by A. E. Rayne
Eirik’s words landed a hefty blow to the tiny remnants of Eadmund’s pride and he couldn’t speak, couldn’t look at his father. This was something Eirik had been threatening for the last few years, but he hadn’t been prepared for the way it would make him feel. Eadmund was a reasonable man; he could see the merits of his father’s argument and hear the passion in his words, but still, it was he who would have to marry. Her.
‘I’m not ready.’
Eirik scoffed unsympathetically at that. ‘Of course you are! It’s been seven years! That’s more than enough time for anyone to grieve. You are ready, my son. You have no choice but to be ready. I am giving you no choice!’
Eadmund tried to think, but his head was a jumble of half-formed words, none of which made sense. He had not seen his father this angry for a long time; his jaw was set firmly, his eyes burned with a furious passion. ‘But Jael Furyck? She must be as old as me. Couldn’t you have found someone younger, someone... womanly...’ he paused. ‘Someone less likely to kill me?’
Eirik laughed at that, and the tension between them eased slightly. ‘She may be old and more of a man than a woman, but she has exactly what we need,’ Eirik said confidently.
‘And what is that? An extra cock?’
Eirik rolled his eyes. ‘The Furycks have the oldest line of all the kingdoms. They are the royal family of Osterland. Bringing her into our family will give our name the respect it needs. Uniting our line with Brekka’s will ensure that my legacy has a future, that you will rule as a legitimate king... besides, it was your sister’s idea.’
‘Eydis? Eydis told you I should marry her?’ Eadmund was stunned. His sister was only 12-years-old and blind, but she had been having visions of the future for the past few years. Her mother had been a Tuuran dreamer, and Eirik already relied heavily on her guidance.
‘Yes. She insisted that Jael would save you, save our people,’ Eirik said thoughtfully. ‘It surprised me too, but I believe her. So, if she is meant to save you, then I doubt she will end up killing you. I could be wrong, of course. She won’t be happy being forced into a marriage, especially one with you. You are not the prize you once were, my son,’ he smiled wryly, his eyes wandering over Eadmund’s ever-expanding girth, so far removed from the lean warrior he had once been. ‘I imagine you will have a hard time keeping her sword out of your marriage bed!’
Eadmund looked morosely at his grinning father. The weight of Eirik’s words, the ruthless look in his eye, and the swirling clouds overhead, all conspired to spin his head with thoughts of marriage and wives, both old and new. Turning urgently away from his father, he bent towards the stones and vomited.
Evaine Gallas swung around in a fit of madness and raced at her father. ‘No! No! No!’ she screamed, pounding her small hands into his hollow chest. ‘This cannot happen! You cannot let this happen, Father! Eadmund is mine! He is supposed to marry me! You are supposed to have been arranging our marriage, not helping Eirik marry him to... to... that Brekkan bitch. How could you let this happen?’
‘Keep your voice down, child,’ Morac hissed, but Evaine was just getting started. Looking frantically around their lavish house, she grabbed a nearby storage pot and threw it violently onto the wooden floorboards, smashing it to pieces. Her mother, Runa, who had been sitting on a bed in the corner of the room, jumped in fright. She was desperate to leave; Evaine in this sort of mood was to be avoided at all costs.
‘Evaine!’ Morac growled, grabbing her arm with his long, thin fingers, demanding her attention. ‘Evaine, this will not help things. If Eirik hears –’
‘If Eirik hears?!’ she screeched. ‘Then what? He will send me away? What difference will that make, since he is marrying Eadmund to someone else? Someone who isn’t me!’
Her small, lithe body shook with a fury that was at odds with her ethereal appearance. She was usually a vision of breathtaking loveliness but not today. Her long, golden hair whipped fiercely around her face, and her light-blue eyes darted about maniacally. Even the smattering of freckles across her tiny nose glowed red with anger.
Evaine inhaled sharply, trying to still her trembling body. Despite the heat of her temper, she could hear the sense in her father’s words. Eadmund wasn’t married yet; there would still be time to change the outcome, as long as she didn’t cause Eirik a problem. Her fury cooled slightly, simmering now at a steady heat, her mind flitting desperately from thought to thought. What could she do to stop this happening?
