Viking Passion

by Speer, Flora

  “Wise? Never!”

  “Don’t you see? Snorri is the oldest child. He will inherit all of Thorkell’s goods, including his slaves. I do not want to belong to Snorri. I am Thorkell’s woman. I want to be with him. This is my only hope.”

  “Erik could buy you. We could be together.”

  “Do you really think Snorri would sell me to Erik? He’s too vicious to do such a kind thing. You know what he will do to me, out of spite.”

  “No, no.” Lenora leaned her head on Edwina’s shoulder and wept.

  “It’s all right,” Edwina said. “I’m perfectly happy. I don’t mind at all.” When she stood up, Lenora noticed how pathetically thin she was.

  “Edwina—”

  “I must return to the feast. We must eat and drink every night from now until the funeral.” Edwina went out without a backward glance, her two companions trailing after her protectively.

  “She’s mad. I know she’s mad. They can’t hold her to a promise she made out of grief. Freydis. Freydis will help me.” Shaking with weakness, caught in the grip of a terrible nightmare, Lenora dragged herself out of bed. “Freydis will be in the kitchen, or perhaps the great hall if the feast has begun. I have to find her.”

  With desperate determination, Lenora made her way through the cold dusk toward the kitchen. She could barely stand and had to stop frequently to rest against the buildings along the way. At last, her meager strength nearly dissipated by her efforts, she clutched at the kitchen door and, pulled by its weight as it swung inward, she lurched into the warm room.

  Freydis, in her best gown, with all her jewelry on display, was giving orders to the slave who turned a spit on which hung the carcass of a sheep. She whirled at the draft of cold air.

  “Lenora, what are you doing here?”

  “Freydis, you have to stop it. She’s mad; you know she is. You said so yourself. Don’t let them burn her. Please, please.”

  “If you mean Edwina, she has given her word to go with Thorkell and that is the end of it. If it is a comfort to you, know that she will be dead before she is burnt.”

  “She has lost her wits. She didn’t mean it. You can’t let them do it.” Lenora swayed, holding herself upright by clinging to the edge of the door. “Please, Freydis,” she begged again.

  “I can do nothing. Go back to your bed.”

  “Erik will help me. Where is he?”

  “Erik is at the feast, and I will not let you disturb him. Here, Erna, help Lenora to bed, and then come right back here. I’ll need you to carry in the mutton.”

  Crying uncontrollably, Lenora retraced her steps on Erna’s arm.

  “Poor Lenora,” Erna hissed in her ear. “It was foolish of you to miscarry just when Erik needs a woman to sit with him every night for the funeral feasts. But Erik and I celebrate life without you.”

  “Leave me alone,” Lenora screamed. With her last bit of strength she slammed the cabin door in Erna’s face and bolted it shut.

  Chapter 12

  The next morning Lenora forced herself out of bed again and went along the path to Thorkell’s chambers. She found Erik in the room where they had so often worked with his father. It seemed strange not to see Thorkell’s tall, white-bearded figure seated at the trestle table. She wondered briefly where Thorkell’s body was. She was afraid to ask.

  “What do you want here?” Erik showed no sign of affection toward her. “There is no work for you here any more.”

  Lenora sank onto a bench, feeling lightheaded.

  “Please don’t let Edwina die,” she begged. “She is my friend. She is all that is left of my home and my family. Help her, please.”

  “The choice was Edwina’s and it was freely made. There is nothing I can do.”

  “She didn’t know what she was doing when she decided.”

  “I cannot change anything. ‘Odin made it a law that all dead men should be burnt,’ ” Erik recited, “and one of the dead man’s people must go with him. It is an honor for Edwina.”

  “How can you allow this? You told me you were a Christian.”

  “I am only a provisional Christian so I can trade with the Greeks.”

  “I don’t understand that.”

  “It doesn’t matter what you understand. Nor does it matter what I believe. Thorkell was a Danish chieftain, a king’s jarl, and he will have a worthy funeral. It will be done as he would have wished it.”

  Lenora looked into Erik’s pain-filled eyes and knew he would not help her.

