God's Daughter (Vikings of the New World Saga)

by Heather Day Gilbert

  “Coming, Magnus.” I take the large basket in both hands, feeling Finn’s gaze on my back as I shut the flap.

  Outside our door, three women trail along behind Magnus like little ducklings. Deirdre and the two slave girls. So all the younger women are safe and accounted for, except Freydis.

  We walk silently to the creek. As we begin scrubbing our clothes with our horse chestnut soap, I finally ask about Freydis.

  Deirdre's only too happy to share. “Ref said she never came home last night. But I told him she can certainly take care of herself.” She gives a short laugh.

  “It's not like her to run from danger.” I rub at Finn’s dark blue trousers, a little too harshly.

  Deirdre falls silent, thinking. The sun reflects off the water, lighting up her white hairs.

  I continue prying. “I heard a cry last night. Was it Freydis?”

  “No, a slave was attacked, in Nerienda’s hut. She fought him off, though. Hallstein did it, the fiend.”

  I don’t mention the scratching outside my hut last night. Perhaps Hallstein tried to get in through the midden door, then gave up.

  “Your Karlsefni came.” Deirdre’s tone is hushed. “He pulled the old man off the girl and held a knife to his throat, saying he’d be dead if he didn’t leave today. Hallstein was too drunk and tired to argue. Stupid old oaf.” She curses in Scottish.

  So Finn reached the slave girl in time, but not me. Whoever scratched at my midden heap could have gotten in. And, if Finn knew Hallstein was too drunk to fight, why did he spread that chainmail over me? Was he worried about the yellow-haired man?

  “Still, it’s not safe for Freydis to be out in her condition.” I wring the clean clothes and place them in the empty basket.

  Deirdre gives me a look, which seems to say, “Better her than you, my friend.” She, too, puts her washing aside and unclasps her shift to wash herself. Her milky white skin speaks of lush green hills and druid’s chants.

  “She's like a sister to me, because of Thorstein.” I struggle to unclasp my own shift. Deirdre helps me with the gold brooch, and her fingers enclose mine.

  “I know this,” Deirdre says. “But she needs no protection.”

  “Nor do I.” My voice raises, and Magnus turns toward us. As I pull my hand away, my brooch slips into the cold water.

  Immediately, Deirdre hands me her soap and kneels, fingers searching the murky creek bed. I can’t escape her loyalty, even when I am upset with her.

  In a couple of moments, she straightens up, triumphant, with the dirty brooch between her fingers. She rinses and rubs it several times before handing it to me.

  “I know how you feel about Freydis.” I begin to shiver in the cold water. “But she's still with child. And that makes her vulnerable, even if she doesn’t understand that.”

  Deirdre nods, looking out to sea.

  I continue washing my shoulders and arms. Deirdre offers to wash my back, because the other women are already dressing on the bank.

  I lower my voice. “I will go to the woods now, but you can’t tell Finn. He'll be distracted by Hallstein and his men today.”

  The soap moves over my spine as Deirdre answers, simply, “Yes.”

  I look at my hands, a golden tan now, since the sun shines brighter in this land. We brought no mirrors here. I wonder if I look the same as I did in Greenland. My hair has grown, surely, but has my face altered greatly? Leif loved my eyes, saying they were soft and green as the mosses in the forests. He had smiled as he said it, one side of his mouth crooking down slightly, like his sister’s.

  Deirdre squeezes water over my back, bringing me into the present. I have to find Freydis. I finish washing, then dry off on the bank with the others. Magnus motions for us to be still, then points toward the woods. The wolf stands at the edge of the trees, observing us. Magnus drops his hand to his sword.

  “No.” I cover his hand with mine. He obeys immediately, crossing his arms instead.

  As the wolf watches us, I wonder if her presence portends something else, as it did with the Skraeling boats. Finally, she turns and runs into the woods—as good a place as any to begin my search for Freydis.

  “I have to gather berries.” I turn to Deirdre, handing her my clothes basket. She nods briefly before trailing Magnus and the women back toward camp. Even though she heard Finn’s command for the men to gather berries, and even though she knows I have no basket to put them in, Deirdre won’t go against my wishes.

