‘Say the word, Royal Mother.’ But it wasn’t Gunnhild who replied but Gudred.
‘No! Stop!’ He struggled up from his bed and shouted in his shrill little voice: ‘They are my friends. You are not to kill them. They saved my life.’
Haeric looked at his pale, thin half-brother. Then he threw his head back and roared with laughter. ‘I wasn’t really asking you, little brother,’ he said.
Gudred ignored him. ‘Mother,’ he said, ‘Sigrid Kveldulfsdaughter led us out from the burning Minster, Cerdic the Briton carried me to safety even though he was injured. I owe them both my life. I lack the power to repay them. You say I shall be a king. How can I strive for a royal crown if I don’t repay my debts? How can I be a king if I live without honour?’ He went up to the grinning Haeric and tried to push his sword away from Cerdic. Haeric snorted with laughter but his face froze when Gunnhild said:
‘Let them go. Leave us.’
Little Gudred, with the dignity of a much older man, knelt in front of her. ‘Mother, I thank you.’ Haeric and his henchman slouched out but Haeric snarled at me: ‘Three lives you owe me. I never forget.’
Ansgar arrived with Olvir who bent his knee to Gunnhild. Then he looked at Gudred, pulled down his lower eyelid, looked in his mouth, put his ear to the scrawny chest.
‘Strong broth made from a chicken,’ he said. ‘Add onions as well. And I need a goblet of wine and an iron poker red hot from the fire to dip into it. I’ll add what else I need from here.’ He pointed to the leather pouch on his belt.
‘And I,’ said Ansgar, ‘shall write out a prayer to tie to the poor child’s stomach.’ Olvir looked at me and winked. Then he noticed me reaching for my bag with the holy runes and shook his head.
Cerdic’s wound was superficial and he was patched up by Olvir. Every day he fed Gudred the broth Olvir had prescribed. We could hear them talking and laughing and by the end of the week Gudred was strong enough to walk around and show Cerdic the King’s hall and the stables. Gunnhild too began to look better. Olvir had persuaded her that the broth would do her good as well and whatever herbs he added to it seemed to work.
‘What was wrong with the boy?’ I asked Olvir.
‘He just stopped eating because he was unhappy, I think. So would you be in his place. He’s different to the rest. I don’t think they’re very kind to him.’
‘Do you think Kirsten made him ill?’
‘Kirsten!’
‘Yes, the dove. She turned into a dove once before. I told you about it, when Varg drowned.’
‘Sigrid, can you honestly see Kirsten doing harm to a child?’ The way he looked at me when he said that made me blush with shame. But still.
‘She hated Gunnhild though.’
‘But not the boy. Sigrid, I simply don’t believe in Kirsten as a shapeshifter. I don’t believe in her using magic to evil ends. She tried to speak with the dead but to help Gudrun, not to harm Gudred or even Queen Gunnhild. The boy was miserable and didn’t eat, he became weak and ill. That’s all there’s to it.’
‘I still have to get Gunnhild to lift the curse on my children.’
‘What exactly is wrong with Gudrun? She seemed fine at my wedding, tucked into mounds of honey cakes. I was thinking she would make herself sick.’
‘Tired, quiet, doesn’t want to do anything.’
‘What if it isn’t a curse but she suffers from the same as Gudred?’
‘Sadness, you mean? Then it’s all my fault. I should have been at home with my children but…’
‘No Sigrid, you live your life as the Norns have woven it for you. Don’t regret what cannot be altered.’
‘I have been selfish, chasing honour and glory for my own satisfaction.’
‘Well, yes, that’s true.’
‘Olvir!’ I looked up and saw that he was smiling. It made realise how pompous I must sound.
‘Sigrid, we’ll speak with Gunnhild. We’ll try to get her to set her enmity aside and then we’ll go home and see how Gudrun is.’
‘And if she’s no better, if she’s worse, if…’
‘Then we’ll think again but let’s take one thing at a time.’
We were kept waiting. Standing in the narrow passageway at the top of the stairs we could hear voices from behind the solid oak door. Gunnhild was not happy. That much was clear – abundantly so. The other voice belonged to a man. It took me a while before I realised it was my cousin Haeric. What had made him pick up the courage to argue with Gunnhild? The door opened with a pained squeak. Haeric came right up to me and stared at me. I recoiled from the stench of his rotten teeth. Unfortunately he interpreted this as fear.
