A Sacred Storm

by Theodore Brun

  Why did he do that? Lilla asked herself, over and over. Each time, the same answer. She had no claim over him now. Yet her mind couldn’t leave him alone. His absence from the hall haunted her like a ghost.

  It was late. The formal toasts had been delivered long ago, but now came speeches inspired by drink and ill-judged loquacity. The first of them was an embarrassment. Her new brother-in-law, Prince Thrand, took to his feet, apparently to insult every noble, Dane or Sveär, who came into view or mind.

  The high folk bristled, at least those that were listening, but her husband eventually cut short his brother’s ramblings, persuading him in a word or two to resume his seat and keep his misguided remarks to himself. Instead, Ringast extolled her father for the honour done him and his kin, and the new age between their two peoples that lay ahead. ‘Now we are all brothers,’ he declared, though she imagined few there believed it.

  ‘Well said, cousin, well said indeed,’ her father began, rising to answer, only to be overcome by a violent bout of coughing. Before he had recovered, Queen Saldas stood, slipping her arm through his.

  ‘My lord husband,’ she murmured, ‘allow me to answer for both of us.’

  Her father sank, defeated, back into his chair. ‘Very well, my dear.’

  Saldas looked out over the heaving crowd and a hush seemed to settle over the mead-hall. ‘The dawning of this new age of brotherhood brings great joy, dear prince.’ Ringast nodded dutifully. ‘But I confess a shadow still hangs over my heart. The sadness of separation from this dear daughter of mine.’ Her smile fell on Lilla. ‘In four short years, I feel our spirits have become one. Is it not so, daughter?’

  Lilla smiled obligingly, wondering what Saldas was up to. The queen never did anything out of whimsy alone.

  ‘And yet there is a way to ease this parting.’ Saldas gazed graciously down on the new couple. ‘I will ride with you to the border and there we shall say our farewells. I trust this will signal the depth of my love for you and the sorrow I feel in losing you. Do I have your blessing, dear prince?’

  ‘Undoubtedly, Lady Saldas.’

  ‘And yours, my lord husband?’

  Lilla looked at her father’s weathered face. He was fairly beaming at his young wife. ‘My beloved queen,’ he croaked. ‘You speak of sadness, but it fills my heart with joy to hear you talk like this. I should like nothing better than to accompany you on this journey.’

  But Saldas took his hand and pressed his knuckles to her lips. ‘My lord, I could wish for nothing more. But, alas, I fear you’ve played the host too well these last days.’ His sweat-flecked brow furrowed with a questioning look. ‘Who knows better than I the burden of the sickness you bear?’ She laid a graceful hand on his shoulder. ‘It is enough. You must rest.’

  Her father opened his mouth, perhaps to object, but instead his chest tightened into a new series of coughs. At length the fit passed. ‘A king is loath to admit he needs to retire to his bed. But you are right.’ He turned to Lilla. ‘Will you forgive me, my child?’

  Lilla didn’t say anything. The sham of it was all too sickening.

  ‘Of course,’ Saldas continued, ‘I shall need an escort for my return. If my husband cannot ride with me, let me take the man to whom all of us owe a vast debt – including you, dear prince.’ She smiled at Ringast. ‘If not for his courage, Lilla would not be here for this happy day.’ Her green eyes scanned the crowd until she gave a cry of delight. ‘There!’ she pointed. ‘The Aurvandil! Our own shining wanderer.’

  And there he was, half-hidden in the shadows. A space cleared around him. She was surprised how painful it was to look on him. ‘Who better to ride with me?’ Saldas declared. ‘Even our beloved Lilla could think of no better choice. Is it not so?’

  Saldas let her smile rest on Lilla while she waited for a reply. The whole company was waiting.

  At last Lilla nodded. ‘It is a good choice.’

  ‘Then it’s settled!’ cried her father, beaming. ‘And settled well.’

  Saldas bowed her head to her husband. ‘I drink this toast. To my daughter and her prince!’

  The hall echoed her words with a clamorous cheer.

  Lilla looked out over their faces, all flushed with ale and goodwill. She saw only one man who did not drink with the rest, and at that moment she would have given all she had to know what was passing through his thoughts.

