God's Eye (The Northwomen Sagas #1)

by Susan Fanetti

  So much space, so many riches, and the people who lived outside the castle had less than the poorest farmer at home. Less even than some slaves. Olga had explained that the prince had taken all of their harvest and rationed back to them food they themselves had grown. Their rations had been meager. Each year, while they’d merely subsisted, they had watched carts full of crops rolling away from them, toward the nearest town, to be sold and enrich the prince.

  After the ships had left, laden with gold and silver and jewels, Leif and Brenna and the others had set back the stores they would need for the winter and then opened the bounty that remained to the villagers. That decision had turned the tide of sentiment toward the raiders, who could now roam the nearby countryside and be greeted with waves and nods.

  They were under no delusion that their settlement would remain peaceful forever, of course. Prince Vladimir surely had allies, and they would answer his death and try to reclaim his lands. But they had not yet, and, as she stepped out into the night and her breath plumed up in a thick puff of white, Brenna guessed it would be a long while before any foe took up a siege.

  Orm and Knut had watch. They sat at the fire in the middle of the grounds, relaxed and talking amiably. Both looked up when she came out of the castle, and both returned her nod, but neither invited her to join them. Just as well—she wouldn’t have known how to have a casual conversation. Aside from her parents, the only person she’d ever spoken to about anything other than plans, strategy, and tactics was Vali.

  Vali. He’d been on his feet for almost two weeks, and he was almost as strong again as she’d ever seen him. He was a marvel of a man. Four days after he’d taken what should have been a mortal wound, three days after an infection had laid him lower, he’d mounted a horse and ridden for hours. The ride had nearly killed him again—and then mere days later he’d been back on his feet. For the past week, he’d been on full duty.

  Brenna had been more comfortable with him when he was abed and she could leave him behind when she felt awkward or strange around him. He said he was open to her, but still she didn’t understand him. He said he wanted to be with her, but why? To what end? She had spent a good portion of the days since he’d been out of bed devising reasons not to be around him.

  But she felt lonely when she wasn’t around him. She liked him very much. More than that, she admired him. He was strong of body and mind. He was forthright. He was goodhearted. The reason he had been so badly wounded was that, in the heat of battle, he’d taken the time to put a horse out of its misery. And he seemed to sincerely like her. Her. Brenna. He looked her in her eyes and held there. He didn’t call her ‘God’s-Eye.’ He talked to her.

  He tried, at least. She struggled to know what to say and had never been able to offer him more than the most perfunctory answer to a question he’d asked, and she didn’t know what things to ask of him. Conversation was simply beyond her. If there was a muscle somewhere in her that had to be flexed in order to chat with another person, that muscle had atrophied long ago.

  They would both be better off if she continued to avoid him.

  After taking her fill of the night air and sky, she crossed to the stables and went in. Here, she felt more at home; the smells of straw and wood and animal were familiar. The rustling sounds of the sleeping horses gave her calm. The calm brought a pleasant sleepiness that eluded her in the castle.

  Not all of the horses were sleeping, she saw. The big golden head and rich creamy mane of the mare she’d taken for her own dropped over a stall door. She turned in Brenna’s direction and nickered softly. Perhaps she had grown accustomed to these late-night visits.

  “Freya. No rest for you, either?” Brenna went to her and rubbed her soft nose. Freya pushed past the caress and nosed at Brenna’s furs. “Forgive me, love. I have no sweets for you tonight.”

  The mare huffed as if she understood and was disappointed. Estlander horses were similar to the horses of home—massive, densely-furred beasts with broad chests, thick legs and wide hooves. This was the most beautiful of any horse she’d ever seen, with a coat so golden it seemed to glow and a mane so pure and creamy one might think it would taste sweet. Brenna supposed she was as much a slave to beauty as any other, because she’d seen the mare and fallen in love straightaway.

  Perhaps that had something to do with why she could not dig Vali out of her head. He was not beautiful; that was the wrong word. Perhaps he wasn’t even handsome. His features seemed too rough for that word as well. But he was…compelling. His huge, heavily muscled body. His straight nose and heavy brow, like his face had been carved from stone. His rich, dark beard. His serious blue eyes.

  At night, while she fought to find rest in her luxurious stone cell, her mind would conjure him and make her all the more restless.

  Freya had dropped off to sleep with her nose snug between Brenna’s arm and side. Brenna leaned her head against the mare’s face, feeling sleep finally move over her as well. She opened the stall and stepped in, making Freya chuff a protest as she backed her up.

  In the stall, she went to the far corner and settled herself into the fragrant straw, wrapping her furs around her. Freya came over and nudged her gently, and Brenna rubbed her nose again.

  Then they both slept.

  ~oOo~

  The next morning, Brenna, Leif, and Vali sat in the hall with any of the other raiders who were free and inclined to be part of the discussion. Not everyone was interested in planning. Many preferred to live and work and be pointed in the proper direction when it was time to fight. Thus, of twenty-nine raiders who’d stayed behind and survived, thirteen were assembled around the heavy table that had, the first time they’d seen it, held the heads of their young scouts.

