Eirik: A Time Travel Romance (Mists of Albion Book 1)

by Joanna Bell

  I nod, prickling with annoyance at Hildy's tone of voice, the way she speaks to people like they are small children. "Yes," I reply shortly. "I understand that."

  "Good. So you understand why we discuss your moonblood then. Do you? I see from that cow-like expression on your face that you do not. They watch your moon cycles for signs, girl. And your breasts – look at the way the tunic pulls tight over them, even now. Your belly won't be flat for long!"

  'Cow-like?' Jesus. I stumble backwards a little and catch myself on the edge of the grain-house we stand beside. I don't know why I'm so affected by an insult, it's not like Hildy ever sees fit to hold back. Cow-like. Damn. But she said something else, too. I look at her in the darkness, and the whites of her eyes glow under the moon as it peeps out from behind a cloud. "What?" I say, breathless. "What did you call me? What did you, uh, say?"

  She smiles then, and shrugs. "You're a trial, girl, but sweet in your way. Perhaps I can see some of what he sees in you. But you stumble against the grain-house like this comes as a big surprise! Have you not been in his bed for many a night now? Maybe I soften to you because I love our Jarl, and because I know what happiness this news will bring him – especially now, after we have sent Asgald to the Great Hall and the men hang their heads low."

  Happiness? What is Hildy talking about? Why is my heart pounding out of my chest? A surprise? My belly. My belly won't be flat for long. My belly won't be flat for long?

  My hands find their way to my midsection and my jaw falls open in disbelief. The sound of Hildy's laughter rings through the night. "It's your first, girl. I understand. Even as we know how a baby finds its way into our bellies, the first is always a shock. Gudry and Anja must be told of this – I'll fetch them now."

  "No," I whisper, taking Hildy by the sleeve of her tunic. "No. Wait. Wait!"

  She turns back to me, just for a second, and caresses the flat expanse of my belly. "Smile, girl. Motherhood will be good for you."

  And then she's marching officiously off, already calling for Gudry and Anja, and I'm half-collapsed against the side of the grain-house as the fog of my short, panicked breaths dissipates into the night.

  Motherhood.

  Motherhood?!

  But Hildy's right, even as it all seems too far-fetched to consider. What did I think was going to happen? I knew it was a possibility. I look up at the moon as the clouds race across its face, and I have to admit to myself that I more than knew it was a possibility – I actively hoped for it, in that bone-deep part of my soul that has nothing to do with reason or rational thought. Did I? Yes, I did. And now my shock might have more to do with not daring to believe it rather than any real confusion about how it happened.

  I don't know how long I stay there. Long enough to start shivering. Gudry and Anja find me there, my teeth chattering against each other, and erupt with tender concern, tearing their own thin leather wraps from around their shoulders and throwing them over me.

  "Why are you out here?" Anja demands as they lead me to the roundhouse where I am routinely tended to. "You're frozen! Paige! It's time for you to be careful with yourself now, do you understand?"

  I'm so cold, when they get me undressed, that just dipping a toe into the hot bathwater causes a pins-and-needles-like explosion in my foot and I jump back, yelling.

  "OW!"

  "Forgive me," Anja whispers softly. "You need to warm up first."

  They dip their fingers into a bowl of oil and begin to rub me down, pressing their lips together when I catch their eyes, to hide their shy smiles.

  "It's alright to say something," I tell them. "You can talk about it. I just – I hope Hildy hasn't made a mistake. How does she know? How can she know?" I look down. "Look, my belly is flat."

  I watch as Anja and Gudry give each other a look. "Your breasts, lady," Anja says, running one finger over a nipple. I am used to being touched by these girls now, so much so I don't even flinch away when they do it. It's the same as going for a leg waxing – a grooming ritual. "Look here, do you see? The flesh is darker."

  My nipples do look darker. Or do they? Are my eyes playing tricks on me in the dim light from the fire?

  "You'll be a mother by the next harvest," Gudry says, looking to Anja for agreement. Anja nods.

  "Yes, around harvest time. And a wife, too."

  My two friends are happy for me, even as they respectfully avert their eyes more than they used to, now that it's known throughout the camp that I am to marry the Jarl.

