Sigyn's Song

by Meg Trotter

  “Oh, Skarde,” Valka sniffed. “Don’t talk like that. I’ll marry you, of course.”

  Freydis snorted and stalked away, joining her father who was talking with yet more men. Maera took her leave of the two blubbering lovers also, though she did so more quietly.

  She’d just retreated to the bed where she had woken up when Prince Erik slipped through the door. Maera realized with a start that she hadn’t thought to go see if he was all right. He had a shallow slash on his forehead, and a rag tied to his shoulder that was stained faintly red, but all in all, he looked like he’d come out of the fight without major damage.

  He exchanged a few words with Freydis and her father, but his eyes found her and he stopped talking abruptly. He went to her in a few long-legged strides and gathered her into his arms. She stood there, with her cheek pressed against his chest and breathed in the smell of him. She pulled him tight, hoping to pull some of his strength to use as her own. Maera felt like her own was dangerously low.

  “When I heard you’d run out into the fight to save your friend, I was mad with worry,” he breathed. “It was marvelously brave, dear-heart.”

  Maera gave a little sob, startling both herself and the prince with the sound. She pressed her face into his clothes as she cried, miserable, embarrassed, and just wanting to disappear. Erik stroked her hair and made soothing sounds as he led her to one of the empty beds. They sank down to sit on it together and he let her cry until her tears dried up.

  Once the wave of emotion had dissipated, Maera wiped at her face and pulled back, intending to apologize. However he bent and caught her mouth in a kiss. The gentleness of it almost made her start to cry again.

  She didn’t understand why.

  Chapter 16

  Maera wiped a trickle of sweat from her forehead as she handed up a hammer to Freydis several days later. The chief’s daughter was balanced on the roof of one longhouse that had suffered fire damage in the raid. Half the roof had burned up before nearby villagers had dragged enough water up from the beach to snuff out the flames. Valka’s home next door had not been so lucky. Parts of it were still smoldering slightly in the morning sun. The raiders had set fire to it after killing her father and trying to abduct her.

  Freydis took the hammer and set to work pounding little bits of pointed iron into a fresh board to cover a hole in the salvageable house. On the ground, Valka and Maera prepared to hoist up another board as soon as their friend called for it. Valka stared a little blankly out at the horizon as she took a swig of water from a cup and passed it to Maera.

  “How’s your head, Sigyn?” Valka asked, nodding to Maera. The knot that had popped up there from her fight with Tyr had been painful and ugly for a while, but had faded to leave a yellowing bruise.

  “Not bad,” Maera said. Truthfully, it was painful to the touch and still gave her occasional headaches. However, explaining all that in the human tongue seemed like more effort than it was worth. She sorely missed not having to think so hard to say simple things. Not having someone to converse with in her native tongue was almost as exhausting as house repairs.

  “Let us know if you start feeling dizzy or anything,” Freydis commanded, leaning over the edge of the house. “You probably shouldn’t even be out here in this sun to begin with. The weather is unseasonably warm today.”

  “I’m fine. Thank you,” Maera said with a forced smile. She handed her cup back to Valka.

  Freydis gave her a skeptical look, but held out her hands for the next board. Valka wasn’t paying attention, so Maera hefted the long piece of wood and slid it up to Freydis.

  Valka took another sip of her water, and seemed to come back to herself. “Skarde is healing from his wounds too. You should see all the bandages.” She shook her head sadly. “He’s a mess.” Freydis snorted, but when Valka looked up sharply, the dark-haired girl focused on pounding in the next nail. Valka hesitated, then continued, focusing her attention on Maera, who was trying to listen politely. “I visited last night to check up on him. He thinks he’ll be well enough to go to the Winter Nights Festival at Kaupangen in a couple days. He also said he still planned to officially ask me to be his wife at the festival. Father ...” here her voice cracked, and her eyes grew damp. She took a steadying breath before clearing her throat and trying again. “Father had already agreed to the match before he died, so it’s just a matter of formality and-” Freydis’ hammer banged loudly against the roof, drowning out the rest of Valka’s words.

