She had only the single room with the hearth, a loom, a sleeping bench, and a table where she did her needlework. But everything was neat and clean, and although her dress was patched, it was made with the finest stitches.
“Are you sick?” he asked worriedly.
It wasn’t like her to take a nap in the middle of the day, and she had dark circles under her eyes.
“Nothing too bad,” she said with a calm smile. “I just needed to lie down for a bit.”
“I was worried when you weren’t out to welcome me and my ships back to Jómsborg.”
Everyone had been at the beach when they landed, staring openmouthed at Sweyn’s ships and the men who now served him. It was his finest hour, and he had wanted his mother to see it. He had wanted her there when, his heart swelling with pride, he led his men through the gates in the log wall that formed Jómsborg’s defensive palisade.
“You should have seen my crew when they set eyes on Jómsborg.”
They’d stared with their mouths hanging open because of the town’s strong, unparalleled defenses. The fortress sat on a hill well out on a peninsula, and you could see for miles in all directions. The yards-high walls were made of logs, with towers for archers. The training grounds that every Jómsvíking learned to fear lay around the fortress. That was where Sweyn and his fellow warriors would train the men who crewed his new ships. Several of them were skilled and experienced. Some of them might even become proper Jómsvíkings if they were lucky. They’d be able to make some of the others into warriors before the winter was over.
As soon as he had found shelter for his men, he had hurried out of Jómsborg to his mother’s cabin at the edge of the woods outside the palisade. Now that he was here, he realized she wasn’t doing well at all.
“I saw their surprise and how proudly you stood as you led them through the gates,” his mother said. Then she had a nasty coughing fit. “I didn’t want to disturb your big moment, so I never approached you.”
She ran her hand over his arm and looked at him, her eyes beaming with pride. Sweyn set his knapsack on the table and hugged her.
“You shouldn’t live out here in the cold anymore. My luck has turned, and you can live inside the fortress, sleep in a soft bed, and eat meat and sweet bread every day.”
She shook her head and laughed in embarrassment. “That won’t do. How would that look?”
Sweyn smiled. Finally he could say the words he had longed to say since he was a child.
“The shame you carried is gone. King Harald acknowledged me and gave me ships. Your son is a Jelling and a ship captain, so it isn’t suitable anymore for you to live out here. I have silver to pay with.”
He took out the pouch with his share of the monastery loot.
His mother never had to live in poverty again. He would make sure she had only the best. Sweyn dropped down onto his knees in front of the old woman and looked into her gentle eyes.
“Your good name was restored at the throne of the king.”
Although his mother was highly esteemed in Jómsborg for her honor and sewing skills, Harald’s denial had been a heavy burden for her all these years. Being raped by a king and then called a liar and a loose woman had worn on her even though she had striven not to let Sweyn see it. He took her skinny hand and felt the pride swelling in his chest again.
“Everything will be fine now.”
She turned her head away and wiped the tears from her eyes.
“Ever since the first time I held you in my arms, I knew that you were going to do something great. No mother could be prouder of her son.”
She coughed again, so hard that it tore at her lungs. Sweyn’s eyebrows went up.
“Gather your things now and come live with me in Jómsborg. You’ll never have to sew for other people again.”
“What would I do during the day?” she exclaimed with a serene smile.
“You’ll rest and eat until you’re fat,” he said with a grin and started gathering her things.
“I can’t leave my house. What about my chickens and goats and my garden patch?”
“Everything will be well looked after. And Gray is coming with you.”
As a ship captain, Sweyn had his own room in the fortress. They could stay there until he found something bigger.
“I want to hear all about your trip. Is there any other reason you’re so cheerful?” his mother said, eyeing him intently as he filled the sack with her things.
Sweyn chuckled at her astuteness but shook his head.
“No, there’s nothing else to tell.”
She would get to meet Sigrid soon enough, but until then there was no point in worrying her.
