The Shield Maiden's Tale, Part Two, The Runes are Cast, Chapter Five: The Best Bling has a Curse

the rune Pertho

890 CE, Spring

24 days before the wedding, daytime

Birka

Chapter Five, Part One: The Seascape Earrings are on their way…or are they?

Dazed with exhaustion, Audehilde carefully laid out the Seascape Earrings, as she had begun calling them, finished just an hour ago, in front of the Hedeby messenger sent to fetch them. The shop team crowded around as they were displayed, emitting oohs, ahhs and by Thor’s hammer! of amazement and delight. After everyone had had a look the earrings were whisked away quickly, then wrapped in blue silk before going into a pouch embroidered with twining wedding flowers, lilacs and marguerites, their petals glittering with dew drops of silver thread. The fancy pouch was then inserted into one of the plain lambskin pouches Bjornsdottir’s kept on hand for storing items whose value they sought to disguise.

Everyone involved in the project, from Audehilde and her father Bjorn all the way down to the workers supplying her with food to help her transform dull reality into magic, felt the same urgency to hide the glory of them quickly and send them on their way, before the gods noticed and snatched them out of their hands. They knew it was superstitious and silly, but just suppose Freya got a look at them? Everyone knew She had a weakness for fine jewelry, and these were indeed a wonder to behold, with the intricately carved triangles of different metals in ascending sizes, the smallest gold, the middle silver and the largest white bronze, designed to follow the graceful line of a neck exposed by upswept hair all the way to bare shoulders set off by silken garments. Bas relief carvings of ravens graced the gold and sea serpents frolicked in iridescent waves of froth in the silver. You could almost hear the birds calling to each other, and in fact if you looked very closely you could spot birds on the wing, either heading towards the center of the scene or away from it.

The seascape in the largest triangle was the trompe l’oeil triumph of the entire piece, and the reason Audehilde had started calling them in her mind the Seascape Earrings. Every time the wearer turned her head a silver moon appeared to rise from a lapis lazuli sea at the same time a golden sun set into the waves. The colors would set off the bride’s eyes, reputedly golden and aquamarine, and were designed to catch the light in such a way as to pick up the owner’s vitality, as if metal, gems and human each contributed something of their life force. Removed from their wearer the earrings were frozen in time, just waiting to assume a life of their own once more when the wearer put them on.

The Seascape Earrings were an absolute triumph, an artistic masterpiece, and Audehilde’s father chest swelled with pride as his daughter handed the package over to the messenger. In return, the messenger handed her a surprisingly light leather pouch. To a discreet round of applause and not a few audible sighs of relief, including her own, she handed this pouch to her father who pocketed it with a flourish, while trying to hide his dismay at its lightness.

Upon completion of the public exchange the messenger drew Audehilde and her father aside for a private word. “Esteemed master,” he addressed the farther while darting an admiring glance at Audehilde that made her blush with embarrassment, “The pouch I gave you is light because it contains a very generous letter of credit to be paid in full upon presentation to our paymaster in Hedeby. It’s the modern way of doing business. It’s safer to travel with a letter of credit, and you Audehilde, will be able to redeem it in Hedeby whilst you are there. This brings me to the exciting part of my message.”

He paused until Bjorn and his daughter uttered murmurs to show they were following what he was saying.

“You will be gladdened to hear that I had been instructed by my master to extend an invitation to the wedding to the jeweler here, provided her work met our high standards. I am a jeweler myself, though in a very humble capacity, and I can only say that this magnificent pair of earrings will spread your daughter’s fame even farther abroad than just Hedeby and the rest of Denmark. You must be very proud.” He reached out and took Bjorn’s hands into his own and held them while the old man blinked back tears. Then, turning to Audehilde, who was also blinking, mainly because she was so tired her eyes refused to stay open, he gently pushed a slightly heavier pouch containing a few silver coins and a carved wooden disk into her hands.