‘Yes, cower, Abomination,’ he snarled. ‘You think you have got the better of me because of that little rat but I swear I shall have your head and that of your sons. Thrice you have humiliated me, besmirched my honour and denied me retribution. My revenge shall be threefold.’ ‘Oh, for shame, Prince Haeric,’ said Ansgar. His voice only just penetrated the wave of fury that engulfed me. My hand moved to my sword side. But Dragonclaw’s grip was already covered by another hand. It took hold of mine. Olvir smiled down at me and shook his head. A figure filled the doorway behind Haeric.
‘The Queen is ready to receive you,’ said Bertha. Haeric passed me and with a last hate-filled look descended the stairs. All fury drained away. It was replaced with unease. Swords I knew how to deal with, Gunnhild’s powers were different. I followed Bertha. I was determined not to beg nor to show the dislike I still harboured. Gunnhild sat in her chamber surrounded by her ladies. Unusually Eirik was there too, looking thoroughly uncomfortable in a chair carved to resemble a throne. I realised that Gunnhild had given up her own seat to her husband and taken a less ornate chair for herself. I wondered why but it immediately became clear that she had, for once decided to let Eirik speak for her.
‘Niece,’ he said, ‘it grieves me to learn that there have been disagreements between you and the Queen. I have decided to accept the apology you have travelled here to make. The Queen too is minded to be magnanimous in the matter. It shall be as if nothing had been said between you.’
For a moment I thought I would choke on my anger. Before I could open my mouth Olvir and Ansgar spoke at the same time.
‘Now that is a very Christian attitude,’ said Ansgar. ‘We all share Sigrid Kveldulfsdaughter’s gratitude to your noble Majesty.’ Olvir filled in with:
‘It is a heavy weight that your words lift from our shoulders. My foster-mother has been greatly troubled by the misunderstanding.’ Olvir pinched me and, fuming, I managed to stretch my mouth into some sort of a smile. I curtsied.
‘I would assure your Royal Highnesses of my lasting loyalty.’
Eirik got up and rubbed his hands together as if to brush off dirt from some heavy work. ‘Well, good, all things in order,’ he said. ‘I shall send for your men when I need them. When are you leaving?’
We left immediately. The only ones who were sad at our departure were Gudred and Cerdic.
‘Remember what I’ve told you, lad,’ said Cerdic, ‘things get better if you learn to accept them as they are.’ His logic was a bit beyond me but Gudred seemed to understand what he meant.
Haeric had a parting threat as we set off: ‘Remember, I shall have my revenge. Those two may have given up I but shall never forget. My brother’s blood and that of my friends still call for revenge.’ I felt his eyes follow me as we rode out through the gates.
Brother Ansgar left us at Crosthwaite. Cinedred was there, paler and more dejected looking than ever. I felt sorry for her and when I said farewell to Ansgar I asked:
‘Brother I would like Cinedred to join my household at Becklund. Do you think Father Cuthred would object?’ He shook his head.
‘Yes Sigrid I’m certain Father Cuthred would forbid her to join a pagan household. I know you were friends and you mean well but it is impossible. Cinedred’s father sent her here for the good of her soul.’
‘But she’s unhappy. Surel
y you can see that.’
‘Oh yes, and were you to come into the fold, repent your heathen ways and accept the only God, I’m sure Father Cuthred would be happy for her to join you.’
I smiled. Ansgar never gave up. But I had to leave poor Cinedred where she was.
As we approached Becklund we picked up a noise. It got stronger. Weapons banged on shields in preparation for battle. Shrill voices egging on fighters.
‘You all belong to Odin.’ The chant echoed between the hills.
‘I think your daughter has recovered her spirits,’ said Cerdic. ‘That sounds like her and her hird.’ I steered Lord of the Fells at a gallop towards the noise.
‘Gudrun! Stop that immediately.’