  "Hildy will be telling the Jarl now," Gudry says, taking my hand and helping me into the bath now that I have warmed up enough to stand the hot water. I freeze.

  "What?!" I cry, dismayed. "But I should be the one to tell him! Help me get dressed, I'll go and find the Jarl myself."

  But Anja puts a hand on my wrist. "Lady, he'll know already. It's as it is, this is how we do it. Come, let us bathe you before you go to see the Jarl."

  "Everyone?" I ask. "Even the servants? Does Hildy tell every man when his woman is pregnant before she can?"

  Gudry giggles, the way she always does when she thinks something I've said is especially absurd. "No, lady! Only the highers, and the Jarl. Any baby is welcome, of course, but the Jarl's baby – the Jarl's first baby – that's special. There are customs to attend to. After you feel your womb quicken the women will take you into the woods for a moon ceremony and you will ask Freja for a good and quick birth, and a healthy child."

  Before I leave the bathing roundhouse, Anja hands me a small cloth sack of what looks like dried herbs. "Put a pinch in your cup, and then fill it with boiling water if the sickness comes back."

  And then the two of them, and Hildy, escort me to the Jarl's roundhouse. There's a feeling of formality, of gravity in the air. I'm not sure if it's the funeral for the lost warrior Asgald or the news of my pregnancy or some combination of the two. Perhaps it's all in my own head. Even as I am not as sure as the others seem to be that I really am pregnant, the possibility that I am isn't exactly lighthearted news. I know the statistics on birth before modern medicine. I know pregnancy in this place is a risk to my very life – and to my child's, if there is indeed a child in my belly.

  When I see the expression on Eirik's face, a great sadness wells up in my heart. He's happy. As soon as the women leave us alone he's on his feet, cradling my head against his chest and then pulling me far enough away so that he can look in my eyes.

  "Is it true?" He asks.

  "How do I know?" I reply. "I have no idea! I can't take a pregnancy tes– I mean, I know as much as you do."

  "But you have the mother's sickness. Hildy said –"

  "The mother's sickness?" I ask, and it dawns on me it's just the Viking term for morning sickness. I know what that is. "Oh – yes, well, I did get sick. But I've been sick before, and it was never a baby."

  "But do you feel any different?" The Jarl asks, looking me up and down, searching for the difference he asks about.

  His eyes are full of hope – he desperately wants the news to be true – and it makes my heart ache. "I don't know," I tell him softly, caressing his cheek. "I can't tell yet."

  He's gentler when he makes love to me before we go to sleep. As we lie in the weak orange light from the embers in the fire-pit, both on the verge of sleep, he runs his fingers over the string of bruises running between my hipbones.

  "I didn't mean to hurt you, my love," he murmurs. "I shouldn't have been so passionate. I should have been more careful with you."

  I roll over to face him and nestle into his chest, shushing him with a kiss. Minutes later, and just as I'm about to drift off, he places his hand on my stomach and sighs deeply before closing his eyes.

  Chapter 20

  9th Century

  The winter months pass slowly. I spend my days observing – who goes where, who speaks to who, who outranks who – because there's not much else to do. Due to my pregnancy, I'm being allowed to do even less than I was before the news got out. Gudry and Anja accompany me almos
t everywhere, constantly trying to get me to eat and admonishing me if I so much as dare to pick up a piece of firewood. Hildy keeps a beady eye on me, too, and if I'm seen to be doing anything she considers out of the ordinary, I know I can count on Eirik bringing it up later that night, after she's tattled to him. Thankfully, he's usually got a smile on his face when he does.

  The taking of villages continues, but Eirik doesn't lose any more men – the death of Asgald weighs heavy on him and he's more careful, less confident that the peasants are entirely without the will or the means to defend themselves. My pregnancy is obvious now, undeniable even to myself as my belly swells with Eirik's child.

  It's sometime in what might be April, perhaps May, just as the teasing warmth that's come and gone for the past few weeks feels as if it's beginning to settle more permanently over the camp and the gentle, rolling hills and woods surrounding it. It's daytime and I'm bored, having just spent the last two hours in the bathing roundhouse, letting Gudry and Anja dangle various charms and objects over my midsection, trying to divine the sex of the baby. The results of their experiments have been inconclusive and I'm itching to get out for a walk, maybe even outside the camp. But when I get to the eastern point where the palisades stop, intending to slip out and gather wildflowers to put in Eirik's roundhouse, I hear the commotion of men coming from the direction of the beach.