“These coins will pay for your passage to Hedeby,” he said politely, “but the best gift of all is this token here. It is made precious by its rarity. First, it promises you a place at the high table in the Great Hall for the reception following the wedding. What a thrill it will be to see your creations enhancing the radiance of the new bride! Plus I know my master Freystein will be very keen to congratulate their creator. In addition, your token allows you free room and board for the length of your stay. We are putting up only a few foreign visitors of distinction such as yourself at the Palace, so this is a high honor indeed. We encourage you to come early and stay as long as you like, and feel free to bring a companion. Of course, you can also redeem your letter of credit while you’re there.”

Audehilde’s father could barely wait until the messenger had left before bursting out, “By Odin’s spear, daughter did you hear all that? Fulsome praise indeed, plus high honors and recognition of your talent. Your mother would be so proud. We’ll have to get you a new gown for the wedding, and maybe something can be done with your hair. Is there time for you to make yourself a nice set of earrings that will, you know, add lustre to your appearance?” Gazing hopefully at his daughter, whose slight sway of sheer exhaustion made her resemblance to a boar singled out for the killing thrust even more striking, he faltered, “Anyway, your work shows genius.”

Genius enough to hide her ugliness would be genius indeed, Audehilde grinned tiredly to herself at the unexpressed thought. Poor father, such a mix of pride he had trouble showing and shame he had trouble hiding. But the messenger was proof that the gods had given her something! Glancing at the cupboard where Idona’s earrings were safely stowed away, she moved slowly towards her alcove and her waiting bed. With the wedding commission approved and the earrings on their way to their new home she could finally relax.

As she sat on the bed working the tension out of her neck and shoulders she watched her father hustle all the workers out the door, telling them they were closed for a half-day holiday to give his daughter a chance to rest, and by the way, because they had all been working so hard the first round was on him, making good his words by pressing a small coin into the hand of the chief of their little band of iron workers, sending them all chattering happily on their way to the nearest alehouse. Though she suspected it was less largesse than a desire to be alone to gloat over their success, it was still a generous gesture, and an extraordinary one for him given his stingy nature. She felt a rush of gratitude that her talent was alleviating the chronic bitterness into which her father had sunk following the death of her mother.

“If you don’t mind, father, I am off to sleep. Honestly, I am dropping in my tracks.” She crawled into her bed and pulled the fur coverlet up to her chin.

“Sleep as long as you like daughter, you’ve earned it.” But even now, at the height of her triumph, he couldn’t help planning her future aloud as he rushed around distractedly making sure everything was shut up tight for the quiet evening ahead. He stopped in front of the map of trading routes he’d drawn and hung up in pride of place over the shop’s counter to gloat for a moment.

Norse trading routes c. 890 CE, by Bjorn Bjornesson

“Your work, my dear, is going to put Birka on this map.” His eyes swam with dreamy visions for another moment before he came back to earth.

“Audehilde, you should think about leaving your natal home in a few days if you are going to arrive timely for all the festivities in Hedeby. Fortunately, with spring coming we are seeing more sea lane traffic. Ships arrive and leave our port daily, with many of the merchant ships visiting us here making their next stop Hedeby before proceeding south or west to exotic foreign lands. Birka is also becoming a port of call for ships going north, or even far east to places like St. Petersburg. Imagine your jewelry being worn by the Tsarina.”

Anticipating Audehilde’s objection he cut her off with one of his signature visions, “No I can see it!--traders from far away foreign lands making Bjornsdottir’s a destination point. The Tsarina wearing a tiara/necklace set designed by you. Chains of woven yellow gold, inset with diamonds, rubies and emeralds--I understand the Russians have a thing about emeralds.” He stopped at the sight of daughter’s little face over the covers, almost cute as she dutifully struggled to imagine his description of a rosy future. He gave her one of his awkward pats, stick arms capable of moving in one direction only, up and down as if on a hinge.

