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

by Heather Day Gilbert

  She reaches out for an embrace, and I know Leif spoke the truth. She missed having us here.

  “Gudrid! My daughter! I must see your child! And the others?”

  “They’re coming—talking with Leif, Mother. They’ll be here soon.”

  “No, I mean these other children. Whose are these? I can see enough to know they’re not your blood.”

  The coldness is still there, then.

  “Native children from the new land. They are now my children.”

  So she brings it into the open first thing. Very well, if I must explain it to her now, I will.

  Stena’s warm presence beside me gives me strength. Thjodhild must have decided that having Thorvald’s children around, even with their Sami mother, was better than having no grandchildren nearby.

  Instead of resting against the doorframe again, Thjodhild stands completely still. Nothing moves, not even the air. We wait. Hellir and Hol are oblivious, playing chase with Stena's children.

  Thjodhild is not going to move, no matter how uncomfortable she is. I hold Snorri out to her. She takes him, her stooped back straightening. Her pale eyes look deep into his. He must see something he likes, because he smiles and starts saying “Mmmaa.”

  Leif, Finn, and the others top the hill, ready to join us. I wonder how much information Finn has given Leif about the boys. I suspect it’s precious little.

  “Well, Mother, how about a meal for our conquering sailors?” Leif asks.

  Now, as Eirik's widow, Thjodhild must decide whether she will make a show of hospitality or not. Leif may run Brattahlid, but it belongs to her.

  Her eyes meet mine, even as my child jabbers, then buries his face in her shoulder. I hold her gaze.

  “Ja, of course! Saldis, Dalla, set out our meal.”

  Two slaves peep from the door before scurrying about in the longhouse. Most likely, they were listening the entire time, awaiting their command.

  I motion for Hellir and Hol to come to my side, and we all walk in to the table. Leif outpaces Finn to sit beside me. Snorri Thorbrandsson and Linnea come in behind us. There will be room for everyone to eat here, because one of the first things Eirik did in Greenland was to build the biggest longhouse anyone had ever seen.

  As Finn sits, his men surround him at the table. Leif sits alone at the head, with me on one side and his mother on the other. I want to know where his wife is, but I can’t think of a tactful way to ask. Leif’s son, Gils, watches unhappily as his father gives me delighted looks. I don’t want to be that woman. I try talking with Stena, on my other side, but she’s very quiet. Leif pretends Stena doesn’t exist and keeps asking me questions.

  “Your man told me of the haul you brought back. But two of my ships have gone missing, you know.” Soup drips from his spoon onto his embroidered mustard-colored tunic as he waits for my response.

  “Did he also tell you about Hallstein and his dishonorable behavior? He’s the one who took your larger ship and left. His big, yellow-haired man—”

  “Yes, I know the one. Built like a tree. Vani.”

  “He tried to attack Linnea. Although he might have been looking for me—” Leif interrupts me again. “She does look like you...funny, isn’t it? I thought that might come in handy over there.” His slanted grin is endearing, but he doesn’t understand.

  “Listen to me!” I get closer to his ear. “That fool was determined to go north. And we didn’t stop him, since he was splitting up the camp. There would have been mutiny.”

  “Of course. Calm down, Gudrid. I won’t hold that against Thorfinn. I can spare that ship, I suppose. And I do hope someone turned Vani into a corpse.”

  I have missed Leif’s forthright way of saying things. Freydis has a similar way of talking, though her words often bite.

  “Yes, someone did.”

  “Hm.” Leif’s gaze travels around the table, as he guesses which man it was. He doesn’t know the murderer could be his own sister, and I pray no one tells him. It would bring dishonor on the family name, as yet unscalded by vengeance killings in Greenland.

  We drink from Thjodhild’s good Rhine glasses. Every glass has a different swirling color. Leif’s glass is golden amber, like the perfect wheat we brought back. Mine is green, like the sea today, or like my son’s eyes.

  After the surprisingly sparse meal, Thjodhild rushes off to her own little chapel that Leif built for her. Leif tells me she spends most of her time there. “She’s probably praying God will forgive her for the many times she refused Father.” He watches for my smile, but it’s slow in coming.