There would be a small banquet to celebrate her becoming his bride, Erik had said, after having lain with her again and again and finally left her bed. It would not be anywhere near as big as the one they would have at the midwinter sacrifice, when all the Svea chieftains met at the temple.
Sigrid looked out at the drunken, laughing guests lining the long tables that had been arranged outside. There were many more people than she’d seen in Harald’s royal hall, so there must be some truth to what people said, that the Sveas’ midwinter sacrifice was the largest in all of Scandinavia.
Pigs were being roasted around all the fires, and women and men danced boisterously to the musicians’ playing. Erik sat in the throne beside her. He had handed out expensive gifts to chieftains, warriors, and other noblemen, who were now contentedly examining what they’d received. The priestesses and the priests who sat at the table had also received presents.
“You are a generous king, my husband,” she said.
“It’s my duty.” Erik smiled broadly at her and took her hand. “Tell me, are you satisfied with what you’ve learned about Sjofn’s delights?”
Sigrid couldn’t help but smile at the memory of how he’d made her cling tight to him, screaming in ecstasy.
“You are truly dedicated to Frey, my husband,” she replied modestly.
“I’ll visit your bed often,” Erik said with a contented smile, standing up. “You will bear my child this winter.”
He gave her belly a pat before walking away to warmly greet an older man with a braided beard and a tattoo on his forehead.
All eyes watched Erik with devotion and admiration. Axel hadn’t lied when he said the king was respected and honored by the people of Svealand. It would have been easier if she could hate him, but there was nothing to dislike about Erik.
Sigrid put her hand on her belly and felt the longing burn in her body: the king of kings, the most important ruler, and the leader among warriors. May she soon hold him in her arms.
“You look lost in thought for a festive evening like this. Aren’t you pleased with your husband?”
Sigrid looked up and saw Axel coming over to her with a beautiful woman.
“He’s everything you said and more,” she said warmly. “I welcome you, my friend and companion.”
“You honor me, Queen,” he said, and gestured to the bowing woman. “This is Solveig, my wife. I offer her to you, to have at your side, to serve you.”
Sigrid smiled at the woman. There was a calm, friendly demeanor to her, and her expression was charming and sincere.
“Your husband has taken good care of me, and I would be grateful to count you as a friend. There is much I want to know about the Svea.”
“Then I’ll leave you to it,” Axel said and walked over to the king.
The two women smiled at each other.
“My husband told me about the hardships of your voyage. I’ll do everything I can to assist you.” Solveig looked around and then leaned closer to Sigrid. “Do you understand why you were received the way you were?”
“Haldis didn’t seem pleased that Erik had acquired a wife,” Sigrid said with a smile.
“Haldis isn’t the one you should be afraid of. She lives solely for her son, and the shortcomings in her welcome were to assess whether you’re strong enough to earn resp
ect.” Solveig knelt down beside Sigrid. “Worse are those who speak ill of the king’s honor because he took a foreigner for a wife.” She spoke so softly that her words were scarcely audible.
Sigrid looked to see what Solveig was looking at. A priestess with black makeup around her eyes was standing with two tall young women. All three were looking at Sigrid with spite.
“The youngest is Aedis, Erik’s mistress who’s borne him two daughters. You kicked her out of her room this morning.”
Sigrid nodded. She would keep her eye on that one.
“The mother, Hyndla, is a powerful seeress, and the sister is married to Sacrifice-Sven, who wants Erik’s throne as much as Styrbjörn does.”
Sigrid couldn’t help but laugh.
“Nothing like making powerful enemies right from the start.”
There didn’t seem to be any end to the ill will she encountered every way she turned. People she’d never talked to were ready to stick a knife in her just because she breathed. Among these strangers she was forced to move as if on thin ice. Solveig, too, might be a false friend who wanted to get close to her for her own gain.
“You’re not concerned at all about what I just said?” Solveig asked in surprise.