“Leave all the boring details to me. Just keep being a genius and let me do the rest.” Ignoring the faint snort that came from the bed, maybe Audehilde was snoring already? he went on, “Tomorrow I’ll make the travel arrangements for you, and your friend Anaolga can help you pack. Perhaps she can help you shop for a gown to wear—and she might also know someone who’s good with hair.”

When her father finally ran down and started humming his little counting song while banking up the hearth fire, she timidly ventured, “I am not sure I want to go, father. You know how I hate people staring at me. Why don’t you go, and I can stay here?”

“Nonsense, my dear girl. It’s the creator they want to see! This is your chance to expand your horizons, meet new people, bloom! If nothing else we need to collect on our letter of credit, but besides that it will be a good business opportunity. Freystein must want to offer you a new commission, why else invite you to the wedding? Perhaps he has something else in mind--the gods only know what the man is thinking. Everyone says he’s very rich! Speaking of which, before you go, I’ll instruct you in the art of negotiation. Given the excellence of your work we need to raise our prices.”

Negotiations! It made her feel like a prize goat at an auction, but goats at least got better prices than slaves, so she shouldn’t mind being milked for her talent. Even so, she protested feebly,

“Negotiating is just not something I’m made for, father. Negotiating with metal is my strength. I am shy around people.”

Her father’s answer astonished her.

“I understand. It’s the genius in you. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

He proceeded to dampen her rush of warmth by continuing, “But by the same token I’d never forgive myself if I let you hide your talent away. A gift like yours shouldn’t go to waste. Even geniuses have to do things they don’t like. Maybe especially them.” An idea struck him then.

“How about this? Why don’t you ask Anaolga to accompany you?” The more he thought it about the better he liked the idea. He would even foot the bill. Anaolga wasn’t shy, though she had every reason to be with her useless arm it seemed to him, but unlike his daughter she held her own in company and was gaining a reputation as a talented herbalist. Everyone hoped she would learn enough from Hildreth before the revered old lady was called to Folksvangr, which the villagers feared would be any day now.

Anaolga would be a good influence on Audehilde. His daughter didn’t have any obvious defects like Anaolga’s to be ashamed of and was very talented besides. So what if she wasn’t a looker, not that many women were and besides, she had so much else to offer, as in addition to having all her limbs she was extremely gifted, on the verge of greatness even, with a saleable skill that made her a good earner.

It wasn’t fair anyway—if a plain face didn’t stop any man from making his way in the world he wasn’t about to let it stop his daughter. He felt a fierce sense of protectiveness well up in him as he regarded the lumpish form under the furs. He ceased his restless tidying to sit on the bed next to her, almost reaching out to stroke her hair, then stopping himself to shape with sweeping gestures the marvelous future unfolding before them. If nothing else, using one’s hands ran in the family.

“It’s a Freya-sent opportunity, Hilde. Remember I even mentioned to you that you should have some time off to relax because you have been working so hard? Well, here you are. You’ll be able to travel south, experience new things, meet new people, and come back refreshed with another lucrative commission from Freystein. And probably commissions from other merchants besides. You’re well on your way to fame and fortune, my dear. This chance is a gift from the gods, and it would be churlish to turn it down. Get some rest and I’ll talk to Anaolga tomorrow.”

He paused as another argument in favor of the scheme came to him. “It will be good for your friend too. Maybe in a big town like Hedeby she’ll meet a rich merchant who will be so taken by her charms he’ll be willing to overlook her withered arm. It’s a shame, she’s got all the looks in that family and most of the brains but that arm.... Never mind, consider it settled, tomorrow I’ll find a ship going south and book a passage for two.”

