Sigyn's Song

by Meg Trotter

  Maera’s pulse jumped again. She tried to ignore the raised eyebrow that Freydis directed her way. Not knowing what else to do, Maera followed the prince to the back without looking at the others.

  Light was sparse in this small room when the door was closed. Maera stood at the entrance, waiting as Erik pulled off his shirt and tossed it in a corner. He pulled off his hammer pendant and draped it more carefully on a nail beside the bed. He started to reach for the ties of his pants, but paused when he noticed that she hadn’t come further inside the room.

  He smiled gently at her and sat on the bed. “Sorry. Guess I’m rushing things a bit. I wasn’t thinking.” He patted the bed beside him. “Come, let’s talk.” Maera wasn’t sure if the idea of talking was more or less intimidating than the idea of intimacy, however she came to sit beside him anyway

  He leaned back, stretching himself out on his side, and propping up his head on his open palm. His legs were so long that they nearly dangled off the bed. Maera smiled a little at the sight. “I still don’t know much about you,” he said. “Your speech is better now than when we first met. Can you tell me how you came to be on these shores?”

  Maera inwardly cursed herself. She obviously hadn’t learned her lesson from having to make up a name quickly. Now she would have to make up her whole history on the spot as well. She toyed with a stray strand of hair that had fallen out of her braid to give herself time to think. “I ran away,” she said. “My parents .... tried to give me to a man I did not love.”

  “And that was a terrible enough thing to make you run from your family?” His tone was not accusing, but Maera sensed she needed to be careful here.

  She shook her head. With a sigh she climbed further onto the bed and tucked her legs underneath her so she was closer to him. “No. He was not a good man. He was greedy. Selfish. Hateful. He would have made our people suffer.”

  “Your people?” Erik said. “Are your parents rulers?”

  Maera inwardly cursed for inadvertently giving herself more to explain. “Father is chief of a small village,” Maera said quickly. “Not many people to rule over. Even so, I did not want my marriage to bring suffering to them.”

  She tried to organize her next thoughts but was distracted by Erik’s fingertips running over one of her exposed ankles. Even in the darkness of the room, she could tell he had that look again — the one that made her feel like she was the most beautiful being in the world. “Do you plan to return?” he asked quietly.

  Her leg broke out in goosebumps at his touch and she rubbed absently at it while trying to think of how to answer. She finally decided on the truth. Or at least a close echo of the truth. “Yes, I will. I should not have gone. It didn’t help anything in the end.” Her hand bumped into his on her leg and she slid her fingertips over his, smiling a little. “Though it did bring me some good things.”

  Maera thought briefly of Valka and Freydis and her arms linked with theirs while they shopped at Kaupangen, the music drifting up from this little town, the shimmer of the northern lights. She thought of being curled up next to Loki while he told stories, but just as suddenly remembered him slamming the door behind him as he stormed out. Maera closed her eyes in attempt to erase that last memory from her mind.

  The barest brush of something across her lips made Maera’s eyes flutter open in surprise. Erik had leaned forward and given her a gentle kiss. He pulled back, his expression questioning. Maera searched his piercing eyes. He was leaving things up to her, she realized. She appreciated it. It only took a moment’s consideration. If she was going to have to go back home in a few days and live the rest of her life alone in the dark, she was going to make as many good memories now as she could.

  She leaned forward, reclaiming his mouth with hers. When he responded with enthusiasm, she pushed him back onto the bed.

  He asked no more questions that night.

  Chapter 18

  The next morning, Maera woke when Erik planted a kiss on her temple and slipped out, leaving her alone in the chilly room. She lay there a while, considering staying wrapped up in the furs there. However, now that her mind was awake, it would not let her go back to sleep no matter how much she tried. Giving up, she inched to the edge of the bed and fished out her crumpled clothes from the floor.

  While attempting to wiggle back into them while still under the warmth of the furs, she heard voices from the other room. Maera finished dressing and slipped out of bed and through the small door. Taking shelter behind the platform that housed the high seat, Maera listened to the conversation.