  He studies me a moment. Though he tries to drop his voice, it’s still rich and clear. “Something has changed over there. Didn’t I provide enough help for you?”

  Feeling someone else’s eyes on me, I turn slightly. Both Snorri Thorbrandsson and Finn watch our conversation. Finn’s men are laughing and eating more than they should, and the women are moving off to the cooking area, sharing gossip and playing with the children.

  “Too much has happened. Sometimes I wish I never went along.” There, I’ve spoken the truth that’s tortured me into silence with Finn. And I don’t care if the others are watching. At Straumsfjord, Finn never noticed when men talked and flirted with me openly. Why should he care now?

  Leif’s observes me under light lashes, same as his mother’s. I’m pulled into his gray-blue eyes, deep as the fjords. His freckles stand out a bit, sprinkled over sunburned cheeks. His gaze doesn’t waver, pulling my emotions to the surface easily. I look over at my children to compose myself.

  “And so, it’s nice to be home.” I can’t think of anything important to say.

  “I’ve been waiting for you,” he says. Then he stands, hooking his smallest finger over the back of his chair before tossing it aside. “We’re glad to have your crew home, Thorfinn Karlsefni.”

  Finn’s lips are tight, but he smiles to acknowledge Leif. Once he smiles, his men shout, “Hear, hear!”

  After the meal, Leif takes Finn and me to a house on the farm. Its thatched roof is well-kept, its boards tight against the winds. I would expect no less, since Leif is attentive to details, unlike his father, who traveled most of the time.

  “Here’s our house!” Leif gestures grandly, ignoring Finn’s angry glare at the back of his head. “Don’t know if anyone told you we have to share houses at Brattahlid now? Mother’s latest idea of charitable living. You’ll be with Gunna and me.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Most of the men at Brattahlid don’t appreciate Leif’s humor, and Finn is no exception. This little joke about us sharing a house with him rouses the sleeping anger in my gentle sailor husband. Finn’s hand drops to his knife. I quickly step between the men, covering Finn's hand with my own.

  “Ha, ha—very funny, Leif. I know your mother better than that,” I say. Finn relaxes his grip. If he decided to kill Leif, I couldn’t stop him.

  “And I’m sure you know Gunna wouldn’t share her house, either!” Leif turns back toward us with a grin, unaware of Finn’s reaction. “That woman is proud as a queen, I’ll tell you that!”

  Finn won’t respond to that remark, since insulting one’s wife is generally looked on as cowardly unless she’s done a great wrong. He turns toward the hill and mutters something about getting our cargo from the ship.

  When Finn’s out of sight, I scold Leif heartily. “You can’t joke with Thorfinn that way—you know this!”

  “Well, I can’t help it if your husband’s overly touchy about his fair wife, can I?”

  Gunna approaches us, her face hidden under her fluffy cloud of red-blonde hair. Her stride is deliberately slow and she carries herself stiffly.

  “Your son needs help with the sheep.” She looks from Leif to me, flipping her hair out of her eyes. “Why, Gudrid! You’re back already?”

  Unlike Leif, Gunna never jokes. Her words are almost always hurtful. I think it has something to do with the way she’s stuck in Greenland, far from the Hebrides, where her father’s
wealth and her family’s land opened every door.

  I force a smile. Halldis always told me Smiles carry more power than hateful looks. “Yes, it’s so good to be back at Brattahlid. I can’t tell you how much I’ve looked forward to it.”

  Leif still stands, solid as a rooted tree, at the door of our hut, wearing the stubborn look he only gets with his wife. He won’t go help his son, because it would mean giving in to Gunna’s command.

  “Well, thank you so much for showing us the house, Leif,” I say. “Don’t let me keep you from helping Gils.” I turn back to Gunna. “My, how that boy has grown. Have you had other children, too?”

  She shoves her hair out of her face, exposing slanting hazel eyes focused on me like a forest cat. “No more children.” She acts as if I'm strange to think she would want more.

  Leif is tired of being ignored, and in two strides he takes Gunna’s arm. “Let’s go find Magnus, since he’s the shepherd around here.” They walk away and he sharply rebukes her. Things are still rough between them, even after all these years.