Snuggling further under the covers Audehilde drowsily reflected that in connection with beauty in the Bjarkesson family it was always Anaolga people referred to. She thought Idona was perfect, but maybe her bad eyesight made her unaware of the extent of Idona’s plainness, especially when compared to Anaolga’s beauty. It was funny how things worked out. Even she, the girl everyone said looked too much like a troll to ever attract a lover might have a chance with Idona, especially if the apple of her purblind eye wasn’t sending suitors packing either. Get the earrings on the girl, become her first lover, and Idona would belong to her forever. Maybe Audehilde had more to learn from the Svartelfheim dwarves than jewelers’ techniques—she’d start exploiting her talent just like they did to distract from physical imperfection. If they could catch a goddess, she could snare a shield maiden. She smiled to herself, only half-hearing her father greet Erik the Fat who had just come in from outside, “And here is your friend Idona’s cat, fresh from a hunting lesson no doubt, to keep you company. It’s a sign.”

Her last impressions before closing her eyes for the next twenty-four hours were of Erik the Fat slinking inside through a crack in the wall that had been widened for her convenience and curling up on her own little pile of furs beside Audehilde’s bed, and of her father touching Thor’s hammer reverently before slinking off himself, clutching the pouches, one containing the generous letter of credit, the other the precious token representing Audehilde’s advancement into the ranks of wealth and privilege he was so sure she was meant for. For the first time in a long time, he dared to think the future for himself and his plain daughter might be very bright indeed.

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Chapter Five, Part Two. Enter the Cat Burglar

23 days before the wedding, after midnight

In fact Erik had skipped Idona’s hunting lesson because she had much more important things to do. The first stage of her Freya-approved plan had already been set in motion. She’d been monitoring the comings and goings of the merchant ships coming into Birka’s port, anticipating the arrival of the messenger come to pick up the wedding earrings, and she’d been rewarded when the knarr Sea Wind had come in that day. After a well-dressed man had asked a passerby for directions to Bjornsdottir’s Erik had followed him right into the shop and witnessed the exchange of earrings for a leather pouch. If that part was easier than catching a three-legged rat, the next part was like catching a blind and deaf three-legged rat. Hot on his heels after he left the shop, his first stop was the nearest alehouse, where he was soon joined by the Bjornsdottirs’s workers who greeted him like an old friend. In just a few minutes’ eavesdropping she was able to ascertain the messenger’s lodgings (the hut behind the alehouse) and his date and means of departure (tomorrow morning by an older warship turned trading ship by the addition of a bigger sail, called Storm of Thorstein).

Leaving him to it, Erik approached the first messenger bird in the queue lined up along the beach wall, who happened to be a seagull. She kept her message to Freya short, since a gull’s head can’t contain much information: The game is afoot. Bjornsdottir’s. After midnight.’ Then she strolled back to Audehilde’s house, where she would wait until she was sure Audehilde was dead to the world before initiating phase two. A well-deserved cat nap would take care of the intervening hours.

At midnight, when all was still, Erik opened one eye, looked around, stretched, then crept on silent cat’s paws to the cupboard where Audehilde had hidden Idona’s earrings. Part of her preparation work had been to eliminate most of the rodents a few days prior to the Big Night. She didn’t want some stray rat skittering across Audehilde’s face and waking her up. Unfortunately, the cupboard was locked but no matter; the extra key was hanging on a string above the girl’s bed, and Audehilde herself was burrowed deeply under the covers, snoring loudly. The cat retrieved the key and managed, after several tries, to turn the key in the lock by holding it in her jaws and twisting her head just right. Finally the door swung open, (she should get extra pay for this) and to her relief the pouch with the Idona earrings (the ones Freya coveted) was exactly where Audhilde had left it a few days earlier, third shelf up and behind the tool box. The cat picked it up in her mouth, jumped down, closed the cupboard door but didn’t lock it, and sauntered outside to where her goddess awaited her.