  Although still weak, she made herself help with the preparations for the feast that evening, and she assisted with the serving. She still believed there might be a way she could save Edwina. She would not chance missing any opportunity by hiding in her bed.

  The men drank steadily, as though they were deliberately trying to get drunk. There was much overloud laughter. Coarse jokes were told and men threw bones and pieces of food at each other like naughty boys. Thorkell’s seat was empty, but Gunhilde sat next to it, looking smug.

  “She is saving Snorri’s place,” Tola said. “When he comes home he will surely be elected chieftain, and in any case, he will inherit everything. I’m glad I’m Freydis’ slave and not Thorkell’s.”

  “What do you think Erik will do now?” Lenora roused herself from her concern over Edwina to ask the question of this woman, who had been friendly toward her.

  “Who knows?” Tola shrugged. “Erik never reveals his plans. But I don’t think this hall will be large enough for both of them without Thorkell to keep the peace. You had better be careful.” Tola nudged Lenora’s ribs. “Erna has been taking advantage of your absence.”

  At that very moment, Erna was sitting on Erik’s lap, trying to feed him a morsel of meat while he shouted to a man across the room.

  Even Halfdan, who never looked at any woman but Freydis, was fumbling at the skirts of a serving wench. He sat with Erik on the carved and painted settle across the firepit from Thorkell’s old seat, and as he reached after the woman, he nearly fell out of the chair. This brought raucous laughter from all the men.

  Lenora turned away in disgust. Freydis, coming out of the kitchen, sent her a knowing look.

  “It means nothing,” Freydis said. “They are always like this after a death. It is their way.”

  “It is not my way,” Lenora answered.

  Erik appeared in the house they shared only to change his clothes. He scarcely spoke to Lenora and would not listen to her continued entreaties for him to save Edwina.

  In addition to her deep concern for her friend, Lenora desperately needed Erik to comfort her in her grief over the loss of their unborn child. She longed for him to put his arms around her and tell her that he cared too. He seemed indifferent to her pain. Lenora tried to excuse him, telling herself he had his own grief over Thorkell to deal with, but she could find no excuse for Erna’s frequent appearances at Erik’s side. Lenora had trusted Erik, and now his apparent infidelity was one more pain for her to bear.

  In the three days remaining before Thorkell’s funeral, Lenora felt she was walking through a deepening nightmare. No one would listen to her. No one seemed even to understand what she was saying. There seemed to be no way to save Edwina, and yet Lenora would not give up hope.

  Edwina herself was unusually cheerful. She ate and drank heartily. Whenever Lenora tried to talk to her she appeared to be drunk. Lenora suspected Edwina was being given special herbs to make her so happy, but she could not discover what they were.

  Two days before the funeral, the volva who had prophesied at Snorri’s wedding feast reappeared, now dressed in dusty black robes.

  “What is she doing here?” Lenora wondered aloud.

  “She is the Angel of Death, come for Thorkell and Edwina,” Erna answered. “She will supervise the final arrangements for the funeral. It is she who will dress Thorkell in his new clothes. And,” Erna added maliciously, “it is she who will kill Edwina.”

  Lenora shivered and left the great hall. She could not be
ar to look at the old woman and could hardly endure Erna’s presence.

  The day of Thorkell’s funeral dawned with a silver-bright sun glaring down on the ice and snow left by the most recent storm. High clouds began gathering early in the day, presaging yet more sleet and freezing rain.

  Lenora, consumed by thoughts of the horror the next day would bring, had not slept until it was nearly daylight. She was pulled into groggy wakefulness by a loud knocking on her door. It was Erik, with Halfdan by his side.

  “Get up,” Erik told her. “You have to leave.”

  “Leave?” she repeated stupidly, rubbing her swollen eyes. “Where am I to go?”

  “Freydis said for you to go to her chamber. Hurry.”

  Lenora did not understand what Erik was talking about, but perhaps, she thought, still half-asleep, just perhaps, he had found a way to save Edwina after all. She would do as he asked without making a fuss.

  “I won’t be long.”

  Erik and Halfdan waited outside until Lenora stepped through the door, fully dressed. Half-blinded by the brilliant, low-slanting winter sun in her face, she did not see Edwina and her two companions until her friend stood next to her on the path.

