‘But I’m here and you know your Far fell bravely in battle and you can be proud of him.’ She nodded.
‘Yes, I know I must be brave too. But sometimes it’s a bit hard.’
Thorstein came running from outside. He crawled up to sit on my knee.
‘I knew you’d come,’ he said and his smile warmed me.
One by one the household came to greet me; from Orm and the other hirdsmen to the youngest little thrall child. Each in their own way expressed their sorrow at the loss of Ragnar. I thanked them all; I was moved by the sincerity in their voices and could not keep my tears at bay. We drank many toasts to Ragnar’s memory. The hirdsmen outdid each other in their tales of the raids, the battles and the feasting. Although I knew much of it was exaggerated and some of it plain lies, it felt good to listen.
We named and praised all the fallen hirdsmen. I promised to pay compensation to their families and we drank more toasts. But my women kept looking at me and eventually I rose and said:
‘You all see that Unn Bjalkesdaughter has not returned with me. She fought with honour and found a swift death with her sword in her hand. We shall remember her and tell of the many times we witnessed her courage.’ There was much nodding and murmured agreement. Unn had been respected among the warriors, I hoped she would hear their praise from where she sat at Odin’s table in Valhalla. Then the general talking and reminiscing continued.
I was spent and welcomed Kirsten when she said:
‘Sigrid Kveldulfsdaughter, I need to look at your wounds. The sauna should be ready now.’ Her voice did not invite contradiction. I was grateful for that.
Moments later I bit back moans as she pulled and prodded, tut-tutting and shaking her head.
‘You cannot continue to misuse your body like this. There are limits to how much it will take. This shoulder will never recover fully. Your knee with the old wound is swollen. And your tooth! Well, you won’t turn the heads of the men at the Thing with that smile, so Ragn… Oh. Oh, Sigrid I’m sorry.’
‘I forget too. I keep wanting to tell him things.’ We both cried and her hands were gentle as she washed and dried my hair and helped me dress. She led me back to the hall and tucked me in between my two younger children. I needed no help from herbs to sleep that night.
Autumn 952
It took me a long time to recover. As if to compensate me for my hardship the gods looked favourably on the farm that summer. Cheese and butter arrived down from the shieling. Haymaking was easy in the dry weather. The familiar rhythm of the farming year helped calm my mind. I decided it was time for me to do some visiting. I had received news that Ylva had given birth to a girl and I was eager to inspect the new arrival. I rode with the men I still thought of as Ragnar’s hird. My fostrings looked so disappointed and had so many messages for Ylva I had to bring them too. Keskadale was a prosperous farm and I reasoned they could afford a larger than usual number of guests. I also asked Kirsten to come and to bring her son.
‘It will be nice for him to meet his cousin,’ I said. Kirsten agreed and got the lad dressed in his best suit of clothes.
Eysten greeted me with his daughter in his arms. He was near delirious with pride.
‘I get to hold her when she needs feeding,’ said Ylva. They laughed and the way they looked at each other filled me with a mixture of happiness for them and a stab of grief for my own loss. Ylva had grown into her new place as mistress of one of the most prosperous farms in the area. I had never worried about that. She had a natural dignity that made people respect her. Eysten handed over the baby for me to hold and I couldn’t help laughing at the thick red hair that already covered her head.
‘Another little Flamehair,’ said Eysten.
‘I brought her cousin,’ I said and beckoned to Kirsten to bring Cub. He bent his knee to Eysten and Ylva.
‘I rode the whole way here on my own horse,’ he said. ‘Harald has given me my own pony. Is that my cousin?’
‘Yes,’ I said, ‘would you like to hold her?’
He nodded. ‘I won’t drop her. I’m quite used to babies. She’s not very big is she?’
‘She’s only twelve weeks old,’ said Kirsten.
‘Will she have brothers and sisters?’ The innocent question made Eysten blush and Ylva laugh out loud. I realised that Cub had grown up in a large boisterous household where babies were regarded as everybody’s joy and responsibility. Servants and thrall-women had children who played, carried out chores and made mischief together with mine and were praised and chastised the same. Cub was not long past the age when children began to be treated according to rank, given different tasks and taught their place in the household. Just as Kirsten occupied a special place so did he.