  But no one marked him. They saw only their queen – tall and serene, splendid as Freyja herself, in beauty and grace.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  In summer, it was a journey of two days to the edge of the Kolmark forest. On the first day, Prince Ringast rode at the head of the column with his two brothers, while Lilla rode her mare a little distance behind. Queen Saldas rode next to her.

  They hardly spoke. Lilla didn’t want to speak – to anyone. It had been a painful parting from her father, and from her little brother and sister, too. He had sent her off with his love and blessing – though what currency they held in a land ruled by King Harald Wartooth and his sons remained uncertain.

  ‘You’ve won the peace we both wanted,’ were his final whispered words. Aye, she seemed at least to have done that. But what had she lost?

  As for the other riders, they let her alone, most of them nursing sore heads. Erlan rode further back, beside the queen’s handmaiden, Bara. The girl said little beyond the odd complaint about the rain and – when Saldas was out of earshot – why they had to make this journey at all.

  Lilla wanted this journey over too, but for reasons other than the rain. That look... That callous look across the hall, in which she saw the vast chasm that had opened up between them.

  Part of her wanted to turn around, to look into his face and see – truly see – him for the last time. But instead she gazed out over the sodden rye fields that shone like silver in the rain, and at the dripping linden trees standing silently by the wayside as they passed.

  The second morning dawned on a damp land, but the sun rose high and hot. Spirits lifted as cloaks and tunics dried out and Ringast’s men were soon throwing around jokes as usual. Saldas was content to ride beside Lilla, enjoying the sun on her face. For all her declarations of affection, she offered not a word to lift Lilla out of her melancholy.

  At length, Ringast dropped back. ‘Anyone would think you were riding to your own execution.’

  ‘I’m sad to be leaving my homeland. That’s natural, isn’t it?’

  ‘I assure you, your new land is much like this one.’

  ‘But it can never be the land of my blood.’

  He snorted. ‘Well, if the gods are kind, it’ll be the land of your sons soon enough.’

  ‘As you wish.’

  ‘As I wish? By the hanged, woman – don’t you wish for it, too?’

  She didn’t answer.

  ‘It’s time to drop this forlorn face, my wife. It hardly does me credit.’ He touched his horse’s flank and trotted back to the head of the column.

  Ringast was right. She sat up straighter and did her best to look cheerful. After all, what had she expected? The road was there ahead of her, the road she always knew she must walk.

  Wife to a king. Mother of kings.

  That other road – Erlan’s road – was a road she had forsaken. It had never been hers and now it never would be. And as for her heart... surely it could not ache for ever?

  Not if she kept walking.

  Early in the afternoon, a line of trees crept over the horizon. The sun wasn’t much lower when the track rose to meet it before disappearing into green shadow.

  ‘Lady Saldas,’ called Ringast. ‘Be ready to say your farewells. My realm begins on the far side of that ridge.’

  ‘I shall ride with her to the end. No one shall say I turned too soon.’

  ‘So be it.’

  The canopy closed overhead and they soon climbed as far as the ridge-line, after which the road began to fall away. Ringast called a halt. ‘We part company here.’

  ‘If it must
be... Will you grant me just a little longer with her? In private?’

  The prince levelled his gaze at her, then snapped an order. Two riders dismounted and helped each lady down. ‘A hundred paces that way, there’s a clearing.’ Ringast pointed into the trees. ‘There’s a rise there. A good place to say goodbye to your land.’

  Lilla nodded gratefully.

  The mound blistered, small and rocky, out of a clearing that sloped northwards towards Sveäland. Lilla scaled its weather-worn crown and from there looked north. The forest fell away below her. Beyond it she could see for leagues over the patchwork of strip-fields, edged by ditches and blooming hedgerows. The farmland shimmered green-gold where the barley ears had begun to turn.

  She heard a trickle of stones behind her, then stillness. She didn’t look back.

  ‘You will miss it.’

  ‘Yes.’ Tears started welling, but she caught them, swallowed them back. Something settled on her shoulder, so light it was a moment before she realized it was Saldas’s hand.

  ‘You mustn’t despair.’ For once, her voice was soothing. ‘This is change, nothing more. Your marriage is only another season in another place.’