‘A marriage between you and Eadmund made no sense to Eirik. I told you that,’ her father said delicately, dropping his daughter’s arm but watching her cautiously. She seemed to have calmed down, but still, with Evaine, it was best to stay alert. ‘To marry a slave’s son to a slave’s daughter does little to legitimise his rule. He doesn’t want you to mother his heirs. He was never going to agree to a marriage between you and Eadmund.’
‘But what does Eadmund want?’ she scowled. ‘He won’t want to marry her, not when he loves me!’
Morac frowned. His daughter had certainly obsessed over Eadmund since she was a child, but as to Eadmund’s feelings for her? Morac had always doubted they ran that deep.
‘He loves me, Father. He loves me!’ she insisted. ‘You’ll see. He will fight Eirik. He will not allow this to happen.’ She frantically smoothed down the front of her blue, woollen dress, blinking at her father. ‘You’ll see, Eadmund will not leave me. He will fight for me, Father, I am sure of it. We will find a way, together, to change Eirik’s mind.’
‘Alright, alright,’ Morac whispered soothingly as he took Evaine’s shaking hands, leading her towards her bed.
Evaine sat down, her mind humming with panic. She would not lose Eadmund; she would do anything to stop that from happening.
By mid-morning Eadmund was almost feeling only terrible as he trudged slowly through the fort on his way to the hall. He had been left in a confused daze by his father’s news and the dense fog creeping around his head wasn’t helping that sensation clear. He didn’t know what was more shocking: a prospective new wife, or Jael Furyck as his wife? Could there not have been another option?
It was a bitter day, but he had started to perspire heavily; his round cheeks were bright pink, his armpits, a cold, damp cave of anxiety. He screwed up his usually cheerful face in annoyance, pawing at his unkempt, sandy hair, which kept sticking to his forehead. ‘Ahhh, there you are, Little Thing!’ he smiled triumphantly, as Eydis crossed his path. ‘A word with you, I think.’ He grabbed her hand and pulled her gently along with him, slipping down a narrow alleyway, searching for a private place to speak.
Eydis smiled happily as she hurried after him. She was small for her age, with long raven hair and eyes that, if not for their milky blindness, would have sparkled clear, icy blue. Eadmund was her favourite person in all of Oss and she relished any time she got to spend with him. He was usually not awake until much later in the day, though, so Eydis knew very well what he wanted her for.
After much winding and creeping about, Eadmund found his friend Thorgils’ cottage, and, checking that no one was inside, he guided his sister through the door. Thorgils shared the house with his mother, Odda, a frightening shrew, whom Eadmund was eager to avoid. He took the risk that they would be in and out before she returned.
The room was dark, its smoke hole providing only a hint of morning gloom to see by. Eadmund resisted the urge to light a candle, though; it would mean nothing to Eydis, and he welcomed the cool darkness.
‘I know what this is about,’ Eydis giggled nervously, making herself comfortable on the creaking stool Eadmund had led her to. ‘Jael.’
‘Yes... her,’ Eadmund muttered, twitching with irritation. ‘Why her? If you’re going to tell Father that I need a wife, couldn’t you have come up with a better choice? Evaine, for one.’
Eydis stilled at that, her sweet, round face, suddenly serious. ‘Not Evaine. You don’t love her.’
‘Well, I certainly don’t love Jael Furyck, and at least Eva
ine is a woman!’ Eadmund huffed, peering around the room, wondering if Odda had any ale he could help himself to.
Eydis could sense Eadmund’s anxiety as he wobbled about on his stool. Her blindness intensified her other senses, and every part of her could feel the emotions twisting and turning in her brother. ‘She will save you, Eadmund,’ she insisted quietly, leaning forward, wishing she could see his face. Eydis had been blind since birth; the only pictures she saw were in her vivid dreams.
‘Ahhh yes, so I hear,’ he frowned. ‘But what does your 12-year-old-self think I need saving from?’
‘You, of course. You are unhappy, and lost, and lonely –’
‘I am not unhappy!’ Eadmund interrupted. ‘I have Evaine. I’m not unhappy, Eydis. I have good friends. I have fun...’
‘Drinking.’ She glared sternly, disapprovingly, towards him now. ‘That is not what you would be doing if you were happy. None of that makes you happy, Eadmund. You are sad. Sad because of losing Melaena but she would want you to live. She wouldn’t want you to be like this.’