Chapter 10
Revenge
October 953
It felt almost strange to attend the Autumn Thing without worrying about lawsuits, wars or initiations. Even the horse race went without incident if not without surprises. Harald and Ole came in second and third on Lord of the Fells and Stargazer, so close it became a friendly argument between them for years. The winner that year was Inga who cleverly rode Rainbow to victory.
‘She’s so light and sure-footed,’ she cried. ‘She’s made for running on those slopes. Thank you, Gudrun, for letting me ride her.’ She hugged my beaming daughter.
‘When will I be old enough to ride?’ said Gudrun.
‘Never,’ said Harald.
‘Three years,’ I said.
‘Rainbow will be too old by then,’ said Harald.
‘No she won’t,’ I said. ‘Harald stop teasing your sister.’
‘It doesn’t matter, Mor, I don’t listen to him.’
‘That’s very grown-up, Gudrun. I’m proud of you.’
The household at Buttermere were not attending the Thing. Kveldulf’s and Nanna’s first child was expected within the month. She was too large to travel and Kveldulf would not leave her. Thora and Lothar decided to stay behind as well with their two young daughters. Only my nephew Swein, one of the servants and a couple of thralls joined us with produce to sell and instructions about what to bargain for. Swein, with two younger sisters, had always felt the absence of brothers. His father Lothar the Frankian had been a great warrior but the injuries that nearly killed him at the battle of Dunmail’s Rise had robbed him of vigour and Swein’s weapons practice had been left to servants and relatives. Like many of the cousins from Rannerdale he doted on Harald who was his senior by two years. But his hero was Kveldulf, the eldest of the cousins and already a battle-hardened warrior. Swein was probably the one who was most enthusiastic about Kveldulf and Nanna moving to Buttermere Farm.
‘Kveldulf’s teaching me how to use the sword for real,’ he said. ‘I get to practise every day. But,’ he gave me an anxious look, ‘I work hard on the farm as well.’
‘I know you do, Swein. You will be a man next year. What shall you do with your life?’
‘Aunt, in time I shall look for my own land. It’s what my father would have done had he not been injured and too weak to build up a farm. But first I need gold.’
I agreed. He would inherit nothing except the courage and aptitude for swordplay that ran through the veins of his adventurer father and his mother, the daughter of a Jarl and Ragnar’s sister. I hoped the Norns had woven him a future where he could find his fortune. I watched him throw himself into the games and competitions and enjoy the company of his cousins and friends.
The news of Kveldulf’s impending fatherhood brought many well wishers to my booth. Many spoke of the joy of grandchildren. It made me stop and think. I would be a grandmother. Old age beckoned. Dotage. I thought how Kirsten had scolded me for misusing my body and I had to recognise that I was no longer the strong, agile woman of my youth. Old wounds pained me and my joints ached.
I didn’t feel any better when Gudrun pointed out that there were grey hairs among the tresses I wore coiled on top of my head.
‘Nonsense,’ Vida snorted with indignation. ‘Just a few silver strands. It’s as rich and beautiful as ever. Pity about the tooth but that won’t put the suitors off.’
‘Suitors?’
‘You don’t even notice, do you Mistress?’
So I began to notice. Men bringing gifts, telling me about their farms, the trade that brought them riches, some even dared brag about their vigour and prowess. Odin’s beard, this I did not want! I decided to leave the Thing early with only a small retinue and let Harald take responsibility for returning the rest of the household to Becklund.
‘I shall stop at Buttermere for a day or two before continuing.’
‘Mor, thank you for trusting me with this. But I would ask that you take Gudrun with you. There are limits to what I can take on.’
I couldn’t help laughing at his worried face. ‘I think she’ll probably want to come with me anyway. She’ll at last be part of my hird. Anlaf and Eysten will help if you need advice.’
My warrior women accepted the curtailment of their stay at the Thing. We left early, riding at a good pace through the drizzle. By the time we approached Buttermere it was getting dark. The smell hit us first, sour, catching at the throat. When we reached the farm gate we saw the blackened remains of the burnt out hall. A tall figure emerged from the barn. He called the dogs and opened the gate. Without a word he helped me dismount. My hird held back and watched in silence. Even Gudrun was quiet. Kveldulf led me to the barn and still he said nothing. If I hadn’t borne him myself I would have wondered if this silent stranger was truly Ragnar’s son. Inside Nanna looked up from a makeshift bed, cried out and threw herself at my feet.
