Viking Ecstasy (35 page)

❧

It felt good to be on land. It felt even better to feel secure. Tabor had promised Tanaka that she would be safe in the cove and that, for at least two days, she could relax with nothing to make her anxious.

Overhead, the skies were bright with stars; and the smell of beef roasting over an open fire wafted on the light breeze. The boats were not far from shore, and the small village they had discovered was only too happy to receive a returning hero, slaughtering two cows for the evening feast.

Tabor had built a small campfire just for Tanaka so that she could have privacy. That, anyway, was what he had said. She knew, though, that he had done it because he wanted her separated from the men and the villagers. Tabor did not want Tanaka to hear of the atrocities that Ingmar the Savage had committed in their absence. She smiled, pleased that her husband wanted to protect her whenever he could, even though she herself did not feel she had to be coddled like a child.

The blanket on which she sat was thick and supple to the touch. Tanaka removed the Scandinavian-style shoes that she usually wore. She did not like wearing the shoes. They pinched her toes. In her homeland, she only wore sandals, which were always loose and unconstricting. It was at times like these, even though she had not been gone long, that she missed Opar and her beloved Egypt.

The fighting had gone well. On three occasions Tabor's Vikings had engaged Ingmar's men and had emerged victorious. Though she found all warfare repugnant, Tanaka was pleased that the Egyptians who sailed and fought with Tabor had proven themselves courageous to a man. Even Tabor, who had often teased Tanaka about the Egyptian men's diminutive stature, had ceased his teasing, voicing nothing but praise for the swarthy warriors.

As she waited for the beef to finish cooking over the two large fires, Tanaka picked up her tarot cards. Perhaps they would tell her something about the future, she mused.

Holding the cards loosely in her open hand, Tanaka closed her eyes and thought about her husband and his complaints since their return to Scandinavian waters. Fragments of conversations filtered through Tanaka's consciousness. Most of the talk concerned Ingmar and how he had kept his ships and his men around him, denying Tabor a numerically-even war.

A smile creased her lips; she had her question:
How can Tabor defeat Ingmar if he remains surrounded by his men and ships?

Tanaka moved the cards at random, concentrating on the question before laying several cards out on the blanket. The cards were the High Priestess, the Princess of Swords, Strength, the Lovers, Judgment, and Justice.

She studied the tarot intently, divining its meaning. And as she studied the cards, she felt the quickening of her heart and the slowly but steadily building conviction that if she followed her intuition, Tabor would soon defeat Ingmar the Savage.

Tanaka closed her eyes for a moment, afraid that her desire for a quick end. to the fighting and bloodshed had somehow tainted her vision so that she saw only what she wanted to see. When she opened her eyes again, the cards had not changed.

The High Priestess. That represented her, Tanaka, and she believed this meant she should listen to the words that whispered in her heart. Tanaka knew she must look inside herself for the answers to her troubles.

The Princess of Swords. This meant that she must be a warrior, like Tabor, if the fighting were to end. She could no longer simply be a passenger aboard the ship with Tabor, an appendage to him. She must, as his wife and his partner in life, be at his side, equal in every way, yet complementing and balancing him, completing him as night completes the day.

Strength. Even though she was appalled at the violence that she had witnessed, she must have the strength to transcend her own convictions to see a greater good —the end of Ingmar the Savage. To that end, even she would have the strength to be a warrior and take up arms against her enemy.

The Lovers. She must aid Tabor in his quest, just as he must help her. Together, as lovers, they were undefeatable, an unconquerable force that even the heavens would not challenge.

Judgment. For Ingmar the Savage, judgment would soon be delivered. He had violated the laws of humanity, wantonly stealing, killing, and torturing to satisfy his lust for power and wealth. But soon, judgment would be at hand and Ingmar the Savage, along with his murderous younger brother

Hugh, would pay the price for the great and lasting hardships they had caused so many.

And lastly, Justice. When the fighting ended, justice would be served, and the good men —like Tabor and Sven —and women like Tanaka would be the ones to mete out that Justice.