I could see Eysten paying close attention to Cub. The boy was the son of his youngest brother. I wondered if bringing him to Keskadale would have the result I was hoping for. I also wondered if Kirsten had guessed my intent. If things worked out, I hoped Kirsten would, one day, be happy for Cub to be fostered by Eysten and Ylva. But for now it was enough for them to get acquainted.
I had another purpose with my visit. News of my return had spread and I had received many visitors. But nobody spoke about the battle Unn and I had stumbled upon and where Ragnar had been killed. The subject of the Cumbrian muster under the English banner was avoided altogether. I appreciated that by pretending not to know, people showed me that whatever had passed, I was not tainted by having fought on the ‘wrong’ side. But it bothered me because how could I honour Ragnar with a proper grave-ale, raise a stone and listen to his name being praised in poetry if his last battle was treated as a shameful secret?
I knew that Ylva would tell me the truth.
‘The preparations were very slow,’ she said. ‘There was a lot of arguing about how many men we could be expected to send. I’ve never known so many accidental injuries, so much illness. In the end they were too late to take part. I’ve never found out why. People just don’t speak of it, not even Eysten has said much. It’s like everyone’s embarrassed. I understand that King Eirik and his Orkney Jarls won a decisive victory.’ So, I thought, Ansgar’s lie had worked. He had kept the Cumbrians out of the battle. Nobody from here had seen Ragnar fighting for Eirik and Wulfstan.
‘It’s time for Harald to be initiated this year isn’t it?’
‘Yes, it is. I’m hoping for an uncomplicated celebration this time. As far as I know he’s not courting.’
‘So, Kveldulf and Nanna finally got each other.’ Her voice was searching. She knew it hadn’t been easy for me.
‘Yes, and I think I’m getting used to her.’
We sat in silence for a while. But I knew I had to tell her about Unn and my own guilt in the way she met her destiny. It was a hard thing to admit to.
‘But Sigrid, you know as well as I do, Unn would have got killed like that sooner or later. The Norns wove her a short and tangled weft. If anything you helped her find a place where she fitted in. Remember how she was treated by her family. It was because you taught her to fight and let her prove herself that her father finally accepted her. The whole thing was a tragedy but not of your making.’
I hadn’t thought of it like that. Her words made me feel better. Maybe this was what the Christians felt like after confessing their sins.
Eysten had taken to Cub and wanted to discuss fostering straight away. While Ylva took my warrior women to look round her new home, he and I spoke.
‘He reminds me of Njal,’ he said. ‘It would be right to have him here.’
‘I think so too but it is Kirsten’s decision.’
Kirsten came towards us leading Cub, or Varg Njalson as he should be called, by one hand and carrying a bundle in the other. She stopped and looked at us. Eysten bent down bringing him face-to-face with Varg.
‘So what do you think of Keskadale, Varg?’
‘It’s a very big place, but I like it. I have been here before, you know. I don’t remember but I have.’ Eysten looked at Kirsten.
> ‘He was with me when I looked after your father before he died.’
‘Of course, yes, I remember now. Bose was most put out that you preferred Njal to him.’
‘There never has been, nor will there be, anyone but Njal.’
Eysten nodded. ‘I was fond of him. Your son is much like him. If it suits you I would have him for my fostring. I would like you to consider it. There’s no hurry.’
‘I have already thought about this. I guessed Sigrid Kveldulfsdaughter’s intent when she brought us here. As your fostring Varg will have a better future than I or, for all her kindness, Sigrid can give him. I shall miss my son but I think it is for the best. I thank you.’ She began to untie her bundle. ‘I have brought gifts. I don’t have much but I want to do this properly.’ She pulled out a silver amulet and three arm-rings, one made of gold the other two of silver. ‘They were Njal’s,’ she said and handed them over. Eysten caught his breath and took the amulet.
‘Mother’s,’ he said. ‘She gave me, Bose and Njal one each just before she died. He was only about three. He kept it all that time?’
‘He gave it to me when he left me to go and seek his fortune. That’s how I knew he’d come back for me and Varg.’
By now I was in tears. It took a while before I could ask: ‘How did you know I wanted Eysten to foster Varg?’