  Valka stopped talking and frowned up at her friend. Once the hammering stopped, she spoke again. “You know, I’m getting the feeling that you’re not supportive of this match,” she said with a sniff.

  The hammering started up again for a few moments before Freydis looked down at them. She pulled the last couple of nails out of her mouth and gripped them in her free hand. “I’m not supportive of manipulation.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Freydis blew out a puff of air to push a strand of sweaty dark hair out of her face. “I mean that man is saying all the right words and doing all the right things.”

  “And that’s a bad thing?” Valka raised an eyebrow.

  “It is when he’s doing it the way he is,” Freydis said. “He’s decided he wants you, and he’s taking steps to make sure he gets you.”

  “That’s called courtship, Freydis,” Valka snapped. “I know you didn’t have to worry about that, with your arranged marriage and all, but for us lowly common folk-”

  “That man left you to die,” Freydis snapped, pointing at Valka with her hammer. “He was cowering in the dirt when Sigyn and I found him during the raid.”

  “He was hurt-” Valka began.

  “Hurt too badly to come after you when you were dragged down to another man’s boat to have gods-knows-what done to you?” Freydis growled. “Whereas your friends fought down to the beach after we’d both been assaulted ourselves. Hel, even Sigyn knifed a guy twice her size to get to you,” she said, gesturing to Maera with the hammer. “And yet your sweet suitor sat cowering in the dust because he’d been faced by ONE man with a club.”

  Tears sprung to Valka’s eyes again, and Freydis hesitated, her anger simmering back down to a low boil. She sighed. “Listen, I know that things are different now that your father ... that he’s gone.” She swallowed hard. “But you don’t have to marry Skarde to have a protector. You can come live with me and Father. We have more than enough room. We can help you with your farm and-”

  “And be husband-less spinsters all our lives?”

  “There are worse things to be,” Freydis said softly.

  “Skarde loves me,” snapped Valka. “He told me that you and Sigyn both hated him, though he didn’t know why. He said you’d try to keep us apart. I stood up for you. I said you were my friends and that you’d never try to hurt me.”

  “Gods, we’re not trying to hurt you, Val,” Freydis said. But Valka wasn’t listening. She had already turned away from them and was stomping back down the path. Freydis let out a frustrated growl and threw the hammer down. It landed a few feet away from Maera in the dirt, kicking up a little cloud from the impact. Freydis cursed and stalked over to the other side of the roof, where a ladder had been propped to help her up in the first place. She disappeared somewhere on the other side of the house and tromped away.

  Maera sighed and leaned her back against the wall. A cloud had drifted over the sun, giving some relief from the heat. She wished she could just as easily pull something over herself to block out the dark feelings beating down on her. It all made her want to crawl into bed and bury herself in the furs until the full moon. It wouldn’t be long now. She just had to hold on for a few more days. Maera absently scraped one of her nails against the beads around her wrist to clear it of a few flecks of blood she’d missed when trying to clean it a few days prior. One of the flecks was golden.

  “There you are.”

  Maera looked up to see Erik, smeared with a fine layer of dirt, walking toward her with a
small smile and a sweat-damp shirt. The sight didn’t cheer her up as much as she knew it should. He bent and gave her a brief kiss before turning to join her in the limited shade of the house. The sun was out again. “Making progress with the roofs?” he asked.

  She nodded. “Taking a break.”

  “Us too.” He wiped his forehead with the back of his arm, leaving a dirtier streak there. “We dug the ditch and buried the dead raiders inland away from the town. Chief Orm wanted to visit with the families of the individual dead villagers though, and see how they wanted their funeral rites performed.” His eyes were focused on the horizon and were clouded with emotion.

  Maera bent and retrieved Valka’s abandoned half-full cup of water and offered it up to him. “So sad,” she said, nodding out to where she knew the prince had been, helping the villagers to deal with the bodies.

  He thanked her and took the cup, swigging it down with as much relish as if it was something with more bite to it. He sighed and thumped the back of his head against the longhouse. It caused a few strands of sweaty hair to fall in his eyes.