Erik was relieved to see that Freya had chosen a Midgard-type sleigh drawn by reindeer for the trip to the alehouse instead of the cat chariot. After jumping onto the fur-lined seat she carefully placed the fruits of her labor next to the goddess, feeling a little like a housecat depositing a freshly caught mouse at its guardian’s feet. Although the goddess’s response was all she could have hoped for; in a matter of seconds She had put them on and was examining Herself in a hand mirror, making cooing noises. She looked ravishing because She always did, but Audehilde had that rare artistic touch that transformed beautiful into breathtaking. The earrings seemed to drink in the moonlight, which in turn cast a glow that limned the wearer’s features in silver. And could that be Erik herself on the tree’s silver branches? the little gold cat’s silver-dappled eyes seemed to follow the movements of a feline paw reaching out to bat the air in a way no cat, or presumably suitor, could resist. By Brisinghamen, the golden cat was tout a fait awesome, and there were two of them!

Meanwhile the goddess was whispering incantations to each earring before restoring it to its lambskin home. Finally, after another round of hushed muttering and hand waving, She relinquished the pouch to Erik. Then, returning from the realm of enchantment where spells were made, She looked benignly (for once) at Her ally in the evening’s escapade.

“Sorry I took so long, Erik. I kept thinking of more spells I had to add.” The cat moved closer to curl up next to Her so She could nuzzle her behind her ears in just the right places, purring to let Her know when She’d achieved perfection.

“Well done, Erik, you’re an excellent cat burglar,” the goddess congratulated Her partner in crime gleefully. “I have you to thank for bringing Me here. What a delicious caper! I haven’t had such fun since My negotiations with those dwarves over My favorite necklace.” She continued stroking the cat-turned-criminal, who purred in response. Whoever said crime does not pay hasn’t been working for a goddess.

“Speaking of dwarves, these earrings are very interesting work,” the goddess informed her, brimming with facts about one of Her favorite subjects. “They already contain a primitive amuse d’amour spell very reminiscent of Dvalinn the Dwarf’s early masterpieces. Whoever made them is clearly touched by dwarf magic. Now, since anyone capable of creating such beauty deserves My protection I will have you make the arrangements necessary to upgrade, what’s her name, Audehilde?’s status. Then I want you to assume the duties of animal-guide in her regard, under My auspices.”

Erik’s purring ceased abruptly. Freya held up Her hand to stop the protest She knew was coming.

“It’s not a demotion, My multitalented cat. I am pleased with what you have accomplished so far but your task is not complete until the earrings come into Annike’s possession. After the spell I’ve cast on them these earrings have become important to Me--they belong to Me. I see Myself owning them eventually, but the chain of ownership must follow Deific Protocol. The best way to acquire them is as a legacy from their owner, made freely out of love and respect for My person and My Divine Being. Annike will do certainly do that when the time comes. You see, We gods and goddesses must earn the worship of Our underlings—mortals or dwarves or whoever they may be. We mustn’t demand gifts or try to scare Our minions into making sacrifices in Our name. I keep saying that it’s voluntary veneration or extinction for Us but getting some of the numbskulls in Valhalla to see the blindingly obvious can be a struggle. I’m afraid two eyes do see better than one.”

She scratched Erik under the chin just right to activate her purring reflex--no cat can resist the touch of a goddess. Scratching patiently, She waited until Erik was fully under Her spell again before continuing.

“Here’s My plan. I want you to stay in the vicinity to oversee things and report to Me. In the interests of keeping a better eye on My new protégé Audehilde you are herewith discharged from Idona duty. She’s Odin’s responsibility anyway, and I no longer care what He does with her. You can continue with her hunting lessons or not, it’s up to you. I know you enjoy them and they are doing wonders for your figure.”