  “Edwina!” Lenora threw her arms around the slender girl, hope changing to near-certainty. “Is it all right? Are you safe now? Can we go away together? Can we escape? Is Erik going to help us after all?”

  Edwina’s cool little smile stopped the rush of questions. On this day Edwina was perfectly sober and quite calm. She spoke and moved with great dignity.

  “All is well, Lenora. I am going away, but you must stay behind. Go with Halfdan.”

  “Why with Halfdan?” Lenora asked, still not willing to understand. “What about Erik?”

  “Do as I bid you. Farewell, Lenora. Always remember that I love you.” After a quick embrace, Edwina turned to Erik. She said quietly, “I am ready. I will follow all of your instructions.”

  Erik nodded. “Take Lenora away, Halfdan.”

  There was no resisting the gentle but determined pressure of Halfdan’s large hand on her arm. Lenora was propelled down the path toward Freydis’ chamber.

  “No,” Lenora said, trying to twist her arm free. “I’m going with Edwina.”

  “That’s impossible,” Halfdan told her. “You were not one of Thorkell’s slaves.”

  “But -” She stared at his stern face, the morning’s brief hope draining away. “Isn’t Erik going to save Edwina? Isn’t that why he told me to hurry, so I could go with her?”

  Halfdan shook his head, and Lenora knew the terrible thing was really going to happen. She was wide awake now, and she wished with all her heart that she were not. Even knowing Edwina’s fate was certain, Lenora made one last attempt, for the sake of the close friendship she and Edwina had once known, and for the love she still had for Edwina.

  “I’ll prevent it somehow. We’ll run away.” She started back toward the little group still standing in front of Erik’s house. She had moved only a single step when Halfdan stopped her.

  “You can walk to Freydis’ chamber,” he said, “or I will carry you. But you are going right now.”

  Halfdan’s hand on her upper arm tightened, and he pulled her in the direction he wanted her to go. He was too strong for her to fight him with any hope of winning. Defeated and unable to find words to protest any more, Lenora let Halfdan lead her to Freydis’ room. As they went along the path, she saw, drawn up onto the sandy beach at the river’s edge, a longship, with logs and brush piled around it. A shimmering silken tent had been erected on its deck. Halfdan saw her looking.

  “That is the place,” he said gently, and Lenora’s knees buckled.

  “I can’t, I can’t bear it,” she moaned. “Oh, Halfdan, help her. Please, why won’t someone help?” She knew her plea would make no difference, but she uttered it all the same.

  “Lenora, you don’t understand. We are helping her. This is what she wants.” Halfdan put his arm around her waist and half-carried her into Freydis’ room.

  “There is food and mead for you,” he said. “Freydis told me to bolt the door on the outside to prevent you from attempting anything foolish. We will open it again after the pyre is lit.”

  “No! No!” Lenora made for the door, but Halfdan’s bulk stopped her.

  “Let me go,” she demanded hysterically, beating at his chest with clenched fists. “I have to stop this madness. Let me go, Halfdan.”

  “I’m sorry, Lenora, I cannot. It would be better for you if you could simply accept our ways in this, as Edwina has.” Halfdan went out, and Lenora heard him fasten the door and walk away.

  “Let me out!” she shrieked, tearing at the door, pounding, scratching until her nails broke and her hands were bloody. She beat and kicked until she was worn out, but the strong wooden door held.

  “Edwina, Edwina,” she sobbed as she slid along the door frame and lay weeping on the floor. “Edwina!”

  The long day passed. She heard movement along the path, voices and occasional laughter. Once she heard Edwina’s voice. There was no fear in it. Then all was quiet for a while, until she heard singing coming from the direction of the river.

  Half-mad with fear for her friend, Lenora picked up the food bowl and flung it across the room. A pitcher followed. She gave one of Freydis’ clothes chests a wild push. As it grated across the hard earth floor her eyes fell on a knife lying half-hidden beneath it. Lenora pounced on it and ran to the door.