‘You brought us but none of your own children, so I knew you planned something they wouldn’t like.’ She smiled. ‘I am grateful to you, Sigrid, and to you Eysten Mordson. I know Varg will have a good future here.’
Eysten sat Varg on his knee, he and Kirsten swore oaths of mutual support and loyalty, and so it was done. He brought gifts for Kirsten; a roll of finest wool cloth, a set of tweezers, ear scoops and a needle-case and a brooch to hang them from, all worked in finest filigree silver. I discerned Ylva’s influence in the gifts; not so lavish as to embarrass the proud young woman and all of practical use.
The company that evening was large and boisterous. My hird and Eysten’s knew each other well and some had fought together against the Saxons more than once. Here for the first time I was able to speak of Ragnar.
‘But Sigrid,’ said Ylva, ‘many of us here would have sooner fought for Eirik and Jorvik that for the Saxon King. It always felt wrong to join with our old enemy against men we had fought side by side with in the past.’
‘That is very true,’ said Eysten. ‘We should thank our gods that we missed the battle altogether even if it felt strange at the time. Ragnar Sweinson was the greatest of all the great warriors I have known. I thank Odin that we were never on opposite sides on the battlefield. If Thorfinn had been here he would have composed one of his drapas about Ragnar.’
‘Let’s all be grateful he’s not here then!’ said Orm and those who had known Thorfinn sniggered and nodded.
That set us all off and we spent the evening reminiscing and drinking toasts to all the brave warriors any of us had ever fought with – and one or two we had fought against as well.
Time was catching up with me. Harald was of age and prepared to be initiated as a warrior at the Thing. As he seemed to do with everything, Harald took the event in his stride. He attended Lawman Leifr’s instructions, took part in a few competitions and responded to challenges to swordplay and wrestling. He was tolerably successful but his interest lay elsewhere. He and his friends were busy preparing for the horse race. Lord of the Fells was the obvious choice and Gudrun agreed to let Inga ride Rainbow. No other horse from our stable was ready. Ole was distraught but had to concede that Harald had the greater call on a mount. His disappointment, however bravely born, upset Harald. In the end I relented.
‘Harald, I have decided that you can enter North Wind in the race.’ Did I just hand him the world on a plate? He hugged me until I pleaded with him to allow me to breathe.
‘Mor, I shall make you so proud of me.’
‘I already am, Harald. Just stay safe, that’s all I ask. I assume you’ll ride him and let Ole have Lord of the Fells. I’m not sure North Wind would accept anyone else.’
‘Oh yes, I shall ride your pride and joy and we shall win.’
***
At the starting line, I couldn’t stop myself admonishing the young riders.
‘Please be careful. Inga especially, Rainbow is still a bit skittish, hold her back. Don’t put yourself in any danger. And Ole, I know you and Lord of the Fells have done this before but…’
‘Mor, please!’ Harald held me by both shoulders and looked me in the eyes. I caught my breath and realised I was making a most unseemly fuss. I, who had always followed my own mind, was nagging my warrior son and his friends.
‘I’m sorry, Harald. Ole, Inga forgive me, I know you can do this.’ Why was I so frightened? Why did I carry this dread in my breast? Kveldulf and Nanna arrived. ‘Calm down, Mor,’ said Kveldulf and led me away. Gudrun giggled and followed us to our usual vantage point.
The race started well. In the excitement I soon forgot to worry. I was impressed with Inga. She used a light touch on Rainbow who responded well. The sure-footed little mare made her way up the slope and was among the first to cross the beck. Gudrun shouted so much encouragement at her horse I was sure the gods in Asgard must hear her. North Wind and Lord of the Fells looked like they raced each other. At the top of the slope they overtook Rainbow and began descending.
‘They’re going too fast,’ I said. ‘They need to rein in the horses or they’ll stumble at that pace.’
‘No,’ cried Gudrun, ‘go, go, go!’
‘It looks a bit wild,’ said Kveldulf and put his arm round Nanna who had covered her eyes.