Eadmund’s face dropped, and his shoulders sagged, heavy with the weight of his memories. He felt sick, and tired, and old. He had only just reached 30 years, but he had given up on himself entirely when Melaena died. He had been happy with her, excited for the future, but it was so long ago; he couldn’t even remember the shadow of that life now. His body had turned to unused fat and plenty of it. His once handsome face had rounded so much with drink and nothingness that it was just a bloated, shapeless mass. He felt ill most of the time, had not carried a sword for years, and could only look on, in embarrassment, when his friends left the island in their battle gear, prepared to fight.
He had loved Melaena so deeply. The scars left by her death might have healed over, but the wounds they marked still felt raw and painful to him. They had been married for only one day and then she had been taken from him. The pain had carried him into complete darkness, and he was still lost there, seven years later. He knew Eirik and Eydis were right; he was an embarrassment of a man, his was a waste of a life, and he was most certainly a disappointment, but that was his choice, surely? He didn’t have to marry Jael; he could choose another way.
‘You could run away, of course,’ Eydis whispered, jolting him out of his mournful memories. ‘But you would only be running away from a chance at happiness. If you don’t want to live, Eadmund, you may as well just give up and die.’
Those were harsh words coming from a child, and they cut Eadmund deeply. And... could she read minds now?
The room was silent as they sat, keeping company with their own thoughts. The sounds of the fort came stealing in from outside; arguing in the street, low, murmuring clucks from Odda’s coop, hammering from the smithy. The rich smell of meat, cooking in the Main Square, wafted down the smoke hole, stirring Eadmund’s empty stomach. He sighed. ‘You are 12, Eydis. You cannot know what it feels like, felt like, to lose her.’
Eydis looked cross. ‘I am 13, Eadmund!’
‘You are? Really?’ He was genuinely shocked. ‘I’m sure you’re only 12. I don’t remember your birthday at all. Did I give you a gift?’
‘No,’ she said sadly. ‘You didn’t remember.’
Enough light had seeped into the room now for Eadmund to see the genuine disappointment etched onto her small face. ‘Oh, well then, I am a shit, a useless turd of a brother, aren’t I?’
‘No!’ Her eyes were bright again. ‘You are everything to me, Eadmund. You are so good and such a kind man, but you just need to start living again. Then you would feel things, and maybe even remember my birthday sometimes.’
‘Well, I think you’re asking a lot there,’ he grinned, all the weariness vanishing beneath an easy smile, his soft, hazel eyes mischievous for a moment. ‘Happiness won’t necessarily cure my troublesome memory.’
‘No, but it will stop you drinking yourself to sleep every day,’ she insisted. ‘You must give Jael a chance. There is hope in her. I see it in my dreams so clearly.’
Eadmund didn’t know what to make of that but heavy footsteps outside had him stumbling hastily off his stool. ‘We should go! I don’t want to bump into Odda. That would really make me want a drink!’ He grabbed Eydis’ hand, and they hurried outside, just in time to thump straight into Thorgils, who was standing outside his front door, wondering who was lurking inside.
‘What?!’ Thorgils exclaimed as Eadmund crashed into his chest; then, seeing it was his friend and not a random thief, he smiled. ‘Are you lost?’
Thorgils Svanter was a red-headed giant of a man who towered over most people on Oss. Big-hearted and fiercely loyal, he had been Eadmund’s best friend since they were wrapped in swaddling cloths. His mother, Odda, had been Eadmund’s first nursemaid, which was why he was so terrified of her. She had frightened Eadmund since birth, and he’d been relieved when his mother had put her aside for a woman with a gentler hand and a softer tongue.
‘Ahhh, no,’ Eadmund murmured awkwardly. ‘No, we were just looking for somewhere private to speak.’
‘We?’ Thorgils raised a suggestive eyebrow, then smiled as he saw Eydis pop her head around Eadmund’s waist. ‘Ahhh, now I understand. I just heard the news from Morac. I’m not surprised you tackled that one there.’ He bowed playfully in her direction. ‘Miss Eydis.’