  "The warriors!" Gudry shrieks, her eyes lighting up. "They're back early! Let's go and meet them, shall we?"

  I grin. Gudry is unmarried, but has recently begun a dalliance with one of the Jarl's men, and she's as effusive and over-excitable as a schoolgirl. Anja reaches out and grabs her wrist, though, before she can tear off down to the beach and throw her arms around her returning warrior.

  "Get a hold of yourself, girl," she snaps at her companion and Gudry's head drops, even as she sneaks a look up at me and smiles, still. "Stop flinging yourself at him in this way – don't you know a man needs to feel a challenge? No, we'll wait right here for them, and you will be containing that ridiculous, pig-like squealing."

  So we wait, just outside the camp, with a few other people who have happened, like us, to be there at the right time. Anja's words have had no effect, though, because the minute Gudry spots her boyfriend she's rushing towards him, throwing her arms around his neck and covering him with enthusiastic kisses. He lifts his head, grinning sheepishly under Gudry's loving assault.

  Anja rolls her eyes. "She'll have a baby in her belly soon, and then she'll be even more useless than she is now!"

  "Oh she's fine," I say, intending to defend Gudry to her constantly aggrieved companion, to say something about how she manages to do her work in the end, even if she pauses a lot to giggle and gossip. But before anything else can come out of my mouth my eyes lock onto the line of captives being led up the path from the beach by Veigar. I take a step forward, my heart suddenly in my throat at the site of that flaxen head, bent low.

  "Is that –?" I start, before remembering that I am the Jarl's wife-to-be now, as well as the future mother of his child, and I no longer have to ask permission to do almost anything. I step forward into the chain of prisoners, grabbing the wrist of the woman who has caught my eye. Briefly I spot a bedraggled clump of children behind her but then she looks up and I'm pressing my hands to my face, sobbing.

  "Willa," I weep, as her eyes widen in recognition and she clings to me. "Oh my God, Willa. I thought you were – I thought you –"

  But we can't talk, because our voices are breaking. People around us are staring but we hold on to each other tightly. When Veigar approaches I lean in and whisper in Willa's ear.

  "I'll come see you. Soon. Tonight! I can help. Where is –"

  But Veigar jerks her away and smirks at me. "Get back, woman, these are the Jarl's prisoners, not yours."

  "Stop!" I shout, before he can drag my friend off. "I want to talk to her!"

  Veigar leans in, although I notice he doesn't lean as close as he could. "Have you gone deaf, idiot? These are not your prisoners, it's not for you to –"

  "LET HER GO!" I bellow as he digs his fingers hard enough into Willa's flesh to make her yell.

  Veigar responds by shoving Willa roughly aside and coming at me. I stand my ground, meeting his eyes, daring him to do something that's going to piss Eirik off. And fortunately I'm not made to pay for my recklessness because Eirik is suddenly between us, staring at Veigar like he thinks he's lost his mind. Instantly, the big lummox's body language changes and he goes from tough guy to naughty toddler.

  "I'm trying to get the captives to their quarters, Jarl," he says, angrily gesturing at me. "And this mad-woman of yours is getting in the way, as usual. Tell her to let me do my job and I'll cause no more trouble to you."

  Eirik, who has an expression on his face that tells me – and, I think, Veigar himself – that Veigar has just come very close to doing something he would have been made to pay for, turns to me, expertly defusing the situation. "Is it so, girl? Are you getting in Veigar's way? Why are you even out here? Anja – why is she –"

  "She wanted to pick flowers, Jarl. For your table. We had no idea you would be returning early. Here, lady, take my arm, we'll go back to the bathing house and –"

  "No," I reply, staying where I am.

  Eirik turns to me sharply. "What craziness have you got inside you now, girl? What is this about?"