  Even weeks after that day, Leif always scowled when he looked down at the dark wood.

  Olga, their former captive and now in charge of the servants who’d stayed, sat across from Leif. Next to her was Jaan, a young farmer from the village. Everyone had focused intently on the end of the table, where Tord, Sigvalde, and Viger were giving their report of what they’d found in the world beyond. Despite the fate of Einar and Halvar, they had had no choice but to send scouts out again. They needed to know exactly how far away trouble might be. If such could be known at all.

  They already knew that the central town in this region was a day’s journey by horse and cart. They also knew that that town and its market hosted the people and trade of two other princedoms. That much, Olga and other villagers, with Olga’s interpreting help, had been able to tell them, as well as the names of these other royals: Ivan and Toomas. What none of the peasants seemed to know, however, was exactly where these princes dwelt and what threat they might be. The scouts had ridden out to learn.

  “The farthest is a hard day’s ride northeast,” Viger offered. “A blue flag with a white beast flies.”

  Olga spoke in her native tongue to Jaan, who nodded and turned to Leif. “Toomas.” He brought up his fists in a pantomime of fighting. “He…” he turned to Olga and spoke; then Olga turned to Leif.

  “Toomas make much war here. Jaan say in town men know to be…apart them?” She held up her arms and widened the distance between her hands. The men here knew to avoid Toomas’s men.

  “He was an enemy of Vladimir?” Brenna asked. Jaan’s head jerked in her direction. The men of Estland did not expect women to do anything that Brenna or Astrid did. After weeks here, the villagers were still more shocked by women who wore breeches and bore arms than any of them seemed to be about Brenna’s strange eye.

  After that moment of shock, as Olga nodded and spoke a word, Jaan nodded, too, and answered Brenna with his eyes on Leif. “Yes. No…friend here.”

  “That is not encouraging,” Vali said. “He wants this holding and is likely to be prepared for war already, then.”

  Sigvalde answered him. “The castle was quiet. There was no war in the air there—but there was light snowfall already. If they plan to strike, we do not think it will be until summe
r.”

  Leif stroked his beard. “And the other? Ivan?”

  “Due south,” Sigvalde responded. “The holding is small and poor. We could advance on it and take it, too. This Toomas is the threat.”

  “Please,” Olga interjected, and the others gave her their attention. She might have been their slave for a brief time, but she had become integral to their peaceful settlement here. Although Leif was attempting to learn the Estland tongue, no one else had yet tried, and they relied heavily on Olga to bridge the gap between them and her people. Realizing how much trust they’d already given her, upon her agreement to stay and assist them, they’d made her free just more than a week after they’d moved to the castle.

  She was the only of the raid’s captives at camp who’d remained alive. Calder had ordered all of the others killed before he’d set sail. He would have had Olga killed, too, but that Leif had asserted their need of her.

  With everyone’s attention on her, Olga met Leif’s eyes. “Will you make war south?”

  Leif glanced around the table, then shook his head. “No. I believe Sigvalde meant that Prince Ivan is no threat to us, not that we should raid his lands. We respect the winter, and our task is to strengthen this holding for our people.”

  Olga’s smile at that was so full of relief that Brenna cocked her head, curious.

  “Our plan remains the same, then,” Vali said. “Use the winter to prepare for trouble. We should stay alert, but perhaps we can enjoy some peace.” With those words he brought his eyes to Brenna and smiled.

  He always looked her in the eyes. It made her feel restless and hot. She wasn’t so naïve that she didn’t know why her body felt as it did, or why her mind brought him to the fore in such vivid detail when she was alone. But she didn’t understand why she was drawn to him. She didn’t understand what it would mean if she gave in to those feelings, if she gave him what he seemed to want, what she seemed to want. She didn’t understand why he wanted it. Wanted her. She didn’t understand how to be wanted. She hated not understanding.

  So she got up and left the table. If they could enjoy some peace, then she would do so. She would ride—away from the cold stone castle and away from Vali and things she didn’t understand.

  ~oOo~

  It was the first time she’d ridden off alone here. They had agreed to stay in pairs when they left the castle grounds until they understood the extent of any threat against them. Now they had the knowledge they’d needed. They were safe. So she could finally get away and be alone out of doors.

  Since Jarl Åke had freed her and she had become a shieldmaiden, Brenna had always left Geitland for the winter. The close crush of people there during the dead months had made her feel more of an outsider. So she had spent her winters in a small hut in the woods, not too far from her jarl, but far enough to be spared so many people, all of whom dropped their eyes or flinched back when she approached.

  She had never gone back home. Geitland was far from Halsgrof, but she had the resources, should she have desired to make the journey. She had not.

  She missed home. Always. Never again in her life had she truly had a home. But she had gotten word of her father’s death the year after she’d left. Only her mother was alive, the mother who had wanted to make her even more of an outcast than she was. The mother who had feared so much to lose her last child that she had forced that child to run. The competing emotions of shame and anger had kept Brenna far away.

