“Something has happened while we were away.”
The statement invited an answer but Brita interrupted.
“Not now, Mist. Let us get our guests situated.”
Brita was right, of course, but Mist couldn’t help the shiver of disquiet that coursed through her. How was it that Valdyr seemed to be included in whatever was going on while she felt more like an outsider?
Astrid was walking next to Iliana, her eyes focused on the baby. “And who might this be?”
Iliana gave her a tired smile, pulling back the coverings from the babe’s face. Large blue eyes in a cherubic face stared back at them.
“This is Cecilia.”
Astrid began cooing to the baby, her matching blue eyes sparkling with delight. She gently pulled the covers back farther the better to see the child. “May I hold her?”
Iliana handed the child over without hesitation. “I am afraid that she is dirty right now,” she said apologetically.
“I will change her, if you like.” Astrid cuddled the babe close despite the reeking smell coming from the infant.
Iliana’s face colored with embarrassment. Before she could speak, Mist told her sister, “They lost everything to the volcano.”
Brita and Astrid stared at Iliana in sympathy, neither knowing what to say.
“I am certain that we can find something,” Brita finally answered, and Astrid quickly agreed.
“Oh, yes. If you do not mind, I will take her and give her a bath and fresh clothing. We still have Erika’s things from when she was a babe.”
Just then, Erika popped in the door. At the sight of the newcomers, she stopped, her curious glance quickly scanning all of them before fixing on the babe in Astrid’s arms. Eyes widening with delight, she hurried across the room.
“Ooh! A babe!”
Mist grinned at her niece’s exuberance and made the introductions. When Astrid took Cecilia to change her, Erika was close on her heels.
“What a sweet child,” Edda remarked softly.
Mist started to make a comment when she noticed the sadness dimming Edda’s brown eyes. She had to be thinking of her youngest son again. A sudden pall hung over the room. Just how many lives had been lost to that raging mountain?
Iliana and Edda wearily seated themselves on stools close to the hearth, and Brita brought them each a platter with bread and cheese. The thrall handed them each a wooden cup filled with buttermilk. Thanking them, they began to eat while Mist pulled her sister aside.
“Lord Finn will come for them after he has found a new home. I intend to try to get them to stay the winter.”
Brita glanced back at the two. “It will make it crowded with all of Valdyr’s men, and our supplies will be stretched.”
“I know,” Mist agreed, chewing nervously on her bottom lip. “I have begun praying that God will show me the answer.”
“If He does,” Brita said, picking up her discarded sewing, “then perhaps I will listen more to what you have to say about Him.”
Surprised, Mist smiled in amusement. She doubted the Lord was willing to use bribery as a means of bringing His children to Him.
Mist turned when she heard the men coming in the door. Valdyr caught her eye, but made his way to where the weapons were stored, hanging his baldric on a wooden peg on the wall. The sword it contained was one of the largest and best made that she had ever seen. The runes etched into it gave it its ominous name: Cuts Deep.
At one time, she would have envied such a weapon, and truth to tell, she still felt pride in such an amazing piece. It only went to show just how much she had changed, but just how much more she had to do so before she would be a woman that the Lord would be proud to call His daughter. She wasn’t certain she would ever reach that point that Drustan called turning the other cheek.
As the evening meal had already been served before they arrived, Brita and Gudrun placed bowls of skyr, the thick soured milk, on the table for those who had just returned, along with platters of cheese and bread. The famished men fell on the food with a ravenous hunger. Mist found herself unable to conjure up an appetite. She had too much on her mind, not least of which was her father’s reaction to having guests for the winter. What had Valdyr told him anyway?
She located her father at the wooden table talking to several of the men. Taking her courage in hand, she approached him and waited until he acknowledged her. She might be the chieftain’s daughter, but she knew her place.
When he glanced up, she asked, “May I speak with you, Far?”
She had lived with the man twenty-and-six summers and still couldn’t read the expression on his impassive face. It had always been thus. How had her mor ever been able to penetrate that stoic shell of his?
He got to his feet and motioned for her to precede him outside.
Night had fallen and thousands of stars pierced through the undulating colors of the sky. The moon had risen and hung like a scythe in the darkening expanse.
Mist tried to think of a way to begin the conversation. In the end, her father did it for her.
“Valdyr tells me that Finn One-Eye saved your life. I thought you told me it was the Christian, Drustan.” She didn’t miss the suspicion in his voice.
“Both are true,” she told him. “It was at the battle of Leuven that Finn saved my life.” She hated talking about it. Her heart began to race, her breathing growing shallow as she told him the story. Even now, the mental picture had the power to turn her legs to jelled curd. “I was surrounded, three against one. I could only bury myself under my shield and await certain death.” She remembered turning her face to the side from beneath the shield and seeing Finn roaring his way toward her, cleaving through his assailants like a knife cleaves through butter.
