Time and Time Again

Brynja slashed her blade at the Tollense's rippling waters in barely controlled frustration, careful not to disturb the heaps of glinting treasure nestled in the riverbed. From her position knee-deep in the murky swampland that bordered the river, she caught a sly wink of crescent-shaped gold necklaces and glowing amber beads. However, should she move a step to her right or left, all traces of the hoard vanished. Fewer places were more unnoticeable and unreachable, which only exacerbated her annoyance at her guarding duties.

"Careful not to touch the hoard," a voice behind Brynja drawled. Her two companions, fair-haired Edda and dark-haired Ragna, kept a watchful eye on their fellow priestess and their surroundings, respectively. Edda continued, "The gods might curse you."

Brynja longed to grumble that perhaps they already had cursed her, but she held her tongue. Only an imbecile would unfairly accuse the gods of prompting a battle that could lead to the destruction of her kingdom, and the Bronze Age princess was no imbecile.

She turned her steely brown eyes towards a bend in the river downstream. Two miles to the south, a sturdy causeway stretched across the marshes of the Tollense – built nearly ten generations ago by her ancestors. The raised road provided a wealth of trade in tin and fine goods to the area. Only recently, resource-deprived tribes from the south had advanced into the Tollense river valley, intent on seizing the trade for their own. Not far from the causeway, King Hallr and his dutiful son-in-law Brandr led their army against the invaders.

"I should be there," Brynja breathed before she could stop herself. Since both Edda and Ragna heard her, she decided to continue her thought aloud. "My father is a good warrior, but he's also an old one. I...I'm worried about him."

"And your new husband, too, of course?" Edda teased. She had only weathered thirteen winters, and thus, had not married yet, although she seemed to find great pleasure in ribbing wives about their husbands.

"And my new husband, too," Brynja repeated wearily. She supposed, of all the brides in the world, she was among the fortunate few with a largely agreeable life partner. Brandr was a gentle, good-hearted man, yet he fell short in appearance, regality, and fighting prowess. Brynja had a sincere fondness for him, but nothing approaching love.

He, on the other hand, adored her. She had felt it in his touch as he had pulled her aside that morning and saw it in his eyes as he swore to protect her father through the coming battle, never mind that he could barely defend his own life. Still, his nobility touched her, even if she could never reciprocate his feelings.

"I know you want to help them, Brynja, but this is your duty," Ragna piped up. "You're a priestess. You have to guard the hoard from invaders. How many enemy soldiers are there?"

"Two thousand. We have about the same."

"See?" Ragna beamed, as though Brynja's answer alone decided the battle in their favor. "We stand a chance."

"So does the enemy," Brynja pointed out. A solemn hush descended over the trio for a few long minutes. Brynja strained her ears south, searching for the clash of bronze against bronze and the cries of dying men. However, the sound of a branch snapping under a boot sounded far closer, and the trees across the river rustled with movement. In a split second, Brynja scoured the swampy landscape for cover and spotted three gnarled trees with a perfect view of the hoard's location. "Quick, into the trees!" she hissed to her companions, and they scrambled out of view as fast as their armor allowed.

A small scouting party broke through the edge of the forest, their tunics emblazoned with enemy colors. At that moment, all thoughts of joining the battle at the causeway fled from Brynja's mind; right now, she had to protect the gods' hoard from looters. She remained motionless in her lofty perch and listened to the soldiers' chatter.

"– a massive hoard somewhere in the water here," one of them was saying, stepping from the bank to the shallows with a great deal of purpose. The leader, clearly.

"In the water?" the youngest of the party exclaimed. "But I can't swim."

A man with a thick black beard and mustache roared with laughter. "Your loss, then."

The final soldier, a shrewd-looking bowman, peered at the Tollense intently, as though the rushing waters were an incomprehensible riddle. "There has to be a catch. No one would leave a pile of gold and jewels here without some sort of protection." Suddenly, his eyes flitted to the priestesses' hiding place. The young women were only saved from detection by a thick patch of clouds, which dulled the gleam of their armor and swords into shadowy branches.

Three of the four stripped away their breastplates and weapons to swim across the river. Brynja grimaced with morbid foresight at what would follow. The location of the hoard had been purposely chosen in a section of the river with uncertain currents and treacherous marshes. Only a practiced devotee could locate the limited safe paths. For four hours, the priestesses watched the men hopelessly contend with nature herself. Brynja, Edda, and Ragna struggled to remain still and quiet during their interminable wait. The edges of their armor dug through fabric and flesh, and their muscles burned with their prolonged stillness. Once, Edda lost her balance and nearly fell, but the men were distracted by a hole in the riverbed and did not see her. Eventually, a ferocious current drowned their leader and the men scattered with nothing to show for their beating.

The priestesses clambered down from the trees and checked the security of the hoard once more. Finding that all was well, they made for the hill fort. As they approached, Brynja smiled at the sight of banners in her family's colors waving triumphantly in the breeze. They had won.