  “She is asking for you again,” Chief Orm said. The clank of plates signaled the setting out of breakfast. The scent of baked bread wafted through the air, and Maera nearly gave up her hiding spot to head for it. However, she paused when she heard Erik’s voice.

  “Her fortune-telling can keep for a few more hours,” the prince said. “It would be disrespectful of me to indulge in such nonsense right now. My first duty today is to your village, to help with the funeral rites.”

  Orm grunted. “You’re a good man, Erik. You’ll make a fine king. If anyone in the village doubted it, they won’t be able to dispute it now.” Silence fell between them. Maera started to slip out to join them, but Orm spoke again and she hesitated. “May I make a suggestion?” he asked.

  “Of course,” Erik said. “I value your counsel.”

  “You mentioned when you first arrived that you were in search of a wife.”

  “I did.” Erik’s voice was wary.

  Maera dared to peek around the edge of the high seat. The two men sat together at one platform close to the door. Neither seemed to notice her. Chief Orm shook his head. “I’m not suggesting my daughter again, don’t worry.” He gave a tired smile. “I’ve had discussions with her and she is insistent that she is still in mourning for her lost love. She’ll come around eventually, I’m sure, but I would never suggest you wait on her good graces. You would be waiting a while.” He chuckled, and the sound was filled with affection for his daughter.

  This relaxed Erik’s posture somewhat. He took a swig from his cup. “You have another suggestion?”

  “This Gunnhilde woman-”

  “The witch?” Erik sputtered. He laughed. “Surely you can’t be serious. She was found unconscious on an enemy’s boat and is claiming to be of noble blood.”

  “And that’s worse than a woman who was found washed up naked on our shores?” Orm nodded his head back toward the private quarters, and Maera ducked her head back out of sight in case Erik’s gaze followed the gesture.

  “Sigyn isn’t claiming grand heritages,” Erik muttered.

  “But that’s what you need, isn’t it?” Orm said, “If you want to have a strong rule, you need a wife with the right family connections. Couldn’t get much better than the daughter of Gorm the Old. He controls much of Denmark. And if she can connect you straight to the gods with her prophecies ... well, that’s even better.”

  Erik grunted. Maera wasn’t sure if that was a good sign or not. Having enough with hiding, she strolled out from behind the chair, trying to appear as if she’d just left the private chambers. The men’s talk died out as she entered the main room. She ignored the awkward silence and headed toward the food, plucking up a large chunk of bread. She crossed the floor to Erik and planted a kiss on his temple before sitting down beside him and digging into her breakfast.

  From under lowered eyelashes, Maera saw Orm give the prince a pointed look before turning and busying himself on the other side of the house. Erik slipped a hand onto her knee and gave it a squeeze. However, though he smiled at her, Maera could see the seed of doubt that had been planted in his mind. If she didn’t focus on pulling it out by the root, he would sail off without her, and she would evaporate in a splash of sea foam on the shore.

  Maera spent the rest of the morning following Erik around, offering what help she could to the villagers finishing repairs until they all left their work to head down to the shores to say their goodbye
s to their dead. Late that afternoon, Maera stood by herself off to the side of the group and watched as Erik helped several men load the cloth-wrapped bodies onto the remains of the raider’s charred boat. The raiders’ dead had been disposed of in a mass grave somewhere inland. The three bodies laid out side-by-side on the deck of the boat were men from the village. Two of them had been not much older than Maera, while the third had been Valka’s father.

  Valka stood in the middle of the crowd, sobbing quietly into Skarde’s chest as several villagers pushed the remains of the ship out into the current. Maera’s heart twisted as she watched her friend. She couldn’t imagine losing all of her family and being the only one left. Losing most her family had been hard enough. Losing all of them would be unthinkable.

  As the body-laden boat drifted further out, several men picked up arrows, touched their ends to the nearby torches, and shot them out in a long arc over the water. They hit the wood with soft thunks and soon the fire caught. Maera watched quietly as the fire consumed everything, sending sparks floating up toward the skies. She wondered if that’s where the spirits of these dead men were headed too.