Her father’s eyes were shining as she related the story and, for the first time, she could see the emotion in their depths. Surely those weren’t tears.
“You never told me this,” he told her huskily.
She folded her arms against her chest and looked up at the sky. It was easier to watch those mesmerizing patterns of dancing lights than to face her father’s emotion.
“It is not something that I like to remember,” she answered softly.
Egil sighed. “It is a debt of honor that I will gladly repay. You need to know, however, that our supplies will run out before spring.”
She whirled to face him. “How can that be?”
“The ash from the volcano did more damage than we originally anticipated. We will more than likely have to slay several of the sheep and cattle before spring sets in.”
Livestock was about the only thing that accounted for wealth on the island as there were no natural resources to depend on for trade. To diminish the livestock would diminish her father’s ability to barter.
“I am sorry, Far.”
He shrugged. “We will make do.”
Mist turned to go back inside, her heart heavy. How much worse would it get when Finn’s family arrived?
“Mist?”
She stopped and reluctantly turned back to face her father, her eyebrows raised in question.
“I am thankful that Finn saved your life.” He paused, swallowing hard. “You are...you are very special to me.”
Mist felt as though she had just been handed a new sword made of silver rather than iron. Her smile was warm.
“Thank you, Far.”
“I want you to know that I have given my consent for Bjorn and Astrid to marry.”
So that was why her sister was in such a jubilant mood. That was good news indeed.
“This makes no difference to the contract between you and Valdyr,” he told her.
Such an idea had never occurred to her, so why was he mentioning it now? Did he think Valdyr would wish to be released? The thought didn’t make
her as happy as it should have.
“Although I will be proud to have Bjorn as a son, I still think Valdyr is the right man for you.”
She might just agree with her father. But would Valdyr?
Chapter 9
A little over two weeks later, Finn’s weary family arrived at Egilsfjord.
Mist hastened outside to greet them, along with her father, Valdyr, Edda and Iliana. Mist was surprised that there was only one man in the group, and he was leading the entourage.
“Where are all the men, Olaf?” Edda asked him anxiously, looking past his shoulders. “Was there trouble?”
He swung the pack he was carrying over his shoulder and tiredly dropped it to the ground. “We passed a beached whale a few miles from here. The men stayed behind to slay and process it.” He glanced at Valdyr. “If you would like to send some of your men, as well, I will show them the way.”
Valdyr’s men rose from their various places scattered around the farmyard where they had been enjoying the diminishing sunlight. Some were preparing their weapons for the coming winter’s storage while others had been amusing themselves by challenging each other in games of strength. Excitement shone in their eyes. Anything out of the ordinary was a breath of fresh air.
Amund glanced at Valdyr. When Valdyr nodded his head in agreement, Amund began to rattle off orders to the men standing around.
Some quickly retreated into the house to get weapons that had already been stored, others searched out implements to help them in processing the meat.
“Take some horses and carts, as well,” Egil told them, and several men hastened to obey. There would be too much meat for the men to carry, even with so many hands.
Valdyr turned to Egil. “I will go with them.”
Sharing a look with Mist, he caught the ax that Amund threw to him without taking his eyes from hers. She thought she knew how a mouse must feel when confronted by a cat, every muscle frozen, unable to look away as it waited for the cat to pounce. The sudden gleam in Valdyr’s eyes told her that he knew just what effect he was having on her, and her face set stonily as she stared back at him. The man was absolutely too sure of himself.
“Ready?” Amund asked.
Valdyr nodded, finally releasing her from his magnetic stare and, turning, he followed after Amund as he trotted after the others.
Mist let out a protracted breath, watching them until they disappeared over one of the hills that surrounded the farm, the memory of that look leaving her oddly shaken. For the first time in her life she understood how Brita had felt when she watched her husband leave home on some expedition. Only Valdyr was not her husband, at least not yet. So why did she feel so bereft at his going? And why did thoughts of what his homecoming might bring make her heart beat faster? It was not like he and she would share the same kind of greeting as Brita did with her husband—a loving embrace, a passionate kiss—although she found the thought not as unpleasant as she would have several months ago.
Edda had already led her family into the house, their excited chatter bringing a smile to Mist’s face as she pushed away thoughts of Valdyr and followed them inside. Weariness had vanished in the faces of Finn’s people, to be replaced by delight at having finally reaching their destination and being reunited with the others. Shy younger children clung to their mother’s skirts, while the older ones stared curiously about.
Brita had already prepared food and was setting it on the table. She glanced about and then questioned Mist in surprise.
“Where is everyone? I expected more people than this.”
“Finn’s men found a beached whale,” Mist told her, helping her lay out the platters. “Some of our men have gone to help them process it.”
Brita’s blue eyes shone with excitement. “That will certainly relieve us of the worry of how we will feed everyone this winter.”
The same thought had occurred to Mist. Even with their larger group, the meat from a good-size whale would feed them for a long time to come.