  Lilla closed her eyes and wished for her own mother. Wished there was someone who could bear to hear the truth from her. But there was only Saldas. Only this moment.

  ‘It’s hard... to go to a new place. To be joined to a new lord. One whom I do not love.’

  ‘A woman seldom loves the man she marries. Even so, he is a strong man. You may come to love him in time. You’ll find happiness, I am sure. It’s only when a woman marries one man but loves another that life proves unendurable.’

  Saldas could hardly have picked words more crushing, though she couldn’t have known it. ‘I feel so weak.’

  ‘You’re too modest.’ An edge had crept into Saldas’s voice, and not a kind one. ‘You have much power, my daughter.’

  ‘Power?’

  Saldas laughed – a metallic click in her ear. ‘A woman’s body is her power. With it, she can make any man lie down like a dog at her feet.’ Lilla tried to turn, to see in her face whether she was in earnest, but the grip on her shoulder tightened. ‘But you know this...’ That snigger again. Fingers digging into her flesh. Lilla winced. ‘After all, you made Erlan your dog, didn’t you?’

  Lilla gasped, tried to wriggle free, but the queen’s hold was strong. She re-doubled her efforts until Saldas suddenly shoved her forward, laughing with scorn. Lilla fell to the ground, the rock cracking her kneecaps.

  ‘Did you really think you could keep a secret like that from me? What a curious creature you are! You waft around like an innocent flower then fall on your back like a mud-whore for the first man who dares defy your father and show you some attention.’

  Lilla felt the blood draining from her face, a hard knot of fury twisting in her belly. Slowly she got to her feet.

  ‘Oh, but it’s love, you’ll say,’ Saldas sneered. ‘How disgustingly predictable! How easily you deceive yourself! What you feel is the basest of desires.’

  ‘You – are – unspeakable,’ Lilla whispered.

  ‘Unspeakable? You should be thanking me, my beloved daughter. Someone had to protect your virtue, since you wouldn’t do it yourself.’ Her voice was acid. ‘It was the kindest thing I could have done to persuade your father to give you to Ringast.’

  ‘What?’ Lilla choked. ‘You persuaded my father of this?’

  ‘It was my duty.’ Saldas smiled. ‘As your mother.’

  ‘But my father,’ Lilla stammered. ‘I did this for his kingdom. For him!’

  ‘His kingdom?’ Saldas’s beautiful face curdled in disgust. ‘What is his kingdom worth after his humiliation? Men won’t serve a man like that for long. You’re both of you fools. Your sacrifice, as you call it, did nothing more than satisfy me. Whether your father stands or falls is of no consequence – though I doubt he’ll keep his crown for long. If not him, another man will rise. A stronger man. One who will desire me and will doubtless be as easy to control.’

  ‘You are hateful. I curse the day you ever came to my father’s court.’

  ‘A little late for that, my dear. Besides, your father has had his uses. But now he’s had all the use he ever will of me.’

  ‘If anything should happen to my father—’

  Saldas threw back her head and laughed, her pale neck shining golden in the falling sun. ‘Are you going to threaten me? You? Our innocent little flower?’

  Lilla grimaced. She suddenly wanted to get away from this woman, away from her cruel face and poisoned words. ‘You may heed this warning or not,’ she said. ‘I care little which. But if I hear you’ve raised so much as a fingernail against any of those I love, I will come for you. And there will be a reckoning between us.’

  The queen’s scornful expression wavered for a second. But it soon gave way to another mocking laugh. ‘The luck of Frey in that, dear daughter. The luck of all the gods if you ever dare set yourself against me.’

  But Lilla was already stumbling down the ancient blister of rock. At the foot of the mound she stole a final glance northwards, out across the land of her fathers, wondering what thread the Norns might weave to bring her back to her beloved homeland one day. Then she gathered up her skirts. Her husband was waiting. And for now, her road must lead to Dannerborg.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  ‘May you serve your king well.’

  Those had been her last words to him, said in a voice stiff as bark.

  ‘As you have, my lady,’ he’d replied. It was unnecessary, churlish even, but he couldn’t help it. And he saw in her eyes the barb had caught.