  Someone started singing. It was the same song Maera had heard when she’d seen the northern lights for the first time. Now she was close enough to hear the words.

  Valka’s renewed sobs drew Maera’s attention again. However this time when Maera looked that way, Skarde was staring back at her, something dark in his expression. He pulled Valka protectively up against his chest. Maera broke eye contact and turned her attention back out to sea. She was too tired to be angry at her friend’s lover now.

  After a while, the crowd dispersed to head back to the village. When it looked like Erik would be tied up for a while in conversation with grieving family members, Maera turned toward the village herself. Once inside the gates, she headed for the low wall where she could watch the sheep grazing in the fields while keeping an eye out for Erik’s return.

  The sheep were strange animals, and she hadn’t yet had time to inspect them closely. One wandered close to the wall, and she reached out a hand to run her fingertips over its coat. It was rougher than she expected and matted with dirt.

  “Filthy creatures,” said a voice.

  Maera jerked her head up to see Skarde leaning against the wall a little way away. Valka was nowhere to be seen. The hair on the back of Maera’s neck prickled in warning. She tried to keep her face neutral as she looked back out at the grazing sheep. “They’ll be mine in a few days,” Skarde continued, as if they’d been in a conversation. “Valka will be my wife, and I will inherit this place. Not that I want it. It’s a burned down shack surrounded by stinking sheep.”

  Maera almost pointed out that as a fisherman, Skarde’s own house was filled with stinking fish, but she caught herself before the words slipped out. Instead, she frowned out at the sheep and asked, “Why do you want Valka then?” She ran her fingertips over the animal again and it let out a bleat. “If there is nothing to gain from it?”

  “Why, because I love her, of course,” he said, though when Maera looked at him, he was smirking at her. “Valka said you and Freydis had been telling her to stay away from me,” Skarde continued. “I don’t appreciate that.”

  Maera narrowed her eyes at him. “Valka is special to me, and I don’t like you. I don’t know exactly why, but I don’t.”

  “Well, luckily for you, I’m not marrying you. I’m marrying Valka.” Skarde’s expression was still open and friendly, but something in his voice took on a warning tone. “You also should know that I don’t take kindly to people trying to tell me what I can and cannot have. Just ask Freydis’ fiancé.”

  Before Maera could form a reply, Skarde’s eyes flicked over her shoulder and came back to her face. His expression shifted into something resembling discomfort. “So, I’d be more comfortable if you gave that back,” he said, nodding to the string of beads around Maera’s wrist. “We had a few fun nights together, and now you’re on to your next plaything, but I’m settling down with Valka. It’s a bit awkward for you to still be wearing my old gift, isn’t it?”

  Maera frowned, not following this sudden swerve in subject matter — not until she heard the shuffle of feet behind her. She turned. Erik was there, his own brow furrowed as he looked from her to Skarde and then to the beads. His gaze drifted back up to her face, which she was sure was turning red as she groped for the right words to deny whatever he had heard.

  “I ... we ... we never ...” she stuttered, but she faltered when she saw the prince’s expression close off subtly. She felt sick. She could attempt to deny this all she wanted, but the damage was done. The seed of doubt was sprouting. He didn’t trust her.

  Erik kept his voice polite. “I was going down to meet with Gunnhilde for her rune reading. I thought you might want to join me,” he said stiffly to Maera. “You can meet me at Freydis’ house when you’re done here, if you want.” Without waiting for an answer, he turned and headed down the path toward Freydis’ longhouse.

  Maera watched him go, feeling sicker the further away he got. She whirled on Skarde, who watched her with detached amusement. He took a step toward her, and she flinched when he leaned down a few inches from her face. “You stay out of my relationship, and I’ll stay out of yours,” he whispered.