  By now, I know there are two Eiriks. There's off-duty Eirik and on-duty Eirik. Neither one is a jerk, but when he's busy being a leader – rather than a husband- and father-to-be – he's focused entirely on that. I know he's got things to do now, after what looks to have been another successful raid, and I know he doesn't have time to listen to any lengthy explanations from me. So I keep it short.

  "This is my friend," I say, gesturing at Willa and glaring angrily at Veigar. "Please ask this pig to keep his hands off her. I also wonder, my Jarl, if I might be allowed to take her with me, now, to the bathing roundhouse. She's dirty and –"

  "They're all dirty, girl," Eirik shoots back, and I can hear the impatience in his voice. Veigar chuckles, just quietly enough so that Eirik doesn't hear it.

  "Please," I whisper, lowering my head respectfully so no one witnessing the scene will have cause to think their Jarl is being henpecked by his crazy Angle.

  Eirik looks at me, then at Veigar, and then at his man Gunnar, who has replaced Asgald in the inner circle. Then he looks back at me again and finally shrugs. "Fine. Take her. Anja – you and Gudry help this one to get cleaned up. I'll see you tonight, my love."

  He looks right at me and emphasizes the 'you' and I can't quite tell if he's being good-humored or if I've genuinely annoyed him. Not that it matters right now. Right now, I need to get Willa away from the smirking – although happily somewhat humbled – thug standing over her.

  "Come," I say, taking her hand and helping her up.

  "Wait!" She cries. "My children!"

  We all turn to the filthy little waifs standing silently behind their mother – how many of them are there? Three? Good Lord. Eirik speaks before I even have time to entreat him to let the kids come with us.

  "No, girl. They'll be taken with the other children and fed, there's nothing to fret about. Take her, clean her up, Hildy will take care of all the little ones."

  Eirik does not understand that telling me Hildy will be 'taking care' of the children engenders absolutely no confidence in me, but there's nothing else to do about it. I look at Willa. "Come. You heard him – they'll be fed."

  She doesn't want to come with me, and she makes a weak attempt at stopping it as one of the other men usher the children along with the rest of the captives, into the camp.

  "I'm to be his wife," I whisper, leaning in close to my exhausted-looking childhood friend. "He is trustworthy, don't worry, they'll be fed."

  "And they'll be kept here?"

  "Yes," I nod. "We'll take care of you and then we can see to them. Alright?"

  I get the strong feeling that Willa would
n't even be close to agreeing to such a separation if she didn't perfectly understand the situation – i.e. if she didn't understand that she has no say in any of it, anyway. She takes the arm I offer her. Veigar lunges at her one last time as we walk away, like the overgrown child he is, and Anja laughs out loud at him, which makes me laugh, too.

  I can't be as free with my conversation as I would like, as we make our way to the bathing roundhouse, although from the look of Willa, whose eyes are falling closed even as she remains on her feet, I'm not sure it would be any use to ask questions.

  When we arrive I instruct the two women to warm a bath for my friend and they do, although both of them wear irritated little grimaces on their faces throughout.

  "You can leave, if you like," I tell them, annoyed. "I can do this myself."

  "We can't leave," Anja replies coolly. "The Jarl asked us to stay with you."

  "Fine then," I snap. "I don't know why you two have bugs up your butts about this – you have to bathe me every damn day!"

  Anja narrows her eyes at me, aware I'm being short with her, but not aware, specifically, of what it means to have a 'bug' up her 'butt.'

  It's amazing how much of a pain in the ass a person can be, even as they technically do their work. Both of them move slowly and resentfully, wrinkling their noses at Willa's stench and making faces like helping to clean her up is the worst task they have ever been asked to participate in.

  "Oh my God!" I shout, about twenty minutes into something that should have taken five, at most. "Give me the cloth, I'll do it myself!"

  Instead of waiting to be handed the cloth I just snatch it out of Anja's hand. Willa is in the tub of warm water, half-asleep, her head lolling back on the edge. She jerks awake again at the sound of my angry voice. Anja moves to snatch the washcloth back from me and I hold it away, eyeballing her.

  "Go get Hildy if you like, but I'm going to do this myself. If you don't like it, take it up with her – or the Jarl!"

  At that, Anja abruptly stands up, announces that she's going to do just that, and flounces out.