Eydis slipped back behind Eadmund, who kept a firm grip on her hand. She was painfully shy and barely spoke to anyone, apart from Eadmund and their father. Even though Thorgils was like a brother to her, she still felt awkward around him.
Thorgils joined them as they walked back to the hall, where Eadmund planned to deposit his sister. She could get about ably enough by herself, despite her blindness, but he was overprotective and wanted to ensure she was safely returned to their father. He needed to go somewhere to think, alone. He was already visualising his first drink of the day, desperate to take the edge off all this talk of marriage and his many failings as a man.
‘So, have you heard Evaine sobbing, then?’ Thorgils mocked as they ambled down the narrow, wooden sidewalk that wound its way around the tightly packed houses inside the fort. ‘I imagine she’s crying and raging somewhere nearby.’
‘You think she knows?’ Eadmund wondered, his eyes darting about anxiously. The thought of having to face Evaine did not improve his mood at all.
‘Morac would have told her, for sure,’ Thorgils said. ‘I imagine he helped bring about the alliance with Lothar. You know how Morac is, always putting himself in a position to be gilded by Eirik... the arse-licking ballsack that he is.’
Having escaped the maze of streets, they emerged into the large Main Square. Oss’ weather had been gloomy and wet for weeks. The Freeze loomed and the ground alternated between hazardously frozen and unpleasantly boggy; today was a combination of both. There had been a slight frost in the night, following a week of near constant rain, so avoiding the various muddy sinkholes and icy patches kept the people of Oss on their toes.
The hall stood astride the square. It had been Eirik’s ongoing project for over 40 years now, and despite various improvements and additions, it was nowhere near as impressive as Brekka’s King’s Hall, and that rankled. More square than long, it was a tall, wooden structure, topped with a high, curved roof, made to look like an upturned boat, with two ornately worked dragons fighting at its peak. Its towering doors were carved with interlacing motifs of the sea: waves, whales, and monsters, all flowing together in an endless cycle of life and gruesome death.
Eadmund’s attention was diverted instantly by the smoky smells from Ketil’s outdoor fire pit. It was the most popular spot in the square, especially on the coldest of days, when frozen hands and aching bellies sought salvation in the hot and spicy food that Ketil and his sister offered daily.
‘Would you like something to eat, Eydis?’ he asked, smiling at Ketil’s cheerful sister, Una, as he rummaged hopefully inside the empty pouch attached to his belt.
‘Yes, please,’ she answered eagerly, producin
g three silver coins from her small, embroidered purse. ‘Here. One for each of us.’
Thorgils’ stomach growled gratefully and Eadmund grinned, ordering three servings of pork, wrapped in warm flatbreads. The charred meat was hot and juicy, soft and moist, and the hungry trio sat down at an empty table to devour it immediately.
‘So, what will you do with Evaine?’ Thorgils wondered, pausing between mouthfuls to blow on his steaming meat.
‘Do?’ Eadmund mumbled, his mouth full. ‘Nothing that I can think of,’ he smiled cheekily, then quickly looked around. ‘She’s not the problem. It’s Jael Furyck I need to be worried about.’ He frowned. ‘Can you imagine having her as a wife?’
‘She will slice up your balls and serve them to you for breakfast, for sure,’ Thorgils laughed, then, looking at Eydis, he paused, reminding himself that although she couldn’t see, her hearing worked perfectly well. ‘Although you never know, perhaps she will surprise you and be as gentle as sweet Eydis here?’
Eydis rolled her milky eyes at that and Eadmund scoffed loudly. ‘Ha! Not likely. Have you ever seen the she-beast?’
‘Of course, you fool!’ Thorgils snorted, gulping down the remains of his meat and wiping one hand through his long, red beard. ‘I was with you at the Battle of Ligga, when she almost killed you. I saved your life, don’t you remember? What was that, eight years ago? One of the countless times I saved your life back then.’
Eadmund laughed. ‘Saved my life? I may be a drunkard, but I do remember very clearly that you were the one who needed saving from her that day, my friend. You were one stroke away from being a one-armed man, as I recall, until I arrived and cut her down.’
Thorgils shook that away. ‘My deluded friend! I like your story very much. You cut her down? Ha! Perhaps we should ask Jael what she remembers when she arrives? Your father said this wedding would happen quickly, before the Freeze. Maybe next week?’