  I stand alone on the hill. The sun slants in a way I’ve only seen in Greenlandic skies. I’m here, I try to convince myself. I’m surrounded by the trees and fields and rocks I’ve longed for. I’ve seen the man who’s haunted my dreams for years, and he still cares for me.

  However, all I can think of is Skraeling skinboats, sliding up in the water. I see the small blue head of Freydis’ son as she kisses him. I see my wolf, her yellow eyes staring, no longer able to protect me. And I feel Snorri Thorbrandsson’s hand on mine at the bonfire.

  Can I ever be happy where I am, with my own husband? What is wrong with me? And why do I always search for a protector? Freydis, the wolf, Snorri, Leif…even Finn. He brought us all back to Greenland, where he knew we would be safe. And now that we're here, he acts hostile toward Leif, complicating everything.

  We only had one winter at Brattahlid as a married couple, before leaving for Vinland. When everyone eats under the same roof and shares chores, men can’t help but notice the women, and Leif and Snorri Thorbrandsson watched me tirelessly. But Finn was excited about our trip, and he didn’t notice it then.

  Men often compare the wives on the farm. Who’s the best cook? Who has the best figure? The best face? Who gets along best with the parents?

  Women spend time comparing, as well. Who’s the bravest? The tallest? Who fathers the most children? Who can kill fastest?

  Some avoided these kinds of talks, like Stena and Eirik. But talking is the best way to get through the long winters in Greenland. Talking and drinking. I don’t imbibe in either one, since I’ve seen the destructive results of both gossip and mead.

  My mother-in-law and Gunna used to pass the time talking about once-wealthy families who’d lost land or status. It gave them a sense of power, because Eirik’s farm was doing well and probably always would be, with Leif managing it. He was born to fight and farm. But such talk never sat well with me, because my own father had lost his position when his farm failed.

  Freydis wakes me from my thoughts, spinning up to me with her arms outstretched, hair flying in the breeze. She has dark circles under her eyes, but other than that, she seems happier.

  “Well, I caught up to my brother,” she says. “I told Leif about being accused of murder and losing my boy, and…that is all."

  Of course she didn’t tell him about Suka and his attempt to kill us at the caves. Leif would probably ship a man over to hunt him down, if he knew of it.

  “I’m planning a return trip, maybe next summer,” she continues. I can’t believe she thinks of leaving so soon. Did Leif make her feel guilty over the murder?

  “You need time.” As a healer, I know this. She’s not well yet.

  “I’ll over-winter here, and that will be enough. I’m sure Leif would let me take a ship, and Ref could find more wheat and wood, maybe grapes….”

  Her eyes are somewhat glazed, her energy almost unnatural. My mushrooms should be sitting in my locked box, but it’d be just like her to figure out a way to sneak into it. I’m disloyal to think this way. But I worry about Eirik’s strong-headed forest child.

  “I need to find my husband.” She cuts our talk short, then belies her words by flitting away from the ship where Ref unloads. She’s trouble waiting to happen, I fear.

  I take a last look at the sky and go into our hut, noticing the lock on the dark wood door. The extra security pleases me, as does the house itself. It is very cozy, with tapestries on the wall and gold cups and ceramic vases sitting on trunks and tables. I laugh when I notice our bed is framed by the very maple headboards Eirik feuded over. Leif probably put those here on purpose, just to amuse me.

  After reveling in the rich details of the room, from the alabaster statues to the feather-stuffed pillows, I go to find my boys. Though Hol and Hellir are nowhere to be seen, I find baby Snorri in longhouse. He stands in one of Thjodhild’s copper pots on the floor, clapping and dancing around for her. The unreserved look on her face tells me he’s melted her hardness. I sneak out, determined to find my older boys.

  Linnea talks with Snorri Thorbrandsson near the longhouse. He turns to look at me. I ignore the intensity of those amber eyes, smiling at both of them before walking down the hill.

  I hear the shouting long before I reach the sheepcote—the deep, heated voices of Finn and Leif. My throat feels dry. Surely they’re not fighting over me?

  But Finn stands in front of my boys, Leif in front of his son. All three boys are bruised and bloody, but Leif’s Gils looks like he got the worse end of it. And Gils doubtless attacked first, from the look of hatred on his face.

