by Darby, Brit
When Moira laid her hand upon Thorvald’s arm, he broke his gaze and turned his attention to her. The peace in her mother’s expression said everything; Cailin understood that Moira had forgiven Thorvald for any past wrongdoing. Cailin’s heart constricted inside her chest, the anger and hurt she had held on to for many years now seemed trivial. If her mother offered the man forgiveness, how could she do any less?
Drake brushed his lips against her hair. “I will fetch us some wine, beloved. A toast to our happiness seems most timely.” He disappeared into the crowd, leaving Cailin in reflection.
“Are you all right, my daughter?”
Cailin was so immersed in her thoughts she was unaware that Moira had crossed the hall and stood next to her now. She nodded at her mother’s question, but no words came.
“You looked—” Moira stopped, as if uncertain. Instead she took Cailin’s hand into her own. “You do know that Thorvald loves you?”
A sigh escaped Cailin. “I think I see it now when he looks at me. Or does wistfulness cloud my judgment?”
“Even out of great tragedy, some good can be found if one looks hard enough.”
Feeling a rush of emotion, Cailin blurted, “Can you honestly find any good in what he did to you, Mother? How did you find it in your heart to forgive him?”
“Perhaps there was not so much to forgive.”
Confused, Cailin looked at her mother, who led her to a nearby bench against the wall where they both sat. Under the cover of the music and the blanket of the crowd, Moira said quietly, “I am going to tell you what I’ve told no other, not even my confessor. I hope that you can open your heart to my humble confession.”
“Mother—” Cailin’s protest died at Moira’s level look.
“Please, let me say what I have to say, lest I never find the courage again.” Moira paused and drew a deep breath, the difficulty of her task reflected on her face. “It is true, I was captured in a Viking raid and Thorvald claimed me for his woman. Edwin said what many thought, I am sure, that any woman of faith and honor would have killed herself rather than submit to a heathen’s touch. Thorvald was a fierce warrior, highly regarded by the men he raided with. He was not brutal as many Vikings were with Briton women they took as slaves, but yes, he took me to his furs.”
Moira paused, as if returning to the past, reliving those days of hardship. “The simple and selfish truth is I didn’t want to die, the harsh trial of living in captivity actually made we want to live all that much more. It was a challenge. I was determined to outwit Thorvald, and one day escape and hopefully enrage him.” She laughed a little at the memory. “Perhaps it may surprise you to know I was strong-willed when I was younger.”
Cailin smiled. “Somehow I believe it.”
“Each day I managed to survive made me more aware how lucky I was. I saw other women who were not so fortunate in their captors, and was thankful for Thorvald’s kindness. I never told him so, of course, out of sheer stubbornness. He learned to speak English for my sake and as time passed, I saw subtle changes in his manner towards me. When the raiding party prepared to return home some weeks later, he often let slip small details for a reason that I didn’t fully grasp until much later.”
“How did you escape, Mother? It seems a miracle.”
“Was it?” A knowing smile came to Moira’s lips and her green eyes glistened. “Often, Thorvald mentioned the presence of a fishing village south along the coast from our main camp. He ordered me to prepare two bags with food and water. For the trip home to Hedeby, he said, stating more than once when exactly we would set sail. But on the night before we sailed, he drank so much ale, he fell into a deep sleep before he came to my furs. It gave me opportunity to sneak from the camp with the bags in the darkness.”
Realization dawned on Cailin. “Thorvald let you escape.”
“Aye, it was not so hard to figure out once I was safely away. The bags also contained a small knife and silver coin that I knew he put there. In the end, he hadn’t the heart to take me from my husband, my home, my people. He gave me my freedom.”
Moira drew Cailin’s hands into her own. “Even when I discovered I was with child, I thought it a blessing. John and I were never able to conceive, and Thorvald gave us two children I loved, regardless of their beginning.
“So, you see, there is not so much to forgive. What Thorvald gave me was much greater than what he took. Except—” she drew a shaky breath, “when he came back for Lachlan and took you instead.”
Cailin squeezed the hands in hers. “Even that was meant to be, Mother. Had he not done so, Edwin’s plot might have succeeded long ago.”
“I—” This time tears choked off Moira’s words. “I should have moved heaven and earth to find you. Instead I allowed others to influence my decisions, let my secret guilt keep me silent, and went on with my life. How can you forgive me?”
“There is nothing to forgive, Mother. My own life has been good. I have no regrets, nor should you.” Cailin’s gaze fell upon her husband, who stood nearby fetching the wine, just far enough to allow them privacy, but close enough she felt his reassuring presence. “Had events not unfolded as they did, I might never have found Drake.”
Thorvald crossed the great hall and approached the two women, who rose from the bench and faced him. “Tomorrow I leave for Hedeby on the Dreki Logi,” he said. “Hulda must be pacing and tossing the runes every hour by now.”
Cailin nodded. “I wish Hulda was here for the wedding. I miss her dearly.”
“I will tell her,” Thorvald said. “But, perhaps one day, you and Drake will visit Hedeby and tell her so yourself.”
She saw his eyes glisten suspiciously and touched his hand reassuringly. “I — we — would like that very much, Fadir.”
Her gesture seemed to bring him peace, but it was Moira’s words that prompted him to smile. “Perhaps you and your aunt should consider moving here, Thorvald … where you can be near our children.”
Drake joined them in time to overhear the last bit of conversation. He handed Cailin a goblet of wine. “And hopefully one day, grandchildren.” He touched his goblet’s rim to hers. “Lots and lots of grandchildren.”
Thorvald laughed and nodded his approval, his expression showing how touched he was by Moira’s invitation and Drake’s words.
As Drake and Cailin moved to depart the festivities to steal some precious hours alone, he hugged Cailin tightly against him and whispered in her ear. “Are the Dragons still with us?”
“As always, dear heart. As always.”
THE END
About Brit Darby
Brit Darby is the writing team of two authors, Patricia McAllister and Fela Dawson Scott. Unique storylines woven within historical drama are Brit Darby’s signature.
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The Tiger Sleeps
Black Wolf
Spirit of the Mountain
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