  When Maera pushed open the door of Freydis’ house, Erik was already seated at a small table with Gunnhilde sitting across from him. Her red hair was washed and plated into an intricate braid that hung prettily over one shoulder. She wore one of Valka’s old dresses, and it hung flatteringly over her curves. She held a large wooden bowl. As Maera approached, she saw that inside were small smooth stones, each engraved with a different mark. They were the symbols carved into the large rocks that she’d seen when she first arrived, Maera realized. Words on stone.

  When Maera met Erik’s eyes questioningly he regarded her in silence a moment before nodding to the stool beside him. She crept to his side and sat down.

  “May the gods pour out their favor on you,” Gunnhilde breathed. She tipped the bowl, and the rocks clattered onto the table into a messy pile. One slid toward Maera so fast that she had to hold out a hand to stop it from sliding right off the table and into her lap. She eyed the stones, but without being able to run her fingers over the markings, she couldn’t decipher what they said. She looked over at Erik who was scanning them himself. They didn’t seem to make much sense to him either, since he looked over at Gunnhilde in question. The witch studied the stones, making noises every so often. She smiled when she raised her gaze to Erik’s face. “Ah, sire, the gods are good.”

  “What does it say?” Erik leaned forward, interested.

  “Of your past, it says the gods have continued to test you and find you worthy.” She poked at a pair of stones that rested on top of each other. “As a mere child, you and your mother survived an assassination attempt.”

  “That is common knowledge,” Erik said, his expression a little less eager than before.

  Gunnhilde nodded, looking unbothered. She gestured at another pair of stones. “As a young man, when you fought in your first battle, you saw much death. Men dropped around you, but Odin saw your might and gave you his favor. This continued for many battles.”

  “Again, common knowledge, my lady,” Erik said, sitting back, disappointed. Maera stifled a smile as he continued. “If the gods have no more than this to-”

  “Odin saw when you secured your way to your father’s favor,” Gunnhilde interrupted, pointing at a trio of stones. “A half-brother with better claim to the throne, mysteriously dead. Typically Odin would punish the transgression of kin-slaying, but-”

  Erik’s stool clattered backward as he stood abruptly. His face was as hard as Maera had ever seen it. “Now that,” he said, his voice dangerously low, “is vicious rumor. The gods know it to be false. For you to say otherwise could be counted treason.”

  Gunnhilde smiled at him, unafraid. After a stretch of silence, she shrugged. “Odin forgives. H
e knows what you will do for his people will far surpass anything your half-brother could have done. Under him, the people would have suffered and died. Under you, they will know prosperity.”

  Silence fell. Maera expected Erik to scatter the rocks, flip the table, or at least curse the witch for not retracting her statement. The air flickered with tension. Erik crossed his arms over his chest. “What else do you see?” he asked.

  Maera’s stomach clinched. She looked up at the prince. His body was rigid. His face was blank. But even so, in his energy Maera could sense the hint of guilt, like a drop of blood in the water. She blinked at him.

  He’d done it. He’d murdered his brother to ensure he would be next in line to be king. Maera tried to imagine if anything could compel her to take her own sister’s life, but even the act of considering it made her queasy. She swallowed hard.

  “The gods cleansed you with water, less than a month ago. You died and were reborn from the sea. Odin himself commanded it be so.” Gunnhilde looked up, locking eyes with Maera for a moment. A flicker of a smirk showed across the witch’s face before she reached over and touched the stone that had slid across to Maera. The marking was composed of a straight line with one long diagonal one shooting off the bottom and a second smaller diagonal line above the first. “But, the method of your rescue could also be your downfall. Trouble lurks here.”

  “The symbol for Loki,” Erik muttered.

  Maera let out a choked laugh. The prince’s gaze snapped to her, wary. Gunnhilde’s calm smile never faltered as she gazed down at the runes. “There are secrets here. Lies.” She paused and her eyes flicked up to Maera’s. Her smirk appeared in full force. “Hidden love.”

  A flare of anger pushed Maera to her feet. She snatched the Loki stone from the table and reared back to throw it at the other woman. Erik caught her wrist. When Maera came to herself enough to look back at him, she knew she was losing him. She could feel his affections ebbing away from her like an outgoing tide.