  By wedging the knife blade between the frame and the door she could just make contact with the wooden outer bolt that held the door shut. She worked frantically, carefully, trying to be quiet lest someone hear her, until finally she lifted the bolt and the door swung open.

  It was dark with the heavy blackness of night and an impending storm. The only light was by the river, where torches cast a lurid glow into the night. Lenora hurried toward the light. There was a crowd around the longship on the beach. All the folk of Thorkellshavn were arrayed around an open space immediately in front of the ship.

  Erik stood at the edge of the open space, completely naked and holding a torch in his hand. As Lenora watched, he ran backward toward the ship and flung the torch over his head into the brush piled against it. The flames exploded upward, enveloping the ship and its contents, as family and friends came forward and added their torches to the pyre.

  With a shriek wrung from her very soul, Lenora ran for the ship. “Edwina! Edwina!”

  The first person she met was the old volva. She was wearing the gold neck-ring Thorkell had given Edwina.

  “Witch!” screamed Lenora. “You hideous old witch!”

  Next she saw Freydis, her mouth open in astonishment, and Erik, still naked.

  “Murderers,” she screeched. “You are all murderers. Filthy, murdering Norse—”

  Erik’s hand swung out and struck her. She crashed to the ground and lay there, weeping inconsolably, as the flames leaped higher and higher into the winter sky and then slowly died.

  Chapter 13

  The great, final funeral feast took place that night and lasted until the following morning. Lenora heard the noise and the laughter coming from Thorkell’s hall as she crept past it. There was no reason for her to remain weeping by the longship. It was only smoldering embers now, and ship, Thorkell, and Edwina were one.

  It was raining again, a heavy, ice-laden downpour that quickly soaked everything, but Lenora felt as though she were on fire. She staggered to the trees that surrounded the little bathing pool, broke the film of ice on the surface, and sluiced her burning face and arms with the frigid water. She was no longer hot. Now she was cold and numb. The temptation to slide into the pool and remain there forever was almost overwhelming. Lenora fought the part of herself that wanted to give up and join Edwina and the rest of her family in death.

  “No,” she said through chattering teeth. “I won’t do it. I’m the only one left. I won’t let my family end here.”

  She returned to Erik’s h
ouse, threw off her wet clothing, and covered herself with a shawl. She added logs to the fire with reckless abandon.

  “Tonight I must be warm,” she muttered, “or I’ll die too.”

  She collected all the furs and winter cloaks and blankets she could find and piled them onto the bed on the shelf along the wall, then got into it and pulled the coverings over herself. She lay there a long time, staring into the fire and thinking of Edwina, before she fell asleep.

  Erik stumbled in sometime during the icy-gray morning that followed. He was very drunk and looked as though he had not slept for days. Dark circles underlined his eyes, and his mouth was set in a bitter line.

  “Get me water to wash with,” he ordered.

  Lenora sat up among the furs, pulling the woolen shawl around her shoulders. When she tried to get out of bed, her legs trembled and gave way. She sank back, sitting on the edge of the bed platform.

  “I can’t stand,” she whispered, stating the obvious.

  “Are you still sick?” He reached out a hand toward her, moving nearer.

  “Don’t touch me,” she cried, evading his hand. “Stay away from me, you disgusting murderer.”

  “I am no murderer.”

  “You killed Edwina.”

  “The volva killed Edwina. Edwina wanted to die,” he said wearily. He staggered, landing next to her on the bed. His arms wound around her. He did not seem to notice her shrinking away from his unwelcome embrace. “I need you, Lenora. My father is dead and I need you. Let me hold you.”

  As his mouth sought hers, Lenora smelled mead and wine. She pushed at his shoulders.

  “Leave me alone, you pig.”

  “If I am a pig, then let us wallow together and make little piglets,” he chuckled drunkenly. He reached for her again, pushing her down on the bed and falling on top of her. His hands groped clumsily along her body in a grotesque imitation of his usual lovemaking.

  Lenora fought him, struggling with sudden, panic-stricken strength. She was appalled to find that in spite of his drunken condition and her deep anger she still wanted him. His familiar touch set her body tingling with desire. Valiantly, she fought against her own awakening need.