Ignoring Erik’s vexation, conveyed by the diminution of purring sounds, Freya went on blithely,

“I’ve increased the earrings’ power by adding other spells. First, the true owner of the earrings will be lucky in love and fertility. Then, after a long and happy life the owner will be overcome by a desire to bequeath the earrings to Me, out of sheer gratitude. But just to be on the safe side I’ve put a curse on them as well. If the earrings should fall into the wrong hands, illegitimate hands, in other words, for instance into the hands of someone who does not worship Me and is not likely to leave them to Me, then that person will be plagued with bad luck. Deaths in the family, loss of wealth, dismemberment, sensory losses, skin diseases like boils and scrofula, the usual afflictions. Not that I think that will happen but One should be prepared for all eventualities. Besides, all great jewelry has a curse on it. A piece of jewelry imbued with a curse is automatically elevated into the realm of the magical and before long into legend. And these earrings are definitely curse-worthy. I just love them. Now, where does this sleigh need to take you?”

Chapter Five, Part 3: Erik gets help from a mob boss

23 days before the wedding, early morning

Freya dropped the cat off in front of the alehouse and Erik, pouch filled with freshly cursed earrings in her mouth, crept around the back to the guest hut, then prowled its exterior, looking for a way in. All was silent inside and out, but she figured the messenger would have gone to bed by now, not wanting to miss his ship the next morning.

A fierce whisper of “Who goes there?” broke the profound quiet, then a fox suddenly appeared from around the corner. The fox and the cat stared at each other, Erik arched her back and tried a small hiss, while the sentry fox just gave her disdainful glare before speaking.

“You realize you are trespassing on Skulk territory. Entry is denied to unauthorized personnel.” The fox gave her a closer once-over. “Which I am sure includes you. Housecat.”

Erik bristled. “I beg your pardon. I am NOT a housecat,” she snarled. “I am a palace cat.”

“A what? I’ve never heard of a palace cat.”

“I am also a Chariot Cat. I am sure you’ve heard of them. Besides, I am working for Freya on a top secret mission.”

“What top secret?”

“It’s a secret, so I can’t tell you. Obviously. That’s what secret means.”

“For Freya?” the sentry sounded doubtful.

“Yes, the goddess, I am sure you’ve heard of Her. Look, I really need to get on with my assignment or the goddess will be furious. With both of us.”

The sentry shook her head, then shrugged. “I can’t authorize admittance. But I can take you to my mob boss,” she conceded, then turned and dropped into a burrow that Erik hadn’t seen before, beckoning the cat to follow. Erik picked up the pouch in her mouth and followed.

Fox hierarchy was composed of groups of foxes called mobs. A collection of mobs formed a larger organization called a Skulk. Erik was ushered into the headquarters of one of the mob bosses whose aspiration was to climb the ladder into the very top ranks of the Skulk organization, whose territory covered the entirety of Birka. Her name was Pearl, but no one ever called her that; she was addressed as Madam, Ma’am or Boss, with a few of the Saxon foxes calling her Guv.

The mob headquarters contained many chambers connected by a network of burrows that extended underneath the entire merchant area of Birka, a very lucrative location indeed, if the interior decoration of Madam’s main office was anything to go by. A long table with high back chairs occupied the center, apparently where all the planning took place, for it was strewn with sketches of underground networks of burrows leading into wealthy mercantile establishments and homes. It was a comfortable as well as a busy place; the walls were lined with velvet couches to recline on, and the entire room was illuminated with a very modern recessed-lighting system composed of candles flickering from niches carved every few feet into the earthen walls. A framed portrait of the Skulk Leader, a handsome red fox called the Reynard, was surrounded by shiny objets d’art of varying quality, including quite a few mirrors. The soft candlelight cast a luminous glow on the figure seated at the head of the table.

Before seating herself at the end of the table the sentry politely introduced Erik to the most beautiful creature the cat had ever seen in her long life, and her line of work had brought her into contact with many. Chariot Cats were chosen for their attractiveness as well as their intelligence, but the beauty of this Arctic fox, with her pure white fur and a tail to die for easily outshone them all. Maybe it was the feral quality to her beauty that made it a thing apart from the semidomesticated cat; at any rate it was a type of seductive beauty so extraordinary as to be unreal, like a wisp of a half-remembered dream you were sorry to wake up from.