  Finn shouts, “We won’t stay or share goods if this is the welcome we receive!”

  Leif moves too close to Finn’s face. “Why are these Skraelings here? Their kind killed my brother! Why’d you even let them live?”

  I step in, trying to speak reason into their thoughts. “Leif, it was my idea. They’re just children—my children now. They will be helpful for the next journey.”

  Leif kicks his black leather boot against the heel of the other, as if trying to restrain a kick to Finn's leg. “There may not be a next journey,” he says. “I’m missing two boats and many of my men. I can’t afford such a costly risk again.”

  “What? Thorfinn brought back more goods than you did! And we’ve avenged your brother’s death. Fifteen Skraelings are buried outside our camp in Straumsfjord.”

  “Thanks mostly to my sister.” The way he half-grins at me makes me want to stamp on his big feet.

  “You weren’t there; you don’t know the whole—”

  Finn interrupts me. “Either the boys live with us, as our children, or we leave.”

  Once Finn determines something is right, no one can argue against his reasoning. It’s obvious that Leif’s dislike for these young boys is pointless, having nothing to do with Thorvald’s death. The men who have been unloading the ship must have seen Gils’ attack, and they're quick to step up and join Finn. Magnus even leaves the sheep and sidles over closer to him.

  Leif, even with all his physical strength, doesn’t hold the loyalty of his men like Finn does. He’s often careless with their preferences. I remember how Suka told me Leif was sometimes good to his slaves. But not good enough for Suka to return.

  Gunna comes running down the hill, hair flying back so we can see her furious looks.

  “Gils! Your face!” She glares at Leif, who happens to be the only one trying to defend her son. She grabs Gils’ arm and pulls him up the hill with her, even though he’s taller than she is.

  Leif reacts to her disrespect by giving in to Finn’s demand. “Very well. We’ll consider them your children. I’ll talk with Gunna and make her understand.”

  Rage flickers across his face. I’m afraid make her understand might mean beat her senseless. But surely Leif wouldn’t do that?

  Finn turns to the boys, hugging them briefly before sending them to me. His eyes meet mine for a moment, and the
y’re dark as obsidian. I’m thankful the two most powerful men in Brattahlid didn’t start warring today, forcing a departure the same day we arrived.

  The boys look like they will only have bruising from the fight. Hol's fist bleeds a bit, but he’s had the good sense to stop the flow with his tunic. Both boys smile at me for the first time. Maybe now they understand I care for them.

  Later that night, after wrapping Hol's fist and putting cold cloths on the bruises, we return to the longhouse for the evening meal. A golden bell rings for mealtimes here. In Thjodhild’s house, during evening meals, men, women, and children sit at their own tables. Thjodhild’s eyes widen as Hol and Hellir take their place with Stena’s children, but she says nothing.

  Gunna prepares a plate for her son. I walk to her side slowly, like I’m approaching a wild animal. She probably waits to pounce on my first misspoken word.

  “Is he badly hurt?” I ask, summoning up more boldness than I feel.

  “What do you think? Your Skraeling brats attacked him like the dogs they are.”

  My face flames, betraying that her darts have hit. But I won’t give her what she wants.

  “I’m a healer, you know. I’ll help, if you need me.”

  “We have our own healer here, with more powers than you, volva.” She tosses her plume of hair.

  As my face burns even hotter, Snorri Thorbrandsson takes my arm, walking me to the back of the room before I can react. “Step lightly.” He grits his teeth, probably wishing he could hit Gunna himself. He’s trying to help me.

  “I understand,” I whisper.

  Snorri makes a big show of motioning a slave over for a second platter of fish for the men. “We can’t get enough of these Greenlandic fish of yours, Leif!” He shouts down the table. “How do you cure them? You must have loads of salt!”

  The mood of the room lifts, all eyes shifting to Leif at the men’s table. Stena puts her arm in mine, walking me back to our bench. At least I have one woman friend I can trust here, besides Deirdre, and she’s supposed to be my slave. I look for her, suddenly realizing she and Linnea probably eat in the slave’s longhouse now.