Lord of the Fells edged ahead. North Wind wouldn’t like that, I thought. Two other horses were in the running and there was a clash when North Wind tried to push his way between them. Harald tugged at the reins but North Wind increased his speed. The ground on the upper slope was full of rocks, scree and shrubs. All four horses slid and slipped. Inga on Rainbow saw what was coming and slowed down. She just managed to avoid two stallions who tripped each other up and fell in a jumble of kicking hooves, swishing tails and raised heads with their teeth bared in fear and fury.
‘Who are they?’ Kveldulf ran and I followed. We were joined by others. While struggling up the slope I noticed Lord of the Fells and another horse continue along the track. I could see Inga using a thong to hobble Rainbow. Then she ran towards where one rider slowly rose from the ground. I couldn’t see Harald. The unknown rider got his horse to rise and walked away, limping and holding his head. Where was my son? Why had I let him ride North Wind?
‘Over here,’ Inga waved. She knelt by a body. I heard someone scream and when Kveldulf put his arms round me realised it was me.
‘Harald, Harald!’ I threw myself on the ground next to Inga.
‘He’s alive,’ she said. ‘He’s breathing.’
‘Harald, speak to me!’ My words rasped their way through my constricted throat. I stroked his cheek but he didn’t respond. ‘Odin, Odin, help me,’ I chanted while desperate tears fell on the silent face of my son.
Olvir and Anlaf arrived with a makeshift stretcher and, with as much care as possible, we carried Harald to the booth. When we set him down he looked up. ‘Mor,’ he whispered. Then he closed his eyes again and a tear rolled down the side of his face.
Kirsten looked him over. ‘He’s coming to,’ she said. ‘Look at me Harald, look at me. That’s it. Good. That was quite a tumble you took.’ She helped Harald sit up and gave him a drink that made him pull a face and cough.
He looked round and saw me. ‘Mor,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry. I’m a half-wit. I wasn’t able to control him. He just went.’
‘At least you’re a live half-wit,’ I said and kissed him. ‘I definitely prefer that to a dead one.’
‘Where’s North Wind? Is he injured?’ asked Harald. I looked around. I had no idea where my horse was. It was Thrall Toki who replied: ‘I’m sorry, Mistress Sigrid, North Wind …’ his voice trailed off.
<
br /> ‘Looked like he broke his neck,’ said Olvir. ‘I just got a quick look before we left. I’ll go back and make sure. Do you want to come, Sigrid?’
Harald struggled to get up from his stretcher. ‘No,’ said Kirsten, ‘not you Harald. You need to rest.’ But not even Kirsten could stop Harald so supported by Ole and Inga he stumbled along on unsteady legs.
We found North Wind where he’d fallen. Olvir was right; his neck was broken. I allowed myself to be reassured that he would not have suffered.
Thrall-Toki sidled up to me and cleared his throat. ‘Mistress, I was thinking we shouldn’t leave him here for the foxes and the crows?’
‘No, you’re right, Toki. Will you see to it?’ He nodded and pointed to a couple of lads to help him. They waited until I turned to go. I was grateful not to have to watch my beautiful horse being butchered.
I was prey to conflicting feelings, guilt that I had allowed Harald to ride North Wind, sorrow at the loss of my beloved horse and relief that Harald was not seriously hurt. I tried not to dwell on how it could all have been very different.
Back at the booth I remembered to ask: ‘Ole, how did you fare in the race?’
His smile was subdued. ‘Well, actually, I won. Lord of the Fells was very determined.’
‘And, I’m sure, you were too. Why didn’t you say at once?’
‘It didn’t seem right what with Harald and North Wind and all.’
‘We shall celebrate,’ I said and ordered a sumptuous meal with mead and ale and sweetmeats. Harald was very quiet. He felt it keenly that he’d caused the loss of North Wind and I had to reassure him again and again. At first my words of comfort were formal but then I told him:
‘Harald, North Wind was special to me but he was only a horse and, however valuable, he can be replaced.’ As I said it I realised that I meant it. A voice at the back of my head pointed out that it was a pity I hadn’t understood that a lot earlier.
Harald had a few days to recover before the initiation ceremony. He had a lump on his head, he was bruised and had sprained his ankle but nothing to prevent him taking part. I was a shivering wreck. Eysten tried to reassure me.
Honour is All Page 24