‘Mistress, please, it is my fault. It is all because of me. I beg your forgiveness!’
‘I’ve told you,’ said Kveldulf, ‘what your father did is not your fault. Mor, she lost our son. I think she’s not well.’
I bent down and raised the poor girl. ‘Mor,’ I said, ‘you used to call me Mor.’ I embraced Nanna and kissed her. It was as if the fire and destruction her father had wreaked, had cleansed her. The last remnant of my reserve melted away and at that moment I loved Nanna like my own child. Stiff at first, she relaxed into my arms and stopped sobbing. Over her shoulder I met Kveldulf’s eyes. He smiled his lopsided smile and mouthed ‘thank you’. Then he led Nanna back to her bed by a small fire and pulled up a stool for me to sit.
Three men and one woman, servants and thralls, crowded round the makeshift hearth. They all wore bandages on their hands and arms. A couple of small children lay curled up under a pelt. One of them sat up, hollow eyed and pale.
‘Aunt Sigrid,’ she said. I picked her up and sat her on my lap, mindful of her burns. ‘They are dead,’ she whispered. I saw a third child lay uncovered, feverish, his body burnt and blistered. Someone had put crushed leaves on his burns but I thought more in hope than expectation. Neither Thora nor Lothar were among the survivors nor the elder of their daughters. I had lost them all and the child in my arms was orphaned.
‘Your brother will arrive in a few days,’ I said and rocked my niece. ‘I shall look after you both. You shall lack for nothing.’ But it felt like empty words.
Helle came in followed by Gudrun. ‘We’ve rubbed down the horses and put them among the trees for shelter. We will bed down in the stables. It’s quite warm. Gudrun helped. Do you want her here or shall she stay with us?’
Gudrun came over and kissed her cousin. But then she said:
‘Mor, I’d like to stay with the rest of the hird.’ She looked very serious and I gave my consent. Kveldulf came and sat next to me.
‘Nanna was awake,’ he said. ‘The baby kicked and she was restless. We made it outside. I killed two and injured more. The rest of the nithings left. There were only three of them left. I tried to follow but it was dark and… Well, I found Nanna. She’d been violated. You understand. The baby came. It was a boy. My son.’
‘Kveldulf, you must put this behind you. It’s not Nanna’s fault.’
‘Oh no, I don’t blame her and I will
not let it stand between us. That’s what that nithing wants. He shall never win. But it’s hard.’ He blinked back tears.
‘Don’t say any more, Kveldulf. I understand.’ I also understood then that I had to kill Kjeld Gunnarson. I had to kill him before he killed my son and his own daughter. I was filled with a cold, calm anger.
‘I waited for you, Mor,’ said Kveldulf. ‘I thought you might know where I should look for Kjeld Gunnarson.’
I realised he had the greater claim. ‘How many were they?’
‘Seven, including Kjeld. I killed two and Lothar got one.’
‘That leaves Kjeld and three more. We’ll go together,’ I said.
The next morning I was able to see the damage to the farm. In a corner of the yard loose soil showed where graves had been dug. I looked at Kveldulf.
‘Lothar, Aunt Thora and one of my little cousins, three of the servants. We found them burnt covered in wounds.’ I pictured Lothar running out of the burning hall, carrying his youngest daughter and trying to wield his sword at the same time. A low keening escaped me. But there was no time to mourn. That would have to come later.
‘My hird can start clearing up,’ I said. ‘We’ll need a couple of rakes.’ He walked towards the door.
‘Don’t go in yet, Kveldulf,’ I said, ‘the rafters may not be strong enough. It could all come down. We’ll need to look closer at the roof.’
‘I did,’ he said, ‘the turf has not burnt. I think the roof-timbers have survived. Look here. The walls along the sides are stone. It’s only the doorway and the ends that have burned. The rafters are safe.’ He was right. The roof timbers were black but looked whole. The planks lining the ceiling were worse and the turf had collapsed into the hall in places. Nothing that couldn’t be mended.
Inside it was all silence. The thick layer of ash rose in small clouds around our feet as we moved. Every now and then cinders crunched under a thick sole. Kveldulf kicked something over.
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