Erik took a vacant seat next to Madam, dropped her pouch on the table, and blinked her eyes. Maybe she was dreaming, but the vision remained, and then Madam spoke. The tone with which she asked why Erik was there was real enough, with a voice typically vulpine; low, growly, even raspy, but at the same time caressing, like a silken robe against one’s skin. The vixen’s tone of friendly inquisitiveness belied a complicated intelligence, yet the hint of menace hovering in the air only made her beauty that much more formidable.

Getting a grip on herself, Erik launched into an explanation that played on the foxes’ known penchant for games and tricks. She thought this kind of high-level tricksterism would be right down Madam’s burrow; Freya’s involvement, casting spells, switching objects on unsuspecting victims that required stealth… as soon as Erik mentioned jewelry Madam’s eyes narrowed, and after another glance at the walls Erik suddenly understood that by a stroke of luck she’d come across someone who had a passion for all things that glittered, whether gold or gilt. She adjusted her narration accordingly, talking up the wonders of the earrings.

“Show me,” demanded Madam finally, her impatience getting the better of her.

Her golden eyes widened when Erik drew out the earrings. After a long silence she turned to a mirror (there were plenty in the room) lifted one up and held it to one side of her perfect face. The vixen’s beauty was so enhanced by the earring that time seemed to stop for Erik, the sentry and the few soldier foxes seated at the table and Madam herself, as everyone quaffed her image as if it were some kind of magic elixir.

Finally Madam tore her eyes away, then respectfully returned both earrings to their pouch.

“The workmanship is genius, and the spell elevates them to the level of legendary. I can see why Freya wants them.” Madam gave Erik that piercing stare foxes were so good at. Erik felt slightly dizzy at the impact.

“So it’s an elaborate trick you’re playing, do I have this right?”

“Yes, Madam. Freya wants to own the earrings I just showed you.”

“But She can’t just take them, because the maker meant them for Idona. It’s indeed admirable when a goddess plays by the rules. You don’t just take, that would be stealing. You use wiles and strategy to get what you want. It’s the honor system. We foxes are very proud of our Vulponeonic Code d’Honneur.”

“Freya must be very proud of you foxes and your um, Code D’ Honneur.” Erik paused, hoping her French accent would pass muster. The vixen didn’t blink so she soldiered on.

“You have it exactly, Freya couldn’t just take the earrings. Instead, She put a spell on them. As long as I can switch this pair with the earrings that the messenger is carrying back to Hedeby, and the bride Annike takes possession of these earrings on her wedding day, then the terms of the spell revert the ownership to Annike in a perfectly legal way, and she can pass them on the Freya. It’s all fair and square. Audehilde will still have beautiful earrings to give to Idona, so nobody loses, everybody wins.”

Madam grinned craftily. “That’s all very ingenious, housecat, except for one thing.”

“Chariot cat. And what’s that?”

“My mob controls all the passageways in and out of this alehouse, including the little cottage where the messenger is now sleeping peacefully.”

Erik hoped her worry didn’t show. “You’re not interested in teaming up with the goddess in pursuing what you said yourself was a good trick? I hear you foxes live for tricks.”

“We don’t live for tricks, housecat, we make our living with tricks. I trust the subtle difference is not lost on you.”

Wrong move. The cat realized too late that Madam’s fox status suggested a close alliance with deities who weren’t impressed with Erik’s name dropping of Freya, in fact she vaguely recalled a reference to Loki and shape-shifting involving foxes. She was about to switch tactics to mention the two shared a common interest in their love of jewelry but Madam, three moves ahead, beat her to it.

“As you can see, I am not averse to collecting the little extras that come with a job.” She gestured at the trinket-covered walls. “Let’s cut to the chase. If we helped you make the switch, easily done if we’re involved, impossible if we’re not, what would be my reward?”

“What would be reasonable?” Erik asked, keeping her voice steady.

They haggled a bit and finally came to an agreement. With a mere glance in their direction two soldiers seated at the table hastily arose, collected the pouch and scurried away.