  It's not hard to follow the wolf. She moves slowly into the forest, as if she knows I’m behind her. Still, I keep a healthy distance between us. She leads me into an area I’ve never seen, pale green with thick ferns. It’s a sort of clearing, with trees arching overhead. I half expect to find runic stones standing around, it seems so hallowed.

  The wolf stops near a tree. In its branches, I catch a familiar flash of red.

  “Freydis!”

  She's obviously tired, from the way she drags herself down, clinging sideways to the slim trunk. Thankfully, she wasn’t up very high. But no woman with child should have climbed that tree in the first place.

  “They found him?” Her voice is hoarse.

  “Who?”

  She leans against me, looking confused.

  “Hallstein? Yes, Finn found him and told him he has to leave today.” I try to comfort her. “Did you see him last night? Where were you?” I pat her head, like she's a small child.

  “No, Hallstein? No.” She sighs loudly, sinking into a sitting position. “I need food.”

  “Of course.” I search the underbrush for berries, finding none. I hesitate to leave Freydis on the forest floor with my wolf around, even though she's nowhere to be seen.

  Freydis senses my distress. She picks up several fern fronds. “I can eat these leaves for now.” I’m surprised she knows they're edible.

  I wait until she’s eaten several, then help her to her feet. We walk back in silence. Since she's so exhausted, I hesitate to ask more questions. “Maybe Hallstein has shipped out,” I say. As much as I doubt this, I hope for it.

  Sunlight blinds us as we emerge from the forest’s shadows. A group of men stand near the longhouse, Hallstein speaking loudly in the middle. They fall silent as we approach, then raise fingers and point.

  “There she is! We call for an Althing meeting!” Hallstein’s voice grates on the air.

  I pull Freydis to a stop, almost tripping her. She grips my arm and whispers. “No matter what they say, it’s not true.”

  “What’s the meaning of this?” Boldness fills me and I become chieftain’s daughter once again.

  Finn takes my other arm, giving me a clouded look. “She has been accused.”

  “Accused? Of what?” I focus on Hallstein. “She’s been hiding in the forest from your men!”

  A sneer twists his face. “Oh, she wasn’t afraid of my men, Gudrid.” The way he says my name, so intimately, makes me want to strike him down.

  I stare into his dark, hateful eyes. “Then what do you accuse her of? She did nothing wrong!”

  His lips curl as he returns my stare. “That woman slit my man’s throat last night.”

  Chapter Six

  Freydis' knees give way, and Finn reaches around to hold her up. Ref pushes his way through the crowd and grabs his wife by the waist. As the men press closer, I recognize the one advantage we have—their ignorance.

  “As long as she is with child, she can’t be accused. This is the old Icelandic law.” I move in front of Freydis, hoping my words alone will shield her.

  The men fall back, and Finn’s eyebrows raise. No one questions my understanding of the old laws, since my father was a chieftain, and so was Eirik. None of these men had the status to attend the Althing meetings, except Finn and Snorri Thorbrandsson.

  Hallstein stumbles toward us. His bony finger points again. “Blood for blood, that’s the only law I know.”

  “Old man, you should be packing your ship.” I wrap my fingers around my seax, and his
eyes widen. I’m not such a soft woman after all. “Although it won’t be your ship for long, once Leif hears you've accused his sister of murder.”

  The men fall silent, considering my words. Finn moves closer. “Gudrid speaks truth, Hallstein. It’s time for your men to go. Your man was outside my hut, with his own knife in his hand. Doubtless, he planned to attack my wife.”

  I tremble as he says the words, trying to contain my surprise. So the dead man was found near our hut.

  Snorri Thorbrandsson steps up beside Finn, showing support. “We’ll bury him properly. But you go now, or we’ll force you out.” He holds up his fist, a symbol of the hammer of Thor and of judgment. All Finn’s loyal men hold up fists, joining him. Hallstein knows better than to cross Snorri Thorbrandsson, a man well-known for his fearlessness in Iceland and Greenland. Once, when he was shot through the neck with an arrow, Snorri simply broke off the end, pulled out the arrow, and sat down to eat his evening meal. He bears the scar to prove it.