  “They died because those raiders were looking for me. One of the dead raiders was a man the chief said confronted you all when we had gotten back from the boat trip. They knew I was here, and they took it out on innocent men.” He shook his head. “Thank the gods that they didn’t get any of the women or children. I couldn’t have stomached that. It’s enough to make a man want to give it all up and just live as a farmer for the rest of his life.”

  They silently stared out at the horizon together until a question tickled at the back of her mind. “Would you?” Maera asked softly, not looking at him.

  He considered this and then gave a half-hearted chuckle. “What, just .... not go home? Let my brother have the throne?” He paused again and then turned to her with a thoughtful look. “Stay here and build a home with an enchanting village girl?”

  Maera turned the suggestion over in her head. If she didn’t have to go back home to try to protect her father, would she have been content to live here with Erik’s intense stares and gentle kisses? Maybe. It would beat living in that hole under the sea, anyway. She supposed it didn’t matter either way. She couldn’t stay here. She had to get back home to try to find another way to protect her family. Maera didn’t say any of this to Erik, though. He needed to stay in love with her after all, and she suspected an answer of “I guess so” wasn’t going to be all that encouraging. She looked over at him and pulled up a small smile. “Could I tempt you to stay?”

  Prince Erik smiled. The sweetness of the expression made Maera feel a pinch of guilt. “Maybe,” he said. “You are awfully tempting.” He let his gaze roam over her face, studying her as if afraid he might forget her at any moment. He reached for her hand. “Let’s go down to the water for a swim. Nobody can fault us for taking a break.”

  When they arrived, hand-in-hand, only a few of the people down by the water looked their way. A few sat on the beach, talking in small groups. Some were still on the docks, inspecting the ships. The only others in the water were a few young children with their mothers. At the water’s edge, Erik released Maera’s hand to strip off his shirt and kick off his shoes. Maera tilted her head as she gave his back an appreciative inspection. He turned and tossed the shirt at her with a laugh. “Come on, you too.”

  She caught the shirt with a smirk. A quick glance at the other women in the water told her that she was expected to take off the top layer, the dress, but not the thin pants and shirt underneath. She shed the dress and dropped it in a pile on the sand out of the reach of the waves. When she turned back to Erik, he was already waist-deep in the water, slapping the surface lightly with his palms. He grinned at her. She found herself smiling back.

  Kicking off her shoes, she joined him, wincing at the sting of the cold water. Funny, how she’d never noticed the temperature when she’d been a mermaid. It would be hard to adjust to when she went back home. She was getting too used to the sun.

  Once Maera reached Erik, he led them out into deeper water until it lapped against their chests. He ducked under and then popped up again, smiling at her through his dripping hair. Maera followed his example, ducking under the water. She stayed there a bit longer than he had, relishing the familiar feel of her home surrounding her before breaking through to the surface again and blinking the sea water out of her eyes.

  His expression softened, and he reached for her, drawing her to him. “That’s a nice look on you,” he murmured. He gently tugged on a strand of her wet hair. “This is what I remember seeing when you rescued me.”

  She twined her fingers around the hammer pendant around his neck. “You look better this time,” she said.

  He laughed, and with a soft tug on his pendant, she pulled him closer. When he bent, she stood on tiptoe to catch his mouth with hers. He made a soft pleased sound and drew her closer. It was a pleasant distraction. His hands roamed over her hips and then up her back. When his fingertips started digging uncomfortably into her shoulder blades, she broke from the kiss.

  He smiled down at her, a little breathless. “You know, when you put it like that, it is extremely tempting to just throw off all my responsibilities and stay here with you for the rest of my days.” Maera shivered in the cool water, and he leaned forward and gave her a brief kiss on the nose. “I suppose the water is still a bit chilly for swimming. Let’s head back in. Maybe I can get Chief Orm to let me borrow his private quarters while we change into dry clothes. I’d like the chance to have you to myself for a while.”