Sigrid followed Emma with her eyes. Her protector walked between the clusters of people talking to each other and listened wide-eyed as a little child to the words that were being said. No one had any idea of her formidable power.
“My life is in Freya’s hands,” Sigrid said calmly. “My only fear is displeasing my husband or Freya, not the disputes and evil machinations of other people.”
She stroked the mark on her wrist with her finger and smiled at Hyndla, who stared at her angrily. If the old woman realized how loyal Sigrid was to Freya, surely that would placate her ill will.
“I need to visit Svealand’s holy temple and talk to Hyndla.”
Solveig looked at her.
“You and Erik will face the gods in the temple when the night is at its darkest. Axel must have mentioned that to you?”
Sigrid nodded. What he’d told her were tidbits and half-sung songs about her bowing before the gods. She didn’t know what the whole thing meant, but just getting to visit Svealand’s temple was enough.
“Do you know what will happen there?” Sigrid asked.
Solveig looked away and replied, “No one can speak of that.”
Sigrid smiled. “Then I must leave my destiny in Freya’s hands.”
Axel’s wife hesitated. Then she said, “You won’t be facing the goddesses. You will face the judgment of the Æsir: Thor, Odin, and Frey.”
The old ways were strong in Svealand. Kára sang with the gods who filled the country and radiated from the sacrifice places, altar stones in temples, and graves that were strewn over the vast plains like stars in the sky. Emma squatted down and picked up a fistful of dirt that she smelled before she let it sift through her fingers. Valhalla’s presence was strong around her, and behind that there was something older. Ull and Nerthus, the All-Mother who had ruled the earth since the birth of time, filled the ground with peace and good crops. The Svea truly had every reason to be arrogant given the sorcery they had in their country.
Emma stood up and walked among the swaggering mead-drinking warriors, past people who enthusiastically praised Erik for filling their stomachs and then turned to speak ill of Sigrid, who had ensnared their king with her love charms. When she approached Sigrid’s kinswomen, they turned their backs on her. Blind and deaf to everything except for their pathetic lust, they were now united in their dislike of her. Small grains of sand, small seas, small are the minds of men.
Emma wandered on, watching the foreigners, who revealed their standing in the flock through their gestures, clothing, and jewelry. As if she were invisible to everyone, she walked between the groups of people and stopped near Haldis, the king’s mother, who was surrounded by agitated women.
“If that Scylfing bitch thinks we’re going to dance to her every whim, she’s going to be surprised,” said a young blonde.
“Calm yourself, Frigda,” Haldis said, calmly stroking her hand. “You know Erik. Once he’s won his victories, he’ll be back in your arms just as he’s always done. He needs a legitimate son, and you can’t deny him that.”
“Even so, it’s a disgrace that he married a Geat,” a dark-haired beauty said.
“He did what he had to,” said an older woman, her belly great with the baby she was expecting.
The blond mistress pursed her lips and said, “All I ever wanted was to be with him.”
“Frigda, Erik is dedicated to Frey,” Haldis protested. “His duty is to spread fertility and strength among everyone in Svealand, not just in his own family. Be happy for the moments you’ve had. It is an honor for a farmer’s daughter to be the king’s mistress.”
The blonde nodded and wiped the tears from her cheeks. She obviously didn’t find that very comforting. Haldis’s brow furrowed and she gave the girl a warning look.
“I’ll find you a husband so you can have your own hearth. Then you’ll have something else to think about when Erik can’t come to your bed as often as before. Don’t you want that?”
Frigda bowed her head obediently and conceded, “Yes, Venerable One.”
“Good. Then it’s decided.” Haldis clapped her hands contentedly and surveyed the men. “Who shall we choose? Who’s good enough?”
Emma continued her wandering. A short distance away two warriors were saying they’d really like to screw that Scylfing bitch bloody, and what a shame it was that they couldn’t get close to her.