  Hallstein turns, muttering something to his men. Some go to the huts, others to the ship to continue loading. I stare at his hunched back, wishing I could kick it to the ground.

  Ref walks Freydis back to their hut. Finn tells two of his larger men to follow them for protection. Then he grabs my arm, walking me deliberately toward the forest. He drives me off the path, into some brush, before he speaks.

  “Where were you and Freydis?”

  “She was in the woods, and I went to find her.” I yank my arm away.

  He clenches his jaw. “Hallstein’s largest man was found behind our hut, on the midden pile. His throat was slit, and Hallstein says it had to be a curved knife like the one Freydis uses. Maybe she saw him out back and killed him. You know how quietly she can walk.”

  Yes, I do know this. The facts make sense. But the way Finn is talking to me does not. It’s as if he’s trying to convince us both that Freydis killed the man. True, it’s nothing for her to kill—she enjoys it. And I know she would kill for me. But she told me Hallstein was lying before she even heard what he had to say.

  In the forest, the first words out of her pale mouth were, “They’ve found him.” I’d thought she was talking about Hallstein, but she was talking about the dead man—and how could she know he was dead, unless she was there when it happened?

  Finn strokes my hair, but his gaze rests on the camp behind me. “I knew you were in danger last night. There was talk of unrest among the men.”

  Fury rises in me. Why didn’t he come into the hut with us? Where was he when we needed his protection? His hands move over my arms, but I pull away.

  “We must go back.” I'm suddenly chilled, thinking of the many violent things Hallstein could have done to me—could still do before leaving. Even the Althing laws may not be enough to stop such a spiteful, gnarled man. What if he tries to hurt our son?

  “Of course.” Finn looks at me, waiting for something. He is tired from leading these brawling men. But he doesn’t realize how much power he wields over them. He has kings in his bloodline, and the men instinctively feel his royalty. Finn is a stronger leader than my father was, or even Eirik the Red. The steel in his disposition could shatter the iron most of these men are made of. When his mind is made up, no one would dare go against him. No one except me.

  As he strokes my hair, his rough shirt slides down, revealing the end of the tattoo on his upper arm. He got the tattoo when he traded in the Arabic countries. I love seeing the Midgard serpent, Thor’s greatest enemy, wrapped around his arm. The serpent bites its tail, like the oceans surrounding the earth—a fitting tattoo for a sailor.

  I touch the tattoo, lightly. Finn catches my hand. “What’s this law you spoke of? About a woman with child?”

  “There is no such law.” I continue caressing his arm and raise my eyes to meet his gaze.

  A curl drops over his eye, and he brushes it away. He pulls me roughly into his chest. “My little skorungur." His lips press against my forehead.

  Reluctantly, we leave for camp, where we find Hallstein’s ship loaded and ready to sail. It’s one of Leif’s larger cargo knarr. If Hallstein doesn't fill it with goods before he returns it to Leif, he will never sail again.

  I pray that Finn finds Vinland in the south, so our return to Greenland will be honorable. Brattahlid is the one place on earth I feel completely unafraid, largely because of Leif. He is fiercely protective of me, and has been since I've been in his charge. When he talks with me, he always knows the right questions to ask, bringing out stories I've never shared. My disloyalty to Finn makes me sick. He stands right beside me, unaware of these poisonous thoughts.

  I give Finn a final touch, then we return to the longhouse. Outside, Freydis rocks back and forth, rubbing her stomach. I walk toward my sister-in-law, drawn to her sadness. When I hug her, her eyes are empty, as if she’s never seen me before. I lead her into the longhouse, hoping to find soup to warm her.

  Instead, the dead man is laid out on a bench near the table. The women wash his large body. His eyes are closed, but his fist is still clenched. They've removed his knife.

  Nerienda prepares the herbal infusions to rub on the body. I, too, know these ingredients, from my days spent as a volva, but the oldest woman in camp prepares bodies for burial.

  She shuffles over to me as my eyes sweep the body. A long, darkened gash mars his neck. Without a word, Nerienda touches my hand, and I know what she’s asking. I nod, and Inger puts a dampened white cloth on the wound, pulling it up over his face. Freydis doesn’t need to look at this man again. I want the ground to swallow the evil in his body. I want him out of the camp.