Tanaka read the cards once more; she knew that something was missing. Something, but what? She had spread the cards out before her for the reading exactly as she had been taught long ago.

But her intuition told her that the picture was incomplete.

She watched her hand, as though directed by a power other than herself, go to the stack of remaining cards, cut the cards in half, and turn over the top card of the nearest stack.

The Moon.

Tanaka looked at the card, curious and confused, never having been challenged in quite this way. And then understanding dawned upon her, and she nodded agreement with the gods.

On the day of her birth an extraordinary celestial event had occurred. As her mother wrestled through the labor of childbirth, the moon, on its arc across the sky, moved directly into the path of the sun. The moon ate all the sunlight, even though it was the middle of the afternoon. And as the village was bathed in the strange darkness brought about by the moon's consuming the sun, Tanaka was born. A few moments later, when the moon gave the sun back to the people so they could enjoy its light and warmth, the people in attendance at Tanaka's birth realized that she had been blessed. She was a miracle child, a true-born priestess.

That strange, celestial occurrence of the moon eating the sun at the day's height, casting darkness over the land, was about to happen again! Soon.

Hardly had Tanaka realized she had correctly interpreted the tarot when she found herself face to face with another problem, one which she feared might very well be utterly insurmountable.

How was she to convince Tabor that the sun was going to be eaten by the moon in the afternoon? He took little stock in her powers as a high priestess, though he usually listened to her predictions and proclamations with tolerance or amused indifference. How could she convince Tabor, a man who believed in himself, in his own Strength —but not much else —that she had the power to help him, if only he would look at her tarot?

❧

"Woman, do you truly expect me to believe such a story?" Tabor asked, hands on his hips, his voice hushed and low so that it would not carry beyond the walls of the small room on the warship that was their only place of privacy

"It is the truth. I feel it here," Tanaka replied, placing a hand over her heart. "The sun will be eaten at midday by the moon; and at that moment, the events of the earth will be changed!"

She saw disgust flicker across her husband's face. He had listened to her when she said she needed to go to the temple in England, where the stones had been turned upright and the earth's energy was strong. He had believed her then. . . . but now he looked at her without respect.

"You can't keep fighting Ingmar the way you have," she continued. "Ingmar's forces are too strong. He has too many men and too many ships. The only way you can defeat him is to divide his troops into smaller groups or attack him when his guard is down." Tanaka felt a pang of panic chill her heart and heard a whisper of warning. "You told me that yourself. You can't keep fighting Ingmar as you have! Sooner or later he'll be able to surround you and your men. You know I'm speaking truth!"

Tabor glared at his wife in the dim light of the small room. Yes, he knew she was telling the truth; he was the one who had explained it to her. "Keep your voice down" he said. "I do not want the men to hear."

For an instant, Tanaka closed her eyes, letting her head droop. Sometimes Tabor could be so cruel, so insulting. Was he afraid that he would appear foolish in front of his men if they heard her warning? Would they think their leader had taken a madwoman for a wife if they knew she could see the future?

"You must believe me," Tanaka said, whispering now, knowing she could not push Tabor any harder or she would lose him altogether. "If you don't, something horrible will happen. I know it. I can't tell you how or why I know, but it is so!"

"There are things to be done," Tabor said dismissing her contemptuously. He opened the door. "I. have responsibilities."

He left Tanaka alone, stepping out onto his boat to be with his men. In the darkness of the cramped room that she shared with her husband, Tanaka lay down on their goose-down mattress and wept.

All she wanted was to live in peace and happiness with her husband —and the child she was certain that she carried. That's all Tanaka wanted. . . . but the way it looked now, by the time her child was born, either her husband would be dead or he would have left her, thinking her a madwoman beyond salvage, unworthy of his love.

❧

Tabor brought the sharpening stone along the edge of his sword one final time, then inspected the edge. It was sharp enough to cause hideous damage—exactly what Tabor needed.

A cool evening breeze fluffed his hair around his shoulders. Distracted, Tabor pushed it back from his eyes. He knew he should cut his mane, but Tanaka liked it because it was long and blond, so it remained untouched.