  He had watched her ride after her husband, watched the whole column take to the road, watched until all sound of them had faded to nothing, and with it any tenderness, any love he had left in him. The last of it had ridden away in the heart of that golden-headed girl.

  Saldas returned a little while after, sauntering through the brush. ‘A sad parting,’ she had said, though she didn’t look sad. ‘So now it’s just we three.’

  They took the road north, three horses in procession, three riders in silence, until a few leagues later Erlan called a halt, saying they should find shelter. ‘It’s getting dark and the rain may return.’

  ‘It seems a fine evening to me,’ Saldas replied, shielding her eyes against the westering sun. The lower half of her face was bathed in its golden colour. Midges danced around her like embers. The edges of her were glowing, as if she might suddenly catch fire.

  He shook away the image. ‘Wet or dry, we’re better out of the wind.’

  There was a copse set a little back from the road on a rise. Erlan kicked ahead and led them under the birch and ash trees into a small clearing close to the southern edge of the little wood. Once they had dismounted and unloaded their gear, they set about making camp. Bara arranged the cooking utensils and got a fire lit, humming a tune that was popular about the halls just then. Meanwhile Erlan erected three shelters – insubstantial things, but enough to keep off the rain if it returned. His own he placed a little distance from the others.

  ‘Thirsty work?’ He looked up from pinning down the last corner of his shelter. Saldas was offering a horn. ‘Honey-wine.’

  ‘I had my fill the other night.’ He finished tying off the rope.

  ‘Oh, Erlan,’ she replied playfully. ‘Are you really too proud to be served by your queen?’

  He looked her up and down. ‘I guess I’m thirsty enough.’ He took the horn and drained it in one, its sweetness sticky on his lips.

  ‘Was that so hard?’ She smiled. ‘Tonight we lay aside our differences. Agreed?’

  He peered at her, still suspicious, but said nothing.

  ‘It’s ready, my lady,’ Bara called, spooning a steaming broth into three bowls.

  The green eyes lingered a moment longer before Saldas turned away. ‘So let us eat!’

  Bara passed around the bowls, then pulled apart a flatbread and
handed out the pieces. Erlan was hungry. He fell to eating at once, tasting fowl-flesh, marjoram and wild chervil. ‘It’s good,’ he mumbled between mouthfuls.

  ‘Indeed,’ Saldas agreed. ‘Who needs all the trappings of the Great Hall? This does just as well. Better, even.’

  ‘You’re too kind, my lady,’ said Bara.

  ‘Not at all. Here. A drink to wash it down.’ She took the mead-skin and filled a horn for Bara, then refilled Erlan’s vessel too. ‘Perhaps our escort can amuse us with some tales of his wanderings. Or some song his servant boy has taught him.’

  ‘A song? I wouldn’t want to spoil your supper. As to stories... How about we hear your tale, Queen Saldas?’

  ‘My tale?’ She seemed wrong-footed, as though the question had never been put to her before.

  ‘Aye,’ he said, finding he was genuinely curious now. ‘How came you to be wife to a king?’

  She leaned back and gazed into the night, amusement teasing at the corners of her mouth. ‘Trapped by my own words! All right, I shall tell you, though it hardly makes a tale.’ She laughed, almost girlishly. ‘Why, I don’t even know where to begin!’

  ‘Begin where we all begin. With your birth.’

  ‘Very well. I come from the north. My father was a huntsman of the Sami blood. He often used to say how, long ago, his people came from far, far to the east. From a different world – of sand-blown wildernesses, bright mountain peaks and salt-marsh seas.’

  ‘Was he rich?’

  She snorted. ‘If you mean in gold – no, he wasn’t rich. The Sami don’t value gold and silver like the Sveärs. But he was wealthy according to our ways. He owned more reindeer than any man of the Northern Forests. And more slaves, too... My mother was one of them.’

  Something must have shown in his face, because her eyes fixed his, challenging him. ‘Does it surprise you? That the daughter of a slave should be married to a king?’

  ‘A little.’

  ‘Her parents sold her to my father for twenty head of reindeer. A good price, they thought. But he got the better deal. She was a plain child but she grew into a striking woman. I witnessed it myself. She was only twelve when she had me.’