  She forced a smile at this, but didn’t respond. She couldn’t decide if that sounded tempting or not. Erik didn’t seem to notice her hesitation. He reached out and brushed a stray strand of wet hair from her face and started to lean in for another kiss. However a shout from shore drew their attention. A middle-age man jogged up the shoreline, stopping at the water to wave to them. “Prince Erik!” he called.

  Erik stepped back from Maera and they waded up to shore together. “What’s wrong?” Erik asked the man when he saw his anxious expression.

  The man pointed over his shoulder back toward the village. “The red-headed raider woman. She’s finally awake. And she’s asking for you.”

  Chapter 17

  After drying off and changing clothes at Freydis’ house, Maera followed Erik out to the sick-house. She felt a strange dread when a man from the village pushed open the door and motioned them both inside. Her eyes first went to Loki’s empty bed before she turned her attention to her own bed.

  The red-headed woman sat on the edge, her delicate hands wrapped around a cup of something steaming. Her hair was loose and wild, but it looked as if she’d attempted to wash her soot-smeared face. She held her chin high when Erik came to stand in front of her. Maera stopped a step behind him, while a couple other village men hovered near the door.

  Her green eyes studied everyone before settling on Maera for a heartbeat longer. She then turned her attention toward Erik and dipped her head in respect. “Your highness.”

  Erik crossed his arms over his chest. “They say you asked for me,” he said. “How did you know I was here?”

  “The men who captured me talked about little else than finding you.”

  “And who are you, exactly?” Erik asked.

  “I’m Gunnhilde, daughter of Gorm the Old,” she replied. This seemed to mean something to Erik. His eyebrows rose a moment before falling back into place. She continued. “I was visiting a market near my home when the leader of those brutes saw me and decided to take me with him. He’d heard rumors of ...” She paused, her eyes dropped to the hammer pendant hanging against the prince’s chest before she continued. “Of my talents in witchcraft.”

  One of the men by the door grunted. “I thought the ones supporting Haakon didn’t approve of witchcraft.”

  Gunnhilde smiled a little. “Funny how they claim that until they find themselves in need of a witch.”

  Erik snorted at this. “What kind of witchcraf
t did they want from you?”

  “Finding you.” Gunnhilde said. “It was an easy thing to track you here. The glitter of the gods’ favor is bright around you. I’ve never seen brighter. You are destined for such greatness.”

  Maera’s eyes darted to Erik. Interest flickered across his features. She stepped forward a little, brushing her hand against his. The contact made him jump, and he glanced down at Maera as if he’d forgotten she was there. Gunnhilde’s gaze snapped to Maera and lingered there again before drifting back to Erik. “In fact, that is why I asked to see you. I have a message for you,” the witch said.

  “A message? From who?”

  Gunnhilde smiled sweetly now and looked up at him from under long eyelashes. “Why, from the gods, my prince.”

  “You’re really not going to listen to her message?” asked Chief Orm that evening as he, Erik, Maera and Freydis finished the remnants of their dinner.

  Erik shrugged as he set down his empty cup and stretched his long legs out in front of him. “Not tonight,” he said. “I’m tired. She said the gods told her to do a rune reading. That takes time to set up, and she has to prepare herself.” He waved a hand in dismissal. “I don’t have the energy for that today. I spent all day digging graves. I have no heart for fortune-telling right now.”

  Maera breathed a silent sigh of relief as she nibbled on the remnants of a loaf of bread. She had seen too much interest in the prince’s face when Gunnhilde had mentioned knowing his bright future. She didn’t like it. Erik sighed and scratched at the back of his head. “Do you think I could use your private room tonight, Orm?”

  Maera’s pulse jumped at this, though she kept her eyes focused on her nearly empty plate. Beside her, Freydis stood and started collecting their dishes. Chief Orm nodded as his daughter took his plate. “Of course. Feel free.”

  “My thanks.” Erik yawned and stood, leaning backward in a lazy stretch. “Well,” he said, “I think I’m going to head to bed now. Long day ahead of us tomorrow, with the funerals.” He exchanged goodnight pleasantries with everyone before heading to the partition that divided the back room from the rest of the house. He paused there and glanced behind him. “Sigyn? Coming?”