Emma stopped short of the tables where the most important guests were dining on roast pork. Hidden in the shadows, Emma was relieved to see Sigrid smile at Erik. Emma had sat outside Sigrid’s door and listened to them having sex to secure the baby’s future. Everything was as it should be. Erce’s presence was like a slow heartbeat in the ground that filled Emma with warm security. The pain that Kára inflicted was gone now that she was keeping watch over Sigrid. There was nothing to worry about. Everything was going to be fine.
Emma wandered down to the beach, where the boats were pulled up and resting on the sand. She sat down there and leaned her back against a ship, looking out at the dark river water. Her belly was full of the food she’d managed to get ahold of. The night was warm, and her eyes were heavy with sleep. She curled up contentedly and yawned tiredly.
“What do you see?” a hoarse voice said.
Three women with walking staffs, older than time itself, came wandering toward her. Their faces were wrinkled, with cheeks so sunken they were like skeletons. Their heads were topped with wispy silver and white hair, and animal claws and ravens’ feet hung around their necks.
“I see a fylgja, a guardian spirit, in human form,” another of them said with her toothless mouth.
They were all wearing the simplest homespun cloth, which hung frayed and dirty from their stooped bodies, but their strength was so great that Emma felt their power throbbing in her body. She sat up and looked at the three in surprise.
“I see the vessel that bears the dís we prayed and sacrificed for.”
The three women waited for Emma’s response. She gulped and wondered whether they were of this world.
“Blessed am I by the storm dís, Kára, guardian spirit of my mistress, Sigrid Tostedotter. Who are you, Venerable Ones?”
They watched her in silence for a long while.
“We are they who see what was, what is, and what will be,” they responded in unison.
Seeresses. Emma humbly bowed her head in reverence to the three old women. The staffs they used for support were covered in symbols and topped with finials: a falcon with outstretched wings, a dragon, and a sow.
“She is the vessel, she who will be sacrificed for the child, but still she does not see clearly,” the second said. “The one she waits for will be late.”
The third shook her head.
“She may die before she’s complet
ed what will come. The thread is thin.”
And suddenly they backed away from her, as if they feared her destiny.
“What do you see?” Emma cried behind them. “Where can I find you?”
The eldest stopped and answered, “Seek us in the sacred grove. Maybe we will answer you.”
Then the three of them were gone, as if they’d never been there. Emma pulled her fingers through her hair and looked out at the empty beach where the reeds bowed to the wind and the shadows lingered under the trees. What did they mean? Kára was silent and as distant as the memory of England. A thin thread. The one she waits for will be late. Maybe she would die. A cool wind swept in over the river and made her shiver in the summer night. Maybe they weren’t even real. Maybe they’d come from the afterworld, and yet they had warned her.
The beach, which had felt so safe before, suddenly felt dark and menacing. She got up to hurry back to the party but had only taken a few steps before a dark figure staggered out of the woods. Emma sighed heavily. Toste and his boys were walking toward her. The chieftain was very drunk and looked at her with a covetous sneer.
“I’ve been looking for you, goldilocks,” Toste drawled.
Uneasiness crawled up her back. She was wary of the danger and started running in the opposite direction. The next moment a pair of strong arms grabbed her from behind and a beard tickled the back of her neck.
“Why do you run?”
It was one of the warriors. She recognized his voice from the ship. He grabbed her breast and squeezed so hard she squealed.
“Good catch,” Toste yelled, approaching.
Fear started prickling through Emma like cold needles. She closed her eyes and called out for Kára. Come to me. Save me. Emma tried to break the grip around her waist, but Toste picked her up in his arms.
“You part your legs, yearning and enticing,” Toste said with a laugh and tossed her on the ground.
The laughing warriors tore off her dress, then held her so tightly she couldn’t move. Now she was really scared, her heart beating so hard it was going to burst out of her chest. Toste pulled her to him.
Mistress, I beg you. Help me!
The Unbroken Line of the Moon Page 23