. I see his lips moving, smell his breath, but still can hear nothing. He is wet with foul smelling sweat as he spends himself in my unwilling body. I have not the strength to fight him. He slaps my face again. Tears I cannot control leak from my eyes. He licks them, his tongue rough and eager on my face.

Mercifully, my eyes close as the welcome darkness returns to claim me.

CHAPTER 3

TRYGVE AND KALIQ

AWAIT NEWS

B uffeted by the rising wind which tried to sweep them off their feet, Trygve and Kaliq were half blinded by the swirling snow. Trygve was accustomed: Clad in the fine fox furs and embroidered wool of a leader of the Norse, his feet were protected from the slippery frozen path they walked upon by leather boots lined with fur. The snow rose above their ankles. Trygve thought to himself, at least we aren’t upon the sea in a foundering vessel . Kaliq was also dressed in the finest of furs and wools, though in the Egyptian style. Trygve was used to Kaliq being undisturbed by the deteriorating weather, this being their fourth winter season of working together. It showed in their easy companionship and the jokes they sometimes traded. Just now they were not joking, for they had lately come from a bloody scene, and were aware they were in for some very dangerous wea ther.

They were a sight as they