“I knew that God would take care of us,” Mist told her sister, stepping back to survey the table.
Perhaps her voice lacked the conviction it should have for Brita’s look was skeptical. Before Brita could reply, Edda joined them with several of the others.
Edda made the introductions of her clan. There was her niece, Finna, a young woman barely past her youth who was the daughter of Inga, Edda’s sister-in-law, married to Finn’s brother, Solvig. Dagrun was Inga’s oldest daughter and Haldor her only son. There were others who hung back; Mist assumed they were thralls or servants. She had yet to be introduced to the men, and Mist wondered with some trepidation where they were going to house everyone.
Excited chatter quickly ceased as the group seated themselves and fell on the food. Brita set a pitcher of buttermilk on the table along with some wooden cups.
“Please, help yourselves. If you will excuse us, Mist and I were in the middle of making cheese. We need to get back to it before it spoils.”
Edda started to climb to her feet, but Brita waved her away. “No, Edda. We can manage. You have some catching up to do with your family.”
Reluctantly seating herself again, Edda gave them a doubtful frown. “If you are certain...”
“We are,” Mist agreed, and Edda relented, thankful to find out news of those who had traveled overland instead of by ship as she had. Mist hadn’t missed the worried frowns that often marked the older woman’s face over the past few weeks as she stood in the doorway staring off into the distance, waiting for her family to be reunited once again. Such was the life of a wife. Mist had the feeling that when she married Valdyr, she would spend much of her time looking for his return, as well.
Brita and Mist returned to their cheesemaking while the others had their meal. For the first time in a long while they would have salted cheese, thanks to Valdyr. He had brought several kegs of salt with him and, to Mist at least, it was worth more than the emerald jeweled bracelet he had brought for her. A piece of jewelry that, although was lovely, she still had yet to wear as it so closely reminded her of a shackle.
“Mist?”
Busy stirring the rennet into the milk, Mist was paying little attention to her sister. “Hmm?”
“Do you really believe your God provided the whale?”
Mist paused, her mind already running ahead of itself trying to figure out how to answer since she had never had the opportunity to learn any of the scriptures. She always felt so inept when questioned about her faith, but decided that the best way was merely to tell Brita what God’s word said.
“God’s holy book says that if you believe, you will get what you ask for.”
Brita’s look held cynicism. “Every time?”
Mist thought about Jesus begging God to save him from the cross. His answer had been no. She stopped stirring and focused on her sister.
“If we ask within His will.”
She could see by the look on her sister’s face that she was not satisfied with the answer. Mist sighed, not certain how to make things clear when she was so often unclear herself. She noticed Erika talking to Finna and decided to use her niece to clarify her thoughts.
“Let me try to explain it another way,” she started, and Brita took over stirring the cheese. Relieved, Mist wiped her hands on a towel to clear them of the oily residue.
“If Erika asked you for something that you felt would cause her injury, you would refuse her, would you not?”
Brita’s look turned pensive. “You mean like the time she asked me for a knife when she was but three years old?”
It was hard not to grin at the reminder of her niece’s indomitable spirit. “Just so!” Mist agreed emphatically. “You told her no.”
Brow creased in thought, Brita slowly nodded. “I understand, but what about asking for fair weather, or food for th
e winter? How can this not be in His will?”
Mist bit her lip. “I do not know the mind of God, Brita. Sometimes His answer is yes, sometimes no and sometimes, wait.”
Brita pursed her lips thoughtfully, but before they could continue their conversation, Edda interrupted them.
“We would like to help.”
Brita and Mist turned to her in surprise and noticed that the food had been cleared from the table. Iliana and Inga were standing behind her, holding the dishes.
“That is not necessary,” Brita began, but Edda held up a hand.
“If we are to share in the bounty, then we need to help. Besides—” she smiled “—many hands make less work.”
Mist frowned. “But surely the others are tired after their long journey.”
Inga shook her head. “We were able to rest on the way. We would like to help. What can we do?”
Mist and Brita exchanged glances, and Brita shrugged. Mist knew that she would feel the same in their place.
“This batch is almost ready to fit into the molds,” Brita said, handing them the wooden forms used for setting the cheese.
Without further explanation, the women began to gather the necessary supplies, moving as one. Mist grinned, shaking her head. It was obvious that they had their own way of doing things and that they were used to working together.
Inga called her daughter over. “Finna, we need more wood for the fire.” She glanced at Brita. “Where can she find some?”
Brita turned to Mist. “I almost forgot. I was going to ask you if you would gather some. We are running low, and we will need more to finish the cheese.”
“I will take the cart and go inland,” Mist answered.
“Finna will go with you,” Inga told her.
When Mist pulled her sword and baldric from its peg on the wall, Finna’s brows lifted in astonishment. Mist realized that it would take a more modest person than herself to be unmoved by the look of admiration and awe the girl gave her. Swallowing down her swelling pride, she ducked out the door into the bright sunlight.
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