  “We'll take him beyond the forest,” I say.

  The slave women gasp. Several men will have to neglect chores to move this large body to the outer edge of the woods. And it won't be a proper burial, as Snorri Thorbrandsson promised. But I won’t have Freydis going mad from looking at his grave every day.

  “No.” Finn stands in the door frame. The sunlight lights up the little hairs on his arms, making his hair look as light as mine. Freydis puts her hand on his arm, like a child waiting for judgment.

  “The body can’t be in the camp. And so we will burn it.”

  Chapter Seven

  After the preparations, Deirdre brings Snorri to me for feeding. I'm thankful to escape the smell of death and step into the sunlight. Finn stays in the longhouse, speaking with the women. Hallstein’s ship still lurks in the inlet, like a beached whale.

  I overhear Finn saying the dead man had been sick. I never saw any signs of this, but Finn knows no one will argue with him. He's lying, probably because he knows I want to protect Freydis.

  Finn also says he won't prepare the corpse for the otherworld in the pagan ways, burying goods and animals with him. And yet, the funeral pyre is an honorable tradition, reserved for noble men. This wicked man’s pyre will use up much of our precious winter wood.

  Snorri Thorbrandsson looks me full in the face as he walks into the longhouse, his bald head reflecting the sun’s rays. Although burying the man with no goods will make him a liar to Hallstein, Snorri Thorbrandsson won’t disagree with Finn. His lot was cast with my husband when this journey was only a dream, discussed over bonfires at Brattahlid. Finn even named our son after him. Snorri has taken so many voyages, he fears nothing—not a watery grave, not Skraelings, and certainly not Hallstein.

  Snorri’s orange-red beard reflects his fire-starting ways. Even though he's older than Finn, he has the strength and determination of a young man. Snorri and his brother feuded with the wrong people in Iceland, so they were banished. They became merchants, traveling to Greenland to collect walrus ivory. When Snorri’s brother died of illness, Finn stepped in as his new trading partner. Sometimes I think Finn became Snorri's replacement brother, as well.

  Back in our hut, I sit to nurse my baby, lost in the past. Finn doesn’t know Snorri asked me to marry him shortly after Thorstein died. That long winter, Snorri watched my every move at Brattahlid, h
oping for a favorable answer.

  But Eirik realized that Finn, who came from a wealthy family, was a better prospective husband for me. Finn impressed Eirik when he shared his beer and supplies that lean winter. So Eirik encouraged me to accept Finn’s offer, knowing I would be well provided for. He also hoped we would stay on and live at Brattahlid, sharing our bounty with him.

  “I promised your father I’d watch out for you if anything happened to your husband,” Eirik had said. His eyes shared the smile on his lips. “But who knew I’d care for you so much? I married you off to one of my sons to keep you in our family, then he went and died. And men keep asking for you, Gudrid. So I have to pick the best of the lot. Thorfinn Karlsefni’s the best. And I’m trying to talk him into staying here to gather more ivory.”

  Eirik wanted me to live in Greenland forever, because I softened his relationship with his wife, Thjodhild. She and I could talk together of Christianity. And Eirik and I could talk about everything else. Thorvald Eiriksson once told me, “I don’t honestly know how those two ever married, Gudrid. But you bring a space between them. We can all breathe when you’re around.”

  Leif didn’t stand in the way of my marriage to Finn, because he was married himself. He’d been tricked into marrying Gunna of the Hebrides when she discovered she carried his child. All his gifts couldn’t buy her silence. She wanted to be married to a chieftain’s son, and she knew Leif wouldn't leave his child fatherless.

  Snorri's coos bring me back to the present. He plays with his hands instead of nursing, grinning up at me. My stomach grumbles of its emptiness. I hope Freydis has eaten by now, but in her nervous state, I doubt it. Maybe Ref has brought food into their hut. He cares for her in such a tender way, even if she doesn’t deserve it.

  I kiss Snorri all over his face, then walk to the door. When I pull back the deerskin flap, one glance shows the inlet is empty—Hallstein's ship has gone. I thank God, because the threat of mutiny has sailed with that ship.