Thoughts of the argument they'd had that afternoon still plagued Tabor. How could she possibly believe that the moon would —what was it she had said? —eat the sun? It was the most absurd statement he had ever heard her make, although he had heard her voice many ridiculous things.

But what if she were right about the sun being eaten? That would give him an enormous tactical advantage. To be at the right place, at precisely the right time . . . then a surprise attack, while Ing-mar's savage warriors were confused by the sudden disappearance of the sun. . . .

Contemplating the possibilities brought a smile to Tabor's wide mouth. Even when he was furious with his wife, he couldn't help but think about her and be baffled by her. She could talk such nonsense . . . and such sense. Sense, like how Tabor could not continue fighting Ingmar the Savage with the same tactics he was using.

Ingmar kept himself surrounded by warships and mercenaries, men who sailed and fought with him because they were well paid to do so and because with Ingmar at the helm, they were allowed to commit virtually any atrocity with his cruel encouragement. The Vikings who sailed with Ingmar were the lowest, darkest form of humanity. The kind of men that thoroughly sickened Tabor.

Sooner or later, those hideous men would be able to surround Tabor and Sven. Two ships against six or seven or perhaps even more were no match. If, perhaps, the odds were only two to one, then maybe Tabor would consider a straight-ahead, all-out fight. He had enough faith in his men to believe that such odds, though unfavorable, would still provide a victory for a righteous Viking.

He sheathed his sword, then picked up the quiver of arrows near his feet. Before he inspected the arrowheads, he looked up. The men were quiet, readying the weapons of war.

A murmur of voices drew his attention, and he saw Tanaka walking toward him. With pride, Tabor noticed that the expressions on his men's faces reflected their joy at the sight of a beautiful woman. He noticed, too, that not one of the men aboard his ship looked at Tanaka in lust. If any of the men did have lustful designs on Tanaka, they hid their passion.

"Will we anchor tonight?" Tanaka asked. She sat on the small cushion at Tabor's side. The cushion had been placed there by Jafar, the Egyptian sailor. He had noticed that the high priestess often spent hours sitting beside her husband while he piloted the boat and she was forced to sit on the hard wooden bench.

"No. I have heard that Ingmar's ships are moving. I don't want to get caught in one place."

For an instant, their eyes met, and the silent question was asked: Are you still angry with me? Though not a word was spoken, the tension that still loomed between Tabor and Tanaka could be easily felt. The men who had been sitting nearby discreetly rose and moved closer to the mast to give them privacy.

"Let me tell you a story," Tanaka said, moving closer to Tabor at his post at the rudder. "It's a true story."

Tabor set the quiver of arrows aside. He tried to keep the wariness from showing in his eyes, tried to push the doubts he had of his wife from his heart, but that was not an easy thing to do, not even for a man with his strength of will.

"Continue," he said.

Tanaka felt the undercurrent of tension in her husband's voice. He was afraid of what she was going to say to him in front of his men. She folded her arms together over his knee, looking up at him with a sincerity that begged him to believe her.

"When my mother was bringing me into this world, a miracle occurred in the sky. As my mother lay straining, trying to push me into the world, the moon ate the sun and the land was swallowed up in total darkness. There was a cry throughout the land. Even the strongest and bravest of men became frightened, trembling over the mysterious thing that had happened. But then, not much later, the moon no longer liked the taste of the sun and returned the fiery ball to the earth. When there was sunlight once again, I lay there on the blanket, pink and healthy. It was determined then that I was special, that I was destined to be a priestess."

"Not high priestess?" Tabor asked, fascinated with the story despite his hesitance to believe such things.

"Only a pharaoh can anoint a high priestess," Tanaka explained. "But my birth was destined. I became what I am because of what the moon did to the sun in the sky. That is what I have tried to explain to you."

"I see," Tabor replied. He took a thick lock of Tanaka's wavy black hair and began twisting it, rubbing the smooth strands with the pad of his thumb. "What you must see is that I am responsible for ninety-nine other men. They must trust me to give them commands that will keep them alive in our fight against Ingmar the Savage. No leader of men would ever allow his heart to make decisions that should only be made with the mind."