“They won’t be long,” said Madam. “Tea?”

By the time Madama and Erik were on their second cup the soldiers had returned with an identical pouch. Erik drew the Seascape earrings which Audehilde had created to go to Hedeby and the awaiting bride out of their pouch.

“These are lovely too,” said Madam. “But they certainly don’t have that special goddess-spell dazzle. Well, done, you two. How did it go?”

The two soldiers responded eagerly.

“It was easy. He’d tied the pouch to a string around his neck and tucked it under his shirt for safekeeping. Not a problem for us.”

The second soldier chimed in.

“Even though he was lying on his stomach which made it harder, but he was dead to the world. First I had to pick at the knot until it came untied, then I had to pull the string with the pouch still attached slowly out from under his body. Carmella helped me by breathing le parfum soporofique into his nose.”

Carmela grinned, “He was snoring like a hibernating bear. Once we got the pouch we’d come for we were able to tie the string to the other pouch and tuck it under his tummy. So when he wakes up in the morning, he’ll just think it came untied.”

With the pouch gripped in her jaws and her huge paws flexed out to their maximum width so they floated over snowdrifts instead of sinking into them Eril bounded over the snow for Audehilde’s hut. It was almost a shame no one was around to admire her flight, she was a radiant ball of a star blazing a trail of sparks behind her that arced through the pitch blackness, like a golden rainbow of the night.

It was the work of a few moments to open the cupboard, put the replacement pouch on the shelf, close and lock the door, hang the key back on the wall, then curl up on her furs. It was a job well done, she told herself. And yet…Erik had trouble settling because Madam’s parting words kept returning to haunt her. The vixen’s golden eyes, glittering with a diamond hard spark that hadn’t been there before, hovered over her fitful attempts to sleep. Then her brilliant gold eyes were joined by Freya’s eyes the color of warm, golden honey, and their utterances followed each other like a rising sun chasing a setting sun in an orbit around a globe the size of one of those oranges Freya was so fond of eating that made Erik’s nose itch.

“Remember, housecat, what you owe me,” murmured the demi-goddess vixen in a voice that promised a painful but sensuous experience, like being stroked by a velvet glove studded randomly with burrs.

The goddess she’d served for so long reminded her in Her typical Self-centered ranty way, “After the spell I’ve cast on them these earrings have become important to Me--they belong to Me.” Her comet trail left a wake of Me, Me, Me’s after it as She flew by.

The earrings were sailing to Hedeby so at least the task Freya had set her was headed towards completion. Only now Erik was faced with this new complication. The cat tossed and turned, debating whether to remove the paper Madam had tucked into the pouch with the seascape earrings. Unable to sleep, she finally got up from her bed, grabbed the key, crept to the cupboard, unlocked it, took down the pouch, removed the slip of paper, put the pouch back, locked the cupboard, returned the key, then placed the paper on Audehilde’s workbench. Hopefully Audehilde would take it for a new commission and just go ahead and make it, without asking too many questions. Erik’s troubles wouldn’t be over, but that would be a good start.

She dropped onto her bed, utterly exhausted, her head spinning. That’s what she got for all her plotting--now along with her relationship with a Vanir goddess she had a vixen-goddess to deal with.

“Madam is a direct descendant of the goddess Sigyn who was married to Loki,” the sentry fox had informed Erik in a reverent whisper while escorting the cat out of the tunnel. Which explained why the vixen had stiffened ever-so-slightly whenever Erik mentioned Freya. There was no love lost between Loki and Freya, the cat had heard enough stories about Their clashes to know that.

Never mind. She was a Chariot Cat, born to play games with goddesses. Bring them on.

Erik and Audehilde’s snores punctuated the remains of the night and the last really peaceful sleep the two were to enjoy for quite some time to come. The wheels of the hidden game which, unwittingly, both of them had set in motion, were starting to turn.