  Riding out now, alone, focused only on her thoughts and the world around her, Brenna felt the pull of homesickness more strongly than she had in years. This world, this tiny farming village, was the world of her childhood. The sights and smells and sounds were familiar and beloved.

  She sat astride Freya at the top of a gentle rise and scanned the huts and reaped fields of the village. She could smell the wood smoke that wafted from chimneys and the aromas of meals being prepared in those fires. The people here had plenty for the first time in ages, because the raiders had opened the stores.

  There was food left at the castle, beyond what Brenna’s people had held back for themselves. No one had taken more than they’d needed. They had been orderly, even shy. A few had come back, asking for a bit more. None had been denied. In this way, they had made the villagers allies, even though the story of their brutal sacking of the coastal village was well known here.

  Nudging Freya forward, Brenna moved through the village, nodding at those who were outside at their work. She had come out to find peace, but instead, she’d found an ache she’d thought had been healed. So she urged Freya into a trot and rode on, headed to the river.

  Here, far upstream from their camp, the river was wider and deeper, its current steady and smooth. She dismounted and turned Freya loose to graze at what was left of the grasses, and she sat under a tree on the bank. Its leaves had turned a rich, fiery red and fluttered steadily to the ground with every breeze.

  Alone was something Brenna understood. Her parents had loved her, and she’d been happy in their home, but she had known of her difference from a young age, and she had felt her otherness keenly since. As she’d grown, as she’d begun to understand why people kept apart from her, she’d only felt it more keenly. Eventually, she had embraced it, deciding that she preferred her own company to any other. She had learned how to use others’ fear or awe to her advantage. She held solitude before her like a shield.

  Here in Estland, that was changing, and she didn’t understand why. She felt lonely now. Vali was part of it, she knew that much. He had stoked a fire in her that she’d smothered long ago. But he wasn’t all of it. It was this place, too. These people. So much like home and so different, as well.

  The Estlanders noticed her strange eye but didn’t fear it. There was nothing in their traditions, she guessed, that made her especially remarkable. When they wouldn’t meet her eyes, it was simple respect, not reverence. They didn’t meet Leif’s eyes, or Vali’s, either. Unless they had been addressed directly.

  Oddly, these people’s lack of fear made Brenna feel more lost. Her own people, for her whole life, had treated her like something beyond human, to be feared or to be revered, but not to be known. Only to these people, these strangers, was she just a woman. Powerful, but human.

  She’d been wrong. It couldn’t be homesickness she felt.

  She had no home at all.

  When Brenna had been gone long enough that the sun had moved into the western sky, Vali couldn’t hold back any longer. He hadn’t liked her riding off alone, no matter if the castle was free from threat for the time being, and no matter that she was a famed shieldmaiden and the God’s-Eye.

  She was a woman, and here, in this place, she was only that. These people did not feel the reverence for her that kept her free from trouble at home. They did not know the stories here. And if she’d ridden out farther than the village, then she was only a woman alone.

  He prepared his horse and rode out after her. With no true sense of where she might have been headed, he followed a hunch. He had noticed in her an especial affinity for the water, greater even than most coast-dwelling seafarers, such as they were. She would grow still, for just a moment, even at a water barrel. So he set out for the river beyond the village.

  Although she’d been with him for long stretches of each day that he’d been trapped in bed, as soon as he was on his feet, she’d made it her daily mission to find somewhere to be that was away from him. It had been days since they’d been alone together.

  He was vexed beyond measure. While she’d sat at his sick bed, he’d gotten her to talk a bit. Nothing he’d learned about her had abated his fascination. Quite the opposite. In fact, it was wrong to think of what he felt as fascination. The pull he felt toward her came from a deeper place than that.

  She’d spoken about her time in Geitland, and with every sliver of information she’d shared, the legend of the God’s-Eye reconciled more with the truth of Brenna, the woman. He knew that she felt much like he did when she fought: like s
he was swallowed up by something bigger than herself. He knew her versions of battles she’d fought. And he knew her version of how she’d been made free, the night that raiders had beset the town and she, a slave girl tasked with care of the jarl’s children, had saved them and their mother.

  Vali thought of it as ‘her version’ rather than the truth, because he suspected that, as the legend had embellished the stories, she had dimmed them overmuch. The truth lay in the dark space between. Brenna was a bold and brave warrior, and he’d come to know her as an intelligent and thoughtful strategist, and as a compassionate person. But as a woman, she was shy and self-effacing.

  What she wouldn’t talk about was her family or how she’d become a slave. The stories said that she had given herself over to slavery, and she had confirmed that much. Beyond that, she had only offered stony silence.

  He knew that that was at the core of her avoidance of him now. They had, in her mind, exhausted the story she had of her life with Jarl Åke. He had pushed too hard to know about the child he’d once met, and now she was running from him again.