TORBJÖRN

Chapter 1

berserk

adjective

1. Wild, violent, or destructive.

noun

2. berserker. Ancient Norse warriors who worked themselves into a frenzy before battle and fought with unbridled ferocity. From the old Norse words ber and serkr meaning bear shirt.

"Straight away put your mouth to him and drink the steaming blood,
Renewed strength will come to your limbs,
then shall undreamed-of might enter thy sinews,
and an accumulation of stout force shall be spread and nerve thy frame through-out."
The Danish History; Saxo Grammaticus (Saxo the learned) Circa late 12th century.

Late Ninth Century Scandinavia

Kiersten stepped from the shelter of the small cottage, too preoccupied with the day's events to notice the whispers of the land spirits had fallen silent. She struggled to pin her cloak at the neck, battling the wind that whipped it against her body. On nights like this she was thankful for the thick woollen garment that kept the cold at bay. She stood for a few minutes in front of the closed door, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the darkness. The crisp night air reddened her cheeks and fogged her breath, but she welcomed it into her lungs, the blast of freshness a reprieve from the stifling air inside.

After enduring a winter that had been as long as it was cold, Kiersten had been eager to get away from the village and call upon some of the outlying homes, ending the infinite days of bleak confinement. She knew all too well that isolation brought on by frigid temperatures could drive a person mad. Her mother begged her not to go; dreams haunted the older woman's sleep as of late, and she believed them to be prophetic. But Kiersten had always been strong minded and spirited, even as a young child, and she feared nothing.

What was meant to be a short afternoon visit with her friend Alfhildr turned into an extended stay when the young woman with the stern countenance and freckled nose went into labor. Kiersten had helped bring many children into the world, but this was Alfhildr's first pregnancy. After a long and painful labor, the goddesses Frigg and Freyja answered their prayers, granting her an easy birth. A fat, healthy son for the proud Dagr who lost his previous wife in childbirth. Kiersten smiled, remembering the joy on his face as he held the swaddled babe to his chest, tears shining in his eyes.

Kiersten began the long walk back to the village, trudging along the mucky road rutted by cart wheels. A storm brewed, heralded by tempestuous north winds that howled through the trees and the rumbling of thunder in the distance. She pulled her cloak tighter and for a moment, squeezed her eyes tight to hold back tears. It wasn't the weather that plagued her, but the small family she left behind in the cottage. She was happy for Alfhildr, but emptiness lingered in her heart, a yearning for things that would never be.

Although Kiersten's marriage was arranged, Lars had been a good husband to her. The shy young man was handsome, hardworking, and quick with a smile. "The union makes good sense," her father, a wealthy karl, told her after negotiating her bride-price. "Love will grow in time," her mother assured.

In the beginning she believed it to be true, and her affections for Lars grew. Their marriage became one of passion and lust, and Kiersten was blissfully happy. But before their first year of marriage had passed, whispers of her barrenness were eagerly traded about the village. One year became two, and still his seed wouldn't take root. Although he never spoke of it, she knew Lars blamed her. The bitterness it cultivated drove a widening wedge between them and dampened their passion until they became strangers.